#thinks she knows everything. truly knows not a thing. might know everything. might be dead. might (CRUCIALLY!!) be alive. possessed by

[vidavalor]

Hello lovely! I'm wondering if you have any thoughts about Maggie in Final1 5? Isn't it weird that she wants to go back to talk to Az and Crowley while Nina's working? Something about it feels off to me.

Hello right back. 💕 There's chamomile mint tea and shortbread since we're on a Maggie theme, if you'd like some. Maggie's behavior from that scene on is super fucking weird, I agree.

Before the milk run-- when Maggie becomes the only involved character whom we lose track of a bit during The Final 15-- versus how she behaves when she returns is so strange as to be something that I consider maybe additional proof that things are not at all what they seem to be in The Final 15.

On Maggie and Crowley's weird Final 15 behavior, a possible meaning to all the allusions to robbery in S2, and what Maggie and Nina might be able to tell us about what happened at the end of S2.

TW: brief mentions of show's non-consensual possession/rape analogy.

Think for a moment about how truly weird Maggie's request for her and Nina to go back to the bookshop in that moment actually is...

It's only been a matter of minutes since Maggie and Nina were basically hostages in the bookshop who were almost killed by Michael and Saraqael. Crowley saved their lives in getting them out of the shop maybe, what? It's been a minute since I rewatched that bit of it but it couldn't have been more than 15 minutes prior?

The beings in the shop but for Maggie and Nina are supernatural and so left magically without using the door but while we the audience know that these people are no longer in the shop because we were watching it, Maggie and Nina do not know that. When Maggie suggests to Nina that they go talk to Crowley and Aziraphale, they have no way of knowing if the beings that just tried to kill them are still in the shop. They didn't even see Aziraphale leave with Whoever Derek Jacobi Is Playing yet because Nina was all "where's the other one?" to Crowley when they arrived back in the shop.

Maggie is literally like: Nina, I know you opened the business you own late and are the only one working right now and have a line of 20 people waiting for their morning, pre-work coffee but what if-- just hear me out-- we just made them wait an indefinite amount of time to voluntarily go back into the place where we nearly died a matter of minutes ago that could still be full of the people who wanted us dead and we did this for no other purpose than just to tell off my beloved adopted godfather and his partner, who just risked harm to save both our lives? And to maybe then also stick our noses into their love lives in return or something?

I mean... WHAT?!?! lol

Consider, even, how even more weird that is when Maggie, just *prior* to having gone to the mini-mart, had never been more on the same page with Nina and never more understanding?

She sacrificed her own want to go sleep behind the counter of her shop to offer to help Nina. It's a big moment of change in their relationship and shows a lot of growth for Maggie. She's gone from someone who is caring but has a tendency to only think about how things make her feel to seeing things from Nina's perspective. She's matured through the season into being someone more ready to be a partner to Nina. Maggie offering to help Nina with her morning rush-- and Nina accepting the help-- is the sweet, romantic moment showing that these two are heading in a positive direction, both individually and together.

When Maggie gets back with the milk, though? After she's been out of our sight for a few minutes? She's behaving very differently.

During S2, Maggie is shown to be a pretty guileless character. She might have the occasional judgemental moment but she's not deceptive or tricky and she really wouldn't hurt a fly. When Maggie comes back from the milk run, though, her insistence on Nina dropping everything and going with her in that moment is not just weird behavior but manipulative in a way that could not be more out of character for Maggie.

Nina has been in an abusive relationship where she was afraid of displeasing Lindsay. Maggie is aware of this, as it's been the subject of multiple conversations between them throughout the season. So, when Maggie gets so bizarrely insistent on Nina dropping her work-- her livelihood, her purpose, her job-- to meet Maggie's demands in that moment? When this isn't an emergency of any kind and isn't at all time-sensitive and there is no objective reason why Nina should be halting her job to do what Maggie wants in this moment? Maggie is being controlling in a Lindsay-like way. She keeps at it, knowing that Nina will give in and agree to go with her because Nina is used to doing that with her partner.

Nina hesitates and isn't sure whether or not to go with Maggie for a moment and I don't really blame her? This is the complete opposite behavior to Maggie before she left for the mini-mart. Maggie is suddenly acting quite a lot like her polar opposite-- the Lucifer-and-Heaven-paralleling Lindsay.

Maggie is also literally on Nina's shoulder like a devil the whole time in the scene in which she's convincing her to step away from the shop and go across the street with her to the other shop for a chat and...

...listen to what we just said there...

...it's a parallel to the thing that Whoever Derek Jacobi Is Playing is doing with Aziraphale, is it not?

So, what happened on the milk run?

Who did Maggie run into at the mini-mart that we couldn't see in the ending of S2 without it giving the game away? I wouldn't be surprised if, on this mirror-happy show, on the other side of learning in S3 that it was The Devil with the coffee in the bookshop in The Final 15, we also had a scene that showed that, while on her milk run, Maggie had a run-in with Sister Teresa's killer.

Did Hastur possess Maggie as part of Satan's plan? Was the idea to use Maggie and Nina to further trip Crowley and Aziraphale towards disaster to get Aziraphale? If so, it kind of half-worked. I'm not convinced that anything Maggie and Nina said to Crowley really mattered-- I think they weren't telling him anything he didn't already know or feel and that it's largely misdirection for the audience. What was effective, though, was the impression Aziraphale got upon seeing them leave as he was coming in.

Maggie and Nina being back in there at this weird time and then rushing out with smiles and comments like that they were "just leaving" and they were sure Crowley and Aziraphale had "a lot to discuss" seem to have led Aziraphale to assume that Crowley had asked them to come back and to the conclusion that he must have done so to tell them of his intent to ask Aziraphale to marry him. It's Maggie and Nina leaving the shop that reinforce to Aziraphale the idea that, when Crowley stands up afterwards, takes off his glasses, and says he supposes he has "something to say", that Crowley is only trying to communicate a proposal and not a plan.

It's what helps-- big time-- to lead Aziraphale to not listen for a shred of coded language for the entire scene. Neither he nor Crowley are listening for that with one another, which is why neither of them can truly understand what the other is saying, but Aziraphale's part of that is really fucked to Hell by the presence of Maggie and Nina in the shop when he came back. That's all pretty suspicious since Maggie was out of our sight for a few moments and came back fixated on the idea that she and Nina needed to go to the bookshop right that very moment and that it couldn't wait.

The Final 15 is a dark parallel to The Baby Swap plot and Maggie and Nina are full of shadows of Sisters Mary and Teresa to a point that the final shots of both of them in the series are mirror images of the final shots of their S1 characters. Nina looking through glass at Crowley departing is the last shot of Sister Mary both in 2008 and 2019, while Maggie's last shot?

To me, it's one of the most eerie moments in the entire series because of how much it visually resembles Sister Teresa's death.

Basically two minutes after we hear about The Second Coming... in the same season where Maggie and Nina's partial-vavoom gives way to a (possessed?) Gabriel saying: the dead will leave their graves and walk the Earth once more... we are shown Crowley and Aziraphale's apparent adopted goddaughter unresponsive on the counter of her shop.

Is Maggie dead?

Is Maggie asleep, like we were led to believe she wanted to do earlier in the episode? Maybe. Is she comatose/unconscious? Maybe. It's just that, best I can tell, she does not take a breath during the shot which I feel had to be intentional on the part of Maggie Service, and she's in the same position as we last saw Sister Teresa in S1...

Then, there's the robbery theme and how Maggie and Nina foreshadow so much of the end of S2 back in this scene here:

In Good Omens, the shop is the character. Maggie is, symbolically, the records she sells. The show also explains that Maggie's shop used to be a part of the bookshop. Now, there are three characters, not two, who are A.Z. Fell & Co.: Aziraphale, Crowley and Maggie. At the same time, Aziraphale is also The Small Back Room. The shops are intertwined as the characters are, essentially, family in the story. The fate of one is the fate of the other, which makes what Maggie and Nina foreshadow when talking about Maggie's shop while trapped together in Nina's not just the fate of Maggie's shop in S2 but also of the bookshop.

Maggie says that if she can't close the door to her shop, someone could walk in and take records. Maggie is the records she sells so, symbolically, this means someone could take Maggie. We got a bit of a preview of that when Shax appeared to get into her mind during the attack on the bookshop and Maggie also became the one who unintentionally "let the robbers in."

These robbers, Maggie frets... they could empty her till-- take all her money on a literal level... take her mind, or maybe even her life, on another. (Not to mention the now chill-inducing use of money-related words and coins with regards to the paralleling Crowley...) These robbers could take forcible ownership of Maggie's shop-- so, of Maggie. Maggie's shop was born of the bookshop... so, they could take forcible ownership of the bookshop, too.

Not just the physical bookshop, though that, too. The symbolic bookshop. Which is not only Aziraphale but Crowley and Aziraphale.

But, if The Small Back Room was originally part of the bookshop, then the bookshop really isn't just Crowley and Aziraphale-- it's Crowley, Aziraphale and Maggie.

If the robbers come for the bookshop, they've also come for The Small Back Room because it is all born of the same, symbolic shop.

Is that what they did?

Is that why Maggie is last shown to us non-responsive in her shop?

Now, Nina's even more foreshadowing reply:

Nina said that, if she owned a record shop, she'd be more concerned about "someone breaking in and leaving more records behind."

What are records? They're the literal records in the musical and old film sense that Maggie sells, yes, and also Maggie herself. They're also books, like what Aziraphale sells, and Aziraphale himself. But they're also a third thing that's very much of note in S2.

They're also the life's work of a scrivener, like what Muriel does.

Nina foreshadows someone breaking in and leaving "more records behind"... which is exactly what happens in The Final 15.

Elspeth's graverobbing. Bildad stealing Job and Sitis' wine and food. The 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. Aziraphale having the missing Shakespeare Robin Hood play in the box in 2.06. The robbery-based fantasy Aziraphale was telling Crowley in Lockdown: ...the other night, when a couple of young lads broke into the back and tried to steal the cash(cache)box!

The Final 15 is a robbery.

The last two episodes see the shop attacked during The Meeting Ball and into the next morning. Aziraphale is robbed blind of his entire life. Characters are taken hostage. Signals for help are tried and fail. The cop, it turns out, was a stooge for the robbers. Whoever Derek Jacobi Is Playing broke in through the open door and robbed the place blind, as Maggie foreshadowed. As Nina foreshadowed he would, what did the robber leave behind?

More records. Muriel.

To rob, as we know, is to steal. It's to plunder or strip a place from someone through force and/or violence. That is why it was once, in addition to being descriptive of physical goods stolen from a person, also a word that was used for rape, for which non-consensual possession has been analogous since the show's first episode. That is why some of us think that the music goes insane on the look to Crowley in the scene below. Satan is robbing Crowley-- forcing him to identify him as The Metatron to Aziraphale and the angels and to let Aziraphale go alone with him.

Satan attacked Crowley in front of Aziraphale and, while Aziraphale pretended he didn't see it, he did, which is why he led "The Metatron" straight out the door in an effort to get him away from Crowley. Because, speaking of characters behaving very weirdly... anyone have a better explanation for why guard dog Crowley sat in that chair like he couldn't get out of it and encouraged Aziraphale to go alone with a guy who once tried to kill them? It just doesn't make any sense unless his words are not really his own and there's only one character we've seen do that to him.

And if Crowley's not the only one behaving out of character, then what else happened to Maggie at the mini-mart but something similar?

What happened in The Final 15? Satan robbed the bookshop.

He and The Metatron don't give a toss about the shop itself and plan to destroy it alongside everything else once Armageddon gets rocking. They're there to get Crowley and Aziraphale out of the way for Armageddon by dividing and conquering. Just because we've yet to see blood doesn't mean this wasn't robbery by force.

Satan took hostages at the start-- letting the ones go he didn't care about go and keeping the ones most likely to influence the shop's owner: Crowley and Muriel.

Satan and The Metatron sacrificed Muriel to their plan, not caring if Muriel explodes along with the shop when they kick off Armageddon a matter of *checks watch* basically any minute now after S2. We think Muriel is better off in the shop at the end of S2 but I'm not totally sure they are. I think it actually might be one of the most dangerous places to be in right now. The bookshop didn't burn down this time-- it was burned as safe space in every possible way. It's a crime scene.

The Metatron and Satan are here for revenge. The Metatron is letting Satan have Aziraphale to get Crowley and Aziraphale out of the way for Armageddon. There is no real job offer-- it's all Satan tempting Aziraphale into falling. Satan's revenge on Crowley and Aziraphale is to force Crowley to help him take Aziraphale right out from under his nose. That's the start of it, anyway.

Besides Armageddon and daring to have a relationship and a sense of self outside of the demonic collective of Hell what is Satan really pissed at Crowley and Aziraphale about?

His kid. Adam. Crowley and Aziraphale helping Adam against him.

If Satan has been lying in wait, still very, very angry at Crowley and Aziraphale for turning his son against him and if he's now here for revenge, then who else besides Aziraphale is then most in peril here?

Yes, my Job-and-Sitis-paralleling poppet... your big, cross duck and your kids are most imperiled here and S2 showed us that your kids are not just humanity writ large but, specifically, Maggie. The Small Back Room is of the bookshop that is you and Crowley. Maggie is your Adam. Will Satan come after your daughter? It's a concept posed in your paralleling/foreshadowing story earlier in the season... actually, it was also the entire plot of that paralleling story earlier in the season as well...

I feel like not going with Ennon and Keziah's theories on Satan's behavior is probably the best way to form a Good Omens theory 😂 so I'll stick with the idea that Satan very much would dare leave a revenge body count of Crowley and Aziraphale's adopted kids, as the Job minisode proved he'd do even with the spawn of "God's favorite human", let alone anybody else.

As, speaking of foreshadowing lines, this is really even more S2 than it was about S1:

Satan will even have a whole pseudo-philosophical chat about it with you first, amused that he's standing in a place called Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death and ordering a coffee while the plan is likely for this place, the women making him the coffee, and everyone on this street and on most of the planet to be dead by tomorrow.

Maggie is the only character who actually asked for coffee using that exact word in S2.

[avatarkcrra]

tlt enjoyers i am so curious to know what has been occupying your mind the most during the alectopause. i for one Cannot Stop Thinking about judith deuteros.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Turning Tables

Summary: The team finds you and Spencer, you come back to work after recovering, things are tense. Spencer realizes he messed up, but you're not so quick to forgive.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: suggestive content (16+), mentions of hookup culture, talks of cases, reader is heavily assaulted by unsub, broken bones, dumb man Spencer, missed signals, bad communication

Word count: 6.9k

a/n: hiii there will be a part three!!

main masterlist part one part three

The team finally found the two of you in the abandoned warehouse, but the sight they came upon was brutal. Spencer had a black eye and a split lip from being hit, his face bruised and bloodied, but you— you had taken the worst of it. The unsub had unleashed relentless violence on you. You’d been slapped, punched, kicked, spit on, cut, and thrown around like a ragdoll. The unsub’s twisted plan was clear: break Spencer by hurting you, the "weaker" hostage, using your suffering to force him into talking. But you both knew that wasn’t an option. Spencer couldn’t give the unsub what he wanted, no matter how much it tore him apart to watch you take those blows.

Every hit that landed on you felt like it was striking Spencer himself. He watched, helpless, feeling the pain of every blow as though it was his own flesh being torn and bruised. Yet he remained silent, knowing that any begging or pleading from him would only make the unsub escalate. He couldn’t give them that. He couldn’t put you through more than what you were already enduring, though it felt like it was killing him inside to watch.

When the team finally stormed in, you were unconscious, your body battered and limp as they carted you away on a stretcher to the waiting ambulance. Hotch approached Spencer, his voice calm but filled with concern as he asked, "What happened to Y/N?"

Spencer, sitting in the back of another ambulance, stared blankly ahead. His shoulders were slumped, weighed down by the guilt and horror of what had transpired. His voice was quiet, flat. “She was the target.”

Hotch took in Spencer's empty gaze, the exhaustion and anguish etched into every line of his face, and knew better than to press for more. They’d have to wait until you woke up to understand the full scope of what happened in that warehouse. But even then, Hotch feared that some wounds might never truly heal.

—

You eventually did wake up, groggy but relieved to find that, despite the brutality you endured, you had very little internal damage. The doctors assured you that your body just needed time to heal. Two weeks of paid leave were granted as you recovered, a rare gesture of empathy from Chief Strauss, who seemed to have a soft spot for you.

As the painkillers faded and your mind cleared, the questions from your team began. You sat with them, still feeling tender but able to think straight, recounting everything you remembered from that night. You and Spencer had been investigating a house, following up on an anonymous tip. It seemed routine until the moment you two split up to check different rooms. That’s when it happened—ambushed from behind, a cloth drenched in chloroform shoved over your mouth. After that, everything went black.

"I only remember waking up inside the warehouse with Spencer," you explained, your voice steady but laced with tension. The memories still fresh, the pain still vivid. "The unsub wanted me. I was the real target. They said I was more of a challenge than any of their other victims."

JJ, sitting beside you, asked softly, her voice gentle and careful. “Why did they take Spencer?”

You heaved a breath, feeling the weight of the answer on your chest. “They thought if they took him too, they could find out where the rest of the team was. They wanted Spencer to tell you all it was a dead end, to send you off on a different trail.” You paused, your breath shaking as you continued. “They said if Spencer did that, they’d release him. But they made it clear… they just wanted me.”

The room was silent for a moment, the gravity of your words hanging in the air. Your team exchanged glances, but no one said anything. They didn’t need to. You all understood what it meant—that the unsub was willing to let Spencer go, but you were never supposed to walk out of that warehouse alive.

—

When you returned to work after your leave, the atmosphere shifted. The entire team was happy to have you back, and there were warm smiles all around. Spencer, however, seemed unsure how to approach you now. Still, he smiled as you passed by, his voice tentative yet sincere as he said, “I’m really glad you’re back and feeling better.”

You returned the smile, a brief and polite response escaping your lips. “Thanks, Spencer. I appreciate it.” The exchange was short, almost too brief, and you both seemed to sense the unspoken tension lingering between you. It didn’t go unnoticed, especially not by JJ, who had grown close to you since the incident. She had been your rock, someone you confided in more and more. 

When she found a quiet moment alone with you, JJ slipped into the conversation with ease. “Hey, how’s your first day back?” she asked with her trademark smile, though there was a hint of something deeper in her tone.

You shrugged lightly, trying to mask any unease. “Same as usual, I guess. It feels good to be working again, though. I was getting restless at home.”

JJ laughed knowingly, nodding. “I know exactly what you mean.” Then, her voice dropped, softer now, as she leaned in slightly. “Did something happen between you and Spence?”

The question caught you off guard, your brows knitting in surprise. Did Spencer say something to her? You quickly tried to brush it off with a joke. “Other than, you know, getting kidnapped together? Not that I know of.”

But JJ wasn’t convinced. She made a face like she wasn’t buying your casual response. “Are you sure? You two haven’t really been talking much. I guess I just assumed something like that would have brought you closer… in a weird, awful sort of way.”

You let out a short laugh, trying to deflect again. “Yeah… we didn’t get the trauma bonding memo, I guess.”

JJ still looked skeptical, her eyes scanning your face for cracks in your armor. “Okay, well… just, if you need to talk, I’m here. You don’t have to go through anything alone.”

Her offer was genuine, and the sincerity in her voice made you pause. You smiled back at her, feeling a small but comforting warmth settle in. “Thanks, JJ. I really appreciate that.”

Across the bullpen, Spencer had been listening to the conversation from his desk, his heart aching at what JJ was implying. He’d been mulling over the same thought—that the trauma you both went through should have drawn you closer. Shared experiences like that often created a bond, an unspoken connection forged in survival. But instead, he could feel the distance between you growing wider, and it tore him up inside.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how hard this must be for you, how you were facing it all alone. You were still relatively new to the team, and as far as Spencer knew, this was your first time being kidnapped. After his first time, he had shut everyone out. Granted, he’d been addicted to drugs back then, but that isolation still hadn’t been the right path. It had only deepened the pain, and he feared you might be doing the same thing.

He could only hope you were receiving the support you needed—support he wasn’t sure he could give you anymore.

—

Later that week, you found yourself in the kitchen, trying to ignore the sharp ache in your side as you reached for a mug to make tea. The pain in your ribs flared up with every stretch, the broken bones protesting loudly. As your arm extended toward the cupboard, the burning sensation became unbearable, and you yelped, clutching your side in an attempt to steady yourself.

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was filled with concern as he walked into the room just in time to see you wince in pain. He was by your side in an instant, his hands hovering uncertainly, as if he wanted to help but wasn’t sure how far he could go. “Are you okay?”

You grunted, trying to downplay the pain. “I’m fine, just... need a mug.”

Spencer gave a small, understanding nod before stepping in to help. He reached up with ease, grabbing the mug he knew was your favorite—the one you always used for your tea. “Here,” he said softly, placing it on the counter in front of you. “Making tea?”

A small flutter stirred in your chest at the realization that he remembered both your favorite mug and your preference for tea. It was such a small detail, but it felt significant in that moment, a quiet acknowledgment of the bond that still lingered between you despite everything.

—

You laughed as you watched Spencer pour himself yet another cup of coffee. “It’s three in the afternoon, Spencer! Who drinks coffee this late?”

Spencer chuckled along with you, lifting his cup with a playful grin. “Me! Obviously!” he said, gesturing toward the steaming mug with a mock sense of pride.

You bumped his hip with yours, gently nudging him out of the way as you reached for the kettle. “Well, some of us actually like to sleep,” you teased, your tone light and playful.

What you didn’t notice was the way Spencer had stared at you after that, a soft, affectionate gaze lingering on your face, the kind of look that held more meaning than words could express.

—

“Yeah, thanks,” you sighed, knowing you needed the help but still feeling a little self-conscious about it.

Without missing a beat, Spencer grabbed your favorite tea from the cupboard and began steeping it for you, his movements calm and precise. He didn’t ask if you needed more assistance—he just did it, like he knew exactly what you needed in that moment. It was a silent kindness, one that reminded you of the Spencer you knew before everything had gotten so complicated.

As the tea steeped, you leaned back slightly, watching him with gratitude and lingering uncertainty. The simplicity of the moment, of him helping you with something as mundane as making tea, felt like a brief return to the way things used to be between you.

“Do you need help with anything else?” Spencer asked, his gaze fixed on the steaming mug in front of him rather than meeting your eyes. His tone was casual, but there was something tense beneath it, something unspoken that lingered between the two of you.

You frowned, feeling a bit of confusion and then a flicker of annoyance rising up. Was he only doing this out of guilt? You straightened up slightly, crossing your arms over your chest despite the ache in your ribs.

“Look, I appreciate your help, but you don’t have to suck up to me because of what happened,” you said, your words sharper than you intended. You regretted it immediately, but the frustration had been bubbling beneath the surface for a while now—how careful everyone was being around you, how things with Spencer had grown so strange and distant since the kidnapping.

Spencer froze for a moment, his hand still resting on the counter as he absorbed your words. His jaw tightened, and for a second, he didn’t move or say anything. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but steady. “I’m not… sucking up to you.”

You huffed, unsure where this conversation was heading but feeling the tension building between you. “Then what is this? You’ve barely said two words to me since I came back, and now suddenly you’re… what? Trying to make up for it by being overly nice?”

Spencer’s shoulders stiffened, and he finally turned to face you, his expression guarded. “I’m just trying to help,” he said, his voice measured, like he was trying not to let his own emotions show. “I know things are… different now. But I didn’t want to push you into talking or pretending everything’s okay if it’s not. That’s all.”

The frustration in you wavered, your annoyance softening as you realized he wasn’t trying to guilt-trip or coddle you. He was as lost in this new dynamic as you were, both of you navigating the aftermath of something you hadn’t fully processed. His hesitation wasn’t about sucking up—it was about not knowing how to be around you anymore.

“I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything,” you said, your voice quieter now. “You don’t have to fix this, or me.”

Spencer's eyes softened slightly as he watched you, his own uncertainty flickering across his face. “I’m not trying to fix anything,” he said, almost a whisper now. “I just… don’t want to make things worse.”

The weight of his words settled between you, and suddenly the air felt heavy, filled with everything you both hadn’t said since the warehouse.

“Worse, right,” you scoffed, the bitterness lacing your voice before you could stop it. “Sorry I started an awful chain of events.” You could feel the hurt bubbling up again, the weight of rejection you’d been carrying ever since that day in the warehouse. It wasn’t just the physical pain—it was the emotional bruise left behind, the wound that hadn’t healed.

Spencer looked at you, his expression faltering. He opened his mouth as if to respond but then hesitated, unsure of how to mend what had already spiraled so far out of control. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said softly, his words stumbling out in a rush. “We were under a lot of stress… sometimes people say things they don’t mean, searching for comfort.”

You felt your heart drop at his words. He thought it was just a fleeting moment, something you’d said out of desperation. That stung worse than anything. You blinked back the frustration and the tears that were threatening to spill over, the pain in your side flaring as you tried to catch your breath.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out, the door to the break room slamming behind you with a sharp, echoing crack.

Spencer stood there, stunned, the sound of the door slamming reverberating in the silence. He hadn’t meant to make things worse. He didn’t realize until it was too late that you hadn’t just left the conversation—you had left the room entirely, and maybe… left something between you both behind.

He clenched his hands into fists, a knot tightening in his stomach. He didn’t know how to make this right, how to undo the damage that had already been done. All he knew was that you had walked away and it felt as if he was losing you for good.

—

Things on the team settled into a new rhythm, even if it wasn’t quite the same. Everyone seemed to accept that you and Spencer were no longer as close as you had once been, though there was an undercurrent of tension. The two of you weren’t assigned together anymore, and that seemed to smooth things out for the most part. But it didn’t go unnoticed that Spencer kept a quiet distance, while you partnered up with Derek in the field.

Spencer couldn’t shake the bitterness that crept in when he saw you with Derek. He couldn’t help but wonder if Hotch had reassigned you because he thought Spencer couldn’t protect you, that you needed someone strong like Derek to keep you safe. The thought left him feeling sour, inadequate, like he’d somehow failed. But then, just as quickly, he’d get mad at himself for even thinking that way. You didn’t need protecting. You were more than capable of handling yourself in the field. You had survived worse than most, even if he couldn’t bear to watch it happen.

What gnawed at him most, though, was how happy you seemed with Derek. The way you laughed and joked with him, talking easily like you once did with Spencer. It stirred something ugly inside him, something he didn’t want to admit. He couldn’t deny that Derek was the kind of man who seemed perfect—strong, confident, and charming. A man who could sweep anyone off their feet. He hated that it bothered him, but he’d never allow himself to admit that he was afraid you’d fall for Derek. That kind of jealousy was too much to confront.

You, on the other hand, were content with your new partnership. Derek was easygoing and didn’t pry into your personal life. He let you manage things on your own terms, only asking questions when you willingly brought something up. It was a refreshing change, especially after everything that had happened with Spencer. You didn’t want to talk about what had gone wrong. You were too embarrassed, too ashamed of how vulnerable you had felt. It was easier to leave it behind, buried where no one could see the cracks.

But despite the professional ease, there was still a part of you that missed what you and Spencer once had, even if you’d never admit that either.

—

On one particular case, you and Derek celebrated the capture of an unsub with a big, triumphant hug. In the heat of the moment, you jumped into his arms, and he caught you effortlessly, spinning you around as the rest of the team cheered. It had been the two of you who made the breakthrough that led to the unsub’s hideout, and everyone was thrilled. You were beaming, caught up in the excitement of the team.

But Spencer, standing on the sidelines, was stewing. His mind kept replaying the mistake he had made, the detail he had missed that Derek had caught. And now, it was Derek who had caught you, too. Watching the two of you laughing, hugging, and celebrating felt like a punch to his gut. His insecurities gnawed at him, building into a quiet anger that simmered beneath the surface.

The rest of the team, however, smiled at the sight of you, happy to see you so joyful and healed enough to engage in lighthearted horseplay with Derek. The dark cloud that had followed you since the kidnapping seemed to have lifted, and it was a relief to everyone.

When the team returned to Quantico, Penelope was quick to corral everyone for celebratory drinks at the local bar. You stuck close to JJ and Penelope, grateful for their company as the night went on. After a few drinks, they pulled you out onto the dance floor, laughter bubbling up between the three of you as the music played. You let yourself go, dancing with JJ and Penelope, the worries of the past few months fading in the glow of the evening.

But it wasn’t until Derek joined you girls on the dance floor that something shifted. Spencer, sitting at the bar, felt a surge of jealousy flood through him. Derek was there again, touching your arm, laughing with you, spinning you around as the girls cheered. Spencer’s vision blurred with red-hot anger, the insecurities and feelings he had been burying for weeks now boiling over.

Before he could think twice, Spencer stormed over, grabbing Derek by the arm and pulling him outside the bar. The sudden outburst left Derek confused, glancing at Spencer with genuine concern. “What the hell, Reid?” Derek asked, his voice sharp with confusion but tinged with worry. “Are you okay?”

Spencer was breathing heavily, steam practically pouring out of his ears as he glared at Derek. “Do you like her?” he snapped, his voice cracking with frustration.

Derek blinked, taken aback. “Who? Like who, Reid?”

“Y/N!” Spencer shouted, his voice louder than he intended. “You keep touching her, and dancing with her, and laughing like—like you’re trying to be with her!”

Derek’s face softened in realization, and he held up his hands defensively, trying to calm Spencer down. “Whoa, whoa, kid,” Derek said slowly, his tone measured. “You think something’s going on with me and Y/N?”

Spencer’s chest heaved as he struggled to control the emotions that had been brewing for so long. “I… I don’t know. I just—every time I see you with her, I can’t help but think you’re—”

Derek cut him off gently, shaking his head. “Spencer, man, it’s not like that. We’re friends. That’s it.”

