#it’s alright though! this is entirely expected

[morbidmorbid]

rare affections i think s2 daryl would like.

fingers scratching at his beard. this is usually followed by typically smaller qualms; brisk disagreements within the group. it was talking to him under the shade of the tree, listening to him swear out selfish complaints about anything, everything. it was telling him to shut the hell up and bringing a chiding hand up to swat at his ears and it stays there then, like appeasing a cat with light scratches rather soothingly against his jaw and beneath his chin.

daryl would nudge away at first like he always did, but he wanted it—needed it more, perhaps—if the way he’d simultaneously lean into it was telling. it seemed it killed him, too—to accept something like this, to surrender to someone, to allow himself to sit and think for a moment.

and he would indeed shut the hell up, fiddling with a handful of arrows with a dwindling frown. it didn’t do much damage control otherwise a bigger situation, though in these observantly smaller moments it did enough.

playing with his hands. he pretends that he hates it, ‘hurts like shit,’ he’d say when you massaged the knuckle, kneaded the palm. the filthiness that he never seemed to wash away would turn up on your own hands as you kept in contact with his. daryl’s flexing fingers and tight joints were a combination that you had to work through, and while it seemed to ease him a bit, it did for you as well.

he would usually talk through it, seemingly not understanding having an idle mouth and mind. if you eased him at the muscles, you simultaneously couldn’t at the mouth. he would talk about his missing brother, about sophia, about the farm and how much disdain he had for the group. and so often would he pause in between spits of negativity to eye the way you soothed over the skin of his hands, and when the air stiffened with his realization of finding a comfort in something, he would swat you away. “s’enough.”

but later when he’d been worked up by something else and you watched the way he mimicked on himself what you often done to him, it was reassuring.

forehead kisses. another thing he pretends to dislike—or rather him declining an act so foreign to himself. it always shocks him, always makes him flinch, always keeps him up and a bit lost. you typically feel that urge whenever he’s hurt or on the brink of sleep or thinking entirely too much and you do it to reassure him without the words. you’re going to be okay. yes, it’s alright to sleep. relax, this doesn’t all fall on you. if it helps or not isn’t too clear at first. if he’s lying down, he is quiet, unreadable eyes on you until he’s turning in the other direction and ending whatever thoughts had even dared to make a head.

but after some time, after he’s expecting it, he practically asks for it. when he’d been grazed, bruised and bandaged and forced to spend valuable time in bed, he talked with you in the midst of the night. you talked loads and he listened and for a while it halted his complaints of being in recovery, and when the night and conversation came to a close, he’d look at you in a way; someone who yearned for something they’d never had. like someone addicted to something that they should have been given but was not.

so when you’d read him completely with a peck to his temple, that’s when he’d finally roll over.

this could probs pertain to daryl at any point in time i think but my obsession for him in the earlier seasons makes me imagine these things in the earlier stages and how they’ve developed idkk. also i want to add that i can only see this being a thing specifically if reader and daryl have known eachother prior to the outbreak, not exactly a relationship but an establishment of something ..

but yes i have a terrible horrible brain eating “i can fix him” delusion and that is why i wrote this

#daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon imagines #daryl x reader #twd #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x you #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead

[imloyaltoscoups]

two bugs | jeongcheol

Standing at the edge of the pool, casually sipping your drink, when a sudden impact knocks the cup from your hand. Pain flares up on your face, and you taste blood. Someone had thrown a volleyball, and it hit you squarely in the mouth. Who the fuck brings a ball to an acquaintance party?

Before you can process the pain fully, you hear laughter. Turning, you see Jeonghan and Seungcheol approaching, grinning like they’ve just heard the funniest joke.

“Your lip is bleeding,” Jeonghan says, his tone mockingly concerned.

You roll your eyes, wiping at the blood with the back of your hand. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Jeonghan steps closer, his eyes glinting with mischief. You barely have time to react before he leans in, his tongue flicking out to lick the blood from your lip. “Tastes metallic,” he murmurs, pulling back slightly, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

Seungcheol, not to be outdone, moves in next. His mouth brushes against yours, teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he gives a gentle nibble. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, though you refuse to let them see you flinch.

Annoyed and unamused, you lift both middle fingers in their direction. “Fuck off, both of you.”

They laugh again, clearly entertained by your reaction, and you find yourself wondering how you ended up friends with these two idiots in the first place.

As you lick your lips, trying to stem the flow of blood, you catch Jeonghan and Seungcheol sharing secretive glances over their drinks, their expressions unreadable. You can't help but feel a pang of discomfort at the situation. It's true; your relationship with them is anything but conventional.

It all started with a hookup, or maybe two separate ones, blurred lines and alcohol making it hard to remember exactly how it began. You didn't know they were friends until later, and somehow, despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself drawn into their orbit.

You never intended to be friends with benefits with either of them, let alone both. But here you are, navigating this strange dynamic where you're more than friends but less than lovers. It's a messy situation, one you're not entirely comfortable with, but they seem to enjoy the ambiguity of it all.

As the silence stretches on, Jeonghan breaks it in his typical straightforward manner. "Let's have sex," he says casually, his tone almost nonchalant.

You glance around nervously, half expecting someone to have overheard his outrageous remarks. With a quick smack to his head, you hiss, "Seriously? In a public place?"

Jeonghan rubs his head, chuckling softly. "Relax, nobody heard it," he reassures you, though you're not entirely convinced.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol takes a sip of his drink, seemingly unfazed by the conversation. "Sounds good to me," he chimes in, but then his expression shifts as if he just remembered something important. "Ah, but aren't you on your period?" he asks, raising an eyebrow in mock innocence.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. Leave it to them to bring up the most awkward details at the most inappropriate times. "Can we please just enjoy the party like normal people?" you mutter, exasperated.

The two of them answer in chorus, a synchronized "No," their grins widening mischievously.

You let out a defeated sigh, raising both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright," you concede, knowing full well that you won't win when it's two against one.

Taking Seungcheol's cup, you down a sip of whatever he's been drinking, trying to distract yourself from the absurdity of the conversation. With a playful smile, you suggest, "Hey, why don't you two go find someone else to bother instead of pestering me all the time?"

Both the two fckers shake their heads in unison, rejecting your proposal. "Nah, you're our favorite toy to play with," Jeonghan says with a playful wink.

Your patience wears thin, and you can't help but curse under your breath. "Fuck both of you," you mutter, half-jokingly.

Their response comes quick and cheeky, "We want to, but you don't like period sex," they say in unison, earning a round of laughter from nearby partygoers who overheard the exchange.

You then start walking away, hoping to escape the relentless banter of the two. As you make your way into the house, the thumping bass of music grows louder, and you find yourself amidst a crowd of dancing students.

Behind you, you hear the familiar voices of Jeonghan and Seungcheol, calling out to you. "Where are you going?" they ask, their tone playful and suggestive.

Trying to shake them off, you quicken your pace, weaving through the crowd until you find yourself standing in front of a closed bedroom door. Without thinking much, you twist the doorknob and slip inside, hoping for a moment of peace.

To your dismay, before you can even process your surroundings, the door swings open behind you, and Jeonghan and Seungcheol step inside, looking amused. "Wow, would you look at that," Jeonghan remarks, a smirk playing on his lips. "An empty room, just when we needed it."

Before you can protest or attempt to flee, one of them steps forward and locks the door behind them, sealing your fate with the two troublemakers. Panic starts to rise within you as you realize there's no way out.

You take a cautious step back as they advance, their playful demeanor sending a chill down your spine. With nowhere to run, you find yourself backed into a corner, their smirks growing wider with each step they take.

Seungcheol's taunting words only add to the tension in the room, his voice thick with suggestion. "Come on now, don't be shy," he repeats, his eyes glimmering with mischief. "It's not like we haven't done anything before," he adds, his tone teasing.

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the memories that his words evoke. Despite your best efforts to resist, the reminder of your past encounters with them sends a shiver down your spine.

Jeonghan's voice cuts through the tension, his words surprising you. "We won't have sex... for now," he declares, his tone surprisingly serious. "We respect that you're not a fan of period sex."

You feel a rush of relief wash over you at his understanding, grateful that they're willing to set aside their desires for your comfort. But then he continues, his words sending a jolt of heat through you. "But we really need you," he admits, his tone low and urgent. "No other girls can satisfy our needs. And we know you're just like us. No hookups can satisfy you either."

Jeonghan steps closer, his hand extending towards you. Without hesitation, you grasp it, allowing him to pull you closer until your bodies are inches apart.

He leans in, you feel his warm breath against your lips before his mouth captures yours in a passionate kiss. His lips are soft yet demanding, his tongue gently probing, seeking entrance.

You part your lips in response, granting him access as the kiss deepens, becoming more fervent with each passing moment. His tongue explores your mouth with a fervor that leaves you breathless, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

As the intensity of the kiss with Jeonghan threatens to consume you, you're suddenly pulled back by Seungcheol, his grip firm on your arm. Before you can react, his lips crash onto yours, the force of his kiss catching you off guard.

A gasp escapes your lips as Seungcheol bites down gently on your lower lip, eliciting a mixture of pleasure and surprise. You feel a jolt of electricity shoot through you as he deepens the kiss, his tongue invading your mouth with a dominating force.

