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obliviouscxnt · 1 year ago

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Home Azriel x Reader

a/n: forewarning I'm a firm believer in things getting worse before they get better. I hope you enjoy!:)))

synopsis: azriel has to resort to desperate measures in order to ensure your safety

Warnings: SA, depictions of RAPE, angst, violence, minor fluff

5.3k words

pt.1 | pt.2

The feeling was unshakable, those hands grabbing you, forcing you into the darkness. The freezing cold void of absolutely nothing and everything all at once.

It’d been a day since the incident, the bruises and scratches on your body were already healing, getting better by the second.

You hadn’t felt anything since then, no presence in the corner of your mind, no eyes on you, just silence.

You didn’t know why its absence brought you no comfort. Why it made you feel worse. Like your body was trying to warn you about something your mind hadn’t caught up with yet.

However, that was the last thing you wanted to think about as you lay beside Azriel’s form. Listening to his soft heartbeat. Letting the rhythm soothe you into a state of calm.

You were so tired, you just needed a little bit of sleep, to rejuvenate your brain. And if you had any hope of avoiding that nightmare you had to keep it far out of your thoughts. Distract your mind with other things. Conjure a nice dream for yourself. A dream about you and the shadowsinger.

A dream where the two of you could just exist together. With no worries, no foreboding feelings in your hearts, just you and him, and your family, and happiness.

Slowly that disturbed twisting feeling of unease faded away, and you closed your eyes. Ready for sleep to take you away.

Then it rushed you.

Darting out from whatever crevice it had been lurking in. Invading your mind, taking hold of your senses.

It tore apart your dream, cracked open your fabrication, and sent a shockwave through your system. It felt like the magic under your skin flinched.

You gasp, eyes snapping open as you sit up.

You feel Azriel’s hands on your shoulders, then you see his face in front of yours. Hazel eyes darkened with worry.

It had been hiding from you, waiting for you to let your guard down. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to grab you and pull you into its never-ending darkness.

It snapped your dream world in half.

You shiver.

“I don’t know what to do.” You confess to him. “It’s like it has a mind of its own.”

Azriel’s hands grip you tighter and pull you into his chest. His wings cocooning you. “We’ll go see the sisters first thing in the morning. You can give it back to Elaine. Let her deal with it.”

You swallow. Knowing that wasn’t an option. It would destroy her. And in turn, destroy Feyre.

He reads your face. “You think you need to keep it? That because of your abilities you have some obligation to? You don’t. What if your abilities make it worse? At least, with Elaine it can’t take form.”

You don’t voice your thoughts, you can’t fight with him.

You don’t say that it would eat the newly turned Fae alive in her fragile state. Pick away at her mind until there was nothing left. That you at least had a fighting chance against it, even if you hadn’t quite figured that part out yet.

But you don’t need to say anything, not when he could see it all in your eyes. The shadowsinger sighed, so frustrated, so powerless, he wanted to do so much more, wanted to ease your stress, but he didn’t know how other than by being with you. Offering you his support.

It didn’t feel like nearly enough.

He held you the rest of the night.

*****

You’d abandoned sleep. Until you could find a way to counter this thing, to keep it caged, you would stay awake.

You were very experienced in nightmares, probably the most experienced. You could manifest the perfect nightmare for any person, reduce the finest warrior into a sniveling coward at your feet. But you’d never taken somebody's nightmare before. Never had to hide from someone else’s fears.

Even if you wanted to give it back to Elaine, you wouldn’t know the first thing to do. It was very different than twisting someone’s fears.

So for the past week, you’d been doing research. Re-reading those books from Helion, scouring the library for anything else that mentioned dreams, nightmares, or the subconscious. When your brain needed a break from words you trained your body. Joining Cassian from time to time.

The training backfired miserably, making you more tired, body aching with fatigue every hour, minute, and second of the day.

But you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t go in that cauldron again. Not when it could hold you there. Keep you from waking. And even though Rhys had started sleeping at the House of Wind to ensure that you wouldn’t be trapped, you couldn’t risk it.

You didn’t know if it would continue to attack you, like normal nightmares did, you had no way of knowing what its next move would be. It didn’t act like anything you’d encountered before.

It could attack someone else next time, attack Azriel.

That thought alone was enough to keep you awake for the past week.

But with each passing day, keeping your eyes open got harder and harder.

“You can’t let this continue.”

Azriel hadn’t even noticed his brother’s presence. You’d taken all of his focus, diminished the spymaster to a man who couldn’t even hear Cassian’s footsteps. Which were not at all quiet.

The two Illyrians watch you from the library doorway. You sat with a multitude of books scattered around you, the one you were currently reading almost wider than the length of your hand and you were already halfway through. They watch your eyelids slowly fall, watch you try to fight it by blinking rapidly and shaking your head.

Azriel was in full agreement with Cassian. This couldn’t go on.

Azriel feels hopeful when your eyes finally close, you’re head falling back against the sofa cushion. He holds his breath as he waits for you to sink deeper into sleep, not daring to make a sound in fear of startling you awake. But you shoot up a moment later.

Eyes flying open as you grab the couch like you had to catch yourself from falling. Head snapping to and fro as you frantically search for something that isn’t there. Harshly rubbing the sleep from your eyes over and over, but it only makes your eyes burn with a fire that could only be sated by letting them shut.

In a moment of desperation, you grip your wrist, letting the sharp claws dig into your arm. Repressing the sleep in your system with pain.

Your hand is snatched away.

“Stop!” Azriel yells panicked. Watching as blood began to drip down your arm. “Fuck. Cassian can you-“

His brother was already handing him a first aid kit.

The sounds of shaky breaths and ruffling bandages fill the room. You don’t look at him as he wraps your arm, so mortified, so embarrassed he had to see you this way. That anyone could see you this way. So weak.

He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He’s not rough, but he’s not gentle either. So much emotion filled his face.

So much worry, and love, and sadness.

Then his eyes harden. “You need to sleep.” You try to shake your head but can't with his grip on you. “It’s not a suggestion.”

Tears fill your eyes. No. You can’t. Not when you knew it was salivating at the thought. If it managed to kill you in your sleep, only the Gods knew what could happen. If that horror would be unleashed on the world.

You couldn’t risk it. You wouldn’t.

At first, the shadowsinger was torn on what to do. He couldn’t bear the thought of ordering you to suffer. Still can’t. But you were suffering anyway. He couldn’t watch you deteriorate anymore.

He would sacrifice your trust in him if it meant you were healthy.

*****

Dinner was quiet, Rhys and Amren were busy. So that left you, Azriel, Mor, and Cassian. The Acheron sisters ate in their rooms and kept to themselves, though you had seen the older sister a few times. She joined you in the library every once in a while. She never spoke, never looked your way, but she stayed.

“You look like shit.” Mor had said when she saw you, slapping a hand over her mouth as if realizing she spoke aloud. Leave it to Mor to speak the truth.

“Gee, thanks.” You replied, wanting to send her a smile to let her know you didn’t take it to heart but could only find the energy to slide ungracefully into the chair next to her.

Mor turns to you, forgetting her full plate of food. “Gods, look at you!” You tense as she reaches for your face, fingers brushing the bags under her eyes. Her touch made sleep slowly enter your system again. “Why are you doing this to yourself?” She asks as if she didn’t know the answer to that question. Which she most certainly did.

You don’t have it in you to say anything so instead you start shoveling the tasteless food in your mouth. Forcing yourself to swallow it even though it felt like you were chewing chalk.

“You know we’re here for you, don’t you?” She continued, and the food became increasingly hard to swallow with every word she spoke. “You don’t have to fight this alone, it wasn’t even your battle to begin with.”

Your heart drops at her words. Not your battle?

That’s right, this all started with your selfish need to feel useful. So you wouldn’t have to lay around like a weakling. All you did was make everything worse. Of course, you did.

You reach for your water when you feel the food start to rise back up. The water doesn’t help. Your whole body starts to feel clammy, and your head starts to spin.

So you pause leaning back to take a few slow deep breaths through your nose, swallowing the spit that didn’t stop gathering in your mouth.

“Feyre would hate to see you like this.”

Those words were the final blow.

You jump from your seat, hand on your mouth as you dash out of the dining room. Running for the nearest bin, the house seemed to hear your inner pleas because a bucket was waiting for you in the hallway. You fell to your knees in front of it. Too busy hurling up all the food you just ate to cry out at the pain of your kneecaps slamming into the stone floor.

You feel his warm gentle hands on you. Softly rubbing your back, and pulling away your hair. Waiting patiently for you to finish heaving.

When you could breathe without gagging you leaned into him, letting him wipe your face with his sleeve. Ruining the fine shirt he wore. “Can you call Madja? Tell her I need another tonic?”

The little shots of energy that’d kept you standing the last two days, were all you could think of. You needed them before it was too late. Before a week's worth of sleep could catch up on you.

Before that thing was free to roam.

Azriel looks to Cassian, expression grim, and he nods. The general was rushing off the next second. You hope he’s getting Madja.

A moment later Cassian was running back over and crouching beside you, pushing a glass of water in your hands. You wanted to protest, remembering how the water hadn’t helped just moments before, but Azriel takes the cup and puts it to your lips.

“Drink.” You comply. He tilts the cup up and up and up until you drink the final drop. “There you go.” He whispers, setting the cup aside so both of his hands are free to soothe over your body. “That’s it.”

The effect was swift.

That magic that was always writhing under your skin begins to slow. It’s vibrating energy dying out. Until it wasn't even a tingle.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, and your heart dropped. What did he do?

Your head becomes foggy, and your body is no longer your own. You can’t fight it as you slump back, can’t do a single thing when your eyes fall shut, can’t even think as your brain powers off.

All you could do was sleep.

Azriel holds you close to him, lip curling at the smell of your fear permeating through the air. “I’m sorry.” He whispered again, though he knew you couldn’t hear him now.

“It will work,” Mor said from where she leaned against the wall, watching you with a solemn look on her face. She, along with everyone else in the inner circle, was on board with the idea the moment Madja brought it up earlier in the week.

“It better.” He was reluctant until today, until he watched you hurt yourself. The fact that you couldn’t keep your food down was the cherry topper.

Azriel just hoped the Faebane in your system would last longer than the sleeping tonic.

The drug succeeded in quelling your magic, succeeded in its purpose of ridding your mind of that awful thing. But it also succeeded in other things.

Without your magic, you were unable to conjure a happy dream for yourself.

Leaving you trapped in your very own nightmare.

*****

Your mother smiled with pride as she adjusted your hair. “Every male will want you.” Your whole life had led up to this moment, everything you had been taught was for this night. The night a male would choose you.

The night you would submit.

So why weren’t you excited?

“Stop that frowning. It’s unsightly.” Your mother leads you to a mirror. A pressure settles on your chest when you look at yourself.

The sheer white gown did nothing to hide your body. Giving anyone who looked a full view of what was underneath. Your face was painted, your skin shaved and silky—glowing from whatever substance she’d lathered on you—and your wings were spread wide, fluttering at a pace that made every intricate design viewable.

Your mother looked the happiest you’d ever seen her. The expression uncanny on her. “They won’t be able to keep their hands off you.”

You felt something inside you twist at the thought.

“Mother?” You say before you can think better of it. She meets your eyes through the mirror. She looked at you like you were a trophy, an object to be displayed not loved. Not that you ever knew the difference.

I don’t want to do this.

The words were right there. At the forefront of your mind. All you had to do was give them a voice.

But it was like your lips were wired shut. Your mouth doesn’t move, your voice doesn’t work. You say nothing.

It wouldn’t have mattered if you had anyway. You didn’t have a choice, you never did. “Don’t worry, child, none of the others can compare with your beauty. You will not be left unpicked.”

Her words brought you no solace.

You hold your chin high, as she leads you out of the hut and toward the growing horde. You make sure you stand straight, shoulders squared like you had been taught. Make sure your hips swayed just slightly, just enough to keep their attention like your mother had shown you.

Make sure your teeth don’t grit, and your legs don’t shake. Make sure your wings don’t twitch, and your smile doesn’t fall.

Your mother parades you around for every male to see. Laughing at some of the comments they made, insinuating banter between the rowdy ones, reveling in the way they fought over you.

With each laugh, each yell, each claim made upon you that pressure in your chest grew. Except it wasn’t just in your chest now, it was in your stomach, and in your head, and under your skin.

Your wings folded subconsciously, making your mother sink her sharp claws into your wrist. Not enough to bleed, she wouldn’t ruin all her work, but enough to hurt. Enough to make your wings snap back open.

Is this really it?

The feeling gets worse when she leads you toward the other women, and then it doubles when she leaves to sit with the onlookers. Not so much as a goodbye, or even a second glance as she walks away.

Your heart pounds as you blend yourself in with the sea of white.

Maneuvering through the women was easy, each and every one of them was silent, tense, and scared. You try not to look at their faces for too long, didn’t want to be able to notice which ones were missing once everything was over.

It wasn’t uncommon for males to lose themselves to the night, last year seven woman were found dead. Brutalized.

You swallow, heart beating so loud, so fast, it’s all you can hear. It drowns everything out.

I don’t want to do this.

You don’t hear the horn blow. You only know it did when everyone around you began heading through the woodline. You almost trip over yourself as you dash forward. You had to run. You had to hide before the second horn blew. You had to make it till dawn.

Your bare feet don’t feel the sharp rocks and sticks that stab into them. Adrenaline fills your body, pumping through your blood, and muscles. Blocking out the pain.

The shimmering barrier is what makes you come to a stop. You’d never seen them before, the wards that kept your community safe, but there was no denying it. That wall of energy was where your colony ended.

Beyond it, death was inevitable.

There was no hope in flying, male wings are much different from females. Stiffer, sharper, stronger, the males would always be superior in the sky.

So you stay on the ground hiding in a nearby thicket just on the edge of the wards. Arms hugging your knees to your panting chest, making yourself as small as possible.

You hoped nobody would search this far. But you knew the males in your community. They stop at nothing and do anything to get what they want.

When a distant scream echoed through the woods you knew you’d missed the second horn. The males were already hunting.

You hold yourself tighter, trying to force slow breaths in your nose and out of your mouth. Frantically trying to slow down your palpitating heart. But it felt like you weren’t getting air. Your whole body was shivering from the adrenaline, that pressure still building.

You would get found by the sound of your breathing if you kept it up.

“No! Ple-!” Your head snaps in the direction of the scream, much closer than the other one. You try not to think about how it cut off so suddenly, about what could’ve happened to her. What could’ve made her object to a male.

You just need to make it till dawn. Just need to keep hiding. For six more hours.

It was hopeless, there wasn’t nearly enough ground to give the women a fighting chance. The men greatly outnumber the women, making the former even more desperate, even more competitive.

Where was the fun if everyone had a chance at winning?

No, they had to yearn for it. It was what made the Ritual work.

Your head falls to your knees.

You don’t want to end up like your mother.

Three years ago your father had grown tired of her, he participated in that year’s Flowering and never spoke to either of you again. As your mother is far from pure, she can not be used in the ceremonies. Instead, she was made a community whore.

A female for the pent up males who had no luck on Flowering to fuck as they please.

Your mother always said it was necessary. That all the things your people did, there were reasons for.

That Flowering Night was a gift, it provided the magic that grew our blooms. The blooms that supplied our only food source. Nectar.

Of course, you believed her, you’d never known any reason not to. The Middle wasn’t a resourceful place. It was too dangerous to send hunters beyond the wards, and there weren’t even any animals to hunt. Only other monsters. And even they weren’t worth hunting. Bodies usually emaciated with no meat on their bones if any at all.

It was necessary, but that didn’t mean you wanted to do it.

You wouldn’t know until much later that your people were just addicts. That hunting wasn’t an impossible thing, not when they had wings. That they could’ve flown to the Day Court to hunt, or even the Winter Court, but they chose not to. Because nothing could ever compare to their precious Nectar.

Snap.

Your blood runs cold as an older male sniffs around. Fifteen feet from you. His hard wings make a low buzz as they vibrate against each other with frustration.

The male was a brute, muscle stacked upon bulging muscle.

You hold your breath as he slowly gets closer, the buzz becoming louder. If he caught your scent, no amount of shrubbery could keep him from finding you.

He gets closer, and your heart pounds faster. That pressure you feel under your skin now throbbing. Pulsating.

He’s almost ten feet away, if he got any closer he’d undoubtedly smell the fear that left your body in waves.

White dots started filling your vision. You fight with your body to hold it.

A blessing came in the form of a scream, this one even closer than the last. Your throat constricts trying to force air into your system. Your teeth ache from how tightly you clench your jaw.

The male started in that direction. Your throat burned, your head pounding.

Just a second more.

But you couldn’t stop yourself from gasping for air.

The male stops. Then he looks right at you.

You’d never known terror till that moment.

*****WARNING: until the next scene change dark themes will be depicted such as rape and violence, if you do not wish to read proceed to the next “*****”

He pounced, dragging you out of the bushes by the base of your wings. Even though you don’t struggle.

He throws you to the ground, not wasting a second before straddling your thighs. Pinning down your legs. His hands grip the fabric of your gown, tearing it off your shoulder. You want to cover your body, but instead you lay still. Let him run his filthy hands over your breasts, let them squirm their way between your legs.