But Spencer wasn’t ready to accept it. “Then why do you keep acting like that with her? I see it, Derek! You’re always laughing with her, touching her, like you’re… like you’re taking my place.”

Derek sighed, finally starting to understand what was bubbling beneath the surface. “Alright, Reid. What’s going on? ‘Taking your place’? You know Hotch was the one who reassigned us all. It’s just work, man.”

Spencer huffed in frustration, his foot kicking at the loose gravel beneath him. His mind raced, emotions swirling, but he couldn’t seem to piece together a coherent response. He felt like a rubber band stretched too far, about to snap, and it wasn’t just about work. He knew that much.

Derek watched him closely, reading the tension in Spencer’s body, the unease in his eyes. “That’s not what you meant, though, is it?” Derek questioned carefully, his tone soft but pressing for the truth.

Spencer’s shoulders tensed even further, his head dipping slightly as he tried to find the right words. “I… I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice shaky with frustration. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to confront what was really bothering him. But he also couldn’t stand feeling like this—watching from the sidelines, seeing you with Derek, seeing you laugh and smile like he wasn’t even part of your life anymore.

Derek took a step closer, lowering his voice so only Spencer could hear. “There’s more, isn’t there?” he asked, but he wasn’t accusing. He was just trying to get Spencer to open up, to confront whatever it was that had him spiraling.

Spencer clenched his fists at his sides, staring at the ground as his heart pounded. “I… I didn’t mean for there to be,” he admitted quietly, his voice strained. “It’s just… I don’t know how to be around her anymore. Everything’s different, and I—I don’t know how to fix it.”

Derek nodded slowly, understanding dawning. “You care about her. More than you’re letting on.”

Spencer’s silence was answer enough. He cared about you deeply—more than he had ever allowed himself to admit, even to himself. And now, watching you get closer to Derek while he kept his distance, it felt like he was losing you, piece by piece.

“I don’t know what happened in that warehouse," Derek began, his voice steady and understanding. "I read the report, but I’m sure there were some forgotten details… stuff that can’t be put into words.” He paused for a moment, giving Spencer a chance to process what he was saying. “If there’s something you need to tell her, just do it, Reid. Y/N isn’t the type to laugh at you or shut you out.”

Spencer sniffled, the tears coming against his will, his emotions too raw to hold back any longer. “I... I know that,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the strain. He wiped at his eyes, feeling small and overwhelmed. “I just want to go back to how things were,” he complained softly, his words sounding almost petulant, like a child wanting to undo what couldn’t be undone.

Derek’s heart softened at Spencer’s admission. He had seen this kind of pain before, knew how trauma could twist things, how it could fracture even the strongest of bonds. “That’s not gonna happen, kid,” Derek said with sympathy, shaking his head gently. “What happened to the two of you… that changes people. It changes the way you see the world, and it changes how you see each other.”

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling the weight of those words sink in. He knew Derek was right. He knew things had changed, that he had changed, and so had you. But hearing it made the ache in his chest sharper, more real.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t rebuild together,” Derek added, his voice hopeful. “It’s not about going back to how things were, Spencer. It’s about moving forward—together. You’ve both been through hell, but that doesn’t mean it’s over. You still have a chance.”

Spencer looked up at Derek, his eyes filled with uncertainty and vulnerability. “What if… what if it’s too late?”

Derek shook his head, giving Spencer’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It’s only too late if you give up on her. Don’t wait until you lose her for good before you try to fix things. You care about her, Reid. She needs to hear that from you.”

Spencer took a deep breath, nodding slightly, though the fear still gnawed at him. He didn’t know if he was ready, but one thing was certain—he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. He had to find the courage to face you, to face what had changed, and to see if there was still a chance to rebuild the connection he had feared was lost forever.

After their tense conversation outside the bar, Spencer headed home, deciding it was best not to linger. He didn’t want to ruin your night by bringing up anything uncomfortable, and the idea of watching you dance with Derek—or worse, with other men—was too much for him. The weight of jealousy and regret was already suffocating, and he needed space to figure out what he was really feeling.

It turned out to be a good thing he left when he did. After Spencer and Derek stepped outside, you were approached by a very handsome, very suave man. He had an easy charm about him, the kind that made conversation flow effortlessly. His flirtatious smile and smooth lines quickly caught your attention, and for the first time in a while, you felt yourself relax, enjoying the moment without overthinking it.

One drink turned into two, and before you knew it, the night had slipped away. The man offered to take you home, and in the haze of alcohol and the desire to forget the complicated feelings with Spencer, you agreed. You didn’t want to think about what had been left unsaid, about the tension between you and Spencer, or how much everything had changed.

That night, you went home with the charming stranger, eager to escape the weight of the unresolved emotions that had been building for weeks. But in the back of your mind, even as you tried to lose yourself in someone new, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder if this was just another way of avoiding what you were really feeling.

—

That one night started a fire inside you, one that you hadn’t realized had been smoldering beneath the surface for so long. The realization that—even if it was just for a fleeting moment—you were wanted, desired, was intoxicating. After everything that had happened with Spencer, after feeling rejected and unsure of yourself, it was refreshing to be wanted without complications or emotional baggage.

The feeling of being desired, even if only for one night at a time, ignited something within you. It gave you a sense of control, of freedom, and it felt good—so good—to be seen as someone worth chasing. So you leaned into it. You found your place in the hookup culture, where the rules were simple and the emotional weight was nonexistent. One night, one person, no strings attached.

And it was fun. The thrill of meeting someone new, the brief connection that didn’t require anything more than mutual attraction, gave you a rush. Sure, the expense of condoms and the constant reminder to stay on top of frequent STD testing was a minor annoyance, but it was worth it for the feeling of power and liberation that came with it.

You felt like you were finally getting your fix, like the hole that had been left after your complicated feelings with Spencer was being filled—albeit temporarily. It wasn’t about love or deep connection anymore. It was about reclaiming something for yourself, something you hadn’t realized you were missing. You had found an escape, and for now, that was enough.

But then, one day, you made a mistake—a slip of the tongue in the office. You weren’t necessarily trying to keep your new lifestyle a secret, but you hadn’t planned on making it common knowledge either. Your friends and coworkers didn’t need to know every detail of how you were trying to get over Spencer, how you had buried your hurt in casual flings to escape the complicated feelings lingering from the rejection.

It happened when Penelope asked about your weekend plans in the bullpen. You casually mentioned that you were busy, but the response sparked curiosity.

"Busy? With what?" JJ asked, her eyes narrowing playfully. As your close friend, she felt like she would have known if you had something going on. She sensed something was off.

You laughed awkwardly, realizing you had stepped into dangerous territory. "Uh, just... seeing a man."

Penelope's face lit up with excitement. "You have a date?" she asked, her glee impossible to hide.

"Not exactly..." you trailed off, hoping the conversation would end there, but you should’ve known better.

Derek, never one to miss an opportunity to tease, raised an eyebrow with a sly grin. "Little miss thing, do you have a scheduled booty call?" he asked, his tone filled with mischief.

Your face flushed fiercely, the blush creeping up your neck. The small, involuntary smile on your lips gave you away instantly, and before you could protest, Penelope squealed with delight, while JJ chuckled in surprise.

"Oh my god!" Penelope exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. "You minx! Why didn’t you tell us?"

You tried to play it cool, shrugging lightly. "I mean, it’s nothing serious. Just… you know… having some fun."

But what you didn’t notice was Spencer, who had overheard the entire conversation from across the bullpen. His face paled, and his heart sank as the reality of your words hit him like a freight train. You were seeing other people. You were sleeping with other men, and it was painfully clear—you were trying to get over him.

The girl he had always wanted—you—had wanted him back. That truth crashed into him with an intensity he wasn’t prepared for, and the weight of it left him standing frozen, unable to process how much he had lost. Spencer felt the deep ache of regret, gnawing at him with every word you spoke to your friends. You had moved on—or at least, you were trying to. And it was all because of him, because he had pushed you away when you had been vulnerable, honest, and open with him.

At that moment, Spencer couldn’t deny it any longer. He finally admitted it to himself—he wants you. He likes you. Maybe he even loves you. He always has. 

The realization of what he had been running from all this time hit him harder than any unsub ever could. He had been too scared to face it, too afraid of messing things up between you, too unsure of how to handle his own feelings. But now, watching you laugh awkwardly with your coworkers about casual hookups and hearing how you were slipping further and further away from him, it became painfully clear—he had already messed things up. 

Spencer clenched his fists at his sides, his mind racing with the weight of what he'd been denying for so long. He wanted to be the one you turned to, the one you laughed with, the one you came home to after a long day. He wanted to be more than your friend, more than someone you used to be close to. He wanted you in his life, in every possible way.

—

Spencer had always been on your speed dial—back when things were simpler, back when you called him almost every day, your friendship close and easy. So when his phone buzzed after 11 p.m. on a Saturday, his first instinct wasn’t concern. But after everything that had happened between the two of you lately, the timing made him uneasy. This wasn’t normal anymore. He hadn’t heard from you in weeks, not like this, and certainly not at this hour.

His heart pounded as he grappled for the phone, his mind racing. If you were calling him this late, something had to be wrong. He didn’t hesitate for a second, fumbling to answer as quickly as possible, already imagining the worst. “Y/N?” he called out into the phone, his voice tense with worry. “Y/N, are you okay?”

But instead of your voice answering, what he heard stopped him cold.

It was faint at first, a muffled noise, but as he strained to listen, the unmistakable sounds of… pain? groaning? It left him on edge, his panic rising. His mind raced, thinking the worst—had you been hurt? Were you in danger? He called your name again, louder, more frantic this time. “*Y/N!*”

But still, no response from you. Just the sounds, growing clearer, louder.

And then, it hit him like a punch to the gut. Through the haze of sounds on the other end, he heard a man’s voice, moaning your name.

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat as realization dawned painfully, his stomach twisting. You hadn’t called him on purpose. You had buttdialled him during a hookup. The groans, the noises that he had thought were of pain—they weren’t what he had feared. They were… something entirely different.

His hands shook as he stared at the phone, the pit in his stomach growing. He could hear everything, the intimacy, the passion—things that weren’t meant for him, things he should never have been privy to. The knowledge of what was happening, of who was with you right now, left him reeling.

He hung up, the phone slipping from his grasp onto the bed. Spencer sat there, stunned, trying to process what had just happened. It was the harshest reminder of what he had lost, of what he had pushed away. You were moving on. You were finding comfort in someone else. And here he was, on the other end of a phone call that was never meant to be made.

For the first time, Spencer felt the full weight of what he had done. He had pushed you away, too scared to face his own feelings, and now he was watching—no, hearing—you slip further away from him. The girl he had always wanted, the one who had wanted him, was now with someone else. And all he could do was sit there, helpless, with the sharp, bitter taste of regret heavy on his tongue.

—

You were blissfully unaware that you had called Spencer the night before. After a fun, carefree night with a man whose name you couldn’t even remember, you woke up feeling satisfied and content. It wasn’t until the next day, when you went to call Penelope, that your heart stopped. Staring at your call log, your eyes widened in horror as you saw the call to Spencer. A call that had lasted for several minutes. 

You quickly checked the time. It had definitely been when you and what’s his name were together. Oh god. A pit formed in your stomach as the realization hit you—did Spencer hear anything? Your mind raced, mortified by the idea. You hadn’t spoken to him much lately, and now, this? It was beyond awkward.

By Monday morning, you were terrified to face Spencer. The embarrassment gnawed at you, and the thought of seeing him after that accidental call made your stomach churn. When you arrived at the office, you tried to keep your head down, praying the situation would somehow blow over. But as soon as you made it to your desk, Spencer stormed over, his face set in a hard, unreadable expression.

“Y/N,” he said lowly, his voice tense, “a word.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You nodded silently, following Spencer into the hall, the weight of what you feared was coming making it hard to breathe.

Before he could speak, you blurted out, “Listen, Spencer, I’m sorry—” You didn’t even know how to finish the sentence, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

Spencer’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he was grappling with something—whether to be angry, hurt, or simply frustrated. “You called me,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with something else you couldn’t quite place. “I heard... a lot.”

Your heart sank even further. He did hear. “Spencer, I didn’t mean for that to happen,” you said quickly, desperate to explain. “It was an accident. I wasn’t trying to—”

“Just…” Spencer interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away, clearly uncomfortable. His voice was quieter now, but the tension between you was palpable. “Please don’t do that again. It was horribly uncomfortable.”

You winced, guilt washing over you. The last thing you had ever wanted was to make Spencer feel that way. “I’m really sorry, Spencer,” you said, softer this time. “I didn’t realize I had called you. If I had known...”

He nodded, still avoiding your gaze. “I know. It’s just… hearing that, knowing what was happening, it was…” He trailed off, the words hanging unfinished in the air.

"It was what?" you pressed, sensing that Spencer was leaving something unsaid, something important.

Spencer glanced away, his expression tense, and then, as if the weight of his feelings could no longer be held back, he blurted it out. "I was jealous, okay?"

You blinked in disbelief. “Jealous?” The word left your mouth before you could stop it, confusion swirling in your mind. How could he be jealous after everything that had happened between you two?

“Yeah, Y/N,” he sighed, finally meeting your eyes, the vulnerability in his gaze clear now. “I was jealous.”

You shook your head, still baffled by his confession. “Spencer, you rejected me,” you reminded him, your voice sharper than you intended. The hurt from that moment still stung, and hearing him say he was jealous felt like a twisted irony.

“I know,” he said quickly, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I know I did, and I’ve regretted it ever since. I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle what you said or what I was feeling, and I pushed you away. But hearing you with someone else, knowing you’ve moved on… it hit me harder than I expected.”

You stood there, staring at him, processing his words. Part of you wanted to lash out, to remind him of how much his rejection had hurt you. But another part of you, the part that had always cared for Spencer, softened at the sight of him so open, so raw with his emotions.

“Spencer…” you started, your voice gentler now, “you don’t get to be jealous. Not after everything. You made your choice.”

“I know,” he whispered, his eyes full of regret. “And it was the wrong choice. I didn’t realize how much I wanted you—until it was too late.”

There was a pause as his words hung in the air between you.

“Well, I’m sorry it took you so long to realize it,” you said, the hurt still lingering in your voice despite the calm exterior you tried to maintain.

Spencer nodded slowly, his expression full of regret. “Me too,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at you then, his eyes filled with all the things he hadn’t been able to say before, the weight of his hesitation clear now that the truth was out.

The silence between you stretched on for a moment, heavy with everything that had gone unsaid for so long. You could feel the weight of it pressing down on you, the hurt and confusion swirling around inside your chest. This was what you had wanted once—to hear Spencer admit that he had made a mistake. But now that it was happening, it didn’t feel as satisfying as you thought it would.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Spencer continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how to deal with my own feelings. And now I’m scared I’ve lost you for good.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. There was no quick fix for what had happened between you. His apology was genuine, but the damage had already been done.

“I don’t know what to say, Spencer,” you admitted. “I’m not going to pretend like this doesn’t hurt, or that everything can just go back to how it was.”

“I understand,” he said softly, looking down at the floor. “I don’t expect things to go back to the way they were. I just… I wanted you to know how I feel. And that I’m sorry.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “I appreciate that. But this doesn’t change everything.”

“I know,” he replied, his eyes meeting yours once more. “But maybe… maybe it’s not too late to figure it out. If you’re willing.”

You hesitated, the rawness of the conversation still fresh. You didn’t know if you could open that door again—not yet. But maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to rebuild what had been broken.

“We’ll see, Spencer,” you said softly. “We’ll see.”

And with that, the conversation hung in the air, fragile and uncertain, but with the faintest glimmer of hope.

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

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[likeumeanit9497]

metal | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: y/n got a few new piercings, and when her best friend matt asks to see them, she can't say no

warnings: smut; unprotected p in v (bad); oral (fem receiving); masturbation (m/f); phone sex; dirty talk; 18+

notes: hiii guys. i feel like tumblr's flakiest writer ever coming back on here every few weeks with a one-shot and telling u all im gonna be more consistent but then just not being consistent at all. i just started a new college program and it is taking up so (!!!!) much of my time, so ive been barely able to put any time towards writing for funsies. soooo it might take me a couple weeks to put out one shots (sad) while im in this program, but i swear im doing the best i can. i appreciate u all so so so so much, but matt girls this one is for u <33

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

With a sigh of relief, I crawled into bed. It was late, and I was exhausted after a long day of dealing with family shit. The only thing that got me through my day listening to my dead-beat father come up with yet another excuse on why he no-showed at my birthday dinner was the promise that, at the end of the day, I would be able to curl up in bed and forget all of my problems. Now that time had come, and I couldn’t wait to turn on some trashy reality TV show and lose myself in their cushioned world for a little while.

Just as I started the show, I felt my phone vibrate beside me. For just a moment I was filled with dread — thinking that I would be once again pulled back into the drama that was my father — but once I saw the name at the top of my screen, I felt my body relax. Matt was calling.

Matt was my best friend, and he had been for years. Him and I met on the first day of school freshman year, and immediately became inseparable. He was the only person in my life who I ever felt comfortable around enough to truly open up to about my problems. There really wasn’t much in my life that he didn’t know, so of course I had told him last night that I was going to see my father, and of course that was why he was calling. Annoyingly, I felt a smile creep up on my face. I hated that I loved how involved he got with my problems; as if they were his own. I would never admit this to anyone, but it really helped because it made me feel less alone.

“Hey you.” I greeted him after accepting the call. “Hey Y/n.” His voice sounded familiar in my ear, and already it calmed the sea of bad thoughts crashing in my mind. “How did today go?” He asked, keeping his tone light. I knew though that if I could see his face, there would be faint lines of concern etched in his forehead. I sighed. “Exactly like I knew it would. He gave me an insincere apology and weak excuse the way he always does.” Matt stayed silent on the other side of the call, allowing me the time to tell him as much as I wanted. His soft breathing through the speaker, however, comforted me and let me know that he was listening.

“He smelled like a distillery and couldn’t stop slurring his words, yet he was still trying to tell me that he hadn’t drank all week.” I heard my voice weaken, and I hated that I felt a lump forming in my throat over the situation. I hated that I cared, and I definitely didn’t want anyone to know that I did; even Matt. But of course, he knew anyways. I heard an empathetic sigh through the phone. “I’m sorry, Y/n.” I rolled my eyes, doing everything I could to keep the tears from falling. “It’s whatever. It’s not like I’m really losing much, but I did tell him that I’m done for good.” I forced my words to come out smooth, like I didn’t care. And I didn’t, not really.

“That must have been really hard, Y/n. I’m really sorry.” Matt’s words were sincere, and they caused the lump in my throat to grow even bigger. I forced out a laugh to keep my other emotions at bay. “Don’t be sorry. It’s better this way. Maybe now I can finally have peace in my crazy life.” There was silence on the line, and I knew it was because Matt wanted me to go deeper about my feelings, but I couldn’t handle much more tonight.

“Anyways,” I started, blinking away my tears and plastering a corny smile on my face as if Matt could even see it, “How have you been? We haven’t talked much over the past week.” At the change of subject, Matt picked up on my disinterest in the topic of my father, and like the best friend he is, transitioned into our new topic smoothly. “I’ve been good, been working a lot but it’s been on exciting things. What have you been up to? You know, besides today?” I chuckled softly.

“Honestly not much besides work. My boss has been really stressed out since the end of last quarter so I’ve been coming into the office early and staying well past five every day.” I paused, staring up at my ceiling trying to think if there was anything exciting I could tell Matt. Suddenly, I remembered that there actually was something that I had done that was more interesting than just working late all week. “Oh! I also got some new piercings last week.” It was Matt’s turn to chuckle.

“Y/n, how the fuck did you fit more piercings on your body?” I laughed. He was right, both of my ears were filled with every piercing imaginable, and I also had my nose, tongue, and belly button pierced. I had already told him that I would never get anymore facial piercings, and I certainly didn’t have much room on my ears to get more, so I understood his confusion entirely. “Do you want to guess where they are?” I teased, feeling relieved to have something to talk about that didn’t make be absolutely miserable for once. “Sure,” I heard what sounded like a blanket rubbing against the speaker, and I assumed that Matt was now getting comfortable in bed, also seemingly enjoying the light-hearted conversation, “But can I get some hints?”

“Sure,” I replied, “You can ask me three questions.” I heard him smile through the phone. “Okay…” There was a pause as he came up with his first question. “How many did you get?” Without hesitation, I was able to respond. “I got three.” There was another pause, and then. “Are two of them a part of a pair?” I laughed at Matt’s not-so-subtle guess. I had told him months ago that I had been wanting to get a certain pair of piercings for a while, and I knew he was thinking of that exact conversation. “Yes they are.” I replied, and there was a dramatic gasp on the line. “Ouch, you actually got your nipples pierced?” His voice was laced with playful concern, and something else. Intrigue?

“Okay okay, you got two out of the three. One more question left.” I encouraged him. If he was shocked about my nipple piercings, I couldn’t wait to hear his reaction to the third. He was silent again for a moment, surely confused by the third piercing. Nipple piercings weren’t that outlandish for me, and he knew that, but this last one is sure to blow his mind. “Oh god, I don’t know. Is it another body piercing?” His tone sounded so helpless, and I knew he really didn’t have a clue. “It is, yes.” I did my best to contain my laughter at this point, not wanting to give it away.

“Is it a second belly button piercing?” The guess was weak, and by the tone of his voice he knew it. “Nope.” I replied, biting my nails in anticipation. He was once again silent on the phone, and I knew he was officially running out of ideas. After a moment, I decided to give him one last hint. “Think lower.”

A new silence poured from the phone. Before, there was the silence of deep thought. Now, there was a heavier silence that let me know he finally put it together in his head. Below your belly button, there aren’t many places you can get pierced. He knew that just as much as I did. But I didn’t know if his silence meant he was just shocked, or if he was genuinely disappointed in me. For the first time since becoming friends with Matt, I felt nervous that maybe I had gone too far.

“You’re serious?” He asked, finally breaking his silence, and I couldn’t help but release a short, nervous laugh. “Yeah. Why? Did I just delve too far into the daddy-issues stereotype?” I tried to keep my tone humorous, but inside I was actually worried that was true. Did he think I was weird now? Or did the fact that I had a piece of metal pierced atop my bundle of nerves immediately turn me into some dirty whore in his eyes?

“No! Jesus, no Y/n.” His rushed words put a pause on my spiralling thoughts, and I felt myself relax slightly. “It’s just,” In that moment, I wished that I could see his face. At least then I would have better odds of being able to read him instead of just waiting helplessly on the other side of the phone. He was struggling to find the words he wanted to say, and in my mind that meant he was getting ready to give me some sort of lecture. It wasn’t something that he was in the habit of doing, but I had also never done anything as shocking as this before. I began to prepare myself for this lecture, and come up with explanations and excuses for what I had done, when his hesitant words stopped me in my tracks.

“Can I see them?”

I stared at my phone for a second, unsure if I was just hearing things. “You want to see them?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking, for clarification’s sake. I was shocked. Even with how close Matt and I are, we had never ever seen each other naked. In fact, there had been no physical intimacy between us other than platonic cuddles every once in a while. I would be lying, though, if I denied ever having moments of weakness. There had been times, when we would have sleepovers after tough days and the heat of Matt’s comforting body pressed against me, where I had wanted to throw all logic aside and press my lips to his. But I never would have done it. Matt wasn’t exactly known for his boldness, and I feared that my bad habit of being spontaneous would absolutely destroy our friendship. But now, he had me questioning all of that.

“I’m curious.” He replied, his tone nonchalant. I still couldn’t tell if he was being serious, and I felt like a deer in headlights. Just as I was about to tell him to stop fucking around, my screen lit up with a Facetime call from Matt. My stomach did a flip. “You gonna pick up?” His voice made me jump, but I cleared my throat and hit accept.

Suddenly, Matt’s face filled my screen. He was in his bed, the only light in his room seeming to come from a faint source; likely his computer screen. His face was so familiar, and the smile he sent me so comforting, that I immediately felt more at ease than I felt before. “Hey.” He said gently, and I laughed at the ridiculousness of this moment. “Hey” I replied before shifting my position in bed nervously. “So you were serious?” I asked awkwardly, and he nodded. “If you’re okay with it, obviously.” I took a deep breath. I was okay with it, of course, but it was just so out of the norm for us that I felt shell shocked.

“I’ll show you nipples first.” I said, sitting up in my bed before grabbing the bottom hem of my oversized t-shirt. I positioned my phone in front of my still-clothed chest, and watched his face on the screen. He laid naturally in bed, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary, but the way his dilated blue eyes were glued to the screen I could tell that he was feeling the same kind of anticipation that I was. Slowly, I finally lifted my shirt up over my chest; allowing him a full view of my new piercings.

I intentionally left the shirt up to block my own vision, because I couldn’t handle watching him stare at my tits for the first time. In the dark, all I heard was silence for what felt like forever, and I got worried that I had somehow lost him. Cautiously, I pulled my t-shirt away from my eyes, and glanced at him on the screen. He was staring intently; I could see his eyes move from one tit to the other every few seconds, and there was a slight grin across his face. “Wow.” He said finally, still taking them in. “Those are sick piercings.” I stifled a laugh at the fact that he was still trying to act like it was all just about the piercings, and that there weren’t two tits attached to the metal. “Thanks.” I replied, a small chuckle still evident in my voice.

I allowed him a few more seconds of shameless staring before speaking again. “You ready for the third?” I watched as he blinked a few times and took a deep breath. “I can’t wait.” He replied, causing my stomach to do another flip. I brought the phone back up to my face as I laid back down, smiling at him nervously as I pulled my comforter off my lower body. I was only wearing a pair of panties, so I already felt shy when I positioned my phone in between my legs. I used the front camera still, hoping that it would allow him a better view, but hated that you could still see the lower part of my face.

Matt hadn’t moved in his bed since I looked at him last. In fact, it almost looked like his image was frozen. His eyes were still glued to the screen, and he seemed to be barely blinking; as if he was scared that if he did, he would miss it entirely. “Okay, ready?” I asked, using the hand that wasn’t holding the phone steady to grab onto the side of my panties. Even in the almost-dark of his room, I could see him gulp before nodding his head. “Ready.” He replied.

Slowly, I hooked a finger under my panties, and pulled them to the side. In the blink of an eye, all of me had been revealed to Matt through a screen inches away from my core. My eyes veered back and forth from myself in the phone and Matt’s expression. I could see the shiny metal glitter against my pink clit, and watched as Matt visibly struggled to keep his composure. Neither of us spoke for a moment, and I felt myself begin to tremble under his shameless stare. I grew nervous, then, that my body would begin to give away how suddenly aroused I became under his eyes. My core was flooding with heat, and I knew that I was beginning to grow slick with my wetness.

“Does it hurt?” He finally spoke, but his voice had changed drastically since I had last heard it. It had dropped nearly a whole octave, and there was a sort of breathlessness to it that was foreign to me. It was the voice of arousal, and that knowledge was enough to drive me crazy. “N-no, it doesn’t,” I replied, using all the strength in me to not squeeze my legs together to relieve some of the pressure flooding my core. “It’s been a week, and these sorts of piercings heal really quick surprisingly. I can touch it and everything.” My last sentence fell from my mouth thoughtlessly, and I immediately felt my cheeks grow hot at my accidental boldness. That didn’t last long, though, because Matt’s next words pulled all that heat right back to where it was before.

“So touch it then.”

It was like all the sense was knocked out of me from his words. I would have thought that my instinct would have been to laugh and roll my eyes before telling Matt to knock it off, but the seriousness of his tone, the sharp blue of his piercing eyes, and gruffness of his voice caused my brain to shut off. Immediately, my hand traveled to my bud, where I began to slowly play with the metal. Although I had been telling the truth when I told Matt that it was fully healed, I hadn’t yet touched myself in this way since getting it pierced, and the new sensation immediately sent pleasurable shock waves through my body. As I began to slowly rub my clit, the metal added a new level of pressure to the nerves that — combined with the adrenaline that came from doing this in front of my best friend for the first time — caused me to throw my head back against my pillows.

“Tell me how it feels.” Matt’s deep voice filled the space around me in a way that made me feel even more erotic, and I released a soft moan. “I-It feels good.” I replied breathlessly, my fingers beginning to move quicker as I squeezed my eyes shut in pleasure. “Better than before?” His question came out slightly choppy, and through the phone speaker I heard the rhythmic shuffling of his comforter. “Y-yes. Much better.” I managed to reply, the thought of what he was doing to himself on the other side of the screen pushing me closer to the edge.

“Look at me.” He commanded, and without hesitation I lifted my head up; looking at him through the screen. He could only see the lower half of my face, but I could see all of his. As I continued toying with myself, I watched him through fluttering eyelashes. Although his face had not changed much — besides the darkening of his pupils and the faint accumulation of sweat on his brow — the repetitive movement of his bicep at the corner of the screen told me everything that I needed to know. “You look so good.” He complimented me, his voice low and gravelly. I moaned in response, rolling my hips slowly as I began to grow antsy with a need that I knew I couldn’t fulfill myself.

The pleasure was growing like a balloon deep inside of me, but my own fingers weren’t enough to reach it. Not now; not when I have a beautiful man that I trust more than anyone else watching me with that dangerously erotic gaze. Just like Matt knows everything about me, I know everything about him. And so I know that, in this moment, he wants the same thing that I do. That’s why I didn’t feel any unease or hesitation when I drew my fingers away from my clit, ran them achingly slow along the rest of my heat, and spoke.

“Please come over Matt.”

It was a request that I had made to him countless times. Those times I was usually close to tears after a long day of dealing with the shitty cards I had been handed in the family department. I needed him then, like I need him now. In those times he never ever hesitated, and this time was no different. In one swift motion, I watched through the screen as Matt lifted himself out of his bed, threw on a t-shirt, and grabbed his keys off the bedside table. “I’ll be there in ten.” Just like my request, his response was the same as always. As I told him to drive safe before hanging up the call, I felt my body vibrate in a way it never had before. I pulled my hand out of my panties and waited in desperate anticipation for the familiar sound of his car pulling into my driveway.

