#you need to come back down before your wings melt and you crash

[bigassbowlingballhead]

a general fandom problem is people expect the subject material to be more than it is. they want to believe this is the greatest piece of media ever created. this piece of media can do no wrong. this piece of media is going to change and fix everything wrong with them. When that's simply not the case for any major media. media is human created, so by it's very nature it is flawed. a single piece of media is never going to give you everything you want from it. expecting it to give you more and getting upset when it doesn't, i'm sorry that's your own fault. the sooner people come to this realization (they won't) the better fandom as a whole will be. you have to let the media simply be what it is. and what that is most of the time is a mid show that's consumed us. and that's okay. love that mid show for being mid. don't try to make it be more than it is.

[rae-writes]

the things we [didn't] forget about

om boys x reader

wc : 2.k

warnings : angst, hurt-comfort, depictions of lesson 16, non-detailed panic attack+ptsd

synopsis : Even things locked away and forgotten can be remembered by the body that experienced it

It all happened so sudden. But terror can do that to a person. 

Terror is cold and dark and it curls around someone like a viper; encasing their ankles so they can’t run, slithering up their legs to squeeze at their abdomen so hard it feels like they’re going to be sick, winding around and around their chest so tight they can’t breathe, and even tighter around their neck so every cry for help is lodged inside. 

Terror doesn’t end there, either. It festers inside of them, flowing through their veins and arteries— ice cold so they begin to shiver, though their bodies are confused when they begin to sweat from the panic. 

And suddenly, that viper unravels, bringing every feeling rushing back to that person all at once- so fast it sends their mind crashing to figure out exactly what is happening and what they’re really feeling and what’s actually real and are they even safe— 

It was only a couple seconds. Only a couple seconds where the body freezes up and this domino effect of emotions lines up before tipping into a hysterical reaction.  It’s overwhelming; and that’s when the sound comes out.

Mephisto had simply thrown a tape measure over your head from behind, swiftly and casually pulling it taut around your neck to get your measurements for the choker that would be going with your festival outfit. 

Yet no matter how gentle his actions were, no matter how non-restricting the tape measure was, the feeling hurdled you right back to that night. 

The night of your death. The night Belphie killed you. 

And you let out a blood curdling scream. 

The common room around you melted into the attic, the thin measuring tape being replaced by Belphie’s tail slyly sliding around your neck from behind before tightening and crushing your windpipe. 

You knew it wasn’t real. You’d moved past that night, forgiven Belphie, made amends. The nightmares ended, the anxiety of being close to the sloth demon became none— you had overcome the incident. 

But as you tripped backwards over your own two feet, screaming and crying and scrambling even further back, you think that maybe you hadn’t forgotten. Maybe you’d just buried it deep, deep down, not wanting to ever think of it again; the memory was still there, however. Still in full color with full intensity. 

For a moment, the others might’ve been confused. Scared, worried, startled. But when your hands shot up to check over your throat, fingers poking and prodding at the skin to make sure everything was still as it should be, they knew.

†

Lucifer, for the first time, doesn’t think about his actions as he moves, covering your body with his own as his wings shield you from your surroundings. His feet moved on their own, body driven by the sole instinct- the need- to just protect you. Even if there was nothing to physically protect you from, even if he couldn’t reach into your mind and just erase the bad memories, he shields you with his body because he wants you to know he’s there. He’s there and he’s not going to let anything past him until you’re ready because you are all that’s on his mind right now, all that’s at the forefront of his heart right now, and so he’ll stay right there on the floor with you pressed against him like glue for as long as you want; even when your cries stop and you relax in his hold, he won’t move until you’re ready to get up. His fingers brush away hair from your face, cradling your cheeks as he keeps you hidden away in his wings, feathers brushing over your skin softly every time exhales. He’s not going anywhere, this, he can promise.

Mammon was by your side in an instant, arms winding around you comfortingly to pull you into his lap, cradling you so gently and so softly. He forces his scent to envelop you, for his voice to be the only one you hear, for his warmth to seep into your skin until you’re able to look up at him with swollen eyes. He’s drying all your tears, cooing sweet nothings because dammit, he couldn’t protect you when it actually happened, so he’s sure as hell going to protect you now. His fingers caress your neck, soothing over the red lines you caused, tapping almost playfully over your pulse point; his voice comes out unusually soft and sweet as he pours out his heart in hopes that it’ll drown out the darkness you’re facing. He loves you so fucking much, you know? He’d do anything for you. Anything and everything, and he’s never going to leave your side, and he’s always going to try and protect you. He swears. 

Levi has the immediate instinct to run and hide, but as he listens to your cries and watches you frantically make sure your neck isn't broken, the instinct changes to wanting to run and hide with you wrapped safely in his arms. His tail curls around you, replacing the discomfort of terror, and instead making you feel protected— he might not be confident in himself, especially when he couldn’t do anything to help you last time, but he’s confident in his love for you and that makes his eyes flare in determination. Swiftly, he’ll lift you with his tail and pull you into his arms and just take you away to the safety of his bathtub-bed; here, he can protect you. Here, you can feel safe with just him and the porcelain tub wall pressed against you. Here, he can hide you away and not let anyone come through that door until you’re ready. Here- right now- he can protect you, and until you’re ready, he won’t move an inch. 

Satan is startled, as he’s used to you being the calm one while he has outbursts— he has no idea what to do at first when you begin crying, and that makes him so angry because he should know how to comfort you. But how does someone comfort a person who’s having flashbacks from when they died? With careful steps and raised hands, like he’s trying not to spook a cat, he approaches you and whispers your name as a question, scrambling to wrap you in his arms once you reach out for him. He still doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say- what to even think- so almost absentmindedly, he’ll begin reading you his favorite book aloud from just memory alone. He doesn’t know how many chapters in he gets, but he does know that once you begin to relax in his arms, he’s relaxing himself because this, now, is familiar territory but even when it’s not, he’s never going to leave you alone. Ever. 

Asmo immediately begins fretting over your poor swollen eyes and blotchy red cheeks, trying to hide away his panic so he can focus on you instead. He gently dabs at your face with his silk handkerchief, citing off as many positive uses for it before he’s at a loss when the small squared fabric is completely soaked and you’re still crying. He’ll get unusually quiet after that, clamoring his way into your lap so he can wrap as much of his body around you as he can; this is his way of protecting you. Of letting you know that no one is going to hurt you again if he’s here- they’ll have to go right through him first…you shouldn’t cry, you know? But if it’ll make you feel better when you’re done, just let it out, and he’ll be happy to pamper you afterwards! He might not know exactly what to do right now, but he’ll be here anyway. Just for you, always for you. 

Beel is frozen, unable to move as he just stares at the sight of you breaking down with wide eyes; he was there. He remembers vividly what happened, but he also knew that everyone had moved past it in some way— but seeing you like this after so long? …Slowly, maybe as to not startle you- or maybe because he’s scared himself- he lowers himself to the floor beside you and ushers you in his lap. He might not know what to say or do, but he knows how to silently comfort, and that’s exactly what he does as he absentmindedly rocks you back and forth, quietly offering you bites of his snack as you start calming down. He might not be as vocal as some of his other brothers, but his love speaks volumes through the silence, and he just loves you so much. He rests his head on top of yours and promises he’ll always be there for you. . .and, quietly so no one else can hear, he apologizes for not being there that night. Apologizes for not being quick enough, for not knowing something was wrong, for letting his twin spiral so much out of control that he snapped…he’s so sorry. But he’ll be there for the rest of time— because he loves you. 

Belphie is backing away himself, completely mortified by your reaction; he did this to you and he already made it a point of making sure you knew he’d never forgive himself, but seeing you be dragged back forcefully into that experience felt like his heart was getting ripped out of his chest. His vision was getting blurry, chest heaving with stuttering breaths as he spiraled and not even Beel could pull him out of it— the only thing that saved him from breaking down was you. You crying out for him, you reaching out for him as your sobs quieted down into soft whimpers of his name. You wanted him to comfort you, even if he was the reason you were having such a bad flashback in the first place. And so he cries loudly, dropping to his knees and shakily crawling over to you, wrapping you in his arms as he utters apology after apology. He loves you so much and he’s sorry, he’s sorry- so sorry- so, so sorry. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. 

Diavolo is a bit frazzled at first, molten hues wide in surprise before the feeling of guilt creeps over him. He’d been the one who ordered you to go back in time- he’d been so curious as to how the door opened that he hadn’t thought about the possibility of Belphegor hurting you…he also takes a slow approach, making sure you see him in your line of sight before he lowers himself to the ground. He doesn’t touch you, instead waiting for you to come to him first, but for some reason the first words that manage to come out of his mouth are ‘I’m sorry’. It almost brings tears to his own eyes when you scramble to him and try to bury yourself in his embrace, sobbing harshly against his chest; he doesn’t let you go. And he won’t, not until he knows you’re in a better state of mind. He failed you that day…but he won’t make the same mistake twice.

Barbatos was even more frazzled than Diavolo, even more guilty— because he was the one who sent you back. This is one of the rare times everyone sees him lose his composure because, truly, he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do and that scares him because you’re on the ground crying and he doesn’t know how to help you. For the first time in a really long time, he resorts to relying on his instincts rather than his head; he pulls you up in his arms, moving to settle down in a chair with you on his lap rather than being on the floor, and his fingers begin making soothing circles along the skin of your neck. He smoothes over where you accidentally scratched yourself, quietly reassuring you that he’ll be by your side and help you through it all— this, anything, and everything.

+

Simeon isn’t quite sure why you’re in such distress, but when he sees the look Lucifer has, he knows there’s a serious reason behind it. He forces his way past everyone without bothering to keep his polite smile on his face— his eyebrows are furrowed, his lips are tugged into a distressed frown, and there’s a slight shake to his hand as he softly caresses your cheek. He sends a wave of tranquility washing over you and pulls you into his arms when you slump in a sudden spell of exhaustion from his magic. There’s a searing surge of possessiveness that causes him to hold you tight and give the glare to anyone who tries to come closer; he knows it must be something to do with one of the demons because of how they’re looking at each other, so he’ll whisper assurances and promises to you as he sways you back and forth. He’s your guardian angel, remember? He’ll give everything he has to keep you safe, he promises. 

[platonic] Luke jumps when he hears you scream, eyes going wide and teary when he watches you start crying— he doesn’t know what happened and what is happening, all he knows is that you’re upset and that’s enough for him to practically fly across the room. He’s at your side in seconds, small frame latching onto you as he attempts to to fire off a million questions, but he’s starting to cry with you, so a lot of his words are jumbled. He’s so frustrated because all the demons- and even Solomon- are sharing a knowing expression, but he just doesn’t know why. It makes him cry harder but he ignores the fact that he’s doing it in front of everyone else and wobbly exclaims that he’s going to protect you! No matter what, no matter what it’s against— he’s your guardian angel! So he’s gonna be by your side against anything!

Solomon can’t help the grim expression that crosses his face, eyes stormy as he stands back and watches everyone fret over you. A strong possessive urge to protect you flares up suddenly and he also can’t help his snappy tone as he demands everyone get out of his way. He’s bringing you to your feet with magic, wrapping his arms gingerly around your waist as he turns your back to all the others in the room, making you see just him. He doesn’t try to hide the worry plastered over his face as he examines you, verifying there’s nothing physically wrong with you before focusing on reassuring you. He’s firm in the way he promises he’ll make sure nothing bad will happen to you again, swearing that he’ll protect you with every ounce of his being. He was livid when he found out what happened- and he’s livid even now knowing that you still have mental scars from it- but the only thing he can do is be there for you. And he’s going to. No one can stop him. 

Mephisto is horrified, thinking he hurt you somehow even though he’s certain he didn’t accidentally scratch you or pull the tape measure too tight. The knowing glance- and reassuring ‘you didn’t do this��� shake of the head from his lord- made him feel no less panicked, though he at least knew you weren't hurt— physically. With a quiet, almost hesitant voice, he’ll call out for you and get on his knees to softly apologize.  He’s completely out of his element when you crawl into his lap and bury your face in his neck, and yet he pulls you impossibly closer; whatever you want, whatever you need, he’ll be at your beck and call. His time, his attention, his money, his affection- it’s always been all yours and he’ll do anything to make you happy, you know that?

[gigi-loveless]

Can u do a little story on Ellie comforting reader after a panic attack? This is my first time requesting and ily and ur story's smmm!!

yes sweet angel!! thank you so much!

warnings - reader has a panic attack, nondescript reason for the event

authors note - i love you all. if you ever need support, my dms are always open for anything. anxious girlies rise 🫡

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

you don’t deserve her. you deserve nothing. you are nobody.

vision getting hazy quickly, you knock against the walls of yours and ellie’s shared apartment to signal something, anything to your girlfriend, all while fighting your body to allow you the essence of life. where is she?

“el….el!….”

the thoughts overtake your consciousness. lungs heaving, you collapse on the glacial tile of your bathroom, tugging on your hair to distract from the dizzying nightmares plaguing you.

“hey, honey i heard a crash is-“ ellie asks nonchalantly, before setting her eyes on her girlfriend, curled up on the floor, fighting for consciousness.

“hey, hey. it’s me. it’s just me.” ellie explains, sitting her back up against the bathtub, pulling you to sit upright against her chest. “it’s just me,” putting light pressure on your shoulders, your tears pattering onto her forearms. “you’re safe here. we’re at home, nothings getting through me, okay?” the auburn girl coos, breathing steadily against your back, her body practically begging for you to join in unison. to no avail, your breathing worsens, your limbs beginning to tremble. ellie gently, but quickly flips you towards her, quickly shedding herself of her rings as to not overwhelm you when she plants her hands on your cheeks tenderly.

“i know it’s scary. m’ not goin’ anywhere honey….oh, and- and chai is downstairs- and dude…he took the biggest shit today and that fucker missed the litter box….” she chuckles, your breathing slowly beginning to shakily restore itself. you girlfriend just can’t help but be a dork no matter the situation, it’s one of your absolute favorite things about her.

“you don’t need to tell me what’s wrong, but you know i’ll never judge you. i love you.” she reassures you, pressing her lips to a stray tear staining down your skin. the heavy white fog that plagued your vision softens, the familiar design of ellie’s tattoo coming into focus. you reach a quivering finger out, tracing the moths wings.

“y’want some sour gummies? tap my left hand for yes, right hand for no.”

you flick her left knuckle gently, cracking a weak smile.

“there’s my girl. here, i’ll help you.”

ellie encapsulates you in her muscular limbs, the all too familiar scent of sandalwood and citrus flooding your senses. her worn out flannel the perfect spot to find solace from your worries.

as ellie sits you down on the couch, the tortoise shell blur of your kitten races by.

“hey! c’mere you little fuck!” ellie taunts, capturing your sweet cat with a protesting meow, placing him in your lap. chai immediately curls up against you, purring gently. “now you better be nice to her.”

ellie reappears quickly with a bag of sour worms and a glass of water, pulling your legs over her lap. how attentive she is, sensing every shift in your body language, happily adjusting anything possible just to pull that heart melting smile out of you.

“t-thank you.”

“s’my job stupid. i love you.”

you giggle softly, plucking a gummy worm out of her calloused fingers.