As you pull away, gasping for breath, the intensity of the moment hangs heavy in the air. But before you can even gather your thoughts, the two men are already voicing their desires, their pleas for you to satisfy them echoing in the room.

"Please," they both say, their voices laced with need as they ask you to suck them off.

You nod in agreement, your own arousal growing with each passing moment. As you kneel down before them, they eagerly unbuckle their pants, freeing their hardened cocks.

Without hesitation, you take Seungcheol's member into your mouth, feeling him throb against your tongue as you eagerly work him with your lips and tongue. Meanwhile, your hand wraps around Jeonghan's shaft, providing him with a steady rhythm of pleasure.

The room fills with their moans, their praises of your skillful ministrations mingling with the sounds of their pleasure. "Oh, fuck," Seungcheol groans, his voice strained with ecstasy. "You're so good, Y/N."

Jeonghan's breath hitches as you switch your attention to him, his head falling back in ecstasy. "Yes, just like that," he moans, his hands tangling in your hair as he guides your movements.

As you continue to alternate between them, their arousal mounting with each passing moment, you can't help but revel in the power you hold over them, the pleasure you're able to elicit. And in this moment, with their praises echoing in your ears, you feel a sense of satisfaction unlike anything else.

As you continue to switch between them, alternating between sucking Jeonghan and Seungcheol, the intensity of the moment builds with each passing second. But before you realize it, they take matters into their own hands, guiding their cocks into your mouth simultaneously.

You're momentarily overwhelmed by the sensation of having both of them filling your mouth, their moans mingling together in the air. Despite the initial surprise, you eagerly adapt, taking them both in as deeply as you can, your tongue working to pleasure them both.

Their hisses of pleasure fill the room as you work your magic, the sounds driving you to new heights of arousal. You can feel them nearing their climax, the tension in their bodies reaching a fever pitch.

And then, it happens. They both reach their peak simultaneously, releasing their hot, sticky loads into your mouth. You swallow eagerly, trying to keep up with the flood of sensation as their release coats your tongue and slides down your throat.

But there's too much, and some spills over, spreading across your face and lips in a glistening mess. You close your eyes, savoring the moment as you lick your lips clean, the taste of them still lingering on your tongue.

As the two guys catch their breath, their chests heaving with exertion, they exchange a satisfied glance, a shared understanding of the intense pleasure they've just experienced. "That was the best," Jeonghan remarks, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

You can't help but smile at their words, feeling a warmth spread through you at the knowledge that you've satisfied them both. But as you glance down at yourself, you realize the mess they've made, their essence staining your shirt and skin.

Before you can even voice a complaint, Seungcheol acts quickly, forcefully removing Jeonghan's jacket and draping it over your shoulders. Meanwhile, Jeonghan reaches for his handkerchief, gently wiping the traces of their release from your face with a tenderness that surprises you.

As they help you stand and tidy yourself up, you feel a rush of gratitude towards them, despite their occasional antics. They may be a pain in the ass at times, but in moments like these, their care and consideration shine through.

With their pants buckled up once more, they each lean in and press a kiss to your cheek, a silent gesture of gratitude and affection. As you three started to head out.

Jeonghan begins to open his mouth, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he turns to Seungcheol. "Hey, when will Y/N's period end? I can't wait to—"

Before he can even finish his sentence, you instinctively slap him on the arm, cutting him off mid-word. "Seriously, Hannie?" you exclaim, rolling your eyes at his audacity.

Jeonghan winces, rubbing his arm where you struck him, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Ow, okay, okay, I get it," he mumbles, realizing he's crossed a line once again.

Seungcheol chuckles beside him, shaking his head in amusement. "You never learn, do you?" he teases, shooting a sympathetic glance in your direction.

....... ≿━━━━━༺S.COUPS༻━━━━━≾ .......

....... ≿━━━━༺JEONGHAN༻━━━━≾ .......

#seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x you #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #svt oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #jeongcheol #yoon jeonghan x you #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x y/n #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #seungcheol x you #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #s.coups x reader #s.coups smut #s.coups imagines #s.coups scenarios #choi seungcheol x you #choi seungcheol smut

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Yes, yes, we love a bit of hero whump, though may I suggest if it is not too much.... some villain whump? 👀

-💜

Most of the time, the villain could deal with injuries perfectly. In fact, they'd been in med school for several years and had perfected stitching up nearly every inch of their own body. Usually, they wouldn't accept help under any circumstances.

Partly because it felt wrong to bother someone else with their troubles, partly because they were terrified of other people's (non-existing) skills. They couldn't risk it.

But they assumed being placed under house arrest with the hero watching them wasn't exactly usual.

It happened in the middle of a card game between the two of them. A week ago, they would have never agreed to such silly things but after a few days, they had realised there wasn't much to do. No internet connection. No smartphone, no TV. Just this house and a hyperactive hero that couldn't sit still.

Once a week they got to call their parents.

In the exact moment as they put another card onto the stack, the villain felt the stitches open one by one. At first, they simply denied it, made themselves think that it wasn't that bad. They were simply mistaken; it was surely just the usual pain and they were exaggerating.

But the pain increased and they could feel the wetness of the blood trickle down their back. A week ago, before the hero had captured them, they'd been in a pretty rough shape. A swollen face, several nasty bruises and this one stab wound that kept reopening. And stitching their own back? That was more than a little challenge. They hated it, they loathed it.

"I think I have to use the washroom," they said.

"Oh, really? Now that you're losing, huh?" The hero raised an eyebrow. They took these games a little too serious. "Do you seriously expect me to go easy on you because I am the hero? I've been playing this game for years. I have mastered it and I will destroy you, no matter what it takes. No matter what you try, I will-"

"Okay, you win, oh almighty hero." They threw their cards onto the table. It was getting worse. They didn't even know if they could stand up without tripping. Their vision blurred. Everything seemed to turn upside down.

"'Hey, that's not how this works," the hero said. "You can't just give up like that. I was supposed to defeat you."

"M-hm." The villain stood up and for a second, they really thought they would pass out. They took in a deep breath.

"Wait, are you okay?"

"Hm?" The villain didn't find the hero's eyes right away and they could feel their own body sway. God, they needed painkillers, rubbing alcohol, thread, needle... "Yeah, be right back."

They walked past the hero, always in search for something to hold onto but they didn't come very far.

"Oh my god." The hero sounded a little too concerned. The villain thought themselves to be quite a good actor and they weren't even swaying that much. "What the...?"

The hero was next to them in seconds, their hand on the villain's arm. They held onto them.

"What did you do...?"

"What? Nothing, I...oh fuck..." Involuntarily, they grabbed the hero a little too harshly when they felt the wound pulsating.

"Your entire shirt is drenched in blood!" The hero's gaze had hardened and a more concentrated look had replaced their playful smile.

"I got it, it's alright," the villain mumbled. They let go of the hero to drag themselves to the bathroom but the hero had other plans.

"Lay down on the couch," they said.

"You're not my boss," the villain argued. Sometimes, they hated themselves for their stubborness but being nursed by the hero sounded like a greater punishment than even house arrest. Being vulnerable around them, letting someone else take care of them...it sounded like actual hell.

"Please," the hero said. They took the villain's hand and the villain was so confused by this gentle approach that they almost forgot about the pain. They were sure no one else would ever beg to take care of them. When they remembered how violent their capture had been and how many heroes had punched them, they got goosebumps.

They would never tell anyone but they were having nightmares about their fights. Anxiety was eating them up. So, they were almost glad that the hero was observing them at their home.

"It's fine, really," the villain mumbled. "I got it."

"You are bleeding out. You're not fine. Sit down." More or less of their own volition, the villain eventually sat down on the couch. "I'll take your shirt off now, alright?"

The villain's hand was still in theirs.

"Okay," the villain agreed. Their breath hitched and they prepared themselves for the inevitable pain that would follow. However, the hero wasn't rough with them.

"Isn't that from last week?" the hero asked while they pulled the bloody shirt over the villain's head.

"Yeah."

"They gave me an entire protocol about your injuries. There wasn't anything about a stab wound. Just your ankle and your face."

The villain smiled tiredly. "Sounds about right."

It wasn't a big secret that the agency preferred to be silent on how exactly they caught their villains.

Against the villain's burning back, the hero's cold fingers felt heavenly. They put their palm against the villain's skin and pushed them a little forward to see the injury better.

"Did you stitch that yourself?"

"I tried, yeah."

"It looks pretty good," the hero said. "Just give me a second, I will grab everything."

The hero stood up and left for the bathroom.

And the villain sat there, perplexed. When had they ever allowed someone else to even touch them? When had they ever undressed in front of someone else?

What was happening? Were they really this desperate loser who needed comfort that bad?

The villain stared at their hands, their trembling hands. There was no way they could stitch any wound like this, not even if it was on their thigh.

It was more than frustrating, more than a little annoying.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Allergies maybe?" the hero asked. The villain turned around and was surprised to see the hero with all the things they would have grabbed too. There were even painkillers and a glass of water in their hand. The villain shook their head. "Alright. Take this."