𓆩☆𓆪

Matt arrived at my place in eight minutes, and as soon as I saw his headlights through my window, I sprung out of bed and raced to the door. There was no nervousness, no reluctancy, no questioning whether or not we were making a big mistake; all I knew was that I needed his hands on my burning skin desperately.

I flung the door open before he even had a chance to knock, but Matt didn’t hesitate before pulling me into him and engulfing my mouth with his own. Although we had never kissed before, it wasn’t shock that I felt in that moment; it was the melting satisfaction of familiarity. I practically collapsed in his arms as his mouth moved against mine as if they were two pieces of a puzzle, and relished in the feeling of his hands travelling wildly across my aching body at last.

As he held me gently against the wall, I felt his hardened member press against my core, and I shuddered in pleasurable frustration. In that moment, I could have lost all self control — pulled his pants and boxers down in one movement and slipped his cock into my aching core right then and there — if he hadn’t grabbed onto my ass and lifted me off of the ground. Without removing his lips from mine, he carried me past my entrance way and all the way into my dark bedroom as if he had memorized every square inch of my place.

As he continued to kiss me with hungry desire, he paradoxically draped my body gently against my bed. Leaning over me, his mouth refused to leave mine and his tongue begged me for entrance. I obliged, and our tongues swirled together with comfort; as if they were old friends. The sound of our heavy breathing filled my head, and I ran my hands along his body; allowing myself to feel him in a way I never had before. Each part of him felt familiar — his back, his arms, his stomach — but each new part of him I touched set off sparks of electricity under my fingertips. This was real, and this was good.

It was only after I began toying with the waistband of his pants, and he the hem of my shirt, that our lips separated and we really looked at each other since the moment he arrived. Both of our chests were heaving as we tried to catch our breath, and I gazed up at his darkened eyes for what felt like forever, until a soft smile crept onto his swollen lips. “Hi.” He said, and I released a short laugh realizing that this was the first word either one of us had said to the other since hanging up the Facetime call. “Hey.” I replied, a smile matching his now etched onto my face.

“Can I take this off?” He tugged on the bottom of my t-shirt, and I nodded. “Please.” I replied, feeling no shame in my clear desperation. Matt obliged, pulling the shirt up over my head and exposing the tits he had seen on Facetime not long before. There was a pause, and for the first time since we started all this I felt briefly insecure. That is, until I looked up to his face and saw his jaw physically dropped in awe. He looked like he had fallen into some sort of trance, and mindlessly brought his two gentle hands toward my hardened, pierced nipples. He ran a soft thumb against each piercing, and I hissed at the deliciously taunting sensation.

“Do these ones hurt at all?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but his eyes never left my chest. “These ones do a little, yeah.” I replied, to which his eyes finally fluttered up to my face with slight concern. “But it’s really not that bad.” I added, reassuring him out of fear that he might suddenly not want to continue. This seemed to help, as his eyes made their way back to my chest before his body suddenly began tilting forward. He leaned above my chest, really only centimetres away, and I watched as he placed two small, unbelievably gentle kisses against each hardened nipple. The ecstasy I felt in that moment caused me to release a soft moan, and goosebumps spread across my skin like wildfire, and I suddenly realized that I needed him more than ever.

As if reading my mind, his mouth then began moving slowly down my writhing body. He took his time on my sternum, then the skin below my belly button, then my hip bones, and I felt like I could explode. My hands flew to his hair and I subconsciously tugged at its base in decadent frustration. And then slowly, so, so, slowly, Matt began dragging my soaked panties down my legs. I felt like I could crumble under his gaze, but his eyes never left my newly exposed core. Blinking ever so slowly, he dropped to his knees and grabbed my shaky legs to part them. Once he did, I watched as he groaned softly at what he saw.

I knew without having to look that I was literally dripping from arousal, and that hunch was confirmed when Matt took one finger and dragged it along my slit; collecting the overabundance of fluid. He didn’t even take his eyes off of my centre, he just brought his wet finger to his mouth and wrapped his lips around it; so transfixed by what he saw in front of him that he didn’t even care to make a scene of tasting me for the first time. I had never felt more glorious than I did in that moment, and it was so overwhelming that I could have came just from sight alone.

Slowly, Matt’s mouth inched closer and closer to my clit, before he carefully wrapped his lips around it. Upon the first contact of his warm tongue playing with the cool metal of my piercing, I was hit with a powerful wave of pleasure that shook my whole body. As he picked up speed, swirling and sucking my bundle of nerves, I couldn’t control the sounds that fell from my lips. Moans of pleasure, pain, and anticipation filled the room, and they only seemed to draw similar ones from Matt.

Matt slid two fingers into me with ease, and began pumping them in and out in rhythm with the movements of his tongue. His fingers were curled up to just the place I needed them to be, and I felt what was left of my sanity begin to crumble as I approached an orgasm. The orgasm that I had been desperately needing since our Facetime call. It’s impending presence had taken control of my mind for what felt like forever, and now it was finally threatening to take control of my entire body. Yet, still, I needed more.

Quickly, before the first waves could crash, I pulled Matt’s face away. Immediately, his blissed-out expression quickly changed to one of concern, but before he had the chance to speak, my desperate voice filled the room. “Please Matt, I want to cum with you.” His features softened before understanding flashed in his eyes. Without saying a word, he stood up and began unzipping his pants. I waited in anticipation, watching with hungry eyes as his painfully hard member sprung free from his boxers. Once he had fully discarded his clothes, he leaned down and kissed me so deeply that I saw stars. His mouth tasted like me, and I couldn’t help but slip my tongue past his lips; intoxicated by the combination of me and him on my tastebuds.

I felt his naked member press against my core and I shuddered from pure lust. I was so engulfed in the intensity that I was afraid I would fall into pieces as soon as he slid into me. Breaking the kiss, Matt straightened himself out and grabbed my legs before placing them on either side of his waist. The two pieces of us that needed each other the most right now were just inches from one another. My eyes fell between my legs, and I watched in euphoric awe as Matt grabbed his swollen member, lined it up with my centre, and slowly pushed into me. His movements were so torturously, deliciously slow, my eyes rolled and my head fell back onto the mattress.

On each slow roll of his hips, his cock slammed into my g-spot and made my vision go spotty. I held onto his flexed shoulders like I was drowning and they were my life raft, and I released harsh guttural moans each time my walls stretched; welcoming him graciously. “Fuck, you feel so good.” Matt’s raspy voice fluttered my stomach, and I opened my eyes to come face-to-face with him. He was staring down at my contorted face with a look filled with nothing but pleasure and adoration. His flushed cheeks and dark pink lips gave him a look that bordered on innocent, but there was a certain hint of hard focus in the depths of his ocean eyes that told me he was feeling as good as I was.

Each time he thrusted into me, the soft crest of his pelvis brushed ever so lightly against my new piercing; granting me a new form of pleasure that I had never experienced before. I had been told by other people that the piercing can be intense during sex, but I had underestimated just how intense it would be. I had no sense of control as Matt’s cock continued to drive into me, and I couldn’t help but vocalize how he was making me feel.

“J-just like that Matt, fuck!”

“Your c-cock fills me s-so go-od!”

“H-harder, please baby!”

At my last statement, Matt showed he was listening by suddenly slamming into me harder and faster than I had ever felt before. He grabbed my legs and wrapped them tightly around his waist, and as I arched my back in pleasure he draped one of his arms around it and used the other to hold my jaw; brushing it lightly with his thumb to ensure me that his gentleness had not completely disappeared. His breathing quickly grew more and more rapid, and deep grunts fell from his mouth every few seconds.

I was hit with shockwaves of pleasure upon each of his thrusts, and I knew that my orgasm was closer than ever. I dug my nails into his back and tightened my legs around him in a desperate and subconscious attempt at getting as close as possible to him, and it was clear that there was no stopping the orgasm that was bubbling inside of me. “G-gonna cum Matt.” I squeaked out, rolling my hips up slightly deepen his thrusts even more. “Good girl, want me to cum with you?” His words were in my ear, and even the dampness that his mouth made against my skin added to my unraveling euphoria. Beyond the point of being able to speak correctly, I simply nodded my head frantically.

As I did, Matt released the deep moan that pushed me over the edge. My orgasm took control of every cell in my body, and I cried out in overwhelming pleasure as it tore me to shreds. I felt my body stiffen so much that I was practically lifting off of the bed, and my walls pulsed intensely as I squirted violently all over Matt. Just then, I felt Matt’s body stiffen above me, and his movements became a whisper as he cursed into my ear. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” His moans rang in my ear with each of his weak thrusts, and I felt his twitching cock paint my walls white as he came undone in unison with me.

Eventually, his body stilled completely, and he rested above me as we both caught our breaths and came down from our highs. His cock slipped out of me, and I immediately felt cold and empty in its absence. After a few moments, Matt lifted his head from my shoulder and gazed at me with a soft smile on his face.

“Damn.”

“I know.”

”I mean, that was-”

“I know.”

We continued to stare at each other, both with matching smiles on our faces, until I dissolved into childish giggles.

“What?” Matt asked, unable to keep himself from laughing as well. “What?” He asked again, nudging my shoulder gently as I giggled. “I mean come on,” I continued to laugh, “That was crazy. Don’t you think it was crazy?” I looked at him, starting to feel the first hints of regret now that it was over and we had to go back to being friends. “I don’t think it was crazy.” He replied simply, before bringing his lips back to mine. This kiss was different than the other ones we shared tonight, though. There was no hunger, no lust. There was just love.

He pulled away after only a few moments, and I looked back at him with what I was sure was confusion all over my face. “I have never felt less crazy in my life than I’ve felt tonight.” Matt continued, and I felt my stomach flutter, “Tonight, everything finally feels right.” I felt a bashful smile form on my lips. I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel the exact same way. “So,” I started, unsure of how to maneuver this, “What now?” Matt got up.

“Well,” He began, grabbing his discarded t-shirt and using it to gently clean me up, “It’s late and you’ve had a long day, so I think we should get some sleep.” I propped myself up on my shoulders and watched as he began to clean himself next. “And then when we wake up tomorrow, we’ll go get some breakfast and talk about what we both want.” He walked into my adjacent bathroom and started the shower, the way he has done a thousand times before, before walking back to where I was and helping me off the bed.

Once I was on my feet, he placed another gentle kiss against my lips, and I felt my insides melt at the comfort of his touch. “But if I’m being completely honest, which you know I always am, I think we both already know we want the same thing.” I looked up at him through nervous eyelashes, and had to chew my bottom lip to stifle the massive smile that was threatening to take over my mouth. Matt had no problem showing his huge smile, and he tilted his head quizzically in my silence. “Am I right?” He asked, and instead of responding with words, I leaned up and placed a kiss of my own on his lips.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

[ohbueckers]

WHAT’S MY NAME? you got that something that keeps me so off balance. baby, you’re a challenge. let’s explore your talent.

THIS IS PART TWO! part one here. pairing, paige bueckers x tutor!oc. notes, blah blah blah place name proper name backstory stuff. warnings, sexual content & interruptions.

“—and she literally asked me what my name was. you heard that? and was dead serious, too.”

the team—well, most of the team burst out into a fit of laughter, their voices echoing through the locker room. it was game day—the same game paige had invited liana to. the same game the blonde paid for liana to go to. they’d only talked about a handful the past few days, the two of them shamefully finding excuses to text each other. the last thing they’d talked about was the game, the blonde confirming everything. in her own words, the girl needed a good ol’ uconn women’s basketball experience.

“man, what’s the point of being famous if people don’t even know who you are?” ice snickered, shaking her head as she pulled her jersey over her head. nika leaned back against her locker, her laugh coming out in short, breathy bursts as she tried to catch her breath.

paige let a small smirk tug at the corners of her lips, trying to play it cool. but deep down, it was bothering her more than she wanted to admit. she was paige bueckers. everyone knew her name. and yet here was this girl, this ridiculously pretty girl, who had managed to make her feel like just another student. that wasn’t supposed to happen, but it felt good in a way.

she pushed the thought away as the team continued to poke fun, turning her attention to her shoes, making sure they were laced up tight. they would be playing maryland, and although paige thought it would be an easy dub, she hoped liana wouldn’t be in viewpoint. she wouldn’t be able to focus that way.

“yo, paige.” kk’s voice cut through the laughter, her tone a bit more serious. paige glanced up, catching the way kk hesitated before she spoke again. “i don’t know if this matters to you or whatever, but… i think liana might be seeing someone.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, and paige’s grin faltered just slightly. she raised an eyebrow, waiting for kk to continue.

“like, there’s this girl me and aubrey saw her on campus with the other day. and she’s been checking her phone a lot when i’m around,” kk added, her voice low as if she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. but paige caught the implication, her attention immediately shifting to aubrey.

she turned to her teammate, her eyes narrowing just a bit. “you saw her too?”

aubrey looked up, hesitating for a moment before nodding. “yeah, i saw them together a couple of times. seemed like more than just friends, you know?” she tried to put it into perspective for her, but paige didn’t even look like she was listening.

for a second, paige let the thought sink in. another girl, huh? she didn’t know why, but it almost made her smirk. this wasn’t some random guy she could brush off. it was another girl—competition, maybe, but also an opportunity. it didn’t shake her confidence; it only made her more certain of what she wanted.

“bro. i don’t give a fuck about none of that.” her voice was a slight mumble. her tone easy, dismissive. she didn’t care who liana was seeing. if anything, the idea of a challenge made this more fun. “she can have my cake and eat it, too.”

more laughs, because paige truly is just ridiculous. then nika, ever the one to call out paige’s chaos, jumped in. “okay, messy boots. do you even have time for a girlfriend right now?”

“who said anything about a girlfriend?”

azzi raised an eyebrow from her seat, studying her best friend’s face. she couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but something told her that this girl, liana, was consuming her thoughts way more than a regular amount.

paige adjusted her jersey, her mind already shifting back to the game. she needed to focus. there’d be time to deal with liana later. for now, it was all about basketball.

fortunately, the team lucked out and the game against maryland went down exactly as paige had expected—an easy dub, with the final score settling at 80 to 48. she wiped the sweat off her brow as the final buzzer sounded, her grin widening as the cheers of the crowd washed over her.

after the game, paige made her way to the sidelines where a cluster of fans waited, eager for autographs and pictures. she always made time for this part. it was grounding, in a way, reminding her why she did this in the first place. plus, it was fun. she smiled as she signed a few basketballs, shoes, and chatting easily with her supporters. she even spotted a little girl in a uconn jersey who blushed so hard she could barely speak when paige hugged her. she loved these moments. they made the grind worth it.

“paige, you did amazing today!” one fan gushed, shoving a poster her way.

the chatter almost always overlapped. “appreciate it,” paige replied, scribbling her signature. she tossed a few jokes, snapped some pictures, and soaked in the attention. but even with the crowd in front of her, her thoughts kept drifting to liana.

luckily, the girl had been out of sight during the game, so she was mostly out of mind. mostly. paige couldn’t help but wonder where she was—if she’d seen the game or if she’d already left.

as if on cue, paige caught sight of a familiar figure approaching from the edge of the court. her heart did a little flip that she wasn’t ready to acknowledge, so she focused on finishing up an autograph, trying to play it cool. but as liana got closer, paige found herself fumbling with the sharpie, her fingers betraying her nerves. she cursed under her breath, quickly adjusting her grip and finishing it off.

finally turning to liana, she shot her the biggest smile, her hands playing with the cap. liana’s eyes swept over her, taking in the sight of paige in her jersey, her arms still tense from the game and too buff to stay cordial. the girl’s breath hitched, and there was a moment where paige swore she saw something in her gaze—something like admiration, maybe more. it made paige stand a little taller, a little more ego-fulfilled because of what she’d picked up on.

“well, look who decided to show up,” paige teased, twirling the sharpie between her fingers as if she hadn’t just fumbled it a second ago. “you come to support your student, huh? very admirable of you, teach.”

liana smiled, her eyes still lingering on paige’s arms purposefully before meeting her gaze. “gotta support my students, right? especially the ones who are a little… extra credit.”

paige chuckled, not being able to contain her shit-eating grin as she rocked back and forth on her feet. she tipped her head back, maintaining eye contact the way she always did. “extra credit? i’ll take that as a compliment.” paige patted her chest, more specifically, her heart.

“ you should,” liana shot back, her voice light, eyebrows raised and teeth showing in a way that made paige’s chest tighten. it almost felt too good.

for a moment, paige forgot about the crowd around her. it was just liana and her, standing there in the aftermath of a game that didn’t seem nearly as important as this moment. she peeped how liana’s gaze lingered on her jersey, her arms, and even the construction of her face.

“so, listen,” paige started, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. liana stepped closer, moving out of the way so someone could get past them. she couldn’t help but feel a little bit exposed under paige’s eyes, but she liked it. not only was she taller, but she looked down at her like she was prey. liana wondered if she looked at everyone like this while talking to them. “a few of us are heading to ted’s after this. you should come.”

liana hesitated, just like before, but paige could tell she was considering it as she stuttered. “i don’t know…”

paige didn’t let her finish. “bring her.”

liana’s eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback. “what?”

“the girl you be with,” paige said, her voice steady and accent heavy. “she can come. jus’ want you there.”

liana’s expression softened. paige bueckers had been asking about her. if not that, someone had obviously known she’d cared enough to report back. liana continued to look at her, a mix of surprise and something else that paige couldn’t quite pin down. but whatever it was, it made her feel like she was winning. and paige liked to win.

“alright,” liana finally said, her lips curving into a small smile. “maybe i’ll stop by.”

“good,” paige replied, her grin returning full force. “i’ll see you there, then.”

ted’s was buzzing by the time paige and the team settled in. the usual crowd filled the bar—uconn students, locals. the team had claimed their spot, laughter spilling from their table as they recapped the game and teased each other over everything from missed shots to the post-game interviews. paige was in the middle of telling a story, spinning it out with her usual charm, but her eyes kept darting to the entrance. she was waiting, though she’d never admit it.

it had been about 30 minutes when she saw liana walk in. but she wasn’t alone. a girl followed close behind her, as expected, and paige took her time sizing her up, sucking in a breath.

naomi had brown dreadlocks that hung just past her shoulders, neat and well-kept. she wore a black tee that clung to her frame, paired with simple jeans and boots that looked worn in but sturdy. her presence was different from liana’s, who had changed into a mini skirt and a crop top—more solid, less playful. it made paige’s fingers itch to push at that calmness, to see what it would take to crack it.

as liana and naomi approached the table, paige kept her expression neutral, leaning back in her seat, arms crossed like she was just another teammate hanging out. no big deal. but anyone who knew her knew that she was anything but unbothered right now.

“hey, guys,” liana greeted, her voice warm as always as kk pulled her into an informal side hug, the rest of the team welcoming her normally, some a little more hyper with liquid courage. naomi stood beside her, offering a polite nod to the group.

paige took in the scene, her eyes flicking between the two. landing on liana, she let out a, “hey,” her tone casual. “nice to meet you.” that one was for naomi, paige’s head jerking up in an acknowledgment nod.

“same,” naomi replied, her voice smooth and even, her gaze briefly scanning paige before settling elsewhere.

introductions were quick, and soon enough, naomi found herself caught up in a conversation with aubrey about some mutual interest that paige couldn’t care less about. she watched as aubrey expertly engaged the girl, pulling her into the group with ease. aubrey had always been good at that. it was all too convenient, really, how aubrey was handling the distraction, and paige didn’t miss the cheeky smile aubrey sent her over naomi’s shoulder. it was a silent you’re welcome that paige shook her head at.

with naomi’s attention diverted, paige turned fully toward liana. the energy between them shifted slightly, becoming more charged now that there wasn’t anyone watching too closely. paige leaned in just a bit, enough to close the gap. “drinks?” the blonde suggested, chuckling at liana’s immediate nod as she slid in next to her, dragging the menu in front of her.

“you not a usual?” paige asked, eyebrows furrowing as she looked over her shoulder and at the menu. there was a sense of curiosity beneath her casual tone, a question of why someone like liana wasn’t a regular in a place like ted’s.

“nah, i don’t go out often,” liana replied. she picked up the menu, perfectly manicured fingers following under the words and scanning it like she was genuinely considering her options, but paige could tell her mind was elsewhere.

paige made the connection easily—it explained why she hadn’t seen liana around before. she leaned back slightly, taking a moment to study her profile. something she’d grown accustomed to. “makes sense,” she said, her voice more thoughtful now. “probably why i haven’t seen you around.”

liana nodded, still looking at the menu. “yeah, i’m usually busy with work. tutoring and stuff.”

paige’s curiosity peaked, and she turned her gaze and body more fully on liana. “so, how do you know naomi?” she asked, her tone carefully casual, though the question held more weight than she let on.

liana hesitated for a moment, then shrugged, her expression slipping into something a little more guarded. “we met through mutual friends. it’s… nothing serious,” she added quickly, her voice firm, as if she needed to make that point clear.

“right,” paige replied, her eyes lingering on liana, catching that hint of uncertainty beneath her words. was she lying? why’d she feel the need to?

liana met her blue hues, her lips curving into a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “right,” she echoed, though there was a slight tremor in her voice. they both knew what she was trying to convince herself of, and it wasn’t quite working.

a couple more drinks in, liana and paige had loosened up a mile. they talked about where they were from, life on campus, their experiences obviously extremely different, and the blonde had even gotten around to asking her about her tattoo. the one behind her ear. it was some intricate thing her mom used to draw before she passed—right before her first year.

somehow, the deep conversation topics hadn’t made anything awkward or less easy to talk about. it was too easy. and in all honesty, quite scary.

“you looked really good on the court tonight,” liana admitted, her voice softer, more personal as she let her eyes roam over paige. definitely liquid courage, but there was denying they’d had the same amount, and there was no mistaking the interest behind those words, the way her gaze lingered a little too long on paige’s arms, her legs.

“liana!” paige groaned, sitting back in her chair as a sheepish smile took over her face. it was the kind of grin that she tried to hide but couldn’t quite manage, not when liana was looking at her like that.

“what?” she responded, her tone innocent enough and high-pitched through a giggle, though her curls bounced with each turn of her head, making it clear she knew exactly what she was doing.

“you can’t say stuff like that,” paige muttered, though her grin only widened, betraying her words. she leaned in, elbows resting on the table, her eyes locked on liana’s like a challenge.

“why not?” liana shot back, leaning against her elbow, her voice dropping into a teasing whisper. somehow, her eyes looked more doe under the dimly lit bar, more seducing you could say. “you don’t like compliments?”

paige’s eyes narrowed, but there was no malice behind it—just the spark of a challenge she was more than willing to take on. “i like them just fine. but coming from you…”

she arched an eyebrow. “what about me?”

paige chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “you know exactly what i’m talking ‘bout.” she didn’t back down despite being ultimately defeated by liana’s boldness tonight. she could get used to it.

liana’s smile softened, the teasing edge still there, but there was something more genuine beneath it. “maybe i do,” she admitted quietly. she turned away, paige licking her lips as she studied the way her lips wrapped around her straw, and—yeah, that was it.

paige reached out, her fingers brushing against liana’s as she pulled her out of her seat, not bothering with excuses anymore. the need to be alone with her, to be away from naomi and her glances every couple minutes, was too strong to ignore. and it’s not like paige hadn’t thought about doing this since the moment she laid eyes on her, so…

liana was on her in an instant, pressing paige’s back against the single bathroom wall. her hands were everywhere—fingers threading into paige’s braids, tugging just enough to make her groan into her mouth. paige’s hands found liana’s hips before strolling down to her ass, lost in the sloppiness of the kiss and everything it brought—like another heartbeat. paige’s grip tightened on her thighs, pulling her closer, up into her arms and onto the sink.

liana was perched on the edge of the sink, legs pressed against the porcelain. it was a cold contrast, but the least of her worries. the kiss grew more desperate, more consuming, until paige pulled back slightly, her breath ragged, her eyes practically aching.

“you want this?” paige asked, her voice low, fingers already moving underneath liana’s skirt, seeking and teasing at the same time.

but just as her hand slipped higher, liana’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, stopping her. “it’s wrong,” liana whined slightly, as if it was hard to physically not do this. her eyes searched paige’s, trying to find a reason to stop, but it was clear she was struggling.

paige’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, her breath still coming in short, sharp bursts. “she your girlfriend?”

liana shook her head, the motion almost frantic, her curls bouncing with the movement. “no,” she whispered, the word barely audible above the pounding of their hearts.

the blonde’s lips curved into a slow smile. “then there’s no home to wreck,” she murmured. the moment those words left her mouth, it was like their thoughts snapped back into place, sharper and more urgent than before.

liana didn’t protest again. instead, she pulled paige closer by the collar of her shirt, the movement making her gasp, tongue poking the inside of her cheek with a smirk. paige’s hand found its way back under liana’s skirt, fingers grazing over the fabric of her underwear, teasing her.. make her squirm.

“look at you,” paige taunted, watching liana’s reactions. she slid her fingers back and forth, deliberately avoiding where liana wanted her most. “so wet already…“

her breathing picked up, hands gripping the edge of the sink as she tried to ground herself, her body betraying her, though. “paige, please…” she whispered, the desperation clear as day.

paige’s reaction was more than just one of satisfaction. just earlier this week she’d been asking what her name was, and now she was moaning it. her fingers finally slipped beneath the soaked fabric, finding her heat. she traced the outline of her folds, slow and deliberate, making liana whimper with every touch. her face stayed pressed into the blonde’s shoulder, the smell of some expensive cologne and fresh laundry filling her nostrils. she wanted every part of her.

paige didn’t make her wait any longer. she slipped one finger inside, feeling the tight warmth as liana clenched around her. she added her middle finger, her movements slow and deep, making sure she felt every inch. “so tight for me… say that shit again.”

liana took a moment to process what exactly she wanted her to say, her mind not even on the right planet. catching on, she moaned out a soft, “paige…” and she groaned. she started to thrust, her fingers moving and stopping at the base where her silver rings were. they curled up at one point in a come hither motion, the sensation causing liana to screw her eyes shut, mouth open pornographically wide.

liana moaned loudly, her back arching as paige’s pace quickened, the sound of their bodies filling the small bathroom. her thumb found her clit, rubbing tight circles that had liana gasping, her nails digging into her shoulders. “yes… right there… don’t—mm.. stop,” liana panted, her voice breaking with every thrust.

paige’s fingers worked relentlessly inside of her, her pace quickening as she felt liana tighten around her. she leaned in closer, her breath warm, and whispered in her ear, “i’m fuckin’ splitting you open, baby. you feel that?“

liana could only moan in response, her body shaking as paige’s thumb circled her clit with perfect precision, eliciting a different sound between each movement. she was right there, so close to coming, her mind completely lost in the moment. but just as she felt herself tipping over the edge, a sharp knock echoed through the bathroom door. “liana? you in there?” naomi’s voice cut through to the both of them, pulling liana back to reality with a harsh jolt. if that wasn’t a slap in the face, she didn’t know what was.

“fuck,” she mumbled, frustration clear in her tone as she clung to paige, trying to keep herself grounded in the moment, even as her mind screamed for her to get a grip.

paige’s own frustration mirrored liana’s, looking back at the door. she pulled her hand back with a quickness, watching liana struggle to catch her breath, deciding to help her down from the sink. she steadied her as if nothing had just happened between them, proceeding to follow up with a few lingering kisses on liana’s lips. intimate, sure—but blondie couldn’t resist.

“imma’ text you, alright?” her words were casual, but the look in her eyes wasn’t.

liana nodded, trying to get her thoughts in order, but she was still reeling from how quickly paige could shift from intense to gentle. it was throwing her off balance, and she didn’t like that. how does she do that? how does she make me want her even more everytime she says something? she knew she needed to get out of there before naomi started asking questions, but the entire situation didn’t feel real. they’d have some unfinished business to take care of by fate.

at the door, liana couldn’t help but fake a pout, a small attempt to regain some control, even if it was just a tease. but then paige stuck her fingers in her mouth mindlessly, licking them clean with wide eyes. liana’s mind went blank for a second, her first instinct being a gasp, heat flooding to her cheeks in a swarm as she swatted at paige’s arm. “you’re so—” she started, but paige’s low giggle cut her off, dodging the hits. god, she’s infuriating. infuriatingly cute.

“go on,” paige urged with that damn smirk, and liana knew she was right. she needed to walk out first, leave paige to follow behind like nothing had happened.

with one last look, liana stepped out of the bathroom, her heart pounding. as the door closed behind her, she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.. not look suspicious.

naomi was waiting just outside, looking at liana with a questioning expression. “you good?”

she forced a smile, nodding quickly. “yeah, just… needed a minute.”

[dcxdpdabbles]

There are so many fics out there where Danny is either adopted by or the biological son of Bruce. In many of these he might have an existential crisis but other wise he is fine and happy to be part of the BatFam. Where are the ones where he fights against this just doesn't want to connect with Bruce of the rest of the family.

One: Bruce is a billionaire and Danny has had some bad experience with Vlad trying to adopt/get him as a son. So even if Bruce is one of "the good ones" Danny does't like billionaires.

Two: Danny for the most part grew up in a mostly normal family and home, with two Parents and a sibling. Most of the BatFam were only children and parents are dead or came from dysfunctional homes. I think Duke is the only one who really had a normal childhood.

Three: The Fenton family is pretty openly affectionate with each other and are pretty normal emotionally. Danny has a great relationship with all of them (Danny went evil in the timeline where they all died). Most of the Batfam is emotionally constipated.

Four: Danny is used to his boundaries being respected. I don't think that the Batfam is great at that. With Bruce needing to know everything, Tim's stalking tendencies, Barbra's hacking, just to name the obvious.

Danny knew that he was adopted into the Fentons. His parents had never hidden it from him, but they never treated him as anything besides their child.

