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winterzsurprise · 11 months

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Peaches and Cream || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x f!reader

Summary: There's a stark difference with how your husband and Miguel treats you, starting with how rough the latter can be.

Tags: SMUT, NOT BETA READ, unprotected sex, rough sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, spanking, pussy slapping (once), fluff (?), jealous!Miguel, Miguel has a big dick.

Words: 2.2k

I got distracted from writing domestic Miguel after he replaced the dad!Miguel after he got shot. This is shit, my apologies I'll do better and add more flavor next time, promiseee. Title is from the song I was listening to the whole time by Noah Davis.

I don't know how to navigate tumblr as a second blog but thank you to all your comments, reblogs and likes, it really does motivate me to write more and better stuff. Also thank you to two blogs for putting me in their recommendations! I made it guys :''DD!!

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || mi amor - my love || hermosa - beautiful || pobrecita - poor thing (correct me on this one please) || calladita - quietly (thank you sm @eminenceplant for this)

There's a stark difference between your husband and the man hovering above you like a predator about to pounce.

Your husband's hands were soft and loving as it caressed and wandered your body as he peppered kisses down from your neck and to your inner thigh. All of his gestures are a sweet concoction of loving and adoration.

Whilst Miguel's touch was desperate, territorial as he clawed down your flesh, human nails digging into your thighs and breasts as he left a trail of purple bruises around your neck, collarbones before stopping to nip at your hip bone. Everything he does is animalistic, deprived and hungry as if he hasn't eaten for centuries.

His red eyes were clouded with dark lust, glinted with something carnal, even feral, in the dark that got your spine tingling with anticipation.

To see and feel his perpetual desperation for your skin, your scent and desire for your touch had your pride piercing the heavens. To be wanted as he does like you're the air he breathes is dizzying and you can't help but want more.

It's exhilarating, addicting even.

It hasn't been long since you found yourself in love with another version of your husband, yet you grew to crave more of him as seconds ticked by.

Miguel's muscled arms curled around your thighs, forcing them open before pulling you flush to his face with a surprising strength. A pleased sigh escaped your lips as his hot breath fans over your pubic bone, hand falling to knot onto his hair and tugging him closer.

You soon realised why he paused on top of your mound as he inhaled you in, immediately your cheeks flamed.

"You smell heavenly, baby. So wet for me as well, makes me want to taste you."

You bite your bottom lip, nodding urgently as you tug him closer and he clicks his tongue.

"Hermosa, I need your words."

"Please darling? I'll be nice I swear, eat me out please."

Miguel doesn't need to be told twice, dipping his tongue onto your dripping folds. Your back arched at the sensation, after months of no intimacy following the change in your husband, your arousal lit your nerve endings ablaze.

His left hand that was digging into your flesh then reached to splay itself onto your abdomen, pinning you to the mattress as his tongue flicked your clit with a firm pace.

With every flicker of his appendage, hot pleasure rockets into your stomach, body growing feverish as pressure builds up inside your abdomen.

As if sensing your orgasm from the hitch of your breath alone, his right arm unwinds from your thigh to trail down to your fluttering entrance, caressing the rim so sweetly it hurts.

"Miguel please."

He ignored you, focusing on suckling on your clit with a reawakened fervor. You tugged onto his hair, hard enough for it to hurt, for him to listen to your pleas yet he only grunted, sending ample vibrations to quake your bones.

"Beg for it nicely, cariño. I want to hear you beg for me."

"I want your fingers in me, please! Miguel, baby, I want to feel you in me, please."

He groaned, it rumbled in his chest before sending shockwaves down your spine. Then he shoved two of his thick fingers inside you and you jerked. The burn of being breached got your blood buzzing as it mixed with the pleasure his tongue gave you.

If your husband was gentle with his fingers, inserting them one by one with utmost care, Miguel is everything he stands against.

His fingers immediately found a punishing pace, plunging in and out of you whilst curling up to touch the spongy spot in your walls. Encouraged by his digits, his tongue grew frantic as it sucked and flicked your clit rapidly, driving you closer and closer to your precipice. You opened your mouth to scream but it was caught short by his other hand clamping over your lips.

"Calladita, you're going to wake Gabriella up."

Miguel's gaze burns your face as he brings you pleasure atop pleasure with every thrust and lick .

To see your eyes roll back and your chest rise as you arch, the greedy monster claws at his neck, wanting for more reactions.

Bet her husband had also made her this way...

An ugly head reared out of the back of his brain, whispering taunts into his ears and reaching around with its rotten hands to blind his eyes.

With the bitter realization, his fingers pistoned in and out of you with a punishing pace, the heel of his palm slamming into your engorged clit as a pathetic wet squelch echoed in the room. The sudden change in pace got you writhing, your mewls muffled by his hand.

"So fucking wet for me, hermosa. Tell me, do you get this turned on for your husband?"

You didn't respond and that seemed to anger him, pulling his fingers out and cutting off the intoxicating thrum of heat in your veins and you whined, displeased. Hearing this, he brought his hand down for a firm slap onto your clit.

"Fuck…"

"You don't get to react, mi amor."

He sat up, pushing down his sweatpants along with his boxers and his erection stands, slapping against his stomach. Your eyes immediately caught the dribbles of pre-cum pulsing out of his tip and your tongue grew heavy, hand reaching out to grab onto his dick.

Miguel, in more ways than one, is bigger than your husband. Your hand barely closed up around his length and dread loomed over you. He's about to ruin you, mind and body, with this dick.

Fuck, will this fit in me?

"You're so big."

He chuckled darkly, fingers pinching your chin. "No, your husband's just lacking, hermosa."

You should've been angered by his comment but you couldn't find it in yourself to reprimand him for it. Instead, you find yourself flustered at his confidence.

"On your knees."

As if hypnotized, you followed despite the disappointment rumbling inside you for not being able to pleasure him.

You pushed yourself off of the mattress to turn but he was quicker, ever the impatient man that he is, his large hand splayed between your shoulder blades and pinned you to the cushion, forcing you to present your ass up at him.

"Darling? I really don't think it'll fit."

A resonating slap echoed in the room as he swatted your ass and you whimpered, body lurching away before strong arms dragged you back under him.

"You can and you will. I will make sure of it."

His cockhead poked your entrance and a thrill slithered down your spine. You looked down to your pussy, watching with rapt attention as he dragged himself up and down your folds.

The sight of his disheveled self with his head thrown back and mouth agape to let out groans made you shiver. How could someone look so attractive?

Miguel soon pushed in, the head of his dick immediately lodging into your small hole, stretching you wide as he slowly inserted more of his inches. The sting it brought got you gasping and grabbing tight onto the sheets, already feeling full to the brim with barely half of him in.

"Fuck, you're so tight for me. Pobrecita… your husband must've never fucked you wide open before."

Just when you thought it was done, he continued to push more of him. Your head grows light, pleasure shocking all your nerve endings awake from your legs and to the tip of your toes.

He didn't even let you rest, already pulling back and you almost shot up to grab him, scared he'd leave you hanging but Miguel left his cockhead in before thrusting all of his inches back in with one fluid motion and your mouth fell agape.

"Fuck…! Miguel please!"

"What a greedy girl. Don't worry baby, I'll treat you well tonight."

If his slow thrust already had your mind fuzzy from the pain of the stretch and pleasure, his callous and frenzied pace got you praying as he released shockwaves after shockwaves of bliss to shatter your bones and down to your trembling legs.

You barely had the mind to bite onto the sheet to muffle your cry as he drove manically behind you.

Seeing this, Miguel grew displeased. Despite knowing the reason for your actions, he wanted to hear how well he fucks you. It was childish trying to outdo someone he'd never encounter again but his pride is bruised.

That fucker got the chance to devour and have you pliant and panting under him for decades while he withered back in his lab trying to get rid of his unwanted addiction.

The bastard has ingrained himself into your body for years and he can't have that.

There should only be one man you should think about at night and be reminded of when you sit to feel the soreness rendering your lower body boneless.

"I'm gonna install noise suppressors in our room tomorrow then you'd be free to scream my name whenever you like, mi vida. You know how I love it when you cry for me."

You didn't say anything but instead nodded frantically. Fire licked every inch of your skin as the familiar tightness in your abdomen appeared, lightning shooting up your spine with every savage thrusts.

There was nothing else you could think of, focused on reaching your deserved nirvana and desperately shaking your hips to meet his thrust. Seeing how fucked and blissed out you were, Miguel groaned before swatting the globes of your ass, pulling a mewl from you.

"Look at you, so cock drunk for me. So beautiful… It makes me wanna tease you a little."

Feeling your orgasm being torn away as he slows, you whine and reach back to grab his hips, forcing him to piston in and out of you with a mewl. Miguel watched you with heavy lidded eyes, he has never seen such a sinful yet delicious sight until now.

If there was a scene he could ingrain into the back of his eyelids, this would be it.

You, so desperate for a release and trying to chase it when he refused to. Eyes glazed with tears of frustration as you gave up trying to control his hips and bucked your hips like a madwoman into his dick.

There's no such thing as guilt when he got to witness you in such a vulnerable state, only gratefulness.

"Mi cielo, please! Move, I want to come so bad please…!"

He had a different plan for the evening but if you begged so sweetly like that, there's nothing he wouldn't give you.

A house, a new ring with the biggest gemstone you love, the world, the universe or something as simple as a climax becomes acquirable if you want them so badly, he'd give it all to you.

"Anything for you, cariño."

Despite the callousness of his touch driven with wanderlust and desperation to the point of passionate worshiping, Miguel differs from your husband by being love-starved and his brimming confidence in pleasing you a hundred ways before tomorrow without breaking a sweat.

A welcomed and fresh change nonetheless, the difference only led you to fall deeper in love with him.

He drove his dick back into you with a fresh yet ravenous pace, pulling back till his cockhead remains before plunging all of himself in. Miguel's nails dug deep into your flesh enough to make you fear for a permanent dent in them.

Your skin flared as the coil in your stomach reawakened, tightening further and further with every thrust. The warmth is maddening yet deliciously addictive as it lashes out, wrapping around your swelling heart.

"Let me come please? I want it please…! Ah!"

He leant down while his hand reached down to roll your clit in tight eights, decreasing his pace yet hitting deeper as he swept the hair behind your ear before tugging it hard.

"Give it to me, mi vida. I want it all, come around me."

With his proximity and whispered command, there was nothing else you could do but burst.

Ecstasy easily drowns you as it floods your senses, white hot pleasure exploding behind your eyelids as you screamed into the sheets. Your orgasm rippled through you, shimmying under your skin and turning your limbs useless as they grew light.

There's nothing else you could call what you were feeling except 'heavenly'.

With the constant pulse of your velvet walls clamping down on him, Miguel soon followed with a deep resonating groan to his annoyance, painting your insides white with his liquid arousal.

It was a wonder he lasted this long after having only his hands to entertain him for years in the laboratory and spider hub. Nonetheless, he has his life to spend with you, years where he could discover and evoke your deepest desires.

Placing gentle kisses on your shoulders, he grinned. "Te amo cariño."

"I love you more…" You mumbled back, exhaustion weighing your eyelids. You barely picked up his clicking tongue before he spoke up, sounding determined as if it was set in stone.

"No sleeping, mi vida. We're not done yet, I have months to make up, no?"

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader one shot #marvel fics #marvel smut #spiderman smut #spiderman fics #astv miguel #astv fanfic

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twilightcitysky · 10 months

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Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 3)

Part one

Part two

There's SO MUCH excellent meta out there right now, and I'm going to try not to reinvent the wheel too much, but I want to keep going with tying the episodes/ elements up together because on first watch it wasn't entirely clear how everything fit. I also strongly recommend a rewatch, no matter what you felt about the ending... if you need to stop it 10 minutes early, do that, but you pick up so much more the second time around.

So: Maggie and Nina. I spent most of my first watch wondering why we were bothering with them, honestly. Later in the season Nina, and then Maggie and Nina, gave Crowley some insightful advice, but their actual relationship didn't progress despite all the meddling, and the amount of emotional investment BOTH Aziraphale and Crowley had in making them get together was frankly strange.

I started thinking in terms of mirror couples, since that was such a big deal in S1 and that's clearly what they were set up to be, but I made the mistake that all of us made on first watch: that Nina was Crowley and Maggie was Aziraphale. It still wasn't really coming together.

Then I put the psych hat back on and started to think about displacement. Displacement is a defense mechanism, and it consists of satisfying an impulse (usually an unconscious one) with a substitute object. At the beginning of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley aren't really in a good place, and I think on some level they know that. Aziraphale is trying to SHOW Crowley that he wants to take the next step through all the casual touches and phone calls and inviting him in, and feeling frustrated because Crowley doesn't seem to be taking the bait. (I absolutely think that Aziraphale tried to get Crowley to stay with him at the bookshop instead of living in his CAR, and Crowley said no. That's a whole other meta.) Meanwhile, Crowley, I think, is waiting for a Grand Gesture. Where did he go, as soon as Aziraphale brought up trying to get two humans to fall in love? Romantic tropes. Getting caught in the rain under an awning. A dramatic kiss that opens someone's eyes. That's the sort of thing he's always done, right? Big rescues, impassioned pleas on the street, fancy dinners, "give you a lift anywhere you want to go". He's defensive and guarded and unlikely to let someone in unless he's CERTAIN he won't be rejected, and Aziraphale's approaches are just too... quiet. No one's fault, they just don't speak the same language.

Then, they're handed the opportunity to make two humans fall in love, and they're both All In immediately. Look at Crowley's face when he summons the rainstorm. This is HUGE for him. Why? Because of displacement. Look at Aziraphale arranging the ball and being borderline deranged about it. They're both desperate to demonstrate what they think it takes for two people to move past their misunderstandings and fall in love. They can't do it for each other because the stakes are too high, and if either of them shows their cards unequivocally the vulnerability feels life-shattering. They're codependent and terrified of rejection and also, importantly, have no idea what they're doing when it comes to love. "Saw it in a film", Crowley says. Aziraphale's read about it in books. But they have zero practical experience.

Instead of learning to communicate, they try to say what they want to say through the medium of Maggie and Nina, up to and including the questionable moral decision to exert control over people's actions and thoughts during the ball. If I can just make this come out right, they both think, then things between us will be alright too. It HAS to come out right. They're attempting to gain some control over their own lives, over something that feels so overwhelming and shattering they can't look directly at it.

It doesn't come out right. Nina's relationship falls apart, but that doesn't mean she's in love with Maggie. While Crowley's stress-cleaning the bookshop to the music that played when Aziraphale got his books back in 1941 (just fuck me up David Arnold), they come in and tell him so. "I don't understand", says Crowley. Because it should have worked. Why didn't it work?