All of it was a little...too good to be true. What the hero asked seemed reasonable and their actions were too. The villain swallowed the painkillers and watched as the hero sat on the couch. They pressed a clean towel against the villain's wound and despite their carefulness, the villain hissed.

"Your pain from one to ten? How bad is it?"

"I..." the villain realised they had never thought about it. Usually when they tended to their own wounds they were like a machine, following instructions they had burnt into their system a long time ago. It didn't matter if it burnt or hurt, as long as the wound was closed. But the hero was actually communicating, they were careful and gentle. "...maybe a three?"

"Are you sure?"

"Okay, it's a five." The hero seemed to be another person completely, their jokes and their cheery manner were long gone, yet they were friendly and soft. Apparently, this was the professional side of the hero.

"Do you think it was a clean knife? Your wound doesn't seem to be infected."

"It should have been. Heroes clean their knives regularly, don't they?" For a moment, the hero was quiet and the villain wasn't sure if they had said the wrong thing. They cleared their throat. "Uhm, I can also stitch the wound, if you..."

"No, it's okay. It looks pretty clean, so I'm not going to put any alcohol on it. Don't want to damage your tissue." Woah. The villain had never really cared about that. They'd just drench their wounds in alcohol to kill any infection causing thing, even if that damaged their tissue. "One more thing before I start stitching."

"Yeah?"

"Just out of curiosity. Do you know whom of my colleagues did this to you?"

The villain's stomach tingled. The hero was probably not asking out of pure curiosity.

#ALWAYS #writing snippet #heroxvillain snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #request #an answer for an ask #villain whump #h/c

[ohdearlingwhathappened]

A Pair Made in The Pits

Falling Behind Pt. 3- TFP Megatron x Reader

Part 1, Part 2

A/n: Thank you all, once again for your patience and understanding on the time it took for this chapter's release. It was hard to find time to write between multiple ER visits and the passing of my dog, but I was finally able to finish it up! I hope you all enjoy, and I would love to hear your thoughts. WC: 7099

And thank you to @callsign-relic for allowing me to commission her beautiful work for my story's cover art! You always make amazing pieces!

Warnings: Torture, cursing, Starscream and Megatron being a dick, and deprecation. If I've missed anything, please let me know

Y/n wasn’t sure as to how one of the Autobots- probably Optimus- had returned her car to her driveway, but she wasn’t complaining. She did, however, inwardly groan over the fact she forgot to turn off her 6am alarm after all of yesterday’s excitement, especially after the awful sleep she had. Y/n’s mind kept her up all night, the voices of anxiety now practically screaming that something was wrong- that something wrong was done. And it wasn’t until she had finally gotten to sleep did it feel that seconds later her alarm was blaring in her ear. 

Getting up, against the wants of her body, Y/n slowly makes her way to her kitchen, debating whether or not she wants coffee or tea to start her morning. Looking in her fridge and seeing a lack of milk, the decision is easily made and she fills her kettle with water and begins preparing the steeper and getting the oolong out of the cabinet. However, before being able to take the first sip, the sound of the rumbling and then resounding hiss of a semi coming to a stop. Taking a look outside her living room window, there sits Optimus, waiting for Y/n to come outside, presumably to go back to the base.

“Shit.” Y/n groans, rubbing the bridge of her nose, wondering if the kids are also being ushered out of the house this early. 

Pouring her tea into a travel tumbler, Y/n scurries around her house to take a quick shower and get changed into a black blouse tucked into a midi, and finishing it off with a pair of booties. She applies some makeup and practically runs out the door, grabbing a random book on the way. 

“... Good morning, Optimus.” The passenger side door pops open and Y/n quickly climbs in and makes herself comfortable. The woman gives an airy laugh while fiddling with her hair, “I didn’t expect you so soon, I had to rush around to get ready.”

“Good morning, Y/n. I apologize- I did not mean to rush you, though it may be best to get back to the base sooner than later.” The cab hums with his response- even if Y/n hadn’t been inside, she was sure she would have felt the baritone vibrations nonetheless. 

The drive back was long and quiet, much like last night. Taking a sip of her tea, Y/n finally looks down at the book, and it takes all of her restraint not to spit it out onto his dashboard. What looks back up at Y/n is a sweaty, shirtless cowboy and the title ‘Ride into My Heart Like a Stallion’. A gag gift given to them by their friend half-way across the country, of which Y/n never intended to touch, let alone read. Y/n couldn’t help but truly consider the pros and cons on whether or not she could just chuck the book, but she knew it would drag up more questions if she just threw the book out the window, so she simply crossed her arms over it and hoped that no one would ask her about it throughout the day. 

“Y/n?”

Snapped out of her thoughts, Y/n looks over to the head unit of the dash, not entirely sure where to look before responding, “Sorry, it seems I was lost in my own thoughts.”

“I was asking if you needed to stop anywhere before heading back to base? We do not have much for humans at this moment.”

“Oh um, no, I’m alright. I have my tea and a book, and I’m sure the children will be able to keep themselves occupied as well. I’m not completely familiar with the boys, but Miko will most assuredly be fine; give that girl a pencil, paper, and something of interest, she’ll be kept busy for a while.” Y/n laughs to herself for a moment, though a worried expression passes over her face, “She’s a creative girl, but I worry about her being lonely. Her host parents aren’t used to her, and she doesn’t really have any friends at the school. I think, despite the rather strange circumstances, that perhaps being with you all may be good for her.”

“You seem to care for them well. Do you have sparklings of your own?’

“Sparkl- oh, Children? No no no. I don’t have any- um- sparklings. Closest thing I hope to get to that is Miko. I haven’t figured out my own grievances in this world, and it wouldn’t feel right to bring life into a world where your own quotemate may be a cruel joke.”

“A quotemate?”

Y/n takes a deep breath through her nose and casts her eyes to the ceiling of Optimus’ cab, trying to come up with a succinct explanation to the complex system that not even humanity has completely figured out, “Well, a quotemate is someone you are connected to. In the simplest of terms, your quotemate is the person who is supposed to protect, love, and stand beside you. And the way you find them is a quote that appears on one of your wrists- hence, ‘quotemate’. There’s a few more details, but that’s the gist of it.”

“We had a similar- but not very common- phenomenon on Cybertron, however, we call our fated ones ‘sparkmates’.”

“It’s a much prettier word than our species’. Why sparkmates?”

“Your kind call them hearts; we call it a Spark. It contains our life force and our memories. And in the case of the ones in which we are destined, they are our other half and thus hold the other half of our spark. Those of our kind who have a sparkmate were encouraged and expected to cherish and hold them dear.” Optimus’ cab is silent for a moment for a moment, “Though, after the start of the war, people began dreading hearing the words engraved on their frame, fearing their other half would be on the other side of the battlefield.”

“...Do you have a sparkmate, Optimus?” Another hum runs through the cab, before turning into the slightest chuckle.

“I do. He’s not the easiest mech to get along with, but I would never have made it as long as I have without him.” The bot’s facial feature may not be present, but Y/n can easily imagine the fond, endearing smile that would have otherwise found itself on the large mech’s lips. “I will be forever grateful for Ratchet’s undying support.”

“Ratchet?!” Once the statement sets in, Y/n’s head whips from the ceiling of the cab to the center dashboard at the revelation.

“You sound surprised.”

“Well, I haven’t spent much time around Ratchet, but he’s not the most- how do I put this- welcoming?”

“I will admit Ratchet is wary about the involvement of you and the children, but he will not cause you harm.”

“OH! Oh no- I- I didn’t mean to- to imply that he- I know Ratchet wouldn’t hurt the children! He just visibly doesn’t seem to like us.” Waving her hands in denial, Y/n scrambles to fix the miswording of her statement, but it doesn’t seem Optimus was too worried about the misunderstanding.

“Give Ratchet time, he will adjust. I have no doubt you both will get along with time.”

“You’re right- after all, we all will be spending much more time with each other. I look forward to getting to know all of you.” She smiles, glad to know Optimus, and likely the rest of them will take good care of the kids and herself. Maybe she would be able to pick Ratchet’s mind at some point for information about the anatomy or history of the Cybertron people.

*       *       *       *       *       *

“WHAT WAS THAT?!” This is not what the young woman had hoped would be, quite literally, crawling around the base, but she couldn’t peel her eyes away from the thing that Ratchet had just squashed, “I hope to hell and back that is not what you people consider some kind of bug!”

“No, Y/n. I’m afraid this may be the effects of dark energon.” Though Optimus’ voice is normally quite dark, Y/n could easily pick up on the deep worry that whatever this ‘dark energon’ brings, means nothing good will come of its arrival in the base. “ Seeing as it has some of the residue Arcee found on Cliffjumper, it would stand to reason that it was what brought both your equipment to life and Cliffjumper back from the dead.”

“It would answer the question as to why Cliffjumper’s life signal came back online, but dark energon, Optimus? It’s such a scarce material- it’s virtually nonexistent. Why would it be on this rubbish planet?”