He had come into their lives one day when one of Maddie's old high school friends had called, bawling that she had gotten pregnant and that her husband wasn't the father. He had discovered the truth and thrown her out, leaving her pregnant and alone on the streets of Gotham.

Maddie had been furious at the affair- she hated disloyalty- but had decided to help her only for the baby's sake.

She had driven over multiple state lines back to her home city to pick up the friend only to find out she had taken her life and left her newborn son to Maddie. While Maddie had been able to escape the hellhole that was Gotham, Rebecca never got the chance, not with her average intelligence.

In high school, the two were as close as sisters until Rebecca fell into the whisky bottles her father carelessly left around. She blossomed into a beautiful woman upon their graduation- more so than Maddie-, turning from a sweet homebody into someone who got into exclusive parties and powerful men.

Maddie had slowly drifted away from her, so far away at college, and Rebecca fell further and further into the party scene. It was a surprise that she settled down for marriage and Maddie truly believed that she had been happy with her husband.

That's why Danny was such a surprise. Maddie did not know who Danny's biological father was, but she did not care. Not after they placed the sobbing infant into her arms, and she realized that she was his mother now.

She immediately phoned Jack to tell him what had happened, and he told Jazz she was a big sister before the call ended. They told him the story about when he started to learn his colors. Not with her taking her life, of course; that was when Danny turned fourteen. This was only a few days before Danny revealed he was Phantom to them.

They were first shocked, but then they became supportive. Phantom now had two proud ghost hunters following him, shooting photos instead of guns.

It was embarrassing, but it was also nice of them.

And that was that. Danny is a Fenton, adopted, but a child of Maddie and Jack Fenton all the same.

He never gave his biological parents a thought. In fact, he all but forgot about them until Sam convinced him to take an ancestry test. He had allowed her to swipe his mouth, package his DNA, and send it off to see where his people came from, completely forgetting that he would not match with Jazz, who had done the same thing a month prior.

His results were shocking, to say the least.

Somehow, someway, Rebecca Silver had been in the system of DNA samples, and they had matched him to her alongside his biological father.

Bruce Wayne. Rebecca had an affair with Bruce Wayne, arguably one of the wealthiest men in the country, and they had sent him a message to let him know he matched with his son.

An eccentric billionaire has just been told that Danny was his. He knew that song and dance well, and it was never fun to dance to. Danny could only stare at the results with dread as Sam apologized profoundly.

"Maybe he won't see it." Tucker tried. "I mean, Wayne is probably so busy with rich people stuff he doesn't have time to even look at his emails. Especially ones that will come in spam since it's comersolized."

"Yeah, Maybe" Danny doesn't think he's that lucky.

A month later, the Fenton's home phone rings. His parents are working on a new invention on the dinning room table, Danny is stretched out in front of the TV watching a mindless cartoon and Jazz is crocheting in the love chair.

It's a typical Tuesday night where everyone is doing their own thing but close enough to each other that they can call it family time. Jazz is the closest to the house phone so she picks it up with a cheerful "Fenton house, this is Jasmine."

Her smile slowly slips away as all the blood drains from her face. Alarmed by her reaction, Danny sits up. "Jazz? What's wrong?"

His words have his parents' heads snapping up, zoning in on their daughter's rapidly growing destress. Yes, they get distracted often with their work, but the Fentons have always been loving parents.

They quickly spring into action.

"Jazzy-pants?" His dad says, walking up to her and taking the phone from her slack hand. He covers the speaking end of it, not paying attention to the call as his mom hugs his sister. "What's the matter?"

"It's... Bruce Wayne's lawyer," Jazz says faintly. "He's calling about Danny. He said that Mr. Wayne has been attempting to take Danny back and that they are going to take us to court soon."

The room goes dead quiet, and Danny snorts. "He can't do that without a letter or something. Come on Jazz, it's obviously a prank."

Someone at school likely found out and thought it would be funny to make "the biggest loser of Casper High" Danny Fenton, think a billionaire wanted him as a son. Honestly, he wouldn't put it past the A-listers.

He laughs to show how stupid this prank is, but neither of his parents joins him. Instead, his mother closes her eyes and whispers, "We received his court papers weeks ago. We've been trying to get a lawyer."

What.

She pushes Jazz into his dad's arms, where his sister is slowly panicking. His dad tries to soothe her as his mom opens the drawer under the TV, pulling out three orange envelopes. She looks remorseful as she hands them to Danny. "We didn't want you to worry. I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner. Vlad said he would help, but he wasn't sure what he could do against such a powerful man"

And there, in overly complicated terms, is clear as day. Bruce Wayne wanted full custody of Danny Fenton and was willing to take the Fentons to court to get it done.

The man- who has never so much as met Danny, much less have a right to say what happens to him- was accusing his parents of child abuse and child neglect! He not only was trying to take Danny away but Jazz as well!

Where did this man get the audacity!?

"I don't want to go with him!" He shouts rage, making his eyes glow green. "I don't even know him!"

"I know, sweetie. I won't let him take you" His mom says, yanking him into a protective hug, and he realizes that her shirt is getting wet with his tears. Tears that fall just like the woman who raised him. "Everything will be alright."

It won't be, he knows, but he won't tell her that. He just lets his mother hold him, and when his sister and father crash into the hug a second later, he holds them just as tight.

He's not sure how they will win against Bruce Wayne, but Danny will fight his biological father every step of the way. He will not be his son.

______________________________________________________________

Bruce stares at the photo of Danny Fenton- his son. His boy, whom he wasn't aware was alive until a month ago- and the reports from concerned teachers and whatever information Barbra could pull from his classmate's social media.

Dramatically dropping grades.

Clear signs of sleepless nights.

Flinches whenever his parents pull out "ghost hunting" gear.

Strange bruises and cuts along his arms and legs.

His small stature is no longer growing properly like his peers.

It all pointed to one thing. The Fentons were abusing his son and Bruce would bet the sister was suffering from the same treatment if her own grade dropping, sleepless eyes, and desperate race to adulthood were any indication.

Bruce laces his hands, resting his chin on them as the Batcomputer slowly flips through various reports being quickly dismissed by incompetent social workers who all claim it was Ghost Hunter related and not a cause for concern.

Those same social workers all seemed to have gotten quite generous donations from one Vlad Masters, a well-known family friend of the Fentons.

He hates corruption that allows children to be hurt, more so when it;'s his own children.

"When do we go retrieve Brother?" Damian asks, green eyes narrowing in rage as the reports scroll slowly. Ever since he found out Danny is a blood sibling, all Damian has been talking about is getting his elder brother home. "I am displeased with how long it's been, Father."

"Soon," Bruce promises, aware the rest of his children gather around him. They don't speak, but he feels their protective rage at what Danny has gone through, and he knows they will use every last bit of their training to get Danny home. "Either through the courts or in person. Danny will be with us come summer."

"Good," grunts Jason. "I'll have a little chat with his adoptive scumbags when we get him."

"I'll help," Dick tacks on.

"I'll make it look like an accident," Tim says, voice leveled but eyes blazing as the reports get to the neglect section. He has personal issues about that.

Bruce has never been so proud. "Court date is set for three weeks. They can't weasel their way out of it this time."

Don't worry son, he thinks to Danny, I'm going to save you.

[youngtacoes]

Strangers, no more

Cooper Howard aka The Ghoul x f!reader

Author's note: this is a long one !! i've had this scenario in my head for a long ass time and i just had to get it out on paper. cooper isn't as cruel in this one, sorry if that's not your thing, but he can be soft sometimes too! fyi: reader is 18+ and everything is consensual! If you're only here for the smut you can skip toward the end.

Word count: 6,8k

Summary: Cooper is a bounty hunter struggling for caps and you need to be transported safely across the wasteland in "good condition", luckily it pays well. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: 18+ Mentions of r*pe, impregnation & torture, religious cult, angst, virgin!reader, losing virginity, graphic smut

~

It was getting bad, really damn bad. Days of good-for-nothing bounty jobs, vial after vial, cough attack after cough attack. He needed the caps desperately if he was to keep himself from turning feral anytime soon. He’d been taking small jobs here and there, just enough to keep himself at bay for a few days, but he knew he couldn’t keep going at this rate for much longer. He needed a bigger job, a bigger cash prize, a bigger bounty, but every time he stopped by the wall of people with prizes attached to them, he found himself disappointed in how low the numbers were. That is until he notices a fresh face staring back at him, hidden behind newer posters, large letters displayed across. "BIG JOB", and this one has an even larger number attached.

He steps forward, pushing the other posts away and rips the new face off the wall to study the number closer. Yup, he read it right.

Five thousand caps.

"Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered.

A young girl, maybe in her 20s. She looks well put together, innocent, and has a sincere smile on her face. For the first time in a very, very long time, he found himself wondering what her story was and why she was worth so damn much, but he didn’t like to dwell on it for too long. A job is a job, and this was going to be worth every damn cap.

On the poster, it states that she was to get picked up at the coordinates provided and to keep her in "good condition". Well, shit, that might just be the hardest part. The ghoul had never been one to take care of his captives, and most often he preferred if the poster stated "good dead or alive". This was definitely going to be different, and if it wasn’t for the "good condition" detail, he’d almost think it was too good to be true. Perhaps even think it was a trap.

~

It’s midnight, and you’re seated by your desk with a pen in hand, drawing carefully and concentrated on making art on this dirty sheet of old newspaper, but it was good enough for you. You drew flowers and insects from an old pre-war book about nature and their hidden treasures. You were always fascinated by the pre-war times, and though you will never know what it was truly like, you liked to imagine who you would’ve been back in those times.

It’s your way of forgetting about the current state of your life and the predicament you found yourself in. You were born in the wasteland, to a mother who did her best to protect you, but in the end, she had been brutally murdered by a group of raiders who attacked your farm, and you were taken captive by them at the age of 9. You spent a few horrid days with them before your current group found you and bought your freedom from them.

To be fair, you’ve been treated quite well by this group, and you thought you had a family in them at one point. That was until a few months ago when they decided you needed to be isolated from the rest for reasons you still didn’t quite understand. The leader of the group, Margot, had carefully selected you for a special assignment, and made sure to tell you the isolation was for your own good. Apparently you needed special treatment before a long journey to a sacred place called Halfway that was waiting for your arrival.

Your fellow peers would come and visit you to show their excitement, though you didn’t quite understand it, it must be something good with all the positive buzz that’s surrounding you. So your head got filled with all sorts of scenarios and dreams of where you were going and what luxuries you were to experience on this assignment. Though you had your doubts that it was all just a coverup for something else, you didn’t have any reason not to trust your group. They had been nothing but kind to you as long as you’d been there.

You’re startled out of your thoughts by heavy knocks on your locked door and a command shouted from behind.

"Lights out!"

You sigh at the command. "Yes madam!"

You don't bother packing up your drawing supplies, you'll be continuing with it tomorrow anyway, and the day after, probably. You find your bed and blow out the nearby candles.

Every night you can't help but wonder when your assignment and journey would begin. You had all sorts of feelings and questions about it, but every time you tried talking to Margot, she would give you answers that didn’t really answer anything at all, so you gave up on trying to figure it out a long time ago.

~

The next morning you’re awaken rudely by the guards coming into your room and practically dragging you out of bed in your dazed state.

"Wha- HEY-" you try to muster what’s going on, but before even getting a word out, you’re on your feet and Margot stands before you with her hands on her back.

"Morning lucky one. It’s time, the day we have waited long for is finally here," She's so serious in her delivery, it almost frightens you.

It’s happening.

"We’ve hired someone to transport you safely across the wasteland for your assigment, they’re here and won’t be kept waiting. Get ready in 5 and say your goodbyes, quickly."

Suddenly it feels like it’s all happening too fast, and a slight panic rise inside you. Margot must've notices your panicked stare, cause her features soften, and she steps closer to you.

"You’ve come so far, and I’m so proud of you,» She smiles at you with encouragement, "This is your moment, and I know you will succeed and make us all proud."

Her words give you enough to calm down before the panic escalated. And you give her a nod that you indeed got this. You can do this. You’ve done hard things before, this shouldn’t be any different.

"Yes madam," you say smiling back at her. She flashes you one last smile and a wink before turning and walking back out.

Outside you find everyone from your group waiting in the corridors. They smile at you, some coming to greet you, give you kisses on the cheek as you’re led out of the main building by the guards. It’s all a bit much, but this must be pretty big deal. Margot waits for you by the gate to your commune, but she's not alone. A dark figure stands just outside, looking impatient.

You’re filled with scepticism as you walk up them, but you have to put your trust in her. She notices you and takes a hold of your hands with a smile.

"You will do great," And the wave of panic that had a hold of you before, washes off of you completely. You nod confidently now, and you start believing that this is actually gonna be totally fine.

You feel the dark figure moving closer to you, his hat covering his face just enough to keep him anonymous for the time being. He still looks terrifying, but you have to trust this man is here only to protect you on your journey to Halfway, and that he will do his best to do so.

Margot shoots the man one last look, "Good condition," the man still doesn’t show his face, but he nods.

"Yes ma’am. Let’s go princess," You realize he’s talking to you, and you’re startled by the nickname at first, but you decide not to fuzz, at least not yet. He’s already started walking away, so you find yourself running up behind him, waving back to your leader for the last time, only she doesn’t wave back, she doesn’t even flash a smile. She stares back at you with a stern look as the gates to the commune come to a close.

It doesn’t give you the best feeling, but perhaps she was feelings sad you were leaving and didn’t want to show any emotions. Either way, you try to push the sight out of your mind, doing your best to follow the stranger. He doesn’t say a word for a long time, and you find that maybe it’s best we keep to ourselves for the time being, but as an hour or so go by, you find yourself a little curious.

You clear your throat, "Excuse me, sir?"

He doesn’t reply, but shoots a quick look over his shoulder to indicate that he’s listening.

"How long do you think we’ll be walking for?"

Given that Margot had given you absolutely no information about this journey, you figured it was worth a shot to ask your new strange companion.

"Couple’a days, if we don’t get sidetracked," His voice ragged, western, serious.

"Oh," not really sure if you dared asking for further details. You’d prefer to keep it peaceful for as long as possible, but you find the courage to ask anyway.

"Sidetracked by what?"

You hear him sigh, "Unnecessary bullshit."

‘Whatever that means’ you think to yourself. He doesn’t seem like the talkative type, but after months of isolation you find yourself rather desperate for someone to talk to, and if you are to spend days with this man, you figure it’s worth a shot trying to get to know him for whatever time you have to spend together.

"I see.. I’ll be on the lookout for that I suppose."

You can barely believe your ears when you hear a chuckle coming from the stranger in front of you.

After that positive feedback, you find yourself braver.

"I didn’t catch your name?"

His posture changes after the question left your mouth.

"I didn’t give to ya,"

"Well, I’m Y/N, but everyone calls me Lucky. It’s a bit of a recent nickname though. You see, I just spend 6 months in completely isolation-"

You get cut off abruptly when you find yourself crashing into the strangers back, realizing he's come to an complete halt. He turns around, his figure towering slightly over you. His hat is no longer doing it’s job to cover his face, and utter horror washes over you as it's fully visable in the golden hour light.

"Listen sweetheart, I’m here to do this goddamn job. I don’t wanna hear your whole life story, and you sure as hell won’t be hearing mine. How about we keep our histories to ourselves and try to get this over with as quickly as fucking possible. That sound good to you?"

Your eyes aren’t able to leave his face. His sunken eyes, skin looking like it's been melted by the sun, an obvious nose missing. A ghoul, a ghoul is transporting you. You’ve not met a ghoul before, and those you’ve heard stories of have been grotesque. Fair enough they had been feral, but who’s to say this one won’t turn?

You get the gist of what he’s saying, and simply nod in agreement, not wanting to make this trip any more uncomfortable than it already is.

His eyes bore into your own, and he’s a lot closer than you’d prefer. For a second you think his eyes dart down to your lips before he turns around to keep walking, but that would be crazy, and very disturbing.

~

Nightfall comes fast, and you’re finding yourself worried for where you’ll be sleeping for the night. You really don’t wanna ask the ghoul, but your steps are getting shorter and slower, and you think the Ghoul have noticed cause he starts walking off track and leads you to a broken down abandoned house off the road.

"Stay here," he says before entering the house, gun up, ready to shoot. You do as he says and wait patiently for him to clear the coast. It doesn’t take long before you hear squealing and two shots being fired. You’re not sure whether to go in or run, but it doesn't matter anyway cause you freeze up completely in these situations. All you can do is hope that the ghoul knows what he's doing.

He comes back to the door a few minutes later, gesturing for you to come in, you’re hesitant, but you do. It's not like you have much of a choice anyway, "What was the shooting about?"

In his left hand he holds a dead radroach, and you find yourself wondering why he’s holding it. That's so fucking gross.

"You should be grateful. I got us some lunch the road," he says, flashing you a smirk. It's almost like he knew you’d be repulsed by it.

"Uhm, y’know what? I think I’m good, for the time being." You try to be nice, but you feel like you might not have a say in the matter. This might be the only food you get for a while.

"Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll make a fire and we’ll put it on the grill."

You want to roll your eyes and complain, but you force yourself to give him a smile and if anything, show some appreciation. He did in fact just catch you a meal.

You’re able to swallow some of the grilled radroach, but after the fresh foods you had grown accustomed to from your commune, you found this hard to stomach.

Nightfall has fallen completely now, and you’ve done your best to make a comfortable sleeping spot by the fire. The ghoul sits nearby keeping watch, and you find yourself very curious of his past and who he is, or who he used to be. Thinking back to his speech earlier about keeping your histories to yourselves reminds you not to ask, but he didn’t say anyting about asking about where you were going.

"What do you know about Halfway?" You watch him closely for any hints he migth give away, "Is it as grand as everyone makes it out to be?" You lay on your side, arm resting under your head.

He doesn’t look at you, eyes fixated on the fire. "How about you get some rest, alright?" he avoids your question. How annoying.

You turn to lay on your back with a puff of annoyance. «Nobody wants to tell me anything,"

"Maybe there's a reason for that."

You turn to look at him, his eyes still not meeting yours. "What is that supposed to mean?" By the sound of it, nothing good.

"Look it's not my job to inform you of shit, and if your leader wanted you to know, trust me darling, she would've told ya."

His eyes flicker up to look directly at yours this time, and it catches you off guard. Not knowing what else to say, you decide to turn to your side, away from him. This whole thing is giving you a really bad feeling.

You’re back on track the next day. Your legs sore from the day before. Having been in isolation for 6 months will do that to you, you guessed, but you'll manage.

The ghoul hasn't said a word yet today, and though you didn't exactly get the answers you were looking for last night, you refused to give up completely.

"What did Margot mean when she said good condition?"

He doesn’t answer, of course he doesn’t. You sigh,

"Look, I don’t mean to be annoying. Truly, I’d just like to know what is waiting for me. That’s all, and I really don't see the harm in that." Still nothing.

"Hey! It’s not kind to ignore someone when they're talking to y-" The ghoul quickly turns, a rope firm in his hands. Where did that come from? He grabs your hands, tying them together before you’re able to protest.

"Hey- what’re you doing!?" You look at him in disbelief, anger and panic all in one.

"Trust me, it’s for your own good," You laugh at that, yeah right. Before you’re able to mock him, he takes out a piece of cloth and wraps it around your head, specially over your mouth, and it's keeping you from saying what's on your mind. For a second you’re actually fearing for your life.

"Listen, gorgeous. We’re about to pass through some dangerous territory, and the people in these parts would do a lot to get their hands on a pretty litte thing like yourself. You follow my lead and keep your mouth shut, can you do that for me?"

You look for any lies in his eyes, but you genuinely believe him. It’s not like you can argue against him anyway, but you put your trust in him and give a nod in response.

You walk for a short while longer before you actually start seeing other people on your path. They seem rough around the edges. Hostile, but not aggressive, yet anyway. You walk past a few who seem to be intrigued, but not interested enough to take their chance at battle with the ghoul. That is until a few of them start gathering in front of you. Four men stand before your path, making it impossible to keep walking without confrontation.

"Gentlemen, how do you do?" The ghoul seems to do his best to keep it friendly, not wanting to create an unnecessary conflict with precious cargo at risk.

"What’ve you got for us ghoul?" As you observe, you can tell some of them are clearly on heavy combat inhancing chems, might be a harder fight if it comes down to it.

"Delivery, to Halfway. Can’t lose this one I’m afraid." He says it so confidently, completely standing his ground, but still keeping it non threatening. The men seem intrigued, and even exchange laughs between themselves. You wonder what they find so funny.

"That religious sacrifice place? What a lucky girl,"

"Seems like she’s up for a hell of a good time,"

"Fellas, if you don’t mind, we’re on a bit of a tight schedule," The ghoul tries to interrupt their 'friendly' chatter, but to no avail.

"They only take virgins up there don’t they? That’s like their whole point?" One of the guys ask the other three.

"Yeah, it’s some crazy religious cult. They torture them and impragnate them for like 10 years or something, or at least that’s what I’ve heard."

You freeze at their words. That can’t be it. That’s not what’s been told to you. They’re joking, making it up to scare you. It’s not true.

"Crazy rich though, you must be getting a lot of caps for this huh?" Suddenly their tone is not so friendly anymore, but the ghoul doesn’t budge. He keeps his hand on his holstered gun, the other holding the rope that binds your hands.

"Lucky for you, we’re not looking to take her off your hands. This time anyway," They laugh once more, patting the ghoul on his shoulder before walking off, letting you pass. He pulls on the rope to shake you out of your frozen state, and you jolst forward, trying to keep up with him. But you're disassociating, not paying a single mind to anything around you. You're too much in your head about what was just said, and you'd like to say you didn't believe a single word, but for some reason you do.

You keep walking in silence, time becomes irrelevant when you're all up in your head. You don’t notice the radstorm closing in, nor the rain that has already started pouring. If anything is in your favor, it's that you pass by a town with an abandoned pre-war hotel that offer a room for 100 caps a night. For whatever reason, the ghoul decides to do that for you. You don’t ask questions, you don't care to.

Soaked, shivering and your legs just barely keeping you up anymore, the ghoul places you down on the couch in the room given to you. You let him guide you, and for once, you're glad he doesn't have much to say. He lowers himself down in front of you and starts taking off the disgusting saliva soaked cloth from your mouth.

You wipe your mouth your hand, "Thank you."

He keeps his mouth shut and starts working on untying the rope from your hands. You watch him crouched before you, he's being gentle when removing the knots. A horrifying reminder of what you won't be experiencing at Halfway, if the men from earlier was telling the truth that is. This thought is what breaks you, and the tears start trickling down your tired face. There's no point holding it back anymore.

He's looking at you, so clearly trying to hide the concern on his face as he stands up and walks to the door.

"I’ll head down to the square to look for some food,"

Whatever.

Your silence is making him uncomfortable, so he leaves. You stay seated, replaying the words spoken between the men from earlier, over and over in your head.

Everyone you knew had made Halfway seem like such an amazing place. That you were lucky to be going, you were chosen. The thought makes you want to throw up.

You don’t register that the ghoul is back, fresh mutfruits placed in front of you on the coffee table, and though you are starving, you can’t bring yourself to even eat one.

"Eat," he says sternly. You just shake your head.

"M’not hungry," you sniffle, drying your tears with the palm of your hand.

"It’s not nice to lie, sweetheart. You haven’t had anything to eat since the damn radroach. Eat," He's trying to act concerned, but you don't believe it for a second. You scoff and look up to meet his eyes, and he’s looking right back at you, an annoyed expression on his face. You can’t believe this guy.

"Why do you care if I eat or not? Let me be," You're so tired, and all you want is to sleep. Gradually rising from the couch, you head towards the bed.

"Please," his plead makes you stop in your tracks.

"Please eat, you're really gonna need the strength," he seems desperate, almost.

You turn around to see him standing motionless by the coffee table, clearly attempting to compose himself.

"No," you're stern in your reply.

He's growing increasingly annoyed, angry even, because he knows he can't force you or harm you in any way.

"Whatever good condition means, I’m sure they'll be pleased as long as I’m alive, right?" Your voice gradually getting louder. "Being that their plan is to torture me for 10 years and all, they must have lots of stimpacks around to keep me alive enough to birth their whole next generation of psychos, don't you think?" Tears start falling.

"Don’t make me beg again," His eyes are shut, as if he's trying to block out your words, as if they affect him somehow. what a fucking joke.

"You’re so afraid you won’t get your paycheck. Well fuck you, and fuck the caps they’re paying you for this," you say it with so much pain and hatred, and you’re sure you’ll regret it later but you don’t have an inch of fuck to give at the moment.

Suddenly you see his angry features fall, and he catches himself in a cough. It's grotesque, and it seems to be getting worse with each one. He looks at you with disrepair, and you can tell he's struggling to catch his breath. You don't know what to do, but you're getting scared for him now. It looks horrifying, but before you're able to come to his aid, he scurries out the room.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. What just happened? A part of you wanted to run after him to make sure he was okay, but at the same time you wouldn't mind too much if he left and never came back. Shaking, you decide to tuck yourself into the left side of the bed. Trying not to think about how dirty it is, you curl yourself into a ball and cry out every last drop.

You’re never able to fall asleep, the tears just keep coming. You thought about running away, but knowing that the ghoul was getting paid a lot for this job, he would likely find you again in no time. What would be the point?

Your sobs are suddenly interrupted by the door opening, and you quiet yourself down to listen closely to every sound. The sound of the ghouls boots scraping the floor as he makes his way to the couch, his coat and gear getting thrown down on it. You decide to pretend that you’re already asleep as you hear him make his way to the bed. Feeling it dip slightly as he lay down in it.

But your cover is blown when you sniffle from the snot in your nose. You damn yourself as a sigh from the stranger fills the room, and you start feeling embarrassed about the way you treated him earlier. It’s not him you should be angry at, if anything it’s Margot and your group. The ghoul is just doing his job, to collect a price which he must need desperately, you can’t really blame him. He owes you nothing.

"Cooper," his raspy voice turned soft for a second.

"What?"

"My name is Cooper, some call me Coop. Whichever rolls of your tongue the best."

You feel awful now, "I’m sorry," Wiping away the tears and the snot to the best of your ability.

"For what sweetheart?" He sounds like he already knows what you’re apologising for, but decides to ask anyway for his own amusement.

"For cursing you out, it’s not your fault, and I shouldn’t blame you," You say, already feeling better for apologizing.

You both stay silent for a while, only sniffles from your nose filling the room. It’s embarrassing, you feel like such a child.

"C’mere darling," He says it in such a soft way. You can barely believe your ears. Looking over your shoulders you see him looking at you, only the dim light of a burning candle nearby to light your surroundings. He’s on his back, gesturing with his hand for you to lay in the crook of his arm. You contemplate it for a second, but it doesn’t take much convincing if you’re being honest. You’d take any form of comfort to make you forget this whole thing, even for just a night.

You turn around, inching closer under the sheets, finding a comfortble spot in the crook of his neck, your head resting on his arm. You’ve never been this close to someone except your mom when you were younger. It’s scary in a way, being this vulnerable and intimate with someone you barely know.

Your breaths are shallow, thoughts racing through your mind and it’s making your heart is beat so fast. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, his body doesn’t give anything away.

You lay like this for a while, just a few dry sniffles and breaths heard between you. You recognize the closeness of him.

But you want to get even closer. You want him wrapped around you and have him absorb your whole being. It may come from having learned that you have extreme trauma waiting for you, and you can’t help but want to experience something good and genuine before that.

Your breaths become heavier, deeper, and you feel yourself wanting something; wanting him. This could go terribly wrong, but what exactly do you have to lose? Fuck it. You push away the what if's and inch your face closer to Cooper’s neck, your hands find themselves carefully making their way to his chest. He doesn’t react, and from what you can tell, he doesn't seem to mind.

You see his breathing stop, and you’re feeling brave. So you test the waters, gently sliding your hand up to his chest, letting them glide across his shirt. While your lips carefully grace the rough skin on his neck. You hear him puff out the air he’s been holding in while curiously letting letting you wander, but he doesn’t seem to resist.

When he doesn’t stop you, it’s easy to find the courage to keep going. Your hand wanders further down his chest, stomach, but he catches your hand right before it reaches the hem of his pants.

"What do you think you’re doin'?" He doesn't sound disappointed, more so curious. You feel a bit embarrassed, but you stand your ground, like you've already stated, you’ve got nothing to lose.

"Please Coop," just a whisper in his ear, "Please show me what it’s meant to feel like", a plea, practically begging.

He can’t help but let out a low growl, obviously turned on by the thought. "I’m meant to deliver you as a virgin, sweetheart."

You want to cry again, a sob brewing deep in your throat. "Please, they won’t know- They won’t find out," Your lips find his neck again, leaving trails of kisses up to his jawline, tongue swirling along the rough surface. You never thought you would find yourself in this position 2 days ago, but here you were, begging for a bounty hunter, a ghoul, to take your virginity.

Lucky for you, he seems to be out of fucks to give and lets go of your hand after only a few seconds of thinking it over. You don’t hesitate to let your free hand go under his shirt to feel his skin. It’s so textured, but you don’t mind. You’ve never touched anyone this way before, there wasn't much to compare it to.

Your hand travel lower until it finds a buldge. Being that this is your first time being intimate with somone, you’re startled by the unfamiliarity of it at first. But it doesn't take you long to realize that you were the reason for his cock hardening, and that turned you on more than anything.

Cooper, who's been laying still for some time now, has clearly been contemplating if he should stop this whole ordeal or not. He wants to touch you so bad, show you how good he can make you feel. Have you shaking with pleasure because of him, but he seems to let you be in control for the time being. You didn't mind, and it gave you some reassurance that this wouldn't be rushed, nor that he would force you to do something you didn't want to.

Your hands are shaking at this point as you try to unbotton his pants, and Cooper can't help but to give you a hand in your already broken state. You’re eager, and waste no time removing your own.