They tell him, of course. "You need to talk to each other. Say what you're really thinking." But here's the thing about communication: you have to learn it. You need to get the hang of expressing your feelings without blaming your partner, and separating intent from impact, and staying away from getting defensive and lashing out. No one has ever taught Aziraphale and Crowley how to do this. It's like Maggie and Nina put Crowley in front of a loom and asked him to recreate the Bayeux Tapestry. He doesn't have the skills; he's always going to get it wrong, even if he tries his hardest.

And he does try. But that's where Maggie and Nina the mirror couple, rather than Maggie and Nina the displacement relationship or Maggie and Nina the Greek chorus, come in. Aziraphale, as Nina, has just ended an incredibly toxic, invasive relationship with Heaven. A relationship that invaded every facet of his life, isolated him, and prevented him from being close to anyone else. "Rebound mess," Nina says. Aziraphale is a rebound mess. He's transferred the responsibility for his emotional wellness to Crowley. Crowley is the person he calls when he's in trouble, or (and this is key) when he wants to report a clever/ good thing he's done, or when he's bored. (At no point did Crowley reference Aziraphale calling him for a solicitous reason-- another problem.) Crowley is meant to take care of him. He forgets, I think, that Crowley is a person with his own wants and needs, just like Maggie and Nina are people with their own wants and needs who don't appreciate being messed with. (I think things would have been much different had Aziraphale BEEN THERE for Maggie and Nina's talk with Crowley, but he wasn't.)

And Maggie-as-Crowley? Lonely. Behind on rent, at risk of being evicted (it's important to note that Aziraphale saves Maggie from losing her record shop, as he couldn't save Crowley from losing his flat). Pining. Awkward. Revolving around Nina like a planet, to the extent that we don't get much of an impression of her otherwise. They realize, there at the end, that they both need to round themselves out before jumping into a relationship. Aziraphale and Crowley need that too. They need to take time apart and learn to be healthy on their own. Unfortunately they don't have the skills to get to that conclusion in a healthy way, so it all explodes in their faces and everything falls apart.

Aziraphale tries to teach Nina and Maggie to dance as a substitute for communication. Nina and Maggie try to teach Crowley communication as a substitute for the dance they've been doing around each other. That's the reason they're a part of the plot: they exist to demonstrate the way Aziraphale and Crowley might have succeeded in forging a better dynamic. Sadly, the boys' dance is too practiced and they got sucked right back into it.

It's okay, I think, that Nina and Maggie's storyline never really went anywhere. It wasn't supposed to. It's an allegory, not something that needs to stand alone.

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens analysis #good omens season 2 #gos2 #good omens season two #crowley #aziraphale #maggie #nina #defense mechanisms #the psychology of good omens #everything is meant #ineffable husbands

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imaginedanvrs · 25 days

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cancer's a bitch

masterlist

natasha romanoff x reader

2.3k words

warnings: reader has cancer and there's no happy ending. major character death

summary: at a time you need her the most, Natasha is nowhere to be found

“The results came back positive. I’m sorry. The next steps will be to start…” You couldn’t hear anything past that. It became white noise to the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears, an instant emphasis of your ebbing mortality.

You knew about all the treatments your doctor was trying to explain to you, you had been on a deep dive down the web about them every night since you first went seeking help about your suspicions. Now that they were confirmed, you wondered who you should tell first. How could you even begin to find the words to tell anyone that you had cancer?

That was all you could think about on the journey home. Natasha would be there and you weren’t sure whether to tell her outright or wait for the right time. You wouldn’t know how much of that you had until you knew how your body took to the treatment. Best case scenario, the chemo would nip it in the bud and never return. It would be a thing of the past before you could fully process it as a terrifying present. Worst case scenario… Well, it didn’t do to think about it.

You needed to talk to Natasha.

When you finally got home, your heart plummeted further at the sight of your girlfriend packing. You knew that the frantic nature she took to grabbing items meant that she had been called on a last minute mission and that it was probably urgent. You also knew that she could be gone for some time. It could be weeks - weeks you would spend relaying the difficult conversation in your head. Weeks you could spend without her there to comfort you in your crushing fear for your life.

“Hey, babe,” you greeted as you hung up your jacket. If her mind wasn’t so preoccupied with work she would have asked where you’d been.

“Hi. Sorry I know we had plans tomorrow but I’ve been called away,” Natasha told you without looking your way, too focused on filling her bag as quickly as possible. You sat down on the edge of your bed and watched the redhead for a moment, debating whether or not to ask her not to go. You had never done that before, nothing had been that important.

“You think you could skip? I need to talk to you,” you muttered, threading your fingers together to stop them trembling.

“I can’t skip a mission for a date, detka,” Natasha huffed. You swallowed.

“It’s not that,” you said with a forced chuckle. “I’ve just been to the-”

“Y/n, I need to go,” she told you pointedly.

“There are other agents.” You didn’t mean it to sound like a plea, to sound like a child trying to convince their parents not to leave them on the first day of school.

“It’s important,” Natasha said, zipping up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “There are things going on that you don’t understand.” That hurt.

“Natasha please,” you tried, not caring how desperate you sounded. Still, she continued for the door. Maybe if she had looked at you properly instead of kissing your cheek in passing, she would have seen the worry written over your features in bold. “Please don’t go.”

“I love you, I’ll see you soon,” she called over her shoulder.

“I love you too but I-” you were cut off by the apartment door closing in your face. “I’m not well,” you whispered. She was already gone.

There were numerous people you could have called to pick you up from your first round of treatment. It was also highly recommended. You were exhausted, but taking a taxi home was the easiest solution, because it meant you didn’t have to tell anyone where you were.

It had been a couple weeks since your diagnosis and Natasha still wasn’t home. You still weren’t sure how to approach the subject with anyone you knew, counting on your girlfriend to hold your hand through the process. But she wasn’t there by your side and she wasn’t there to take you home.

Wanda would have been a good person to tell. She was the kind of friend who would drop everything to be with you when you needed her. She would have picked you up. She would have pulled over to hug you when you began to cry silently in the back of the taxi. She would have figured out a way to call Natasha home but she couldn’t…because she was imprisoned.

The battle of Leipzig airport hit the news by storm, as did everything that followed. Half were imprisoned and the rest were either on the run or playing lap dogs to the government, leaving you alone. Upon hearing that your girlfriend was an outlaw, you were able to piece together that you wouldn’t be seeing her for a long time. Nor would you see your friends. You were deserted.

You collapsed over the toilet once you were home, bringing up the contents of your stomach as your weakened knees groaned in protest from the impact. They were already bad - your legs - having been the area the cancer was attacking, but every short track you made seemed to make the pain worse. So much so that you were tempted to let the exhaustion overtake you on that very bathroom floor. You just wanted to close your eyes in hopes of having a short break from your reality.

Instead, with a small whimper, you forced yourself up and towards the bedroom. The sheets didn’t smell like Natasha because you had had to wash them a few days prior. You had sprayed some of her perfume on her side of the bed but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t her. Still, you clung to her pillow as if it was, imagining her strong arms wrapping around your frame tenderly. She always protected you in your weakest moments, except that one. Except the worst.

Weeks turned into months and things became considerably harder. The pain was progressing with the cancer, working its way deep into your bones despite the aggressive treatment you had. At the start, a bad day was not being able to make it into work. After months, a bad day was not being able to get out of bed. The treatment wasn’t working.

“We need to operate,” your doctor told you. You peered at the frown lines along his forehead, wondering how many people he had given that news to before you. How many people had sat in the chair you were in, listening to the doctor tell them their body was failing to fight off a biological evil? Were their loved ones sitting in that office with them, occupying the empty seat next to you? Were they waiting outside? Were they a phone call away? You should call your parents. Nothing buried the hatchet like telling your parents you were dying, right?

You didn’t want them though, you wanted Natasha, wherever she may be. She could be dead. Perhaps if she was, you would be together sooner than it would take for her to come out of hiding to see you just once. You didn’t want that. You weren’t that selfish. You hoped she was okay, better than you at least. But you were selfish enough to wish she would come see you, just once. It would be dangerous, stupidly reckless. There were no doubt eyes on your home at all times, waiting for Natasha to come back for you. That was why she couldn’t come. Yet you still couldn’t help but think fuck the risk, please just come hold my hand.

That was all you could think as you were wheeled into surgery and when the mask was placed over your face. You didn’t wish for success or recovery. You wished for her. You were naive to even try. She wasn’t there when you woke up and even though you hadn’t expected her to be, it still hurt to see the visitor chair next to your bed empty. You weren’t desperate for company, if you were you would have called your parents. You had always prided yourself on handling things on your own, even the burdens you could share with others. So no, you didn’t want sympathy, cards, flowers or visitors. You didn’t even care that you still had to get a taxi home instead of having someone waiting for you in their car. You just wanted a text from your girlfriend, to know that she was still out there somewhere thinking of you - caring about you.

Even after a year, you refused to give up on the dream Natasha would some day come home. You still celebrated your anniversary. You celebrated her birthday. You placed a present under the small tree for her on Christmas, leaving it there even after you took the tree down. You left the first aid kit on the windowsill in the bathroom. You always made sure there was a fresh pb&j sandwich on the kitchen counter when you went to bed. Even when keeping the apartment clean and tidy became too difficult for you, you ensured that anything Natasha might need, should she come home, be out ready for her.

After two years, your doctor refused to continue your treatment. It was causing internal bleeds. It was stripping you of energy you didn’t have to start with. It made you sick. You were entering stage four, something that didn’t always mean you were approaching the end of the road. But in your case, you were.

Then, finally, you received a text.

Unknown number: new jersey, tmrw. I’ll send you an address once you land -n

You blinked at your phone. You weren’t going to make it downstairs, never mind to the airport. There was a high chance Natasha had destroyed the phone as soon as she sent the message, but you had to at least try and find a way to say what you needed to.

Me: goodnight, see you in the morning :)

It was code, something you had come up with years ago. It was a text you had always dreaded receiving but had never pictured yourself sending. Why would you? Your girlfriend was the spy who’s life was always in danger in some sense, yet it was you preparing for what would come next.

You closed your eyes, content in the fact you had managed to say goodbye in some sense. It wasn’t the way you wanted, but it was better than nothing.

You awoke, two days later, to the sound of your window being opened. You opened your eyes but couldn’t raise your eyelids more than half way, adding to the poor visibility the night time provided. You only saw the figure when it moved, but you weren’t alarmed by the presence of something unknown no matter what it could mean. You hoped it meant you weren’t going to be alone when you went, no one deserved that.

“Y/n,” Natasha’s name pierced through the room. Your breath hitched in your throat but you were unable to answer. Your throat was sore and you hadn't had a drink in a long time. You didn’t have the strength to grab the glass on your bedside table.

Natasha turned the lamp and you really wished she didn’t. You didn’t know what you looked like, but the last time you saw your reflection you were greeted with someone you didn’t know. Would Natasha see it that way? Wonder where her girlfriend had gone? She had always been an expert on concealing her emotions, but her shock then was clear. Not just that, she was scared. You knew that feeling all too well. It had taken her place as the one constant in your life.

“What…are…” She was at a loss for words, you noted. She took a tentative step that allowed her to be close enough to see the tears brimming in her eyes. God, you always loved those emerald eyes.

Natasha brought the glass up to your lips and you managed two sips before turning your head away. “What do I do?” She asked, voice shaking. Your hand managed to find hers, linking them together with the intention of never letting go until you had taken your last breath. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, squeezing your hand. You managed a smile. “I love you so much.”

“Love you.” There was so much more you wanted to say. How much you missed her, how you had waited for her to come home. You wanted to rush her out of the apartment under the fear she would be caught, but you also wanted to tell her that you had been hanging on for her, keeping the grim reaper outside your door until you were ready to take his hand.

“God I…” Natasha also had a lot she wanted to say. She wanted to tell you how not a single day went by where she didn’t want to come running home or at least send a text. How she regretted ever joining a battle that seemed so insignificant in comparison to you laying there. She wanted to tell you about her family and how much she had told them about you and that they had even promised to keep an eye on you as she continued on the run. She wanted to tell you that she was going to be at a loss without you, but seeing the exhaustion on your face, she didn’t want to keep you from your rest any longer. You had waited long enough for her.

“It’s okay. You can go now. I love you so much and I’ll never stop loving you. You’ve done so well and I’m so proud, you can go to sleep now.”

Natasha didn’t want you to see her cry. It took all of her will power to hold it back until the final rise and fall of your chest. She bit back a sob, watching the light in your eyes finally dim so that they could take their place among the stars.

#natasha romanoff #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #gxg marvel #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff imagines #natasha romanoff angst

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satoruly · 4 months

Text

no matter what you say or what you do

the sweet normalcy right after a routine encounter. an implicit confession the two of you may not be ready to address.

tags&warnings. MDNI, drabble, implied fwb, suggestive, hints of sub!satoru bc it's what he deserves.

psa. i was so tempted to make this a pinning long shot, yall let me know what u think! mdni banner by @/cafekitsune

“when i’m alone i’d rather be with you.”

You washed your hands while he rambled on and on as his heartbeat settled down back to its normal rhythm. He had cemented himself in the middle of the bed, staying put right where you had rolled off him as he caught his breath. The puffs leaving his lips were a reminder of the breathy whimpers he let out when he was close.

The thought made you shudder, a small smirk on your face as you recalled your previous endeavours. His voice saturated with cheeriness was so unlike his desperate pleas — please, I need to be inside you, please — and needy moans. Not that you were complaining. You loved listening to him talk. The juxtaposition was funny though. The duality of this man only made him more lovable.

He was still talking even when you came back, rambling about his adventures with Shoko and Suguru while you were locked in the library finishing a paper. The rising and falling of his chest now even, it was a no-brainer for you to lay your head right on top of him, letting his arm wrap itself around your shoulders and pull you closer.

His skin was warm against your cheek, and though you preferred to be the one embracing him, being able to be up close enough to hear the thumping of his heart going up in speed was always worth it.

“And then Suguru had to buy me a coffee because he lost the bet!” He all but giggled, either happy at his friend’s misery or happy to have gotten a triple caramel frappe with extra whipped cream and sprinkles. You could never know.

“It was about time you won one of those.” You teased, chuckling as he made a sound of complaint followed by a lazy yawn. He pulled you closer and naturally, you let your leg rest over his abdomen.

He had changed into the pair of briefs you had tossed at him after cleaning him up, kissing his nose before heading to the bathroom to fix yourself up.

It had become a bit of a routine by now. After a stressful day, night or whichever excuse any of you could find, the two of you would get together to participate in what you branded as a ‘healthy coping mechanism’. One that 9 out of 10 orthodontists would recommend, but would be discredited by any decent therapist that gathered how the lines between platonic and the antonym of platonic were starting to blur.