“love you too, el.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

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[danikamariewrites]

Hello, I saw you that you write for Fourth Wing, and I just finished reading the book and I'm am just in a need for more lol.

I was wondering if you wrote for Garrick or Bodhi. A scenario in which there are having a moment with their partner but they always end up getting interrupted by the group lol 😆 until they finally kind of explode maybe fluff/smutt.

And honestly this my first time ever putting in a request. Sorry and thank you( I never really interacted within tumblr but I'm trying)

Interruptions

Bodhi x reader

A/n: after reading Iron Flame I’m so in love with Bodhi like he’s such a cutie 🥰

Warnings: suggestive

Bodhi was going to lose his fucking mind. He knew running these weapons missions with his cousin and moving up in leadership would make his free time nonexistent but not like this. Especially his time with you. He hated that he was neglecting you. The fact that you’ve been nothing but supportive made him feel even more guilty.

To say thank you for your patience Bodhi had planned a romantic moonlight picnic. Unfortunately, plans had to change since it began down pouring an hour ago. You didn’t mind sitting on a blanket on his floor. As long as you get to spend time with your boyfriend you’re happy.

Dessert has been pushed aside in favor of Bodhi being on top of you shoving your tongues down each other’s throats. Just as he moved down to suck at your pulse point and unbutton your pants a loud knock had the two of you jumping apart. He let out a frustrated groan, reluctantly getting up to open the door.

You couldn’t hear what was being said but you knew it had to be important. Bodhi wasn’t putting up a fight. He just grimaced and nodded his head. Turning to face you he had an apologetic look on his face. You give him a tight lipped sympathetic smile. Standing you fix yourself and kiss his cheek. “It’s ok babe. We’ll pick this up next time.” He nodded back giving you a quick goodbye kiss.

Two weeks of constant interruptions happened after that night. Bodhi was fucking sick of seeing Xaden or Garrick’s face at his door while you were in his bed. It was just unfair.

And when he was free you were busy going into town with your friends. Bodhi finally snapped during afternoon training. He could see you sparring with Iliana over Garrick’s shoulder. Being able to flip someone like that should not be that hot.

You had Iliana pinned under your hips, your waist straddling her midsection. She tapped out and you swing off of her, holding a hand out to help her up. A groan made its way up Bodhi’s throat.

He couldn’t stand being away from you. Not having his hands on you was killing him. Garrick was taunting him but the words weren’t registering in his brain.

Bodhi quickly put Garrick in a headlock, kicking out the back of his knees. He wasn’t prepared for how quick Bodhi would act. Before he could go further Garrick tapped his arm three times, surrendering without injury.

Bodhi let go and quickly made his way over to you. Training was over and he knew you had nothing for the rest of the day. Now was his chance to sweep you into his arms and lock you in his room. He spots Xaden in his peripheral. Before his cousin could come up to him, Bodhi sent him a snarl without breaking his pace.

You were talking to one of your squad mates when Bodhi spun you by your hips, cupping your face and crashing his lips onto yours in a desperate kiss. You immediately melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands grip your ass pulling you flush to his front.

Breaking apart you smirk up at him. “Take me to your room right now.” You pant out. Bodhi pressed his lips back to yours mumbling, “With fucking pleasure.”

[augiewrites]

"secret admirer" - dead poets society (part 5)

summary: y/n receives a curious invitation from meeks and has a surprise encounter with neil and todd

pairing: anonymous!dead poet x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.2k

previous | next

It was finally Friday, and Y/N was looking forward to spending the weekend recovering from a week of non-stop exams, cramming, and a nonexistent sleep schedule. The morning’s classes had been a drag so far, and they were looking forward to the reprieve of Keating’s class. Knowing they'd be in close proximity to their admirer aside, Keating’s class gave them an opportunity to activate another part of their brain—one concerned less with grades and formulas.

No, this part was more concerned with matters of feeling. Matters of love, art, expression—everything crucial to finding true meaning in life.

Meaning.

Something that Y/N’s life—and the students of Welton’s lives—was severely lacking.

Y/N shoved the existential crisis to the back of their mind, shooting Todd a smile as he occupied the desk at the front of the class.

Their desk compartment was empty aside from their textbook and notes. Y/N felt their heart drop. It had been empty for days.

Did I make a mistake leaving that poem?

Y/N did their best to not look disappointed. The only thing more embarrassing than their poet’s lack of response was the thought of him observing their discontent.

Keating’s class didn't give them much reprieve that day.

_________________________________________ 

Against their better judgment, Y/N found themselves in the library during common hour. In all truth, Y/N just wanted to go back to their dorm and bang their head against the wall until they fell asleep. Alas, the expectation of a 4.0 GPA was looming over their head.

Thankfully, Meeks was the only other person to show up. Y/N didn't think they had the strength to deal with Dalton.

“So are you just going to keep side eyeing me, or do you have something to say?” Y/N set down their pencil and turned to face Meeks.

“Y/N, you've sighed three times within the last minute,” Meeks quipped, "seems like you're the one with something to say."

“But I'm right, though. You have something you want to say."

“I'll share with the class if you will.”

The two stared at each other for a moment—Meeks' expression much lighter compared to Y/N’s frustrated features.

Y/N gave in first.

“I’m tired, Meeks."

“Of?..."

“Everything.”

“You’re going to have to give me a little more here, Y/N.”

“…”

"I'm waiting."

“My GPA dropped to a 3.7," Y/N’s gaze was fixed to the table, “my parents are not happy. I feel like all I ever do is try, but it's not enough, and it never will be. My social life is practically nonexistent, I don't remember the last time I had fun, and I can feel my spirit dying. Some days it feels like I'm dying."

“You’re more than your grades, Y/N. You have to know that."

“I know that, Meeks. They don't,” Y/N let out a bitter laugh, “they ship me off to this prison, don't let me come home for breaks, and they call me maybe twice a semester if I'm lucky. They see my grades more than they ever see me."

Meeks was silent for a beat as Y/N cradled their head in their hands.

“Tomorrow night. Meet me outside the East wing at 10PM.”

“Meeks, what are you��“

“Just trust me. If you care about your spirit, anyway."

“Fine,” Y/N began packing their bag and stood up, nodding absentmindedly, "yeah, okay."

Because everything was cosmically determined to go wrong, Y/N crashed into Charlie as they rounded the corner out of the library. Their armload of textbooks crashed to the floor.

“Don’t you know to look both ways before crossing the street?" Charlie joked as he knelt to pick up Y/N’s books.

Y/N kept their head down as they gathered the mess of note paper that exploded out of their trig book.

“I mean, really, Y/N. If you want to feel me up you don't need to be so aggressive about it—“

Charlie’s sly smile melted into concern when he noticed the tears in Y/N’s eyes.

"Hey, are you okay, Y/N?” Charlie passed the books to Y/N and placed a gentle hand on their upper am.

Y/N gave the boy a tight lipped smile and stepped away from his touch.

“I'm fine, Dalton," Y/N was already moving down the hall.

“Y/N—“

“If you're looking for Meeks, he's still in there."

Y/N disappeared around the corner, leaving Charlie staring at the space they just occupied.

_________________________________________

Y/N wasn’t one for skipping class, but it was the last period of the day and Y/N thought their head would explode if they didn’t get away from everyone as soon as possible.

They triple checked that the hallway was empty before rushing into the storage room filled with students’ empty luggage.

But the room wasn’t unoccupied like they expected.

Neil Perry and Todd Anderson were in the middle of the room, locked in a gentle embrace.

They jumped apart when they heard Y/N’s soft sound of surprise, and the trio looked at each other in shock for a beat.

“We were just—” Neil took a step away from Todd before the other boy cut him off, surprising everyone, seemingly including himself.

“We’re together.”

They all stared at each other for another moment before Neil stepped forward again.

“You can’t tell anyone, Y/N.”

“I won’t,” Y/N blinked, suddenly coming alive again, “I would never.”

Relief washed over the two boys. Todd was more red than Y/N thought was humanly possible.

“Okay, I’m just gonna,” Y/N took a step back and jerked a thumb over their shoulder at the door, “go…”

They turned quickly to leave.

“Y/N.” Neil’s hand enclosed their wrist as they reached for the doorknob.

They looked up into Neil’s soft gaze, a faint smile on his face, “thank you.”

“Of course,” they returned the smile and waved to Todd as they slipped out the door, rushing to their dorm to avoid being caught for truancy.

_________________________________________

Y/N had been laying in bed for all of fifteen minutes before they heard the familiar sound of paper sliding under the door.

They were out of bed and rushing to open the door before they could think twice. Truancy be damned.

The empty hallway mocked Y/N.

Frustrated tears welled in their eyes as they slammed the door and grabbed the envelope off the floor before ripping it open.

Beloved Y/N,

In your eyes, a storm silently brews, Emotional tempest, tears it strews. I stand close, a silent observer, Love entangled in your pain, a fervent preserver.

Your hurt, a whisper in the quiet air, A shared burden, a weight to bear. In the shadows, love stands strong, A balm for wounds, a solace lifelong.

In the heart's tempest, emotions entwine, Love persists, a steadfast lifeline. I may not heal all that pains your soul, But together, in love, we find a way to be whole.

x, Yours.

Y/N let the tears flow freely as they sunk down onto the bed.