You let him cause it’s all you’ve ever known.

Even though your mind was screaming.

He is anything but gentle, forcing his way inside, digging around. You can’t stop the cry of pain that leaves you, the tears that fill your eyes, and he moans. Touch becoming rougher, harsher, trying to force another cry from you.

The pain becomes worse when he adds more fingers, shoving his way though.

Like he was trying to rip you open.

His head buries into your shoulder. Sniffing and groaning in your ear. Rutting against you like a wild animal.

Then he bites down, and you scream.

Your hands find his head and that pressure, that jerking energy under your skin devours him.

The male collapses, body twitching on top of you. Teeth still embedded in your shoulder. You're stunned for a moment, but that's quickly replaced with revulsion.

Your arms shake with the effort it takes to roll him off of you. Whimpering when his teeth slowly leave your shoulder.

His hands don't leave you, even though he was now out of reaching distance you could still feel them. Touching, grabbing, digging.

You feel nothing but disgust as you look at the male, watching him mumble, whine, and mewl in his unconscious state. You don’t even get the time to question it, to think about what happened. The heavy footsteps that head your way get closer by the second.

I don’t want to do this.

So you don’t.

For once in your life you disregard all of your teachings. Every rule beaten into you. Each false instinct that’d burrowed into your body. And you run.

Right past the wards.

Because you’d rather die than end up like your mother.

You run and you keep running until your lungs are stabbed with pain, until your legs give out from beneath you, and you crash to the ground.

Your nails dig into the soil as you lay there. To breathe. To think. To cry.

Maybe you could just wait here till dawn. Maybe then you could go back. Nobody would have to know you even left.

But the chill of the crooked woods laugh at you. You hear the sound of old trees creaking in the wind, calling you foolish.

You couldn’t go back, you’d attacked a male. There was nowhere for you now, just death.

Still, there was a senseless part of your brain that hoped this was all a wretched night terror. That any minute now you would wake up to your mom’s voice. And you would be in bed. And Flowering will have already passed. And you wouldn’t have went because your mom knew you didn’t want to. And she wouldn’t have wanted you to go through it either, because of how ruthless the males were. And your life would go on until the next year came around. And maybe then you would be ready. Maybe then you would have accepted it.

The other part of your brain was ready to be done with it all.

“[name]?”

Your breath catches, unsteadily lifting yourself from the ground. You look around, searching for that familiar voice.

“Mother?”

“[name], my child…” You see her. She was completely bare, something you were used to, her beauty a stark contrast to the spindly trees around her. She walks toward you crouching before you, you sob when she rests a soft hand on your cheek. So, so different from how she usually held you. Then she spoke in such a soft voice, a tone you’d never heard leave her mouth. “You looked so beautiful when you were screaming.”

The next moment it felt like you were punched in the shoulder, a heat unlike any other burned your skin. You look down to see a blade sticking out of your chest, a shriveled-up hand attached. Not the smooth skin of your mother.

When you look back into your mother's eyes they were no longer hers. Replaced with a milky white that gleamed in the moonlight. The face no longer female or beautiful. It’s skin was stretched taught over its thin bones.

Then as it spoke again with a smile so wide, teeth so rotted, and breath so pungent you knew what it was.

“Cry for me, child.” It said, sounding like a million different voices at once.

A creature that preyed on the weak, found pleasure in the act of killing. It cannot be reasoned with, its only joy is to watch the life leave someone’s eyes. To watch people die a sad miserable death in the form of the ones they loved the most.

The Mymic.

You scream, and it laughs. You scream louder as it twists the blade inside you and then drags. Ripping each nerve, muscle, and vein as slowly as possible. So you could feel each and every tear.

The creature howled in ecstasy as it tore into you, cutting you open endlessly.

No one would save you, not this time.

Nightmares don’t have happy endings.

“So beautiful…” It sighed pulling the blade out of your chest only to play with the blood that pooled out, finger-painting your white gown red.

*****

He couldn’t stand it, you were so still that Azriel had to keep making sure you were breathing. He holds you against him, unable to keep his hands from wandering, soothing you. Shadows doing the same.

You’d been sleeping for two days straight. Madja kept assuring him and everyone else that you were okay. That it was a good thing, that your body was responding well to the tonic and catching up on the sleep it needed.

The Faebane had cleaned out of your system after the first twenty-four hours. But no Hybern soldiers made any appearance, no evil king, not even a flicker in the fae lights.

His head leans against yours, watching your chest lift up and down. He moves a hand to rest there, watching it rise and fall. Finding comfort in the repetitive motion.

Maybe you weren’t made for him. Maybe the cauldron didn’t deem you mates. Maybe he didn’t care.

Azriel was content to just share something so real with you, so raw.

A bond didn’t make what the two of you had any less intense. He didn’t need to be tethered to you to know what you were feeling. Didn’t need fate to tell him you were the love of his life.

He’d always pick you.

A small sound reaches his ears, he was so worried about you that he’d started having audio hallucinations. But then he heard it again, louder this time, and he knew it wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

Your breathing becomes irregular, another little noise leaving your parted lips. Azriel’s hands rub you soothingly. Waiting patiently for the sleep to fade from your body. Whispering when he could tell you were conscious enough to hear him. “Hey.” He drawls, making sure he's quiet. When you open your gorgeous eyes and look at him his heart stops. “There you are.”

You blink at him. “You drugged me.”

Azriel flinches at the words. Actually flinches. Then he nods.

“My magic… I can feel it now but it was…”

His hand reaches for yours, feeling relief when you let him take it. He runs his thumb over the smooth skin. “Faebane. We got some when Rhys was captured.”

You look down at your free hand, willing a small moth to appear there. Checking that everything was working correctly. The moth flies up toward Azriel but it dissipates before it can get far.

You weren’t mad. Quite the opposite. You’d woken up and found yourself relieved. Relieved to see him there next to you. Relieved to be home.

You weren’t angry because you knew he did it to help not to hurt. Sure, he could’ve gone about it in a different way, maybe presented the idea to you instead of just slipping the drug in your water. But you couldn’t fault him for that either, Azriel was a man of action and few words.

Still that didn’t stop you from asking. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I didn’t even want to agree to it at first. So little is known about your kind, your magic, there was no telling if the Faebane would even effect you. I didn’t want to risk you getting stuck in that nightmare without the ability to heal.”

Your eyes widen at the information. If he’d told you that, nothing would’ve gotten you to agree. But he took that chance? Azriel wasn’t a gambler.

Your face must’ve shown what you were thinking because he continued.

“Then you hurt yourself and I couldn’t take it anymore, [name]. You needed to get better.” He squeezes your hand. “If I have to fight off a living nightmare so you can get a night's sleep, I will.”

“Did you?” You ask, wondering if the male had made an appearance or the Mymic.

Azriel shakes his head. You sigh in relief. Ignoring the way your stomach grumbled with hunger, in no hurry to force down tasteless food. No hurry to leave your male. You lay your head on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” You say, and he shakes his head at you in confused questioning. “For letting it get that far.” For not being strong enough to get a grip.

The shadowsinger holds your head to his chest. “I’m sorry.” He presses his lips against your head, saying the words into your hair. “I wish I knew other ways to help.”

Your hands grip him. Nails clinging to his bare skin. “I missed you.” The worst part about reliving that Nightmare, was that you hadn’t known he existed. That someone so amazing was out there, and capable of loving you.

“I never left.”

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#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you

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depravitycentral · 7 months ago

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I don’t know if this appeals to anyone but me, but I’ve been watching a lot of period pieces about Regency Era England (specifically the 1995 Pride and Prejudice and Bridgerton) and I can’t stop thinking about the way women were actually treated like property, their only purpose to wed and produce children. Imagine the yandere possibilities, and the absolute lack of control you’d have over your fate.

Specifically, I can’t stop thinking about the lack of care and the disregard for social customs and norms yanderes could exhibit in that era. The rules are so very strict, and so very numerous – really, can he be blamed for not adhering to each and every one? Sure, he doesn’t treat any other woman this way, but is it such a crazy notion that he breaks a rule here or there? Surely not – not when it’s so very obvious that the proposal is coming, that he’s absolutely hell bent on keeping you pristine and pretty and pregnant in his own abode, not the pathetic pile of wood and roofing you call your home.

Maybe he’s always been one for attending the local and regional balls – for appearances, yes, but also because there’s nothing more that he loves than being in a room with all sorts of beautiful women and alcohol. Maybe he likes to play the politics game, stringing along every girl he can find so that he gets his pick of wives, so that he can bed any woman he so pleases without as much as a goodbye. Except that once his feelings for you form, his composure crumbles a bit.

He’s standing much, much too close to you throughout the entirety of your dance with him. His hips are tightly pressed against your ass as he follows the 1, 2, 3 of the waltz, the shuddering breath you hear at your ear making your skin crawl.

Maybe he’s insisted on keeping his hand much too low as he guides you through the dance, almost able to feel the hem of your underclothes under the layers of your dress, his fingers eager as he presses them tighter and tighter against you.

He’ll speak to you during the dance, his voice low and whispered and his mouth much too close to your ear, the audible wet sound of him licking his lips seeming louder than the quartet in the corner of the dancefloor.

He’s even asking you to remove your gloves, won’t you? I wouldn’t want to ruin the delicate silk – what would your dear mother think of me? And once they’re off (because really, his tone left very little room for rebuttal), his bare skin is pressing against yours, his palms clammy and sweating and absolutely engulfing yours with the way he keeps grabbing at more more more, wanting to feel every inch of you possible.

And then of course there’s those who aren’t as bold with physicality – no, the mere thought of being any closer to you than society permits is enough to get them hot under the collar, so nervous and flustered that they’re sure they’ll trip over themselves, that they’ll make an absolute fool in front of you. Instead, they resort to more classy measures – that is, it’s a bit jarring when they quickly approach you the moment you’ve entered the ballroom, swallowing harshly and asking in a voice that’s just a hair too high-pitched if they could perhaps have the honor of claiming your first dance this evening?

You can’t exactly say no – and even as you watch him eagerly scribble his name down on the first dance slot, then the second, then the third and fifth and tenth, what can you really say? He’s wealthier than your family, and your mother watches from the corner with a glint in her eye because oh, isn’t this just such an advantageous match?

Even the grouches who only attended the ball in which they met you upon a friend’s request act out in unexpected ways. They seem distracted, clutching onto their lemonade glass with a grip tight enough to turn their knuckles white, their shoulders visibly tense as their eyes scan the room over and over. They’re looking for you, of course. Mentally guessing at what colors you’d be donning this evening, how your hair is styled, what sorts of jewels and precious jewelry sits so prettily in the hollow of your throat or dangles against the sensitive skin of the juncture of your neck and jaw.

And once they've found you, they may not have the courage to speak with you or dance with you. But suddenly you've gained a permanent shadow for the evening. Where you go, he goes. He’s following you a good five feet behind, snaking around fellow attendees and keeping his eyes locked on your figure, biting his lip as he mentally notes who’s eye you’re catching, who’s speaking with you, who’s approaching you with a request to dance.

He’s standing directly behind you as you dance with some low-level baron, some insignificant man who can’t hold a candle to the riches, comfort and adoration that he can give you. And he's just staring, too – eyes like daggers as he watches the interaction, letting the anger simmer and fester until he finally, finally approaches you, his voice gruff and choppy as he compliments your dress (something like this dress is much more handsome than the last one you wore) and practically demands your next dance. Yes, it’s awkward, and yes, he leads far, far too much.

But really, the truly terrible thing to think about is what happens after the ball – when they call upon you in the sanctity of your own home, all sorts of love declarations falling from their lips that are much too hyper specific and draw upon knowledge you know you’ve never shared with him. But you must be kind; he’s of higher rank, after all, in a position where a few bad words could ruin your family forever.

It’s just that when he drops to one knee and proposes, it’s difficult to remember your delicate position because he’s managed to find the ring of your dreams, and he’s going on about how he’s had your bedchamber already decorated to fit all your tastes, how he has a wardrobe full of new dresses he’s had custom-fit to you, how he’s already decided that you’re to have a son first, but then all daughters and you’ll name them James, Eleanor, Kathryn, Marta…

And as he embraces you, the hug either much too tight or much too stiff, it’ll feel like a cage locking into place around you. Because really, what can you do? If you try to fight him, he has the wealth and connections to force your family into consenting. And even if your parents refuse to hand you off to a man you clearly despise and fear, it’s not so difficult to spread the rumors about your purity, to claim that he’d witnessed a servant passionately embracing you, that he’d seen you naked in the arms of some butcher’s boy…

It’s your word against his, and oh, isn’t he so kind for still having you after your reputation’s been destroyed? Isn’t he so dreamy and chivalrous for saving you from a life of destitution and outcast? Even if he’s the one to blame for that life in the first place?

And he’ll be so good to you, he promises. He’ll explain each and every aspect of the wedding night, of the consummation of a marriage, showing you exactly how deeply he’s been desiring you, how long he’s been craving you, how many times he’s fucked his fist and been thinking of you you you in those tempting dresses you wear, of those hips that you sway and move like a fucking minx at every dance you attend…

He’ll leave you wanting for nothing – aside from perhaps your freedom, and perhaps your sanity. But he’s sure you’ll learn to love him.

You must, after all.

Specifically the image of a few characters in the traditional regency dress is making me feral - imagine Aizawa, who's known as the reclusive Duke of the area, his public appearances next to none and his temperament difficult to handle. But alas, what's this? A few snarky comments from you - also standing against the ballroom's wall - about the ridiculousness of women's fashion and the discomfort of dancing in heels has him chuckling a bit, your obvious lack of knowledge of his position making him feel oddly seen. And when you find yourself falling into his company at the next ball he's forced to attend, Aizawa decides there's something particularly agreeable about your smile - finding himself wanting to know if your lips taste as good as they look. And when he loses his composure and blurts these words out, don't expect him to cut off contact with you - instead, he'll immediately speak with your father, requesting your hand in marriage and hoping that in time you might learn to forgive his dismissal of your opinion. Perhaps a child would help distract you, yes?

Imagine Rengoku, who's introduced to you by the ball's hostess, Shinobu. Imagine Rengoku, who immediately dances with you and keeps returning to fill up your dance card, that smile blinding as he spends the evening on the dancefloor by your side. Imagine Rengoku, who calls upon you everyday after first meeting you, his visits growing in frequency - sometimes multiple a day - and duration as the weeks drag on. Imagine the way he'll end each visit by grasping your hand in his and giving it a much-too-long kiss, assuring you that it's only taking this long for him to propose to and wed you because he's having an entirely new manor built - one he thinks you'll like a bit more. Nevermind that you don't wish him to continue his visits or leave you alone - do you like floral or patterned wallpapers more?

Imagine Akaashi, who's every woman's dream for both his looks and status. Imagine the way he holds you so delicately as he twirls you, those steel eyes of his practically cutting into you, his mid-dance questions starting off simple and innocent and slowly morphing into something that feels like an interrogation, something that feels too intimate and demanding and strange. Imagine the way he grasps onto your wrist - still gently but firm enough to eliminate your escape - as he guides you towards the refreshments table, insisting that you absolutely must drink something because he's noticed you haven't drunk anything since you arrived nearly an hour ago. But don't mention the fact that you didn't meet until roughly twenty minutes ago - long after you'd walked through the front doors.

Imagine Chrollo, who manages to charm his way into getting you alone with him on the balcony, those dark eyes smoldering as he compliments you. There's something stiff and rehearsed about it, and as you snort and ask him how many women he seduces in a night's work, something clicks in his brain. Imagine the way he doesn't leave your side for an instant after that, glued to your hip and seamlessly managing to evade each and every potential suitor from approaching you. Imagine the way he begins inviting you for long stays at his rather luxurious home, conveniently placing your bedchambers beside his own, spending night after night with his ear pressed against your shared wall and biting his lip as he fists his cock to the sound of you humming to yourself and washing your face with the pale of lukewarm water he'd used first then had the servants bring to you.

#_lee rambles #yandere hxh #yandere haikyuu #yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere kny #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere demon slayer #_hxh #_kny #_haikyuu #_bnha #_lee's regency au

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merlincmgirl · 1 month ago

Text

Threesome - Wrecker x FReader x Crosshair - NSFW

Summary: Wrecker and Crosshair love to get you alone away from the rest of their brothers.

Characters: Wrecker, Crosshair, Hunter, Echo, Tech and Omega

Pairing: Wrecker x F!Reader x Crosshair (NO clonecest)

Word Count: 8,961

Warnings: oral (male & female receiving), riding, PinV sex, Anal Sex, vaginal & anal fingering, dirty talk, fluff and smut, s-word (said only once by Cross), nipple play, double penetration.

Author's Note: This took me so long to write, my writer's block just would not leave me. I hope you all like it, I'm definitely still writing for the others in Kinktober, I know I am very late. But after focusing on my health, it's left me with little time to write.

“It’s not fair, how come Wrecker and Crosshair gets to stay behind with you” Omega complained, hanging off the back of the flight chair, as you attempted to appear exhausted and in pain.