“May I interject?” Both bots turn their attention to the woman they had evidently forgotten was there- one much more open to the interruption than the other. “Um- may I ask what energon is? I thought you said your people’s Allspark was made of it, so why would it attack Ratchet? ”

At the question, Ratchet scoffs and begins running diagnostics on the squished piece of equipment that previously housed some of this energon stuff. His blatant display of annoyance was no less irritating than it was yesterday, but not only did Y/n not want to start some sort of argument with Optimus’ sparkmate, it also wouldn’t get them anywhere, so she would refrain from mouthing off to the condescending mech. At some point, she was going to have to have a one on one conversation with Ratchet about speech behavior and ways to go about explaining things without making the rest of the room feel as if they’re a massive inconvenience, but now was not the time- no matter how tempting it was to tell him to shove his opinions up his tailpipe. 

“Energon is the lifesource of our people. Dark energon is something that can give life-” Optimus gestures towards the mangled metal, “- but the cost is great. Not much is known about it, as Ratchet stated- dark energon is a rare commodity, but it is not something to underestimate, hence why I believe Megatron is the reason why it has found its way to this planet’s surface.”

Both Y/n and Ratchet look at Optimus, almost in synch, “But why?”

“To conquer this planet by raising an army of the undead.”

“Where would he find that many Cybertronian dead, Optimus? It’s not like Megatron is going to just stumble on a burial ground on this planet.” At least the sass Ratchet displays isn’t always just directed at any human- his leader isn’t even exempt from the proverbial lashings of the team’s medic, though Y/n supposes that may have something to do with them being connected.

Before Optimus could answer, his thoughts are interrupted by the sounds of the rest of the Autobots’ alt-modes. Upon stopping, each kid hops out of their respective guardian, having obviously come from some kind of fun. Looking at her phone, Y/n realizes that it's still a little early in the day, so she is a tad surprised they woke up this early on a Saturday, but she’s glad to see all of them having fun and maybe even bonding with their new companions. Seeing Bulkhead awkwardly handing Miko her electric guitar, she already has a feeling the girl will be putting on at least one show while they are at the base, knowing the acoustics are much too tempting for the girl to not play at least one song. 

“Autobots, remain here. Ratchet and I will be outside of communications range for some time, so I’m putting you in charge.” Optimus give his orders 

“Optimus, with all due respect, playing bodyguard is one thing, babysitting is another.” The sight of Jack scoffing and rolling his eyes at her wording is easy to see- any kid his age wouldn’t like the idea of being babysat, even if it was by an alien robot. The femme crosses her arms before gesturing towards the medic, “Besides, Ratchet hasn’t been in the field since the war.”

“My pistons may be rusty, but my hearing is as sharp as ever!” Ratchet’s call from his computer forces a laugh barely covered by a cough from Y/n, which she quickly mouths a ‘sorry’ when he shoots her a look. 

“For the moment, it is only reconnaissance.” Optimus tries to assure the smaller bot, but both Arcee and Y/n could smell the bullshit from a mile away.

“Then why do I hear an edge in your voice?” 

At her continued questioning, Optimus pauses and furrows his brows, “Arcee, much has changed in the past 24 hours. We must all learn to adapt.” Before she could get another word out, he turns to Ratchet, “Ratchet, bridge us out.”

And with just a few steps, they were gone.

“Okay chief, so, uh, what’s on the activity list?” Jack looks up to his mechanical guardian only to be met with a scowl.

“If I’m not mistaken, Jack, you should have some schoolwork to do. Why don’t we give them a break from whatever activities they treated you to this morning?” Y/n smiles at the kids, trying to give the Autobots a needed time off from their newly appointed roles as guardians. “Miko, you can practice some of your guitar and then start on some of your work, and Raf, I’m not sure of your schoolwork load, but I suggest you start on any work you may have.”

“Yes ma’am.” All three kids say, some more begrudgingly than others, all while setting up for whatever they are to get done.

“Good, I’m going on Patrol. Bee, you’re with me.” Arcee makes her way to the tunnel, ready to go out.

“But Optimus told us to stay here.” Bulkhead brought up the leader’s orders before almost immediately being shot down. 

“When Optimus puts you in charge, you can call the shots.” With that, both Arcee and Bee transform and are down in the tunnel in seconds, leaving the kids, Y/n, and Bulkhead left.

“So, uh, what’s on the activities list?” Bulk turns, seeing Miko plugging in her guitar to the amp, the feedback forcing everyone to cover their ears.

“Band practice, anyone?” After a moment of silence, she turns to the younger boy, “Come on, Raf. You play anything?”

“Um… Keyboard?”

“Laptop and samples-”

Y/n smiles and shakes her head, glad to see the kids are getting along before opening her book and tea thermos, taking a seat near Ratchet’s computer stand so as to not get in the kids’ way. She never planned on reading this kookie book her friend sent her, but it was either the book or be subjected to joining Miko’s makeshift band after an already hectic week.

“Y/n, are you joining?”

“Nah, I’m good with just listening, Miko. You know I prefer listening to you play.” Shooting the girl a smile and thumbs up, she returns to the downright awful writing of this cowboy love story. Y/n has to go to the bookstore at some point to send an equally bad book. Maybe a silly alien romance book- forbidden love. They’ll be rolling on the floor at the concept. 

As the woman chuckles to herself, the familiar green lights from yesterday start blaring, letting them know Agent Fowler had returned. Bulkhead rushed the kids to hide behind his pedes and Y/n didn’t want to risk being seen running over, so she kept her spot under Ratchet’s computer and motioned to the kids to stay quiet just as the elevator door opened.

“Prime? Prime!” Y/n couldn’t see the man, but she could tell that he must still be on the platform, since she could no longer hear his footsteps. Just like yesterday, he did not sound happy.

“Agent Fowler, uh, he’s not here. Nobody’s here! … except me, of course.” The green bot chuckles awkwardly, and Y/n silently groans- this mech is going to get them all caught if his nerves take over. 

“Well, where is he? Wait, let me guess-” as Fowler rants and raves he must have started to move because Bulkhead begins taking steps to keep the kids out of sight. However, his movements and the cable to Miko’s guitar don’t seem to be mixing well, from the way Y/n sees Miko nearly fall, only for the boys to catch her. But the slight fall was enough for the guitar to send sound through the amp, she just hopes that it wasn’t enough to break the man from his tirade.

“Since when are you bots electric?” Fowler questions and Y/n is pleading for whatever deity that may be listening to grant Bulkhead the ability to come up with some kind of lie, but the kids beat him to it.

“Hi. We’re… interns! Earning extra credit in auto shop.” Jack awkwardly smiles, hoping his lie is bought.

“Alright. Let’s move. I’m taking all three of you into federal custody.” Hearing his footfalls on the metal stairs, Y/n makes her way over, picking up a piece of the squashed robot from earlier that Ratchet must have missed. 

“Over my dead body.” She holds up the metal piece like a makeshift bat, more than ready to take a swing.

“Woah there. By the stripes of Uncle Sam’s shorts, ma’am, put the weapon down. I’m just going to take you and these kids to-” Taking a step back, Agent Fowler puts his hands up to show he didn’t mean any harm, only to be cut off by the woman again.

“Nowhere. You are taking these kids nowhere. Optimus has promised protection for these kids and like hell will I allow some random ass man, trusted government agent or not, to touch a hair on these kids’ heads, let alone take them anywhere.” Y/n takes a look behind her, and in seeing the kids looking between Y/n and Fowler apprehensively, she drops the metal to her side, not letting go in case something goes awry, “… I will go with you, if it will get you to leave.”

“What?!” Miko shrieks, coming to hold onto the sleeve of Y/n’s blouse, making her briefly glance back before bringing her attention back to Agent Fowler, ”You can’t go with him! He-”

“Bulkhead, get Miko.”

“Uh I don’t-”

“Get her now, Bulkhead. She is your ward, act like it.” She shoots the metal giant a glare, watching as he finally picks the girl up, not that she went peacefully.

“No! Put me down, Bulk!” Miko thrashes in his hold as Y/n walks towards Fowler.

“Let’s go have a conversation with whomever your boss is, shall we? I’m sure I can convince them that leaving these children in Optimus’ care is the best course of action.” She grins at the man as she passes him on the way to the elevator, a grin that holds a level of malice that makes Fowler nearly let the woman just stay instead of getting in the confined space of his helicopter.

But only nearly.

“And I know that my superiors will have all of you in custody.” He grabs her elbow and finishes leading her up the steps and into the elevator. Both adults could hear Miko screeching in Bulk’s grasp, threats and complaints that turned to pleading the closer Y/n got to that elevator. Y/n didn’t say anything. She didn’t look back. But with every step she took, her heart squeezed with each scream from the girl. It isn’t until they get onto the elevator and the doors close that the tension from her shoulders ease and the breath escapes her. 

“Is that so? I’d say if your superiors are as weak-willed as you, I’ll be back before it’s time for the kids to be back home.” She doesn’t bother looking over at the man, not even as he mumbles something about respect and ‘women and alien robots being the problem with his blood pressure’. 

Before long, the elevator comes to a creaky stop and the doors open to reveal the orange hue of the rock the base is hidden under and a view that, under different circumstances, would be quite gorgeous, especially with the breeze taking away from the baking early fall sun. A few feet away lies the helicopter Agent Fowler presumably arrived in earlier. The reality of the past ten minutes was setting in with each step they took towards the vehicle and while Y/n absolutely would have stood up for those kids again in a heartbeat, maybe she wouldn’t have given herself as collateral quite as quickly. 