They were certain of who wasn’t their poet, but they were in denial about who it could be.

~~~

part six

a/n: any reality where neil and todd aren't in love is a crime against nature

taglist: @vvnbxz @edb954

[female-hysterics]

May I present the idea of alpha!Poe who accidentally comes into contact with an organic aphrodisiac (sex pollen) on an alien planet, but doesn't realize it until it's too late. It was already a tight squeeze for the two of you in his X-wing, but now the pollen has triggered his rut and you're trapped in hyperspace with your best friend that you've had a crush on since you joined the resistance. Needy, sloppy, rough but somehow sweet sex with the galaxy's best flyboy ensues.

When you land, Poe literally carries you half-dressed to his quarters, growling at anyone who even looks at you for too long because like he said as soon as you landed, "M'not finished with you yet, doll."

Alpha Poe is just 😩👌🔥

This whole thing is just...I LOVE IT!!

The X-wing is on autopilot, the small space filled with the scent of sex and his Rut, and you are bouncing as best you can in Poe’s lap as he licks and nibbles on your throat. He’s growling and purring, his inner Alpha wanting nothing more than to get you face down ass up in the classic Omega presenting position and fuck you properly, but Poe is relishing the way you feel in his lap and squirming on his cock. You are whimpering at the thick stretch of him inside you, your eyes rolling back as you swear he’s brushing against your cervix with how deep he reaches, and you vaguely remembered the rumors about him and his prowess in the bedroom from the women’s showers.

“You want me to knot you, baby? Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me to knot this pretty pussy,” Poe purrs against your nipple, teasing the hard nub with a hot sinful tongue, and you swear your brain shuts down at his words. 

You clench down hard against him in response but Poe reaches a hand to grip the nape of your neck while the other stays on your hip to keep you going at a steady pace. Your inner Omega melts at the low growl he lets out as you sag against him, sinking down further on him in the process, and he presses a biting kiss to your lips as you continue to ride him with a whimper. 

“I want you to tell me, starshine. Tell me how much you want me to fill you up, to knot you so good and deep, and keep you full of me-oh fuck-” he groans, throwing his head back with his eyes squeezed shut tightly as if the thought was too much for him to handle and you were handling it no better.

You lurch forward to wrap your arms around him as tight as possible as you nod and mumble your agreement frantically, his burning skin slick against you as he crushes you to his chest, and then you both are coming and you swear your body is burning hotter than the stars zipping past the X-wing. Poe is panting harshly against your throat by the time you can focus again, his entire body shaking from the intensity of his orgasm, and you can feel the added pressure of his knot locking himself inside you. You barely have time to curl your fingers into his hair comfortingly before you feel him shifting his hip beneath you, grinding against you in what little room he has, and you nearly sob at the overstimulation.

“I can’t stop moving, baby. You just feel too good. Feels so good having you take my knot like a good Omega, but I need you to take more, okay? Can you do that for me, baby? Because I’m far from done with you...” he groans against you, sucking dark marks against your pulse point as continues to grind against you, and you are just as helpless as he his against the waves of pleasure crashing against you both.

When you eventually land, Poe is half dressed and you are decently covered, and he has you tightly cradled in his arms protectively. The effects of his Rut is still thrumming through him making him snap his teeth at anyone who ventures too close to you and his rumbling threatening growl shouldn’t be as erotic as it is. He keeps your face tucked against his throat, away from prying eyes, and you allow your aching body to relax against him until you are carried into him room and placed on his bed almost reverently despite his shaking hands and the need burning in his eyes. He crawls over you like a predator, stripping your clothes and kissing every inch of skin he bares, and you don’t have the mental strength to feel any shame at the easy way your legs fall open for him to settle his hips between them. He purrs happily as he tugs his pants down just enough to get his cock out and then he’s pushing back into you like he never left.

[thedeathlysallows]

Is It Over Now? (12)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon

Summary: You drew up some good faith treaties

Warnings: canon typical Targaryen incest. Developing Stockholm Syndrome, Aemma is becoming an unreliable narrator.

Tag list: @callsignwidow

Aemond is gone, but Vhagar returns after two days time, reuniting with Vermithor. Their happy roars echo across King's Landing and it fills your heart with a bittersweet emotion you can't quite name. Is Aemond thinking of you at all in Harrenhal? You know you're thinking of him. Constantly. The smell of him lingers on the bed sheet, on your clothes, and on your skin, fading with each passing day. You feel uneasy without your husband around.

On the third day of his absence a letter arrives strapped to Vhagar's saddle. It's a letter from Aemond, written in High Valyrian. He tells you about Daemon's attempted siege and how Harrenhal withstood it all. He tells you how House Strong no longer stands, their ancestral home now belonging to him. He tells you about a woman. Alys Rivers. She's a supposed bastard of Lyonel Strong, older than Harwin and Larys, but he's taken her as a prisoner of war.

It doesn't sit right with you, the way he talks about this woman. His tone is almost... love sick.

He tells you that you would like her, and you decide to be the judge of that.

Getting out of the Keep won't be simple. None of the guards will allow you to just walk out the front gate... plus, you're certain Aegon himself is still keeping an eye on you. All of your secret tunnels are gone, sealed up by Aemond weeks ago. So, what's left? How can you escape?

Vermithor's loud roar reverberates through the Keep and you dash to the window of your bedchamber. He soars through the sky, dancing along with Vhagar in graceful arches. You let out a low pitched whistle and his head turns in your direction, mighty wings changing his path mid-swoop. Before you can question yourself, you climb on the window ledge and jump, hoping Vermithor understands what you need him to do.

The months the two of you spent apart melt into nothing as you crash on his large back, quiet understanding passing between dragon and rider. Vhagar comes up on your left. Her eyes are old and knowing as she dips her head towards you and takes the lead. You aren't sure which direction Harrenhal is, but both dragons seem to understand what it is you need.

Who it is you need.

Harrenhal is not a pleasant place by any stretch of the imagination. Death seems to linger in the very air, pressing down on your chest and making you want to run and hide. You don't though. You dismount Vermithor with your head held high, already missing the warmth and familiarity of him. He remains as close to you as he can, head swinging back and forth as if waiting for an ambush.

"Easy," you tell him with a gentle pat. "Stay with Vhagar. You'll keep each other safe."

Vermithor huffs at you, smoke billowing from his nostrils. He'll listen only until he senses you're in danger.

As you enter what remains of Harrenhal, you're greeted by Aegon and Aemond's soldiers. Each one bows to you with sheepish expressions. It's as if they know something you don't.

"Where is my husband?" Your gaze flits from soldier to soldier, none of them willing to speak up. "Well?"

"The Great Hall. m'lady," one finally says.

You march past the soldiers, eyes fixed firmly ahead, tuning out the whispers of the men as you leave. Tears sting your eyes but you won’t allow yourself to be humiliated further by crying in front of them. Any of them. Your cheat of a husband included. Because why else would the soldiers stare at you with such pity? Why else would they whisper behind your back? Aemond is fucking the Rivers woman.

There’s simply no other explanation.

“Aemond,” you call out as you enter the Great Hall.

Before you see him you hear a feminine giggle and the soft rumbling of Aemond’s voice.

“Clearly I need to make my presence better known, husband.” Your shoulders tense and you tilt your chin higher as you take in the sight before you. “It seems I took your men off guard… as well as you.”

Aemond doesn’t move from his seat at the head of the high table, doesn’t move to put Alys Rivers off his lap, doesn’t look at you with anything less than anger. In fact, if it weren’t for the rise and fall of his chest you could almost believe the shock of seeing you sent him into the arms of the Stranger.

“Aemma,” he finally breathes out your name, shoving Alys to the side. “Why are you here? How are you here? Aegon should’ve had you under lock and key.”

“It seems the bond between dragons is stronger than we all thought.” You give him a non answer. “Did you know Vhagar has been coming to see Vermithor since you departed? She led us here, the smart girl. I wonder what she wanted me to find?”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“And you shouldn’t be fucking a woman who isn’t your wife! You despise your brother for the very thing you’re now doing. So what is it, Aemond? Are you the honorable man I’ve always cared for or are you a liar no better than his brother?”

Aemond’s violet gaze seems to pierce your soul as he stalks toward you. “Right now I’m a man worried for his wife’s safety. What do you think will happen when they find you missing at the Keep?”

“What do you think will happen when I tell your mother her favorite son is no different than her eldest?” You don’t know why you’re saying these things. All you know is that you want Aemond to hurt. You want to hurt him.

He takes a deep breath, eyes shutting briefly. “You don’t understand what’s happening here. We need Alys-“

“Oh, we do? I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware we needed someone to keep your bed warm while-“

“Leave!”

But his order isn’t directed at you. Instead, Alys (who had been listening very intently to the conversation) offers a quick curtesy and leaves the Great Hall. You stand completely still and quiet, waiting for the swish of her skirts to disappear completely. Once it does you turn back to Aemond who still wears a thunderous expression.

You clear your throat. “I’ll give you one minute to explain what I saw and what your grand plan seems to be.”

“And after I explain?”

“I… haven’t decided. We’ll see once you explain.” Part of you is ready to go back to Vermithor and not even wait for an explanation. It’s the same part of you that is vaguely considering running back into Aegon’s arms. But you won’t do either of those things until Aemond has a chance to explain.

Aemond nods as if reading your mind. “There are whisper that Alys Rivers is a witch with a penchant for seeing the future. We need her. Having her power on our side could end the war tomorrow.”

“End the war… and in this plan, does my mother come out of the war alive?”

“That depends on what Alys sees.”

“You’re giving this strange woman a lot of power and importance.”

Aemond sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “It’s a command from the King. I’m to keep her happy and ensure her loyalty.”

“So she gets to sit on your lap and play the part of a princess while I’m locked away?”

His smile is wry when he says, “you don’t currently appear to be locked away.”

You don’t respond to his attempt at levity. “I don’t like this, Aemond.”

“I know. I know. Just trust me, please. Alys will never compare to you.”

You aren’t sure if you believe him, but for now you’ll leave the matter alone.

[allycat75]

Hey Boston Dumb Fuck! Just felt you needed a bit of a razzing- get Icarus to come down back to earth before your wings melt and you come crashing down, idiot!

I recently saw a picture of you with those awful chiclets in your mouth and find it funny your dad has qualms with fluoride (which, by the way, has kept me cavity free well into adulthood), but would conscript you to a lifetime of phony teeth, with very real risks of infection and deformity.

Because the first set looked good, but were you aware they had to shave off your natural enamel? And they only last about 15 years? And doing things like smoking doesn't help them last?

Now you are stuck with this second set that look like you and a back alley dentist got stoned and pasted a bunch of those mini gum squares into your mouth.

Wait, did you get some sort of bacteria that went directly to your brain? Is that why you have been acting like a suicidal narcissist and making the absolute worst decisions possible? I sure hope that is the answer because we can fix that. Find an antibiotic to fix yourself right up (unless dear old dad has a problem with those, too. Don't know how much of the RFK Jr. road he may have traveled. Besides, you are a grown ass man, despite every action and you have taken over the last few years. Put on your big boy pants and take your life back, asshole!)

I even know a great tooth guy. Seriously, I do. Not for me, because I am happy with my choppers, but for others, he is an artist.

[kookie-doughs]

Happy Meal

Hawks / Keigo Takami X Reader

-As a young mother YN didn't know what to do when the number 2 hero had taken the last happy meal that her son so desperately want.

Chapter 20: Saving Her

The number of heroes willing to join Hawks despite knowing the cause was still plenty.

People belive even if Hawks had another motivation, its just two birds one stone. He got support.

Sato was left with Chuuya and some other members of Endevour's agency.

Today, in a few minutes, his plan is commencing. As far as the info they have there's 10 of them, 3 of which are incredibly dangerous.

Dabi, Tomura, Gigantomachina who is probably not at the area. A whole lot of Nomus are also dangerous so we need to settle this fast. Before back up arrives.

**

Loud rumblings could be heard outside. Explosion, screams so many are happening outside of you room.

"Y/N, its fine. I'll keep you safe."

"Tenko, whats happening outside?"

"Nothing. Don't worry the others can handle themselves."

"Shigaraki, we need help!!" You hear a voice outside your room.

Tomura grumbles. "Stand your ground on your own, I need to stay here."

"Tenko, help them."

"Why so you can leave me?"

You bite your lip, but you shook your head. "I'm staying here until you come back."

Tomura's eyes widen, you can see the joy from your news. He smiled, or grinned. The marks stretched.

"I'll be quick." He places a hand on your cheek. "Don't get hurt okay? No one's allowed to come here. Scream when someone that isn't me come. Not even Dabi or Toga can come."

"Okay..."

**

Your door knob rattled. That isn't Tomura. You hide. No clue as to whats happening outside.

But to your surprise, a familiar shade of red slipped from under the door and began floating.

"Hawks-san?"

The feather fell to the ground, next thing was the door being kicked. And with one last thud the door swung open revealing a messy blond bird.

"Y/N..." His voice cracked as he slowly approached you.

Your heart began to swell. You had no idea what he was doing here. You were doing fine, nothing bad had happened... But you were glad he came, and you know he's taking you away from this place... You couldn't wait for that.

He rushes to you holding you. The moment you crash into his arms you began to sob. You had missed his hold.

He holds your face examining, you could see tears he was holding back.

"Hawks..."

Time seemed to stand still as he leaned in, his breath mingling with yours, his lips gently caressing yours in a kiss that held a multitude of emotions. It was a kiss that spoke of relief, of gratitude, and of the unspoken promise to never lose you again. In that fleeting connection, the weight of the curreny struggles, the fight on-going melted away, replaced by the warmth of your feelings.

His lips were soft against you, a gentle dance that conveyed a profound sense of belonging. In that embrace, I felt the echoes of his bravery, his unwavering determination to save you, and a love that knew no boundaries.

As he pulled away, your eyes met once again, shining with a newfound hope and an unspoken promise to never let go.

"I'm sorry. I cant let that happen again. I won't let anything harm you again. I promise, I'll protect you with all that I am, for as long as I live. You mean everything to me. I'm sorry for losing you..."

"Im okay... I'm safe Hawks. You're here now." You pull his head to your shoulder kissing his head.

"Y/N?"

You push away Hawks to see. Tomura looked at you and Hawks.

"Tenko I-"

"So I have to force myself?" His eyes was devoit of emotion as he stared emptily at you. "Is that what I have to do? Kill everyone and take you away?"

Hawks pulls you behind him.

"Fine. I'm the villain anyway." Tomura takes a step forward raising his hand around him things slowly started disintegrating.