“Sorry, Omega, I guess they drew the short straw” you apologised, genuinely feeling sorry for the young girl. But it had been nearly 27 days since the last time you had gotten any kind of intimacy with your partners. You were going to do anything it takes at this point to get them alone.

“But Wrecker and I normally buy sweets for the way back to the ship” she pouted, sighing heavily as she rested her head on the seat.

“I know Omega, how about you bring him some back for when we’re ready to head off. I’m sure he’d love that” you suggested, squeezing her shoulder as you crouched down in front of her. Making sure that you were looking at her from her height, you took her smaller hand in yours and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I also have an important job for you as well, do you think you can do that, Omega?” you told her, watching as she stood up straight and looked at you eagerly.

“I can do that!” she assured, stepping closer to you.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I need to get some Kashyyyk nuts from the market. My mother used to give them to me as a snack when I wasn’t feeling well. Do you think you can get them for me?” you asked her, smiling at the way her eyes widened in surprise. You didn’t really talk much about your family, and she had never had a typical family, so she was always eager to know more about you.

“Of course! I’ll find them for you, I promise. I’m going to tell Hunter about my mission!” Omega swore, face going stern and determined before she raced off down the ramp to where Hunter and Wrecker was unloading crates from the ship. Hunter looked up at you, obviously catching your conversation, raised an eyebrow and shook his head, turning back to listen to what Omega was telling him.

“That was cruel, sending her out to get something that you know she’ll never be able to find on this planet. Kashyyyk doesn’t export here” a voice from the cockpit stated, and you turned to see Echo leaning against the door.

“Only a little, it’ll wear her out for you while you’re gathering supplies” you agreed, wincing at the lie that you had told the young girl. “Besides, if her brothers would let me, Wrecker, and Crosshair have some alone time together, then I wouldn’t have to resort to such desperate measures” you said pointedly, tapping his chest plate as he passed you to the ramp.

“You have plenty of alone time in the bunks, we can all hear you” Echo grimaced, remembering all the times he had woken up to the sounds of pleasure before he had stuffed his pillow over his head.

Flushing, you couldn’t help but admit he was right about that. “It’s not the same though. Besides, Hunter said it was fine that they stay here” you shrugged, remembering that conversation. It had been embarrassing for the both of you.

“Partly so that he doesn’t have to deal with Crosshair’s increasingly irritating behaviour” Tech grumbled, coming out the bunks with said trooper in tow. Tech was going through the inventory that they already had, creating a list of everything they needed to get.

However your eyes fell on his brother behind him, dressed in only his blacks, a toothpick rolling in his mouth. His eyes met yours and they softened, losing that annoyance that was present in them more and more as the days dragged on.

As soon as you were in reaching distance, he wrapped his arm around your waist and tugged you into him, burying his face into your hair. “Hey kitten” he greeted quietly, keeping you as close to him as possible.

“Hey Cross” you smiled, leaning into him and taking in his soothing scent. He must have freshly showered, the smell of his body wash and shampoo was extra strong today. No wonder Hunter was off the ship.

“Please do not engage in sexual intercourse on my desk or my bunk. There are a number of delicate projects that I do not want you breaking” Tech interrupted, looking between you two but focusing his scowl on Crosshair.

“It was worth it, you should have seen the way she-” Cross smirked, squeezing your hips and watching as both Echo and Tech looked disgusted at that.

“Cross!” you hissed, slamming a hand over his mouth before he could finish that sentence. They didn’t want to know, and you certainly didn’t want them knowing.

However, you were thankfully rescued from the mortifying situation.

“Alright, we’re ready to head out. Do you need anything else while we’re gone?” Hunter announced, coming up the ramp with Wrecker and Omega behind him.

“Nothing that you can provide” Crosshair sneered, his voice dripping with annoyance that they were still here. There was a lot of snickers from his brothers and Wrecker full out laughed at that. Noticing Omega’s confused look between everyone, you subtly shoved your elbow into his ribs.

“Why? What are you going to need when we’re gone? Are you really sick?” Omega questioned, turning her concerned and confused eyes onto you.

Pushing Cross away from you so you could comfort his sister, you shook your head and gave her a warm hug. “I’m okay, Omega, I promise. Nothing that a bit of bed rest and some snacks won’t fix. I’m just feeling a bit under the weather today, Cross and Wrecker was kind enough to keep me company and help” you assured, pulling away from her to see her acceptance of your words.

“Well, now that’s sorted, we’d best be going if we want to be back before dark” Echo decided, ushering Omega and Tech down the ramp and off the ship, a hand on Omega’s shoulder and scomp on Tech’s.

“Alright, keep your comms on. I mean it this time, we won’t call, and you better not call us unless you want to scar our baby sister. But just in case, keep them on” Hunter ordered the three remaining members of his squad, looking between you all.

“Will do! Have fun!” Wrecker called, pulling you into his arms and pressing a kiss to your temple. You couldn’t help but smile, leaning back into his wonderful embrace.

Hunter stopped just before the gangway, looking back with a narrowed eyed look. “And I want this ship thoroughly cleaned before we come back!” he demanded, voice stern and full of the Sergeant tone that he used while on the battlefield.

“Yes, Sarge!” you promised, hoping he would at least believe you. It was probably an awful smell to come back to. Your brothers fucking their girlfriend over the ship and not being able to air out the ship enough for it to go before take off.

Hunter’s lips twitched into a fond smile before giving you a lazy salute and headed off to catch up with the others.

“Finally!” Crosshair growled, hand clutching at the nape of your neck and bringing you in for a rough kiss. His lips pressed against yours, grazing his teeth along your bottom lip before licking it soothingly as he pulled away.

Giggling, you turned back to Wrecker, standing on your tip toes to kiss him as well.

Wrecker let out a chuckle, wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you up, closing the distance between you as you cupped his face, deepening the kiss now that you were the same height. “Feels so good to be holding you like this, mesh’la” Wrecker’s deep, soothing voice murmured. You could feel the vibrations echo form his chest to yours from how tight you were pressed against him.

“Me too! It’s been way too long since we’ve been able to do this” you agreed, pressing your lips to his once more. He ran a hand up your spine, following the contours of your body before threading his fingers through your hair and holding you in place as his lips explored yours.

“Never thought that after a kid our sex lives would dwindle so much” Crosshair grumbled, his dark eyes observing every move you and Wrecker made with each other.

Wrecker leaned forward and whacked him in the shoulder, sending the lithe clone jolting forward. “Cut it out! You love Omega just as much as the rest of us!” Wrecker objected, shaking his head at his brother.

“Maybe even more” you added, smirk playing on your lip. Crosshair was definitely the worse one when it came to looking after Omega, he was so protective and considerate of her. Cross had been right, he was certainly worse than Hunter. “But I can’t deny that it’s been a long time since we’ve managed to get alone time. Not that I’m complaining, that little girl is worth it” you grinned, as Wrecker put you back down on the floor.

Crosshair hummed, pulling you back into him so that his chest was pressed against your back. He refused to dignify that statement with an answer. It was well known that Crosshair worried about Omega more than Hunter did, loved her just as fiercely, but he wasn’t going to admit it out loud. Not even to his lover and brother.

Sighing softly at the feel of his warmth seeping into your back, you leaned heavily against him, turning to nuzzle at his jaw. Smiling, you felt the sharp shooter relax, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. One hand slid up your loose top, his lithe fingers drawing small patterns on your stomach and hips. Grinning, you struggled not to move under his tickling touch, but you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped you.

“You’re wearing too many clothes” his raspy voice caressed your ear and you rolled your eyes, sending a smile towards Wrecker at Crosshair’s words.

“Oh am I?” you drawled, spinning around in his arms to tug on his own shirt, “I’m wearing just as much as you.”

“She’s got you there, vod!” Wrecker agreed, hands landing on your shoulders and sliding down your back before trailing back up, beginning to massage your shoulders.

Letting out a sigh, you couldn’t help but appreciate Wrecker’s firm but relaxing touch. It had been a while since you had last had a massage and you could feel the tension bleed out of you. His thumb pressed against a particular large knot in your shoulder blade and you let out a groan, resting your head on Cross’ chest.

“Hmm, you’re so good at this Wrecker. Going to leave me in a puddle before we even start” you murmured, playing with the buttons of Cross’ shirt. You began to work them loose, exposing more of his skin to you. His body wasn’t as scarred at the others, due to the nature of his role on the squad as the sniper, but there was a particular one from a well aimed shot that always caught your attention. It was just below his left pec, a shot had glanced off his ribs luckily, but if it had been a few more inches to the right, it would have killed him. So you always laid a kiss to the scar, thanking the stars and whatever Gods or Goddesses out there that he had survived.

Crosshair grunted, cheeks heating at your attention to his scar, glad that you couldn’t see his face. It always sent warmth flooding through his body at your gentle kisses and sweet touches to the parts that many would find unattractive. He had asked you once why you did it, why you paid so much attention to the scars that littered both his and Wrecker’s body. He still remembers the sad look that had crossed your face, as you admitted that they were a reminder that they were here with you, that the universe had decided to save him and his brother for you. That night, none of you had gotten any sleep.

“We’re wasting time” Cross grumbled, pushing you away slightly so he could begin working on the clothes that kept your beautiful body away from their gazes.

“You’re in a hurry!” Wrecker teased, as his large hands landed on your waist and began to unbuckle your trousers, sliding them down your hips.

“Why am I the only one getting undressed here?!” you laughed, shimmying in Wrecker’s hands out of your trousers and kicking them away from you. Turning around, you raised an eyebrow at Wrecker and tugged on the top half of his civvie clothes. “Strip!” you ordered him, voice firm but playful.

“Yes ma’am” he saluted, hurrying to pull off his top.

You turned to Crosshair, already seeing him shrug off his shirt. Perfect, this was exactly what you wanted. Your two perfect lovers, displaying themselves for you after so long. Your lustful eyes ran over them, taking in the scars that dotted and speckled their tanned skins.

Wrecker was large, his size dwarfing you, but he always made you feel so safe. His large arms were thicker than your face, but they could pick you up and hold you close to him whenever you weren’t feeling too good or whenever you just wanted to be held by the loveable giant. His scar on the left side of his face ran down his neck and across his shoulders. It was something he was very mindful of, especially with the scar being so prominent on his face, but you loved it, reassuring him over and over that he was handsome, that you loved him and that he should be proud of how far he had come since the blast that had taken his eye and damaged his hearing. He was more than just his injury.

Crosshair was always a treat to watch as he revealed himself for you. His long, slender body was so wonderful to be pressed against. All the batch was different shapes and sizes, but Crosshair was beautiful. He had the grace and fluidity of a dancer, able to move quickly and efficiently without worrying if he was going to hit a shot. His broad shoulders and large arms weren’t as big as Wrecker’s – not many people could be – but they were just as wonderful to hold onto. They were so strong as well, capable of picking you up and hoisting you around. Carrying around his sniper gun and keeping still for hours at a time had done wonders for Cross’ body. And his eyes were so expressive, his face may be as blank as a sheet of flimsi but his eyes told everyone what he was really thinking. At least according to you, Crosshair protested that everyone else could read him so well. But they always observed you, took everything in and saved the information for later. It would have felt creepy if it wasn’t so nice to have his eyes on you.

“Like what you see?” rasped the man running through your mind.

Grinning, you reached for his hand, pulling him closer towards you. “I always like what I see when it comes to you” you assured, cupping his face and pressing a kiss to just below his eye where the tattoo stopped. Turning around, you reached up for Wrecker as well, who chuckled and relented, bending down to help you. Rewarding him, you kissed across the scars along his nose. “Both of you” you added, laying a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“So do we, mesh’la! Now come on, I want to taste you. Been thinking about it for so long!” Wrecker insisted, gripping you around your waist and flinging you onto the bed.

Giggling, you pushed yourself up, watching as he knelt on the bed, running his large, calloused hands up your legs until he gripped your thighs. Biting your lip, you gave him a nod of consent before he pushed your thighs open, spreading them wider than you would have so he could fit himself in between you. He sighed, running his nose up from your knee to your inner thigh, taking you in.

“Whose in a hurry now?” Crosshair snarked, leaning against the wall, watching the way you shivered slightly at the cool air of the marauder and the way Wrecker was touching you.

Wrecker frowned, sitting up slightly to return his brother’s barb but you quickly interrupted them. Running a hand over Wrecker’s head, you tugged him back down to his previous position. He got the memo and began laying kisses along your soft, delicate skin.

“If you can’t play nice, then we won’t play at all!” you warned the sharp shooter, reaching out to poke at his leg.

Cross snorted, climbing up onto the bed next to your head. “Keep telling yourself that, kitten” he drawled, curling a strand of your hair around his finger. He tugged it lightly before settling himself comfortably against the headboard.

From where he was sitting, you could see his cock give a twitch against his thigh as he was supporting a semi. Reaching out for him, you ran feather-light fingers up and down his shaft. Grinning, you watched as his cock gave another twitch and began hardening further.

However, what attention you were giving Crosshair soon stopped, as Wrecker pressed a kiss to your groin, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive core.

“Ready for me, mesh’la?” he asked, squeezing your knee with his large hand and angling your leg just right for him to have room to work.

“Yeah” you breathed, voice catching in your throat as Wrecker lowered his head to your apex and began pressing gentle kisses along your lower lips and folds, starting off soft first. It sent warmth curling through your body at the way he was showering you with love and affection. His left hand came up to massage and rub at your thigh, feeling the soft shiver that ran through you at his touch.

Wrecker finally stopped his gentle caresses and kisses to lick at your clit, the tip of his tongue flicking against the bud and causing you to gasp. Swirling his tongue under the hood of it, he began working his way down to your dampening folds and pushing through them, eager to get to your centre. His large hands kept rubbing and massaging your thighs, keeping them spread wide for him as he lapped at you.

“Fuck, Wreck!” you groaned, eyes sliding shut as you ran a hand over his head and down to the back of his neck, pressing him closer into you. He groaned against you, the vibrations shooting up to your clit and making it throb.

“That’s it, got to get you nice and wet for me. Won’t be able to take me otherwise” he murmured, pressing his tongue inside of you and squeezing your legs at the taste of you exploding on his tongue. “Hmm, Crosshair, you got to try this!” Wrecker insisted, lapping at your cunt while he threw your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Maybe later, I’d rather try her mouth” Crosshair hummed, his hand cupping your cheek and turning you to face him. He looked down into your wide, lust filled eyes and had to bite back a groan of his own. He really wanted you looking like that at him with your lips stretched around his cock.

Nuzzling into his hand, you caught his thump in between your lips, sliding them up and down his finger while making sure to maintain eye contact with him. You could already see how hot and frustrated he was getting, no doubt he wanted to feel you around him. Moaning around him, you flicked and curled your tongue around his thumb, giving him a demonstration of what awaited him.

“Eager, aren’t we, kitten?” he purred, pulling his thumb out of your mouth and smearing your saliva across your bottom lip. “Gonna take me in this pretty mouth?” he asked, pulling down your lip.

“Oh, please!” you gasped, as you felt Wrecker’s tongue curl around the rim of your opening. “Fuck!” you cursed, digging your heels into Wrecker’s back as he sucked one of your folds into his mouth.

Crosshair chuckled, grabbing a few pillows off Hunter’s bed and propping them up behind you so that your head was lifted. He straddled your upper body, pumping his cock a few times.

His cock was so close to you, you could feel the warmth of the sniper pressing against you, his knuckles grazing your lips as his hand worked the length of his cock. But you wanted to taste him, wanted to feel the weight of him in your mouth against your tongue. Opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him, you looked up at him, waiting for his next move.

“Kriff! You look so fucking hot like that” Cross hissed, pushing his length into your mouth. He couldn’t help but let out a small gasp as your tongue flicked over the head, collecting the drops of pre-cum that had started to leak out.

Moaning, you closed your eyes and sunk deeper onto his cock, making sure you hollowed your cheeks out to provide suction for him. Crosshair was of average girth but he was slightly longer than average, and you enjoyed the weight of his cock in your mouth as he began to pull out slowly so you could take a breath.

“That’s it! You’re taking me so well. You were made to suck my cock” Crosshair praised, hand reaching behind him to grip and squeeze at your breast. His long dexterous fingers played with your nipple, brushing over them gently before giving them a sharp tweak. The sound that was muffled by his cock had more blood rushing downwards.

Forcing your eyes open, you ran your hands up and down his powerful thighs, bobbing your head against him while his other hand tangled into your hair. You couldn’t help the cry that you let out as Wrecker began to suck at your clit, giving it lazy luxurious sucks before flicking his tongue across the nub quickly so that your hips bucked up into his mouth. God it felt amazing to have them both against you. Crosshair fucking into your mouth and Wrecker eating you out. It had been too long since you were able to experience just how good they could take you apart and put you back together again.

Holding your head, Crosshair began thrusting into your warm, wet mouth. He kept an beskar-clad control on himself as he felt his cock ache at how good it felt to be surrounded by you. Pinching the nipple in his hand, he let out a loud growl at the way it felt around his cock. Maker, just the thought of you taking him down your throat while his brother had you squirming and writhing on his mouth would tide him over until the next time you could all play.