"Get over here darlin'," he says with that gentle voice again, gesturing for you to straddle his hips. His length is exposed now, and you feel yourself getting nervous with anticipation. You find it hard to believe that he's gonna fit inside you, it seems impossible.

Yet, you gain the confidence to sit up and make your way across his lap. You're not sure where to sit specifically, but you want to study him further and therefore straddle his thighs. His cock in view in front of you, laid across his stomach, stiff and drooling. Cooper doesn't say anything, but he watches you carefully, wondering what your next move will be. You don't pay attention to him for now.

You do however find yourself curious, and grab the length in front of you. It's warm, and you circle a thumb across the top where it's drooling a clear liquid. You hear him hum under you, an approval of the gesture you just performed. Butterflies take over your stomach, and you feel throbbing in your lower area. You want his cock so desperately inside you now, just to hear those sounds from him again.

"Sit up for me'," the gruffness of his voice draws your attention to him. You obliged without hesitation, "Scoot closer," and you do, of course you do.

He stretches a hand down between your thigs and you're on your knees straddling his hips. Rough fingers run between your folds and they run smoothly.

"Well fuck me, you really want this huh?" He's teasing you now. You nod frantically.

"Use your words sweetheart," He inserts a finger in your untouched hole. You gulp at the sensation, "Yes- yes I do-".

He hums again, moving the finger inside you, bending and stroking. It feels strange, but not painful. "I know you do honey, but I need to make sure you can handle me first, alright?"

You nod frantically, you knew already that you were prepared to do anything he wanted. "Yes, sir,"

Without warning he adds another finger, and it's starting to sting a little. You try to control your breathing as he starts moving them in and out of you, "I know it hurts baby, but it's only for a lil while. You trust me, don't you?"

You nod again, "Yes- Fuck!" He was getting agressive with it now, but he's hitting a spot you didn't know existed and it's sending you to other dimensions in your mind. Your eyes are rolling back while his fingers work hard between your thighs. It's unlike anything you've felt before.

"There we go.. You're gonna be so good for me aren't you, princess?" His words barely register as you find yourself gripping his arm and holding on for dare life to not lose your balance.

"Mhm- y- yes," and before you knew it, his hand is removed from between your folds and you're left heaving for your breath and trying to focus your vision again.

"I think you know what to do, darlin'," You need him badly now, even more now that you know what pleasures are waiting.

You place yourself over his cock, and Cooper watches in patiently as he puts his hands on your thighs, stroking them gently.

You grab his length and place it under your opening, ready to lower yourself on him. "Slow now," he warns as you as his tip meets your entrance, before letting it slip in just an inch. You both hiss, him with pleasure, you with pain.

"That’s it, doll," He keeps his eyes on you as you wince in pain. Taking deep breaths as your hole adjusts itself to his full size, but you’re feeling impatient and start pushing yourself even further despite the burning sensation. You figure it’s better to get it over with as fast as possible so you can actually start enjoying this.

Cooper hums, "Patience sweetheart," you lock eyes with him, and he genuinely seems to care. He lets you have complete control over this, not pushing any limits, and it makes you feel even more aroused, being in charge; seeing his eyes roll back with edged pleasure, yet doing nothing to force his way in.

You feel comfortable enough to start moving now, and you do your best not to squeal when you feel it burn and sting. Finally your skin touch, your ass gracing his thighs, and though it’s still stinging a bit, you can feel his whole length inside you, and it drives you mad.

"Just like that, princess," You hear his soft grunts below, and it reminds you to start moving. Slowly easing yourself off him, just to lower back down again, trying to find the right pace and angle for it to hit the right spot. It doesn't take long before you feel Cooper bucking his hips just ever so slightly to help you out, and he does. He knew exactly how to thurst his cock to give you the extreme pleasure you were searching for.

"More- please," you moan, your hands find his chest to lean on. Nails digging into his already ragged skin.

"God, you feel so fuckin' good around me, darling," His hips buck into you again, pulling himself almost all the way out before slamming himself back inside you. It's rough, and his hands have found your ass to grab to help move you to his rhythm. You're dazed, eyes barely open from sheer pleasure radiating deep inside you. It's making your breath hitched, and your moans spurt out in cries.

"My- fuckn'- god-" you struggle to draw a proper breath, your vision is blurred and rolled back, barely open.

He’s grunting with pleasure beneath you, seeing you completely lost to the way his cock fills your tight cunt, the next time rougher than last. You both sense that you're getting closer to an edge, and that’s when you realize how lightheaded you are, probably from the lack of food you’ve had today, and Coop notices how your figure slowly droops with exhaustion.

"Woah easy darling-" You feel him sit up under you, and without much effort he sits up and holds you tight to his chest, flipping you over on your back in a swift motion.

You would act surprised, but you’re too lightheaded and close to a climax that you don’t react at all. You feel his head in the crook of your neck, breathing heavy and groaning into your ear as he pushes himself deep and steady inside you. Your moans are soft, almost silent, barely there, not enough energy to show him how good he’s making you feel. But you think he gets it, if anything he can see it in how your eyes roll back, how flushed your cheeks are, and feel how your walls are squeezing tightly around him.

"You gonna be a good girl and finish all over my cock, princess?" You feel a hand reach under your chin, placed firmy on your throat, a tight squeeze is applied as you feel his hot breath on your cheek. Sloppy kisses, and a traveling tongue, licking off all your sweat and tears. Having him so near and in control of your breathing makes you feel unbelievably hot. He could kill you right now, right at your high, and you wouldn't mind at all.

"I think I'm- Coop I'm gonna-," you’re whisper in his ear, and it only fuels him more.

He lifts your leg higher, hooking it over his free arm as he goes even deeper. "Show me how fuckin' good I make you feel, sweetheart,"

And with that you think you’re about to pass out, but instead you’re hit with the intense feeling of something combursting inside you. Your head slams back, and your hands reach up to grab the headboard of the bed, your knuckles turning white from the grip. You're dazed, exhausted, feeling the lingering pleasure from your orgasm still present inside your throbbing cunt. Cooper helps you ride out the orgasm in a slower pace while coming up close to his own.

"There you go doll, it's all right," His hand leaves your throat and he unhooks your leg to find your waist, placing them on each side. He's leaning back on his knees as he pumps himself into you, softly, slowly. Soft groans leaves his lips in heavy and hitched breaths as he gets closer.

Seeing you so beautifully dishevelled and limp beneath him, he starts guiding your exhausted body with his hands, pulling you onto his cock, using it to finish himself off. You allow him, cause you enjoy watching him his chest rise with every breath he takes. His eyes rolling back with pleasure from feeling your walls pulsate with each thrust, and with one last squeeze from you, he reaches his own climax.

His hands are grabbing your waist so tightly you can feel the bruises forming already, but all you can focus on is his heaving chest, and his exposed throat as his head is thrown back. Soft grunts and curses filling the room, and you imagine his eyes closed with painfully pleasurable bliss, all caused by you.

He rides out his own orgasm and tries to settle his breathing before he lifts himself off you. He doesn't look at you, but climbs tiredly out of the bed to readjust his clothing. You’re so sleepy, greasy, smelly, but you don't care. You're high, and happy.

You watch him at the edge of the bed, and you utter a soft 'Thank you', just to let him know you're grateful for risking the success of the job. You were meant to be delivered as a virgin after all.

You hear him chuckle from the foot of the bed, you guessed he’d never gotten a ‘thank you for fucking me’ from anybody before, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

"Close your eyes and get some sleep, alright?" Hell, he doesn’t need to tell you twice.

"I think that’s a good idea," You’re not really sure if the words ever left your mouth, being that you’re practically half asleep already. But you do notice the bed dipping slightly next to you, and how you’re gently being pushed on your side. Followed by something warm pressed up against your back, and gentle kisses being placed along your exposed neck.

What tomorrow brings doesn't matter in this moment.

Part 2?

[maidenvault]

The red flags are so blatant in what we see of Mother Aniseya’s coven, is it not registering for anyone else that Sol got too emotionally involved but his instincts might have been correct?

Mae and Osha don’t know anyone but this small community. No other children, no friends. Apparently they’re not even supposed to venture outside by themselves. They don’t have their own lives, brought up to basically think of themselves as one person.

Aniseya’s the only one who truly loves them and cares about Osha’s feelings. When everyone’s discussing her leaving, the others only talk about what it will mean for them and their future. They just want her power.

Aniseya singles out the youngest of the Jedi to control with her magic as a threat when they haven’t done anything hostile. It’s understandable they feel a bit threatened and I see why the Council says they overstepped, but Koril is ready from the time they show up to go to their camp and kill them all.

Why are they teaching the girls to fight like it’s so serious? If these women all just want to live here unbothered, what are they actually preparing them for? What was it going to mean when the ritual was completed with both of them, and was it going to do something irreversible?

Aniseya tells Osha that others don’t accept their ways so she wouldn’t like the outside world like she thinks. (A manipulation tactic in cults.) But with the Jedi’s perspective, it’s now clear everything they said when they interrupted the ceremony was basically a pretense for checking on the welfare of the girls and they don’t care about these witches practicing another Force-based religion or training kids. So if they’ve got this persecution complex it could certainly be because they’re actually doing something wrong. (Or just because they want to keep the power of this vergence all to themselves, all while saying they’re not like other girls 'cause to them the Force isn’t something you use or own.)

Most alarmingly once Aniseya’s dead, none of them try to get to the children in the burning building. They just keep attacking the Jedi for what they did.

Of course lots of viewers will say that many of these concerning things are problems with how the Jedi treat children, too. And that’s probably meant to be the point, that there are different ways of looking at it. But it’s telling how practically nobody’s even addressing them. This show certainly reads differently depending on the bias you come to it with.

And none of these things really give the Jedi the right to remove these children from their family. I don’t think Sol’s concern comes from nowhere, but whether Osha's safe here is a separate question from whether she should be a Jedi and not necessarily in their purview. But he’s not using clear judgment because of his feelings so he ends up just hurting Osha, surely worse than anything her own mother was going to put her through. Attachment is selfish love, it's not good actually!

[carmenized-onions]

Do the Thing! | Toilet Repair

logline; Today's itinerary: Fix the toilet, catch up with Syd, try not to cry when everyone asks you where you've been.

series history; Previous Chapter

portion; 7.1k+ (this shit got away from me man, idk what to say)

possible allergies; Negative self-talk (It's the Bear, babe, everyone's sad). I did no research on plumbing and am truly making it the fuck up-- I know for a fact I'm not using any word correctly and I simply will not be fixing it. Reader eats meat!! Specifically pork!! Your 'name' is 100% just Tony now.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'handywoman' and 'Miss' are said. Plus a chest reference).

you ever start writing and you just cannot seem to find an end so you keep going forever? yeah.

“I think my name is just Tony now.”

You sip your overpriced orange juice. You really have to fucking savour it, now a days. That’s like 25 cents a sip, and Syd’s treating you to this breakfast outing, so it’s not even your own wallet on the line here.

“You lose all sense of identity, in a restaurant.” Syd straightens her back, mocking her very own mechanical movements of whenever she steps in a kitchen. “I am Chef.”

This diner isn’t more than two blocks down from The Bear. It was probably your second favourite spot in this neighbourhood. Probably still is. Sitting in the back corner booth (your favourite) with Syd is nice but distracting. She’s been updating you on everything since the catering scene and her botched credit, and you’re absorbing all of it, you swear, it’s just hard to not remember why this was your favourite booth.

Not because it’s seats are the least worn in, not because it’s got the right amount of sun through the window without blinding you, but because of the company you kept here. You’re trying to not notice your own name carved into the table. Especially since it’s not your handiwork.

You laugh at Syd’s joke on time, thank God. No awkward pause. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are. Head, right?”

She nods. “It’s cool. It’s like, vomit-worthy stressful but also…”

“You wish you were dead when you’re there, but you’d rather be dead than do anything else?”

“Yessir.” She nods again, digging further into her pancakes. “I really fucking owe you, by the way.”

“You’re paying me off through breakfast.” You wave her off. “Plus, I was available and it was like maaayybe 5 minutes of manual labour, it’s nothing.”

“Y’know what?” She hums, “I think actually, you owe me.”

“Yeah?” You grin.” Please, let me clear my debts, Syd?”

She smiles, pointing her fork at you. “You owe me the fuckin’ Beef background I’ve apparently not unlocked. Everyone was talking about you after.”

“Good things?”

“Vague things. Shit made me even more curious.”

You laugh. No shit they’d be vague. What can they say? “When my dad was running the repairmen gig, Cicero or Fak would call him in—”

“Oh fuck.” She snaps her fingers, seemingly in realization. “Your dad’s the connection!”

“The connection?”

“Fak said he had a connection for our fire safety test shit, and then said he didn’t—”

“Ah.” You nod knowingly. “Dad cut the cord on his business phone when it transferred to me, didn’t really keep people updated. Whoops.”

She nods, taking another bite of her pancakes, speaking mid-chew. “You could’ve saved our asses way faster, and I’ll-I'll never forgive you, but continue.”

Snickering, you continue, “Well, they’d call my dad in, and then my dad would call me in as his like, like his fuckin’ Sous of Repairs. And shit broke all the time at the Beef, as I’m sure you’re well aware, so I hung out around Mikey and everyone a lot.”

“Ah. N’ then…”

“He fuckin’ died.” You laugh, because there’s no way to say it smooth, so you might as well say it bad. You stretch out your arms and lean back in the booth. “I kinda took a step back, after that, so we didn’t manage to crossover ‘til now. S’ironic that you’re the one that brought me back instead of an oldie, honestly.”

She desperately wants to ask more about Mike, but she can tell now is not the time, so she just lets it lie and moves on. “You stopped being an EMT to take up the handyman shit, then?”

“Yessir.” You nod, finishing your straggling home fries. “Just kinda made sense to trade off, and I didn’t want to see the family bizz die. Do I have to occasionally pick up shifts bartending to make rent during slow months? Yes. But I also don’t watch people die anymore, so that’s a win.”

“In a way, you’re watching people die still, just slowly.”

You bite down hard to stifle any semblance of a smile or laughter, deadpanning, just to see her squirm in awkwardness for a moment. It works with flying colours, of course it does. It’s Syd. She’s still Syd. You speak at the same time.

“Cause of the alcohol?” “Cause—Cause of the alcohol.”

You both break into laughter, she throws her napkin at you. “Can’t stand you, oh my god. Let’s go clock in.”

She pays your bill before you can try to sneak your card in, which feels all too familiar, and you’re off.

Off to fix an exploded toilet.

“How the fuck do you fix an exploded toilet?”

Your hands rub over your face, lifting your safety goggles for a second. Too fucking foggy. Too fucking sweaty. Plumbing never really was your biggest strength. You’re staring at the bane of your existence, and it’s the latrine. How far we fall.

“You good, Cousin?” You hear from behind. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Richie in the doorway. It’s a fair question, you’re sitting criss-cross in front of a toilet, head in hands.

“Yeah, Cousin, I’m good.” Your words are muffled by your hands. Fully not cousins. For the record. You would argue you're not even that close, but he'd slap you upside the head. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Can you like, get me a pen and note pad? I need to like, strategize an attack.”

“It’s not that bad, Cousin—” “It’s that bad.” “Just tape the—” “Fuck off with the tape!”

You click your teeth, staring at the gurgling porcelain before you— At least it’s clean, it’s just fucked. “I shut the valve and it didn’t do shit. I think I have to remove it entirely so I can see what’s going on with the underground pipe.”

“Heard.” Richie and you both know that his hotfix handiwork has absolutely contributed to this penultimate mess you’re in now, but you’re both letting that go quietly for now. “You charge by hour or service?”

“Service flat rate and then after two hours it’s by hour.”

He hums, knocking his fist on the doorway a few times before walking away. “Pen and pad, Chef.”

“Not a Chef!”

“Term of Respect, Chef!”

You tap your leg incessantly, groaning like you’ve got an 80-year-old body as you stand to your feet. Richie’s grown a lot. He wears suits now. Hasn’t even poked at you for vanishing. Though you have a feeling it’s coming. If not from him, from someone.

You step out into the hall, leaned against the wall with your arms crossed as you wait for your pen and pad. And now you just have more time and a better view to take in how much has changed.

Gutted. A few walls gone. Makes sense, you told Mikey he was getting a mold problem. He never listened. Seats are new. The booths are the all-around style ones now. Ritzy. It’s too good for this neighbourhood. Is that a good thing? Yeah, right? Despite the fact that The Bear should feel out of place, you feel out of place being in it. Could you afford to eat here? Could the people who work here afford to eat here? Syd said she’s not getting paid for the next few months, so at the very least, the Head Chef can’t.

“Strange?” Tina sidles up to you on the wall, wiping her hands on her apron. Completely knocking you out of your dissociative fugue state.

“Yeah.” You nod, a little too quickly, that felt judgey, you correct, uncrossing your arms. “It’s daunting, I think; to see it all at once rather than slowly built in. Like, I know objectively this is very cool, but—”

Tina hums with understanding. “Feels gutted?”

“Was gutted.” You nod. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, it’s just, I dunno. Adjustment period, all that.”

“I needed a second too, but Jeff is good. Change has been good.” You nod like you know who Jeff is. “Carmen, I mean.” Your nod is now significantly more understanding. She smiles, you’re a little surprised to see Tina’s got a lot more insight than she used to. She pulled the thought of Carmen right out of your subconscious before you even detected it for yourself. “He’s good. You’ll see.”

You nod. You know the good she means is not Michelin Star Good. You already know that. He’s Mikey good. Person good. You clear your throat. “How’s Louis?”

“Good. Y’know, he’s getting to that age, getting in trouble. S’been a while since he’s had a good influence.” She nudges you. There it is. There’s the poke. The ‘where have you been?’ The ‘it’s been a year’. The— “Y’know, Chef didn’t come to the funeral neither.”

That one you didn’t expect, your head swivels to her hard. “Carmen didn’t go?”

His brother didn’t go? Oh, who the fuck are you to judge...

She nods, practically with her whole body, she looks more amused than anything. But like, mom amused. The worst amused. “You’re both the sensitive type.”

You cock your head at her, raising a brow. Smirking slightly. “Wow, Tina, I thought you changed too but you still talk your shit, eh?”

“I’m not talking shit!” She laughs, hands up in defence. “I’m just saying, you’re alike.” You hope that the laughter makes her forget the topic but it doesn’t.

“Where have you been?” She softens. She’s not asking to be mean, she’s asking out of concern. Why does that make it feel worse?

You tuck your hands in your pockets and retrain your eyes on hers, even if it feels bad. “Thought time and distance would heal all wounds.”

“Did they?”

Before you can answer, “Pen delivery, cousin!” Richie returns, triumphantly, with a pen and pad held high in the sky. He makes you jump for it. You elbow him in the gut, not hard. “Fuck off, Rich…” He keels over enough for you to grab it. “Thank you, chef.”

You turn back to Tina, who you now realize has spent half her smoke break on you. She nods to you, and then the bathroom door. “I’ll let you get back to it.” You nod in return. When she turns to walk away, you grab her shoulder.

“Tina.” She turns again. You should say something. Something vulnerable and thankful. Words of affirmation are not your thing. But maybe they could be, “If you end up with a dead plate—” Or maybe not.

She grins, and part of you is concerned by this, but she waves you off, giggling like she knows something you don’t. Already walking off. “You’re gonna be taken care of, Terry, don’t worry.”

This is a bad new nickname scheme. The fridge guy is just gonna end up being called ‘fridge guy’ if you take all his names.

It’s maybe three hours later. 11 am ish. You’ve finally put the toilet back in place, the pipes fixed underground— Which is a huge win of progress, the problem is, it’s just seemed to open the toilet’s ability to have other problems that need to be addressed. There’s a strong chance you’ll be here until you die. And even after that, this stupid toilet will still be gurgling, outliving you.

But you seriously have to eat something, so you scrub yourself clean, set your safety equipment down, and head out of the bathroom for a much-needed stretch of the legs— And to hopefully get a plate from Tina.

On your way to the kitchen, you’re stopped and walked backwards to a booth in the corner by Richie. “Hey, Miss, happy to serve you today, my name’s Richard but you can call me Richie, how’re you doin’ this fine morning?”

They’ve yet to open front of house, so you play along, taking your seat with a laugh. “I’m doing perfect, Richie, how are you?”

He nudges the air . “Ey, better now that you’re here, ah? Can I get a drink started for you?”

“Really gonna practice your set on me?”

He shrugs, still smiling. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

You hum, then rub your temples, the headache is setting in— Not cause of him, just been a tough morning. “Just your coldest fuckin’ glass of water, Rich.”

“Right away, Cousin.” He slips off into the kitchen.

When the door swings open again, it’s not Richie coming with your ice water, but Carmen— It’s your first time seeing him since the walk-in. When you came in this morning with Syd, it was Nat that gave you the quick briefing on the schedule and goals for today.

“Tony.” He hums, corners of his mouth just slightly upturned. The nickname has stuck. Goddamn. He sets the water down in front of you, along with a plate— Covered by a cloche—Or the silver lid thing, whatever.

“Carmy.” You only mean to mimic his tone, but then cringe. “Is Carmy fine?”

He pauses mid slide into the booth, sitting across from you. He seemed all cool and collected and is now suddenly extremely caught off guard. Already sweaty. “Y-yeah, I’m better, thank you—”

“No, I meant—” It is so difficult to hold back laughter. You deserve an Oscar.

You’re not doing great to be fair but like, still, Oscar worthy attempt.

“I meant like, like is the nickname okay?”

The horrors just keep piling on his face, and you can’t help but feel guilty. No shit he feels like he’s starting on a lower playing field here. You knew his dead brother, you know his Head Chef, your first time meeting him was at quite possibly his lowest moment and biggest mistake— Of which you had to coax him out of, and now he’s misunderstanding every innocent question you have for a inquiry into his psyche.

He clears his throat for objectively too long of a time. “Carmy is fine. Tony is fine?”

“I’m doing okay, yeah.”

Thank God, he laughs, awkward sure but objectively amused.

You nod down to the covered plate, smiling, “Fuck is this?”

He leans forward in his seat to get a hand over the lid. “I, uh. Made you a thing. As thanks or like, an— an apology.”

Ah. That’s why Tina was laughing about you getting taken care of.

He lifts the lid, and what is revealed, if you weren’t careful, would be enough to make you cry. Thankfully, the shock registers as uproarious laughter, one that Carmen cannot help but join.

“What the fuck?”

Pork brisket sandwich. Something that Mikey made for you, specifically. Because you said one time you were more of a pork fan than beef and he absolutely lost it. In a cute way, though. Said ‘Oh, I’ll make you fuckin’ pork, alright?’ You’re not sure if he won or lost the argument, because you did find it better.

“I, uh, we had some cuts left over that we weren’t gonna be able to fuckin’ use, and uh, Tina showed me this, this recipe card, last night.” He slides over the very same brisket recipe Mikey had written down. Little doodles of angry faces and Xs over pigs in the margins.

“He was so fuckin’ mad.” You snort, looking at it. “All I fuckin’ said was I had a preference!”

“In The Beef!”

“He asked!” You quickly defend, through laughter. “And it tastes fucking good. All he did was prove my fuckin’ point— And spent hours doing it. Were you here overnight for this, slowcooking?”

He shakes his head, though there’s a hesitation in it— So you’re not privy to completely believe him. He sniffs, swiping at his nose “I, uh, just came in early. Had to fix some shit anyways.”

He’s staring at the sandwich, then occasionally you, expectantly. You look at him with equal expectance.

“Well?” You start.

“Well?” He astutely adds.

You nod down at the dish. “Do the thing.”

“The thing?”

You pick up one half of the sandwich, but you’ve got no plans of eating until he satisfies this craving first.

“The thing Syd does where she explains why she’s proud of her dish and why I should care. I know it’s Mikey’s, but you clearly made changes.”

“Oh. Uh…” He was both expecting and not expecting this soap box. “So, followed the rub to a T— Well, with a salt bed, this time. Put it on brioche instead of the old shit. And I uh, added uhm—” He snaps his fingers, staring at the sandwich in your hand. “Added pickled red onion, for acid and sweet, and garlic confit. I’m—I’m happy with my spin on it.”

You whistle as a form of praise, he flushes with a glow of pride and is desperately trying to not show it. He’s proud because it’s curated, personal. Ah, he is Mikey good. You nod and take a bite, trying to control your reaction. Worst part about having Artists as friends (especially chefs): They fucking stare so hard when you’re taking in their work. And they’re over analyzing every micro expression. He’s no different.

Fuck. It’s fucking good. Is it bad that it’s better than anything Mikey ever made? Nah, that’s how he’d want it.

“Ah fuck, that sucks—” Is the first thing you say, and his face falls, “Expensive food is worth it.” Right back up. Easy to please. “It’s really good, Chef. Thank you. Did you try it yet?”

He shakes his head, so you push the plate with the other half of the sandwich— It’s brisket, anyways. You’ll be full by the end of this one. Portions generous. He looks momentarily hesitant, which is cute, but inevitably leans forward and takes the sandwich. He nods with each chew.

He hums when he finishes chewing, pointing emphatically at you, though his voice is neutral. “You don’t like something, though.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He stares at into the cross section of his bite. “Chewy? Texture?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” You’re quick to deny.

He shakes his head, hand over his mouth to hide the sauce on his mouth. “M’not gonna be hurt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the dish, Carmen.” You take another bite to prove your point. Also you’re hungry. Two things can be true.

He zones in on the emphasis immediately. “It’s the plate, isn’t it? I told Syd—”

“Your tables aren’t bolted.” You interrupt, swiftly. Mouth semi-full.

“Huh?”

You put your sandwich down and swallow, taking your time with it. “Your booth tables.”

You knock on the pristine wood with the joints of your left hand. You swivel your body to look under the table, he follows suit, meeting you there. His left leg has been violently shaking, but he’s thought you wouldn’t notice it until now.

You put a hand on his knee to stop the shaking. He bristles, slightly, but you’re not even doing it on purpose. Your focus isn’t on him. It was making the table imperceptibly shift— Which, of course, you clocked. You tap your foot to the bottom of the table leg. No screws. “They aren’t bolted down.”

You lift yourself back up, moving your hand back to yourself in tandem. He stares at it for a little longer. How you noticed that, he will never know. Repairmen are a different breed…

“I just thought it was a weird choice. Nothing wrong with it, per say. Maybe you wanna test different layouts.” You shrug, taking another bite.

“The booths aren’t bolted either.” He adds, lifting his head up above the table, finally. “I don’t— we’re not gonna fuck with the layout, I don’t think.”

“Should get Fak on that, then.”

“Fak’s big-timing us.” You cock your brow, mid chew. He explains. “He’s focusing on hosting, f'now.”

You nod, swallowing, hand in front of your mouth so you can lick the sauce off your upper lip in non-humiliated peace. “This another job for me, then?”

“If you’ll take it.”

“If your fuckin’ toilet doesn’t kill me, I will.”

“How’s that going?”

You shake your hand so-so. “Ask me in two to three hours how it’s going.”

“Heard.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. The stress is too apparent not to ask.

“How’s the second day open going?”

“I’m not in a fuckin’ freezer, so that’s a win.” Oh-ho, he’s acknowledging it. You were very comfortable forgetting that moment for his sake. “Thanks, uh, f’ that.”

You shake your head, shrugging off the thanks. You lift your last few bites of the sandwich to him. “You’re good. You’ve gifted me brisket. You relax since?”

“Not really.” He replies bluntly, taking a deep inhale. He pulls at his face from the top down, with both hands. Oof. Bad sign. “I think I’ll be good by tomorrow. Gonna get off early, tonight.”

“You don’t seem happy about that.”

“Ask me in two t’ three days if I’m happy about it.”

Back to work and this is taking so much fucking longer than it needs to take. Why is there tape there? Fucking Richie. Fucking Fak. Fucking Mikey. Godssake. Pipes are fixed. Water pressure is fixed. What the fuck is still wrong with it? What the fuck is wrong with you? Everyone is going to hate you if you can’t fix this. You’ve been here for like 5 hours and you can’t figure out what’s fucking wrong here? You’re nothing. You’re—

The toilet does you the favour of knocking you out of your episode by spraying you in the fucking face, soaking through the top of your jumpsuit. With a groan, you unzip the upper half and tie the wet sleeves around your waist. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

Maybe you just need a change in task for a second. Also, a new t-shirt, because your tank did not survive the waterworks either. This room isn’t the thing you need right now. You slip down the hall to the kitchen. “Who needs a coffee? Or water?”

There’s a chorus of orders, all of which sound like you’ve just asked ‘who wants a gift from God?’, which, you might as well have. This is what you like about being a handyman. The relief you bring. You just need a smidge of praise to get through the rest of this job. You’ve got this.

The small, but serviceable coffee machine in very back of the kitchen calls your name, but Richie sticks his arm out, blocking you from walking past expo up front.

“Hol’ up, Cousin, you look like a fuckin’ wet dog.”

“Well, what ‘ya gonna do about it?” You retort, despite the retort not honestly making any sense, you put your hands on your hips. “Do you want a fuckin’ coffee or not?”

He rolls his eyes, falling back onto the balls of his feet before walking off. “Ey, Sug, are those shirts still in the basement—”

You’ve won for now. You scrub your hands clean before getting to work. This is good. Oooh, Marcus has fresh coffee beans (that he’s willing to share!)— This is easy. You can already fix most broken things, but a machine that actually fucking works? Baby, you can make that sing.

Plus, the bartending gigs you’ve done don’t make you a barista by any means, but they certainly don’t hurt. Oooh, Marcus has syrups! Fuck it. Steamed and frothed milk. That toilet has you on your ass, you need to go above and beyond here. Make each cup personal. You need a win in the form of admiration.