With wings unfurled, Hawks launched himself into the air, feathers slicing through the wind with deadly precision. He swooped down, aiming to immobilize his foe with swift, calculated strikes. Tomura, however, stood his ground, a defiant smirk on his face as he braced himself for the imminent assault.

Feathers clashed against Tomura's quirk-empowered hands, sparks flying as their powers collided. Hawks, known for his speed and agility, darted around Tomura, launching rapid-fire attacks from every angle. But Tomura, fueled by anger and a desire to prove himself, retaliated with raw power, aiming to touch Hawks and disintegrate him with his devastating quirk.

As the battle raged on, their clash intensified, each combatant pushing their abilities to the limit. Hawks unleashed a flurry of feather projectiles, maneuvering with precision and speed, attempting to keep Tomura off-balance. Tomura, in turn, unleashed waves of destructive energy, disintegrating everything in his path, forcing Hawks to constantly evade and adapt.

"BOTH OF YOU STOP!"

Your voice echoed pushing both of the males back. They look at you. Both throat to throat.

"Agreed, I think you should calm down. You wouldn't want to awaken the child would you?"

The familiar voice behind you sent shivers. A voice you still have nightmares about.

"Sato!" Hawks cried.

You turn sharply, AFO was behind you holding a sleeping Sato.

"My child, its been a while."

"Y-Youre supposed to be in jail..." Your tears slowly flowed.

"Jails are meant to be escaped."

"How are you out?"

"Really, it's not that hard to manipulate you people."

"Master..." Tomura stared at him.

"Tomura.. I must say. I'm disappointed. Why didn't you tell me about any of this?"

Hawks needed to get you and Sato away from him. He just wasn't confident with his speed... not against that monster anyway. He might be able to grab you but not Sato.

"How... did you-"

"I've known about this child since he showed his quirk." The man smirked.

"After all he carries my quirk." His finger rubs Sato's cheek. "And I know everyone that carries my quirk."

"Give him back..." You whimpered.

"How could I? He's perfect. Loyal unlike his parents. Powerful... much more powerful than either of you. Maybe even more than me."

"What do you mean...?"

"He carries something I've been searching for. Dormant, maybe he might not even awaken it as there's a new user. But he has it. If I hone him, I can finally have it."

"Master..." You whimper.

His laughter echoed, his hand descended to touch your cheek, "Nana really should have been more careful."

Hawks deviced a plan, a dangerous one. But then again any retaliation againstthis man is dangerous. "SATO WAKE UP!"

"Hawks don-"

"Mama?"

AFO drifts his attention at the child squirming around his arms, and Hawks takes this chance to grab you and take you away from AFO's side. You squealed at the speed.

"Sato, look we have mama!" Hawks cheered. "Mama missed Sato~!"

Sato looked at AFO who was holding him tears formed as he looked at the terrifying figure. He squirmed from his hold trying to reach for you.

Tomura looked at his son in pity. His heart ached despite not having a bond. Not long ago he was thinking of leaving his son to a stranger of a hero, but now he couldn't help but have his heart broken at the sight of him screaming at the hold of a monster. "Master, can I hold him please?"

AFO turned to Tomura with a frown. "After your betrayal? You are not to ask me of anything."

You were dying inside at every sob that echoed at the room, at the sight of your son kicking and screaming. You can't do anything. You couldn't afford to die, not infront of your son.

"Y/N," Hawks holds you back. "This. This isn't a battle for us."

"It really isn't. You two are nothing but fodder if you try."

"Let Sato go!" Sato cries. He looked at the three other people aside from his captor. Tomura being the closest he tries to reach for him to no avail.

"Master, please." Tomura begged.

"Sato wants mama!!!" He continued to sob back to trying to reach for you. "Papa help Sato!"

Despite all four of you knowing full well who Sato meant, Tomura, acted out in instict. AFO never saw that it would end up like this, probably the fastest he's ever moved, Tomura holds the arm on Sato and emitted as much power as he could against AFO. The villain yanks his arm away from the touch not wanting to take his chance of Tomura overpowering him, and the father grabs his son and tosses it to your direction. Tomura then snakes himself around AFO and settled his hand around the throat of his opponent.

AFO could feel the quirk activated, if the younger villain had manifested the All for One quirk he had dormant, AFO knows he'd be dead.

"So this is the path you've decided?" AFO bellows.

Hawks hurriedly grabbed Sato. And then looked at Tomura. Y/N with tears flowing couldn't move. But they had to.

"Y/N we have to go!"

"Tenko!"

Hawks carried her and she struggled to get away screaming after the blue haired boy.

Tomura looks behind him and saw Y/N disappear.

"Ah... I lost her again..."

"Tomura, what is this." AFO growled.

Tomura smiled bitterly. "I'm sorry master. He called for his papa... I couldn't let that call go unanswered."

"You fool." Spike erupted from AFO's body impaling Tomura. "You shouldn't have crossed me."

Coughing up blood, tears flowed. He held his master down hoping to delay him as much as he can.

"I'm going to kill you if you touch them..." Tomura threatens between his breaths.

"You can't."

AFO grabs Tomura ready to crush him with his bare hands when the door swung open revealing a green haired boy and an oh so familiar muscle man.

"Ah... so thats what the bird meant its not their fight."

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @faithneko @officiallykuute @pinksilk @applepie-macaroon @lolawassad @grinnwolph

[captainwildegarde]

alys vailia (@reapersbayif)

I've only had Alys for a prologue and a half, but if anything happened to her, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself (oh my god so many things are going to happen to her)

Nightmare / Halsey I've trusted lies and trusted men, broke down and put myself back together again. Stared in the mirror and punched it to shatters, collected the pieces and picked out a dagger

Used to the Darkness / Des Rocs Now would you pray before you twist the knife? Yeah, would you take my hand and take a life? I'm too damn young to give up on the light- I'm used to the darkness, I'm used to the darkness

Devil Inside / CRMNL We all got a little bit of devil inside, tearing you apart in the middle of the night. They could bury us alive with the things we hide

All the King's Men / The Rigs Remember when the darkness wasn't all you had to see, remember when a part of you still hoped for what could be?

Sound of War / Tommee Profitt, Fleurie Just when you think there's a settled score, the battle has been reborn. Comes swift like an avalanche, come to steal what you just got back

Gallows / Katie Garfield Let it all come crashing down, burn the castle to the ground. Hang the lies, no disguise, it's our time

Feel Something / Jaymes Young Touch me someone, I'm too young to feel so numb, numb, numb, numb. You could be the one to make me feel something, something

Jenny of Oldstones / Florence And The Machine High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts

lovely / Billie Eilish, Khalid Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near, wanna feel alive, outside I can't fight my fear. Isn't it lovely, all alone?

The Darker The Weather // The Better The Man / Missio But the darker the weather, the better the man. You can take all you want, but not who I am

Flesh and Bone / Black Math I walk alone, beside myself, nowhere to go. This bleeding heart, that's in my hands, I fell apart

In the Shadows / Amy Stroup A whisper in the darkness, in the quiet it'll grow. You try to hide it in the farthest place but everybody knows

Angel on Fire / Halsey I used to be a darling starlet, like a centerpiece, had the whole world wrapped around my ring. I flew too closely to the sun that's setting in the East and now I'm melting from my wings

Dust to Dust / Civil Wars All your acting, your thin disguise, all your perfectly delivered lines, they don't fool me, you've been lonely too long

So Far / Ólafur Arnalds So far from seeing home, I stand out here alone. Am I asking for too much? So far from being free of the past that's haunting me

[trytofic]

So uhhh I wrote something. Killer gets a pet dragon lol

He opens a new box and carefully snaps all the little pieces together, hair flowy and shining, a long set of wings carefully attached to the back of the figure. Killer loves these things, as much as his friend Dust makes fun of him about it, he just can’t see the beauty. Its less of who it is but more of the craft. The figures he collects have such fine detail, its almost like he can see the fabric with ever craved line on them. He sighs as he places the figure in its new spot. This whole room is dedicated to them. He can’t believe that he gets to own such things, but ever since he started working again, his collection could stay. He smiles at his newest gem before he turns off the light, deciding its time to got to sleep. 

He wakes to a crash, and he bolts from his mattress. It sounded like it came from his collection. He grabbed a knife he hid under his bed for completely practical reasons, and absolutely not for when his friend came over to have some fun. When he opened the door, his hand slamming on the wall to turn the lights on, he saw in the middle of the floor a small black creature. He was hissing and writhing, he noticed its eye was a bright cyan color. He is surrounded by glass, he’s the one who made the glass shatter. He looked around to see several figures on the floor, only one not broken from the commotion. His hands shook as he saw the damaged figures. He kneels getting ready to pick them up when the creature hisses and shrieks at him. Stumbling backward, his bones hit the ground so hard he let out a startled yelp.

“What re you doing in here you stupid thing!” He could feel liquid coming from his eyes but chose to ignore it. “You’re breaking my things and you’re going to wake my neighbors.” He says with his teeth grit tight.  

When the creature hisses again and jumps at him, he grabs it by the tail.

‘Let go of me to stupid dolt!’

“What?”

‘You heard me! Put me down this instance!’ Killer dropped the creature into his lap, and it began to look over his legs and wings. As he began to lick his wounds, he could still hear an angry growl. ‘This is my hoard now and I will defend it with my life.’

“You’re what? My 40K figures?”

‘Is that what theyre called? Figures?’

“Well yeah. Wait… how is this your hoard and you don’t even know what they are? What the heck even are you?”

‘I am a dragon of course! How uneducated are you?’ 

“A dragon?”

‘Yes! Now tell me about my hoard! Do they need heat to keep them together and shiny? What value do they hold? Are they likely to be stolen?’

“Woah woah woah, look.” He takes in a deep breath. “First of all, these are my figures. I bought them with my own money, I make sure they don’t get dusty buy keeping them, I make sure the room doesn’t overheat to they can melt. These are mine. So whatever you think you’re going to do here, aint gonna happen!”

‘Plastic? Dust? Wait, are these not valuable?’

“They are to me you little snake!”

‘Do not call me that you pathetic oaf! I am a dragon! I am created to guard a hoard, and this had been decided as my hoard!’ Killer looks down in his lap to see his wings spread out and his feet more webbed that claws. His tail rounded but long. He was more like a sea serpent than a dragon. But he also noticed one eye was closed as he spoke to him. He looked around to see there is a black liquid on some of the glass that is shattered on the floor.

“Are you hurt?” He asks bringing his phalanges to the dragon’s eye. It hisses and he sees the black liquid begin to drip out. He stumbled to his feet, the dragon hissing as he was lifted.

He rushed to clean up his wound and the dragon in his hands shuddered with the gentle touch to his eye. The whole process was silent, and Killer knew he needed to go back and clean up the room, but this little dragon, took priority.  Once his eye was cleaned, he put a small bandage over it.

“Don’t scratch at it. It’ll only get worse if you do.” He huffed, his feet leading him back to the room. He set the dragon down and he sat staring up at Killer. He stared at the broken figures and his shoulders sunk. Some of these designs weren’t even sold anymore, but as he stared down at the dragon who sat staring at the figures, he couldn’t be too upset with him, since he didn’t know what he was doing. He let out a groan as he left to find something to clean up the mess.

As Killer stared at the mess, he let out a sigh and began cleaning, the dragon curled on a shelf, watching him closely. He placed the figures that could be saved in one pile and the ones that he wouldn’t be able to repair in a garbage bag. His soul felt like shattering as he stared at them. He picked of some of the pieces and he could hear his bones begin to rattle. Why did this bother him so much? They’re just figures. He jumped when he heard a small chirp from the shelf and he looked to see a worried expression from the dragon. 

“What should I call you by the way?” Killer asked as he put his hand over his eyes. 

‘I… I do not have a name. Is there one you think would suit me and my hoard?’ The dragon’s tail slightly swayed.

“Nightmare.” He chuckled. “In the Warhammer universe Nightmares are not mortal born creatures, they’re fantastical and strong.” He looked over at the dragon to see its cyan eye grow large and shone in awe.

‘That sounds like a lovely name. I would love to hear more about the story of this universe.’

“Oh, I have a few books somewhere in here that are just stories from in the universe. I know I have some rule books and modules, but the novels are pretty good too.”

‘That sounds lovely. Since you have given me a name, may I ask yours?’

“Killer.” He smiled as he walked over to the dragon. “I know it was a little rocky, but I hope we can enjoy the collect- hoard together.” 

‘I as well.’

[sofiamantegafan110]

NEW X-MEN EPISODE 9

EPISODE 9: U-MUTANTS PART 2

WE OPEN UP IN A DARK ROOM AS A SHADOWY FIGURE ENTERS IT. HE OPENS A DOOR, SHINING A LIGHT ON SEVERAL PIECES OF LAB EQUIPMENT AND SURGICAL TOOLS IN THE ROOM. THE UNKNOWN MAN THEN WALKS UP TO A LAB TABLE, DEEP IN THOUGHT.

SUDDENLY, THE DOOR OPENS AND A MALE VOICE SAYS THAT SOMEONE APPEARS TO HAVE TAKEN THE BAIT. SOMEONE WHO SEEMS IMPORTANT. THE FIRST MAN NODS, SAYING THAT THIS IS THE MOMENT THEY’VE BEEN WAITING FOR, WALKING OFF. THE DOOR OPENS, GIVING SOME LIGHT ON THE TABLE, WHICH HAS A BRAIN INSIDE A SPHERICAL TANK, WHICH SEVERAL NEEDLES PUNCTURING THE GLASS. AS THE DOOR CLOSES, IT PULSES SLOWLY BEFORE THE ROOM GOES DARK AGAIN.

MEANWHILE, ANGEL OPENS HER EYES, BLEARILY, LOOKING OVER AT THE SETTING AROUND HER. SHE SUDDENLY GASPS WHEN SHE SEES THE THREE DEAD U-MEN AND JULIAN STANDING IN FRONT OF HER, HOLDING OUT HIS HAND.

JULIAN: THIS MAY SOUND A BIT CORNY, BUT COME WITH ME IF YOU WANT TO LIVE.

CUE INTRO AND CREDITS.

WE CUT TO DANI’S OFFICE WHERE MONET IS SITTING. DANI TELLS HER THAT IF SHE FEELS THAT WAY, WHY DOESN’T SHE JUST APOLOGIZE TO JULIAN? MONET TELLS HER THAT SHE’S AFRAID IF IT COMES FROM HER, HE WON’T THINK SHE’S BEING GENUINE. THEIR RELATIONSHIP WAS MOSTLY FULL OF LIES, SO SHE’S POSITIVE THAT HER APOLOGY WILL JUST BECOME A BIG MESS. DANI TELLS HER THAT MAYBE SHE SHOULD START BY BEING GENUINE, TO SPEAK FROM THE HEART. MONET IS UNSURE, BUT TELLS HER THAT SHE THINKS IT COULD WORK.

MEANWHILE, JULIAN CONTINUES TO HOLD OUT HIS HAND TO ANGEL, TELLING HER THAT IT’S A YES OR NO QUESTION. ANGEL BACKS AWAY, AFRAID, AS LAURA TELLS HER THAT THEY’RE HERE TO HELP. ANGEL GAGS BEFORE VOMITING ON LAURA’S HAND, MELTING THE SKIN. SHE PANTS, SAYING THAT THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG WITH HER. SHE MUST BE GOING CRAZY. JULIAN SIGHS, INTRODUCING HIM AND LAURA AND TELLING ANGEL THAT HE’S GOING TO UNLOCK THE RESTRAINTS AROUND HER WINGS, BUT SHE PROBABLY SHOULDN’T TRY TO FLY OFF.

THE SECOND THE RESTRAINTS ARE REMOVED, ANGEL SHOOTS OUT OF THE VAN IN A PANIC, AND JULIAN GROANS, SAYING THAT HE TRIED. THE DUO WATCH ANGEL CAREEN AROUND LIKE A BABY BIRD BEFORE CRASHING ONTO THE GROUND. SHE GROANS IN PAIN AS JULIAN FLIES UP TO HER, REACHING OUT HIS HAND.

JULIAN: LOOK, KID. I DUNNO IF YOU NOTICED, BUT WE’RE IN THE SAME BOAT AS YOU. EXCEPT WE ACTUALLY HAVE A HANDLE ON OUR POWERS. NOW, YOU CAN TRY TO MAKE IT ON YOUR OWN, BUT SINCE YOU LACK THE EXPERIENCE, I’M GUESSING YOU WON’T LAST LONG IN THIS FUCKED-UP WORLD. BUT IF YOU COME WITH ME AND LAURA, YOU CAN LEARN HOW TO BE A HERO. YOU CAN LEARN COOL THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF AND YOU’LL BE ABLE TO AT LEAST FLY WITHOUT CRASHING AWFULLY. I’M RIGHT HERE WHENEVER YOU DECIDE, OKAY?

ANGEL TURNS TO LOOK AT HIM, TEARS IN HER EYES.

ANGEL: DON’T TOUCH MY WINGS, YOU PERVERT. OKAY?