The pleasure that these two were wringing from you were almost too much. Crosshair was filling your mouth, turning all thoughts to mush as he guided you along his cock, at the pace that he wanted for you. All you had to do was take him. It didn’t help that Wrecker was also distracting you, wrapping his wonderful lips around your clit and brushing his fingers against your opening. He didn’t push in, needing you to relax a little more before he opened you up properly for him. Heat raced through you, your body singing from everywhere they touched you and you couldn’t help but buck your hips into Wrecker while you took Cross further into your mouth.

You gagged a little, and he dragged you up by the hair. “Careful, kitten. I want this to be fun for all of us” he reminded, letting you take a few more breaths in before sliding his cock into your mouth once more.

Moans and cries of pleasures echoed around Crosshair’s cock as you felt your orgasm building and building from them both. Wrecker hummed against your little bundle of nerves, sending shock waves of ecstasy through you as you were shoved over the edge, no warning as Wrecker drank in your juices, moaning at the taste of your release on his tongue.

Crosshair pulled out, admiring the way your hair stuck to your forehead, the way you were panting and had such a relaxed and satisfied look spread over your face. Your body shook at the way your orgasm had washed over you, and he was careful to keep his touch light and reassuring as he ran soothing fingers up and down your arms.

Finally it became too much, and you nudged Wrecker with your feet, pushing him away from you. Taking deep lungfuls of breath, you couldn’t help but beam at them. It felt so good to finally have a release that wasn’t due to your own hand or a quickie under the blankets.

“You okay, mesh’la?” Wrecker checked in, pulling away from you and sitting on his knees. He shoved Crosshair to the side, earning a hiss of anger and a swift kick to the side in retaliation from his brother. But he didn’t seem to mind as he smiled down at you. You always looked gorgeous to him, but you were even more beautiful after having an orgasm because of him.

“I’m good, don’t think my legs work” you murmured, unable to help the giggle that escaped you at the smug and satisfied expression that spread across his face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you wherever you want to go” the gentle giant promised, leaning forward to press a kiss to your sweet lips. He cupped your face in his hands, nuzzling your nose as you moaned at the taste of yourself on his lips and against his tongue. “Maybe Cross can even make you food and drinks!” Wrecker suggested, teasing his brother.

“Don’t even think about it, you’re spoiled enough!” Crosshair rolled his eyes, no real heat in his words.

Beaming, you ran your fingers up his thigh, tracing patterns along his skin, “you love spoiling me, admit it!”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, shaking his head but didn’t deny it. He did love spoiling you, you were his kitten, his princess. If he could, he’d do anything to make your day a little lighter, a littler easier to deal with. You hadn’t been brought up like the rest of his brothers and the regs, why should you have to suffer the hardships that they did. If he could spoil you and give you nice things that made you happy and comfortable then he would.

“Come on, roll her over or we’ll be giving our brothers a show” Crosshair reminded, climbing off the bed to go and reach for his box that stored all of his belongings.

Wrecker grabbed you around the waist, displaying his strength as he brought you into him before flipping you both around until he was on his back and you were plastered against his front. Grinning up at you, he ran his hands up and down your sides, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose with yours.

“Hey handsome” you breathed, enjoying the quiet oasis, just you and him and Crosshair finding your pleasure and touching each other. It was perfect.

“Hey mesh’la. I’m going to open you up for me now, okay? Need you to be nice and relaxed for me so I can get inside you” he smiled, hands sliding down your back until they reached your ass, giving them a good squeeze and tugging you up his chest slightly.

Your breath caught in your throat, just like it always did at the mere thought of Wrecker opening you up for his cock. Wrecker’s fingers were thicker than his brothers’ and capable of hurling you over the edge faster than you could think. But it was needed if you were going to take his cock, the stretch around him was always tight. Spreading your legs wider around his large frame, you gasped at the feel of your nipples brushing against his chest hair.

The bed dipped behind you, and you turned to see Crosshair holding the bottle of lube in his hand. Oh, they were going to take you together then. They must have planned this out before you had managed to grab some alone time away from the others.

Crosshair came and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, working the skin into his mouth and sucking a large bruise there. He worried the skin with his teeth, causing you to gasp before he licked over the mark soothingly. Pulling away, he littered soft, gentle kisses down your spine his hands running soothingly up and down your flanks.

Relaxing into their touches, you couldn’t help but sink into the sensations. They were always so loving to you, touch almost worshipping as they built you higher and higher until you couldn’t help but find release. You would have thought that they’d be more desperate, more demanding after the time you have had to be away from each other. But they seemed to be savouring every touch against your skin, every sound that they pulled out of you and the sight of you pressed between them.

Wrecker pulled you into a kiss, hand sliding in between your body to reach your centre. He could already feel the slick from your previous orgasm there and he eagerly collected it on his fingers, spreading it around to get you nice and wet for him. Nipping at your lip, he soothed the bite with his a slide of his tongue as he pressed one of his thick fingers inside of you.

Gasping against his mouth, you couldn’t help but feel yourself flutter around his finger. You took in a steadying breath, relaxing your muscles against him and mouthing at his chest, hoping to suck a bruise onto him to mark him as yours.

The sound of a bottle cap opening was heard behind you and you tensed up, expecting the cold drizzle of lube running down your ass. But instead, Crosshair squeezed your round globes before pressing a kiss to one of them. “Going to open you up back here for me as well, sweetheart. Think you can take both of us?” he asked, voice genuinely curious and holding no expectation. If you said no, that would be fine, they’d rework their plans.

But you wanted it so much, to be stuffed full by both of your lovers. To be able to feel them even after you had gone back to your normal routine. It had been a while since you took them both, but that didn’t mean you didn’t want to. Nodding, you pushed yourself up and twisted around to meet the sniper’s dark eyes and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Good girl, that’s it. All you’ve got to do is lie here and take what we give you” Wrecker grinned, helping you to lie back down on him. He finally began to move his finger inside of you, enjoying just how wet and hot you felt around him. He knew from experience just how amazing you’d feel around his cock.

As you sighed into Wrecker’s chest, relaxing into the gentle push in and out of your entrance, you tensed up at the feel of a lubed up finger swirling around your puckered hole. Cross swiped it around a couple of times before slowly pressing in.

“Oh!”

The sound was punched out of you at the feel of both of them pressing their explorative fingers inside of you. It felt so good. Nerves firing off and shooting pleasure through your body at their slow pace. You clung around them, muscles tensing at the intrusion as you got used to the sensation.

“Relax, or you won’t be able to take either of us” Crosshair instructed, resting a hand between your shoulder blades and pushing you further down into Wrecker’s chest.

A whine slipped out at the move, feeling pinned between them as they both began to move in tandem. Their pace matched each others, stretching you open on their fingers. As one pushed in, so did the other. Your breath was faltering at every thrust and it was all you could do to relax around them.

“That’s it mesh’la, stay nice and relaxed for us. Got to get you nice and ready for us” Wrecker encouraged, as your hips bucked down onto their hands. “Take a deep breath for me” Wrecker instructed, kissing your cheek.

You did as he said, taking in a deep lungful before it caught in your throat as both of them pushed another finger into you. The stretch from both holes had you moaning, eyes squeezing shut at the feel of them sliding in and out of you.

“Fuck! Wreck! Cross!” you cried, clenching down around them.

“Relax, kitten!” Cross growled, pinching your ass and spreading it open for him to see just how well you were taking his fingers. “Such a greedy girl!” he murmured, watching as your hole seemed to clutch and swallow his fingers with every press inside.

“Cross!” you whined, burying your face into Wrecker’s chest at the sniper’s words.

“Shh, that’s a good thing, mesh’la. Ya know you’re so pretty, right? Our pretty girl” the demolition expert praised, a chuckle rumbling through his chest at how you were hiding into him.

Even through the heat burning across your face, you nodded. Because he was right. You were theirs, and they were yours.

“Gonna have to make her cum again to take us. She’s so tight, keeps sucking us in like the greedy slut she is” Cross growled, nipping at your thigh and feeling the way you tightened around his fingers at that.

“Oh yeah! That sounds good to me!” Wrecker laughed, nodding at Crosshair. This time they slid three fingers inside of you, and you let out a cry as the way they both stretched you open, making sure that they were teasing you and getting you ready for them at the same time. Wrecker passed his thumb over your clit, beaming at the way you shivered around them. “Ohh, someone’s a little sensitive!” he boomed out, beginning to draw circles around your clit as he thrust his fingers sharply up into you.

Panting, you clutched onto his shoulders as the boys began to increase their pace, twisting and shoving inside of you without any rhythm. It left you wanting more and you couldn’t help but begin to buck into their hands, writhing against them as they curled their fingers, rubbing deliciously along your walls.

You could feel yourself getting wetter, the heat rising in you as the coil inside of you got tighter and tighter at every brush of Wrecker’s thumb against your clit and twist from Crosshair’s lithe fingers.

“That’s it mesh’la, ride our fingers. Look so good, taking us so well” Wrecker murmured in awe, his mouth coming to layer your jaw and cheeks with kisses.

With every rocking movement of your hips, you could feel your release getting closer and closer. And when Wrecker curled his fingers just right, rubbing that spot inside of you that had you seeing stars, you couldn’t help but fall over the edge. Your vision whited out as you shook around them, nails digging into whatever and whoever you could as you clutched onto them. Their names fell from your mouth in a loud cry as they continued to help you through the powerful orgasm that left you trembling.

“Hmm, good girl, that’s it. Doing so well for us, kitten” Cross’ raspy voice filled your ears as you were leant back into his chest. He withdrew his fingers from you, keeping his arms wrapped around you tightly so you wouldn’t fall back down onto Wrecker. He littered soft, open mouthed kisses along your neck, soothing you back into the land of the living after your release.

Sighing, you sunk back into the warm safety of his arms, letting your mind float at how incredible you felt. You felt boneless almost, and it was an effort to return some of Cross’ kisses as you clutched onto his forearms to keep you steady.

“Pass me the lube” Wrecker grunted, tapping Cross’ knee. As soon as the sniper passed it over, Wrecker was lubing up his cock, pumping it a few times before guiding his cock to your entrance. You were still pressing kisses to Crosshair’s jaw, nipping at the hinge before littering his faces with kisses. So when they both held you over Wrecker’s cock, you couldn’t help but moan, trying to push yourself down onto the incredible length.

“Ready, mesh’la?” he asked, hands coming to your waist and thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips.

“Yeah… yeah I want you” you breathed, and slowly lowered yourself down onto his cock. It was a bit of a stretch, but the way they had opened you up and the 2 orgasms had relaxed you enough so you could take him at a steady pace. When your hips met his, it was all you could do to muffle your whines, feeling so full.

Wrecker buried his head into your neck, quieting his own groans as he felt you clench around him. It was almost like you were strangling his cock. Breathing deep, he tried to take apart a proton torpedo in his mind to stop this from being over way too soon.

“Fuck! Oh fuck! Wrecker!” you cried, eyes squeezed shut as you got used to his size. Wrecker was a large man, a gentle giant, but his cock would put most men to shame. It was thicker and longer than any you had ever taken. And Crosshair normally fucked you open first to prepare you for taking Wrecker, but now, oh now you couldn’t help but feel him everywhere.

You looked down, surprised that you weren’t bulging from the way that he was pressing inside of you. You were stuffed full of him, even as he remained still. It felt like your body was just melding around him, your inner walls having no choice but to fit snugly around his hard length.

“Shh, good girl. Relax for me, need you to relax” Wrecker groaned, bringing you back down so he could press his lips against yours, swallowing your little whines and punched out noises.

It was a lot easier said than done, but you tried to force your muscles and body to relax against him, helped by the soothing strokes of Crosshair up and down your back and the way that you could feel Wrecker holding you to him.

“That’s it, mesh’la. Stay relaxed, sweetheart. Need to make sure Cross can fit” Wrecker reminded, hands stroking through your hair as he could feel your muscles fluttering around him as his cock pressed into all those good spots inside of you.

“’Kay, please move… want to feel you” you begged, biting your lip as you began to get restless atop of him.

“Thought you’d be able to feel him well enough, kitten” Cross smirked, watching the way his brother’s cock pulled out before sinking back into you. Your punched out little cry at the first thrust had his cock twitching and he had to press a hand to the base for a second to get himself back under control.

“So full! Feel him everywhere. Oh! Wrecker!” you cried, nodding your head in agreement to his smokey voice as you buried your head into Wrecker’s neck, panting as he pushed in slowly, making you feel every inch of his thick and delicious cock inside of your pussy. Every vein and bump could be felt as he entered you once more.

You were so distracted with Wrecker and how he filled you, stretching you out around his massive cock that you jolted a little when you felt the head of Crosshair’s cock nudge at your back entrance.

“Shh, kitten, relax for me” Crosshair murmured against your skin, pressing open mouth kisses along your back and shoulders as he felt you jump.

“’M okay” you mumbled, closing your eyes as you pressed back against him. However, two large hands kept your still, and you turned to pout at Wrecker beneath you.

“Sorry mesh’la, but you go at our pace. Don’t want you hurtin’ yourself!” Wrecker shook his head, sending you a small soft smile in apology. He knew how much you wanted to take Cross, but it was best if he was the one to guide his cock into your ass.

Chuckling at your whine of disapproval, Crosshair slowly pressed inside of you, mindful of how full you already were with Wrecker, and how long it had been since you had last done this together. He inched himself inside of you, paying close attention to your face and the small noises of pleasure you were letting out.

“Good girl.”

You didn’t know which one of them said it, but it made you grin at the praise. You would be their good girl, you’d take them both and let them fill you up. With every inch of Crosshair pushing into you, it felt like you were going to combust. Every nerve was firing off and you could barely breathe from the stimulation of both Wrecker and Crosshair inside of you. Your nails dug into Wrecker’s chest as you tried to take in a few deep breaths to gain some control over yourself.

When Cross was all the way inside, all three of you let out groans and grunts. Both troopers could feel the other inside, parted by a thin bit of tissue but it felt so good to be inside your wet, delicious heat. You, however, could only cling onto them as you tried to catch your breath. If you thought you felt full with just Wrecker pressed deep inside of you, adding Crosshair made you feel like you would burst. They filled you up so much it felt like there was barely enough room for you to breathe.

“Kriff, can feel how tight you are! Gotta relax sweetheart, here, lie down on me” Wrecker grunted, guiding you back down onto his chest. His large hands crept up to your head, cradling you against him.

The new position had you feeling them both from a different angle and it was all you could do to bury the noise you let out into Wrecker’s chest.

“Can we move now, kitten?” Crosshair breathed quietly into your ear, warm breath caressing you. His hands were sliding up and down your sides, soothing you into a more relaxed position. He wouldn’t move until you told him it was okay.

“Hmm, please!” you sighed, one hand sliding behind you to reach for Crosshair. Be it his hand, or his hip, or his leg, you didn’t care. You just wanted to hold him.

Crosshair seemed to understand what you wanted, as his hand threaded with yours and he held it against your hip, squeezing your fingers between his. Slowly and with great care, he pulled his cock out, watching as your hole clutched onto him, almost strangling him on the way out. Letting you take a breath in, he thrust back in with one smooth move.

You cried out, other hand coming up to clutch at Wrecker’s shoulder. It seemed to be the act that Wrecker was looking for because he began to move once more two. The pair of them started a steady and slow rhythm, getting you used to both of them being inside of you once more. They always kept you filled, when one pulled out, the other would thrust back in, making you keen and push back against them.

Wrecker’s warm hand came to cup your cheek, pulling your face up to meet his in an open mouthed kiss. It was messy and uncoordinated, your teeth clashing and lips sliding off one another but it didn’t matter. Just being pressed against him, breathing the same air was enough as your gentle giant panted against your lips.

“That’s it mesh’la, doing so well! Look how brilliant you are, taking us like this” Wrecker beamed, pulled away to nuzzle at your jaw. He grazed his teeth over the sensitive skin, bucking his hips up to you a little faster.

“Oh!” you gasped, biting your lip as you tilted your head back so he could litter your neck with more bruises and marks from him and Cross.

Not one to be left out, Crosshair began to match his brother’s pace, hips slamming into yours at a much more harder pace than when they first began. It had you shouting out their names, rocking your hips and pushing back as much as you could with how you were trapped in between them. You could only take what they were giving you.

Slender arms slid in between you before you were hauled up against Crosshair’s chest, hips pistoning into yours. The new angle of both of them had you crying out, eyes slamming shut as Wrecker thrust up into you, rubbing that spot deliciously on every buck of his hips. It also had the added benefit of Cross sinking deeper into you, short jabs resulting in you digging your nails into the soft skin on the back of his neck as you wrapped your hand around him.

“Kriff! Fucking hell!” you cursed, feeling the coil in your stomach tighten and tighten with each thrust into you. It felt amazing having them inside of you, like their cocks were carving out a space for themselves inside your fluttering channels. Nobody else could make you feel this good, nobody could even dream of it, not when you were so utterly in love with Wrecker and Crosshair.

“You close, mesh’la? Can feel you squeezing me” Wrecker grinned, hand sliding in between your bodies to gentle glide over your clit.

It had you gritting your teeth, legs twitching at the surge of pleasure the simple touch brought forth. Sparks flew from the little nub as Wrecker began to rub at it.