“Get comfortable, it’s gonna be a long 5 hour flight.” Tired of his hold on her arm, Y/n pulls herself away before scrambling up into the body of the helicopter, grimacing at her lack of grace. 

“I don’t suppose you’ll be providing in-flight snacks. After all, you seem to have such star spangled hosting skills.” She adjusts herself in the passenger seat, and never in her wildest days would she ever thought she would hope and pray for a vehicle to turn into a giant robot and prevent her from being sent to a government facility, but here she sits- hoping for just that.

“Are you going to be pushing my buttons this entire flight, or will I have an ounce of peace on the way to the Pentagon?” Fowler pulls himself up, lacking his own grace and nearly falling face first into his seat, forcing a snort to come from Y/n.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to send me back to the base.” The suggestion brings out a laugh of Fowler’s own, no other answer needed nor given. Starting up the chopper, he glances over to ensure the straps were done properly before handing a set of headphones to Y/n, before the sound of the blades becomes too loud.

Finally, the vehicle lifts off the ground and the flight to Washington D.C. begins, making Y/n wonder if she could properly time being over one of the larger ‘islands’ of sandstone littering the Nevada desert to jump out of the copter, but deigns it too risky to attempt. While she’s turning over possible solutions in her head, Fowler rings his boss, “Sir, Agent Fowler. We have a situation. I’m en route from the autobot base. I’ll brief you in person.”

Choosing to save her breath, Y/n continues looking out the window of her side of the vehicle, noting the sun ebbing its way closer to being at its highest point. That was one thing she hated about this area, while she found the landscape to be gorgeous, it quickly became boring seeing the exact same hues of orange, yellow, brown, and the occasional reds. It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes after Fowler informed his boss of his location that the sonar built into the dashboard started beeping with an icon flashing on the screen, getting closer to the center of the sonar’s radius. 

“I am begging you to tell me that is either a big bird or a friend.”

“What in Uncle Sam’s beard-” Looking up from the dashboard, Y/n sees some kind of drone flying right at them and lets out a shout, pushing the steering gear to the side with her foot before the thing coming their way. Luckily, Fowler snaps out of his shock quickly enough to grab the steering before the both of you could go crashing into the canyon side. 

“Watch it!” 

“You watch the fucking drone!” And as if her luck wasn't bad enough, in the next moment, the helicopter jostles, claws of whatever had attacked them now sinking into the roof of the helicopter's cab. Moving in her seat, Y/n looks up to the ceiling and shrieks upon seeing the sharp talons that easily make up the length of her face stuck in the metal above her, forcing the agent to cover his ears. 

With a harsh yank from above, the copter jerks in response and the last thing Y/n remembers is the feeling of the cold, hard glass making a sharp impact with the back of her head, before everything went dark.

*       *       *       *       *       *

The feeling of weightlessness while simultaneously feeling as if something is pulling you down by your ankles is something Y/n can confidently say she's never felt before. That sensation accompanied by the frigid air around her and the pain of having her arms being held twisted uncomfortably in the air made her transition back to consciousness that much more unpleasant. Tension and pain racks her body every step closer she gets to being awake, drawing out a strained hiss from the woman.

“Ooh? Look who's finally decided to join the party.” A scratchy voice drawls from a few feet to her left. Opening her eyes, Y/n is met with two bright, red eyes made all the more piercing with the bot's white dots that must act as pupils. Despite the strain on her throat and body, she lets out an ear-shattering scream and kicks the new mech.

“Ach! Why you little-”

“Where am I?! Who the fuck are you?! Let me down!” Paying little mind to the irritated figure before her, she struggles in her chains, squirming and shaking.

“Awwww the little human wants to be let go?” A sharp talon pricks Y/n's chin and lifts it to bring her eyes back to his, the grin on his face a celebration of his premature victory.

“Yes! Please!”

“How polite. Such a rarity in humans.” He chuckles to himself, obviously thinking his little stab to be funny. “All you have to tell me, dear, is where the Autobot base is. Can you do that for me?”

“Don't tell him anything!” Finally, Fowler speaks up from Y/n's left, shocking her into whipping her head to face him, not having even noticed his presence prior to him yelling.

A silence fills the cold, dark room and Y/n looks back to the mech before her, a desperate look in her eyes, “I'm sorry, what's an autobot?”

The mech wrenches back, his grin twisting into an infuriated scowl. Standing to his full height, he wraps the chains that hold her around his hand and pulls them up and towards him, further twisting her arms until a sickening pop echoes in the room, forcing a scream to rip from her throat. Any kindness, faux or no, had vanished as the bot before her snarls, “What do you mean, you don’t know?!”

Y/n’s breathing is shallow and panicked, the burning sensation surging down her arm and through her shoulder causing her to squeeze shut her eyes. Luckily, it was only her right arm, but there was no time to appreciate that. After a moment, she opens her eyes to see the now-blurry mech leaned down in front of her through the tears building and streaming down her face, she hiccups, “I’m sorry! I don’t know what you’re talking about, I swear!”

“Fine. If you’re going to play like this, I have no choice but to escalate matters.” He brings himself back up to his full height and turns to another bot who presumably is standing guard at the door. “Bring the prod.”

Prod?! If struggling in her chains wouldn’t exasperate her dislocated shoulder, Y/n would be moving every which way in order to find some way to get out of this nightmarish shitshow.

“Please, sir. I don’t know anything about any Auto people! I was picked up by this man after getting lost in the desert.” Tears beginning to subside, Y/n glances at Fowler and then back to Starscream, “I’m sure you’re a reasonable… robot-”

“I am not one of your feeble human machines, I am Starscream! Current second-in-command and future leader of the Decepticons!” The door opens, letting more cold, stale air into the room, and the bot from earlier reenters the room, holding what can only be described as some futuristic bident. Starscream snatches the device from the other Decepticon, “Finally, what took you so long?!”

“I’ll be nice and give you one more opportunity, humans- where is the Autobot base?” Switching his tactics to address Fowler, he leans down to the man and holds the prod up to his chin.

“Sure thing,buddy, right after you eat my star-spangled shorts.” Fowler laughs but is quickly cut short as Starscream activates his prod, a pink electrical current running between the two prongs. Upon pressing it to Agent Fowler’s ribs, the man screams in pain, clutching his own chains in an attempt to ground himself.

“No!”

“As I imagined, energon and human nervous systems don’t mix.” As he keeps the energon-infused prod pressed to Fowler’s skin, his grin only grows. With each press of the instrument, the clothes begin to sear away, allowing the energon access to his bare skin, no doubt doing further damage, if the smell of burning skin is anything to go by.

“Starscream, leave him alone! Please!” Voices in her head plead with her to keep her mouth shut, to no avail. The man is suffering, and while Y/n wasn’t exactly Fowler’s biggest fan for taking her away from the Autobot base, she didn’t want to see the poor man suffer.

And he stops, but only for a moment. The humming of the torture device and the heavy gulps of air Fowler sucks into his lungs at the brief interlude fill the otherwise silent room. Starscream’s eyes flick back and forth, not really focusing on anything. After another moment, he gives a thoughtful hum of his own, “Perhaps you’re right. I may have been going about this all along.”

“Yes! I’m glad you-”

“If what you say is true, that means you’re an innocent human. And what a shame it would be if a, what do you humans call them- “protector of the people” was to allow a civilian to face such methods of… interrogation.” And without another moment’s pause, knives felt as if they were entering Y/n’s bloodstream from where Starscream jabs her, ripping yet another agonizing scream from her throat. 

“Stop it, con! She has nothing to do with any of this.” Fowler barks, jostling his chain to attempt to wriggle out of his constraints.

“Precisely. The faster you tell me where the Autobots are hiding, the sooner I stop hurting our friend here.” Driving the point home he jams the prod back into Y/n’s ribcage, releasing another scream from the woman. Similar to when Fowler was receiving the same “Decepticon hospitality” Y/n’s clothes began to singe away. Fighting the desire to keep her eyes closed, she struggles to look at Fowler and give him the briefest of shaking her head, before letting it hang down, the weight of her own head too much to keep up.

I am not doing this just for you to give it away, Fowler. Don’t fuck this up.

She knew she couldn’t say anything that may give her away, so the hope is that her fellow prisoner could understand to keep his mouth shut, even if she is to suffer for it. The next jolt was to her right arm, as if that arm hadn’t already been pulled from its socket, just at the crook of her elbow. To drive home the fact that he didn’t plan on letting up, Starscream dug the prod in harder against her skin, drawing blood to the surface. He finally retracts the weapon and holds Y/n’s head up with a dagger-like finger on each cheek, turning her to fully face Fowler, not that she could see him very clearly, “Come now, Agent Fowler. I don’t think our friend has much more in her. Haven’t you realized the Autobots have abandoned you? I am the only one you can rely upon now. So, tell me what I want to know, or we’ll see how many more she can take.”