MEANWHILE, CLARICE CAN’T HELP BUT WONDER WHERE JULIAN RAN OFF TO. ANGELO ADMITS THAT HE WAS WONDERING THE SAME THING. JAY THEN SAYS THAT HE HEARD THAT MS. FROST SENT HIM AND LAURA ON A SECRET MISSION, PIQUING SOFIA’S INTEREST. CESSILY IMMEDIATELY SHUSHES THEM, LOOKING AT THE SMILING FACE OF ALASTOR, THE RADIO DEMON, ON THE TV SCREEN.

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

ALASTOR: AND WHAT CAN YOU DO, MY FEMININE FELLOW?

ANGEL DUST: I CAN SUCK YOUR DICK!

ALASTOR FREEZES FOR A SECOND AT THAT RETORT, STILL RETAINING HIS USUAL SMILING FACE.

ALASTOR: HA! NO!

ANGEL DUST: PFFT! YOUR LOSS!

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

SEVERAL STUDENTS TRY THEIR BEST NOT TO CHOKE ON THEIR FOOD AT ANGEL’S RESPONSE. SOFIA THEN ASKS WHAT A DICK IS AND WHY IT NEEDS SUCKING, CAUSING THEM ALL TO SPIT OUT THEIR DRINKS AND CONFUSING HER EVEN MORE.

MEANWHILE, LAURA AND JULIAN CONTINUE THEIR INVESTIGATION, WHICH IS NOW A BIT SLOWED DOWN WITH THE NEW ADDITION OF ANGEL, WHO IS CONSTANTLY ASKING QUESTIONS. AT ONE POINT, SHE ASKS JULIAN IF HIM AND LAURA ARE DATING, WHICH IRRITATES THE BOTH OF THEM. LAURA CROUCHES DOWN AND SNIFFS, SAYING THAT SHE SMELLS GASOLINE, WHICH MUST MEAN THAT MARTHA WAS TAKEN INTO A VEHICLE. JULIAN COMMENTS ON LAURA’S SLEUTHING WHILE ANGEL LOOKS RIGHT AHEAD AT A BIG BUILDING IN THEIR DIRECTION. SHE THEN ASKS IF THIS COULD BE A LEAD.

JULIAN: INTERESTING. WE GOT A THIRD SLEUTH ON OUR HANDS. BONUS POINTS FOR A KNOWLEDGE OF COMICS.

ANGEL: THAT’S SUBLIME INCORPORATED, HEADQUARTERS OF SOME GENETICIST NAMED JOHN SUBLIME. HE’S KINDA LIKE IF BRUCE WAYNE FROM DC AND ELON MUSK HAD A BABY AND DONALD TRUMP WAS THE SURROGATE. IT'S RUMORED THAT HIS BOOK THE THIRD SPECIES STARTED THE U-MEN GROUP, WHICH I THINK YOU KNOW WAS THE GROUP THAT KIDNAPPED ME.

JULIAN THEN PLACES HIS HAT ON ANGEL’S HEAD, AND SHE GROANS. LAURA SAYS THAT THE TRAIL DOES LEAD OVER TO THAT BUILDING, SO IT SEEMS LIKE A LEAD. JULIAN NODS, SAYING THAT IT’S ALWAYS THE RICH ASSHOLE WHO’S THE CULPRIT. THE TRIO THEN TAKE OFF TOWARD THE BUILDING. JULIAN OPENS THE FRONT DOOR WITH HIS TELEKINESIS AND THEY WALK IN. JULIAN LOOKS AROUND AS THE PLACE APPEARS TO BE ABANDONED. HE COMMENTS THAT THIS IS DEFINITELY HIS WEIRDEST FIRST DATE, AND LAURA TURNS AROUND AND LOOKS AT HIM. SHE SAYS THAT THIS ISN’T A DATE, IT’S A RESCUE MISSION. SHE SHOULD’VE KNOWN HE WOULDN’T PUT HIS DUTY BEFORE HIS “LIBIDO”.

JULIAN: HEY, YOU WERE THE ONE WHO HAD A CRUSH ON ME, REMEMBER?

ANGEL: WAIT, SHE WHAT?

LAURA: THAT WAS A MISTAKE. I CANNOT BE FRATERNIZING WITH MY TEAMMATES. IT’LL BE TOO DISTRACTING.

JULIAN: UM, CLARICE AND SOFIA ARE A FULL-FLEDGED COUPLE AND THEY KINDA LEAD THE TEAM.

LAURA: BLINK AND WIND DANCER ARE BEING STUPID AND IMMATURE. WE CANNOT AFFORD TO JEAPORDIZE THE TEAM.

ANGEL: DAMN JULIAN. YOU GONNA TAKE THAT?

JULIAN: I SAVED YOUR FUCKING LIFE AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?!

LAURA: NO. YOU REMOVED THE COLLAR AND THEN FOUND IT AS A GOOD EXCUSE TO KISS ME.

JULIAN: IT WAS CPR! YOU’D FIGURE A FORMER ASSASSIN WOULD KNOW THE DIFFERENCE!

ANGEL: HOLY SHIT. TELL HIM HOW IT IS, LAURA!

LAURA: AND I FIGURED YOU WOULD REALIZE THAT I’VE NEVER LIKED SOMEONE BEFORE! I DON’T KNOW HOW TO BE AND I’M WORRIED I MIGHT LET YOU DOWN!

JULIAN: YOU DON’T NEED TO WORRY ABOUT THAT BECAUSE I REALLY LIKE YOU!

FOR A WHILE, THEY BOTH STARE AT EACH OTHER, ANGRY AND CONFUSED. ANGEL JUST LOOKS AT THEM.

ANGEL: DAMN. Y’ALL HAVE ISSUES.

SUDDENLY, THEY ALL FALL TO THE GROUND AS U-MEN APPROACH THEM. A TALL MAN WALKS UP, AND ANGEL GASPS WHEN SHE REALIZES THAT THAT’S JOHN SUBLIME. HE SMILES, SAYING THAT HE EXPECTED SOME OF THE MORE KNOWN X-MEN, LIKE CYCLOPS OR EMMA FROST, SO IMAGINE HIS SURPRISE WHEN THE X-MEN SENT THEIR CHILDREN INSTEAD. JULIAN IMMEDIATELY LOOKS OFFENDED AS LAURA ASKS HOW HE’S ABLE TO DO THIS, AND SUBLIME GRINS, HOLDING OUT THE BRAIN IN THE CANISTER FROM BEFORE.

SUBLIME: MEET MARTHA JOHANSSON. MARTHA’S A BIT OF A METAL FAN.

LAURA AND JULIAN GASP IN SHOCK AS THEY BEGIN TO PASS OUT WHILE SUBLIME SAYS THAT MUTANTS ALWAYS THINK THAT THEY OWN THE EARTH. BY LEADING THE U-MEN, HE GIVES POWERS TO THE POWERLESS, WHILE REMOVING SOME OF THE COMPETITION ALONG THE WAY. JULIAN GLARES AT HIM BEFORE PASSING OUT, LAURA AND ANGEL EVENTUALLY DOING THE SAME WHILE SUBLIME GRINS WICKEDLY.

MEANWHILE, DANI ASKS MONET IF, IN ANY WAY, THE PERSON SHE’S ANGRY AT IS SOFIA. MONET SIGHS AND ADMITS THAT AT FIRST, SHE WAS. AFTER ALL, IT SEEMED LIKE SOFIA STOLE EVERYTHING FROM HER; HER BOYFRIEND, HER POPULARITY, HER SPOT AS CAPTAIN, BUT WHEN SHE LOOKED AT THE SITUATION CLOSER, SHE REALIZED THAT SOFIA WAS ABLE TO BE BETTER. HER KINDNESS WAS SOMETHING MONET FELT SHE NEVER HAD. SHE KNOWS THAT SOFIA IS PRETTY AND POPULAR, BUT SHE ALSO DOESN’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT WHAT PEOPLE THINK.

DANI: TELL THAT TO THE HATERS ONLINE. THE PEOPLE WHO COMMENT ABOUT HER LIKE THEY KNOW HER PERSONALLY. THE PEOPLE WHO SAY THINGS LIKE ‘HEY BEAUTIFUL’, ‘HI DARLING’ ‘HI SEXY’, AND CALL HER ‘WHORE’, ‘BIMBO’, ‘SKANK’, AND ‘MUTANT’. THE TRUTH IS THAT SOFIA DOES CARE WHAT PEOPLE THINK ABOUT HER. AND IT MAKES HER WANT TO BE A BETTER PERSON BECAUSE OF THAT. IN A WAY, YOU GUYS ARE THE SAME.

MONET’S FACE LIGHTENS AT THIS AND DANI SMILES.

MEANWHILE, CESSILY SIGHS AND SAYS THAT JULIAN’S GONNA MISS THE SHOW AT THIS POINT. SOFIA TELLS HER THAT HE’S SURELY SEEN IT BEFORE, SO HE MIGHT NOT MIND. THEY THEN LOOK BACK AT THE SCREEN AND GRIN AT THE CARTOON IMAGE OF THE WINGED CAT DEMON HUSKER AS HE TALKS TO ALASTOR.

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

HUSK: ARE YOU SHITTIN' ME?!

ALASTOR: HMMMM? NO! I DON'T THINK SO!

HUSK: YOU THOUGHT IT WOULD BE SOME KIND OF BIG FUCKING RIOT JUST TO PULL ME OUT OF NOWHERE?! YOU THINK I'M SOME TYPE OF FUCKING CLOWN?!

ALASTOR: MAYBE!

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

CESSILY AND A FEW OTHERS IN THE ROOM SNORT A LITTLE AT ALASTOR'S RETORT.

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

HUSK: I AIN'T DOING NO FUCKING CHARITY JOB!

ALASTOR: WELL, I FIGURED YOU WOULD BE THE PERFECT FACE TO MAN THE FRONT DESK OF THIS FINE ESTABLISHMENT. WITH YOUR CHARMING SMILE AND WELCOMING ENERGY, THIS JOB WAS MADE FOR YOU!

ALASTOR THEN PUTS HIS THUMB AND INDEX FINGER ON EACH CORNER OF HUSK’S LIPS AND LIFT THEM UP TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE HE'S SMILING.

ALASTOR: DON'T WORRY MY FRIEND! I CAN MAKE THIS MORE WELCOMING! IF YOU WISH!

WITH A WAVE OF HIS ARM, ALASTOR MAKES A BOTTLE APPEAR ON THE DESK, THE LABEL READING "CHEAP BOOZE!" HUSK HAS A LOOK OF TEMPTATION ON HIS FACE AS HE LOOKS AT THE BOOZE, THEN BACK AT ALASTOR.

HUSK: WHAT, YOU THINK YOU CAN BUY ME WITH A WINK AND SOME CHEAP BOOZE?! WELL YOU CAN!!!

HUSK THEN TAKES A FEW CHUGS FROM THE BOOZE.

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

SOFIA CHUCKLES, SAYING THAT SHE SAW THAT COMING A MILE AWAY.

MEANWHILE, LAURA, ANGEL, AND JULIAN FIND THEMSELVES STRAPPED TO GURNEYS WITH SEVERAL U-MEN STANDING OVER THEM, DISCUSSING WHERE THEY SHOULD DISSECT. JULIAN STRUGGLES TO REMOVE HIS BONDS, BUT FINDS THAT HE IS INCAPABLE OF DOING SO. LAURA SIGHS AS ANGEL IMMEDIATELY STARTS REGRETTING EVER GOING ALONG WITH THOSE WEIRDOS. SURE, HER LIFE WASN’T PERFECT BUT AT LEAST SHE DIDN’T HAVE WEIRD FLY WINGS THAT SHE COULD BARELY CONTROL, AND SHE COULDN’T VOMIT UP ACID EVERY TIME SHE… ANGEL SUDDENLY GETS AN IDEA.

ANGEL: YO! I’M HUNGRY! IF YOU’RE GONNA KILL US, CAN I AT LEAST BE TREATED TO A LAST MEAL?

U-MAN 1: SURE. I MEAN, WE’RE NOT COMPLETE MONSTERS. HERE, I’LL GIVE YOU MY SANDWICH.

U-MAN 2: BOB, WHAT THE FUCK?

BOB: SHE’S HUNGRY, KARL. JUST ‘CAUSE WE’RE ABOUT TO KILL HER DOESN’T MEAN SHE DOESN’T DESERVE SOME DIGNITY.

ANGEL: WAIT. I NEED TO SPRAY ACID ON MY FOOD. TO BREAK IT DOWN PROPERLY. IF YOU JUST DEACTIVATE THAT PART OF THE INHIBITOR, I’LL JUST PUT SOME ON THE FOOD AND YOU CAN REACTIVATE THE INHIBITOR BEFORE YOU CUT ME OPEN.

BOB: FINE. BUT MAKE IT QUICK, MUTIE.

THE GUARD DEACTIVATES ONE PART OF ANGEL’S INHIBITOR AND HOLDS THE SANDWICH UP TO HER. SHE REARS HER HEAD BACK, BUT THEN SPITS A STEADY STREAM OF ACID STRAIGHT INTO HIS FACE. AS HE SCREAMS, ANGEL SPITS ON HER RESTRAINTS, FREEING HER.

ANGEL: SHOULDN’T’A TRIED TO KILL ME, YOU WHITE-ASS MUTHERFUCKA!

ANGEL THEN FLIES OVER TO JULIAN AND LAURA, SPITTING ACID ON THEIR RESTRAINTS AND REMOVING THEIR INHIBITORS. SUDDENLY, THE OTHER U-MAN TRIES TO SHOOT THEM, BUT JULIAN BLASTS HIM WITH HIS TELEKINESIS BEFORE BLASTING A HOLE IN THE WALL AND SAYING THAT THEY SHOULD GO BEFORE DOCTOR CHUCKLES TRIES TO CUT THEM OPEN AGAIN. BEFORE THEY CAN, ANGEL NOTICES MARTHA’S TANK.

ANGEL: YO! Y’ALL CRAZY PEOPLE WERE TRYING TO FIND THIS CHICK? THE ONE WHO’S A BRAIN RIGHT NOW? WELL, SHE’S RIGHT HERE.

JULIAN: ARE YOU SURE SHE’S NOT DEAD? SHE’S LITERALLY A BRAIN.

ANGEL: I’M SURE. I CAN HEAR HER IN MY BRAIN. I THINK SHE WANTS US TO TAKE HER WITH US.

LAURA: WELL, IT IS WHAT WE CAME TO DO, RIGHT?

JULIAN: FINE.

A FEW MINUTES LATER, LAURA, JULIAN, ANGEL, AND MARTHA’S BRAIN ENTER XAVIER’S. THEY BRIEFLY WALK PAST THE LOUNGE WHERE THE STUDENTS ARE WATCHING THE VIDEO START TO WRAP UP.

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

ALASTOR: NOW, THIS IS THE START OF SOME REAL CHANGES. THE GAME IS SET. NOW... STAY TUNED.

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

AS THE SHOW ENDS, JAY COMMENTS ON HOW INTERESTING IT WAS. SOFIA SAYS THAT SHE THINKS WHAT CHARLIE IS TRYING TO ACHIEVE IS A GREAT IDEA, BUT IT’LL BE DIFFICULT BECAUSE SO LITTLE PEOPLE ARE WILLING TO CHANGE. CESSILY NODS, SAYING THAT MOST PEOPLE DON’T CHANGE. THAT’S JUST HOW LIFE IS. SOFIA THEN ASKS IF MAYBE THE SAME COULD BE SAID FOR MONET, BUT CESSILY REASSURES HER THAT MONET WILL HOPEFULLY…

MONET SUDDENLY ENTERS THE ROOM, ASKING IF SHE COULD TALK TO THEM FOR A BIT. SOFIA NODS AND MONET SITS DOWN. AS SHE DOES, SHE ADMITS TO HER MISTAKES AND THAT SHE FELT LIKE SHE WAS JUST STUCK IN A SITUATION WHERE SHE HAD TO BE SOMEONE THAT WASN’T HERSELF. THE TRUTH IS, SHE BELIEVES THAT SOFIA IS THE TYPE OF POPULAR THAT MONET NEVER COULD BE, AND SHE WANTS TO LEARN FROM HER SO THAT SHE CAN BE A BETTER PERSON.

SOFIA: MONET, I KNEW YOU’D COME THROUGH. I… THIS REALLY MEANS A LOT. AND IF YOU WISH, YOU CAN RETURN TO THE CHEER SQUAD. I WOULD BE HAPPY TO HELP YOU.

MONET: THANKS. HEY, WHERE’S JULIAN? I MIGHT WANNA TALK TO HIM TOO.

CESSILY: I THINK HE JUST GOT BACK WITH LAURA.

MONET: OKAY. THANKS AGAIN.

MEANWHILE, JULIAN AND LAURA START TO WALK OUT OF EMMA’S OFFICE. EMMA THANKS THEM FOR THEIR HELP, AND WITH ANY LUCK, SHE CAN HELP ASSIGN ANGEL TO A SQUAD AND TRY TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT MARTHA’S SITUATION. SHE KNOWS HER FAMILY WILL BE GLAD THAT THEIR DAUGHTER IS… MOSTLY SAFE.

AS JULIAN AND LAURA WALK OUT, JULIAN STARTS TO APOLOGIZE FOR WHAT HE SAID. BEFORE HE CAN, LAURA APOLOGIZES. SHE SAYS THAT SHE ACTED UNFAIRLY TO HIM WHEN SHE WAS THE REASON HE HAD FEELINGS FOR HER. JULIAN SMILES AND ASKS IF THEY’RE COOL, PROMPTING LAURA TO NOD. THEY THEN LEAN IN AND KISS.

AS THIS HAPPENS, MONET STARTS TO WALK OVER TO THEM, BUT NOTICES THEM KISSING. SHE SMILES BRIEFLY AND THEN STARTS TO WALK AWAY, AGREEING TO GIVE THEM THEIR MOMENT. AS THE SCREEN FADES TO BLACK, THE CAMERA FOCUSES ON LAURA AND JULIAN KISSING PASSIONATELY.

[inktrailing]

DW: I'll stop the whole world (snippet)

The utter pandemonium is music to his ears. By now, they've reached the central area, where looking over the railing they can see all the floors as one large circular structure. Many of the guards have succeeded in their recapture, dragging inmates of all species back to their cells. On other floors, guards and prisoners lay dead. The sound of screams soothes him.

“Counterbalance,” the Master says, quiet, taking pause to lean against the railing and look down at what he instigated.

“What?” the Doctor asks, confused. He steps up besides him.

“Saving you,” the Master explains. He refuses to look at the Doctor. “Provides counterbalance for me.”

The Doctor frowns. “Without me you could conquer galaxies, without fail, I bet.”

He shrugs. “It'd be... trivial. Where's the challenge?” He glances over, briefly, at the Doctor. “You're the best.”

“Thanks?” The Doctor isn't sure what to do with that. “How many floors are left, do you think?” he asks instead.

“Twenty, maybe. Give or take. It's no Shada, though perhaps it's inspired.”

“PRISONER #4812,” a voice booms. They turn to face a wall as it slides open and reveals a golden-black aloy gargoyle. It steps out, grinding against the ground with every footfall. “YOU ARE TO BE RETURNED TO YOUR CELL. SURRENDER YOURSELF.”

The Master raises his gun before thinking better of it. “Time to go!” he yells, fear finding him for the first time since arriving to Teskia. He turns and runs, the Doctor on his heels. Wings scrape metal behind them and after nearly smashing the railing, it's flying, impossibly so.

“How are we supposed to outrun that?”

“I really wish I knew!” the Master answers, panicked. “You know, counterbalance really isn't worth this much!”

“I'm worth plenty!” The Doctor glances over his shoulder at the metal monster gaining on them and fumbles with the Master's screwdriver. “I have a really bad idea!” He activates it, cutting through the other end of a thin metal bridge, watching it wobble and creak down to the next floor. “Annnnd—” He races past the Master, grabs the nearest railing of the bridge, and vaults himself over the edge, sliding down until he's out of railing and drops the rest of the way. “—down we go!” he exclaims triumphantly.

The Master slams into him as he follows, and they make in a breakneck run.

“Why am I the only one this thing is chasing!” the Doctor yells, ducking fast from a galvanized hand and bouncing off the barrier of a sealed cell, slipping under the arm.

“Don't let it go to your ego but you're probably the single most valuable prisoner in this place,” the Master answers, skidding to a stop as the gargoyle crashes down on the stairwell before them, hands wrapping around railings and melting them beneath its grip, crumpling the entire structure and flying back into the air. “Oh,” the Master says. “That's a problem.”

The Doctor stares. “Is there another way down?”

“Jumping?”

The Doctor looks sharply at him, frowning, unable to tell if he's joking. Then, the Master draws back, fast, palms open the controls of the nearest cell, and throws the Doctor into it, resealing the cell.

“What are you—hey—!”

The Master breathes, staring over his shoulder as the gargoyle perches on the edge, head tilting as its eyes scan its surroundings, moving beyond the Master, then back. Another few moments, and it takes to the air, flying off, presumably to where it was stationed.

“Huh,” the Doctor says. “Think it'll come back once I'm out?”

“All this fuss, it's certainly more tempting to just leave you here, after all.”

“And admit you've wasted all this time?” the Doctor says, grinning.

“Yes, that is quite a tragic amount.” He taps alongside the control panel, a parallel to their meeting many floors above. “So, got any rope?”

“You really want to jump.”

The Master shrugs. “It'd get us where we need to go.”

“And probably trip every single floor's security system all at once.”

“You'll set them off regardless.”

“Yeah,” the Doctor sighs, agreeing, “probably.”

“The corridors aren't going to get us down and if any of those guards follow us, we're sitting ducks,” the Master explains. “So the only way out is straight down. It's only a few floors. Surely, you've done stupider things.”

The Doctor puffs out his chest in annoyance, but he shoves his hands into the depths of his jacket's pockets, rattling around. “Oh? Maybe...” He makes a face, twisting side to side as he continues to rifle through.

“Sure, it's fine,” the Master grouses, “I've got all day now that you're back behind bars.” He blows out a breath, staring up at the gratings above him, waiting.

“There's a lot of stuff in here, alright!” the Doctor says, “except for my sonic.”

[delphi-dreamin]

Stress Ball

Poor Lucifer is more stressed than usual...

Do y'all remember this little beauty? Well, @midnight-vixn's prompt was too good to just be that one little blurb, so...I wrote more.

Lucifer x Delphi

Word Count: 1.6K

Content warnings: fem!OC, vaginal penetration, rough sex, implied masochism, praise kink, pet names (love, darling, little one)

Other Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, and making her first appearance in Delphi's story, @sassykattery's MC Altaira!

Lucifer hasn’t slept properly in a week. He hasn’t slept in his bed in two. And he hasn’t been able to relax in twice as long. He hasn’t exactly been subtle about his frustrations, either. He’s been snapping at his brothers, withdrawing from social obligations in favor of work, and even neglecting his relationship.

Of course, Delphi understands exactly what’s going on. The school festival is coming up and Diavolo has put most of the work on Lucifer, as usual. He’s been up all hours of the day and night trying to organize a budget that had been left in shambles, resolve stubborn class conflicts over activities that his brothers weren’t able to resolve, plan what the student council themselves were going to do for the festival, and still attend his classes. Delphi tries to help as much as she can, delegating as much as she possibly can to the brothers, but Lucifer still has entirely too much work for one demon to do.