“Yeah she is! Kriff! Should feel how tight it is back here” Cross groaned, nipping at your ear as he slammed into you.

“Cross!” you whined, turning to press kisses along his jaw, his cheeks, wherever your lips could meet his skin.

“Think we should let her cum?” Wrecker chuckled, fingers picking up their pace as he circled your clit.

Crosshair hummed in deliberation, drawing it out just to tease you. He could feel just how close you were to cumming. Your ass was squeezing his cock like you refused to let it go, and no doubt the same was happening to your muscles as they fluttered around Wrecker. Sliding your sweat-slicked skin together, he bit softly onto your shoulder.

“I think we should” he hummed, hearing the moan of relief that you let out at them not teasing you and edging you this time. “Gonna scream for us, kitten?” he smirked, hand sliding up the valley of your chest and squeezing one of your breasts into his hands. He gave it a harsh squeeze, making you squeal and clench around the lengths slamming inside of you.

“Fuck! Yes, yes I will… just-just please let me cum!” you begged, hoping they wouldn’t draw this out. You were on the edge, you could feel just how wet and slick you were around Wrecker, feel the way you were rocking against Cross. It wouldn’t take much to throw you over the edge.

“You beg so sweetly, kitten, but I think you can do better than that” the sniper ordered, tweaking your nipple.

It was like fire shot through your body and you moaned, back arching and pressing your chest into his teasing hands. “Please, please! Need you both! Need you to make me cum, please. Want you to fill me up” you cried, clutching onto your troopers and hoping your words was enough. You were so close. They had to let you cum.

“I think that’s good enough!” Wrecker growled, dragging his cock along the spot inside of you that had you screaming out his name.

Your thighs quivered as you came around them both, release flooding through you as you shook as you fell over the edge. It was like liquid ecstasy was coursing through your brains as every nerve fired off at once.

“WRECK! CROSS!”

Crosshair growled at the way his name sounded falling from your lips. He couldn’t help but chase his own release now, giving you a few short jabs into your quivering hole before he flooded your ass with his cum. That had you letting out a little moan of pleasure as you felt warmth fill you.

Wrecker felt the fluttering of your walls around him, felt the way his cock was drenched with your release and couldn’t hold back no more. He gave another long, deep thrust before he stilled, shooting his load into your entrance and letting out a cry of your own name.

It was lucky he was so strong, because both you and Crosshair collapsed against him, all of them exhausted and boneless. He wrapped his arms around his lover and brother as much as he could, content to just stay there for a while before they would have to move.

When you had caught your breath, you pulled both of them into long, passionate kisses revelling in being able to feel the weight of them against you in post-orgasmic bliss.

“We are never waiting this long again” you insisted, grinning playfully at your troopers. You grimaced as Cross pulled his softening cock from you and Wrecker did the same, lifting you off him.

“Agreed, I’m willing to give the others a favour if they keep the kid away for an hour or two” Cross nodded, reaching for some wipes that he had left by the side in preparation for clean up. He helped guide you in between his and Wrecker’s body, taking in your body and the marks that was scattered on it by him and his brother.

“Well, I for one love having Omega around” Wrecker frowned, and you couldn’t help but rush to reassure him.

“We do too love, but I’m also glad when your brothers take her for a bit. That way we can be together. But I’m sure she’ll be home soon. So we need to be cleaning up this ship” you assured before encouraging them up. As Crosshair finished cleaning you up though, you couldn’t help but lean forward and give him a kiss. “Thank you sweetheart, now lets get going!” you ordered, stroking his cheek.

“ARGH! Do we have to?” Wrecker grumbled, grabbing a couple of wipes to clean himself up.

“Yes, unless you want to explain to Omega why our clothes are scattered everywhere and Hunter looks like he’s ready to faint every time we walk past him?” you said sweetly, amused at the thought of Hunter’s face when he came back. But it wasn’t fair on the Sergeant and the rest of his brothers. So you would do all that you could to minimise the smell when Hunter got back.

“Good point! Come on Wrecker! Get moving!” Crosshair snapped, flinging a shirt at his brother’s head.

Shaking your head at the bickering that move started, you headed to the ramp, pressing the button to open it and air out the ship. It was a start, and you quickly got to work cleaning the ship with your lovers.

By the time the others had gotten back, you were all freshly showered and dressed, the sheets had been laundered and you were currently reading a book on Wrecker’s bunk. You were leaning against the demolition expert’s chest while Cross was resting his head on your thigh, taking a nap.

“Hey! How was it? Did you get everything?” you greeted, running your fingers through Cross’ grey hair to wake him up slowly so he wouldn’t be disturbed by the others coming back.

Omega ran up to you, holding out a couple of boxes. She passed one to Wrecker before passing another one to you. Beaming, she stood by the side of the bunk, waiting for your reactions. You opened your gift and blinked in surprise.

“Kashyyyk nuts? You got them?” you breathed, surprised at how she had been able to manage to do that. It shouldn’t have been possible to get them on this planet.

“Yeah, Echo said that I might not be able to get them at the market, but Tech showed me which ones were from Kashyyyk! Apparently they had never imported them before and this was their first time! Can you believe it?” Omega explained, accepting one from the box as you offered her one.

Wrecker chuckled behind you, chest shaking beneath your back. Cross snorted, rubbing his face into your thigh for a moment before he pushed himself up to look over at you, smirk in place.

“No, I can’t believe it. Thank you Omega, you’re a wonder” you smiled, bringing the girl into your arms and giving her a grateful hug.

“Yeah! Our girl’s full of surprises!” Echo remarked, ruffling the younger clones hair as he passed.

“So is ours” Cross murmured lowly for Wrecker and I to hear. He pecked your cheek before getting off the bunk to go help the others.

“So, tell us all about the market?” Wrecker requested, squeezing both of his favourite girls into his loving arms. He shared a smile with you as you both began to listen to Omega’s retelling of the supply run.

#wrecker x reader #crosshair x reader #star wars #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #the bad batch crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #wrecker bad batch #clone trooper wrecker #tbb #star wars x reader #sw tcw #tcw #star wars tcw #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #clone wars #kinktober 2024

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 1 month ago

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Weltschmerz is a German word that describes a feeling of sadness, weariness, or hopelessness about the world. It's made up of the words Welt, meaning "world", and Schmerz, meaning "pain".

[Thanks Ellen Geller]

* * * *

Put one foot in front of the other. Repeat.

November 16, 2024

Robert B. Hubbell

It was a tough week—on the heels of an even tougher week. A few Democrats are revved up and ready to jump back in the fight. But if my inbox is a reliable indicator, many (most?) people are still reeling from the losses on Election Day. They are bewildered, exhausted, tapped out emotionally and financially, and angry. You wouldn’t be human if you did not feel those emotions in some measure. Hopes were high, and the loss was unexpected. The disappointment was exacerbated by PTSD.

The president-elect has a feral sense that many Democrats are emotionally vulnerable. His cabinet picks are designed to rub salt in our wounds and deepen our sense of bewilderment. We must recognize that the ludicrous nominations over the past week are part of a strategy to dispirit and weaken Democrats—in hopes of reducing their resolve to resist his dark plans.

We cannot give in to the president-elect’s transparent ploy. Although I am not a fan of the Godfather movie franchise (no hate mail, please!), every American knows the line, “‘It’s not personal, Sonny. It’s strictly business.”

Trump’s bizarre, anti-government nominations are not personal. They are strictly business—to Trump and to us. He is using them as an emotional cudgel against Democrats and a test of loyalty for incredulous Republicans. Our job is to defeat as many of the nominations as possible—thereby demonstrating that Trump is vulnerable and weak after his narrow win.

It is possible that Trump will resort to unilateral recess appointments by forcing an adjournment of Congress for ten days so that he can cram his unqualified, anti-establishment choices on the American people.

Doing so would be a mistake and would overplay Trump's hand. The officers would be branded as illegitimate leaders who could not make it through a Senate confirmation. More importantly, such a move would instantly convert Trump into America’s first (and last) dictator.

No other president has forced an adjournment of Congress, much less for the anti-democratic purpose of evading the Senate’s “advice and consent” role under the Constitution. Although lawsuits would challenge the recess appointments unilaterally engineered by Trump, the bigger point is that the move would drop all pretense of a president bound by the rule of law.

Whatever the Framers thought they were doing with the recess appointments and the adjournment clause, none of them believed those clauses could be manipulated to strip the Senate of its constitutional obligation to review presidential nominations.

If Trump manages to remove the Senate’s advice and consent role from the Constitution, he will sow the seeds of his quick undoing.

As I write, it appears that the nominations of Matt Gaetz, Pete Hegseth, and Robert Kennedy are in trouble—at least if they go through the Senate confirmation process.

We can help keep up the pressure by notifying our Senators and Representatives that we oppose the nominations of Gaetz, Hegseth, Kennedy, and Gabbard. See Jessica Craven’s Chop Wood Carry Water for a word script and link to phone numbers. Chop Wood, Carry Water 11/14.

There are two other themes that deserve mention as we head into the weekend.

The first is the stand-alone injury to women across America who hoped that the 2024 election would be a major step to re-establishing their status as equal citizens under the Constitution. Few opinion writers or journalists have mentioned that the re-election of Trump has dashed those hopes—at least for another four years.

Mother Jones has addressed the issue of the election’s impact on women in its article, Of Misogyny, Musk, and Men by Clara Jeffrey. The article runs under the sub-header “Women are not okay. We’re furious.”

For all of the punditry analyzing the reason for Democrats’ loss on November 5, almost none of them mention the Trump campaign’s explicit appeal to sexism among young men. Any pundit who purports to analyze the reasons for Kamala Harris’s loss and does not list misogyny among the top three reasons is running cover for Trump—whether they intend to or not.

The second issue is the unrelenting tidal wave of pundit analyses that seek to assign blame for the Democratic loss. Spoiler alert: The reason is (allegedly) that Democrats are “liberal elitists” who ignored the working class.

The above analysis is both wrong and lazy. But even if it were accurate, it beggars belief that journalists and pundits are wasting their time assigning blame at the very moment that Trump “is slouching toward Bethlehem” in the manner of the “rough beast” in The Second Coming.1

If the above metaphor is too obscure for a Saturday morning, here is another: Imagine that we are on an oil drilling platform in the North Sea. A fire has started in the galley and threatens to engulf the entire platform. What is the better course of action? To argue over who is responsible for starting the fire in the galley or to work on extinguishing the fire?

It is appropriate and necessary to understand how and why Democrats fell short in 2024. But to do so at a time when we are stranded on a burning platform is suicidal. Assigning blame may fill column inches but it corrodes unity. The legacy media is failing us.

And yet, readers cannot resist the temptation to forward articles to me with the thesis, “Democrats are liberal elitists who got what they deserved.” I get a dozen such emails a day (often multiple duplicates of the latest from NYT or WaPo). I have received hundreds since November 5.

Amplifying such articles merely compounds the journalistic malpractice of the legacy media. We should not give them oxygen. They invite disputation and discord. They are inimical to our prime objective: Resist the efforts of the Trump administration to erode the rule of law.

Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter

#Der Spiegel #Ellen Geller #Robert B. Hubbell #Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter #activism #take heart #unity #chop wood carry water #recess appointments #adjournment clause

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literary-motif · 10 months ago

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Secretary (NSFW)

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

Giving Isaac head under the desk while he’s on the phone.

“I’ve got some interesting things you might want to take a look at,” you said, handing Isaac a stack of papers.

He took it absentmindedly, muttering a small ‘thank you’ as he continued furiously scribbling something down on the margin of the document he was pouring over.

Isaac had been preoccupied with a different case for the past few days. Originally, it had been a favor he agreed to do for Asirel — look into the business of some of his more volatile acquaintances and gather as much discrediting data on them as possible — but this side case had led him to do some research that unearthed intriguing connections neither of you had thought of before.

For as much as you were both invested in your work, Isaac had started to look like a man possessed by the need to know.

Sometimes when you were sitting down to eat, an idea would strike him and he would spring up suddenly, rushing to his study to follow up on it, leaving you sitting alone at the table. He would jolt awake in the middle of the night and jot down new thoughts, half delirious, only to be annoyed in the morning at being unable to read his own handwriting and not understanding a word of what he’d written down.

The situation had gone out of hand. Isaac was thinking so much about Asirel’s colleagues and their dubious connections, that he had begun to neglect his other cases, mainly the one you were working on together.

It did not bother you, taking on more of his workload and spending extra hours invested in your research, but you knew that part of the case was time-sensitive and you needed Isaac — concentrated and at his best — to prevent the worst from happening.

He massaged his shoulder with his free hand, kneading the base of his neck absentmindedly. An expression of discomfort and pain flashed across Isaac’s face briefly, and he retreated his hand from his tense shoulders.

You knew that he was stressed, and as you looked at him now, you could see just how rigidly stiff his posture was. Isaac needed to relax and release some of the tension he carried from working himself into the ground.

“This case you’ve been working on is more complex than we previously thought and, in cross-referencing it to past ones, I was able to pick out some patterns that point to the same group of people we already have under observation,” you explained, causing Isaac to look up at you briefly.

“Well done,” he said, and by the way his eyes returned to the words in front of him immediately, you knew that he had not understood a single word you said.

Sighing you moved around his desk to stand beside him, leaning over his shoulder to look at the document he was annotating. “Found anything interesting, my knight?” you asked, making sure that Isaac felt your breath on his skin from how close you were.

He hummed in reply, not elaborating further as he continued reading, ignoring or unbothered by your proximity. You suppressed the need to sigh in annoyance and hooked a finger under his chin instead, tilting Isaac’s head to the side to give you better access to his neck. “What are you doing?” he asked in confusion, still keeping his eyes fixed on the page and head tilted to the side, just as you had guided him to.

As you began kissing his neck, sucking lightly at the sensitive spot right under his jaw, you could feel his heartbeat sped up under the touch of your lips. “Do I have your attention now?” you whispered, sending a shiver down his spine, “or do I have to resort to more drastic measures?”

Isaac swallowed, turning his head to glance at you. “You wouldn’t believe the trail I’m currently following,” he said breathlessly, “Whatever you think you have uncovered can wait. This here” — he pointed at the paper in front of him — “is monumental.”

“That might very well be,” you said sweetly, raking your hand through his hair and making Isaac sigh in contentment immediately, “but we have cases to work on other than Asirel’s petty security schemes.” Your hand trailed lower until you were playing with the hair at the base of his neck.

Isaac breathed shakily, his eyes drifting shut of their own accord at how good your touch felt. You knew him too well. You knew exactly which buttons to push to get him riled up, you knew what to do to make him swoon, and you knew where to touch him to undo him in an instant.

“I don’t think you’re playing fair,” Isaac observed as the fingers of your free hand slipped down his collar and pressed down on his spine, beginning to loosen the tension he held there with a few expert touches. He could not suppress the soft moan of bliss that escaped him.

You smirked, tilting his head up again with a light pull at his hair. “I don’t think I know what you mean,” you purred, kissing his lips. “I’d just like you to pay attention to me when I tell you important things.”

“Everything you say is important to me,” he replied in a whisper, his eyes lighting up in delight as he saw you avert your gaze briefly. “Did I make you flustered, Pickle?” He chuckled fondly, kissing you again. “Why, that wasn’t my intention in the slightest, but I’ll admit, you look cute all bashful.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching across the desk to place the stack of paper with the case files connected to your primary case in front of him. “I’d really like you to take a look at these—”

The phone on his desk rang and Isaac tensed immediately, moving away from you and answering it with a professional, if not to say cold, statement of his name. Gone was the husky breathiness of only a moment ago, and his facade of stoic professionalism was back in place with no cracks visible.

“Oh, Asirel, yes,” Isaac said, barely suppressing his excitement to let his friend — pardon, colleague — know what he had found out. “The people you requested are horrible. There is so much potentially fatal to their careers if you know where to look— They are done for, I’m sure.”

It was safe to say you were more than a little annoyed now. Asirel and his painful need for gossip — because that’s what got to his rivals, in the end. It was the rumors and thinly veiled jabs at their reputation and past mistakes that did them in — were interfering with your work, and it was not like you could just ignore Isaac’s sudden dive into a completely superfluous rabbit hole because you needed him and his knowledge of past cases that much predated your involvement in the PI-business to make sense of all the evidence you had accumulated. You knew there was something there, you just did not know what it was, but Isaac would. That was, if he cared to look.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, turning his chair around so he would face you and behold your disapproving stare. “And, well, do you remember the elitist hunting organization? Yes, that one. Turns out your treasurer has relations in it,” Isaac said, raising an eyebrow at you.

‘This is important’ you mouthed to him and pointed towards the papers you had placed on his desk. He nodded dismissively and held up a finger, signaling that Asirel would only take a minute. You both knew he was lying and you groaned quietly in frustration.

You were suddenly struck with an idea that was guaranteed to get Isaac off the phone and you smirked, hesitating only a moment to consider it properly before dropping to your knees on the carpeted floor. In truth, you were thrilled to punish Isaac a little for ignoring you and being so absentminded without even putting in any effort to listen to what you had to say. It was childish, you knew, but that did not make the idea any less appealing.