“You’re always so mean to me.” He whined, nuzzling his cheek on top of your head as you chuckled, fingers tracing indistinguishable patterns on the planes of your shoulder blades. He sucked in a breath before mumbling an argument in his favour, seeing as you had found his statement anything but serious. “Like, you edged me eight times tonight.”

“Because you like it!”

“It’s still mean!”

Touche. It wasn’t the best defence he could’ve come up with but your laugh was contagious. It made him forget about his cheeks, now redder than ever, and indulge in your warmth against him.

If it was up to him, he would stay like this all day.

“You're a bad stress reliever.”

Letting his hand roam down your spine as his words kissed your ears, he hooked his pointer finger around the band of your underwear, pulling on the elastic and letting go, making you yelp in surprise.

He giggled at your reaction. Also at his own antics. No matter how many times he did it, you were always caught by surprise. He was sneaky at all times. When you weren’t expecting it, the prickling of the cloth against your skin, but also when you were expecting him to do something.

Still, though you shivered in response, a poorly hidden mischievous grin always grazed your lips in return

“You wouldn’t survive a day without me.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he sighed in utter bliss. With you next to him, your skin on his skin. He liked to think that if it were up to you, you’d choose to stay like this too. “I wouldn’t.”

#🍒 — from the vault #🍒 — jjk's version #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujuts kaisen x reader

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 7 months

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First off, love your writing, IT MAKES ME FEEL THINGS😭😭 but…

Can we please get more of yandre emo boy Ashton I JUST READ IT AND IM DROOLING SCREAMING CRYING GIGGLING AMD KICKING MY FEET😭🧎‍♀️🤪🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

THANK YOU❤️❤️🤭🤭🤭

(If not that’s okay, ignore this bae🫶)

Yandere! Stereotypical! Emo and his beloved popular bitch

Ayo, thank you for the compliment! I'm glad my writings made you feel things (I don't know what though LMAO)

Actually, I'm not planning to follow up Ashton, but hey, at least it would break my writer's block (lol it's just laziness) so here ya go!

Sorry that it took days though 😔

FOR THIS ONE, I RECOMMEND READING THE FIC FIRST BEFORE THE DRABBLE (this one).

Read the yandere emo fic here!

💌Little Ashton was misunderstood a lot as a child. He never really liked the same things the other children liked, and he had this morbid curiosity with death and occult.

💌Of course, this undoubtedly scared his family, making him out to be some sort of psychopath.

💌This irked Ashton of course. He's just... That. He still loves his parents, and nothing would change that.

💌But the fact that they're so conservative that it's actually bringing Ashton down is what drove him over the edge to find a school far, far away from his family.

💌A small, quaint town, yet filled with teenagers. It was kind of a nightmare when Ashton found out, but he gritted his teeth and thought that maybe, with the current years, maybe they won't judge him. Maybe.

💌So, he indulged more in his Emo lifestyle. He religiously listened to green day, Panic! At the Disco, My Chemical Romance...

💌He even got into writing poems as a way to put out his feelings that he never got to tell other people.

💌 He's actually very sensitive with emotions and feelings. So technically, he should be a great friend candidate, right?

💌But once he got into the school year, that's when he knew, that his life would be living hell. Stereotypes left and right. Mean cheerleaders and jocks that ostracized his choice of clothing, snobby rich students that turn their noses on him just because he's not that rich, geeks and nerds that keeps getting in his way, thinking he's one of them.

💌"Fuck. Get me out of here. Nobody understands me."

💌He didn't realize himself, but he's also slowly being a stereotype. Always alone, writing poems, and being unnecessarily nihilistic.

💌Until of course, one day, you transfered. You, your pink rover, and your slutty little outfit.

💌God, just looking at you and your charming personality made Ashton hard fall for you.

💌He wants you. So bad.

💌So he dabbled back into the occults. He found an old book in an abandoned "witch's hut" that he went on a mad hunt for weeks. Apparently, the witch that lived there was a matchmaker witch, who gave love potions to those really desperate.

💌At first, Ashton didn't believe it. Especially that it involves sampaguita, a flower not native to his town. How did the witch even get the flowers?

💌But there he was, mixing and creating the potion under the moonlight and putting your hair and his in the pot. Creating a love potion that smelled like the sampaguitas he had to smuggle in.

💌He wrote you letters everyday, obsessing and hyper fixating on your allure and beauty. Confessing over and over again on paper that looks old and aged with writing that looks like it came from a fountain pen. With a spritz of the love potion, he would put it in your locker.

💌God, who knew that it would work?

💌Day by day, he watched you read the letters. At first, you were disgusted (much to his dismay) but slowly, you started to read the letters with a neutral face, then a smile, then with a squeal and then a desperate plea for him to come and fuck you already.

💌Maybe putting his... Semen on your love potion got you desperate for him carnally, rather than romantically.

💌But no fretting, he would just make you fall for him.

💌And as you moan and scream out his name as he pounds into your tight hole like the feral, fuck machine he is,

💌He was pleading to the moon to see his bleeding heart and bare soul to make you his.

💌And if the moon won't allow it,

💌Well, it's nothing more love potions won't do.

💌"my beloved, why don't you drink this sweet tea I made? Why is it pink and smells floral? It's a new tea from Japan. Sakura, from what I know. It's glowing? Nonsense, love. It's probably just the lighting."

💌"Now drink up, don't let a drop go to waste."

#yandere boyfriend #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere drabbles #lizzaneiaelizalde

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iwtvdramacd18 · 2 months

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Well y'all know I have to do it. Louis T4T fic reclist

for @iwtvfanevents A meal 2 remember event! I'm picking one to highlight per person here but everything is HIGHLY recommended and many folks here have multiple T4T and trans hits as well as collabs!. (And I'm not telling you who, you better give them a click through)

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

I am amazed by peace–@dictee

This was a holiday surprise so desperately needed. There's an intimacy to every description here, I think of some deep conveying of wanting... wanted to be wanted and wanting to want in turn, and the joy of knowing you can be! And you can have that. One of those fics that feels like a film in your head. Whenever this updates my day stops so I can enjoy it.

try to swallow the wave– @diasdelfuego

Mindblowing use of prose, bringing disconnect and identity to the forefront. Mixing heartbreaking emotion and unexpected elation. I can't believe you first published this anonymously because I was lamenting the fact I couldn't give the author flowers... AND NOW I CAN. Brought a tear to my eye when I first read it. I get chills just thinking about reading it again.

Snow in the Champagne– @nakiaslilhoodoo

There is something masterful about taking these bigger than life characters and bringing them to a very relatable, intimately mundane level, the ability to take these "smaller" moments and give them weight and heat and humor. Grounding in small objects, rituals of love, that's the type of stuff I love.

cleave/tie– @kittyldpdl

What an emotional ride. Can you just call a fic "fleshy" and leave it like that? Carnality and horror, this is something I want to talk about at length but can't for hear of spoiling the experience. I live for the levels of trans parenthood on display as well. Scars in fiction that make you slam your phone down and shout NO WAYYYYY.

Allude me, Pursue me, Consume me.– @salmoncakepls

Angela Carter is nodding along to this.... LOVE the fairy tale trappings and the bleeding of human into animal and past the two thresholds. Incredible imagery that sticks to the mind, once again trans parenthood let's make it crazy let's make it insane. Ending chapter had me holding my breath.

perpetuum mobile– @knifeeater

I wanna pretend like I have something indepth to say about this. I really do. Because the depth is there. Thinking about vampirism in the far flung future, vampire bodies like orbiting planets and satellites. But also. This is just really fucking hot WE FUCKING? IN THE FAR OFF FUTURE????

breath, held– @enterprisery

Love the exploration of brief returns to humanity in an erotic sense, vampiric play with the vulnerability of mortality? The focus on sensation (and brief letting go of it), the communication and heat behind it, love to see Loumand getting down in this way.

Once Upon a Wine-Dark Sea– @weather-mood

Recommending the entire series because like many worthwhile many-chaptered many forked stories there's a lot of context to be taken in (and by all means you should take it in, the whole is recommended), Charybdis is chiefly what puts this in this list specifically, and ofc I must point to Tidelines, ongoing; another fairy tale/ mythic epic.

And here are some rapid-fire fic recs featuring trans Louis:

rhododendron– @blueiight (MY BELOVED...)

in a lonely place–@devotiondroid (FINE you're the final nail selling me on danlou noir....)

Charred–@blacclotusss (ANOTHER HOLIDAY BANGER)

Pleas on Deaf Ears–@ bloodiedroses (WHEW)

#a meal to remember #others fic #fic recs #reclist

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prythianpages · 7 months

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ACOSM | The Night they joined the Bloodrite

azriel x rhysand's sister (oc)

warnings: angst, mentions of abuse and violence

summary: Valeria bids farewell to Rhys, Cass and Az as they are to particpate in the bloodrite, hoping they all return to her.

A/N: this is an imagine among my collection of imagines that follow Rhysand's sister, Valeria. while I'm still working on them, you can find the masterlist for it here. I couldn't help myself and post this imagine today. As promised, things are about to get angsty and sad. There will also be more explanations to what unfolds here in the upcoming imagines.

The day had arrived when the men in her life, her closest and dearest, prepared for their participation in the upcoming Bloodrite. A formidable Illyrian tradition that tested their strength and valor. It was such a pivotal time for Illyrian males of age, so much that the High Lord of the Night Court graced Windhaven with his regal presence to bid his son and heir luck and farewell.

However, for Valeria, the sight struck a chord of envy. Her father made sure to show up and extend his support to Rhysand but he had failed to do the same for her birthday dinner just last week. It was a painful contrast that lingered in her heart.

Lady Yvaine, standing by Valeria’s side, sensed her daughter’s emotions and offered a comforting squeeze before letting it go. The three of them had stopped by Windhaven’s tents in the training grounds of the camp, where all Illyrian males participating in the bloodrite would spend the night before being winnowed to the guarded Ramiel, Windhaven’s sacred mountain.

The morning sun cast a golden hue over the training grounds as Valeria stood among her brother and his closest friends—Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel. The air was tense with a mix of excitement, anticipation, and underlying worry. She stared at all three of them. Sensing her distress, Noctis, perched on her shoulder as always, tenderly nuzzled his small head against her neck in a sweet caress.

“Please come back to me.” Valeria said, her voice carrying an almost desperate plea. “All three of you.”

Cassian grinned, his usual bravado shining through. "You know us, Val. We'll make sure to come back in one piece and be victorious."

Cassian had come prepared to say his farewells to Valeria. Since he knew his charming grin and words would not be enough to ease her anxiety, he pulled something out of his small satchel. Valeria’s eyes landed on the book–a gift for her. “I meant to give this to you for your birthday but knowing you, you would’ve finished it by now.”

Valeria stared down at the book in her hands. The title hinted at a romance novel but a subtle gesture from him hinted that there was more beneath the cover. She discreetly peeled the cover off to reveal a book on Illyrian training and fighting. Her heart swelled at his gesture. Cassian had always been encouraging to her passion for training and fighting.

A note on the first page bore a handwritten message: For my little warrior, may the wind always guide your wings.

Valeria chuckled as her gaze fell to the bottom of the page where another message was written: P.S. please don’t cause any chaos while we’re gone. You know I have a great fear of missing out on the fun.

“Think of this as your homework while I’m gone. I want you to read it”--Sensing the determination in Valeria, he decided to add–”at a steady pace and when I return, I want you to show me what you have learned.”

Valeria nodded appreciatively. “I’ll do just that. Thank you, Cas.”

She proceeded to envelop Cassian in a warm, tight hug. He chuckled lightly as Noctis emitted a small squawk, momentarily caught off guard by the strong embrace, before adjusting himself.

“I didn’t know you enjoyed romance novels so much.” Rhysand quipped, noticing the faint smile on Valeria’s face.

“Only the ones Tanwyn recommends.” Valeria quickly hid the truth of the book's content from her brother, who wouldn't have approved of such reading material, especially not when their father was around. “Thank you, Cassian.”

Valeria tried her best to hide her worry as she looked at her brother. She knew he was capable–they all were. Yet she was unable to shake off the fear that gnawed at her heart. So many what ifs plagued her thoughts. Sensing her worry and anxiety, Rhysand stepped forward as Cassian excused himself to say his farewells with their mother, who was currently hugging Azriel.

Rhysand, though masked with confidence, showed a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. "We'll be back before you know it." He assured her. He pulled her into a tight hug, being careful as to not hurt the bird that was perched on top of her shoulders as Cassian did moments ago. That damn bird, he couldn’t help but think, a mix of annoyance and strange fondness swirling within him.

“I love you, Val.”

“I love you too, Rhys.” Valeria replied, squeezing her brother’s hands. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, as if engraving the image of her older brother into her mind. Stop, she told herself. Your brother will come back. They all will.

I promise, Rhysand whispered into her mind. She had been so consumed in her thoughts that her mental shields wavered, allowing him to enter with ease. He then projected an image of his arm, that was currently concealed by his leathers. Intricate black swirls etched themselves into the form of a mountain with three stars above its peak. Valeria felt a tingling sensation on her own arm, mirroring the pattern of black ink Rhysand showed her. A bargain tattoo. A mountain with three stars–Ramiel–a promise of his definite return, bringing a small sense of ease to her.

Rhysand gently withdrew, shifting his attention to Noctis. “Keep her safe for me, Noctis.”

Noctis responded with a strong chirp, bowing his head and extending his wings in promise. Rhysand felt a sense of gratitude toward the bird, appreciating their shared love and protectiveness over Valeria. Pressing a brief kiss to his sister’s forehead and a loving pet to Noctis’s head, Rhysand went to join Cassian and say his farewells to their parents.

Azriel seized the moment to bid his farewell to Valeria. Noctis let out a chirp as he spread his wings and flew to Azriel, finding temporary shelter on the Shadowsinger’s shoulders. Azriel’s shadows greeted the bird as a dear friend, embracing Noctis with their gentle tendrils of darkness.

“I don’t know who will miss you more. Me or Noctis.” Valeria mused with a soft smile on her lips.

Azriel chuckled as he stepped forward, bridging the space between them. There was so much he wanted to say to Valeria, but he knew he had to be careful with his words.

His shadows, now displaying a playful dance of joy over his shoulders, redirected their attention from Noctis to Valeria. They caressed her cheek tenderly and then her neck. Azriel’s eyes followed their every movement, pausing at the necklace she wore. It was the necklace Azriel gifted her on her birthday–an elegant silver piece radiating enchantment with its mesmerizing moonstone, which was delicately cradled within a silver frame shaped like a crescent moon.