And though it warms his heart every time she brings him a fresh cup of coffee or a plate from whichever meal he’d missed, and he relishes every kiss she presses to his temple before she goes to bed, his mood grows more sour by the day.

The final straw, he decides, is the text he receives from Diavolo asking him to go to the human realm to retrieve some potion or other that Solomon can’t make with ingredients from the Devildom. By the time he makes it to Delphi’s curses and hexes class, he’s barely holding back his demon form. She follows him without a word, despite her confusion, into Diavolo’s empty office.

She even more confused when he slams her into the door and locks it behind them, his wings unconsciously caging her in and shielding her from eyes that aren’t there. When he crashes his lips into hers, she melts into his grasp, letting him open her up and take what he needs. He grabs her ass and lifts her up, growling as she wraps her legs around his waist and grips the bases of his horns. He slides his tongue over hers, squeezing her ass in response to her moans.

“Lucifer,” Delphi pants when he breaks away, sinking his teeth into her neck and leaving behind a deep purple ring.

“I need you,” he groans into her skin. “I feel like I haven’t seen you since preparations for the festival began and I just…I need you.”

She pulls him up to face her, staring into his pleading eyes and giving him a soft smile. “You know I’m yours. But why Diavolo’s office?”

A wicked grin breaks out on Lucifer’s beautiful features. “You mean you don’t want him to come back from his meeting with some of the most awful nobles in the Devildom only to be driven mad by our scents so thick in his office that he can barely breathe?”

Delphi can’t help the matching grin that curls at the corners of her lips. “Do what you need to, love.”

Lucifer moves fast enough that when he lays her face down on the desk, it knocks the wind from Delphi’s lungs. Before she can catch her breath, he’s got her pants and underwear around her ankles and he’s thrusting into her with wild abandon. He grips her hips hard, deep blue bruises forming under his long fingers as he pounds into her.

Delphi grips the edge of the desk in front of her, cries of ecstasy flying from her lips. She’s helped Lucifer de-stress before, but it was nothing like this. Before it was hot, sure, him taking out his frustrations on her as if he couldn’t break her with one too-strong thrust. But now she can tell that even then he was holding back.

This is like trying to straddle a tornado or a hurricane. All she can do is hold on and ride out the storm.

Heat twists within her, building quicker than she thinks it ever has as he repeatedly and relentlessly hits that sweet spot deep within her that they both know hurts so good. She can feel herself getting closer and closer to release, clenching until she’s so tightly wound she’s unsure how he’s still able to move.

“Go on, love,” Lucifer coaches, his tone soft despite the ferocity with which he’s both holding and fucking her. “Come as many times as you need.”

“Fuck! Lucifer!” Delphi cries, stars dancing across her vision as she trembles beneath him. She can't move with him holding her hips down, but she can swear a blue steak so loud that she's sure it can be heard down the hall.

Her head swimming, she’s grateful when he slows and turns her over, fully removing the rest of her clothes and shoes. His hands trace her curves, caressing every inch of soft skin he can reach. Delphi arches into his touch, soft moans and whimpers escaping her hoarse throat. She groans lightly as he shifts her closer to the edge of the desk, lifting her already-sore legs to rest on his shoulders.

The burn in the backs of her thighs is nothing compared to the inferno building in her core with every long, deep stroke of Lucifer’s cock within her sensitive walls. His thrusts build in speed and intensity until her whimpers turn to moans and her moans turn to cries once more. Delphi reaches for the edge of the desk again, but is stopped when Lucifer takes both of her hands in one of his, entwining their fingers above her head. As he restrains her hands, he captures her lips once more with his, lapping up her cries of pleasure with a satisfied smirk.

With a few more precise nudges of his tip against that deepest spot within her, Delphi’s arching off the desk, eyes screwed shut as her walls clench around him. Her hips jerk erratically as tears sting at the corners of her eyes, a strangled cry making its way past her lips as she throws her head back. Her second orgasm crashes around her like a summer storm, hot and intense and over nearly as quickly as it began. She’s left trembling beneath her love as he slows to a steady roll, burying his face in the crook of her neck and placing scorching, open-mouthed kisses along the thin skin there.

“You’re doing so well, my love,” Lucifer murmurs, nibbling lightly at her earlobe. He chuckles at the whimper she lets out in response. “You are absolutely perfect, my darling little human.”

“Luci, don’t stop,” Delphi begs, her voice a high whine. She can feel his pact mark activating on her throat, its heat blooming and spreading over her neck and chest.

Grinning, he breathes into the shell of her ear, “Do you like it when I praise you, love? When I tell you how beautiful you look beneath me like this? Or how good you feel around my cock, like you were made just for me?”

Delphi nods frantically, eyes squeezing shut as she chokes on a sob. She can feel everything within her tightening once more, the throbbing of the pact mark on her throat only heightening the sensation.

“Will you be good for me and give me one more, little one?” Lucifer hums, gripping her earlobe between his teeth once more. He releases her hands, allowing her to wrap her arms around his shoulders and grip him tightly, her nails digging sharply into his ivory skin.

Her release is explosive, crying out his name one final time as the earth seems to shatter around her and her vision goes completely white. She feels Lucifer's hips shudder and suddenly she's being filled with warmth. He continues to thrust into her, fucking her through her orgasm and pushing his cum as deep as he possibly can within her.

Delphi whimpers as she comes down from her high, legs sore and energy fully spent. She lets her arms fall to the desktop and her head fall to the side. Lucifer takes the opportunity to nip at the thin skin of her neck once more, grinning.

“How does going home sound, my love?” he asks, his breath tickling her overstimulated nerves.

She jerks at the feeling, whining as she feels fluids beginning to leak down her thighs and onto the desk. Peering up at him through heavy lashes, she nods. “Please?”

She cries out one last time when Lucifer pulls out, their combined fluids dribbling from her abused hole onto the papers left on the desk. He dresses her quickly, supporting her so that she can step into her bottoms, then takes her into his arms in a bridal carry. He whisks her out of the office nearly as fast as he pushed her into it, making sure to turn the lights off and lock the door behind them.

◇◇◇

When Diavolo opens his office after his meeting, he nearly chokes. The smell of sex is so thick in the air that it's almost palpable. But worse than that is who he smells. Lucifer. And Delphi. The exchange student hasn’t spoken to him other than single-syllable responses to direct questions since her return from the human world, and Diavolo isn’t honestly sure that he can ever repair the damage he’s done to their relationship.

He goes to retrieve some papers he’d planned to work on tonight and blanches as he approaches his desk, seeing the papers he left there completely soaked. He looks back up at the doorway where Barbatos and a blonde about half his height stand, Barbatos with one gloved hand over his mouth and nose and the blonde with her hands on her hips, grinning like a cat.

“Who’d you piss off this time, babe?” she teases, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping one of the silver charms on her uniform sleeve with one long nail.

“I believe I might have upset Lucifer,” Diavolo groans, running a hand through his hair.

“I daresay you might be right, my lord,” Barbatos replies, expression never faltering.

Altaira snickers, D.D.D. already out and half a text already typed up.

◇◇◇

Partner in Crime 😈

A: You two are in SO much trouble! 🤣🤣

D: Worth it~

Taglist: @sassykattery @leavesandflowers @sparkbeast20

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[scuttling]

Lean on Me

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Gender Neutral Reader Word Count: 4,717 Tags: SFW, Fluff, 5+1 Trope, Obliviousness, Mutual pining, Aaron Hotchner deserves good things, Canon typical injury Summary: Five times you want to kiss the frown off of your boss's face, and one time you actually do it. *Requested by Anon. Link to AO3 or read below! “It doesn’t make sense.”

You stick a tack in a photo of a murdered woman—unfortunately one of many you’ve stuck to this board—and turn to face Hotch, who is looking over your handiwork with a quizzical expression.

“What doesn’t?” He takes a few steps closer, crosses his arms in front of him.

“Why would the unsub leave his comfort zone? The first six abductions occurred within five miles of the college, so why did the seventh and eighth happen almost twelve miles away?” He reaches for the board, traces his finger along the circle Reid had colored in on the map. “We profiled that he’s disorganized and far from confident, so why would he do that?”

He looks over at you, frowns, and not for the first time your gaze is drawn to the little crease between his eyebrows that always forms when he is puzzled, worried, confused, stressed, or otherwise unhappy. In short, it’s there kind of all of the time.

For the first time, though, you think of how easy it would be to lean over, press your lips there, smooth it out, and maybe even get him to smile for a change. He has a great smile, when he lets people see it.

You shake the daydream, rewind back to the question he asked, and wrinkle your nose in thought.

“Maybe his circumstances changed? It's summer now, and there are still classes, but students aren’t living in the dorms. Maybe he moved back home or got an apartment off campus that’s within that area—or a job.” He sighs, runs a hand over the back of his head, nods.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. That’s good. I’ll mention it to the others.” He pulls out his phone, and you grab another photo, another thumbtack, but something stops you and you lay a gentle hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to think of everything, you know. That’s why you have us.” He exhales, his shoulders losing a little of their tension, and that forehead wrinkle gets a little less deep.

“Sometimes I forget that not everything needs to be done the hard way. Or by me.”

“What? You, Aaron Hotchner, doing things the hard way?” you tease, and you are gifted a glimpse of his rare, unfiltered smile.

“Okay, enough pointing out my flaws,” he says with a raised eyebrow, though he’s still smiling, and as he looks down to type out a text, you remember to pull back your hand.

“I would never.” He looks up from his phone at that—maybe at the conviction in your voice, which you hadn’t exactly intended—and his expression softens further.

“I know you wouldn’t.” You hold eye contact for a moment, and then turn to finish preparing the board, pinning up another photo of another woman and reminding yourself that they need you to focus on the task at hand. Two weeks later, you knock on Hotch’s office door, a stack of completed consults in your hand. He looks up, that familiar notch in between his brows, a scowl on his face; when he sees that it’s you, he tones it down a little.

“Draw the short straw?” he asks, and you figure that’s because everyone knows he is in a bad mood and they’ve been avoiding this office all day. You shrug.

“It was rock, paper, scissors, but yes.” He huffs a short laugh, and you smile, step toward his desk. “Anything I can do to lighten the load?”

“Technically you’re adding to it,” he says with a glance at the files in your hand, and you set them on one of the chairs with a purposefully loud thump and then take the other seat.

“Technically. But technically, you only need to review my consults; I can review theirs. Right?” He mulls it over a moment, like the thought never crossed his mind—of course Aaron I have to do everything myself Hotchner would never suggest such a thing, even as the team sits in the bullpen with nothing to do, seeing who can throw M&Ms into Spencer’s mouth from the furthest distance.

“Technically,” he agrees, and you pluck a pen out of his pen cup and take the first file off the pile, open it in front of yourself, careful not to cut into the workspace he’s occupying. You both smile softly down at your work, and you actively do not think about that wrinkle between his eyebrows.

About an hour later, he reaches for his mug out of habit but finds it empty; you stand, take it in your hand, and he makes a noise of protest.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you say, and you walk toward the door. “I need some too. I’ll be right back.”

You pass through the bullpen—apparently the M&M contest led to a sugar crash, because Spencer is laying with his head on his desk—and grab your cup off your desk, take both to the break room to fill them.

Derek appears next to you as you’re stirring your sugar in.

“Coffee date with the boss?” he asks with a curious expression, and you shake your head.

“Of course not. I’m helping him with the overwhelming amount of paperwork on his desk so his mood improves, instead of just ignoring him.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and Derek scratches the back of his head.

“Never thought of that,” he admits, and you pat him on the arm and take your coffees back upstairs.

Hotch looks up at you as you set his mug down, says a soft thank you, and you grab the pile of files you brought up, separate them, and head back downstairs.

“You review mine,” you say to Derek, handing him a stack, “Emily take Spencer’s, Spencer take Derek’s, I’ll take Emily’s.” They look at you like they have no idea what to say, and you just smile, tap the top of Spencer’s head with a folder. “I’ll come back down and grab them in a little bit.”

“Yes, boss,” Emily says, and you grin on your way back upstairs. Hotch is standing when you arrive this time, looking out the window over the bullpen.

“What did you do?” he asks, turning to you, frowning again. You’re so close that kissing that wrinkle would be effortless. All you’d have to do is lean in.

You smile.

“I delegated, Hotch. You should try it some time.” You put your hands on his arms and guide him back to his desk. “Now what can I help you with?”

By the end of the day, his desk is clean and his bad mood is long gone. He closes the last of his files, sighs deeply, covers your hand with one of his, and says thank you.

The next morning when you come in, there is a steaming latte and a cookie on your desk, and you can’t stop smiling the rest of the day. Your next case is draining, children abducted and left for dead, and everyone is on edge, but no one more than Hotch. You’re fairly certain his face hasn’t relaxed since the initial briefing, and he’d be a prime candidate for the old ‘your face will get stuck like that’ joke, if anyone was up to joking.

The team catches the unsub, saves one child, but not until after three are dead; you take a late flight home because no one wants to stay another night in a town it feels like you’ve failed, and everyone curls up to get some rest except you and Hotch.

You try to read the book you brought along—a science fiction dystopian novel, something to get you out of your head and away from real life problems—but you’re a little distracted by Hotch’s sighing. It’s become an every-five-minutes thing, and while you’re definitely on board with sighing as a way to decompress, he’s not decompressing. He looks like he’s in pain mentally, exhausted physically; you’re not sure how everyone else was able to ignore it and go to sleep, but then you figure everyone else may not be as in tune with him as you are. As observant.

As in love.

Not that that matters: you know your issues, and some of his issues, and there’s the whole superior/subordinate thing which doesn’t really do anything for you except give you a stomach ache. It would never work out, even if he somehow, miraculously, were to love you back—and that’s a pretty big if in and of itself.

But still, you notice him, can’t help it, and the sighing is getting to be a little much. You sigh yourself, put your finger in between the pages of your book, and walk over to take the seat next to him; he looks over at you, frowning just like always, and you carefully close his file and set it aside.

Neither of you say anything to the other, just look each other over for a moment, and then you lean lightly against his shoulder and flip back to the beginning of your book.

“I still dream of the island. I sometimes approach it across water, but more often through air, like a bird, with a great wind under my wings. The shores rise rain-coloured on the horizon of sleep, and in their quiet circle the buildings: the houses grown along the canals, the workshops of inkmasters, the low-ceilinged taverns.”