Isaac had not noticed you on the ground yet, but as you placed your hands on his thighs and slowly began moving them up, his head whirled towards you. The beautiful frown of confusion on his face made you smile mischievously as your hands brushed over his groin, reaching his belt as you looked up at him with burning intensity.

His eyes widened in sudden realization and he gasped quietly, mouth falling open to exhale shakily. You tilted your head, waiting for an answer before continuing. As Isaac’s cheeks turned a flaming pink, he gave a curt nod and cleared his throat, returning to his conversation with Asirel.

The belt was quickly removed and as you freed his already half-hard cock, running a finger from the base to the tip, Isaac could not suppress a shudder. His eyes were fixed on you, waiting for what you would do next. “No, yes, I’m here,” he said, sighing, “now, it’s like I told you with the senator—”

You gave him a peck on the tip of his cock. It was enough to cut him off, making him grip the armrest of his chair in a white-knuckled grip as it twitched under your lips. Isaac was so unused to this, it was almost laughable how a few expert touches from you could make his iron resolve crumble. “The— the Senator, yes," he breathed as you wrapped one of your hands around the base of his cock and began stroking him leisurely.

“I— yes, the uh, the assistant knows that, too,” Isaac stuttered when you pushed his legs further apart to scoot even closer. His wide eyes and the blush spreading across his cheek made you want to tear him apart in the best way possible. He looked so out of his depth like this, with you kneeling in front of him and gazing up at him so sweetly.

The desire churning within him was impossible to ignore and he wanted to sigh in pleasure when he felt you placing sloppy kisses around his cock. You felt so good, and he longed to tell you, praise you for how good you made him feel, for how much pleasure you gave him.

He wanted to lean his head back and let you take charge, sink into the hazy feeling slowly pulling him under and relinquish all control to you. He knew he could trust you. He knew he could be vulnerable with you, and he wanted to show you just how much control you had over him when you made him moan your name.

"Yes, Asirel," Isaac gasped, "I'm listening, go on."

His cock was painfully hard now and you made sure he was looking into your eyes as you took the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue along the underside of it. Isaac choked.

“No, no. I’m fine, it’s nothing,” he rushed out, holding onto the armrest for dear life to distract him from the overwhelming need to buck his hips into your mouth. “It’s nothing. What else do you want to know?”

Slowly, you took more of his cock and began sucking, bobbing your head. Isaac’s breathing was shaky as he hummed in agreement to whatever Asirel was saying. You could feel his entire body trembling, his hips stuttering in minuscule jerks.

With his eyes closed, he only felt your hand stop caressing his chest a moment before you reached into his slacks and fondled his balls. The new sensation made his decorum melt like ice.

He thrust his cock into your mouth with a sudden snap of his hips, making you gag. Tears sprang to your eyes immediately and you pushed yourself off of his cock for a moment to breathe, caught off guard by the sudden movement.

Isaac pressed the phone against his chest hard to muffle his moan. The feeling of you choking on him was so good, you were so good. There was nothing he wanted to do more than slam the phone down and lose himself to the feeling of you around him, hear you gag on his cock until he ravished you in return, bending you over the desk and fucking you for as long as it took for you to forget the papers you were being railed on.

“What was that, Asirel?” Isaac asked, voice hoarse, “I didn’t quite catch that.” His hand reached out to caress your cheek softly, brushing away the tears that had naturally escaped your eyes. You tilted your head to place an open-mouthed kiss against his palm, causing Isaac to bite his lip.

His fingers moved up to thread through your hair as you took him into your mouth again, guiding your head to bob in a gentle rhythm. Isaac opened his eyes to look down at you, his cheeks red and pupils blown wide in bliss.

He looked beautiful like this, nearly undone as you made him feel good. It was almost painfully easy to break his resolve now that he had let you into his heart, and you cherished every second of him allowing you to see him vulnerable, happy, or as sinful as he was now.

You hummed around his cock and his eyes fluttered shut again, mouth falling open in a silent moan as his hand tightened in your hair. It made you grunt, the vibrations of it going straight to Isaac’s cock. The pleasure was building rapidly inside him, and he could feel himself getting close.

“Mhm, I see," Isaac rasped hastily, "Listen, I’ll send you the files and my notes, alright? Good. I’ve got to go now. Goodbye Asirel.” He slammed the phone down before he got a reply, releasing a strangled moan and throwing his head back.

“God, you’re so good,” he whimpered, loosening his tie with shaky fingers, “So good yes. Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” he asked, running his hand through your hair gently as you continued sucking him off. "I didn't mean to pull your— I—"

You gripped his hand, meeting his gaze to let him know you were fine. You could tell Isaac was close. His breathing uneven and legs trembling, hips rocking to thrust into your mouth. You squeezed his hand, encouraging him to let go.

“I—” he gasped, cut off by a moan, “I think I— I’m gonna— yes, yes, please.” He came hard down your throat with a jerk of his hips, clutching your hand as if it was the only thing keeping him together.

When he calmed down from his high, he slumped back in his chair exhausted, sweat coating his forehead. “That was— you were amazing,” he said, speech slightly slurred. “Would you like me to—?”

“Take a look at the papers I gave you, yes,” you rasped, clearing your throat and wiping some of his spent from the corner of your mouth.

Isaac glared at you playfully, offering you a hand to get up from the floor. You took it, smirking at him in return.

"I'm gonna make you forget about those fucking documents, I swear."

Part II

#minors dni #isaac rhoades x reader #sakuverse #isaac rhoades

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blakeswritingimagines · 1 year ago

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Yandere Aemond, Who Accidentally Gets Your Sister Instead

"Y/n should have been mine. She was destined to be mine. I had envisioned a perfect future together, one where we flew atop our dragons and ruled the world. But that was all taken away from me. All of it, gone. Now all I have are her sister. A replacement. Second pick. A consolation prize. How dare she do this to me. She dares to bring a weaker version of herself into my life and expect me to be happy. What was she thinking? I must get rid of her."

If/when he were to be with you he would make sure that you know exactly what your place is. He would make sure that you know that he is the man of the house and that you are only what he deems you to be. You'll serve him regardless of whatever he asks or how highborn you are, and that is the way it must be. He is the master of the household, and you must obey and follow. If he has something that he wants, you must provide it to him.

If all else fails, he would consider kidnapping you in order to force you to spend your time with him. After all, the obsession would be so strong, that he could not see any other option than that. This is only one scenario however.

If he were to have you replaced by your sister he would be very upset. In fact, he would likely act aggressively. This could range from merely ignoring the sister, to trying to hurt her physically. He might even try to eliminate the competition.

He does believe he loves you and he can be quite possessive of you, especially when he sees you talking to other boys. He's always afraid that you might give them more attention than you give to him. He has to remind himself that he is your one and only love, but when the jealousy gets to him, he can get to be a little bit unhinged and obsessed. It’s not something he's proud of, but it’s part of what makes him, him.

Because he has a very short temper and a habit of lashing out when he's angry. He can be very intimidating, and he doesn't like to be crossed. So if you ever do something to piss him off, well, let's just say you better be prepared to face the consequences.

I suppose he would be rather possessive and obsessive. He doesn’t take no for an answer and his love won’t allow him to accept an alternative like your sister. He would be quite persistent and would not give up until he got his way. His pride and his honor wouldn’t allow him to settle for seconds. If he couldn’t have the object of his affection then he would take no one else, and he would go to great length and lengths to ensure that. Perhaps he would even resort to drastic measures in the heat of the moment and in his passion.

If the sister continues to interfere, he might try and drive a wedge between his beloved and your sister. He might even resort to more violent methods to ensure you stay away from each other. It would have to be kept in secret, of course. He would not want you to be suspicious. He would also be sure to make you believe that you are his one and only.

Well, since your sister has arrived it would mean that you are no longer a special focus of his attention. He would likely begin to see this as an attack on him, on your "relationship", and on the way things were meant to be. His behavior might become more and more erratic. He would likely try to get you back by whatever means necessary.

If he wished to capture your attention "again", he would likely resort to more direct, but also more subtle, methods. By this, I mean he would do his best to impress you with his talents, and also try to engage you in some of your favorite activities. He would also do his best to look his best for you, since a good appearance can go a long way in catching someone’s attention. However, he would also be sure to be mysterious and elusive when needed.

It would be most vexing. If the sister continued to attempt to get his attention he would make it clear to her in no uncertain terms that he has no interest in her. He would likely ignore her as much as possible and make sure to give you more attention than ever. He would also try to keep them as far apart from each other as he possibly could. That way, your sister would hopefully learn her place.

If your sister kept trying to be with him, he would likely try to reject her at first. Hopefully, this would give you the opportunity to see what he is to you. But if this fails, he would have no choice but to eliminate the competition. It would be for you, of course.

He is not attracted to your sister, his primary goal is to obtain his beloved. He would never be content with someone else, you are the only person he wants. No one else can measure up. He would continue to focus all his efforts on winning you over. And if your sister continues to interfere, his actions may become more drastic.

It would make the situation a bit tricky if you felt you were nothing amazing compared to your sisters. If you think that you are nothing special then his own jealousy and possessiveness might not be enough to change your mind. He might try to build your confidence up, while also emphasizing the importance of your relationship and how much he values having you with him. He could compliment you and boost your self-esteem, while also making you feel that you are more special to him than anyone else.

His family would likely be concerned about his obsession. They would be concerned about him acting out and hurting you and your sister. They would likely try and intervene and get him to let you go or stop hurting you. However, he would be hard pressed to listen to them. He cares about no one but his love.

If/when he finally got you he would do all he can to possess you. You would be his, and his alone. You would not have the option of going anywhere or doing anything without his permission. He would want you to be with him 24/7. He would make you entirely dependent on him.

He would want you to be married to him, and no one else. And he would want you to have his children and no one else’s. It would be a way of keeping you by his side and tied to him by the closest bond. Children would also serve to make you more dependent on him.

It is not something that he would wish to do. He feels it goes against his code of honor and his "chivalrous" nature. He would never want to stoop to such a level. However, if the alternative is never marrying you and having children, he may not have a choice but to force himself on you and make sure you will in fact be his. It is a decision that he would have to make.

If he were to force you into marriage with him he would make sure it is no small or quiet affair. It would be a grand ceremony. Invitations would be sent to all the great lords of Westeros. He would want to show the realm that you and he were married and that he would keep a firm grip on you. He would want to impress the realm with his love and authority. He would make sure you knew who’s royal and in power because of him, that you belonged to him.

If you are in his possession, who is to say that he cannot do what he wants? Of course he would still treat you with respect and honor you to the best of his abilities. However, you would be a prize to be proud of. You would not be free to go where you please, when you please, without his say so. He would never give you to another. He would never let you get away. He would fight tooth and nail to protect what is his.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #tw yandere #yandere #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere aemond x reader #thank you to the anon that requested this!

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empressofthewind · 1 year ago

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I know Near says in the warehouse scene that he doesn’t think Mello thought far ahead enough to realise that Mikami’s notebook was fake, but I’ve been thinking about that entire plan in a lot of depth for a fic and I have come to the conclusion that he absolutely could’ve. because Mello is extremely intelligent, obviously, and we know that Halle told him everything about the investigation except the real identities of Mikami & Light. so he knew there was some guy doing the killing for the original Kira, and that Gevanni was following him, and presumably all of the evidence they had seen up to that point that this unspecified guy was X-Kira.

if all of that is true, it means Mello would know that Mikami killed someone on a train, in front of Gevanni and numerous other witnesses, and that he was talking to himself clearly enough for Rester to flawlessly lip-read from a video captured at a reasonable distance (and unless Rester is fluent in Japanese, he might’ve even been saying this in English, which is even MORE notable). I could 100% believe that Mello would notice something off about all of that. since he doesn’t know who Mikami is, he wouldn’t know whether this kind of behaviour is normal, but he DOES know well enough how Kira operates, and he knows that he is extremely strategic in his moves. and the fact that Gevanni has been watching him for a while but has only seen each of these happen once would seem terribly convenient.

so I think Mello could easily pick up on the fact that Mikami is doing this on purpose to lull the SPK into a false sense of security, and that it’s working. from there, I think he’d also figure out that the notebook Mikami carries around is a fake, and would likely think he switched it out right after using it on the train. but he can’t just tell Near all of that, because a) he has too much pride to act as if he cares about whether or not Near survives (even if he does), and b) it wouldn’t do anything to reveal the location of the real notebook. simply knowing that the notebook is fake doesn’t do him any favours - he needs to prove it, and to reveal its actual location in the process. I think he probably guessed that the notebook was with Takada, since the killings were still happening which, in his mind, would rule out the possibility that Mikami still has the real notebook somewhere on him. but even if he thought it WAS with Mikami, he couldn’t do anything directly to him anyway since he didn’t know Mikami’s identity, so going through Takada was the best way to go about it.

the other thing that's really interesting to me about this is the implication that this plan was a last resort for Mello. Near lays out the plan for January 28th three days before, on the 25th, which means Halle would have relayed the information to him on that day. and look at his reaction to that:

to me, these two panels are SO telling about his intentions. the line "then I guess I'm going to have to do it" suggests that he's had this planned for a while, and was waiting so see how Near was intending to end the case before making the decision to go through with it. I imagine he was hoping Near might catch onto Light & Mikami's plan himself, and would take measures to stop it, but the details given to him by Halle confirmed that this was not the case.

and the other thing this shows, to me, is that Mello intended to die. he knew he had to sacrifice himself for the plan rather than calling in a stand-in, and I think there are several reasons for that. one, there’s the fact that it would be extremely difficult for him to find a stand-in, since he clearly did not want Matt to die, the whole mafia was already gone, and he didn’t have the legal power that L did to find a death row inmate or even just the general connections to call in someone he considers expendable - not to mention how incredibly short notice this is. there’s also the fact that his name is out there, and he knows that, so he probably thinks there’s a high risk he will die or be imprisoned regardless, so at least this way, he’s dying for a cause. and I think it’s also important to remember that even though he hates Near, he believes that Near is better than him. he was raised on that belief; it’s been drilled into him since he was a kid. that’s why he hates Near. so even though he’s dedicated his entire life to beating Near, I do think in a situation like this, where he thinks that one of them is going to die, he would probably assume it’s better to be him.

#i think i did an analysis of this a year or so ago but it’s been a while and i've been thinking about this a lot more lately because of #the aforementioned fic #so i feel like i have a slightly different perspective now #death note #mello #mihael keehl

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cowboymater · 2 years ago

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controversial opinion maybe:

I KNOW. i know. hear me out

i saw a couple edits on tiktok of mcspirk to soldier poet king and like. i’m not putting anyone on blast but good lord some of those choices made my head hurt. it’s taken me a couple days to synthesize my reasoning for the superior choice (as pictured above), but here goes:

the problem with assigning characters to soldier poet king comes when you take it at face value, flattening the paradigm to angry-sad-tired or violent-artsy-authoritative. if we want to get down to the root of it, the song is based on the threefold office of christ as priest (soldier), prophet (poet), and king. like i’m not christian, but on a textual level it gives us context: the concept that as prophet jesus gave us counsel and words of wisdom, as priest he sacrificed himself to redeem us, and as king he provides for, defends, and forgives us

maybe the most famous priest/prophet/king (& thus soldier/poet/king) allegory in all of literature is frodo, gandalf, and aragorn. frodo bears the burden, though he wishes he did not need to; gandalf offers words of wisdom and mercy; aragorn is a born leader, on the front lines with sword in hand, ready to die with his men if he must

KING: capt. james t. kirk is the easiest one to place. it is a burden and a privilege, an honor and a horror to have the lives of so many depend upon you to make the right call under fire. he makes the call. he leads the landing parties, he puts himself at the head of the charge because by god he is not about to send his men into a battle he wouldn’t fight himself. he leads—with heart when he can, steel when he must—and people follow him. bones and spock are always right behind because they believe in what he believes in, and more than that they believe in him

POET: bones serves as kirk’s emotional sounding board, his moral peer review. he lends an ear, and the word of an old country doctor who’s seen much and understands more. man has ascended to the heavens, to hurtling through the void in a glorified tin can, and it would be no great hardship to forget that our place in the universe is not that of higher life—we are not as quasi-gods, moving pieces on the great three-dimensional chessboard, but flesh and blood, and we must attend to each other. bones tempers the pure logos and rationality offered by spock; he offers grounding in this age of technology that wrinkles the fabric of reality, offers the kind of emotional intellect that cannot be taught, and has always been sorely needed

SOLDIER: this is the one where you really get tripped up by surface-level analysis. yes, spock is reserved and collected. yes, vulcans are pacifists (as you may recall, so are hobbits, and yet frodo remains the soldier in allegory)

the thing about vulcans, though, is that despite the vegan pacifism, they are warriors. it’s tangled up in their history and their DNA. the koon-ut-kal-if-fee survived through centuries of analytical dogma for a reason; even now, they cannot wholly escape their inheritance of violence. their forefathers ran the sands of vulcan green with blood. they venerate logic and condemn emotionality so that they will not

your average high-achieving vulcan, probably on the path to kolinahr, commits their lifetime to the pursuit of knowledge at the vulcan science academy. it’s a measured, rational decision. a controlled environment, where there will never be any logical reason to resort to violence

spock joins starfleet

he joins starfleet, and pursues knowledge in the vast unknowable universe. there is reason for violence, frequently. and sure, the purpose of their mission is peaceful. it’s true that spock would rather resolution be reached without force. but a soldier needs not want to be a soldier. he only needs go to war

when it comes down to blows, he will match them. he makes the sacrifice play, jumps on the grenade, goes into the radiation-soaked engineering room alone. it’s only logical, after all

spock is there to pick apart the universe, unravel the threads of logic until it all makes sense. bones is there to stitch it up. kirk is the hand that holds it all steady, the gravitational field that binds the people of the enterprise to their purpose. soldier-poet-king, commander-doctor-captain. it’s a story old as dirt, and we’ll keep telling it, i think

edit: my bad vulcans have. green blood

#puts on my “no one understands these characters like i do” hat #spock. (raucous applause)#star trek #star trek tos #star trek the original series #jim kirk #spock #bones mccoy #character analysis #soldier poet king #the oh hellos #lotr mention #longpost #mcspirk #triumvirate #txt

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housethemd · 11 months ago

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Come in from the Cold

House/Wilson established relationship

Written based on a prompt from @griffin-11

This wasn’t what I was expecting to write when I got the prompt, but it’s what happened!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bite of early January always sinks into his bones in a way he can’t shake. The trip from the car to the apartment takes twice as long as it does in other seasons, lest he slip on the icy ground. No amount of complaints to the building’s management about the state of the steps in the wintertime have any effect. They insist the stairs are perfectly passable, which may be true for the even footed but are treacherous to his uneven gait.