You gather a tray of coffees (and a water for Sweeps, who is too fucking sweaty for a hot drink right now, so fair), all varying in milks, sugars, syrups, intensity. “Coffee run, I hand ‘em out, don’t just take! Corner!”

Ebra, to no one’s shock, likes his coffee black— But, and he’ll tell no one this, you just know it on instinct— He likes it a little too watery. “Good.” Who are you to judge? He likes what he likes.

Tina would take hers black for simplicity, if you let her, but of course you don’t. 2 sugars, foamed milk, chocolate and cinnamon syrup. “Too good to me.” It’s too worth it, when she says it like that and slaps your cheek. Balm of the soul.

Marcus, who watched you make these, did opt to let his imagination run too wild and added one of every syrup to his own cup, wanting to experiment with you. It doesn’t taste good. You switch it for a spiced coffee when he’s not looking. He’s silently very thankful.

After handing out a few more to the new cooks, you come up to Syd. “Take this one, take this one.” Then whisper, so no one knows you are displaying supreme favouritism. “It’s the one oat milk latte I made.”

She turns to you from her station, then darts looks over her shoulder like she’s making an under the table deal before grabbing it from you. She takes a delighted sip, eyes rolling just slightly in the relief of caffeine, she nods. “Fire, Chef.” Ah. This will get you through the day alone.

It also gets you through the willpower it takes to ignore Fak running by you to steal a coffee off your tray. Out of the corner of your eye, you point to the one meant for him— As if you didn’t make it for him, c’mon…

“How’s bathroom?” Syd asks, taking another long sip.

I’m going to fucking explode, not unlike your drainage pipe. “Needed a thinking break, but I’ve made a lot of progress. How’s kitchen?”

“Made a lot of progress. Auto-piloting through this prep.” She looks down at her cutting board, cracking back to it. “Latte helps, a lot, thank you. You should join for family, if you’re still here for it. Unless you don’t want more brisket.”

Fuck. She doesn’t think you’re so slow that you’re gonna be here until family, does she? “Yeah, maybe.” You look around, three coffees still on the tray. “...Where’s Carmen?”

She grimaces. Uh oh. The tension she glossed over at breakfast is still definitely there. She nods her head to the back door. “Smoke break. Or temper tantrum. I don’t fuckin’ know. Don’t tell him I said that.” You laugh, nodding. “You think a coffee would help—” “Please.”

“Corner!” Yells Richie, returning to you. He silently flicks out a shirt for you, holding it up proudly, ‘THE BERF’ stares back at you. You give it a solid five seconds to process before you say anything.

“Collector’s item...” You nod, tone sarcastically impressed. You pivot your shoulder for him to throw it over, hands too busy.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said!” He throws it over your shoulder. “No one fuckin’ listens, these days.”

You bite back laughter and nod, handing him his coffee. Hot. Dark. Two sugars. And, to his delighted surprise, a touch of cinnamon syrup. “Oh, fuck, missed your twists, Chip.”

You wince at what was a long-forgotten nickname, and so does Richie. Funny how remembering origins can do that to you. He’d just said it so instinctively, really. “My bad—”

“Chip is good.” You interrupt, rolling your shoulders back. And it is good, really. “It’s kinda—It’s kinda comforting.” It’s nice to not forget. He nods, and you give each other the ‘we are still so fucked, eh?’ smile before lovingly bumping shoulders as he returns to expo and you head to the back alley.

Carmen’s squatting, cigarette in one hand, creating a halo of smoke around him, and his phone in the other. He snaps out of his mental fog when the door opens, slipping his phone into the pocket of his apron like he’s got a secret to hide.

You hesitate at the doorway, maybe this is not the moment. “Sorry, Chef, I just wanted to offer a coffee? If you need air alone—”

“No, no, I’m good—” He’s quick to correct, then even quicker to correct himself. “I— I’ll take a coffee, I mean. You can stay, s’fine.”

He reaches for it when you sit next to him, but you pull the tray back to hand him the correct one. “Sorry, I—I like, did a thing, for yours. I dunno how you take your coffee, so I thought I’d do it weird.”

He takes the cup, eying it curiously. “Do it weird?”

“Do it like, like a Chef. Can’t make anything fuckin’ simple. The lot of you.”

He hums, amused, staring at the cup, then looks at you expectantly. “Well?”

“Well?”

“Do the thing.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“C’mon, tell me why I should care.” He teases.

“Ah, fuck.” You sniff, oh to have your own words turned on you. Looking at the coffee in his hands, “I figured you’d like strong black coffee, but like, complex. So, it’s got like, cardamom and lavender n’ maple syrup. Shout out Marcus.” He smiles. “And then, I know I did just say black coffee but I wanted the aesthetic so I spooned foamed milk on top and sprinkled on some dried lavender.” You take your own cup in hand, putting the tray down. “If you hate it, we’ll trade.”

He pays close attention to your explanation. Man, his eye contact is simultaneously so soft and so scary. He takes a sip. Let’s it sit in his mouth for a second. “Excellent, Chef.”

Oh, if Syd’s ‘Fire’ could get you through the day, Carmen’s ‘Excellent’ will get you through the week to spare. You hide the way you beam by drinking your own coffee.

“How’re you doing?” It’s far too obvious that he’s had something heavy on his head all day, but you’re not going to say the quiet part loud, yet.

He takes a long time to respond. “I, uh…” And when he does, it’s weak. “I’m alright, yeah. I’m alright.”

You nod repeatedly, digesting the huge lie. “Ask me how I’m doing.”

He squints. “…How’re you—”

“Fuckin’ terrible, Carm.” You cut him off, putting your cup down next to him, standing up. You speak emphatically, gesturing with your whole body.

“I’m at my wits, Chef. Completely out of my depth. I fix the main pipe, I fix the water pressure, I triple check the tank, I fuckin’ power cycle the valve— I’m absolutely at a loss as to why it’s still gurgling— Why it shot water straight at my tits— Close your eyes, if you care, by the way.”

With barely any warning you peel off your tank top, you’ve got a bra, it’s fine. It’s very cute that he still looks away. You slip the new shirt over your head as you speak, muffling the words.

“—I’m wearing a shirt that says Berf, and the only way I can feel any semblance of not being utterly useless is by making coffees so good everyone has to praise me for them. And now I’m telling the fucking owner, my boss for the day all this.”

He nods, slowly. There is perhaps, not a single person in his life that has ever been this forthright. Someone he hasn’t had to over-analyze or dig into to figure out what’s actually going on. It is refreshing, terrifying, and for some reason, removing your walls have completely shattered his.

“So.” You lower your head to his level where he sits. “How are you doing, Chef?”

He takes a long sip of his coffee. Stews on the question before he spills his guts, calmly. “I’m sitting outside of the restaurant I started that I own, and my brother should be here, but he’s not and— And I was locked in a fuckin’ freezer on my opening night, which was my own fuckin’ fault— And the tape is wrong and the painting is stupid and that new hire did meth so now we’re down one.” He takes a deep breath.

“And we have Heinz instead of Frenchies, and it’s fine. That’s the fucked part— It’s fine. The ship did not sink without me— It went fine. Better, maybe. My problems aren’t fuckin’ problems. I’m just making it worse for myself— everyone. And I know Syd is mad at me, and I know my— My girlfriend? Is mad at me, and I know that I’m gonna break up with her tonight because I’m not meant to be— that.” He says the last part fast, more to himself than you, really. And then he finally looks back up at you.

“And I’m telling all of this to the person who saved me from hypothermia and a fuckin’—Fuckin’ meltdown, who probably thinks— knows that I’m a psycho.”

You take a beat before nodding, sitting next to him again, arms crossed. Silent. Contemplative. “I have thoughts.”

He nods, taking a drag. “Don’t pull punches.”

“Well, to start most honestly, we must remember, I love Syd. So, I’m not gonna mince about her.”

“Heard.”

You recall everything Sydney had told you at breakfast. The recap of how she got to this point. “Syd isn’t mad at you, she’s disappointed and distrustful.”

He grimaces. “That sounds worse.”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

“But in a way you can fix.”

“How?”

“Handle shit different. Actually show up to shit and make calls. Manage your priorities by urgency— Not by favourites. If I broke my fuckin’ arm and your ‘girlfriend’ had a runny nose, who are you taking to the hospital?”

“You can’t take yourself?”

“Bitch?”

“Kidding. Heard. What else?”

“You’re not gonna tell her I said this because she would rather die than tell someone she wants something.” You lean closer to him, peeking over your shoulder to make sure no one’s secretly come from the kitchen. You knock into his knees.

He takes another drag, short, choked. “Sure.”

“You were kind of a bitch about the menu.”

“The chaos menu? She said—”

“She fucking lied. She lied when she said it was fine, Carm, it does not take a psychic to read Syd’s mind.” You interrupt, taking a sip of your coffee. “She was so excited to get to build a menu, especially with—” you, “—a partner, and then you completely ditched her. And then you just made your own! Total control freak shit! Cut her out of the fun part of being head chef completely! You get to invent masterpieces and she picks out the best cheap plate? Fuck is that?”

He nods contemplatively, poking his inner cheek. “Yeah, that, that makes sense. That’s shitty.” He turns his gaze from looking ahead to face you, hand over the bottom half of his face. “What else?”

“You’re reactive.”

“No shit.”

“How long do you think you were locked in the walk-in for?”

He swallows, thinking. “Like… an hour?”

“It had been 23 minutes.”

“Oh.”

“You catastrophize, it’s a fancy therapy word,” You cannot help but be impressed by this white man writing down the word in his phone for later. “It means, basically, when something bad happens you blow it completely out of proportion into something it isn’t. Your opening night was definitely a bummer from being in a freezer— But be honest with yourself, would you have let yourself have a good night if you weren’t in there?”

“…No.”

“No. Which is also bad. Which brings me to my key point.”

He tenses up, preparing for you to rip into him further.

“You’re doing a good job, Carmy.”

He immediately swivels back to you, almost dropping his phone. Knee knocking into yours. “Fuck off.”

“I will not.”

“You just said I was a catastrophe.”

“Fully not what I said.”

“I read between the lines.”

“Carmen.”

You take a breath, putting your arms on your knees, bent over. “The restaurant is beautiful, your cooks are talented and they’re prepared— So prepared that they can handle 23 minutes without you. That’s a good thing. You’re threaded into The Bear— The ship didn’t sink, not because you weren’t there, but because you had been. Everyone had the tools they needed to succeed, even with Heinz, a Mid painting, and torn tape. And listen—” You take one last sip of your coffee. “You need to check your ego if you think you’re the first man I’ve coaxed through a panic attack while doing a repair.”

He laughs, half-heartedly. He scratches his nose. “Heard. Yeah, thank you, Chef.”

“I don’t know shit about the meth thing though, I really couldn’t tell you.” You smile when this coaxes a better laugh out of him. You’re considering a career in stand up exclusively for him because it feels like such a reward to hear it.

“And the girl?” He asks. Amusement tinging but leaving his voice.

You click your teeth, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Based purely on your hesitation to say girlfriend, I’d say yeah, probably not ready for a relationship.” You reach your hand out to his shoulder when he flops his head down. “But, just asking, is this your first relationship?”

He thinks for too long before nodding slightly. “First one.”

“First restaurant too?”

He nods again.

“Yeah.” You pat his shoulder before letting it go, opting to hold your cooling cup. “I know you’re a Michelin star fuckin’ big deal but like, me personally, I can’t name a thing I got perfect the first time I did it.”

There’s something in his eyes, when you say that. Something wistful, nostalgic, hurt? No. Something different.

“It’s not that I didn’t do perfect—”

“You’ll do better next time.”

He wrings his hands together between his knees. “Yeah.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Carm.”

“You’re good at that.” He sniffs, head down, scratching his nose.

“At what? Self-help?”

He exhales what just barely sounds like a laugh. “Kinda. S’just, when you say it, you say it in a way where I actually believe it.”

You’re getting the fuck out of here before they open for dinner. You’re not letting anyone down tonight motherfucker. The Berf shall prevail. Maybe a win here will feel like a win for Carmen, too.

You run the sink to wash your hands, as you’ve done before here— But since fixing the pipes and the pressure… Something’s… different. You pause your scrubbing, listening closely.

…

When the sink is running, the gurgling flow of water from the toilet stops. Huh. You stop and start the faucet a few times to verify this. Yeah. You stare for a long moment before connecting the dots, then punch the sink in realization.

“Fucking Mikey!”

“What’d he do this time?”

You twist around. Ah, other sibling. Natalie. Clipboard in hand, business ready. You take a beat before remembering to smile, nodding to the sink behind you. “He connected the tank flow to the toilet and the sink with one wire.”

She tilts her head, squinting. “Why would he do that?”

“I suspect to save water?” You spin around, kneeling down to look behind the sink. “I think the idea was to have the sink not function when the toilet is flushing. But, it uh, well, did the reverse, kinda. Toilet doesn’t function when the sink isn’t running.”

“Oh.”

“So uh,” You shut the valve under the sink. “Your water bill should go down a little after this, since it won’t be running into what is an essentially a second trap pipe.”

“Oh!” Did she get what you said? No. But she doesn't need to. She heard ‘bill should go down’ and that’s really all she needed. “Thank you!”

“Not a problem. S’my job.” You stand, shutting off the valve to the toilet as well. As you kneel down to work again, you feel her gaze burning into your back. You don’t turn to face her. “You have questions.”

“Oh, ah… Am I so obvious—?”

“Yes.” You’re too quick to answer, unbolting the wires where it attaches to the toilet and the ground. You sniff with a panicked, “Ah, uh, it’s endearing.”

She’s quiet, for a moment. She doesn’t ask you what she actually wants to ask you, and you know that. “Well, I’ll need to exchange info for your invoice.”

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that, your brother already covered it.” You stand once more, before going to the sink to undo it’s valve, you fish through the deep pocket of your jumpsuit, pulling out a crumpled business card and handing it to her.

“But it’s good to have my info on hand, for sure. It’s ah… Kinda old.” Kinda is an understatement. Your dad’s name is still on it, scribbled out in pen and replaced with yours. The dead business line is also scribbled out in exchange for your personal cell.

“It’s uh… I usually only work for friends and family, these days, so I’ve kinda stopped trying to keep up appearances.”

She smiles at it. Thank God, she finds it charming and not sloppy. She tucks it into the clasp of her clipboard. “That’s fine, we are friends and family.”

All you can do is nod, pivoting to the sink. There's a beat of peace.

“Didn’t see you at the funeral.”

Ah. There it is. For a Bear, she sure knows how to poke one. You stutter in unscrewing the bolt.

“Would’ve been nice to meet you, then.”

You clear your throat, it's strangled. “Yeah, I think I was trying to avoid introductions, honestly. Grief comes in different ways, eh?”

“Does it?”

“Mine does.” You swallow, unbolting the wire. With it free, you can just yank it out of the wall. God, forgive your brain, but Mikey was right, she does like to fight. Too bad you don’t.

She just hums in reply, watching you pull the wire from the wall. “You’re a real lifesaver.”

Fuck. Fuck. Lifesaver? Is she fucking with you?

“That toilet sprayed me right in the face, yesterday. And you saved Carmen.” There’s an amused lilt to her voice. She’s not fucking with you. “There’s something about a handywoman that Fak cannot match.”

You can hear a faint ‘Hey!’ through the walls. You laugh through an exhale.

“Again, s’my job. I do my best. Did uh, what was it, Terry come by for the walk-in? I wasn’t looking when I was there.”

You sort through your tools, deciding caulking the holes closed is probably the best option.

“He came over basically overnight to fix it, bless him, still don’t know his name.”

You laugh, it’s a little strangled. So Carmen did stay overnight. He must’ve. You smooth out the caulk with your thumb and a palette knife. Blending it into the grout as best as you can. “Good. Good.”

You dust yourself off. Standing. “Well. That’s uh. That’s my job done. Carmen asked me about—”

“Bolting down the booths?” She nods, checking the time on her watch. There’s not enough time before lunch to do it now. Plus you don’t have the screws. “You’re free to come by in the morning tomorrow—”

“But?” You interrupt, throwing your tool bag over your shoulder.

“But?”

“You said free like you’ve got a preference, what do you prefer?”

She chuckles, slightly. There is something about you that feels familiar. “If you could come after close tonight around 12, that would be nice—”

“It’s done. I’ll be there.”

“Lifesaver. I'll give you the code.”

Fuck.

Always gotta give the reader/mc some sort of mysterious background that even you don't have all the info on. Always.

Hehehehe, again, we're slowing this burn so much. Strangers to Friends to lovers but they're both so comfortable in friends it's hard to move !!

Forewarning, btw, if you've already sunk 10k worth of words into your brain for me (thank you!! I hope you've enjoyed!!), I've never written smut before and I feel like I probably will not build up the courage to do so by the end of this series, but I could prove myself wrong, I dunno. But warning in case that's your thing!! I might blue ball you babe!!

Pretty please tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my Berf shirt. Collector's value!! Thrown away!!

Next Part

[syrma-sensei]

→ Somewhere In Your Heart, Ch.1: Tenderly.

pairing: Soldier Boy x fem!reader.

rating: explicit.

setting: pre-canon; in the early 1980s.

warnings/tags: Ben's foul mouth, sexual innuendos, misogyny, racism, antiquated mentality...

summary: soldier boy lives through the ennui of his peak, but everything is about to change when he has a shift in his heart.

Soldier Boy rolls his eyes at Legend, “No, ain't doing another stupid song. Let Noir do that shit, the kid's been so fucking eager to see his star shine.”

“It wasn't that bad, people loved it. Your fans loved it, and they want more from you,” Legend tries to reason, “Plus, can't win a Grammy award for best record of the year if it sucks. Moreover, it's pretty popular among the young folks.”

The supe sneers, taking a gulp from his drink, he relishes in the burning in his throat even if it's momentarily, “The young folks can suck on my balls. Honestly, the fuck went wrong with young men these days, huh?” He clicks his tongue, “Christ, it is true; good times do create weak, sappy men.” His head jerks to the side sardonically, “Bunch of pussies seeking some women's attention with shitty songs and snivelling lyrics. Chicks don't want no men like that.”

“Yeah well,” Legend shakes his head, a sly grin on his face, “The world's changing, Soldier Boy, if you don't keep up with it, you might end up outdated, just saying.”

Soldier Boy raises a conceited eyebrow, “I'm America's son, hero of all heroes, an actual fucking legend; people practically worship the ground I walk on. In what fucked up sense would that seem to you outdated anytime soon?”

“Time is a tricky thing,” Legend answers with a sigh, “But only for us I presume. I mean look at ya, your sixty-fourth birthday was last month and you don't look a day past thirty. Some lucky bastard you are.”

Soldier Boy grins smugly, placing his glass on the coffee table in front of him where they sat in the living room of his personal quarters in Vought America tower.

Legend decides not to take the time topic any further, because he knows better, such discussions with the strongest supe ever lived are futile and meaningless. Furthermore, he doesn't want to poke Soldier Boy's massive ego, the latter isn't infamous for his temper for nothing. Legend is back to ground zero. So, he tries another way.

“You'll be doing it, though. It's your next mission.” The playful tone from Legend's voice vanishes, a more professional, assertive one replaces it, “It's nothing you can't do. Think of the gals who'll cream their panties when they hear your voice singing their favourite hit.”

Soldier Boy’s lips flip pensively, “Tempting. But still no.”

“Can arrange a collab with whoever female singer you want.” Legend tries again.

“Can ya pair me up with Monroe?” Soldier Boy gives his manager a shit-eating smile.

“For fuck's sake, Soldier Boy,” Legend says with a frown. The little shit, greatest superhero or whatever else, can honestly be a huge pain in his ass. “Be serious.”

“Oh, I'm dead serious,” Soldier Boy grumbles, “Can you do it or not?”

“She died thirty years ago for Christ's sake, of course I can't pair you up with her.”

“Then the answer's still no. I'd rather spend time rubbing one out at Pauline from Donkey Kong than contributing to entertaining a pansy dogshit audience.”

Fuck you. Legend really wants to spit it out loud but he carefully curbs himself. He pinches the bridge of his nose, “Can't help but notice that making my work harder everyday is your new favourite sport, isn't it?”

“C'mon, don't be such a wuss,” Soldier Boy drawls, “Where would be the fun of an easy job? I'm doin' ya a favour; making you truly earn each penny you get paid. It's something we used to call 'hard work' back in my days.”

“Hard work can kiss my ass in that case,” Legend says humorously, shaking his head. Soldier Boy shares an amused chuckle with him.

“Seriously though—”

“Noir's cut out for that shit, not me. He'll be thrilled to do it.” Soldier Boy smirks wickedly as he interrupts him. The kid may not be funny. Fuck, he ain't, and that's precisely why he didn't get Axel Foley at Beverly Hills Cop — but it'd be hilarious to watch him fail in singing. Even if he didn't, nobody can beat Soldier Boy's performing talents.

Before Legend can answer he proceeds, “And tell him while you're at it that he has me to thank for giving him a window like that. He may as well make it fucking count. Make sure he does.” Legend shakes his head.

Soldier Boy and Legend continue to discuss business for another half an hour. Among the offers though; Nintendo wants to make a video game about Soldier Boy.

“For fuck's sake, do those Nips have any dignity?” Soldier Boy jeers.

“Well, it's all about business nowadays.” Legend says. “Arcade games have a large foot in the market, y'know. And, we're hiring many Japanese developers into our new entertainment department. So, I friendly remind you to tune down your slurs.”

Soldier Boy scoffs again. “I’ll see about that…”

When the talk is done, Soldier Boy dismisses the Director of Superhero Management of Vought.

“See ya at the wedding.” Legend says before he steps out of Soldier Boy's quarters.

“Hope fucking not.” The supe murmurs, taking the last gulp of his drink.

This evening Soldier Boy is to attend Dr. Jonah Vogelbaum's daughter's wedding as the guest of honour. The bride is a huge fan of his; her father has personally invited him to the wedding. What more honour can one get than having the greatest superhero ever lived as a guest at their wedding?

Soldier Boy heads to his dressing room to choose a formal outfit for the occasion. He's not going to wear his supe gear even though Vogelbaum made it very clear that he should. But Soldier Boy takes no shit from a nobody, and who the fuck Vogelbaum thinks he is to tell him what to do? Plus, that attire is for business, and him going to that wedding is a mere pursuit for pleasure. He isn't on some mission tonight but to find a good fuck for himself. Women, nonetheless, would throw themselves at his feet regardless of what he puts on. However, fancy tailored suits and bowties seem to pull women more effectively into his charm. When he clads in his supe suit, he's more intimidating; a god walking among men. Women would sigh at his sight and eye-fuck him, but beneath the layers of infatuation, he can perceive the lick of fear in their eyes. Like he's an invincible idol that cannot be touched by lesser hands. Not that he doesn't fucking relish in having such an impact, but he still prefers to pluck a catch in such occasions. Some nice chick who's eager to warm his bed in fearless vigour, some girl who can actually handle his raw strength and superhuman stamina. Especially when Countess won't be up his ass sulking like the bitch she is whenever he pays another woman his attention.

His relationship with Countess is nothing but for show. Pure business. Vought thought they looked good together and had an appealing chemistry in the public eye. Power couple and that shit. But in fact, Soldier Boy has no ounce of romantic feelings for her. Sure, they fuck around every now and then, but nothing more to add to it.

When he's fully dressed and spruced up he looks at himself in the full-length mirror and nods in approval. He'll definitely make the ladies' panties drop tonight.

Soldier Boy arranges a few lines of coke for himself on the coffee table. It'll help him  handle all of the cock-sucking kiss asses he's going to interact with tonight.

God fucking damn.

It takes the mightiest of his steel aplomb not to roll his eyes or hiss a curse. The moment he arrives at the wedding in the swanky hotel, he has everyone's attention all to himself. Guests swarming around him with hearts in their eyes, already forgetting about the wedding. Happy shrieks emit from the gals, and full admiration in the eyes of pals.

Ben puts on an expertly-feigned and charming smirk as he nods his head and shakes hands.

“Oh my Gosh, it's really him!”

A pretty woman in a dashing white dress wobbles down in his direction. The fucking bride. Soldier Boy's grin couldn't get any wider. The girl practically left her fucking husband standing with his groomsmen and came marching to him. Something huge and satisfying sprouts in the depths of his chest when he sees the young man briefly stink-eye in his way.

“If it ain't the queen of the show,” He drawls with a stentorian voice and a conceited raise of his brow. The bride holds a breath, her companion bimbos of bridesmaids sighing dreamily, “Well, congrats on tying the knot, darlin',” Large hand taking the bride's gloved one as he leans down to press a light kiss on her knuckles, and the girls squeal.

“Thank you, sir,” The corner of Soldier Boy's lips curls up into a half grin as he hears the groom's curbed voice, “A huge pleasure for us having the greatest man alive honouring our wedding,”

The man extends his hand out for a shake and Soldier Boy doesn't disappoint. “What can I say, Sonia is one of my best girls,” He sends a playful wink to the bride, and her groom's face rises in colour. However, she giggles timidly with blushing cheeks, and covers her mouth slightly.

“Thank you again, sir, for coming,” Sonia chirps, “Means a lot to us… to me, right, darling?”

Her new husband answers with tight lips, “Yeah, of course, please enjoy your time here, sir.”

Sure hell I'll do.

After signing some autographs, which mostly came from the bridesmaids on this special occasion, Soldier Boy lets out an elongated sigh before plucking a flûte of champagne from a server wandering around with a full tray of pleasantries. With the first sip invading his strong taste buds, he regrets it instantly. That shit is extra fruity with enhanced floral notes, it made his face controt in disgust.

“You're late,” The Doc's voice comes curt when he appears next to him, eyeing him disapprovingly. His unpleasing presence made the twitch of his face worse. The little shit. He should be kissing his ass and thanking him for wasting his time on this crap. Soldier Boy should hand it to him, though, he's got some balls. He scoffs. Ever since Vogelbaum gained Stan Edgar's infinite corroboration and support, he's become insufferable. And perhaps sometimes looming dangerously close to make Soldier Boy's hackles rise.

Ben grins indifferently at him, “Had a tight schedule,” Be glad I'm here you ungrateful old fuck.

Vogelbaum stretches his lips and nods, “You have my thanks anywho,” He grumbles, “Though I strictly told you to honour us with your presence in your suit.”

“Yeah, you did,” Soldier Boy replies with a shit-eating grin, “But wasn't in me to steal the light away from your breathtaking helluva daughter,” He patted the doctor's shoulder, “Cheer the hell up, Doc, it's your daughter's wedding and you have the greatest man ever lived as your guest!”

Ben can't endure another second of this man's company. He hands him the flûte and threads his way to the bar to order a drink. A real fucking drink. He sights a vacant stool next to a pretty woman who seems to be without company. He grins to himself when he catches a better angle of her. She is a beauty. Maybe she's the lucky one tonight. He smoothes his suit jacket and adjusts his bowtie before sliding nimbly on the stool.

He orders a strong liquor from the bartender and the beauty next to him cooes, “Make it two, please.”

He turns his head to her with an arched eyebrow, because fuck does he appreciate a woman who's not a lightweight, “Tough night?”

Her painted mouth curls up into an inveigling smile, “Should I ask you the same question?”

Brave. Tempting. He loves brave. Whereas most women are intimidated by him, this one here though, she looks unfazed. He likes it. He wonders what she's gonna sound when he's balls deep inside of her. Timid, brave, strong, weak, they all sound the same in his bed when he touches the magic button. One thing he was certain of was she'd sound pretty in her throes of pleasure.

He gives her figure a quick scan; she isn't one of bridesmaids that's for sure. She's wearing a forest green dress. Her skin is glowing beneath the velvet, and a pleasant fragrance emitting from her body. Her neck and ears are adorned with gold and rubies. She looks hazily beautiful.

“Groom's or bride's?” He asks when their drinks are served.

She flashes him a grin with those tempting lips, “Why wouldn't you hazard a guess like when you do on a minefield?” She winks, taking a gulp of her drink.

Interesting, he raises an amused brow. At least she ain't playing easy. He has to give her that; she's making his night way more entertaining. He likes to play prey and predator let alone when she's practically inviting him to do so.

A playful grin graces his lips, replying, “Can't risk bursting a pretty lady like you tho, can I?”

She lets out a small laugh, “God forbid, what kinda superhero would you be then?” His eyebrows knit together slightly as he watches her grabbing her purse and preparing herself to leave.

“It was nice running into you, sir,” She remarks, “But you'll have to excuse me…”

“Sure, sweet cheeks…”

She nods as she moves away with such grace and swiftness. Ben doesn't realise he was holding his breath until it clicks within him. Fuck, he forgot to ask her her name. But nothing to worry about, he catches her entering the powder room. In moments, he'll go after her and take this rather interesting conversation somewhere else.

He waits though. For more than fifteen minutes. Vogelbaum makes his way on the stage to raise a toast to his daughter and her groom, and he doesn't forget to give Ben a word of gratitude for being here. People cheer and applaud when the lights shine upon him, and he smiles and nods at them. On another occasion, he'd enjoy this to the fullest. His mind, however, is occupied by finding a pretty seductress. Can it be that she left? No, he doesn't think so. Fuck, if only he could distinguish her voice out of the many nattering and yapping voices despite his superhuman hearing. He considers asking Vogelbaum about her later. Maybe the man would be useful to him for once. But he will not have to, though.

The lights of the hall ebb away, save for the ones above the music stage.

A wide grin slips into his lips when he sees her behind the microphone, and their eyes lock for a moment. She gives him a teasing wink.

The little minx, he thinks.

Tender music emanates from the piano and she starts to sing with a silky voice.

The evening breeze caressed the trees tenderly

Damn, he likes that song. And her voice couldn't be more on brand for it!

The trembling trees embraced the breeze tenderly

He feels the said breeze of her cooes and it makes him shiver.

Then you and I came wandering by

And lost in a sigh were we

Ben conjures a vivid image of her sighs of pleasure.