You keep your voice low and soothing, and you are just turning to page fifteen when you feel the weight of his head drop onto your shoulder.

The crease between his eyes melts away in sleep.

You read until you make it home, and you wake him up with a gentle nudge before the rest of the team drifts back to consciousness. He looks at you, blinks slowly like he’s trying to remember where he is, and then gets a little sheepish when he puts two and two together, realizes he fell asleep on your shoulder.

You just shake your head, give his arm a squeeze, and head back to your seat to gather your things. You, Hotch, and Emily are catching the elevator to the parking garage—after staying two hours later to work on some rush consults straight from Strauss—when he looks at something on his phone that makes him groan aloud. You and Emily share a look, and you ask what’s wrong.

“I just remembered I’m supposed to have a treat for Jack to take to school tomorrow and it’s, what, seven thirty?”

“So just stop at the supermarket on your way home; no one can tell the difference anyway,” Emily says, but you and Hotch both shoot her a skeptical glance.

“It’s all about the treats at a school like Jack’s,” you supply, and Hotch looks over at you like he’s surprised by your comment. “If they’re not homemade, the parents talk. Plus there’s probably an allergen list a mile long: no nuts, no eggs, no soy, no dairy. You have to pick him up from Haley’s tonight, right?” You’re pretty sure, but when he nods he confirms it. “So pick him up, go home and get some dinner, put him to bed, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way over with the goods. I have a great recipe for vegan apple cinnamon muffins that will go over really well.”

“You really don’t have to do that; I’ll figure something out,” he says, but you just shake your head and pull up the recipe on your phone.

“Forget it, it’s already done. I have everything I need at home already; let me help,” you murmur softly, and when he looks at you with the furrowed brow that comes with accepting kindness from someone else, you almost forget it’s not just the two of you in the elevator. It’s only when Emily clears her throat that the eye contact breaks. He nods.

“Okay. Thank you; I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” The elevator dings and it stops at the parking garage; the three of you get off and head in separate directions for your cars. “I’ll text you.”

“Goodnight,” Emily says with a grin, and you wave at her, hop into your car, and head for home.

About two hours later, you show up at Hotch’s door with two dozen apple cinnamon muffins, and unbleached, whole wheat flour in your hair, and he has coffee brewing, a smile on his face.

“You don’t know how grateful I am,” he says as he ushers you into the kitchen, takes the boxes of muffins from your hands, and pours you a cup of dark, delicious coffee. You sip it slowly, savoring the taste—you should have known he’d have incredible coffee—even though it’s far too late for you to be indulging. Unless you’re working a case, you usually switch to decaf by three.

“I know you are. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you’d appreciate the gesture.” You lean forward, open a box, and pull out two muffins, handing one to him. “I made a couple extra so we could taste test; if I accidentally put salt in instead of sugar, you’re on your own,” you joke, and you wait for him to taste it before taking your own bite.

“That’s delicious. There’s really nothing unapproved in here?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Nope, it’s all healthy and allergen free, except for the flour, but that wasn’t on the list you sent.” He reaches a hand toward you, and you don’t realize, at first, that he’s brushing the flour out of your hair.

“Messy baker,” he teases, and your heart feels really full, being in his kitchen like this, warm muffins and fresh coffee, even if your hair is a mess. You smile, and he smiles back before dropping into that serious expression, eyebrow wrinkle and all. You think about brushing your lips there tonight, but this feels like two steps forward, and you don’t want to risk taking that step back. “Next time I’ll help you.”

“Oh, next time? You plan on needing my baking expertise again? Fair warning, this is the only recipe I know, so I hope you like apple cinnamon muffins.” You take a sip of your coffee, look up at him, and he takes another bite, nods his head.

“I do. Especially these.”

In a perfect world, what comes next would be a cinnamony, coffee flavored kiss, but the world’s not perfect, and you yawn instead. You look down at your mug like it’s betrayed you, and Hotch chuckles low.

“It’s decaf. I know you usually stop in the afternoon; I wouldn’t forgive myself if you were up all night because of me.” You have always been a person who falls in love with all the little details about someone, so the fact that he’s noticed this, remembers this, makes your heart beat a little faster. “I should let you go. You’ve done so much today, between staying late and baking for Jack—for me. You need to get some sleep.”

He’s right, it’s nearly ten, and you should be getting back home, but this is a moment you never want to end.

You just nod, though, and he reaches out to brush his hand over your back when he walks you to the door.

“Thank you again. I really appreciate that you did this for me,” he says, soft, like he still can’t imagine you would.

“You’re welcome, Hotch. Any time, really; I’m happy to help.”

You get home, clean your kitchen, and have a very late dinner, and the smell of good coffee and apples and cinnamon is still in your nose when you drift to sleep. “You didn’t hear what he said,” Hotch snaps almost a month later, with one hand splayed on his hip and the other on the table in front of him. The moment you saw him engaged in an argument with a member of the Sheriff’s department, fire in his eyes, you’d grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a small conference room, shutting the door behind you. It took almost three minutes of staring at each other for him to say something instead of just glaring at you for interrupting the pissing contest.

“I don’t need to know what he said. I know you, and I know you handle people like that with a quick, sharp remark and then you wash your hands of it. You don’t argue back and forth, you don’t draw it out. You would have regretted it if you did that today, so I stopped you.”

“You think you know me so well, do you?” he asks in an unkind tone of voice you can’t identify, haven’t heard from him before; the expression on his face is familiar, though, a scowl that only puts emphasis on his handsome features—it’s unfair, really.

You exhale, cross your arms.

“Yes, and I know you well enough to know you’re irritated with him, not me, so cut the shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever been quite that direct with him, and certainly the first time you’ve ever sworn at him; your immediate instinct is to apologize, but he surprises you by huffing a laugh. The angry lines of his face smooth into something softer.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. He just—I can’t stand people like that.” He scrubs a hand through his hair in irritation. “We’re here to work—to do a job they couldn’t finish on their own. Not to be… objectified.” He mutters the last word, so low you almost don’t hear it, and then there’s a knock at the door. Derek enters.

“Sheriff wants a word, Hotch; do you have a sec?” With one last look at you, he nods, brushes past him to leave the room. Derek gives you the barest hint of a smile. “He was defending your honor, you know.”

You frown. You didn’t know.

“That jerk was talking about me?” you ask, clarifying, and he nods.

“Something about assuming you’re an athlete because he likes your ass. Set the boss man off.” You walk over to him and leave the room together, heading back to your workspace.

“Well Hotch is right, we’re here to work, not to be objectified. I can see how he would get angry.” Derek shoots you a flat, questioning glance.

“You think he’d be getting that worked up if it was my ass that guy was talking about? Or Emily’s?” The two of you stop outside the conference room, and you cross your arms, lean against the doorframe, frown.

“So what are you trying to say? That he sees me as being weak, thinks he needs to defend me? I'm as capable as either of you.” That may not be strictly true, because you’re a little more brains than brawn, like Spencer in that way, but you can hold your own and you thought Hotch knew that.

Derek just laughs, shakes his head, and ducks into the room. You follow, so confused.

“I thought you were just playing it close to the vest, but you’re oblivious, aren’t you?”

“Oblivious about what?” Emily asks, pen between her teeth, feet kicked up onto a chair, and you shrug.

“I’m still not sure. Hotch got into an argument with a deputy about me, and I asked Derek if Hotch thinks I’m weak and that’s why he felt like he had to defend me.” She smiles broadly around the pen, pulls it out of her mouth with a grin.

“Oh, honey. That’s not it. You know that’s not it, right?”

“I clearly don’t know what’s going on at all, so no, if you’d care to enlighten me,” you say, sinking into an empty chair. “I hate it when you guys are cryptic.” You love your team, but they have a habit of doing this all the time, saying things to each other with their eyes, or just a few words that don’t have any sensible meaning that you know of. It’s like they live to talk over your head, to say things without actually saying them.

“Okay. Hotch has a thing for you,” Emily says simply, and you blink.

Well that’s the very last thing you’d expected to hear.

“He absolutely does not.” You look at Derek, who’s making a face like you’re the one being crazy; you laugh out loud, can’t help it. “He does not. I’m pretty sure Hotch doesn’t have things, and if he did, he wouldn’t have a thing for me.”

“Why not? Because that would be too convenient, since you have a thing for him too?” Derek asks, taking the seat across from you, and you grab the nearest case file, flip it open and focus your attention on it.

“I care about him, the same way I care about all of you, and he maybe needs a little more care—but you guys are reading into things.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to say anything more, because Hotch, JJ, and Spencer return, and you all have a lead to work.

You can’t help but wonder if you’re being obvious about your feelings, though, especially later, when you get back to the hotel and the group decides to have a drink at the bar.

JJ and Emily hit the pool table while Derek and Spencer head up for drinks, and you are left sitting with Hotch at the table, pressed together in the inside corner of a booth.

“Tired?” you ask him, because he does look worn out, his tie a bit loose, his eyes a little red. You know he doesn’t get much sleep when you travel, and you can’t imagine he’ll go to bed even when this little detour is over.

“Always,” he sighs, but when he looks over at you, he smiles, just a little. “Just can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Yeah, it gives Southern hospitality a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” The people you’ve interviewed today are, on paper, quite respectable, but there’s a Desperate Housewives, ‘everyone is sleeping with someone else's spouse’ kind of thing going on, and it’s honestly exhausting. To your surprise, Hotch laughs.

“It really does. I don’t think I’ve ever missed the quiet solitude of my apartment quite this much.” You lean back against the vinyl of the booth, sigh.

“I miss my apartment, but it’s been too quiet lately. I prefer the sounds of someone else sharing space with me: the coffee maker percolating, the news in the background, the shower running, the sound of flipping the pages of a book or magazine.” You look down at your hands, because you’re getting a little more emotional than you usually let other people see. “Sorry. I’m not typically this open about being…”

You trail off, but Hotch looks over at you, concerned, the wrinkle between his eyebrows even more noticeable when you’re sitting this close. You think, just briefly, of running your thumb over it, but with your luck, Derek or Emily would see, and you’d never live it down.

“Lonely?” he finishes softly, and when you nod your head, he covers your hands with one of his own, bumps his shoulder against yours. “I get lonely too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You look up at him, feeling a little vulnerable, and his expression softens. “When we get back, maybe you could come over for dinner some night. Nothing fancy,” he clarifies, and you smile, “just two lonely people being a little less lonely.”

“That would be really nice.” You can see Derek and Spencer approaching out of the corner of your eye, and Hotch must too, because he removes his hand, slips back into the slight, persistent frown you have come to know and love. Derek looks at you, raises an eyebrow, and hands you your beer. You try to tell him to shut up with your face, plan to follow up later to see if that actually worked. “We have an agent down on the second floor,” Spencer says into his comms, and you immediately want to slap him in the back of the head.

“Don’t say agent down, kid; I’m like, slightly wounded at best.” You hold a hand against the stab wound on your side—the unsub honestly just grazed you, and you’d knocked him out with a single punch, which made you feel pretty awesome—and reach out the other so he can help pull you to your feet. Your hand comes up to your own walkie button. “I’m not down, I’m fine—just slightly stabbed,” you add, and Spencer is getting his cuffs on the unsub when Hotch and JJ burst through the doors.

Well, Hotch bursts. JJ follows behind looking strangely winded for one of the most naturally athletic people you know.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he asks, and you lift your shirt to show him the sluggishly bleeding gash.

“I’m fine, see? It’s not even deep. Spencer saw blood and got a little ahead of himself.” You turn to Spencer, who sticks out his tongue, then back to Hotch, who looks haunted and pale, with that goddamn wrinkle between his eyebrows again. He’s bent down, looking over your wound seriously—you’ve had worse, so much worse, that you don’t understand why he’s so worried about it—and then he leans up, presses a hand to your cheek, and pulls you close for a soft, tender kiss.

If this were a movie, right about now a camera would be panning around you in a circle, as you wrap your free hand around his neck, pull him closer, melt against his body like it’s all you’ve been dreaming of for months, and the two of you would break apart smiling, maybe even kiss again.

It’s not a movie, though, so you just bleed out against your hand and freeze, because Hotch is kissing you at a crime scene and you almost got filleted, so you’re not sure if this is a you got hurt, so I’d better kiss you kiss or an I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever, and you got hurt so I have to kiss you kiss.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both breathing a bit heavily, and you don’t know what to do, so you just lean in and press your lips to that wrinkle between his eyebrows that you’ve been thinking about so frequently since the first time you noticed it. You brush a hand through his hair, and when you pull back, he’s smiling.

“What was that?” He covers your hand on your side with his own and helps get you toward the elevator so you can be patched up by the EMTs; JJ and Spencer are left staring, open-mouthed in your wake, with an unconscious unsub at their feet, but neither of you are concerned about that.

“I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now: to kiss that spot between your eyes so you’ll stop frowning for a change. Since I couldn’t, I decided to find other ways to help you stop frowning so much. It kind of became my life’s mission.” He sighs, puts his arm around you and holds you close while you wait for the elevator to bring you to the ground floor.

“I stop frowning when you’re around because you’re around, not just because of the things you do for me,” he tells you, and he presses his lips to yours for another warm, soft, perfect kiss. “I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now.” You tilt your head, make a sound of contemplation, and he chuckles softly. “What is it?”

“I think those cryptic idiots we work with might be onto something,” you say with a grin, and when the elevator lets you off and Hotch helps you toward the ambulance to be patched up, Derek and Emily are waiting with concerned looks on their faces. They must be pretty confused to see you’re grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you guys were right; Hotch does have a thing for me!” you call as you walk past them, and when your wound is properly dressed and wrapped, you put your arms around his neck and let him kiss you until the frown and accompanying wrinkle are nothing but distant memories.

*The novel excerpt is from The Weaver by Emmi Itäranta.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[dourpeep]