Valeria’s heart quickened its pace as Azriel, with a tenderness that spoke volumes, brushed against the moonstone wrapped around her neck. A faint smile graced his lips, a rush of warmth filling him, at the sight of her wearing his gift. The moonstone with its ethereal, milky hue, captured and reflected the light in a way that reminded him of her own unique powers. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw a delicate coil–a fine thread of gold and silver–radiate from the necklace. It vanished as swiftly as it had appeared, disappearing within the blink of an eye.

"I'll wear it every day, waiting for your return," Valeria assured him.

"Only until I return?" Azriel teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

"You know what I mean," Valeria replied, her cheeks flushing with warmth.

"Hmm," Azriel hummed, his touch lingering as he softly grazed from her neck to her cheek, mirroring the caress of his shadows. His breath caught as her free hand sought his free hand, her thumb gently tracing soothing circles on the back of his scarred hand.

“I’ll be waiting for you, Az.” Valeria said softly, her violet eyes looking up at him with a depth he had never seen before. He had never been this close to her. He could appreciate the details in her violet irises he hadn’t noticed before. They were a delicate kaleidoscope of purple and blue hues, swirling like a myriad of galaxies within a vast universe. A universe he desperately yearned to explore and unravel.

A surge of emotion washed over Azriel, a longing to express what had been growing inside him for so long. He wanted to kiss her, to show how much she meant to him. Despite his confidence in his abilities as an Illyrian warrior, a small fear lingered…that this could be his one and only chance to kiss her, to taste her.

He leaned in, his breath fanning her face.

But he hesitated at the very last moment and pulled away, his fingers brushing over her lips instead. An unspoken promise. An assurance that he would kiss her. But at a different time. Perhaps, upon his triumphant return from the bloodrite.

“And I'll be sure to return to you, Val.” He finally managed to say, gently removing his hand from her face.

The weight of the unspoken hung in the air and all of his shadows returned to him, displaying disappointment and seeming to chastise him for his shyness. Even Noctis seemed to shoot him a look as he returned to Valeria’s shoulder.

Valeria, too, felt a flicker of disappointment as she reluctantly increased the distance between them, her grip loosening on his hand.

Caught up in the moment, she turned her gaze with worry and anxiety, wondering if anyone had seen them. However, a sense of relief washed over her as she realized Cassian and Rhysand were still engrossed in conversation with her parents, oblivious to what had just happened between Azriel and herself. She didn’t even know what to call it herself, but surely, he was about to kiss her right? She quickly strengthened her mental shields at the thought.

The two walked over to the group to say their final goodbyes. Lady Yvaine pulled Valeria into her side, wrapping an arm around her daughter’s shoulder. Unknowing to Valeria or Azriel, her mother had noticed their close embrace and provided a distraction for them to have their moment.

With a heavy heart, Valeria watched as the three men she treasured the most departed. She stood there, the weight of their absence already felt in her heart and the unknown outcomes weighing heavily on her mind. The shadows of worry danced on her face, a silent prayer for their safe return whispered in the winds.

The crisp air kissed Valeria's cheeks as she glided gracefully across the frozen lake, her skates leaving delicate imprints on the ice. Mallory, her friend, was her companion on this chilly afternoon. Noctis watched with interest from on top of a tree branch as the girls danced around one another. It wouldn’t be long before their cherished frozen lake would thin and eventually melt as spring was already fastly approaching.

Despite the sun shining down on them, Valeria felt a sudden shiver racing down her spine. Windhaven’s wings were always chilling and unforgiving when present. Mallory, noticing her friend's discomfort, swiftly unwound the large gray shawl from her shoulders and offered it to Valeria.

"Here, take this. It'll keep you warm," Mallory insisted, a warm and caring smile gracing her lips.

Valeria protested, not wanting to trouble her friend, but Mallory persisted. "It makes your eyes pop out even more," she chuckled, draping the shawl around her friend’s shoulder, using any excuse to keep Valeria from protesting further.

The soft fabric felt comforting against Valeria’s skin.

“They’ll be fine, Val.” Mallory said, sensing that there was still an unease in Valeria. She was well aware that tonight was the eve before the cruel initiation of the annual bloodrite. “They’ll be back before you know it.”

Valeria smiled at her friend, grateful for the reassurance but her smile faltered as her gaze fell upon Mallory's bare neck. Bruises littered her neck.

“Mal–” She began.

Mallory’s eyes widened in realization, suddenly feeling small under her friend's worried gaze. “It’s nothing–”

“Nothing?” Valeria replied, incredulously. This wasn’t the first time she had witnessed bruises and injuries on her dear friend. It brought her immense sadness to see her friend suffer at the hands of her abusive father. She had offered for Mallory to stay and live at her house but every time, Mallory refused, knowing the depths her father would go to get her back.

“Shit,” Mallory let out a frustrated curse as she spared a glance to her watch. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I promised I’d be home well before sundown.”

“Do you want me to walk you?” Valeria said, concerned laced in her tone.

“No.” Mallory shook her head, a hint of worry in her brown eyes. “It’ll only make things worse.”

“I’ll see you in two days?” Valeria suggested. “I can bring the jewelry box you left at my house from my birthday then.”

“Yeah,” Mallory replied with a grateful smile. “I’ll see you in two days.”

They exchanged a hug. Valeria was unable to shake off her concern for her friend, her mind already racing with new ideas on how she could help Mallory in her situation. She was lost in thought, preoccupied with finding solutions, that she didn’t notice the discreet note Mallory slipped into the gray shawl she wore.

Two days later, Valeria found herself at the cherished frozen lake. The snow was melting under the sun’s warmth. She knelt down beside the lake and applied pressure to the thinning ice. A sharp cracking sound filled the air and before she could react, the ice gave way beneath her hand. She let out a startled yelp as her hand plunged into the cold embrace of the lake. In her moment of panic, Noctis sprang into action, flying from her shoulder and desperately pecking at the back of her coat in a frantic attempt to pull her away from the cold water.

Frowning, she felt the weight of disappointment settle in her heart as she stared at the now broken patch of the once-frozen lake. The lake was not safe to skate in anymore. She cradled her trembling hand to her chest, the chill in the air mirroring the heaviness she felt within.

The minutes ticked by, and Valeria chose to wait for Mallory, contemplating how her friend would take the news about the lake. .

But Mallory never came.

The next morning Valeria set out to find Mallory. She was worried about her friend. The last time Mallory had failed to meet her at the lake was when she fell sick with the flu and Valeria couldn’t shake off the foreboding feeling that something might be terribly wrong, especially after seeing those bruises. It had been awhile since she last saw her friend hurt by the hands of her father and she wondered if Mallory had just gotten better hiding her injuries.

Her destination was the quaint little shop where Mallory's family worked. However, what she encountered there shattered any chance of morning calm and relief.

A wicked grin adorned a man's face. He stood behind the counter, where Mallory usually did, his eyes cruel and devoid of light. It was Mallory's father.

“Hello,” Valeria greeted warily, trying to peek out from behind his shoulders. She hoped to see the silhouette of her friend from behind the beaded curtains. Noctis did the same. “Is Mal here?”

“No,” came the curt reply.

Unease settled within Valeria as she pressed on, trying to remain polite. “Could you please let her know I came looking for her?”

“Don’t bother.” He sneered.

Valeria furrowed her brows together, causing Mallory’s father to laugh. It cut through the air, a cruel sound that sent shivers down her spine.

“Sweet ol’ Mal decided to partake in this year’s Bloodrite.”

Valeria felt her breath catch in her throat, her heart sinking like an anchor. A mixture of worry, confusion, and disbelief swirled within her. The revelation hit her like a sudden gust of icy wind, leaving her breathless and reeling.

She could feel it–the all too familiar overwhelming prickling sensation that ignited in her bones. Her powers. They surged through her, awakened by the storm of emotions raging within. The necklace adorning her neck began to shimmer, recognizing and resonating with her abilities. She contemplated finally putting her powers to use, yearning to harness them as they wished.

The bright tendrils of pure moonlight dared to escape from within her grasp, shimmering as the moonstone on her necklace did, with a potent energy and promise to consume and destroy everything in its path. But the consequences of losing control in Windhaven were far too great. She had to leave. Now.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides, the silver glow barely contained within them. She turned away from Mallory’s father and ran. Noctis followed, fluttering over her head and managing to keep up with her despite his undersized wing, mirroring her urgency. She ran and ran until the taunting echoes of Mallory’s father’s laughter faded into the distance, until she could no longer hear the cruel words that echoed in her mind. But new words came forward, replacing Mallory's father's. They were the words Rhysand had said to her when she had asked about females participating in the bloodrite:

“It’s a cruel way for fathers to punish their daughters, an excuse to slaughter them without getting their hands dirty themselves.”

There were no words to convey the tempest of emotions that continued to rage within her. She fell to her knees, a couple of feet away from the steps to her house. The tears wouldn’t come, leaving her feeling cold and numb, much like she had when her hand broke through the frozen lake’s surface.

A/N: I really liked the idea of Rhysand's mother catching on to the growing bond between Val and Az. Also, there will be more revealed about Mallory in the next imagine.

Tag list: @justrepostandlove @kemillyfreitas @thelov3lybookworm

#azriel x oc #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel x rhysand's sister #azriel x reader #acotar imagine #rhysand's sister #azriel imagine #acosm

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carnal-lnstinct · 1 month

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Change The Fate's Design

Pairing: Goddess!Reader x War God!Goku Content: au: CLAMP’s RG Veda-inspired fic. afab reader. established rivals. love confession. hinted unrequited love. angst. hurt/comfort. possessiveness. A/N: This is just a retelling of one of the plot twists from RG Veda so spoilers but I doubt anyone is going to read that old manga. I recommend it if you like beautiful, dramatic characters and pain of which you can never recover from! But also, it's CLAMP so it has its...problems. For context: There is a prophecy that the unborn heir of the War God will awaken as the God of Destruction destined to destroy all the realms, and the War God knows.

“...Do you think destiny can be changed?” The golden-eyed war god asked suddenly.

A brow arched in response, followed by an unimpressed stare. Odd. 'You are asking me', she thinks to herself. Fate has never bound her to anything to expect anything in return from it. Everything she has, she has earned by the will of her own heart and the strength of her own two hands. Something troubles the War God to ask her of all people such a thing. Moving confidently, her feet shift around as she turns to face him with a soft, yet arrogant grin.

“To get what I want, I would rearrange the stars themselves.” Boldly left her lips without a hitch nor a blink of an eye.

Goku does not flinch at her callous answer, either. The god of war stares back and slowly a smile forms, breaking the melancholy of his expression. However prideful and selfish her intentions come across, she speaks with a sureness that came as a comfort to him, clearing his fears to reveal a path of hope for a future untethered by the stars. A better future for his son. For that wish, he will become just as selfish as the goddess�� if not more— for what he is willing to attempt to save the future prince.

It felt like an affliction in his soul, worse than any atrocities the most wicked creatures could conjure. Weighing all of the heavens against the life of his innocent child, desiring the latter at the risk of calamity befalling everyone else. Including himself. But he does not waver, nor stall. Goku steps forward closing their distance to speak in confidence, sharing his forbidden words.

“Then…Would you lend me a hand in changing the path of the stars?” He asks, a gentle cant of his head as he watches her with a solemn gaze. It is just as bold to ask this much of anyone to join him in sin, let alone a court rival. And damn foolish to assume a prophecy can be changed when the stars have never been wrong. But he needs to try.

Does this push them all towards the path of the prophecy or set the stage for a more desirable future for the heir of his kingdom?

The incredulous look he gets in return for his plea says it all. Even without sharing the context of his wish to change fate, he must know how ridiculous that sounds. For one such as herself who did not believe in fate's direct hand there has been some truth to it, crediting the natural powers of heaven itself. But... she does not need to believe in it, nor does she require the reason. It was enough he groveled to her for his fool’s errand. Desperate.

The Goddess’ arrogant grin grows and she steps closer as well, lending her attention to his cry for help and smug as can be. There’s a wicked glint in her eyes.

“Will I get what I want if I lend you my strength?” She asks, coming in closer still.

“What is it that you want?”

Her touch is soft and it surprises him, suddenly, gently, resting along the curve of his cheek. Golden eyes widened looking down at her and her own eyes were gentle and reverent of the form before her like he had never seen before.

"...You." There’s a longing in her tone, as well as a demand. But not her ego anymore.

Her intentions are clear but Goku is stunned, to say the least. She hid this well behind her arrogance and duty, perhaps biding her time for the right circumstances of just him and her. Yet, it was only for a moment he hesitated as he took in her sincerity. He understands the opportunity it gave him. 'Anything for Gohan.'

“...If fate can be changed…” His voice trailed off, eyes faltering in concede making his head lower away but her hand shifted to cup his jaw, lifting his head to bring his eyes back on hers.

“I will rearrange the stars to get what I want.” She declares. The silence stirred between them now, unwavering eyes watching the other. And then her other hand grasps his face as she lures him down into a kiss, sealing their fate. Permitting his selfishness and his foolishness to disrupt the will of the realm. They could be selfish fools together.

#goku x reader #son goku x reader #goku imagine #dbz fics #dbz imagine #My writing #this was so much longer but then I realized the rest doesn't matter #also it made me cry #not my most creative fic but its the most self-indulgent ♥

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nomercytonight · 8 months

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Useful - Changlix smut

Changbin decides to fuck his roommate.

Words: 1875

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairing: Seo Changbin/Lee Felix (Stray Kids)

Warnings/tags: dubious consent, non-con elements, non-con filming, spanking, handjob, anal, dom!changbin, sub!felix, objectification, degradation, free use

Part 3 of 4-part-series Changbin Using Felix (Part 1 here)

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Posted this first on AO3 because of the feedback there. Thank you for all likes, reblogs and feedback! Requests are open

This is part 3, I recommend reading the others first to grasp the dynamic and see the build-up.

The dynamic between Changbin and Felix had shifted, that much was obvious.

Where they previously lived as regular college roommates did, passing each other in the common areas, maybe a bit of small talk if they felt like it, the air between them was different now.

Felix, who had never been shy to initiate conversation, was now quiet until Changbin spoke to him first, his eyes nearly never leaving the older when they were in the same room at the same time.

Changbin had also changed. He was still not very talkative, but he had found a liking in touching Felix.

Some days, he would walk past the younger, with a slight tap on his butt, enough to make him jump in surprise but not enough to hurt. Other times he would be more aggressive, grabbing Felix's ass and smirking when he heard the younger yelp.

Changbin had realized that he was a lot less stressed in his daily life, the knowledge of having a stress-reliever at his disposal at home calming him down when he got agitated.