The shore was kissed by sea and mist tenderly

She's the shore, and his mouth is the sea.

I can’t forget how two hearts met breathlessly

Your arms opened wide

And closed me inside

You took my lips

You took my love

So tenderly

A loud applause erupted from the guests when she finished, and Ben found himself amongst the riveted clappers.

God fucking damn.

Ben knows a lot of singers, hell, he works with them sometimes. But never has he ever heard such a mellifluous voice like this one! How come he hasn't known of her before? A new face, he guesses. He wonders if Legend knows her.

Ben stops clapping as his conversation with Legend that afternoon flashes through his mind. That's it.

Shortly after the wedding, Ben heads back to his quarters in Vought's tower, impatiently dialling Legend's number.

“That sappy song you wanted me to do—” He says right away.

“Well, good evening to you too,” Legend drawls from the other end, “As happy as I am to hear that, Ben, but I'm kinda fucking tired to talk business right now. Despite my marvellous traits, I'm still a human.”

“I'll do it.”

Soldier Boy could hear Legend switching the handset of the telephone to the other hand. And before the latter says anything he proceeds.

“Only on one condition...”

🦅 Next Chapter: A New Window.

🦅 Somewhere In Your Heart Masterlist.

🦅 The Boys Masterlist.

Taglist: @thebiggerbear, @zepskies, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deansbbyx, @deans-spinster-witch

@venus-haze, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @ketchupjasmin...

[astralnymphh]

𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐊𝐈𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑! ★

content: prodigy!abby x nerdy!reader, childhood friends, university-based, fluff (for now), romance + tension (little bit angsty), drabble length but switching up the small caps (experimenting. heh), mainly jotting an idea, not a certified abby expert.

It was an absolute murder to discover that she could not fufill this one off her bucket list.

Fucking video gaming?

Exactamundo! Abby can outstand everybody in nearly anything, being everything from a virtuoso violinist, to a glorified part-time fisherman, and a damn gourmet chef as well. She paraded around the entire campus pursuing a name in every elective and Olympic hobby you could ever think of. Name it, chances are she's done it. Actually, more than done it, all things considered.

But video games? Guess the esteemed Abby Anderson had finally tumbled downhill and suffered defeat; looking you up out of all computer-smart people felt treasonous to her, but seemed high-priority to the eye of the beholder, the eyes in question even rolling. You don't need an in-person class course on fucking Skyrim. Look at the tutorials!

“So, how the hell do I shorten my speedrun times?”

None of it made a lick of sense. Well, the wanting to do speedruns part, you see the appeal in a medieval-inspired game. Speedrunning sucks the fun and the atmosphere out of a truly gorgeous game such as the forenamed. Yet, it's not like you haven't experimented in closed-world speedruns after immersing yourself in collecting all the achievements; Firewatch takes the cake.

But, still, coming to you—a forgotten, childhood friend whom she ghosted—makes no logical sense. Games are easy-peasy. Literal pieces of cake!

You scrunch your nose at the reclined blondie on your bed, confused. “Um, by watching a tutorial?” Almost laying back into a condescending tone, maybe even a little. “Did you even think to do that before knocking in the dead of night?” Her mordant, stick-up-the-ass kind does the same thing to you, so, you can gripe at that game all you desire.

“Hey,” she pouts, sounding out mock-offense. She scoots up from her prone position on the bed to face you—so proper. “Everything has more to it than what you see.” Sure, philosopher. “And there definitely is with video games. I keep losing. Besides, if I can't stomach skydiving or rock-climbing, then this is next on my list.”

“Pft—”

“What? You know I don't do heights.”

Oh, my god. “'You keep losing?'” Is she a prodigy at radical honesty?

Pond-blue eyes toss in a perfect, resentful circle. She scoffs, “Why do you think I came over here?” Complaining right hand flicking with attitude.

“I don't teach beginners.”

Your sarcasm flies not even an inch under her radar; it was always a retreat tactic back in highschool—when this imitative facade first hardened. “Oh, okay.” She bites you back with it too. But it never even occured to her that you might just be serving a tablespoon of teasery. Being old friends, having lonesome yearns, even stubborn prodigies can be painted in a rosy picture.

Still can see those young, faded freckles. Lovely ones.

“This was a mistake, wasn't it?” An unpleasant question. Drops from her lips almost wantonly.

It strains your chest cavity.

Is seeing her a mistake?

Not really. You hope not really. Once, there was a time where she was suddenly rude, dismissive and up every aspiring valedictorian's ass, but all paths lead back, you believe. Somewhere underneath that porcelain facade—and hot, rocking bod—is a clean crack in her over-achiever matrix; softness is bleeding out. You can see the beginning brooks of it like a kingly ichor. Possible smiles that aren't contemptuous.

What next, an apology?

“Can I at least.. say sorry, before going?”

Sorry—going? Fuck, you majorly zoned out. “What?” You loom in closer, throwing the one-brow raise. The proximity barely even occurs to you.

“For being a jerk, for blowing you off, ..” The list implies endlessness as her voice fades out. In a way, you expect her to pick up and continue. But, after the gestures and head-tilts, she pauses. Reinstates eye contact, pauses, and works her lips again. An awkward, prefacing breath skims. “And I guess, 'm also sorry for.. this?”

Before comprehension hits, it is too late. Darkly, a warmth brushes your cheek and a silence catches your lips, blocking your eyes out. It makes you feel blindsided, this short-lived kiss, one you suspend wide eyes for, tilt your neck for, accept without question. A strange deja vu rushes to your nape.

You shiver.

It even ends before you understand it, Abby pulling away with light-glossed eyes you swear are stones of aquamarine in disguise. She cracks; dints a smile in her cheek. Proud, anticipating. Having her this close made your inhales excessive; you needed all the air in the world to function right now. Deep breathing.

She smells like the outdoors.

Naturally.

“Good?” She has to reassure herself.

“Yeah,” you quickly spout, croak even. Wherever in the world your head is, it's not here. “Not really a prodigy at kissing, so..” And while it is somewhere, the remnants of her kiss are phantom. They have not stopped yet.

An amused chuckle greets in gusts across your lips, from your radical honesty, the moment itself, whatever. Crowns you the jokester anyways. “Guess we both have something to learn then.”

Wonder what future that comment entails.

[misguidedasgardian]

The Hour of the Wolf (10)

X. Lurking Shadows

MASTERLIST

Summary: Keep your friends and your husband close… and your enemies? Well…

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, pregnancy!, fear of childbirth, discussing death in childbirth and all that comes with it, unrealistic birthing scenes, (I mean, what would I know really?) 

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3,4 k 

Notes: Sorry for the delay, I think I lost my connection to this story. I know some of you didn’t like where this was going, the reader being so “defenseless” without Cregan, I had to re-read the whole thing to truly return to it.

Summary: Keep your friends and your husband close… and your enemies? Well…

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, pregnancy!, fear of childbirth, discussing death in childbirth and all that comes with it, unrealistic birthing scenes, (I mean, what would I know really?) 

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: X k 

Notes: Sorry for the delay, I think I lost my connection to this story. I know some of you didn’t like where this was going, the reader being so “defenseless” without Cregan, I had to re-read the whole thing to truly return to it.

After that horrid and terribly realistic nightmare, you never saw your uncle again, neither in the realms of dreams nor the realms of men, so that was a relief

But how could you see him? He was dead, he couldn’t hurt you anymore…

It took you a while to fully comprehend that, the next nights were tormentous, but then, something happened that brought you back to reality…

Your baby started kicking

You smiled as you felt the little kicks inside of you and touched your belly, that certainly grounded you, it made you come back to reality as of sorts, and it made you more focused, you attended every meeting, you held audiences, and you even appeared more in front of the people of King’s Landing, that gathered every afternoon chanting for you.

You were blooming, and even though you had relayed in Cregan a lot, you were beginning to settle in your post, without a hand.

But you missed him, terribly, specially at night 

days turned quickly into weeks, and then into months, and soon you could barely move, you grew tired quickly, you devoured everything you could during meals, and your babe moved tirelessly inside of you, specially at night

It had moved so much last night, that today at the small council meeting, you were fighting to not fell asleep

You couldn’t help it, you closed your eyes for barely a second, and you managed to open your eyes again, your lords were looking at you with kind eyes and soft smiles

“I’m so very sorry”, you muttered, rubbing your belly, trying to accommodate in the uncomfortable wooden chair

“You have nothing to be sorry for, our gracious lady”, muttered Lord Lannister, “perhaps we should move the meeting”

“No! no”, you insisted, “please continue”

“A new prince or princess to the seven Kingdoms, heir to the Iron Throne will be born soon, is a matter of great celebrations, a ray of hope, an unmistakable sign that the war is over and new times are coming, a new era of dragons, we should celebrate”, Lord Redwyne was a great narrator

“I agree”, said lord Celtigar, “the people need new things to look forwards to, I can see it from reports all over the Kingdoms, everyone should know”

Celebrate an heir you still didn’t have in our arms, gods, it was almost too similar of the story of Queen Aemma, your grandmother, as was told by your mother

“He or she isn’t born yet”, you said softly, and you had come to terms with the fact that there is a big chance you would perish in childbirth, but you were hopeful

“We are aware your grace”, muttered Lord Lannister, “but… as Lord Celtigar said… the people need a reason to celebrate”

“That might be true but, what if we do it after? after the birth, we should send word all over the Kingdoms, and then… when we have her or him in our arms, then we celebrate”, your lords seemed to realize what you were implying, and they of course nodded understandably

“Have we received word from our Lord Cregan?”, asked the maester

“Only his weekly reports of advances in the restoration of the North”, said quickly Lord Celtigar, who was indeed seating in your right as he was the hand

“The one who keeps demanding an audience is still… Lord Corlys”, you looked away, not wanting to face the man, perhaps you were being childish, but… you could not face the man that was supposed to be your grandfather by name 

“I don’t want to see him”, you said shortly

“Very well”, muttered Lord Redwyne, “He has send his bastard son Adam, to the capital, to seek an audience”

“I’m sure he doesn’t actually need anything”, muttered Lord Celtigar, “he is looking for a way in”

“Perhaps a meeting with our own master of coin would ease him enough to stop bothering us?”, you tried

“That will do your grace”, muttered Lord Redwyne

“Any other news of importance?”, you asked after a long sigh, rubbing your belly, your back had started to hurt

“We have completely lost contact with the Citadel, and oldtown”, confessed the Maester, everyone looked at him, concerned

“Explain”, you demanded 

“The situation was delicate after the end of the war, I have trusted brothers with which I exchange letters and they have all stopped”, that did truly concerned you

“What about the Hightowers?”, you asked then

“The last report is that they received tons of grains from the Tyrells and then they… stopped sending reports as well”. You took a long breath

“Should we… send someone to Oldtown?”, you suggested

“That would be best”

“Escorted by an army and a dragon?”, you continued, the lords were nervous and they exchanged looks between them

“Your Grace has a point, to send only lords would be a mistake”

“We cannot jump to arms against Oldtown for no apparent reason”

“Keep trying to contact your people, anyone, inside Old Town, if in a moon we don’t get any more news, we will gather a small force, and choose an envoy”, you commanded, and they all nodded 

Finally they released you as the sun was setting, and you thought about taking a nap, but if you did, then you were not going to be able to sleep at night, so you decided to go to the gardens to enjoy the sunset 

You liked to think you didn’t need a master of whispers, that you knew fairly well what was happening in your Kingdoms, but apparently… not…

He came unannounced, one second you were watching a beautiful winter rose bush, and the other, a presence came rushing to you unannounced, you raised your eyes and you thought you were dreaming

Cregan, you gasped with a wide smile, but it wiped quickly when you saw his scowl

“I thought you were happy with me, with our marriage”, you frowned as you looked at him, this is the first words to you for months?, “I thought this is what you wanted”

“It is! I am happy!”, you said quickly

“You must despise it, despise me, if you kept this from me so…”, you took a step towards him and around the bush, he got quiet when he saw you, the roses were hiding your round form but now he looked at you with wide eyes and open mouth

You looked so, so beautiful, in his mind, he had never seen anyone so breathtaking as you

He quieted himself and jumped to grab you in his arms and kissed you hungrily, all his anger slipped away from his mind and from yours and he wrapped his strong arms around you and held you lovingly and tightly

“I fucking missed you, you resentful little creature”, he growled, against our lips, right before he nibbles on your lower lip making you whimper

“I missed you”, you whispered, kissing him back, “So much”, you promised, gasping desperately against his lips, against the short beard he was growing.

There was no more time for anything else… 

. . .

Soon he had you naked in your rooms, resting on his chest after he actually proved to you how much he had missed you, and grabbing you so tightly as a way of a small punishment

“how did you manage to come without being announced?”, you asked, hugging him tightly

“I have my ways”, he muttered back, “but I really need to know”, he said, his voice choking with worry, “why?”, he asked, still caressing you, “I’ve been going over it over and over and many answers come to mind, none of them pleasant”, he needed an explanation of why you kept this from him, and you understood that

“I wrote you a letter”, you defended yourself, he signed, “You didn’t receive it?”

“I did not”, he muttered

“It was moons ago, explaining why I didn’t tell you, told you I missed you and asking you to return, then I received a letter from you asking me to go up there, and I couldn’t, I didn’t want to chance it”, you whispered, he caressed your belly tenderly, and it felt as good as you imagined it, his big warm hand, your babe kick inside your womb, making Cregan chuckle

“Have you been able to sleep?”

“Not when I eat strawberry tarts after the tea hour, then… it moves a lot”, you answered, Cregan laughed softly

“Well, you are carrying a wolf pup in there”, he teased

“Or a dragonling”, you answered back.

“oh gods, how could you let me leave you like this”, he said, he truly, truly felt bad

“When you got sick, and were about to die”, you confessed, “you whispered your son’s name in your fever induced dream, and I realized that if you were truly going to die, you were never going to see your son again, if you knew I was pregnant, you wouldn’t have gone North for another year or so, and your people needed you”.

He thought about it for long minutes, thinking about everything you had told him. And he sighed

You were right

“But what if something… had happened to you?”, he asked then

“I devised a plan, and I made everyone swear on it”, you confessed

“Which was?”, he asked

“If I perished in the birthing bed… My brother was to be crowned King, with the same council, and four regents to rule in his name until he became of age… Jeyne Arryn of the east, you, from the North, Lannister from the West, and a Tyrell from the South”, he nodded, “if our child had survived me, regardless, I asked them to give him to you, with a dragon egg…”, you told him, he was resigning her own children’s crown only for him to go back home where he wanted to be

“Well, it was a good plan”, he whispered. But he felt chills at the very thought of raising a little dragon without her beautiful dragon Queen by his side. Without even realizing he held you more tightly against him.

“But we will not come to that”, he said severely, “but I will go with it, if anything happens”

“Alright”, you whispered, “good to know”

But he was back now, no harm was going to come to you as he remembered the tumultuous this last weeks had been for him…

It took him weeks, a whole moon, maybe two, to get back to King’s Landing, more than he ever thought possible, he had to move a big group of people and as such, it required time… You could have given birth by now.

He thought about it again and again, to where it might have gone wrong.

Well, he now knew the reason why you couldn’t travel up North to meet him, because you were pregnant, he really appreciated you were being careful, and if the reports from the small council had any truth to them, you were doing great in the command of the Kingdoms, without a hand to help you.

You were truly magnificent 

You had managed to send compensations and start reparations for everything that needed repairs after the war, even though some town were ages away from truly recovering, you had even started talks with Dorne

It was a new age, and you were shining like the fire your family incarnated 

He was truly proud

And as Cregan was in the White Harbor, trying to sail south despite the weather, he had to prepare his son and leave him to travel behind with a stronghold of his house to come with im, including maesters and cooks, anyhow, he rode his steed from Winterfell to the White Harbour, he was so desperate he made the trip in half the time it took him last time, and then he sailed on a small, faster ship, back to the capital, he wasn’t even announced, he traveled almost in hiding, hoping nothing bad was going to happen, and it didn’t

That is why he could travel so fast, like no man has ever done before.

In a moon, his son and a small army was going to reach King’s landing, but the important part is that he made it… you were still pregnant, and he could accompany you through the birth, and… he was going to be here, to be with you 

“Please don’t ever keep something like this again, I thought we were trough that”, he reprimanded, and you nodded

“Yes husband”

You promised, inside this room or when it was just the two of you, you were his wife, not his Queen, and… it was hard to balance both, but he was patient, and you were smart.

In the next day Cregan would spend his days trying to get ahold of the current situation in the Kingdoms, and he felt somewhat unneeded, you were doing great without him, but he was happy to be back to take over so you could rest, as he had been told that you were falling asleep sometimes.

He was very concerned about the situation in Old Town, truly concerned, that was dangerous, but at the same time, he didn’t want to risk anyone from the small council, good thing though they had the Lannisters on their side this time

“We should call in the Tyrells”, you muttered as you ate a strawberry miniature pie, “make sure their alliances are still with us”

“Good plan”, he said over breakfast, “that way they will know they are alienated”

You had a bad feeling over the Hightower situation, it made you truly nervous. Summing up to the fact that Cregan wouldn’t leave your side.

It's like he didn’t trust you anymore, he was looming over you, watching you closely. Whenever you had an audience or a meeting he was right beside you 

You had grown impossible bigger, you could barely move, you had to call in your maids and ladies in waiting again, for you couldn’t even put on shoes without assistance.

Your only consolation is that your baby was kicking wildly every morning, and according to the maesters, she or he was healthy and ready to come out at any moment. 

You had also seen them very nervous, consulting with the stars and other methods to calm the small council about your own wellbeing, nobody said it outloud, but you could see the worry in their faces

Also according to the maesters, it was a 50/50 chance that you’ll perish, taking into account your family’s history, but they were hopeful, because you, as Queen, as access to the best maesters, and as it was more at stake, they were going to take great care of you.

Besides, your mother had given birth to 5 healthy boys, and you, and survived seven pregnancies. 

But her mother didn’t

You tried not to think about it

The small council, despise it all, were hopeful and had huge celebrations planned for the arrival of the future Prince or Princess

You were concerned about the future, of you, and of your child, but that was reduced to nothing as suddenly, when you were getting dressed, you felt like a fountain inside of you collapsed, and you released a large amount of water

“The babe!”, cried your lady in waiting, “fetch the maester and the midwives!”, she commanded quickly

Cregan had left early to go on a mission deep in the city, and he wasn’t in the castle when the midwives came to you, changed your clothes to a simple nightdress, and laid you there in your own bed.

You started crying out in pain as the contractions began, and according to the midwife, it could take all day, the process was long

“Mmmmm”, you moaned in pain, “I need to be on my feet”

“My Queen!”, you wouldn’t take no for an answer, they help you up and you walked around the room, rubbing your back with one hand and your belly with the other 

You needed to obey what your body needed, and you felt relieved as you walked around, taking deep breaths

“You are doing great, your Grace”, they encouraged, the sweet ladies. 

Another construction swept over you

“Notify the small council, and please try to find my husband”, you begged them, and they nodded and one of them ran to fulfill your command 

But your sweet and calm disposition didn’t last long

“THAT FUCKING CUNT!”, you screamed, hours later, laying on your bed, legs spread wide open, “I fucking hate him for doing this to me”, the oldest of the midwives just smiled, having flashbacks of Rhaenyra when she gave birth herself 

“Not long now, sweet Queen”

The small council was gathered, nervously waiting for news of you, they had servants all placed from the small council chambers to your rooms, so they could know what was happening.

“I had commanded the high Septon to keep our Queen in his prayers for the last week”, muttered lord Redwyne, who was very devout, but, it was not of great comfort to the remaining men in the room

“She will survive this”, asserted Lord Celtigar

“The maesters and midwives agree that it was a easy pregnancy”, affirmed the Grand Maester

They didn’t know what else to talk about

“Where is Lord Cregan?”

“He reached the Queen’s chambers”, said the Lord Commander, entering the room

“Good”

You felt so relieved when you saw Cregan entering your chambers, kneeling by your side

“Your Grace, is not customary for the King to be present during the Birth”, muttered the lead Midwife

“i don’t care”, he leaned in, kissing your sweaty forehead

“Are you alright my love?”, you barely nodded, grabbing onto him and the bedsheet, preparing for the next contraction that made your whole body tremble

“They are more close to each other, I think it's time”

“It hurts so much”, you cried, the grand maester showed up then, and made you drink the last of milk of the poppy that was allowed for pregnant women 

Cregan looked at the scene concerned, there was no blood yet, and it had been barely a couple of hours so, he was optimistic, you were in good health, and he was there by your side, it had to be alright, it had to.

“Alright, when the next contraction comes, your grace will start pushing, alright?”, you barely nodded, grabbing onto Cregan so tightly he was afraid you’d snap his hand, turning his bones into dust

And it washed over you, more intense and painful than the ones before, with a scream, you did exactly that.

You had never done it before, but it felt like your body knew exactly what to do 

But you have never been in so much pain in your entire life

Never

“Again”, demanded the Midwife, and you were really losing it in the pain

“There's blood”, muttered Cregan, truly concern

“That is normal your grace”, the pain never left you now, it took ahold of you and wouldn’t let go

You started crying, you were in so much pain you feared that there was never going to be relief again.

“Don’t cry my love, you are doing great”, he whispered against your temple

“I’m scared!”, you cried

“Again your grace please, I can see the head”, encouraged the youngest and sweeter of the midwives

“Arrrggghhhhhh!”, you screamed at the top of your lungs

. . .

Fast steps could be heard against the stone walls of the Keep, resounding in the empty corridors

The sun was hiding in the horizon when a young boy interrupted in the small council chamber, where the men inside jumped at the intrusion

“What has happened?”, demanded Lord Lannister

“The Queen!”, he said hastily, there were the longest seconds as he regained his breath

“Well? SPEAK BOY!”, demanded Lord Redwyne, he took a long breath and then he finally managed to spoke

“She is well, and we have a Prince! my lords! a boy!”

They all jumped from their seats and hugged one another

“A prince! send the ravens to every corner of the Kingdoms!”

“Long live our Queen!”

taglist!

@lyannesworld @tremendouswolfsaladranch @unlesshouse @mimsie95 @ostricx @amelia262006 @marihoneywk @ahristata @happinessinthebeing @dd122004dd

@lyannesworld @aestmilky @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @stargaryenx @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @good-night-starlight @yentroucnagol @beebeechaos @brakingboundaries @duds31 @@persophonekarter @missusnora @aleemendoza2425-blog @aesthetic0cherryblossom @arrozyfrijoles23

[secondbeatsongs]

alright my friends.

it’s time.

look! the wall I always take my pictures in front of is blue now! so much has changed. aeons have passed.

this looks unsettling

ohhhh this is dry milk powder! I’d know that taste anywhere - I used to love the stuff, and it’s pretty flammable.

hmm. tastes like there’s a bit of salt in this, and definitely some poppy seeds. fascinating.

I was gonna just go right to cooking it but hahaha holy shit this looks so gross now that I've added water to it

look at it! it looks like a really scummy pond with dead bugs floating in it!

okay. waiting-four-minutes time

Jackie why are you squeaking at me. I’m not letting you climb in the dishwasher again

(look at all the claw marks on the woodwork! she's a menace)

hmmm.

it doesn’t have a strong smell - it smells mostly of noodles with just a hint of garlic and caraway underneath

oh! all the sauce sank to the bottom, but stirring it up there’s definitely some creaminess in the texture of the sauce

hmm. now that it’s stirred up and there’s steam coming off of it, it smells mostly like hot milk, but specifically the instant kind. unsurprising.

okay, I’ve put this off for long enough.

oh the noodle texture is particularly slimy. and...huh.

on their own, the noodles taste like nothing. maybe some milk taste, but not much otherwise. but when I get a bite that has lots of seeds in it, I definitely taste them! and some bits of onion, too.

it’s not outright disgusting though, so that’s something

does it taste like an everything bagel? no. it tastes like noodles with caraway, poppy, sesame, onion, and salt.

does the sauce taste like cream cheese? disappointingly, no! it’s got a milky creaminess, but no sour tang to it at all!

weirdly, I feel like if it did have that sourness, it might taste more like an everything bagel.

speaking of...

it’s time for some science

so the first thing I have is popcorn that’s supposed to be everything-bagel-and-cream-cheese flavored. my sibling gave me this specifically for this experiment, so everyone say thank you to them for enabling me.

interesting! this doesn’t taste bad. it still doesn’t taste like bagel (and actually hold on...no, the popcorn on its own doesn’t taste like bagel either, just garlic) but I think the flavoring on the popcorn has added some much-needed taste to the noodles, and so it mildly improves it. three stars

next for the cream cheese

oh, significantly improved! ...or maybe I just love cream cheese. it adds such a nice tangy creaminess to it, and balances out the spices and seeds. four stars.

still tastes nothing like a bagel, though.

and so we try: packaged everything bagel seasoning!

ah. this was a lateral move. the seasoning on its own tastes good, but when added to the noodles it does nothing but make it a bit more salty. one star.

so now, I have to reveal to you. that I have one final trick. one last thing I can do to attempt to make these noodles taste like an everything bagel.

behold: an everything bagel

(and it’s a fancy one too! not a pre-packaged one! it’s even got sunflower seeds on it!)

I’m going to try a couple bites without cream cheese, and then I’m gonna add cream cheese and try that

...

hmm...

conclusion: this was a waste of a good everything bagel

I liked the cream cheese variation better, simply because I stopped being able to taste the noodles at all. five stars!

so when I started out I said the noodles themselves were not outright disgusting, but I’ve changed my mind. after tasting this really good actual everything bagel, these noodles do disgust me. partially because of their flavor, but more because of their (and Nissin's) moral integrity.

how dare they claim that this is what an everything bagel tastes like. this is an insult to bagels everywhere, and I find it truly offensive.

...anyway I guess I’m gonna go eat the rest of this now, because this is my actual breakfast today.

welp.

oh god. and I still have two more of these cup noodles! I forgot; I bought extras just in case!

wish me luck -_-

[bitchimasnake-sss]

sfw alphabet ft. monkey d. luffy!!!

warnings: might be a little suggestive here and there, but mostly wholesome lol <3 [not proofread so it probably has a lot of errors.]

ENOUGH horniness, my children. time to simp. he is so cute plsplspls-

💗affection:

๋࣭ ⭑how affectionate are they? luffy is super-duper affectionate. not just to you, to literally anyone he calls his friends. it is not out of the ordinary for you to wake up and see luffy sitting on zoro's shoulders as the mosshead does weight training. "zoro, you'll pull a muscle. luffy, get off." nami suggests as she passes by the captain and his right hand man. luffy reacts by pouting and zoro by huffing as if he isn't carrying a 19 yr old, fully grown adult on his shoulders. so anyways, obviously he is super affectionate and cuddly towards you too. he always in clinging onto you, peppering absent-minded kisses onto your skin and giving you an himbo grins. ๋࣭ ⭑how do they show affection? by clinging onto you like plastic with static charge. he is inseparable. everything you're doing, he needs to be a part of it. everything he's doing, you need to be a part of it. but don't be surprised when all of a sudden, he leaves you to go see some weird sea-creatures with ussop and chopper. he would then get distracted by them and they would probably start their regular-schmegular shenanigans. but he remembers he has a BEAUTIFUL girlfriend, he is gonna come skipping over to you. enjoy the next 43 hours of cuddles.

💗best friend:

๋࣭ ⭑what would they be like as a best friend? like everyone else on the ship, he is super ride or die, so, him as a best friend is truly a blessing. from 3 am snack runs to gossiping (you gossip, he listens) to actual pillow fights and pillow forts (cause hes a child like that), you are in for a wild ride if you're his best friend. since he is so emotionally mature but so fucking weird, expect to receieve some bizarre anecdotes every once in a while. ๋࣭ ⭑how would the friendship start? how do any friendships start with luffy?? he just shows up and you accept him for all his dumbassery. so, thats how it probably started.

💗cuddles:

๋࣭ ⭑do they like to cuddle? yes. omg obviously yes. ๋࣭ ⭑how would they cuddle? i dont even know how to answer this because i firmly believe he just is out there doing anything?? like ofc he holds you all nice and sweet against him. but sometimes he just wants to hold onto you and it doesn't really matter how. so, he has some unconventional methods* of touching and cuddling. unconventional methods include: - sleeping on the other side of the mattress but holding you by his outstretched hands - lying a little bit apart but his toe is on your calf - look realistically if he could he would wrap himself around you like a python but um, he doesnt wanna scare you off

💗domestic :

๋࣭ ⭑how are they at cooking and cleaning? yes you do the cooking. yes you do the cleaning. look, king luffy is no sexist, misogynistic toe-nail rag who expects you to do the entire work but for the sake of saving your own life, you should do it. he has an iron stomach and can probably eat straight up poison and survive. he has survived in shitty situations so he really doesn't care how clean his room is. but can you a mere mortal thrive like that? you'd be dead wednesday. so, just do the cooking and cleaning. he will be down to help but uh, sometimes its better not to ask for his help.

💗ending:

๋࣭ ⭑if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it? luffy doesn't seem like he would break things off at any costs tbh. if someone's walking out, it you babes (he has terrible abandonment issues 😁) but if he had to. if he had to. then i think it'll be like getting suckered punched in the guts by a saw. he is never as solemn and quite as he is rn and even though he waves it off with a smile, you can see his lashline thick with tears. if you were the one breaking up with him, he wouldn't hold you back from leaving if he understood why you were leaving. but if you're leaving unannounced, that'll quite literally destroy him.