Snowflakes flutter to the ground, fluffy and large, adding the existing two feet of snow already on the ground. For a moment he remembers winters from a decade ago. When weather such as this would mean a trip to upstate New York, to a ski resort where he and Wilson would spend weekends on the slopes. Wilson skied, but he always prefered snowboarding. He liked the speed, the balance it required, the feeling of the wind burning his cheeks as he hurdled towards the bottom of the hill, the satisfaction he got from safely reaching the bottom of the difficult hills, having dodged trees and other obstacles the whole way down. But those days are long behind him now, and the memory stings almost as much as the cold.

Every second spent outside is painful, as even his long wool coat can’t protect the crater in his thigh from the sub-zero temperatures. A mess of missing muscle and over sensitive nerve endings, the cold burns bright hot. He limps heavily up the few stairs into the building, doing his best to strike a balance between speed, safety, and keeping pain to a minimum. When he finally breaches the threshold into 221 Baker Street he lets the door fall shut behind him, and leans on it heavily.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

He grips his thigh tightly, desperately trying to rub the stiff burning from what remains of his leg, as the mantra plays in his mind. Wilson always tried to get him to breathe through the pain. He always argued that it was new age bull crap, right up there with auras and chakras. Breathing wouldn’t regrow this missing muscle, breathing wouldn’t fix the damaged nerves, and breathing certainly wouldn’t get rid of the mangled mess of partially numb, partially hypersensitive scar tissue that marred his right thigh. Still, he tries. Wilson doesn’t know he tries when Wilson isn’t around, and he always gripes when Wilson makes him try, but he tries all the same because that’s what people in relationships do. They try.

When the breathing mumbo jumbo doesn’t work he reaches into his pocket to pull out his Vicodin bottle and dry swallow two of the white, chalky tablets. The bitter taste promises some relief, though he knows it will only do so much. His leg will take hours to warm up, and only then will the pain reduce to its usual daily level. He really hates Winter.

Sucking a breath through his teeth he limps slowly towards his door, pausing to pull out his keys he can hear the puttering sounds of Wilson moving about their now shared apartment. He was unsure about Wilson moving in, his one and only stint with cohabitation had been with Stacy, but had since found it was not completely terrible. It was nice not being alone all the time, and Wilson was probably the only person in the world he could stand to have around all the time, though he’d never say that out loud.

When he enters the apartment Wilson pops out from the kitchen, smiling fondly.

“Oh wipe that look off your face. You saw me three hours ago.” He scoffs, shucking his coat and letting it fall to the ground.

The apartment smells like Wilson’s cooking. The living room is tidy in a lived-in sort of way. Wilson is dressed in sweats and his McGil sweatshirt, but is barefoot. The entire scene is so warm and domestic it warms his heart and makes him nauseous in equal measure.

“What? A guy can’t look happy when a handsome man walks into his home?” Wilson asks, arms crossed.

“Sure he can. He just can’t look happy when an old, misanthropic, cripple walks into his home.” He shoots back.

“Oh right. I always confuse those two.” Wilson smiles, leaning on the door jam and throwing the dish towel he had been holding over his shoulder.

House managed to remove his shoe from his right foot, but as he shifts his weight onto his right leg and cane to remove his left he has to stop, a pained noise slipping unbidden past his lips as pain shoots through him. Wilson is beside him in an instant, one hand on his back and the other on his chest, ready to support his weight should he need it.

“Hey hey hey, what’s going on?” Wilson asked gently.

“Stupid cold weather. Cripples don’t do well in the cold.” He grumbled, not meeting Wilson’s eyes.

“Alright well let’s get you off your feet. You're inside now, so the pain should lessen up soon, yeah?” Wilson tried to encourage.

Wilson knew the cold bothered him, but House had never really been clear to what extent. He weighed his options now, agreeing that he would soon feel better and spend the rest of the evening trying to hide his pain or admitting that the cold made things worse than he’d let on. On the one hand he could keep a little bit of his dignity, but would likely end the evening fighting with Wilson over something stupid. On the other hand Wilson would enter full caring mode, and spend the evening doting on him, and that always gave him a weird feeling in the bit of his stomach.

“It… takes a while for my leg to warm up. Damaged blood vessels and nerves. I thought you were a doctor? Just, let me go to bed.” He grumbled, staring at the floor.

“Wouldn’t a hot bath help? Or at least a heating pad?” Wilson reached out to rub circles on his shoulder.

“No. Too much heat at once makes it worse, just let me go to bed, dammit!” He snapped, and it seemed that his honesty still resulted in a stupid fight.

Wilson said nothing, but supported his weight from the door to the bedroom. As soon as House was seated on the bed he turned and left. With a deep sigh House stripped down to his boxers and climbed under the blankets. He winced when he swung his right leg onto the mattress, pain shooting down into the rest of his leg. He closed his eyes, naming infectious diseases in alphabetical order in an attempt to distract himself to sleep. His leg was killing him and he had a pissed off boyfriend in the other room, sleep was truly his best option at this point.

He’s just starting to get through the B’s when the bed dips behind him.

Wilson has stripped down to his boxers as well, and is carrying what appears to be every blanket they own in his arms. He begins pulling them over the bed, over the lump of House’s body. Creating heavy layers that aren’t at all unpleasant.

“What are you doing?” House asked, trying to sound annoyed.

“Warming you up.” Wilson replied.

“Then why are you practically naked?”

Wilson just smiles, and as the last blanket is smoothed out over the bed he slides underneath them, curling his body around House’s. Wilson radiates warmth, and House can admit it’s nice, though it will be awhile before the heat sinks into his leg. He’s about to say as much when Wilson places one large, warm hand over the scar on his leg. The body temperature heat isn’t enough to aggravate the nerves, but is enough to soothe them. Wilson runs hotter than House, apparently just enough hotter that his body can provide a small amount of relief to his painful leg.

“How's that?” Wilson asked, breath tickling the hairs on the back of House’s neck.

“It’s fine. Weren’t you doing something when I got home?” House questioned, pretending not to enjoy having his boyfriend as his personal heater.

“Nothing that can’t wait. Nothing more important than this.”

House feels strangely choked up. He hates when Wilson does this to him. He shouldn’t be getting emotional over a cuddle session in bed, no matter how much it helps his pain. He opts to say nothing, but feels Wilson smile against his skin regardless.

“Go to sleep, House.”

The pressure of the blankets, the feeling of Wilson’s body against him, and the warmth of his hand radiating into his scarred thigh have his eyes feeling heavy. He slips into sleep with the sound of Wilson’s breathing as a lullaby.

#housethemd writes #house md #james wilson #hate crimes md #greg house #hilson #dr house #dr wilson #wilson x house #house/wilson #gregory house #house md fanfiction #hilson fanfic

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thewritetofreespeech · 10 months ago

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Hello first of all happy new year I would like a request from Ror of Hades, Poseidon, Loki and Apollo with the daughter of Anubis she is the envy of Aphrodite who surpasses her in beauty but when the god meets his father and grandfather who are Seth and anubis are scared because they measure 2 meters and are terrifying please

He’s of course met Anubis and Seth before. All elder gods knew each other. Especially ones of death.

Hades had always found both of them to be charming and polite, so he wasn’t nervous on meeting them in this context. He thought there wouldn’t be an issue. Boy was he wrong….

Hades is more just confused why they are giving him the 3rd degree. Like….you know me….

He takes it in stride though and tries to be polite. Perhaps it was naïve of him to think that dating their ‘baby’ wouldn’t change anything.

Poseidon is less of a ‘take it in stride’ kind of person.

He finds this display of intimidation, raising their size & voices, childish. No real God would resort to such theatrics to get their point across.

After a few minutes, he just leaves. He isn’t going to entertain this and he doesn’t need their permission to keep seeing s/o. This was a pointless, but polite gesture.

He gives s/o the choice to stay with them or come with him, but the option is clear on ‘it’s one or the other’.

He thinks it’s hilarious.

Loki and Nub-y are really good friends. So the fact that he’s all bristled up because he’s dating his daughter is just too funny.

Add in old man Seth to the mix, who he has literally seen prank Zeus on more than one occasion, and he has to keep himself from laughing on the floor.

In the end, it turns out fine. Not that any of this really mattered as Loki would keep seeing s/o regardless. But it is funny that they tried.

Apollo isn’t nervous at all.

He’s certain that his charm will win them over, like anyone else. All he has to do is smile and make small talk, and Anubis & Seth will be so happy to have him as part of the family.

When he gets their though, and sees their huge size and that they are not happy and not in a joking mood, his plan falls out the window and he gets a little anxious.

Still, as always, Apollo charms his way through. It works, in the end, but it took more work for the afternoon than Apollo was willing to put in. He’ll need a break from visiting the in-laws for a while.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#record of ragnarok #record of ragnorak #record of ragnarok hc #ror headcanons #ror hc #hades #ror hades #record of ragnarok hades #apollo #ror apollo #record of ragnarok apollo #loki #ror loki #record of ragnarok loki #poseidon #ror poseidon #record of ragnarok poseidon #headcanons

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part-time-zombie · 6 months ago

Text

Old Habits

pairings: anxceit (platonic, can be seen as romantic)

summary: virgil remembers how to deal with nightmares and panic attacks, and he doesn't want to remember who used to be there to help him. janus isn't forgetting anytime soon.

tags: panic attack, probably poorly described, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, janus still cares, virgil wishes he didn't

word count: 1711

a/n: i wrote this after reading a post(?) saying how you can deal with anxiety/panic attacks by sucking on an ice cube so the cold shocks you out of the panic, and i decided to use it for this fic.

Virgil was used to nightmares. He’s had to deal with them for most if not all of his life, and by now he’d gotten used to bolting awake in the middle of the night, heart pounding in his ears. When that happens, he usually only needs a minute or two to get a hold of himself before he can lie back down and go back to bed. Sometimes, he needs to resort to more extreme measures. Music helps, as does pacing back and forth down the hall until his nerves finally ease up. Still, he remembers the nights when he’d all but fall out of bed, breathless and panicked and in desperate need of proof that he was alright. Those nights used to be easier before.

Tonight is one of those nights, with a particularly terrible dream haunting him even after he woke up with a scream trapped in his throat. He looked around the room, seeing nothing but danger in every shadow and corner. He wasn’t safe here, he needed to get out.

Throwing the sheets aside and standing on shaky legs, Virgil stumbled to his door and all but fell into the wall on the other side of the hall with a painfully loud thud. Sliding numbly down the wall, he collapsed limply to the floor, the impact forcing a gasp from him. He tried to think past his own pounding heartbeat and the tightness in his chest to get his bearings. He needs to get up. The others could have heard him, they’ll wake up and see him like this and it’ll only get worse. He needs to go, if not to his room then downstairs to the living room. He can ride the rest of this out on the couch there.

One look at the stairs left him reeling. Bad idea, there was no way he would be able to make it down those without falling and breaking his neck. He can’t stay here, though. He has to at least try to stand, before he gets seen by-

“Virgil?”

Janus’ visage crept into his periphery, and Virgil felt like the world was going to end. Why did it have to be Janus? It could have been anyone else and he wouldn’t have complained, but it had to be Janus that found him like this. As if tonight couldn’t get any worse.

“Another nightmare, I gather?” Janus asked.

Virgil couldn’t respond even if he wanted to. His chest was tight and his heart was pounding in his ears and he couldn’t breathe.

“Guess so.”

Janus moved closer, eventually kneeling down until he was eye level with Virgil. There was no mockery or coldness in his eyes, only understanding.

“I’m not going to ask you to talk, but I do need you to try to breathe. Can you do that?”

Virgil did his best to nod, forcing his lungs to work even if by a little. It was tough, and almost painful to draw even a small breath, but he still tried to at least start breathing. He had to try; it was the first step in calming back down and he knew that, but getting his brain to cooperate right now was nearly impossible.

“The floor can’t be very comfortable for you. Would you rather have a breakdown on the couch or in my room? Something tells me your room would only make matters worse, but if you want we can still do that.”

Virgil tried to focus past the panicked haze in his head to think. He really doesn’t want to be in the hall. Someone would see him, well, someone else, and the floor was cold and hard and only made it harder to calm down. His bed was comfortable enough, but his mind was still insistent on it being unsafe. That’s where the nightmare was from, he’s not going back there.

Janus offered his room, and as nice as it sounded to collapse into a bed and be wrapped warmly in weighted sheets, it couldn’t be Janus’ room to do that. It just couldn’t.

The ache in his chest made the simple act of talking painful, so Virgil instead jerked his head in the direction of the stairs, hoping Janus would get the hint.

Janus understood, shifting until he was kneeling beside him. “I’m not about to have you walk while you’re like this, which means I have to carry you. Any complaints?”

Virgil had many, but it’s not like he was capable of voicing them right now. Not when it felt like his whole chest had collapsed. As long as he made it to the couch in one piece, he’d be fine. He can always sucker punch Janus for it later.

Virgil begrudgingly nodded, and Janus immediately picked him up with ease. He held Virgil in a slightly more dignified version of the princess carry, and slowly walked down the stairs, letting Virgil's head fall heavily against his chest the whole while. It was beyond embarrassing being held like this by Janus of all sides, but hearing his steady heartbeat guiding his own into a more relaxed rhythm was unfortunately very helpful, and Virgil wished he didn’t find some level of comfort from it.

Janus made it to the couch and carefully set Virgil down, giving him enough space to get comfortable again before speaking.

“Now, try to breathe again. You know you need to do that to start feeling better.”

Of course Virgil did, this happens all the damn time. The problem is, it’s hard to do anything when he can hardly think, and right now it felt like his lungs were being squeezed so tightly they’d explode. He couldn’t try to breathe right now; he could hardly think about anything other than the horrible pain in his chest.

Janus seemed to notice, as he sighed and straightened back up.

“Right. Just keep trying and I’ll be right back, alright?” he said, before walking off somewhere behind him.

For the briefest of moments Virgil felt himself panic at his sudden absence, but he tried his best to focus on his breathing instead. Why the hell should he be upset about Janus leaving? It’s not like they’re close, he has no reason to care about him. God, he’s probably waking Remus up so he can make things worse. They’ll both come back and laugh so loudly that the others will wake up too. Virgil felt his lungs burning from a lack of oxygen, and he realized all too quickly that he had stopped breathing again. He couldn’t breathe. Janus left him, he’s going to make this worse, he’s going to let him die here on the couch, he’s-

“Didn’t I tell you to keep breathing?” Janus teased, returning to his side. Virgil noticed he was alone, with no one else there to make a scene.

“I was just getting something, alright? Let’s try to breathe again, shall we?”

Virgil could hardly listen to what he was saying, but he knew he had to get his lungs to work again. Closing his eyes and focusing as best as he could, he forced as much air as possible into his lungs. Granted it wasn’t a lot, and it hurt like hell, but it was a start.

“That’s it, now try to say something for me.”

Virgil opened his mouth to at least try to talk, only to feel something startlingly cold forced past his lips. He gasped, trying to spit it out, but Janus held his hand firmly over his mouth before he could even try.

“It’s ice from the freezer, sweetie. I’m not trying to kill you or anything. I know it’s cold, and that’s the point. Focus on that and nothing else.”

How the hell could he think about anything other than that? The ice was almost painfully cold, and he was forced to swallow the melting water as it thawed in his mouth. His lungs opened up, working to regulate the sudden shift in internal temperature, and Virgil felt his heart eventually slow down as a result. The longer the ice stayed in his mouth, the more he found himself focusing on the cold instead of the nightmare from earlier and the fear that followed. In fact, it was getting far easier to breathe, and the realization reminded Virgil to take deeper breaths, much to Janus’ approval.