There was, however, one thing left to do, and as he was on his way home from class, the excruciatingly long presentation he had held an hour prior still on his mind, Changbin decided that today was finally the day.

He unlocked the front door, walking straight towards Felix's room and stepping in without knocking.

Felix was laying on his bed, phone in hand. He looked up, startled at the sudden intrusion.

"I'm taking a shower, and when I come back, I want you to be ready for me, got it?"

Felix nodded quickly, putting his phone done.

Without another word, Changbin left to take his shower.

He had not expected, how difficult it would be to keep his hands off himself in the shower. Knowing what was about to happen, knowing his roommate was currently preparing himself so that Changbin could fuck him, it all made him impatient and wanting.

He tried to take his time, on one hand to give Felix a chance to actually get ready, on the other hand because he loved the thought of leaving the younger waiting for him.

As he got dressed after drying off, he stopped for a moment, then decided to stick with his T-Shirt and sweatpants, forgoing the underwear he had planned on wearing. None of his clothes would have stayed on for long regardless.

He once again let himself into Felix's room.

This time, he went unnoticed.

Felix was laying on his back, his pants and underwear shoved down to his thighs while he worked himself open with three fingers. His other hand was on his chest, roughly twisting and tugging on his nipples, leaving them puffy and even more sensitive than before.

His eyes were closed shut and his head thrown to one side, desperate pants and whimpers falling from his mouth.

It was pornographic.

Changbin pulled his phone out of his pocket, opening the camera app to capture Felix. It was as though the younger was modeling for him, perfectly posing for his pictures being taken. The only way to truly preserve this moment, Changbin decided, was a video and so he started filming.

He thought about how Felix would react when Changbin showed him the video. Would he be embarrassed? Would he tell Changbin to delete it? Grow turned on at the sight? He would be finding out soon enough, he figured.

After a few seconds, he stopped the video and put his phone onto the nightstand next to Felix's bed.

It was time to make his presence known to Felix, who was still thrashing in pleasure with his eyes closed.

Changbin placed a hand on then younger's bare thigh.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Felix stopped his movement immediately, his eyes snapping open in surprise, still breathing heavily.

"It's time you make yourself useful, got it?"

Felix nodded, letting his fingers slip out of himself.

"Let's see how good you've been."

He roughly yanked on the younger's pants, pulling them off and throwing them on the floor.

"Shirt"

Felix scrambled to pull the fabric over his head in record time, placing it next to his bed.

Now fully naked, he looked back at Changbin, waiting for the next command.

"Face down, ass up. Now."

Felix did not have to be told twice, quickly getting into position, presenting himself.

Changbin kneeled behind him, letting his hands shamelessly roam over the younger's body. His hands lingered on Felix's behind, massaging the cheeks before spreading them without warning.

"Fuck, Felix" he breathed out, letting on finger lightly trace his hole. "You look delicious"

Felix squirmed, biting his lip in hopes of calming his panting.

His effect on Felix wasn't lost on Changbin.

"You like that? Want me to have a taste?"

Felix nodded, shifting so his hips were pushed closer to the older's face.

Changbin let out a short laugh.

"Well too bad this isn't about you."

With that, he grabbed the lube which Felix had used minutes ago, spreading some on his fingers.

He slipped in one finger, then a second, then a third, happy with the amount of preparation that had already been done. He let his finger slip out and got up, now standing next to the bed.

Without warning, Changbin grabbed his hair, pulling him forward until Felix was sitting upright. He didn't give him time to adjust as he pulled on his hair so that Felix's cheek was now resting against Changbin's crotch.

Changbin pushed his hips forward, against Felix's face.

Felix turned his head, mouthing at the clothed bulge. He looked up at the elder who continued slowly grinding against his face.

Changbin scoffed.

"You're really desperate, aren't you?"

Felix didn't say a word.

Changbin took off his shirt, not missing how Felix's eyes hungrily took in his upper body. It felt good, having the younger thirst so obviously. He decided to extend a bit of mercy.

"You can touch"

The other immediately sprung into action, hands exploring his waist, stomach and all the way up to his chest before moving down to the stomach again.

He even let them slide down to Changbin's hips and butt, quickly moving back up as though he was scared of what the older might say.

Though his hands might have been focused on Changbin's upper body, Felix's eyes were fixed somewhere else. Thanks to his lack of underwear, his growing arousal was easy to spot through his sweatpants. Felix could not look away.

Noticing this, Changbin stepped out of his pants, reaching for the lube once more.

Felix held out his hand, allowing Changbin to drizzle some on his palm, which he then used to stroke Changbin's length.

"Condom?" Changbin asked, followed by a groan.

Felix shook his head. "I got tested right after you- when you- after last time."

Changbin nodded, surpressing the smile forming on his face due to the younger's confession.

"I'm tested, too. Guess we don't need one."

Felix nodded, his hand speeding up.

Changbin let him continue, watching as he grew to full hardness.

Then, he pushed Felix onto his back, climbed on the bed and aligned himself with the younger's awaiting hole.

Changbin had a tight hold on Felix's thighs as he pushed in, not able to hold back a groan at the sensation.

Felix's mouth fell open, his eyes scrunched closed, taking in the sensation of Changbin finally entering him.

As he had expected, the older of the two did not wait to see if Felix was ready, instead thrusting harshly and chasing his own pleasure.

Felix tried holding back the sounds threatening to escape his throat, unsure how much space he was allowed to take up, but ultimately failed at remaining quiet. Each thrust caused a short moan to spill from his lips, while his hands scrambled to find something to hold on to.

Changbin pulled out, instead flipping Felix over to lay on his stomach. When Felix attempted to get on all fours, he was pushed back down by a strong hand on his back, his body flush against the mattress.

He let out a mixture between a moan and a scream when Changbin's flat palm suddenly landed on his behind without any warning, the second slap follwing quickly after.

"I didn't tell you to move, so you better not fucking move" Changbin grunted, not ceasing to spank the younger.

"I'm gonna make sure you won't even know why you can't sit tomorrow. Will it be because of my hand abusing your asscheeks? Or will it be because of my cock splitting you in half?"

Tears were welling up in Felix's eyes, the pain of each slap mixing with the overwhelmingly good feeling of it causing him to grind into his bed. Changbin grabbed him by the hair, pulling him up so he could see his face.

"Crying? What, is it too much for you to handle? Or are these tears of joy that you're finally being treated like the slut you are?"

Instead of a response, Felix could only let out a desparate sob.

With a final slap, Changbin let go of Felix's hair, letting his face fall back onto the pillow.

Changbin moved on top of the younger and pushed in once more, immediately starting with a brutal pace. He moved roughly, one hand pushing Felix's head down so his sobs and moans were muffled by his pillow. He didn't care that it also made breathing a lot more difficult for the younger.

It was clear that Changbin was chasing his own pleasure, relishing in how the other just took what he gave with no complaints.

"Just a fucktoy I have."

Changbin let out a grunt.

"You should be thanking me for treating you like the object you are. Fucking whore."

He moved both hands to Felix's hips, holding him in place as he shoved in deep, filling him up as he came. Using Felix's body however he liked, he rode out his high until he had enough, then pulled out.

"Turn around"

When Felix moved too slow for his liking, Changbin grabbed one of his ass cheeks, red and sensitive from the previous treatment. It made Felix gasp and turn onto his back quicker, exposing his hard and aching cock.

"I'm done with you"

Changbin stated matter-of-factly, to which Felix nodded in understanding.

"Get yourself off"

Changbin commanded, not moving from his spot on the bed.

"Myself?" Felix asked, dazed.

"Who else would I fucking be talking about? Play with your pathetic little cock, I'm not going to do it for you."

Felix nodded and eagerly went to work, flinching at how sensitive he was.

His hands moved quickly, almost frantically, as he let out desparate gasps.

His moans grew louder, consisting of desparate sounds and calls of Changbin's name. Felix finally came with a silent scream, spilling over his own hand.

Changbin put his hand on Felix's wrist to move his hand. Felix expected him to be fed his own release due to the older's action, but was instead met with his own hand gliding across his face, covering it in his own cum.

"Now you finally look like the slut you are."

Changbin commented, reaching over to retrieve his phone again.

---

Part 4

#changlix smut #stray kids smut #changbin smut #dom!changbin #felix smut #sub!felix #kpop smut #skz smut

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awgeezitsthetoiletnator · 4 months

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your mind !!!!!!!! literally it's that its the desperate plea of them both being like this meant something to us both??? it didn't just irrevocably change my world view alone right? and now i've got to pretend to be normal about it because we are forever linked in the same circle like!?!?!?!

this is why i feel so unnormal about them both- Tracker being a crutch for Kristen when they were dating because her whole life has been her living a lie. She's moving in because she can't be with her parents but I'm sure she wonders if it's just because they are girlfriends. I wonder how Kristen feels about living in Mordred and Jawbone being one of her guardians (not even mentioning how she struggles playing like a child role- being that shield for her brothers and how we often see her square up to Sandra Lynn) now they aren't together, like does she feels out of place there? I also think that feeling of being out of place was echoed in the recent episode of oh Kristen's address hasn't been changed either- like none of the parental figures in Mordred did that for her- especially Jawbone who works at the school and would have know that was kinda important.

Similarly I think Kristen provided that role on Sophmore year (even being in a messy arc) to Tracker of being that support and the one who does listen to her. Like I wonder how Tracker felt when Adaine & then Fig joined the household- because she's no longer getting priority attention from Jawbone since he's so busy. Yes she's very independent but that's because she's had to be. Even looking after Jawbone before he got better- like they did live together she's probably seen the ins and outs of all his business. The way I see her definitely has a heavy influence from you recommending scream by beach bunny for Tracker because wow- just incredible no notes. Her just moving on to looking after Kristen- like to make herself feel useful and needed- like when she gets brought along for spring break she's like oh I thought you were going to abandon me. Like. Head in hands. My poor girl. (Tracker being an npc is so hard i need all her lore now brennan)

I think it's also why it's so like explosive with the withholding stuff about Jawbone because her and Kristen have become this codependent team because there is so much going on its like oh your my person right now and you still did this, you know all these things and yet my feelings weren't considered & were pushed aside.

Like even after this happens- Kristen then starts unravelling Tracker's religion through finding Cassandra. Which tears them apart. They are both so influential in each other's lives its so crazy.

Apologies for the ramble as this might all be so incoherent but i just have so many thoughts on them and their dynamics- but I think it's like the tragedy aspect of it all that is so aligned with this music. Like the greater the risk the higher the reward and all that- they are built up to be so life changing that the fall consistently follows them. Like we haven't spoke in months but I'm still happy that your religious uprising is going well- even in my commune with my own Goddess you still linger there too. (Not even getting into the Goddess being sisters it's just so much)

Like the Bang the Doldrums line of better off as lovers and not the other way around vs Kristen trying to be normal about calling them friends to her cleric teacher. Just rattling them in my brain for real. I also like Bros by Wolf Alice for them because it's such energy of like If i did come back would you still be there? I know it's selfish of me to ask but would you do it anyway. And definitely less emo but Renegade by Big Red Machine gives them so much. like specifically the post chorus and second verse. again sorry for the ramble but these new episodes are just making me think so intensely about them :P

please never ever apologize for sending such thoughtful asks to my inbox!! i’m sorry it took me so long to reply, but you gave me so much for think about…

- you’re so right about how layered and complicated kristen’s feelings on living at mordred must be now. they were probably a lot easier to overlook when she and tracker were together. the current status shift of “i’m living with my partner” to “i’m crashing with my friends” is wild to me. while i think sandra lynn and jawbone do their best to be good parents for the teens living in their house, there’s just so many of them that it’s probably be easier to parent the ones that usually lean on them for help (adaine) or show clear red flags (fig). (i know this is most likely because beardsley was the one who started the tremors bit during the last episode, but the way jawbone leapt up to protect adaine and fig but not kristen gave me pause. not because jawbone (or brennan for that matter) did anything wrong, but it made me wonder how many little things like that must happen every day in front of kristen and how she might feel about it). given kristen’s reluctance to their parenting and tracker’s personal, recent experience with leaving the church of sol, tracker probably seemed like the best person equipped to support kristen, even if it put her in a weird, uncomfortable corner where she is constantly caring for the person who is supposed to be her main carer as well - although it’s never as reciprocal as it should be. tracker leans heavily on her own experience to try and help kristen, which is why she works so hard to support kristen in establishing her church. she wants kristen to experience the deep, primal connection to YES!? that she experiences with galicaea, but it’s not the necessarily the same situation as kristen is the sole cleric responsible for her gods. due to how much is resting only on her shoulders, kristen’s issues always seem to eclipse tracker’s, but that doesn’t make it fair. tracker tries to help in the way she knows how and it’s still not enough. i’m so excited to learn more about why tracker wants to talk to kristen in the present day. in part, it’s probably because at some point they will be living in the same house again and they should be on good terms. but i also wonder if tracker sees the same pattern with kristen’s gods that cassandra does, and wants to offer kristen an out of her current situation by asking her to join the wolfsong revival. i don’t think there’s any universe out there where kristen would have ever chosen galicaea over cassandra when that path was first offered to her in sophomore year, but tracker could argue that lots of things have changed since that initial offer. in joining her, kristen would be one of many clerics and share the burden of responsibility for keeping a god alive. and maybe that’s a way they can actually be together again. 👀

- kristen’s aversion to being parented is so fascinating to me that it needs to be its own list item. it feels so relatable as an experience of an eldest daughter who’s been parentified for longer than she can remember. because i don’t even think it’s an aversion to being parented really - i think she’s expecting to be treated as a child in a way that’s familiar to her. when you combine kristen’s eldest daughter position with her status as the golden child due to her connection to helio, it’s not a far reach to say that the applebees treated kristen closer to another adult in the family than a child when she lived at home. i’m guessing she was privy to way more information and it was her job to shield and distract her brothers from it or filter it in a way that her parents approved. this is one of the reasons why i think she struggled so much while questioning her faith - her parents had always communicated with her in a straight and simple fashion and this suddenly shifted to unsatisfactory, emotional answers to her questions. (granted, i don’t think any answers the applebees would have given would be satisfactory based on how stuck they are in their worldview, but they jumped really quickly into just shutting kristen down instead of actually hearing her out) i think she’s seeking out that kind of straightforward parent-child relationship she used to have with her parents when she approaches sandra lynn after the tryst with garthy, like “tell me what’s going on and we’ll find the best way to share this with the rest of the kids.” i know that moment is followed by a “classic ally chaos moment” of kristen asking for whiskey, but i wonder if there’s a way to recontextualize it here. maybe she sees herself falling into an old pattern. maybe she can’t resist the temptation of actually being treated like a child instead of a pseudo-adult. maybe she’s worried that whatever answer sandra lynn could give her isn’t worth her positioning herself like this. no one wants sandra lynn and kristen to bond this season more than me i’m awake at night wishing as hard as i can believe me when i say this but i do think that she’s still trying to be a shield to the best of her ability from afar. i think the underlying question behind kristen’s decisions now when it comes to her brothers is “how do i turn the selfish action of leaving them behind into the best decision for everyone in the end without compromising my own autonomy or putting them in a situation where they get hurt?” she stays away from the applebees house so that her brothers don’t have to deal with the tension she would inevitably bring with her. she leaves them gold but without a note so her parents can’t interrogate them about their contact with her. and even in the last episode - choosing to simply confuse her parents and keep her cool instead of actively arguing with them is interestingly as calculated as it is chaotic because she probably comes off as less of a threat to bucky’s devotion to helio and more as a neutral eccentric. for now, it’s easier on everyone in that house if she is cast as someone whose head isn’t screwed on straight rather than a complete villain.