“Please… no more. I’ll tell you,” Fowler breaks eye contact with Y/n, ashamed to give up after she’s done so much to keep quiet. He couldn’t keep sitting back, letting her take the brunt of Starscream’s sadism anymore. It takes so much strength for him to muster the words, “They’re in… secret government base.”

“Fowler… no.”

“Go on.”

Shots being fired were audible from beyond the door across the room. And unless Decepticons practiced their aim in the empty hallways Y/n briefly saw, that means the opposition was aboard. 

That means the Autobots had come to save them. 

“You were saying?” Having also heard the commotion outside, Starscream becomes more antsy, and it shows.

“In the old steel mill… or was it under that carnival funhouse?”

Finally fed up with the disrespect and sass, Starscream frustratedly yells and stabs the prod back into Y/n, the intensity of the voltage much higher than it had been earlier. The shots were louder now, being heard even over Y/n’s screeches. If Fowler wasn’t halfway into unconsciousness, he would have tried to distract the mech as much as he could, but he couldn’t think past staying awake and alive. 

“I’ve had enough of this.” Starscream begins unraveling Y/n from her chains, not trusting the others to keep the Autobots at bay, let alone defeating them. He may not leave this moment the victor, but like hell is he going to lose both hostages. Y/n doesn’t have the strength to fight back after all that had been done, barely even registering that not only is she free from her chains, but she’s also haphazardly being shoved into a cockpit and losing consciousness for the second time that day.

The door to the room opens a moment later, a silent Vehicon just stands in the entryway.

“Well?” He asks, patience draining with every passing second, quickly turning to shock when the Vehicon’s frame drops and both Bulkhead and Bumblebee are poised for blasting whatever stands in the room, immediately shooting the other Vehicon with Starscream. Aiming his arm towards Fowler, Starscream glowers at the interrupting bots, “Not so fast-”

“I wouldn’t.” Arcee taps him from above, having snuck her way in through the ventilation shaft. 

“Oh, but I might.” 

“Where’s Y/n?” Bulkhead keeps his blaster aimed towards Starscream, but with a brief glance around it’s easy to see there is no other organic life, other than Fowler- only chains that now hang empty.

“The other human? She said she didn’t know you, so we… parted ways.”

“NO!” Bulkhead shouts and immediately begins shooting, prompting the other to take fire as well. Starscream can only jump from side to side in order to avoid their gunfire. 

“Apologies, Autobots, but I’m sure you can find her body down below somewhere.” He cackles as he transforms into his alt-mode, and races out of the room, knocking Arcee from the vent and Bulk and Bee into the ground. 

* * * * * *

Y/n wakes up in another dark space- only this time it’s much smaller and warmer; there’s a sway to the room, if you can call it that, but she isn’t sure if the sway is from the nausea overcoming her or if wherever she is is actually moving. The last thing she remembers is a final shock to her body before passing out. Eyes adjusting to the light, it’s easy to determine the surrounding space is the inside of some kind of jet, but instead of the cockpit being parallel to the ground, it’s upturned, like the aircraft would be facing the sky. She was in a Cybertronian- likely Starscream, if the color scheme is anything to go by.

Pressing her hands to the ground, Y/n is quickly reminded of the fact that Starscream had ripped her right arm out of its socket. Looking down, she notices her clothes are burnt and ripped beyond repair- her blouse now adorned with asymmetrical, distressed sleeves that barely go past her elbows and the skirt being a shredded mess, likely from rough handling of Starscream’s razor sharp talons; Taking her foot and stepping on the pathetic scraps of fabric of her skirt, Y/n uses her functional hand and rips a handful of the fabric strips away. Y/n balls the cloths up and puts it in between her teeth as a makeshift mouth guard. The limb now felt numb, but she knows that popping it back in is going to burn; her left hand grasps the right arm’s bicep.

Deep breaths. Deep Breaths, Y/n.

And with an upwards jerk, she feels a brief click in her shoulder, but the limb doesn’t doesn’t stay in place, forcing a deep inhale through her gag.

Relax. You’re not going to be able to reset it if you don’t fucking relax. You just survive until Optimus gets you.

After another few deep breaths, Y/n tries it again and feels a more solid click as she screams, muffled by the burnt fabric in her mouth; letting go, her arm stays in place, though a reignited burn returns to the site of the wound. With her arm taken care of, getting out of this wretched place is next on the to do list. Banging a hand on the glass enclosing her in this dreadful mech’s cockpit, the needles in her throat become even more pronounced as she groans, ”Let me out.”

Nothing changes. His steps are still steady.

“Let me out!”

Again, nothing.

“STAR-”

“STARSCREAM, YOU INCOMPETENT FOOL! I ORDERED YOU TO AWAIT MY COMMAND!”

Upon hearing such a loud fury, Y/n immediately seeks out the most stable part of Starscream’s cockpit and hunkers down. If she has learned anything, it’s that these Decepticons generally deal with disputes through violence, and she doesn’t believe that stops within their own ranks.

“Please, Lord Megatron, I meant no- AGH!” and just like that, Starscream, and Y/n transitively, fly across the room at Megatron’s hand. And though Y/n can’t see him, it did not sound like it took much physical exertion for him to do so. 

“Instead, your mindless agenda resulted in the disabling of my ship and the delay of MY PLANS!” Megatron raises his hand again, more than ready to strike Starscream again.

“My intentions were pure, master. I only wanted you to be rid of Optimus.” Y/n’s world tilts as Megatron brings his foot against Starscream’s head, smashing it into the ground and allowing sparks to fly; she grunts at being thrown from her “safe space” and rolls onto the glass under her that begins cracking under the pressure of Megatron’s foot. She hates crying, but after the third time death threatens to barrel down your door, the stress begins to cap off, and so the weeping begins.

“NO ONE RIDS ME OF OPTIMUS PRIME BUT ME! DO YOU UNDERSTAND? DO-” The sound of Y/n’s wailing, though faint to Megatron’s audials, catches his attention. Lifting Starscream above himself by his throat and turning him enough to get a glimpse into his cockpit, making perfect eye contact with Y/n. Slowly turning Starscream back to face him, Megatron tightens his grasp around his throat and hisses, “Starscream… explain yourself.”

“My lord, She is a friend of the Autobots! I took her as a hostage so we can extract information!” His voice comes out staticy, a sign Megatron may be doing more damage than he should as he continues constricting his grip. 

“You are as stupid as you are a disgrace to the Decepticons. Bring the human out.” Megatron growls his command and releases his throat, sending his second-in-command scrambling to retrieve Y/n, who in turn dodges each grab at her body, thanking the fates for making his cockpit on his back while bi-pedal.

“Stop moving, you-”

“Keep the fuck away from me! I already told you, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, you walking scrapyard, and me speaking to your troglodyte of a boss isn’t going to change that!” Unfortunately, there’s only so many places for Y/n to run to, and her Yakety sax impression comes to a close when he manages to snag a part of her skirt. Bringing her out on the palm of his hand whilst using his thumb to press her to lie flat on her stomach, he presents her to his master while scowling down at her.

“Why you insolent little-”

“You are wasting my time, Starscream! Is she telling the truth- have you really learned nothing from your own hostage?! Not only have you wasted our resources with your stunt, but you have given the Autobots a reason to storm this ship!”

“No, my liege! They won’t come here to find her- they believe her to be dead.” Starscream allows a shaky smile to creep its way onto his lips, hoping to at least somewhat appease the brute in front of him. Processing what he’s just said, Y/n stops trying to move her way from under the mech’s thumb.

They think I’m dead.

“And what does that leave us with? A soft, useless human who can’t even escape the confines of your servos, let alone provide any kind of productivity for our cause.

No one is coming to save me.

The image of Megatron’s face moving to be right in front of her entire body snaps Y/n out of her spiraling thoughts of lost hope, the heat and humidity coming from his mouth breezes against her, forcing goosebumps to crawl along her arms. The mechanical giant looks her person up and down, then scoffs,

“Worthless scrap.”

The woman bristles as he begins to make his way towards one of the room’s doors. Having noticed Starscream loosening his hold on her back, Y/n stands and snarls at the back of Megatron, “I’m sure you know all about being worthless, wouldn’t you.”

His heavy foot slams to the floor midstep, once relaxed stature stiffened as he slowly turns back towards Y/n and Starscream, in which the latter panickedly looks between the girl in his hand and the mech who has killed other Cybertronians for less. Megatron turns his attention to another mech Y/n had not previously noticed who is practically hidden in the lack of light on this ship- of whom looks back to Megatron. The two stare at one another, as if speaking with each other telepathically.

“Starscream, take that… thing to Knockout for examination.”

Taglist: @the-unhinged-raccoon @hystericalanarchy @mythicallystupid @darkfangx399 @nixblizzard16 @crowleysthings @delectableworm

Let me know if you would like to be added to the list!

#a pair made in the pits #APMiTP #APMTP #transformers #fanfic writing #x reader #maccadam #megatron x reader #tfp megatron x reader #soulmate au #fem reader #tw: torture #torture #tw: cursing #cursing

[a-simply-simping-simp]

Guess who's still crying about Beast? Me! I watched the movie and read the beggining and end of the light novel because I got lazy. Not expecting the end in the movie though. Spoiler drawing ahead and comments btw

Made me so sad. I was going to rant in another post, but I might as well do it here.