💗fiance(e):

๋࣭ ⭑how do they feel about commitment? didn't really care about labels. not in a fuckboy way but in a "well i think you're pretty and i do wanna kiss you if you let me, so, sure be my girlfriend or whatever" way. he just truly doesn't care all that much about labels, so when you got together, you were the one who had to initiate the "What are we?" conversation. "luffy" you whisper meekly, sat beside him. his fingers are intertwined against yours and you fight off a blush as you look at him, "i- uh, you know i just was wondering. like- it's just what are we?" he looks up from your intertwined hands, dumbfounded, "pirates???" but when you did suggest that maybe you could be his girlfriend, i assure you he went about every conversation like "my GIRLFRIEND yn told me". ๋࣭ ⭑how quick would they want to get married? yk what i said about labels? 100% true. doesn't mean he doesn't wanna marry you tho?? he thought actually you like someone and just marry them. so, after a month of officially dating, you both are sitting on the deck, eating some snack sanji made when luffy gives you a bright grin, "say yn, when do we get married?" you almost choke on your food, "lu- we are niNETEEN?" "yeah? isn't sooner better?" and now you're rambling, "we cannot get married now. i mean we're young and we should focus on chasing our goals. like don't you wanna be the king of the pirates? and i really-" "i can be the king of the pirates and your husband whats the big deal?" basically, he's just ready to marry you whenever, just say the word.

💗gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?):

๋࣭ ⭑physically: because of his sheer overpowered strength, he tries to be very gentle with you but tends to forget it every once in a while. nsfw: chopper often asks you why your voice sounds hoarse and why there are random bruises on your skin. you dont have it in you to let the resident doctor know that sometimes your boyfriend gets carried away. ๋࣭ ⭑emotionally: as i said a few points above, luffy is a truly emotionally mature dude but he's kinda silly goofy and that's why you always get weird anecdotes from him. he is always there for you in his unconventional ways and is really good at deducing whether he should say something or not according to your mood. evidence: 8th of march, 11:52 pm pre-dating you he sits besides you in you room as you sob into your hands. he's tried comforting you and a part of you feels so fucking stupid for crying in front of your captain like a child. but you were drunk and ussop had made an off-hand comment about how kaya was the prettiest girl he had seen and that made you spiral if you would ever get a guy that would say things like that about you. it was a stupid fear and yet, you heaved against your own palms as luffy sat beside you. "but you're pretty!" he seemed to argue to the wall, "i think youre the prettiest!!" "i- i don't feel like it" "are you saying im a liar?" "no, you're just a nice person. you always compliment sanji's cooking and nami's navigation tactics and ussop's inventions and chopp-" "thats cause all the people on my crew are the best at what they do? i have standards, is all." "who taught you the word 'standards'?" "i overhead nami when we were docked on an island. nami was telling some crying girl in a party that men arent shit and she should have some standards" "right, that checks out." well, atleast you're not crying anymore.

💗hugs:

๋࣭ ⭑do they like hugs? yes. physical touch is his domain thru and thru ๋࣭ ⭑how often do they do it? like atleast 15 times a day. out of which 10 times are you, rest 5 are wild cards that can come on anybody and everybody on the crew. ๋࣭ ⭑what are their hugs like? he has death-grip type of hugs. as if, if he didnt hold onto you, you will crumble. ngl its probably kinda nice and soothing for the first five mins, after that you're sweating profusely.

💗"I love you":

๋࣭ ⭑how fast do they say the L-word? pretty randomly, pretty fast. luffy doesnt exactly plan his words and since he's so honest, sometimes he just says shit. "you're pretty" "i'm hungry" "i love you" "do you think if two sea-kings had a baby that it will be a bigger sea-king? ussop asked me that today" yeah, it is indeed a whiplash inducing experience and you're left dumbfounded.

💗jealousy:

๋࣭ ⭑how jealous do they get? he's a chill dude and wouldn't honestly know if someone was flirting with you (unless that person was being very touchy feely and blatant). but he is good at reading emotions so, if someone happens to cross the line and you seem even a tad bit uncomfy, he is all for a fist-fight. nobody makes his girl uncomfy, especially not some lame ass rando. he behaves the same way with nami and robin too tho, like if someone weirds them out, the captain is ready to enter god-mode. he's just a sweet dude who cares about his crew. ๋࣭ ⭑what do they do when they’re jealous? he almost always starts a fight. you and the girls have to intervene because zoro and sanji just watch amused from the sidelines lol. afterwards, luffy does get a little pouty like "he was so weird you should have let me deal with him" but it's not something you cannot deal away with food and a lot of kisses.

💗kisses:

๋࣭ ⭑what are their kisses like: sloppy asf!! this man is messy and all in your business, how do you expect his kisses to be any different? especially at first, he is so sloppy, kinda unsure of what he is to do. but after enough make-out sessions, he knows you better, so his technique's much much better. he always kisses you for a long while too. like even his "quick kisses" before he leaves for somewhere are long enough for the crew to get irritated lmao. ๋࣭ ⭑where does he like to kiss you: the question should be where does he not like kissing you? he is infatuated and can barely control himself around you. any part of you that's visible to him is up for grabs to him. he also is a heavy, heavy supporter of pda. not cause he wants to show you or off (which he does), but because you look so pretty looking at the sunset, what is he gonna do? not kiss you???

💗little ones:

๋࣭ ⭑how are they around children? he is really, really good with children cause he's so childish himself 😃 but like jokes apart, whenever he is interacting with young kids (anyone whos older than five), he gets like super invested in the games with them. he refuses to lose to children. yeah so what if toge is screaming???? he shouldnt have asked to a match if he didnt wanna lose. as a menace to society, he also steals those kids' candy mindlessly and then shrugs confused when you ask him why the kid is crying. tldr; he is great entertainment for kids but do not leave him alone with kids or the kids will be sacrificed to some higher, eldritch deity.

💗mornings:

๋࣭ ⭑how are mornings spent with them? sleeping, if i am being very honest. the sunlight filters through the window of your room and you groggily open your eyes, fighting back a yawn. luffy is practically draped over you, asleep. he's drooling onto your tshirt and you look at him with half love and half "yo wtf dude" kinda expression. he is such a heavy sleeper!!! oh my god. its like someone can come and do construction in your cabin and he'd sleep thru it. but if he heard sanji yell "BREAKFASTS READY" then he's grabbing you in his arms and running to the kitchen. he would literally run to the kitchen while half asleep. but most of the times, he wakes up by himself when he's hungry and shakes you awake till you (reluctantly) wake up too. it doesn't help that he always wakes up super-hyperactive first thing in the morning too. also, i am sure he's the type of boyfriend that insists to kiss you with morning breath even if you stuff your head into the pillow to avoid it. he will chase you thru the ship if he has to to get that fucking kiss.

💗nights:

๋࣭ ⭑how are nights spent with them?: sleeping, again. luffy is usually tired from his day-long shenanigans and after eating an entire nuclear family worth of food for dinner, he is ready to fall asleep. but he is always so nice, he tries really hard to stay up till you're done talking to the crew/finishing your work to come in your shared room. he always greets you with a tired grin, asking you to lay next to him and tell him how your day went (as if he wasnt next to you like 90% of the time.) he tries super hard to stay up but he almost always sleeps while you're still talking. its not his fault!! he's exhausted and your voice is so sweet and your fingers are gently massaging his scalp and your skin feels so smooth against his and- you get the picture. he's asleep. ofc you don't mind. he's adorable and you let him hold onto you as you finish up some work/fall asleep yourself.

💗open:

๋࣭ ⭑when would they start revealing things about themselves: he actually forgets to tell you things, not out of intention but because it serves no narrative purpose to the plot lmao. (i mean he literally forgot to inform anyone about ace and was just like "YEAH THATS MY BIG BRO!!" when ace showed up in alabasta) so, yeah, technically it does take him pretty long. but if you ask him questions about his past, he would most certainly start telling you all his life's lore without a second thought. and you'd be stuck thinking "how tf did all of this happen to a child???" ๋࣭ ⭑do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly: like i said, he will infodump if you ask him, otherwise he would just not tell things to you. so, really depends on how good you are at asking questions.

💗patience:

๋࣭ ⭑how easily angered are they?: he is an easy-going dude. i mean he usually fights half of his battles unserious (till some fucked up thing happens and he gets angry enough to fight for real). so, he doesn't get all that angry on a day-to-day basis. he does get pouty and offended every once in a while, but he literally moves on from that within half an hour. he never holds onto those things for a larger chunk of time.

💗quizzes:

๋࣭ ⭑ how much would they remember about you? actually, quite a lot!! like i said, he makes a genuine effort to always listen to you (even when hes tired), so, he always remembers things that are personal to you and you may have said to him in passing. ๋࣭ ⭑do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything? honestly, if it isn't something very, very close to your heart, luffy will probably mis-remember it. he remembers things but never in the right context, so, its kind of a struggle to remind him those things. but its kinda endearing cause even if you are just re-telling him a story or something, he looks at you so intently with those bug-like wide eyes and a silly smile that it makes all of your annoyance fade away.

💗remember:

 ๋࣭ ⭑what is their favorite moment in your relationship?: if you ask robin, the quickest way to a man's heart is through his third and fourth ribs. if you ask luffy, it's thru food. (we know how much luffy loves food omg!!) you asked sanji to help you make a very very simple soup for luffy when he was injured after a fight. you wanted him to get better and take care of him. sanji had complied happily and helped you make a simple mushroom soup for the captain. so, imagine luffy's surprise when he was woken up by your sound. you were sitting by his side, a bowl of steaming soup in your hand and you smiled at him sheepishly, "i made you some soup." no matter how good of a cook sanji is, luffy genuinely believes that soup was the best thing he had ever tasted. (now every time he gets sick, he starts dropping hints like "if only someone made me some soup... with some nice mushrooms... maybe ill feel better. if onlyyyy" "ill make you the soup luffy" "yay!! i mean," fake coughs, "thankyou... im so weak i need some soup" )

💗security:

๋࣭ ⭑how protective are they? insanely protective. even an ounce of discomfort on you/the crew means he's gonna go berserk. ๋࣭ ⭑how would they protect you? hes the rubber man, he'd figure something out ๋࣭ ⭑how would they like to be protected? he doesn't typically need protection, both cause he's self-sufficient and also cause he lowkey loves fucking things up. but every once in a while, when the navy catches up to the crew and you say "it's okay, let me handle this." he falls in love. it's just so admirable of you to always step up (even when you dont necessarily have to).

💗try: 

๋࣭ ⭑how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks? he honestly loves you a lot, but i dont think he has the brain capacity to pull off extravagant plans. one time he tried to surprise you for your birthday by planning a party with the crew. he ended up blabbering the entire plan by mid-afternoon. he is just terrible at secrets. but he loves to spoil you. anything you even show the slightest bit of interest in, he needs to buy it (doesnt matter if he has to risk getting charged a few billion berries by nami). he is super sweet and he shows that mostly through action and words. so, if you wanna do any fancy-shmancy thing, just organise it yourself and call luffy later.

💗ugly:

๋࣭ ⭑what would be some bad habits of theirs?

💗vanity:

๋࣭ ⭑ how concerned are they with their looks? not very concerned. he has you for girlfriend, you're the most gorgeous woman alive, you love him. does he need to care about anything else? like zoro, after getting in a relationship, he would def get better at just personal maintenance and all. if you like anything like skincare/makeup, best believe he will be the kind of boyfriend that does 3 hour long skincare routines with you just for the heck of it. (you are the reason luffy is an emperor with the nicest skin 😭✊🏼)

💗whole: 

๋࣭ ⭑would they feel incomplete without you? yes. simply put, yes. he will be Devastated (with a capital D) incase you're gone. ofcourse, i see he doesn't seem the type to be stuck in despair forever, but it will be really really hard for him. for a few days, luffy would probably stop being luffy.

💗xtra (a random headcanon for them):

i have a personal belief that luffy sucks ass at games. let me explain. it's always the games where the rules are fairly simple where he ends up losing (he then whines and cries and the entire crew kinda pity-laughs it away) but the games with the most brainpower required? he wins those. easily. (he always just gets lucky one way or the other.) i also hc him as the kind of guy who wins chess by eating the pieces so, do what you must with this information 👏🏼

💗yuck:

๋࣭ ⭑what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner? he likes almost everybody unless they are a chauvinistic prick, so rest assured. plus, if he doesnt like anything, you'd probably find out sooner than later.

💗zzz:

he's already asleep. he's tired, he's a gremlin and he's asleep.

a/n: i thought i would do this for all characters but lord, the amount of work just one of these beasts requires has me quaking- (it's like writing 26 oneshots in one go 😭) but i def wanna write one for sanjiii &lt;3

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Well Directed.

Written for a very lovely, very patient anonymous commisioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Arlecchino x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 2.0k.

TW: Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Intimidation, Biting/Blood, Unhealthy Relationships, and Slight Dehumanization.

Arlecchino greeted you the way she always did – through touch.

Despite everything, you had to admit Arlecchino’s ability to dampen her footsteps, to muffle her breathing, to somehow disguise the weight of her state and heat of her unnaturally warm body and the very fact of her own existence was undeniably impressive – even more so when she managed to hide herself from someone like you, someone so preoccupied with knowing the exact position of every actor as soon as they stepped onto your stage. Your first hint that she was coming to see you was the feeling of her talons on the dip of your shoulder, drifting upward to the curve of your neck, then the sight of her reflection in the mirror of your vanity, appearing as if she’d always been there, as if your eyes hadn’t been fixed to the door of your dressing room since locked yourself behind it, content to spend your intermission in peaceful seclusion. You’d planned to use what little free time you had to clear your head and prepare yourself properly for the rest of the night, but as always, she was there to make sure your mind would be filled with only thoughts of her. If Arlecchino had it her way, there was a good chance you’d never be able to think about anything else.

When you tried to stand, crumbling under the reflex to put any amount of distance between you and her, Arlecchino’s hand rose to your throat, catching you just under the chin and burying her claws in each corner of your jaw. Immediately, you went still, and she rewarded you with an airy chuckle, a tilted head. “Good puppet,” she praised, loosening her hold on you with the assurance that you’d learned your lesson quickly. “You were brilliant out there. Truly, the rest of the production is paler for having to stand in comparison to you.”

You wished you could’ve preened, could’ve basked her praise the same way you did when one of your performances caught the eye of a particularly flattering columnist, when you overheard one of your costars gushing about how proud they were to be working with someone of your renowned. Instead, all her words – no matter how kind, no matter how adoring – ever seemed to do was send a chill down your spine, to make you regret ever auditioning in the first place. Could her praise be considered sincere, if you knew she wouldn’t remember a single line you delivered a few minutes after the curtains closed? Could you take her compliments as anything but blatant condescension, if you knew the only reason she’d sat through your performance at all was to admire her newest toy?

But, you couldn’t say that out loud, so you only bowed your head, settling onto the stool of your vanity as you attempted to find your voice. “It was only the first act,” you mumbled, eventually. “And my scenes were hardly anything noteworthy. My character doesn’t really find their footing until the climax.”

“I disagree. Try as I might, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” She didn’t have to tell you that. You’d felt stare prying into you every time you were on stage, and if it hadn’t been for the blinding lights, you were sure you would’ve been able to see her in the dead-center of the first row, grinning wildly as she watched you put on a show she’d already attended half a dozen times since opening night. If she actually bothered to pay attention, you were sure she would have the script memorized, by now. “Although, I couldn’t help but notice you weren’t wearing my last gift. What if I lost track of you up there, dear?”

Her last ‘gift’. Your heart skipped a beat at the reminder. It’d been a gaudy thing – a rose-shaped breastpin, crafted with tens of hundreds of pinprick rubies and lined with a frame of pure obsidian. She’d let one of her masked soldiers make the delivery, but her note had been clear enough. You were supposed to wear the awful thing during your next performance, in front of a crowd of hundreds. You’d crushed it under your heel before your anger could turn into mortification. The dread had only taken root as you cleaned up the broken pieces and began to imagine how Arlecchino might react to your ungratefulness. She could weather most things, but such blatant disobedient had never gotten you more than a bruised cheek, rope-burnt wrists, and a few days spent in the guestroom of her manor.

“I’m sorry, my lord. I tried, but the costuming department overruled me.” You let your eyes fall to the ground, playing sheepish. As if you were genuinely apologetic. As if any part of you regretted not being able to wear her claim on you in front of half the population of Fontaine. “You know how it is. Everything has to be approved by the director, lest a misplaced prop lead the audience to the wrong conclusion.”

She hummed, letting her hand fall to the low collar of your top. It was far from the most risqué costume you’d ever worn, but the plunging neckline suddenly left you feeling more exposed than you would’ve liked. “Give me a name.”

You stiffened. “…excuse me?”

“Who made the call? Give me a name and I’ll take care of the rest.” Her pitch-black claws ran over your collarbone, playing with the idea of breaking the skin. You already knew that the ghost of her drifting affection would linger for seconds, minutes, hours after she was gone, when you were left alone with her voice still ringing in your ears. It was more than likely that you’d spend the second act performing under the careful supervision of her phantom touch. “If it’s the director, don’t bite your tongue. The show can go on without that bumbling idiot.”

“No, I—” The threat was clear, direct. She’d made similar promises before – when the man behind the counter of her preferred bakery called you by your name as you hung from her arm, when one of her subordinates seemed just a little too excited to attend one of your shows. In her ideal world, you’d be little more than a ballerina twirling in one of her music boxes; there to smile and dance when she desired to see you and locked away from prying eyes when she did not. You’d do nothing but giggle and laugh and bend to her whims, too happy in her gilded cage to ever throw yourself at the bars. “I’m sorry,” you said, again, and this time you tried to mean it. “I… I lied to you, earlier. I damaged it this morning while trying to put it on, and—” A pause, a laugh. “Archons, I’m so embarrassed. I just couldn’t stand the idea of letting you know I was so thoughtless with one of your presents.”

It was far from your best work. Your speech was too stilted, your tone too dire for the occasion, your body language too stiff to convey much of anything beyond the simple hope that she would believe you. You would’ve been mortified to let anything so visibly improvised make it in front of a real audience, but Arlecchino was far from a critic. Her grin – as unwavering as it was monstrous – softened, her sadism partially sated by your complete, unabashed submission. Her hand fell away from you completely, and you beamed, letting your heart soar at the thought that she’d finally found some scrap of empathy for you.

Of course, your elation was quickly punished. It always caught you off guard – just how fast she was, just how strong she was, just how much she enjoyed reminding you of exactly why she could afford to be so self-indulgent when it came to her ever-growing collection of pretty little things. One moment, you were smiling at her reflection, and the next, the mirror had been shattered into more pieces than you could ever be able to count, anything it might’ve once shown distorted beyond all recognition. An intricate web of hairline fractures stretched outward from the point where her fist connected with the glass, but she regarded the devastation with little more than a slight hum, a sleeve dragged over her bleeding knuckles. “I think it’s my turn to apologize.” The sound of her heels against tile, the feeling of her arms wrapping around your waist. “You know how I get when I’m upset.”

Upset. You could’ve laughed, if you hadn’t forgotten how to use your lungs. You could’ve cried, if you weren’t too scared to move. If your unresponsiveness bothered her, if she noticed you hadn’t blinked since she lashed out, your paralysis wasn’t deemed worthy of her concern. Instead, she only pulled you against her chest, letting her chin rest on the dip of your shoulder. “You’re special, you know. I don’t lose my temper for every little actor who thinks they can get away with being so…” Her claws skirted over your side, threatening to tear through the delicate fabric of your costume. “Unappreciative. That’s a good word for it, isn’t it? You’ve always been the more eloquent one, between the two of us.”

Multiple temptations surfaced in you all at once. Part of you wanted to cry, to beg for her forgiveness, to promise you’d never be so selfish and so stupid again if she’d only let you go unharmed tonight. Another more rebellious faction screamed at you to run, to try in vain to hide yourself away from such an obvious predator, unwilling to acknowledge how many times you’d tried that before and how many times it hadn’t worked. And yet, neither impulse overwhelmed you, in the end. Arlecchino’s training took control and you left you speaking hollowly, the words finding your way to your tongue before your conscious mind could so much as realize that you’d opened your mouth. “Unappreciative, my lord. I’ve been unappreciative.” Then, leaning against her, “What can I do to earn your forgiveness?”

“Good little thing,” she said, by way of an answer. Her grin was the widest it’d ever been. “My perfect little puppet.”

This time, you were able to find a note of joy in her praise, to seek comfort in the fact that her faux-affection meant you wouldn’t be the next thing crushed under her rage. That happiness was only partially dampened by the weight of her lips against your shoulder, then drifting upward, latching onto the tender patch of flesh just below your jugular. Her teeth, like her fingertips, were sharpened to fine points, each able to pierce your skin with all the thought it would’ve taken her to swat a fly out of the air, to pluck a wildflower from its patch. You felt warm blood trickle past her lips and down your collarbone, let a low whimper slip past your grit teeth as she dug that much deeper, as she carelessly tore through everything she touched. When you shifted, attempting to relieve a fraction of the pressure on your throat, of the burning ache just underneath your skin, her hands clamped down around your hips, her hold on you tightening and dragging you that much closer to her chest, that much deeper into her embrace.

By the time she pulled away, there was a dark ring of bruising carved into the side of your neck, emphasized by the bright red stain of her lipstick against your skin, the trail of crimson dripping down your chest and pooling above your collarbone. You weren’t able to stop yourself, cursing as you scrambled for something on your vanity table that you could use to limit the damage, but Arlecchino stopped you, taking up either of your wrists and forcing your arms to your sides. “Trying to hurt my feelings again?” She ran her tongue up the side of your throat, adding a vulgar smear to the mess she’d made of you. “Leave it as it is – I want you wearing my mark for the rest of your performance. And, if someone tries to stop you, tell them I’m the only one you’ll be taking direction from, from now on.”  

You were too stunned to respond, too mortified to blink. Somewhere in the distance, a stagehand called five minutes to curtain, and Arlecchino let out a breathy laugh. With no small amount of hesitancy, she detangled herself from you, making her way to the door of the dressing room, the space now too contaminated to be called your own.

As her fingertips grazed the knob, her glanced back to you, her eyes meeting yours in the shattered remains of your mirror. You could’ve sworn you could still see the faint tint of your blood on her teeth as the corner of her lips tugged upward and something buried deep, deep inside of you withered and died.

“I’ll be watching, dearest.”

[mdhwrites]

TOH Fans Don't Know What Redemption Is

TL:DR: TOH as a show uses the tropes and veneer of redemption a lot but fails to actually engage with the fact that redemption is not about no longer being a dick. Your kind of a dick friend does not need to be redeemed for calling you names, they just need to stop calling you names. No, redemption is about making up for past sins... Which TOH never does.

You do not go to confessional to tell someone you did something bad and then ask them to forget about it. You go there to be told what you must do to be redeemed in the eyes of the Lord or to be assured that there was no sin in the first place. If there was, you are asked to perform a service, even if just a set of prayers, to make up for your slip in faith and show your devotion to the path of good. You sacrifice your time and seek to do better. That is inherently a part of redemption. I frame this religiously but hey, if you get rowdy in your buddy's house when they asked you not to and you break something of theirs, you don't just apologize. You usually actually try to make it up to them if you can because otherwise all you've done is give them words when it's actions that spoke for your disregard to them. You might even ask what you can do to make it up to them.

For an absolutely classic and genuinely amazing example of this: Megamind. In the middle of his arc, Roxanne makes it clear that what Megamind has done has hurt her. Hurt what she cares about. That it has made her world worse. What does Megamind do? He returns the art, he cleans up the city... In his own way and in general UNDOES HIS CRIMES. In that one moment, he stops being selfish and actively attempts to make up for it for someone else by righting his wrongs. The worst you can say is that he's doing it because he likes someone and wants their affection but like... Yeah, that's the motivation to change and Megamind even admits himself that he's finding doing good to be enjoyable now. It's a powerful moment because it so clearly contrasts who he was in a way that would be impossible if he were not seeking redemption and being redeemed.

The ONE TIME TOH actually manages this is Lilith. She recognizes that cursing her sister was wrong. She recognizes that her attempts to be the most powerful person on the Isles was wrong. As such, her betrayal of Belos is NOT her redemption. If she chose to betray Belos because she personal gain in it or saw that it was a dead end in life, it would not be redeeming (this will come up later). Instead, she is truly redeemed because she gives up potentially everything but especially her ability to be above others and her sister by taking the curse unto herself. By sharing that burden she was responsible for first and acknowledging that what she did, specifically, was wrong.

People don't champion Lilith though as some great redemption, do they? Not when it comes to TOH. She's overshadowed by the ones given more of a to do like Hunter, Amity and The Collector. Especially those first two though. So, how do they manage?

Amity has crimes. She bullied Willow when she did not have to as Odalia's demand was ONLY to stop being friends with her. She bullied Willow regardless. She attempted to murder Luz. She tried to remove Luz's ability to use magic and was overall just a general bitch who was more than happy to keep taunting Luz for entertainment. She is genuinely a fucking AWFUL human being at the beginning of the series. Does she even bother recognizing this?

No. Not with more than words. That's all Willow gets. In fact, Amity is so disinterested in making up for being a bitch to Willow that she ignores EVERYTHING about her for almost an entire season after they 'make up' which they only make up with words. Amity just says the right thing and seems to think that's all it takes. She still uses Willow for her own selfish needs in Falls and Follies and she doesn't respect Willow during Labyrinth Runners. She does literally nothing to actually redeem herself for this.

How about refuting Boscha or her mom? Those are pretty big deals and against her old self, right? Well, yes and no but we need to interrogate the why for that. To the audience, it is meant to signify Amity giving up her past influences to be a better person. As I stated at the top, it is a common trope in redemption arcs which TOH does engage with. However... She's doing them for Luz and not because of the past. She tells Boscha to go fuck herself not because Amity was a grade A bitch with Boscha but because Boscha is now bullying someone she cares about so she can dropped just as fast and brutally as she did Willow in the past for the sake of pleasing someone else. NOTHING about her behavior is different except now she's doing it for someone as good. That's not redemption. We don't praise the Punisher here just because he murders bad men. Odalia is similar. It's not to make up for Odalia's influence or the things she did because of Odalia, it is to selfishly proclaim her own personhood... And more importantly, save her girlfriend. It's not even to make up for the expulsion, it's JUST to keep Luz alive. Yes, she gets them unexpelled but only once she first acts for the sake of Luz not dying. She has NO INTEREST in getting involved until then and at that point, it's not her crime, it's Odalia's. That's what makes her motivation being Luz not work because the motivation might be Luz, but the result isn't her facing her past, it's just facing a cartoonish villain.

And if your argument is "Well, all she did was because of Odalia," I would respond with, "Okay, that not a redemption then, that's just a regular character arc." If your character does not actually try to IN UNIVERSE redeem themselves, how can you call it a redemption arc? Sasha is ready to DIE for all of Wartwood to make up for the fact that they're gonna get wiped off the face of the map because of her. She acknowledges that she was wrong and always wrong and goes out to do something about that. She gives up command to Anne in order to try avoid her old mistakes because she is so actively trying to do better than she used to. Redemption is never easy and requires shit like this. The best way to do it fast is, well... Death.

This is why the heroic sacrifice trope is so beloved for redeemed villains. They go from spending an entire life causing misery and being selfish to making the ultimate sacrifice against that which they stood for. In one moment, they seek that redemption... But expect no reward which only further bolsters how this is redemption. Redemption is selfless. You never HAVE to redeem yourself. You never expect a prize or even a better life from redeeming yourself besides being able to sleep better at night. It's a powerful trope...

And Hunter's version of it is literally the worst example I can think of for the trope. Yes, we technically get him rescuing the Emerald Entrails before this as a moment of redemption but what about just redeeming his time under Belos and as the Golden Guard? Well... Essentially no one even gets more than a token apology for that. He just sob stories his way into people's hearts instead of actually do anything to earn their affection outside of Willow KIND OF. But hey, that should be fine since he does sacrifice his own life, right?

Well, again, context. What does he sacrifice for? Because it's not anyone other than him. Just listen to literally the words he's saying. He talks about how much better his life is now. How much he likes the perks of being a good guy like friends. He barely remembers to include that stopping Belos needs to be a part of this without him just looking like a mooch of a friend because he never mentions how it feels good to help people, how he hates what he did with the Emperor or even that he believes more in self expression now. It's ENTIRELY selfish. He doesn't even expect to die, he's just telling Belos to go fuck himself and ends up dying in the process, which is actually pretty normal for a selfish henchman betrayal it's just that the show doesn't realize that's what he's doing.

This is indicative of the show's approach to redemption as a whole and we even get a thesis statement on that. The Collector. If you just say you're sorry and are on the correct side, you're redeemed! Making up for all the damage you did when you absolutely can fix it in like a week? Actually putting yourself up for punishment by those who's autonomy you took away and then tortured? Fucking ANYTHING besides unpuppeting people that he did for months to terrorize the entire Isles? No. He said he's sorry and he's just a goofy little guy so he's redeemed! Right?... Right?

And then the Collector takes this very basic idea of redemption, of just needing to show a bit of kindness and people will magically change, and applies it to Belos. For only the second time, in the whole series, does it not work. The problem with saying that means the show understands this topic and has nuance is... The other example is Kikimora. Neither of these characters are people. They caricatures of villains. They're so pure evil that the idea of redeeming them is, well... A joke. Literally, in the show, the attempt to redeem Belos is a joke. Why would you think the baby eating psycopath was just going to need a hug? That is the level of cartoon villain we are dealing. That's not nuance, it's bullshit, which is why it has never functioned as a critique of SU like it clearly is, especially not when the person who does it JUST NEEDED A FEW KIND WORDS. Like the Collector literally IS just the arc they describe and then try to mock and never even blinks at this fact.

But we call these redemption arcs because they were tokenly villains before hand. I would at this point argue that we need to stop doing that. If we think TOH even purports the concept of redemption, that implies you can learn how to write redemption through TOH. You can't. Bluntly, you cannot because it barely ever tries and when it fails, it fails miserably.

The Diamonds at least promised, and kept their word, to undo their damages. I don't think you get to mock that with your redemptions when you can't even manage that much 75% of the time. See you next tale.

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