- i too would love to know more about tracker. all of your questions about how she might have felt when jawbone’s attention shifted from her to adaine and fig are right on the money. add all the codependency with kristen to the mix, it makes me wonder if tracker feels like she missed out on having deeper, possibly sisterly friendships with adaine and fig. i think trackerbees being so joined at the hip resulted in her holding fig and adaine at arm’s length as “kristen’s friends” as opposed to new family members. it’s telling that she only chose to leave mordred once she was certain that she could trust that jawbone would be safe with the people surrounding him AND that they were taking care of him as much as he was taking care of them. i don’t think she was waiting for something to go wrong per say, but the fact is that something DID go wrong and her instinct to hang around was justified. she watches sandra lynn and jawbone reconcile and that point in time happens to coincide with her decision to start the wolfsong revival and then she’s finally ready to leave with ragh at her side - the only other teen she allowed herself to get close to probably by accident bc they spent a good deal of time together when the PCs were off on bad kids only mini-missions during spring break. (also how are they going to share ragh. i’m hoping it’s all cordial in the end but how do you share a person who was a bodyguard / confidant for one of you but also was the cofounder of the lgbtq+ student union / honorary party member for the other for much longer than that. how do you do that) i’m so curious about her place in the birth order, but given that we’ve never heard about any siblings, i’m inclined to believe she’s an only child and it seems to fit. i’m an eldest daughter with a couple of only children as best friends and the dynamic of how straightforward tracker is in her actions while kristen is constantly playing 4D chess in her head to figure out the best solution for everyone rings very true for me. we know that her parents kicked her out after she was bitten, but she didn’t stray super far - not even outside the same pantheon of gods. granted, I think the lycanthropy made galicaea a natural fit for her, but i don’t think the journey to get there took as long as kristen’s journey to YES!? two sides of the same coin and all that

- ANYWAYS. the music of it all. i completely agree with your assessment of the tragedy and risk that emo music usually lends itself to, but i also like your other recs here! i was racking my brain trying to think of where i’d heard bros before - it was featured in the life is strange prequel (that also happens to center around another tragic sapphic couple). i absolutely love renegade for them and it made me think of “the 1” - another swift / dessner collab that feels very of the moment for them. i think about them a lot when i’m listening to adult mom. most songs i feel apply directly to one or the other, but i feel like “checking up” from their most recent album feels very attuned to their relationship right before they broke up when tracker was first on the road.

for anyone who has made it this far down, thank you for coming for my ted talk! i guess i have a lot more thoughts about these two than i knew. thank you again @sabrirene for sending this in!

#kristen applebees #tracker o'shaughnessey #trackerbees #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fantasy high: junior year #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #sabrirene

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dumfanting · 7 months

Text

Same Heart, ch 31: Premonition

AO3 Link

Rating: E, explicit padawans go home

Warnings: (nearly) drowning, CPR, blood, scars, body worship, nipple play, fingering, oral (F receiving), squirting

Notes: fem reader, force sensitive reader, second person POV, present tense

5241 words

This is the second half of what was supposed to be a single chapter, so if it starts awkwardly, that’s why.

Recommended listening: Rain- Sleep Token

F! Reader/ Echo

F! Reader/ Crosshair

Fives has something to tell you, and so does Crosshair.

You blink a few times and find yourself not in the bacta tank, but a similar kind of transparisteel pod, crammed in with… is that Crosshair? Your vision is blurred, so you can’t see his face, but his armor looks different. You can vaguely hear the voices of the others, but it’s muffled. You glance around and see that you’re in some kind of half-destroyed room underwater, and catch a glimpse of a short figure with blonde hair.

Crosshair says your name, and when you look back at him, now able to see clearly, you find it isn’t just his armor that’s different. He looks older, exhausted, and you can see obvious regret in his eyes. You’re startled when you sense a desperate plea for help and forgiveness rush over you as he meets your gaze. You also notice that the right side of his shaved head has been severely burned, just above his ear. Confused, you reach up to gingerly touch it, but everything goes black before you get the chance.

You hear the distinct sound of his rifle firing, then you see and hear short flashes of something else. Snow, a pained scream, someone small running away. You try to move, but you’re frozen in place, unable to do anything but fall to your knees and groan in fear as your eyes screw shut against a sudden bolt of pain in your head.

Your eyes fly open and you’re back in the bacta tank, though this is different too. The bacta isn’t stinging your open eyes, and everything is still pitch black except for the space taken up by the tank and a small area of the floor around it. You look to your left and see Crosshair sitting as close to the tank as possible in a chair, dozing with his temple against the glass, looking like he usually does. After a few seconds, you hear a faint but familiar voice call your name. Confused, you whirl through the liquid and around to your right side, then gasp. You barely register that you aren’t wearing the air mask, but you don’t seem to need it. Your gasp made no bubbles.

“Fives?” you say, incredulous and even more confused as he steps out of the darkness and into view.

“Cyare, you must be careful,” he says, and the thinly veiled fear in his tone sends a chill down your spine.

“Careful?” you repeat, your confusion deepening, unsure if he can even hear you. It seems like he can, though, and he walks to the other side of the tank. He stands behind Crosshair and rests a hand on his shoulder. You whirl around again to keep track of him.

“Crosshair?” you say, alarmed. “What are you talking about?”

Crosshair jolts awake when you say his name, but doesn’t react at all to being touched.

Another dream, you think. You should have realized it sooner.

“Please, you aren’t safe with him,” Fives says. The strain and desperation in his voice is exactly the same as it was the last time you ever saw him, back in the bathroom of 79s, and it scares you. Crosshair, meanwhile, has leapt to his feet, looking panicked.

“I- I don’t understand,” you say, ignoring this.

“Don’t go to Kaller,” Fives says. He takes a step backward as he speaks and appears to briefly distort like a hologram in static.

You know you’ll be waking up soon and a mixture of fear and panic overtake you. You beat against the glass with your open hand and shout, “Fives, wait! How do you keep talking to me?”

The room around you also starts to warp, and Fives says something, though you can’t hear what over the sudden sound of rushing water. Something about the Force? You try to call out to him again, but you feel like you’re suffocating, and everything goes black again.

Crosshair wakes with a startled gasp, not realizing that he’d fallen asleep. He swears he had heard you saying his name, but reminds himself that’s not possible right now. He absently scratches at the right side of his head, just above his ear, and yawns as he turns to check on you. He then stands up so suddenly that he knocks the chair over and he’s fully aware again.

You’re twisting around violently in the tank and the air valve is out of your mouth. Your arm flails, your hand banging against the glass, and it looks like you’re trying to yell. Your eyes are open, but unfocused, which is deeply unsettling.

Panic completely consumes Crosshair as he watches you; for a few seconds all he can think to do is try to break the tank open to get you out. He also beats against the tank a few times, punching hard enough to bloody his knuckles, and vaguely notes a crack in the glass that wasn’t there earlier before coming to his senses.

“Somebody get the fuck over here, she’s going to drown!” he shouts, loud enough to reverberate around the room. Seconds later, a Torgruta man he doesn’t recognize bursts through the privacy curtains, yanks an emergency drainage lever Crosshair hadn’t noticed, and catches your limp body when the tank suddenly swings open, dumping a sizeable amount of the bacta liquid all over the floor, soaking their shoes. Crosshair, frozen as the panic returns, watches helplessly, unable to do anything as the Torgruta man lays you flat on your back and begins chest compressions.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally take a gasping breath before coughing up bacta. Crosshair snaps out of it and rushes to your side, pushing the man out of his way, dropping onto his knees, and pulling you as tightly to his chest as he can.

You wake with a gasp, then immediately start coughing up what feels like thick water. Your throat and lungs are burning, your entire chest aches, and you have no idea what’s happening, aside from someone holding you. You continue coughing, worsening the pain in your chest, and turn your head to spit out whatever is coming up. Your eyes fly open when you hear your name, and the first thing you see is Crosshair's face; He looks both terrified and relieved while a gust of panic blows over you from him. Confused by this, you keep coughing hard enough to gag, more fluid coming up through your throat. Despite the burn, you recognize the bitter taste of bacta, and suddenly realize that something had obviously gone horribly wrong.

“C… Crosshair?” you say, your voice weak, before you cough again, expelling more bacta from your lungs. Whatever he says in response is almost completely incoherent, the only thing you’re able to pick up with certainty is ‘drown’.

The next thing you know, Bortuse is there, wrestling Crosshair away from you and holding him back with surprising strength. You also hear Kix’s voice, though you can’t tell what he’s saying over the sound of your own hellish coughing. You turn onto your side and gag again, bringing up the last of the bacta from your chest. You shakily shift yourself into a slouched sitting position, facing everyone.

Kix immediately kneels to check your vitals, and as your breathing normalizes with only the occasional weak cough, you see Crosshair relax enough for Bortuse to let him go. Kix, apparently satisfied, turns toward Crosshair and asks him what the hell happened. It takes a minute for him to recompose himself, now that you’re alright, before he speaks.

“She… she was thrashing around, i-it had to be another nightmare, she yanked the airway out,” he says.

Fives, you think, and realize that it must have happened during your dream. You’re so startled by this that you miss the way Kix curses under his breath and says that he thought the dose wasn’t right.

“You what?”

Crosshair, however, had heard him just fine. He pushes away from Bortuse and advances upon Kix, absolutely furious, but Bortuse manages to hold him back again, grabbing him by the upper arms.

“You son of a bitch, this is your fault!” Crosshair shouts. Kix is ignoring him entirely, instead focusing on you. You try to shout back for him to stop, but your voice is too weak.

You slowly move to stand, and Kix assists, taking your hands and carefully guiding you to your feet. Once you are standing, he holds you upright by the shoulders and asks if you’re okay. You cough, again, but nod at him.

“Get your fucking hands off her,” Crosshair shouts.

Kix glances between the two of you, obviously concerned. You step away from him and unsteadily, but independently, walk over to Bortuse, then motion to let him go. Bortuse hesitates, the same concerned look on his face, but complies, stepping away from Crosshair.

Crosshair takes a step toward Kix, but you move in front of him and stop him.

“Crosshair, stop,” you say as loudly as you’re able, wheezing.

“No!” he growls, and it looks like he’s going to move you out of his way. You cough, again, and hold a hand against his chest, exactly like you had on Anaxes. You can feel his heart pounding against your palm. This simple touch seems to calm him down significantly.

“Just stop and breathe,” you say, your tone soothing, if a little hoarse.

“He- I thought-,” Crosshair says, stumbling over his words as he loses steam. You make a soft shushing sound at him.

“Hey, it’s alright Cross, I’m okay,” you say, moving your hand from his chest to the side of his face. His anger evaporates after your hand meets his cheek, and when he speaks, his voice is shaky, which startles you.

“Don’t scare me like that,” he says, so softly only you can hear him. He sweeps you into his arms, hiding his face in your neck.

You feel a large hand cautiously rest upon your upper back, and when you look to see who it belongs to, you find Bortuse looking shaken.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he says. You cough again and grimace at the pain in your chest. “Sorry about that,” Bortuse says, pulling his hand away and looking slightly guilty.

“Chest compressions?” you ask weakly, and he nods at you. “You probably saved me, doing that. I’ll deal with some bruised ribs,” you say. You glance around, looking for Kix, but he seems to have slipped out of the room.

“I imagine you want to get that bacta off, right?” Bortuse says, relaxing a little. You raise a hand and touch your hair, finding it clumped together and sticky, then nod at him.

“You remember where the showers are?” he asks, moving to lead the way. You try to follow him, but Crosshair is still holding you as tightly as he can, and you can’t really move.

“Hey hotshot, you’re crushing my ribs,” you wheeze. Crosshair curses and quickly releases you. He keeps one hand against your back, helping you stay upright, and grips your hand tightly with the other.

Able to move freely again, you follow Bortuse on shaky legs to the pair of enclosed shower units at the other end of the room. Part way there, you slip on a small puddle of the bacta, but Crosshair catches you before you fall.

“Should I get you a chair?” Bortuse asks, but you cough, yet again, then shake your head at him while wincing from the ache in your chest. By this time, the three of you have reached the showers. You softly shrug Crosshairs hands off of you and step inside one of the units. Before you close the door, you see from the corner of your eye that he’s trying to follow you inside. Bortuse is having none of this, however, and stands between you two, arms crossed.

“I’ll be okay for five minutes Crosshair,” you say, tired, before shutting the door to the shower unit. The clear walls turn opaque, so you strip down completely, then stand under the hot spray of water. You move very little and allow it to flow over your aching body. The steam also soothes your throat as you breathe it in.

You reach for soap, then see that there isn’t any here. You’ll need a proper shower once you get back to the hotel, but this will at least get most of the gunk off. You run your fingers through your hair and manage to dislodge the clumps of drying bacta from it.

While doing this, your thoughts inevitably return to Fives and the dreams. Every other time you’ve ‘seen’ him, he wasn’t scared for you, and that in turn scares you. You aren’t safe around Crosshair? What did he mean by that? You’ve felt nothing but safe in his presence, even when you thought he hated you. And why did he look so different at the start of the dream?

You realize something and gasp, catching the attention of the men outside. Bortuse asks if you’re okay, and you can hear Crosshair trying to open the door.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m fine, I’ll be out in a minute. Can someone go get my clothes?” you say quickly, your hands shaking. You return to your train of thought.

You’ve had visions of concurrent events multiple times before, and you realized that what you saw, Crosshair, the room, the short blonde figure, it all could have been a premonition. In fact, as you think on it for a little longer, you’re sure that’s what it was. Fives had said something about Kaller, was that part of it? “Something else to ask Anakin or Master Nu about I guess,” you think, and try to shake off the heavy feeling of unease that’s settling over your shoulders.