So, number one, the sugar cube scene was so adorable I literally cried. I mean it. Like I LITERALLY sobbed.

Number 2, Oda WHYYYYYYYY?! I'M LITERALLY CRYING WHILE TYPING WRITE NOW THINKING ABOUT IT. YOU ARE FRIENDS, YOU ARE, PLEASEEEE. DAZAI'S FACE WHEN HE PULLED THE GUN OUT IN THE BAR AND TOLD HIM NOT TO CALL HIM ODASAKU WAS LIKE A SLAP TO THE FACE.

Number 3, When at the end of the movie, Fyoder was being a little rat and messed everything up, I wanted to vomit out of an array of emotions. I was confused, sad, angry, and just so dang overwhelmed. Like I was ugly crying five seconds ago cuz of Dazai and then this SEWER RAT came and made me confused. I'll get into him in anothe post.

Number 4, In the movie, when Dazai stabbed his leg to show Chuuya his commitment and how much he deserves his trust didn't make sense when I saw it, however, after I recently read the book and watched the play Julius Ceaser, I was like OOOOOOOOH. Dazai immitating Portia and Chuuya Brutus made me just sooo....wow.

Number 5, When it turned out that MORI was the new director I just- absolutley NOT. Do NOT put a pedophile in his perfect Utopia, Dazai WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! Also, I thought he killed him the whole time. Just think about it. A pedophile in an orphanage. You know how if you're being sexually assulted or something, you're supposed to tell a trusted adult like a parentor a teacher? THESE KIDS HAVE NO PARENTS.

Number 6, Chuuya being locked up in that poor governemnt facility broke my heart. Just think about how many people are going to die? Like there is no way Chuuya Nakahara is going to succumb to a bunch of itsy bitsy chains. He' breaking out and killing everyone in there and then the agency. Convince me otherwise.

Number 7, I can't. I'll make an entirely seperate post for Chuuya too, but can we just talk for a second? He went crazy because Dazai committed suicide. He went on a whole rampage and it took 3 special ability resistance units to take him down. This is what happens when there is no Dazai when he uses corruption. But the REASON he went into corruption was just...wow. I always knew they had a complicated relationship but at the same time it was just so simple. Like, they hate eachother, but they also don't. They don't like eachother, but it's not like they don't either. It's not like they complete one another, but it's like one soul in two bodies. They're so simply complicated that if you asked me what their relation was, I'd just say, they're complications. Because in reality, their relationship is just so unexplainable. You need to see it to understand it. There are lovers, enemys, frenemies, friends, siblings, etc, but they fit into literally no category but they aren't strangers either. This is getting too long, so I'll make a different post about that.

Number 8, Chuuya pleaseeee don'ttttt. There is no need to attack the agency, my guy. He wants to avenge Dazai's death, but what is there to avenge? Dazai did suicide. He wasn't killed. Chuuya was so upset that he wanted to kill all the agency. I just....can't. It's kind of sad. This is also going to be really long if I go on, so I'll make another post about this topic.

Number 9, the way Chuuya just really couldn't understand made me wanna bang my head on the wall in tears. He truly couldn't think of why Dazai did it. He was kind of alright one second and then dead the next. The entire time, you can tell how little Chuuya was incorporated into the script he wrote. The ending for each one was different as the movie had him go insane and be put under governemnt care, while the light novel just left him to do his own thing. However, in both you can see that neither of them ever knew what was going on. Dazai never gave him a reason to why he killed himself. Everyone else seems to be going on like nothing happened or at least as if they know what happened and came to terms with it, but then he knows nothing. He was his bodyguard and right hand man and yet NOTHING. I'll get back to this in another post lol. TvT

So yeah. I cried a lot.

#bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bsd beast #beast dazai #beast chuuya

[pangur-and-grim]

Pangur stopped eating due to horrible, horrible stress of occasionally hearing a baby animal mew, so I have found a spot outside the kitten radius to feed her

#pangur #she is so angry that a baby exists #it’s alright though! this is entirely expected #she will burn through all her hatred during the two weeks of kitten quarantine #and by the time he’s allowed out she will be ready to say hello

[topaztimes]

Hi this is a vent post! Continue scrolling if you'd rather not see that

#Giving time... #Still more time... #Wouldn't want to plague any previews #Maybe another filler. Just for some fun #Is this enough? #It certainly is now #Alright start: #I'm so bored. I am so incredibly; intrinsically; entirely bored. I have been taught the same thing for four years straight #'It's only four years!' that's literally a quarter of my lifetime right there. My formative years are being spent stressed and in a state / #/of constant self-loathing #I was watching a YT video and the phrase 'attention-starved STEM major' came up and I was like. Yea #What am I even working towards? The hope that my version of capitalist hell isn't as bad as everyone else's? I'm just so sick of not / #/having a stable future what with politics and normal working people becoming more and more oppressed #I don't want to work and that's not because I'm lazy. It's because my brain is recognising that there is no reward anymore #I used to have such a little spark in Yr7. I remember having things to say and wanting to share everything I've done #I still do that now; sure I do. I don't enjoy it though #I thought I liked drawing but I'm realising that all I really like is the attention. I COULD draw things I like drawing... but then I / #/ don't get attention which my mind then classifies as zero reward #I'm very tired of doing things for no credit; reward; or validation. This is becoming a theme #Then I wonder what I'm doing wrong. What part of the algorithm am I not hitting. Then I realise that I'm just not marketable in a way #God. I'm seriously breaking rn. It's not even only because of GCSEs #It's just a culmination of doing all these things to be told that I am unworthy of Having as a result. It doesn't matter if I'm smart; my / #/ parents still don't own their house and can't afford to pay for heating most days #Literally what am I doing this for #And then I realise that all of this is ALSO attention-seeking behaviour! I'm my own worst problem; I recognise exactly what's wrong with / #/ myself but the body wants what it wants. And what it wants is validation that I'm not going to get in this life #Hi guys! Maybe don't interact. That could fix me #Wean me off of needing virtual numbers just to feel something. Jesus #I can't even be happy with the things that I make for myself. Because I make nothing for myself anymore #It's just a whole sad existence of an expected 12hr+ of school every day until I get a job I guess. Then it's 12hr+ of job every day until

[nymphilily]

Something dangerous is going to happen soon

#We have to wait a week to see what's going on #Alright what are your theories? #I'm hoping for a sequel game Ensemble Stars!! style #I am expecting a sequel of some kind though #This is an entirely new account btw #It's not a rebranding of the main IDOLiSH7 Twitter account #IDOLiSH7

[neverendingford]

.

#color says shit #this is about the twitterpocalypse and tumblr getting weird about it #do y'all realize that these communities have existed on tumblr already. it's not all superwholock and quirky tumblr U #Christians exist on tumblr. Maga-heads exist on tumblr. alt-right exist on tumblr. #it's just that there's no algorithm pushing it in front of you. #without that unifying algorithm tumblr remains disparate social circles that are very clear and easy to map out #which is what I love about it. you can see the web of social dynamics so clearly because there's no hand of god pushing anyone forward #but to condescend and try to get Twitter users to go through Tumblr U orientation so they know about your ten year old memes is blind #unless you're following tags. you won't see any of the new people until people you follow reblog that shit. #entire groups and cultures can live and die next door and you won't notice shit because their posts simply do not circulate to you #anyway not that any of you care. and that's alright. maybe I just need to curate my feed so I stop seeing people be dumb about it #our glorious hellsite. their hideous tweetbook. you know the drill #saw someone try and throw in that classic opinion that reddit is the worst. like 'at least it's not redditors immigrating' like bruh stfu #internet xenophobia is fucking hilarious but I'm kinda tired of laughing #tumblr isn't the only goddamned place that has inside jokes #it's just tumblr nationalism #this feels like one of those posts that I could make actual text and then use the appropriate tags to get some traction but idgaf #I don't need a bunch of people agreeing with me. I just want to complain #I would absolutely love to hear opinions though. other people's experiences are cool as shit #that 'not that any of you care' wasn't meant to be passive aggressive it was a 'I don't expect you to feel strongly about this'

[phantaloon]

cw death of a family member

#am i allowed to feel angry at my friend or am i being unreasonable? #like when my great grandpa died back in august i wasn't really expecting any of my friends to come to the wake or funeral #except for the one who's supposed to be my best friend #and like she was with me one night during the three day wake #and that was about it #we did mass services in my grandpa's name bc he was religious and it's what he would have wanted #it's called a novenario basically 9 mass services #my friend didn't come to any of them #and like alright #it's not the first and certainly won't be the last she's not there for me #even though I try to always be there for her #and now she's telling me one of her friend's grandma just passed #and she's running to the wake rn #and i have no doubt that she'll be there for her friend the entire weekend #and damn it hurts ahdjfj #like if there was someone i wanted there for me during that loss it was her #but she wasn't there #and i was like alright she's busy #but she can make time for other friends #and it's like.... idk how to feel rn

[callmemickey]

Simon Riley fucks intensely and passionately. He doesn’t grab your hair, or spit on your face, or cause you physical pain - my man’s has openly admitted to dealing with violent thoughts/dreams against women and wanting to be better. He might get rough if he’s stressed or angry, but he won’t be, like, throat fucking you for example. Sorry. I just can’t see it. He can be fast, but I don’t think he’s gonna be hardcore or degrading. I think if he gets the mask on, he miiiight be a little more… forthcoming.