By the time the ice had fully melted, Virgil was finally breathing normally again. Janus withdrew his hand with a smile, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil said with a nod. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Now what do you say to a drink?”

Virgil looked over at him, where he was already holding a glass of ice water.

Now that he mentioned it, Virgil was awfully thirsty. He shrugged before taking the glass in a slightly shaky hand and drinking heartily, poorly feigning an attempt at looking nonchalant.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to tell me what had you so spooked?”

“You guessed correctly,” Virgil rasped in response, the glass already nearly empty by the time he had finished his drink. “I also don’t want to talk about tonight with you later. As far as I’m concerned, it didn’t happen at all.”

“It’s not like anything different happened.”

“That’s the thing. This used to be normal, stuff like this happening between us, but now…“ Virgil sighed. “Now I just don’t know.”

Janus gave him a soft look, one that almost looked hurt. “Why not? This new normal doesn’t have to destroy what we had before. Who’s to say we can’t fall back into routine every now and then? I’ve already looked past everything that happened between us. The only one holding a grudge here is you.”

“Can you blame me?”

Janus sighed, eyes downcast. “No, I suppose not. Just know, I’ll still be around if you ever need me. I still remember what to do for you, and I’ll always help you out.”

“Why?”

Janus gave him a small but wistful smile. “Old habits.”

With that he rose from his seat and returned to his room, leaving Virgil by himself on the couch. Even after all this time, Janus still knew him. Virgil almost wished he didn’t.

@lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie @new-zee-land @rougeside4 @britt-ish123 @nico-the-overlord @can-i-take-a-stab @keitaisghost @yuckypuppie

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #my fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #angst #sanders sides angst #i hope this is good

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sir-davey · 5 months ago

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hey just found your stuff and im obsessed. if youre willing could you please talk a little bit more abt your ideas with like. an evil johnathan

Ack, thank you! ^^ and ofc!! I’m glad you asked!! I’ll be going on a tangent about this since I am filled to the brim with ideas of an evil Jonathan :’) Where he’s extremely obsessive for David, to the point of manipulation and hurting him in the process/breaking their covenant.

And story/drama wise, I’ve definitely come up with a lot of ideas within these narratives loll. Since an evil Jonathan au is such an interesting idea to explore!! I usually take him being more obsessive of David. He sees David easy to manipulate and to love, someone he can hold onto, therefore he presents himself to David as the only person David can depend on. He uses their covenant to be “bound” with him, and wants David just for himself and nothing more, to the point of insanity. That’s right. Basically, I have Jonathan to be so obsessed, to where he loves David as much as Saul hates him.

It’s mainly because Jonathan has no hope at this point, and he needs something to hold onto. He’s been brought up as Israel’s prince, and is constantly pressured by his father, yet he is left with no purpose after G-d and Samuel stripped away the kingdom. He watches as his father’s mind deteriorates while his house crumbles around him. But then there’s David. Jonathan wants to hate him, but David is too good in his eyes to be hated. With David, he finds a purpose. He can feel loved, devoted, and be able to use him. David was his last resort. Yet, all of this adds up to his chronic obsession, leading him to harm and even kill those keeping him from David, or anyone who seeks David’s demise, like his father.

Jonathan just becomes more unhinged as time passes, and I have him literally become like Saul the more he pursues after David out of desire to have him. He will not let him go whatsoever. And seeing Jonathan’s obsession, David begins to fear him. And well, I can say that Jonathan wouldn’t take this lightly at all… and he’ll manipulate him to an extent in various ways, even to the point of harming him at desperate measures… but to the point when his sanity absolutely crumbles.

Since he has nothing to look to other than taking up the Lord’s anointed, the chosen king, into his own hand, being able to control and to love him for himself, would ‘cause Jonathan’s spiral into obsessive madness.

And that’s usually my take on evil Jonathan LOL, but I also have another au where Saul convinces Jonathan enough to hate David, and to kill him, when Jonathan chooses his father’s loyalty over David’s in order to protect his house from David’s house threatening him. And of course, this comes with a lot of tension you’d expect between David and Jonathan. But also, I have Jonathan again try and manipulate David with his love, but out of deceit. The more he knows about David, the better chance he and his father has of killing him. Knowing David and everything about him as he gains his trust with his love will make Jonathan 10x as dangerous as Saul.

And that’s my usual take ackk 😭 and oh boi, and I do have ANOTHER au, but this au is like two aus combined where Jonathan survives and becomes king, but his sanity wavers from all the pressure around him. I haven’t really fleshed out that idea yet, but I’m just saying, I have thought about that one as well! Which goes to show how many aus I can come up with this idea lollll. It’s so fun honestly <33

Aghh, I rambled a lot did I? 🥲 hehe, but those were just some of the ideas I have! <3 I like coming up with aus, and I have even more lmao

#bible fandom #jonathan #au #evil au #ask #book of samuel #david and jonathan #rambling

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cuddlepilefics · 1 year ago

Text

“What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?“ + Preventative measures not taken

Fandom: Ateez

Sickie: Wooyoung

Caregivers: Mainly Seonghwa & Yeosang

Prompts: @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Now that summer was slowly coming to an end, Seonghwa was working hard to make sure the group was well prepared for the colder seasons to come. Since they were still travelling a lot and interacted with so many people, there’d naturally be a pretty high risk of the members catching some bug, which would be incredibly inconvenient to their schedules. Besides, living in such close proximity, illness usually spread like wildfire within the group, so they should really make sure all of them were in good health. Seonghwa was the most adamant about making their lifestyle as healthy as it could be with the long working hours and little amount of sleep. Not having to worry about the members not exercising enough, he merely reminded them not to skip out on the veggies in their meals and to not stay up unnecessarily late if it wasn’t for their work.

He eventually got his hands on some ginger shots, which were supposed to boost the immune system and would hopefully keep the members from falling ill. Sure, they didn’t taste that great and some of the members made sure to tell him that every morning but they usually just knocked the back to get it over with. Hongjoong would rarely ever let himself be stopped from working late no matter how hard Seonghwa tried to get him to rest, so if it put his hyung’s mind at ease, the leader would gladly accept the ginger shot. The only one complaining about it every morning was Wooyoung. There had even been a fight one morning, the dancer still half asleep as they had to head out to their schedule. He couldn’t be bothered with something that disgusting so early in the morning. Wanting to keep the peace, Seonghwa dropped the topic but eventually realized how his dongsaeng had started to adjust his daily routine to ensure he’d already be gone from the dorm by the time the rest of the group had to get up and ready. Wooyoung simply didn’t see a point in drinking such a vile tasting liquid. Sure, it had the reputation of being healthy but so were vegetables. If he made sure to always add some veggies to his meals, he’d be fine.

Not wanting the other to go without his daily dose of vitamins, Seonghwa had resorted to measuring some of the ginger shots into little bottles, which he carried around with him. That way, he could give them to Wooyoung one per day, though he knew the younger wasn’t too enthusiastic about them. “Hyung, seriously, I have a good immune system and I eat all my veggies. I don’t need some weird potion to stay healthy. I can do that on my own”, the dancer argued when Seonghwa approached him during one of their practice sessions. He knew his hyung was only trying to watch out for him but he sure was a bit pushy.

Though annoyed, Wooyoung eventually accepted the small bottle but when the oldest wasn’t looking, he simply slipped it into his bag before continuing with their practice. The dancer wouldn’t have thought it that easy to fool Seonghwa but somehow it worked, so he continued accepting the ginger shots when his hyung handed them to him only to make them disappear. It was only when Yeosang glanced at his friend’s open bag one evening when they returned to their room that someone noticed. “Hang on”, the older chuckled, “You’re not taking those ginger shots?” Though the tips of his ears turned pink at being caught, Wooyoung shook his head. When Yeosang raised an eyebrow at him, he explained: “I absolutely can’t stand the taste nor can I stand the way it makes my throat burn. My immune system is good already, so the discomfort isn’t worth it.” – “You’re not wrong”, Yeosang hummed, his lips twitching into a smile, “It does taste gross. I always drink lots of water after to rinse it down. It’s good for me and if it eases hyung’s mind a little, why not….” He wouldn’t tell his friend what to do though as he figured everyone should choose how to take care of themselves.

Seonghwa was proud to say that so far, none of the members had caught as much as a little cold. All of them seemed to be on top of their health. Well, the members he saw anyway. He hadn’t seen Wooyoung in quite sometime and only for short durations. They had alternating schedules and the younger was barely around the dorm, so Seonghwa couldn’t be sure but figuring his dongsaeng was drinking his ginger shots like everyone else there was no reason he shouldn’t be well. Wooyoung however hadn’t been feeling too great for the past two days. Having woken up to a sore throat, he had decided to skip his early morning workout and instead stop by a small café before meeting up with the others for their schedule. He ordered himself some tea along with a small breakfast, so he’d hopefully have the energy to get through a full day of work.

When they met up for dance practice, Yeosang greeted him quietly. They were stretching next to each other, so the older hummed: “You got enough sleep last night, Woo? Those circles under your eyes look rather dark.” – “I’m kinda tired but it’s alright”, Wooyoung whispered, afraid his friend would notice his voice sounding a little rough if he tried to speak up. Plus, he didn’t want any of the members catching on to him not being on top of his game. It wasn’t hard to catch on though. San too did so pretty fast. Of course, he’d notice Wooyoung being quiet, even more so when the younger wasn’t fooling around with him during the breaks at all. Since Wooyoung obviously wasn’t in the mood for their usual bickering, San took a seat next to him during one of the breaks. Without a word, Wooyoung downed a few sips of water before dropping his head onto his hyung’s shoulder. “You okay?”, San asked softly as he linked their fingers. Not thinking himself able to lie to the older, Wooyoung admitted: “My head hurts a bit.”

He startled when cold fingers grazed his cheek. “I mean, we’re all warm from dancing but I don’t know. You do feel like you might be running a fever”, San whispered, making sure Wooyoung was the only one able to hear him. The younger gave the tiniest of nods. It was pretty likely that he had a fever with the way his body ached and how weak his muscles felt. He had gotten lightheaded a bunch of times too, so he was pretty sure San’s guess was on. Gently squeezing his friend’s hand, San hummed: “You shouldn’t be practicing then. Do you want me to tell hyungs, so you can go home and rest?” Wooyoung tiredly shook his head, closing his eyes to give them a break from the bright ceiling light. “I’d get scolded for refusing to take precautions”, he breathed, rubbing his temples. When San looked at him confused, he added: “I didn’t listen to Seonghwa-hyung and don’t wanna hear his ‘I told you so’.”

Yeosang was no fool either. He knew Wooyoung was feeling worse than he would let on and the glossy look in his eyes clearly indicated a fever. Not wanting to call him out in front of the group, all Yeosang could do was make sure the younger drank enough water. By the time their practice session was over, Wooyoung was certain he had sweat out all the water he had drunk. His shirt clung to his body and his hair was plastered to his forehead. He couldn’t help but shiver as the aircon blew cold air down on him. Sweaty as he was, there was no way he could attend the rest of their schedule without taking a shower first, so while the rest of the group went to eat lunch, he rushed back to the dorm to take a quick shower.

Cringing as he peeled off his sweaty shirt, Wooyoung glanced at the mirror and was shocked at how awful he looked. Yeosang had put it lightly when talking about the bags under his eyes. Wooyoung quickly took his temperature and sighed at the reading before stepping into the shower. He set the water temperature lower than he would’ve liked, hoping to bring his fever down a bit. Maybe if he wasn’t burning up, his head wouldn’t hurt as badly. His plan backfired badly and Wooyoung found himself trembling with chills as he stepped out of the shower. No matter how tightly he wrapped the towel around himself, it just wouldn’t warm him in the slightest. Desperate to get warm again, he hurried to dry off and get dressed. His head pounded as he coughed into his towel trying to get rid of the itch in his throat. There’d barely be any time for him to eat before he’d have to attend the next part of his schedule but he really should get something into his stomach, just for the sake of taking medicine.

Exiting the bathroom, Wooyoung put his hood up to cover his damp hair when he almost had a heart attack. There at the dining table stood Seonghwa unpacking a takeout bag. “Holy shit! Hyung, you scared me”, Wooyoung gasped, touching his chest. He himself was shocked at how scratchy his voice had come out, avoiding eye contact as he feared the other’s reaction. Snorting at the comment, Seonghwa asked: “Well, I did bring you lunch, though I’m kinda curious…. What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?” Utterly speechless, Wooyoung could only stare at the older. “I’m not dumb, you know”, Seonghwa sighed, stepping forward to feel his dongsaeng’s forehead, “Hongjoong cleared your schedule for the rest of today and tomorrow. We’ll see how you feel by then but for now, the best you can do is get some rest.” Wooyoung still avoided eye contact, feeling ashamed of himself. The fever might have played a role too but he couldn’t help the tears spilling down his flushed cheeks.

Wooyoung expected his hyung to be mad at him, so he tensed when he was pulled into a hug. “I picked up some soup, so please eat something and take medicine, yeah?”, Seonghwa whispered, rubbing the dancer’s back, “I hate seeing any of you in pain and I know I can be overbearing at times but please take care of yourself.” Afraid his voice would crack if he spoke, Wooyoung only nodded against the other’s shoulder. Sadly, Seonghwa couldn’t stay much longer as his lunchbreak was almost over. The younger couldn’t help but let a few more tears fall as he was alone again. He hated to be alone when he wasn’t feeling well but to be fair, it was partly his own fault that he wasn’t feeling well. This time, Wooyoung would listen to his hyung though. Sniffling back his tears, he slowly ate his soup before downing some medicine. He wasn’t sure, he’d be able to sleep though. Shuffling to their room, Wooyoung opened Yeosang’s closet and pulled out one of his friend’s sweaters. If the older couldn’t cuddle him right now, he’d have to cuddle something that smelled like him.

Seonghwa was deep in thought as he went about his schedule, so he startled when a hand appeared on his shoulder. “What’s on your mind, hyung?”, Yeosang asked quietly as he took a seat next to the oldest. Furrowing his brows, Seonghwa muttered: “How did Woo manage to get sick while nobody else is?” – “Haven’t you guessed?”, the younger chuckled, “Did you ever see him drink his ginger shots?” It finally dawned on Seonghwa and the oldest rested his head in his hands, realizing he should’ve watched instead of trusting the dancer to drink it. “You know how some children have a strong hatred for brushing their teeth, especially with adult toothpaste?”, Yeosang hummed, “It’s not necessarily the act of doing so, that’s the problem but rather the intense taste of the toothpaste. Give them some strawberry-flavored kids toothpaste and suddenly it isn’t so bad….” – “You mean he always argued about it because of the taste and not because he truly believed his immune system to be that great”, Seonghwa asked, finally putting the pieces together. The younger nodded. He knew his friend quite well after all those years, so he could tell: “He tolerates ginger tea with lemon but only if you put lots of honey in it. Without the sweetness, he can’t stand the taste.”

That was exactly what Yeosang prepared as soon as they got back to the dorm. Steaming cup in hand, he went to the room he shared with Wooyoung and Jongho. “Woo?”, Yeosang hummed as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. He smiled when he realized what the younger was cuddling with. Placing the cup onto the nightstand, Yeosang felt his friend’s forehead, displeased to find it still hot to the touch. Wooyoung groaned as he stretched his sore body, rasping: “You’re back.” – “Mhm, you’re not doing much better, hm?”, the older cooed, brushing a strand of hair out of the other’s face. Still sleepy, Wooyoung shook his head, giving a hoarse whine when Yeosang teasingly tugged on the sweater he was holding. “How about I give you some real cuddles once I’ve taken a shower?”, he offered, getting to his feet, so he could pick out some fresh clothes. Sniffling into his sleeve, Wooyoung pouted: “Please, I’ve been lonely all afternoon.” – “Aigoo, I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”, Yeosang cooed, giving the younger a short wave before disappearing to the bathroom.

As Wooyoung waited for his friend to return, the bedroom door opened and Seonghwa quietly slipped into the room. “Hey, how are you feeling, Woo?”, the oldest asked, feeling Wooyoung’s forehead. The dancer only gave an uncertain shrug but relaxed into the cool touch. Carefully combing the younger’s hair back with his fingers, Seonghwa draped a cool washcloth over the boy’s forehead and hummed: “Might help bring your fever down a bit or at least soothe the headache.” – “Thanks, hyung. ‘m sorry for being difficult”, Wooyoung breathed, avoiding the other’s eyes. “You’re not being difficult”, Seonghwa disagreed in a soft tone, “Why didn’t you tell me you struggle with the ginger taste so much?” – “’s embarrassing”, the younger slurred, avoiding eye contact. Pulling something from his pocket, Seonghwa smiled: “A little childish maybe but so are you. I picked up some vitamin gummies on the way home. They’re supposed to taste like candy, so they might be easier for you to take.” Wooyoung thanked him quietly, relaxing as his hyung played with his hair till Yeosang arrived to give the cuddles he had promised.

#fanfic #fluff #comfort #fanfiction #sick #sickfic #sicktember2023 #sicktember 2023 #ateez #atiny #woosang #woowha #woosan

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