After another minute, you shut the shower off and stick your hand out through the door. Someone hands you a towel and your bag, so you quickly dry yourself before putting on your dry underwear and clothes.

Once you’re redressed, Bortuse leads you down the hall to a separate exam room where Kix is waiting before leaving the area. Crosshair, following you more closely than usual, steps on your heel as you both try to move through the doorway at once. You glance up at him and you can still faintly sense his fear.

Once you manage to get into the room, you take a seat on the small cot against the wall, and Crosshair sits as close as possible to you on your now formerly injured left side. Kix approaches, and Crosshair stiffens, shifting in front of you. He seems to be shielding you away from him. Kix looks at you for help and you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Crosshair, if he doesn’t sedate you, I will. Move and let the man do his damn job so we can get out of here, please,” you say, tired, while watching him.

He seems like he’s going to argue, but he instead gets up and sits on your other side. He’s left enough room for you to move freely, but once you’ve taken off your tunic, he’s tightly holding your right hand in his left. You look at Kix, who shrugs a single shoulder as he pulls on a pair of gloves. He gently presses his fingers against your side, digging into the skin slightly, and unlike yesterday, this doesn’t hurt at all.

“It looks like the internal damage has healed, but it’s left you with a hell of a scar. We could put you back in-,” Kix says, before you and Crosshair simultaneously say ‘NO’, startling him.

“Okay, we won’t,” Kix says, holding up his hands as he steps away from you.

“It’s just cosmetic at this point anyway, right?” you ask. Kix nods at you.

“Yes; anything else we do to treat it would be superficial and probably not worth kicking up your anxiety, if the scar won’t bother you,” he says. You hold your free hand to your side and press your palm against the skin there, noting the change in its texture, then shake your head.

“I’m not too worried about it,” you say.

“It should be fine from here out then,” Kix says. He then sheds his gloves before sanitizing his hands and pulling on a new pair. As you put your top back on, he grabs a bandaging kit from a nearby cabinet and turns his attention to Crosshair's battered knuckles.

“You’re lucky you didn’t break anything,” Kix says, reaching for his hand. Crosshair yanks it away, making you huff in irritation.

“Oh for the love of… I’m sorry about him; just let me do it,” you say, even more tired and annoyed on top of that. Kix concedes and sets the kit beside you before backing away a few steps.

Remembering your basic procedures, you slip out of Crosshair's grip and wash your hands before pulling on your own pair of gloves. You kneel in front of him and carefully pat at the dried blood with a pre-moistened wipe, cleaning it away. Once that’s done, you have a better look at what you’ll need to do.

“Just a few lacerations and some moderate bruising,” you say, thinking out loud more than speaking to anybody. “No stitches, thankfully, but it definitely needs to be bandaged up,” you continue. You soak a cotton wad in disinfectant and softly dab at Crosshairs wounds. He makes no sound of pain, but you can tell that he feels the sting by the way his hand tries to jerk away from you. With that done, you apply antibiotic cream to a few squares of gauze. He obediently holds them in place with his uninjured hand while you start wrapping up the other.

“You really wanted to get me out, huh?” you say softly, talking to Crosshair but keeping your eyes on your work.

“I cracked the fucking glass,” he says, surprising you and Kix, who shoots you a mildly alarmed glance.

“Not enough to actually break anything, calm down,” Crosshair says, rolling his eyes.

“God damn, don’t let me piss him off again,” Kix says. Crosshair shoots him a dirty look, but you get his attention by lightly slapping the uninjured area of the back of his hand.

“As long as he doesn't let me get shot again,” you say in a lighter tone, then meet Crosshair’s eyes. “I am not doing any of this a second time,” you say.

You’re expecting a snappy remark, so the severe expression on his face as he nods catches you off guard. You frown softly at him, then get to your feet. You’ve finished wrapping him up, so you toss out the packaging and wrappers of the things you used before taking off your gloves and washing your hands again.

Once you’re done, Kix walks the pair of you out of the medical wing and into the main hall, then suggests that you both get some rest. He tells Crosshair not to overwork his hand, and he only nods at him.

After a few minutes, you’ve made your way back outside and gotten into another taxi. This one isn’t enclosed, so as much as you want to talk to Crosshair, there’s no point until you get back to the hotel.

You’re barely through the door to your room before Crosshair is on you, holding you tightly and trembling. Startled by this, you have no idea how to react, so you kind of awkwardly pat his back until he loosens his grip on you. He takes a deep, shaking breath, and when he meets your eyes you can still see and faintly sense his fear. You gently hold either side of his head before softly kissing him.

“Crosshair, I’m okay. Nothing serious happened to me and I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” you say, your tone soothing again. He presses his forehead against yours and when he says your real name, you can barely hear him.

“Don’t you dare do that to me again,” he says. “I thought I’d fucking lost you.”

“Well, I’m ‘one tough bitch’, according to Hunter,” you say. “So you’re stuck with me,” you continue, taking a step back and cupping his cheek.

Crosshair turns his head and softly kisses your palm, then holds you by the hips. Kissing you, he gently steers you backwards toward the bed. Your legs hit the edge of the mattress, so you sit while he pulls away and kneels on the floor in front of you, now holding both of your hands in his and intertwining your fingers. He looks deeply into your eyes, and a wave of emotions crashes over you. A jumble of fear, relief, and gratitude make your mind buzz, but more than anything, you intensely feel something new from him, and it makes your heart race.

“Wrecker was completely right,” Crosshair says. He frees your hands, holds your hips again, and straightens up on his knees enough to kiss you so gently you almost don’t feel it. He presses his forehead into yours and says your real name again.

“I love you,” he says, and your heart soars. “I’m just sorry it took you nearly drowning for me to fucking tell you,” he says, then kisses you again, but this time he’s desperate, crushing his lips to yours and moving a hand from your hip up to the back of your head.

You melt into him, his distinctly smoky essence flooding your senses as the kiss deepens and you both open up. At the same time, he’s moving upwards off of his knees and guiding you by the shoulders toward the head of the bed and onto your back, his lips never leaving yours for more than a second. Rather than having him hover over you on all fours, you both lie on your sides. You open your legs and his knee finds its home between your thighs. He carefully grinds against you, and your hands move to his shoulders, pulling him over you as you roll onto your back.

Crosshair moves his hands to your waist, tugging at the hem of your tunic while he trails kisses from your lips along your jawline and down to your neck. You gasp quietly as he moves, then sit up enough to pull your top off and drop it to the floor, your chest now clad in just your thin bra. It has no padding, so when he cups one of your breasts and massages it, you can feel the warmth of his entire palm. His hands are rough and calloused, but his touch is so soft and sensual that you barely notice. He drags a hand upward from your waist to the band of your bra before making quick work of the hooks, undoing them singlehanded. You slip your arms out of the straps and he tosses the garment over his shoulder, leaving your upper half bare.

His unending kisses move across your collarbone and downward along your sternum. Knowing that the area hurts, his touches are feather light and cautious. He shifts the focus of one hand from massaging your breast to lightly teasing his fingertips around your nipple while the other hand rests on your hip. His lips leave your skin briefly, and you watch as he softly presses an ear to your chest, listening to your quickening heartbeat. You need more, so you run your fingers through his coarse silver hair and not so subtly push the top of his head downward. Picking up on this, Crosshair levels his mouth to your other breast, his hot breaths against the sensitive skin making you shiver.

He glances up at you and when you nod, he traces around the nipple with just the tip of his tongue, and once he’s satisfied by the way you moan in response, he wraps his lips around it. He softly circles it with his tongue, alternating between long, broad strokes and quick, short taps. After about a minute of this, he very carefully holds it in his teeth before starting to suck at it. You shiver again and you’re so aroused that your hips involuntarily jerk upward, making you inadvertently grind your clit against his knee. Crosshair hums against you, making your hips twitch harder while you push his head downward again.

Obediently, he moves from your breasts to your hips, his palms laid flat against the upper crests of your pelvis. His soft kisses continue as he slips down past your waist. He pauses at your new scar before briefly resting his forehead on it, though this only lasts a few seconds until he starts moving again. His face is about even with his hands and you can feel his warm breath through your thin leggings and thinner panties. The sensation makes you shiver and gasp his name.

Crosshair shifts his hands again, hooking his fingers into your waistband and stopping to look back up at you, silently asking permission. You grant it with a soft ‘please’. Only then does he move again, sliding your remaining clothes down your legs before you wiggle free and these are also tossed aside. Now that you’re completely nude, he gently nudges your legs apart, kissing along your inner thigh as he does. You realize that he’s practically worshiping you and you barely hold back another shiver.

You don’t have a lot of time to think about this before you feel his deft fingers tracing around your dripping cunt, gathering your wetness before slowly slipping deeply into you. This, coupled with his hot breath breezing over your aching clit, makes you whimper. He glances up at you and meets your eyes again, and you can tell, even without being able to sense it, that he’s fighting to hold himself back.

“Please, Cross,” you whisper, and the words have barely left your mouth before his lips are on you, wrapping around your clit as he sucks at it and starts to thrust his fingers in and out of you. You curse loudly and moan in response, and this seems to spur him on; his fingers start moving faster while he works your clit over with his skilled tongue at the same time.

You feel a familiar tightness in your gut as this continues and you whine Crosshair's name again, unconsciously tugging at his hair. His fingers stop thrusting and he instead rubs firm circles into a specific area deep inside of you, dragging you even closer.

“F-fuck, Cross, don’t stop,” you gasp.

His fingers keep moving while he takes your clit between his lips again and hums, long and low against it. This combination, on top of the sincere love that nearly blows you backward when you lock eyes with him, rockets you over the edge.

You come with a high, gasping moan and your legs quiver from the intensity of your orgasm. He keeps going, fingering you through it until you spasm and soak his face. You cry out and try to pull him back up. Crosshair slips his fingers out of you before kissing his way back up your body. He pauses to suck at your nipple again, which unexpectedly sends you into another orgasm, this one more intense than the first. This time you come with a shout of his name and a mixture of curses and praise spilling from your lips.

Once his face is even with yours, you slip your arms under his and hook your hands onto his shoulders. You pull him into a deep, soulful kiss, and pay no mind to your own taste on his tongue. You unconsciously open your legs and Crosshair instinctively slots himself between them, neither of you aware of this. The kiss grows somehow even more passionate. You slide your hands down toward his groin, wanting to unclip his codpiece, but before you can, he stops you. He takes your hands into his, interlacing your fingers, and raises them just above your shoulders, pressing them into the mattress.

“Later, kitten. Let me take care of you,” he whispers, and you shiver before crashing your lips against his again.

After an unknown amount of time and orgasms, you finally tap out, unfortunately having exhausted all of your energy much faster than you wanted. Crosshair softly kisses your lips and rolls the two of you back onto your sides and facing each other before touching your foreheads together. You both close your eyes and breathe one another in, a sense of protection and even devotion filling the room. Eventually, you pull back and sit up with a soft yawn while stretching your arms.

Crosshair also sits up, then stands and ducks into the refresher for a moment. You watch him go, feeling that familiar swooping sensation in your stomach and grinning without realizing it. When he returns, you can hear the shower running. He takes your hands and pulls you to your feet, taking a moment to kiss you one more time before leading you into the refresher. You step inside the shower and the water is already warm, so you thank him, raising your voice over the noise of the water. He half sits, half leans against the counter, keeping an eye on you as you start to shampoo the last of the bacta out of your hair.

Ambient sounds aside, it’s quiet for several minutes, and after glancing at him, you can tell he’s deep in thought about something. Having moved on to your body wash, you’re about to ask what’s on his mind when he says your name.

“Yeah?” you say, acknowledging him.

“I’m…,” he says, before pausing to take a breath and shake his head at himself. “I’m sorry about this morning,” he says, and he sounds sincere.

You rinse yourself, glad to be clean again, and shut off the shower before wrapping up in a large white towel. You walk over to him and stand between his relaxed legs. He rests his hands on your hips and leans in for a kiss, but you stop him with a soft bop on the nose.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” you say, then peck his cheek. Crosshair nods and agrees with you. You yawn widely, exhausted from the harrowing day.

“I’m going to sleep for a little bit,” you say, moving away from him and out into the main room. You stop and look back over your shoulder at him.

“Well, you coming?” you ask, dropping the towel. You don’t miss the desire in his eyes as he looks you up and down, but don’t acknowledge it, aside from a soft shake of your head, before pulling on a clean pair of leggings.

As you crawl into bed, Crosshair follows you, shucking off his armor as he goes. Once he’s down to just his lower blacks, he slides in next to you, then wraps his arms around your shoulders and rests his chin on the top of your head. You both make a soft, content sound. You rest your head against his chest and the steady sound of his heartbeat quickly lulls you to sleep.

Crosshair lies awake for a long while, watching over you and thinking about how close he’d come to losing you. He holds you closer with trembling hands before he too eventually falls asleep.

Tag list: @kaminocasey @madameminor @jennamelinda12 @arctrooper69 @the-cantina @jedi-hawkins @wolveria (should I keep tagging you?) @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @whore4rex @echo-is-worth-more-than-2000 @vanyaluxz1007 @jane8675

#my fics #series #cross #echo

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sarcasmandships · 1 year

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his! do you have any peterick fic recommendations? i've already read all your works on ao3 and i'm waiting desperately for updates so until then i need something to read because i feel like i've already read soooo many fics and i'm running out of material plz help :)

hiiii, im glad you like my fics and I'm sorry im terrible at updating i used to be so consistent but uni is just killing me with assignments rn! but i promise the restaurant au will get an update soon and im planning to edit death by a thousand cuts before i add to it again cos im just not really happy with the quality of it, but that will also be coming soon i promise!

anyways onto what you're really asking about; recommendations. im not sure if you're looking for smut or stories with plot so here's just a mix of things i've really liked ( i suck at bookmarking things so I've just searched through my history and there's deffos stuff i've missed im sorry)

Literally just read kick me in the face & ask me how my head feels by fkingdeathwish today - devoured this in a few hours and this fic made me like stories in first person. its so good and also has the best andy/joe/pete friendship dynamics i was smiling the whole time. but also features a lot of petekey tho which might not be ur thing

(smut) going down, down by @pyrchance - i read this the other day and its 10/10

Anything by snitchesandtalkers but some of my favourites are i've been checking my list, crooked love, making out inside crashed cars (smut), silver screen dream, the antidote to everything (except for me), we're friends when you're on your knees (not finished but still so so worth reading), amateur pornographers (smut obvs), a little less 16 candles (a little more bite me)

brutal love by @notastumph- this one is so good but like i also had to take a 5 min break between chapters cos the angst and heartbreak was getting to me so much (in the best way)

and i'll burn by jiksa - just read the tags first

the house on rosewood lane by scarredsodeep - this one is so fucking good, i don't even like horror and i was obsessed with this and couldn't stop reading

hey doctor, i'm certifiable by derridoid (smut) - so good and the ending made me laugh sm

husband on the payroll by das_verlorence-kind - what can i say, i love the fake relationship trope

also ive changed my plea to guilty by das_verlorence_kind - again just check the tags incase it’s not ur thing

accidents will happen by rusty76

again pretty much everything by @annoyingpetekey but some favourites are (i just wanna) get some, so pretty (when you're on your knees), and come on (and fuck me like you doubt me) - all smut

That Schrodinger guy made some really good points, you know? by @earlgreytea68

but i'm reflecting light by looks_a_scream - this one is deffos a favourite

the purgatory of my hips by auralcosm

edgar allan potato by emeralcitydowntowngirl - another absolute favourite, i have such a soft spot for soulmate AUs but I've never read one as good as this, again features a lot of petekey but it is all in the past

to take what i'm given with grace by likeasugarcube - their whole 'marriage of convience' series is amazing but this is the main fic and it is sooo good

anything by littlesnowpea but favourites include love in the middle of a firefight, but there's no preparing for this, and nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy (pls read tags first tho)

december is for cynics by looks_a_scream - another favourite

secrets i don’t want to keep by perceived_nobility (although i think they’ve changed their name to invisible_man now) anyways this one is only accessible if you have an ao3 account but it is so so good an hurts in all the best ways, would advise paying attention to some of the tags tho

Also pretty much anything written by appleremix or vampyerika

Ok so I have like another 30+ pages in my history but this is already so long, so i hope you enjoy some of these assuming you haven't read them already!