Hello, i want to req kazuha x f!reader and if you can do nsfw, please 👉🏻👈🏻 since it's kazuha, maybe he's more like soft!dom. Thank you!

IEHFIEH OKAY OKAY I got really excited about writing this so it's a WHOPPING 3K WORDS! So many words

Kazuha's another Xiao situation for me, it seems...not to mention my favorite to write is very painfully obviously soft doms. That being said, I did make him a little more flirty than his voice lines suggest.

The poem that is referenced in the fic is In the Sea of Iwami by Kakinomoto Hitomaro!

Drowning in You

Summary: At first, you know little of the mysterious ronin's past, but little by little, you find your fates entwined.

Contains: ((NSFW 18+)) Kazuha x afab!reader, soft dom!Kazuha, reader is traveler but not Aether or Lumine, small mention of alcohol, hint of overstim, poetic

How vast, the ocean seems to be, even more so in the dark of night. Above, the sky is a spattered array with thousands of glittering stars, the moon but a sliver. The ship gently rocks in the calm waters as a meager dot upon waves. Despite the moon's position already setting back down along the dark curtain of night and the crew's final decision to retire to their quarters, you're awake.

Lost in all the thoughts of how you've just begun to experience all Liyue has only to now be well on your way to Inazuma.

The dangers that others have spoken of, that you know are to come…you’re sure that your resolve will be tested once more in the unfamiliar land.

The silent repose is interrupted by a voice.

"May I join you, traveler?"

Kazuha.

As you've come to find in the few days you've been aboard the Alcor, the red-dressed man often sits and watches the way the waves roll along the surface of the ocean and the birds soar across the sky. Lost in all that the sea has to offer, there's hardly a moment when he's not tuned in to the whispers of nature in quiet appreciation. Though, you notice, never this toward morning.

Shuffling to the side, you pat the solid wooden deck beside you. He takes a seat with legs folded beneath him.

"It's beautiful tonight—the gentle breeze, the sounds of the water hitting the hull...I fully understand the appeal. But why is it you're still awake?"

Before tonight, you've hardly heard the gentle timbre of his voice. The raspiness—whether natural or from his own fatigue, you're not sure, but a feeling of warmth settles. It swirls, tempting. Breaking your thoughts, you politely meet his gaze.

"Thinking, of everything, I guess."

You pull your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them. Though it’s a warm night, the breeze provides a chill from the ocean.

"Of Inazuma, too."

Kazuha hums in understanding.

Once more, the silence of the ship and sea envelop you to drift back to your thoughts, closing your eyes and forgetting what your handsome companion just stirred in you.

But your mind drifts back to him regardless.

Your heart quickens at the thought of him staring out towards the sea, the sun shining down just right and highlighting pale hair and scarlet eyes.

There’s little doubt that he’s caught your eye, handsome, with an aura of unknown strength. A wanted man, from what Beidou has told you. Forever on the run and far from home. She fully believes there’s no need to worry, but you know others might think otherwise.

They whisper how it’s certain with the breathtaking skill he displays in his swordsmanship that his abilities come from a multitude of experience. Speaking of the way he keeps so to himself. A samurai with a lack of a master.

A ronin.

It’s not surprising, the rumors that spread quick.

Though, you find, the speculation of danger quickly dissipates once the realization of his gentle spirit and knack for poetry comes to light. He’s gentle, you realize. Kind.

It’s hard to believe someone as free-spirited as he would be a criminal.

Kazuha is patient, body turned so he’s facing you while you think, examining the look upon your features. The realization that you’ve been lost in your thoughts about the very man warms your cheeks. You finally speak up.

“And you?”

“Most of the same,” He replies. “There’s no need to worry—about Inazuma, I mean. After what I’ve seen, I trust in your abilities.”

His hand settles atop one of yours. Its touch is warm.

“I may not be able to join you, but I’m sure of this.”

You look back out to the deep blue waters. But he doesn’t move, not until you look back into eyes the color of the very maple leaves he dons.

Expression serious, Kazuha leans closer. The skip in your chest worsens the heat that creeps up your neck and cheeks. But as quickly as he does, he pulls away, his hand returning to lay in his lap.

“Away I have come, parting from her / Even as the creeping vines do part. / My heart aches within me…”

Wistful, he recites, and turns his gaze to the moon.

“A poem, from my homeland. Bittersweet in it’s meaning. Whether he sees his lover upon his return—it isn’t known.”

“Do you? Miss someone?”

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Not quite in the same way. A friend. Though I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to have someone like that. Someone to hold so dearly within your very being that the thought of being without them brings physical pain…”

A hand lifts, pressing to his chest as if trying to feel for heaviness.

The two of you watch the night for a bit longer in silence.

As your long and arduous journey dwindles, you find yourself seeking Kazuha’s company more and more.

Unbeknownst to you, he does the same.

Most often, it’s between duties on the ship, arms leaning against the wood banister as you both watch the waves and birds as they meet in swoops. They glide with wings tucked, diving into the murky waters, soon to break back through with a prize.

An osprey, he tells you.

The pleasant bird-watching comes quickly to an end before you’re both swept back into work until late afternoon when the crew gathers to drink and celebrate.

After all, there’s only a few days left until you finally dock at your destination and the night is beautiful and clear.

You find Kazuha tucked away towards the quarterdeck.

With everyone else scattered on the main deck, the two of you are left alone with the waves and wind.

“You’re not going to join them?”

He looks up from his drink, setting it down before rising. Despite the way the sun has set, you can clearly see the mirth dancing in his eyes. Kazuha stops a few inches away from your face with his head tilted in question.

“Weeks we have known each other now…should I be offended that you’re still asking that?”

Clearly the unimpressed look on your face is enough to make him chuckle and apologize.

“No, I won’t be joining them. Not when I’d rather stay away and have you to myself instead.”

You flush and give him a little push. Again, he laughs and apologizes but you know that he doesn’t mean it. Regardless, you brush past him to sit where he was before, patting the deck in a way not different from that first night. All the same, your heart skips a beat.

“May I join you, traveler?”

A smile spreads across your lips. “Of course.”

So he sits and the two of you find solace in the little conversations you have.

It��s nice, to have someone to be close to, to share interests despite having backgrounds so distinct. He offers you a bit of his drink and you take a sip, holding it between both your hands. The face you make, he decides, is unforgettable just as it is hilarious. But his innocent enjoyment only lasts so long.

A dribble of the deep liquid beads at the corner of your lip.

You miss the way that his attention flicks to the way your tongue peeks out to catch the glistening drop.

Kazuha shifts, eyes flicking from your lip back down to the cup in your hand.

When his hand touches yours, guiding you to place the cup down, you snort. But he continues so he can interlace your fingers with his, to hear the way your breath shifts and sees how your pupils dilate when you realize the difference in his mood.

Would you mind if he were to…?

When your lips part and your eyes lower to his, he gets his answer.

"I hear the way that your heart beats loudly in your chest, your breath bated...” Really, his own hammers in his chest, louder than the crash of waves against the ship’s hull. He squeezes your hand.

“Just as I can feel your desire."

And truthfully, you know he’s noticed the way your gaze lingers on him. How when you two accidentally brush hands that you don’t immediately pull away. Not anymore.

Small flashes of little interactions with him come to light.

Finally, he leans in, and you find that his lips taste of the lingering bitterness of wine, tongue sweet as it laps at yours. He looses himself in the velvet of your lips and how they seem to meld to his so perfectly, the music of your sighs filling his senses and your heart beats like the rumble of the ocean.

To know what it’s like to hold someone so dear…this must be what that is.

Languid, your lips move against each other’s, reluctant to stop. Under the light of the maroon sky, you’re cloaked in the warmth of his body against yours.

When he finally parts, you’re laying against the deck with him hovering above you.

“I don’t want to regret this—the mere thought of being apart…”

He brushes a stray hair from your face, fingertips tracing over the curve of your cheek.

“Even if it means I will be risking my life, I will follow where you go. Destiny has made its mark, so who am I to break it?”

How can you refuse, seeing the sincerity of his vow, trusting the very man you met and befriended and come to love in a few weeks’ time? To know his gentle nature, the way that he seems always so aware of the world around him, the carefree way he approaches all he does—you’d known, somewhere deep within, that the moment he asks to accompany you, you’d selfishly say yes.

But it’s all too much to express in word, so you pull him down to meet you, desperate and yearning.

It’s easy, natural, the way that you melt into each other, fumbling as he helps you stand up—to make your way to his quarters between kisses.

The others still are above deck celebrating, unaware of the blossoming bloom between you, the private quarters void of anyone else. The door to his room swings open as soon as he turns the knob and you take him by his lapels and pull him inside.

The door closes with a soft click.

Setting you down upon his berth, he meets you for another kiss before beginning the tedious task of undressing. Even in a hurry, he carefully folds each article, ensuring their safety. When he turns, you’re left bare as well, looking at him through halfmoon eyes.

In his lungs, his breath is caught.

You’re beautiful.

So he says it in word and in the way that he guides you to lay with his body between your spread legs.

You utter his name, cupping his cheek. He leans into your touch while you guide him back down to you. It takes little for him to follow your movements, drawn in like the sweet song of a siren.

He claims you in the kisses peppered over your lips and jaw, dragging down to dip in the hollow of your neck. Beneath him, your pulse jumps and your neck flexes. So he continues, reverent. Pledging loyalty with every brush of his lips against your skin.

Yours, all yours.

Busied with the sensation of him, you relax, offering yourself to his touch. His unbandaged hand travels over the soft planes of your body, cupping breasts and hip, careful as it travels to press fingertips into your thigh. It lingers, so close.

The feel of your hand timid on his chest encourages him to explore the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before finally, finally tracing along your wetted cunt.

“Please—”

His fingers tease, sliding up and down along it, making you shiver beneath him. A sight to behold, one that makes his heart sing and stutter at once. And they draw out a shaky moan when they press into you.

He takes his time in the movement of his fingers, coaxing you with a curve and the dulcet tone of his voice in your ear.

Left with his name on your tongue, your arms wrap around his neck, wanting him closer, closer. He obliges. All you want in this moment is him—impatience running quick.

Kazuha is taken by surprise when you take him into your hand, marveling at the way his hips press closer to your touch.

It’s strange to be touched this way, even with his past experiences. How it feels to be caressed by you so intimately, just the idea of it being you beneath him, touching him, him touching you. He wants more of it. And so he bucks into your hand with hot desire coursing through his veins.

For a while, the two of you delight in each other’s bodies.

When he draws his fingers from your core, he doesn’t bother with the way your slick clings to his skin, replacing your hand around his cock with his own and propping himself up with legs kneeled and hips slotted between yours.

With bated breath you observe as he gazes into your eyes.

Even so smoldered with desire, they’re impossibly clear and gentle, reflecting the very swirl of emotions you feel with every thump of your pulse. Leaning closer, Kazuha brushes his lips to yours, slow.

“You’re trembling—are you cold?”

The room feels fine despite your state of undress, though he continues before you can speak.

“Allow me to warm you up...”

When he finally kisses you deep, his hips press into yours and fill you.

The ship sways, each rock back and fourth amplified with how he holds you close to him, how he whispers sweetly in your ear and describes just how good it feels for you to squeeze around him like that. Once more you’re swept into all he gives you.

Kazuha thrusts, every movement deliciously slow. The brush of his cock against your walls makes your eyes flutter and your lips part with every gasp.

Every sigh draws him in deeper. Slow, fluid.

With the ebb and flow of his movements, you find yourself lost. He is the raging tempest dragging you down to the murky depths yet is the same gentle wind that cools you. You’re lost in the way that he moans your name in your ear and hips barely pull away from yours before burying back deep.

You—spread beneath him with your legs bent to his sides—in the dim light drives him. Kazuha finds that no matter where he looks, how close his body is pressed to yours, it’s never quite enough. Every sigh that’s drawn from your lungs is the voice that calls to him to wander.

He’s mesmerized.

Each push stirs that need in you for more, coming to life in the way that your body arches to meet his. Almost…as if feeling him against you is your lifeline—a deep, unyielding need. The same strange feeling that he knows is coming to life within him. And with how you so sweetly grasp at his shoulders in your hands, he’s certain it is.

His arm slides down, hand flat against your lower back to lift your hips. Eager, you comply. A few strokes of his hips with the delicious drag provided by the new angle, and you cry out in whimpers.

“Right there—please, please-“

Murmuring your name, his lips press to your ear and his hips speed up as he searches for that spot once more. He’s good—feels so so good.

A kiss to your temple accompanies the quick build of the knot deep in your abdomen, pulling taut and teasing your release.

“Where should I touch you?” The croon of his voice calls.

You guide his hand between your writhing bodies, a shock of pleasure jolting when the pad of his finger brushes against where you’re most sensitive. Only moments pass before your vision flickers, body tensing and a choked moan escaping past your ruddied lips.

It’s too much—his careful movements to hit the right spot and the way his fingers trace over your skin and he finds himself lost in the feeling as well. The lingering feeling of your high sends shocks with every movement he gives, both of you left trembling. Shaky hands try to grab at his chest and arm, pulling it away.

He stills, just holding you close.

He can feel it again, the flutter of your pulse, when his lips pepper kisses along your jaw and neck to bring you back to him.

Finally back from your high, Kazuha carefully slides from within you in lieu of laying by your side. You’re still breathing hard when careful movements pull the blanket from the foot of the bed over both of your forms. With an arm draped over your now covered hip, he smiles soft.

The wind howls outside.

"Do you really mean it, Kazuha?”

He lifts his arm so you can turn onto your side, looking up at him with your head on the pillow. It’s cute the way the soft material forms around your cheek. But you’re still waiting for his answer.

The ronin simply places a kiss on your forehead, the warm brush of his lips punctuating his words.

“I will follow you til the day the sun ceases to shine—so long as you are by my side, the wind shall blow and the tides ebb. This shall be my vow to you...”

It isn’t until your expression relaxes, lulled to sleep by his warmth and the gentle rock of the ocean, eyes closed and your breathing even that he speaks once more. It’s quiet, save for the creaking of wood and the faraway shouts of the crew above in their revelry. Here, laying besides you, the feeling within his chest carefully tended to, Kazuha finds a new purpose. A newfound desire.

“…whom I love with a love / deep as the miru-growing ocean.”