#anon #fic recommendations #peterick

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fern717 · 3 days

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Amidst the harrowing devastation in Gaza, my family and I find ourselves in a desperate plea for your support. Our home has been demolished, and we have suffered the unbearable loss of family members due to the ongoing violence. Adding to this tragedy, there have been cases of rape that have left us emotionally shattered and in constant fear. We urgently need to evacuate to Egypt for our safety and well-being. However, the costs involved in such a relocation are beyond our means. Your donation can make a profound difference, providing us with the means to escape this turmoil, seek safety, and rebuild our shattered lives. Your generosity can be the beacon of hope that guides us to a brighter and safer future. Thank you for considering our situation and for any assistance you can provide.

i'm so sorry you're in this situation. unfortunately, i cannot donate at the moment, as i currently have very little money in my bank account. i sincerely hope that you and your family and friends can escape to safety

also, i recommend putting a donation link in your bio for people to provide financial assistance. that way, even if you're not on tumblr to tell people what site to go on to donate, they can still find it and help you!

#littlekittymummy #palestine #free palestine

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wildernezz · 2 months

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MICHAEL MELL FANFIC SEARCH WHERE IS IT PLEAS EHELP

OKAY SO THERE WAS THIS ONE FANFIC ON AO3 THAT I READ A FEW YEARS AGO THAT WAS HONESTLY REALLY GOOD??? IF I RECALL CORRECTLY. IT WAS AROUND 100 CHAPTERS AND IT CENTERED AROUND MICHAEL MELL AND WHAT HE WAS DOING IN THE BMC MUSICAL WHILE JEREMY WAS OFF DOING HIS OWN SQUIP STUFF.

IAM DESPERATE TO READ THIS FIC AGAIN BECAUSE IT WAS REALLY GOOD.

THE ONLY OTHER DETAIL I REMEMBER ABOUT THE FIC WAS I THINK BROOKE BECAME SLIGHT FRIENDS WITH MICHAEL?? OR THEY SHARED ASTROLOGY CLASS TOGETHER AND HAD TO BE PARTNERS AND BROOKE WOULD ASK MICHAEL QUESTIONS ABOUT JEREMY. I ALSO REMEMBER MICHAEL WOULD HIDE IN ONE OF THE CLASSROOMS AT LUNCH??

I CANT REMEMBER MUCH BUT IM DESPERATE FOR IT MAN. PLEASE GUYS IM BEGGING.

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EDIT: I AM 99% SURE I FOUND IT. IT WAS REALLY GOOD AND I HIGHLY RECOMMEND READING IT AAAAAA

EPIC FANFIC HATH BEEN FOUND!!!

#ao3 #michael mell #be more chill #fanfic #boyf riends #bmc #bmc michael #PLEAAASE #I NEED IT SM PLEASE

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h-c-u · 1 year

Text

Consequences and conversations

Summary: Maverick is a brat who bratted too close to the sun and now has to deal with the aftermath, and this includes a dash of pegging in the beginning and a serious adult conversation in the end.

Pairing: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x fem!reader

W/C: 2.2k

Rating: +18, pegging, usage of gags, dom/sub, bondage, smut, aftercare, and a splash of dirty talk

TWs: Mentions of regular bodily fluids that are present during adult encounters

A/N: I've intended for it to be set a bit closer to TGM, but honestly, it can also be read as a younger Mav :)

Masterlist | List of tags

- Awwww… My sweet boy thought that he could earn me with money…? Like I'm some sort of a cheap whore….? - your voice was soft, and your lips curved in a gentle smile, in complete contrast to the words that were coming out of them. - Buy me like I'm a prostitute waving at the cars from under street lights…? Tsk, tsk, tsk… - you continued to patronize the men who looked so delicious with a red rubber ball in between his teeth, drool slowly starting to pool in the corners of his mouth. He looked obscene, spread out on a bed… So desperate for your touch that he was almost vibrating. - So old, yet so stupid and naive… I guess some boys never learn… - you grinned, your finger slowly tracking a trail that was left by a bead of sweat. It started right in the middle of his chest, continued down, and you tracked it till the end, right below his navel, where it disappeared in his happy trail.

It was fun to watch him squirm and arch his back, pushing himself into your touch, however delicate it was. He was also violently shaking his head, trying to deny the words that hung in the air…

- No….? No, you weren't trying to buy me…? - Pete continued to shake his head and you smiled… - Or no, you're not stupid, and naive….? - this time he nodded joyously, trying to do his best to be a good boy and that made you smile even more. In every other area of your life, he was the one more in control, but here, in the quiet of your own bedroom… It was a totally different conversation. Here, this usually confident, cocky, and put-together man, was your sweet boy who didn't know what was best for him - Or no, not all boys never learn…? You think you can learn…? - you asked, and Mav looked at you with a silent plea in his beautiful green eyes. - Awww… You are so adorable, I could just eat you up. - you smiled and licked his abdomen, feeling his muscles turn into stone under your tongue. After that, you gently blew on the wet trail you just left and observed how the goosebumps started forming on his skin.

- Do you think we've waited enough…? - you looked him in the eyes, mocking his enthusiastic nods just a bit, by repeating them with a patronizing expression. - Yeah…? Now, will my sweet boy learn that patience is indeed a virtue…? And that waiting is more than recommended…? - he continued nodding as if his life depended on it, and you finally slowly moved you hips back, allowing the textured dildo to drag along that sweet spot inside him, which made him moan loudly through the gag. - Goooood… - you observed the expressions on his face changing from desperation to pure bliss, to desperation again. You were moving slow enough to tease him beyond what he thought he could handle, and yet you proved him wrong, slowly entering him again and dragging all the bumps along his walls, but this time he did his best not to make a sound, even though a small whimper escaped from behind the gag. - Gooooood… You're learning… - you dragged the vowel while you were exiting him again… - Are you going to be a good boy…? - you asked and Pete almost choked on his own saliva, nodding his head with such passion, that he almost hit it on the headboard. - Don't disappoint me, love… - you reached back with your left hand and undid the leather cuff that was holding one of his ankles in place, and he immediately hooked it behind you, pulling you closer.

He was so adorably clingy and you knew that not being able to touch you, to worship every inch of your body was torture for him. But you didn't undo any of the other cuffs… Instead, you reached behind his head and undid a clasp that was holding the gag in place. - Remember what you've learned today… - you whispered, running your fingers through his hair, unsticking them from his drenched-in-sweat forehead.

- Yes, ma'am… - even when he whispered, you could hear how raspy his voice got as the effect of what you did to him and you would lie if you said that you didn't love it. You loved to mark him in any way you could, and the thought of him struggling just a little bit to talk tomorrow. Not much, but enough for him to not forget about what you did to him... Perfection...

You gently nudged his nose with your own, while bending one of your legs and putting you weight more on your feet and knee now; to keep a better balance, while you slowly moved once more, feeling how desperately Mav tried to pull you in harder and deeper into himself.

- Tsk, tsk, tsk… - you put your hand on his thigh and squeezed it hard enough for your nails to leave a mark, but not hard enough to pierce the skin.

- Please… - he whimpered so sweetly on the exhale, and if you were just a few inches further away, you wouldn't be sure if you actually heard the words, but you did…

- Please what…? - you asked, stopping for a moment, giving him time to collect his thoughts.

- Please, harder… - all the confidence that filled him during the day was now completely gone and he struggled to even look up.

- Harder….? - you repeated his words and smiled. - I guess you've made up for the previous transgressions… - you added and not letting go of his thigh, you grabbed the headboard with your right hand for more leverage and rammed into him with all your force, squeezing a loud moan from his lungs… And then another, and another… With each thrust, you pulled yourself harder toward the headboard; he didn't even have to pull you into him with his leg because it was simply impossible for you to get any deeper.

You lowered your head and placed a hungry kiss on his lips, almost like you tried to suck all air out of his lungs. You drank every moan, every gasp, every whimper directly from his mouth, moving quicker and quicker. You also changed the angle just a little bit, so your soft abdomen rubbed against his hard-on, giving him even more stimulation.

It was hard not to be impressed with how long he actually lasted; you knew he will try to prove to you, that indeed, he learned today's lesson; that patience is important. But this… This was a surprise because he was actively denying himself an orgasm, without you explicitly telling him to do so. You could tell he didn't have much of that self-control left in him though.

You bit his lip, dug your nails into his hip even harder, pulling him even stronger onto your strap, and that was enough to push him over the edge.

You felt the warm wetness spilling over your abdomen, but that was the least of your focus… You slowed down but didn't stop completely, now gently swaying in and out, and watching his face with intensity.

You let him ride his orgasm to the fullest, but that still wasn't enough, and as soon as you noticed, that he was coming down from that high, you picked up the tempo again, dragging out his pleasure as much as you possibly could, letting soft whines escape from his lips and drinking them up as soon as they did. You allowed the panic to slowly set in his eyes when he realized, that you weren't stopping yet, that he didn't have the means to stop you or push you from him, and that he was completely at your mercy. And even though he felt as if a live electric current was running through his body, he was completely fine with that, and even more - he welcomed it with opened arms and allowed himself to be lost in another orgasm, his muscles tensing, and his back in a perfect arch.

Only now you were satisfied and slowly slipped out of him.

While he was still on cloud nine, you undid your harness, freeing yourself, and you also undid the rest of the cuffs that were holding him almost flush against your bed, but you weren't able to do anything more to take care of him for now, because both of his legs were hooked behind you and held you with a force you could just not compete with.

- Mav, honey… - a low grunt escaped from his chest. - Let me go… - you requested because you wanted to get a warm, wet towel to clean both of you up.

- Never… - he laughed, reaching for you and pulled you into his arms, so you were laying in front of him, trapped in a prison made from his limbs, with his head in a nook of your neck. He inhaled your scent deeply as if he wanted to get high on it. Eyes still closed, he listened to your breath, now much slower than just a minute ago. Your heart on the other hand - still racing, and he was able to feel it under your skin with his cheek.

You relaxed in his arms, allowing him to come down from that rush of endorphins. However, his regular breathing against your skin and the radiating heat from his body calmed you enough that you started to doze off, completely content with your life.

A warm, gentle, and soft material moving slowly against your stomach woke you up, and at first, you were a little bit confused, but as soon as you opened your eyes, you realized what was happening. Mav tried to clean you up in your sleep and you smiled, catching his soft gaze.

- Thank you for tonight… - he said softly, leaned, and stole a soft kiss from your lips, only to come back to cleaning you with a soft washcloth.

- You're welcome… - you stretched and yawned… - What time it is…? - a question you could have easily answered yourself by looking at the clock on the nightstand, but you just loved when he did things for you, even as small as that one. You knew it must have been either extremely late, or extremely early because the only source of light was the moon, peeking through the skylight.

- Around 2… - he knew exactly what you were doing, but he didn't mind, on the contrary… - And I'm sorry for before… It was a huge decision much too quickly… - he moved from washing your abdomen, to gently cleaning your left thigh.

- Oh, I don't care about that… - you replied quickly, and he shot you a surprised look. - I mean… We already live together, we're engaged, we're each other's emergency contacts and all that, so merging our finances was a natural step in the correct direction. - his hands slowly moved to your calf, not only cleaning it but massaging the muscles gently. - What I do care about, is that you've made that decision by yourself, without even talking to me. - he lowered his gaze sheepishly. - It made me feel like you didn't care about my opinion and that you thought I didn't have enough to bring to the table, so you didn't even bother discussing it. - you explained, while he was still taking care of your legs. Logically you knew he didn't mean it like that, but that didn't change the fact how he made you feel; his actions hurt you. - For goodness sake, Pete… you didn't even tell me, I found out from the mail. - you added, throwing your head back. Only now you noticed that he changed the bedding and hid all the… additional gear while you slept and that made you smile just a little.

- I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention… I just… want to share my life with you in every possible way. - he explained, gently putting your leg back on the bed and moving to the second one. - But it was wrong of me to act as if it was a one-sided decision. - he added, recognizing where he made a mistake; he will definitely be more careful with that in the future. - I care deeply about what you think and what I did came from ignorance, not maliciousness. - he finished washing your leg and placed a gentle kiss on your right ankle, but when he started to slowly climb higher with his kisses, you stopped him with your other leg. Gods, that man definitely had stamina. - But… - he wanted to protest, but you laughed gently.

- I'm still high on dopamine… I'm good, trust me… You did amazing today. - simple praise, but it came a long way, especially paired with a kiss that you pulled him into, a damp washcloth now completely forgotten somewhere on the floor. This time you were the one wrapping your arms and leg around him, absorbing his body heat; he was your personal aviator-radiator and you loved it because you just couldn't sleep when it was cold. - Fuck, I love you so much… - you whispered with your eyes closed, while he pulled a duvet over both of you and brushed away the hair from your face. In the soft light of the moon, you looked even more beautiful and he wanted to remember that for the rest of his days, so he studied it carefully.

- I love you too… - he finally replied and gently kissed your forehead, but you were already asleep in his arms.

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