Simon Riley finds sex to be the highest level of trust, love, and vulnerability. Don’t expect him to be a quick or easy lay. If he wants you intimately, this is the biggest honor you would ever receive from him. Maybe before he was tortured he would’ve been quicker to engage, but the Simon we know now? Yeah, you gotta work.

Simon Riley… ohhhhh he’s always asking you: “is that alright, love?” “that feel good?” “ahhhh, yeah, you’re a good girl, aren’tcha?” If you’re not feeling it, he’s not feeling it. he wants to make sure you’re into it 100%. the moment you grunt, wince, or groan in pain, he’s stopping to check up on his lovie. he just radiates Soft Dom energy to me (and I want him so bad). Simon loves to see you get all flustered, too. When you beg for him (and you’re a good girl) he will give you anything and everything you want.

Simon Riley being a Soft Dom… mmm, delicious. I love to imagine him praising and worshipping: “ahh fuck, i’ve missed my girl’s pussy” “so proud of you, taking my cock so well” “you want to be a good girl for me, don’tcha?” “you’re so beautiful when you struggle to fit me” if you’re engaged with him romantically, you’re his everything - man’s invested his entire soul and well-being into you. With that being said, throw him some praise, too! He’ll melt and become putty in your hands; he’ll do anything for you. Tell him how you were made for his cock, that nobody else makes you feel like he does, how you’re sooo good - but only for him. He’s definitely possessive of you - not in a red flag kind of way, but when you talk about how you’re his and only his… whew.

Simon Riley wants to see your face when you two are having sex. Anything missionary, missionary adjacent, cowgirl, it doesn’t matter, just let this man look at you! He doesn’t crave it, he needs it. Eye contact is so intimate, and if you’re shy and can’t maintain it? Ohhh, he’s gonna have fun. “eyes here, love” “don’t cover your face/close your eyes - i want to watch you cum” “you were just begging for my cock, don’t get all shy now” “be a good girl and look at me” he’s either coming inside or on your tummy/chest. preferably? inside.

Simon Riley prefers having a good session as opposed to a quickie. He likes doing things in the privacy of your shared home (because then you can be loud and cry his name as you cum on his cock for the 4th time 🤭). Sometimes, he’ll be desperate though, and this is when he gets a lil impatient. Like this one time, he went with you to your family’s Christmas party while being on leave for only a week, and he needed you. That man took you in the bathroom and railed you so hard you couldn’t leave for 15 minutes until you could stand without shaking (also not me writing this rn).

Simon Riley, upon specific request, will wear the mask in bed. Honestly, don’t expect this for a while, however. The mask serves as his identity - his separation from you. This will take a lot of courage on his behalf as you’re wanting to bring in something containing his countless sins and crimes into such an intimate situation. Like I said!!! It takes a while to get him this comfortable. Try to rush the process and you’re missing out on some pretty intense and animalistic fucking. It’s a rare time you can expect a more vicious kind of dirty talk from him: “fuckin’ hell, you like being a dirty little slut, huh?” “that pretty little face of yours deserves to be fucked” “your pussy was made for me” “shut up and keep taking it like a good girl should” “ahh, begging for my cock like the needy little slut you are”

Simon Riley loves aftercare, and he makes sure you feel loved during that time. Sweet Angel, we don’t deserve him. Massages, baths, checking on you emotionally and mentally, he’ll make you dinner, put on your favorite movie, and relax with you while he showers you with unconditional love and adoration. He’s obsessed with you. Get over it.

#simon riley x you #Simon Riley #cod mw2 #Simon ghost Riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #ghost x you #headcanon #ghost headcanons #simon riley headcanons

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Puppy Love.

Pairing: Yandere!Yuuji x Reader x Yandere!Yuuta

Word Count: 2.6k.

TW: Hybrid AU, Puppy!Yuuta, Puppy!Yuuji, Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Somnophilia, Biting, Oral Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, and Obsessive Behavior.

You heard Yuuji, first.

 He’d always been the louder of the pair, not that it was a very steep competition. You hadn’t had him for very long, but—well, it was less that he came out of his shell quickly and more that he’d never had a shell at all. It only taken a day or so for him to get used to the idea of living with you and Yuuta full-time, a week for him to start acting like he’d always been a part of your little family, and another month before he started pawing at your bedroom door at night and whining when you reminded him that you preferred to sleep alone (meaning: without multiple two-hundred pound hybrids draped across you). He was energetic, overly friendly, even if you wouldn’t go so far as to call him disobedient or difficult. You figured having a more, for lack of better phrasing, dog-like hybrid in the house would be good for Yuuta, bring out his more instinctive side. In reality, the added stress of an overly hyper roommate had only worked to make him just a little more anxious than he already was, but you still thought it was good for him. If nothing else, Yuuji gave Yuuta something to focus on that wasn’t you, and Yuuta could use more distractions.

But Yuuji, though—He was what you should’ve been focusing on, at the moment. Through the haze of exhaustion, you could hear the door creaking open, the muffled sound of padded feet on carpeting and the tiny, almost inaudible vocalizations Yuuji never seemed to realize anyone else could hear. Soon enough, you felt the foot of the mattress dip as he clambered onto your bed. Any other night, you would’ve forced yourself to sit up and tell him to leave, would’ve called on the dozens of books and hundreds of blogposts you’d read about hybrid obedience training and found the strength to ‘reinforce boundaries despite personal feelings’, but you were tired beyond the point of discipline, and Yuuji didn’t mean any harm. One night of letting him curl up next to you wouldn’t hurt, even if you did make a mental note to show Yuuta some extra affection in the morning – just to keep the scales balanced. For all their many differences, they were both prone to crying favoritism.

You never stirred, but you settled deeper into place, curling into yourself as Yuuji remained at your feet. You might’ve fallen asleep entirely, if Yuuji hadn’t spoken.

His voice was quiet, low, audibly trepidatious. It reminded you of Yuuta’s nervous, stuttering inclination, although not quite as unsteady. “Are you sure it’s alright to…?”

“I am.” You weren’t sure who you expected to answer, but the sound of Yuuta’s voice almost startled you awake. It was normal for Yuuji to bend the rules. Yuuta was supposed to know better. “She’s asleep, right? Just don’t wake her up.”

Yuuji didn’t respond, but you felt the sheets draped over your shift, a warm hand curl around your calf. For as little reassurance as Yuuta had provided, it seemed to be enough for Yuuji.

It was half curiosity and half fatigue that kept you quiet as Yuuji moved around you. Whatever they might’ve been up to, nothing could’ve seemed worse than having to wake up and sacrifice much-needed sleep for the sake of scolding your (usually angelic) pets. At worst, you’d wait until you could catch them in the act or, better yet, grit your teeth and bare it until they left. Anything not to have to deal with this for another eight hours.

You rolled onto your side, twisting your leg out of Yuuji’s hand and letting out a soft groan as you curled into yourself. It wasn’t a subtle position, let alone an inviting one, but Yuuji only whimpered, only edged closer to you. This time, when he touched you, it was to take up your shoulder – his hold gentle and breathing heavy as he nudged you onto your back. Whatever he was doing, he seemed determined to see it through. It might’ve been more admirable, if you hadn’t been so confused.

You felt your sheets pull away from you next, then another hand on your ankle, Yuuji’s rough claws pressing lightly into your skin as his loose grip flexed. You felt him draw your legs apart, and with the corner of your mouth already quirking downward, you started to open your eyes, to sit up and—

Suddenly, you felt something wet and warm press into your cunt, and you stopped moving entirely.

Whatever lingering exhaustion you might’ve felt was swiftly replaced with cold, pointed terror. This time, you forced yourself to hold still, it wasn’t out of confusion or curiosity, but an abrupt and paralyzing fear.

It wasn’t a feeling Yuuji seemed to share. His tongue was already moving across the length of your slit, his drool already soaking into the silk of your panties. He was making those noises, again; deep and throaty, closer to the sounds a prowling animal would make than anything remotely similar to human speech. Both of his hands found their way to your ass, claws biting into the plush flesh as he buried his face in your pussy. He was just as rough with his mouth – his pointed canines ghosting over the inside of your thighs and catching on the material of your panties, his broad togue laving over your covered entrance as if he could taste you through the fabric. It was only when he bowed his head, when the bridge of his flat nose ground against your clit that you started to wonder if he actually could, but forced yourself not to linger on the idea for very long. Thinking about what he was doing, assigning a motive to his actions – that would only make this worse. Thinking at all would only make this worse.

You bit down on the side of your tongue with as much force as you could afford to use, willing yourself to hold still, to not react – a wounded animal, playing dead as to not attract the attention of a predator. You felt Yuuji’s hands shift, calloused fingertips pressing into your thighs, then—

“Stop.”

Yuuta. Wonderful, miraculous, well-behaved Yuuta. You would’ve sighed, if you weren’t holding yourself so stiff. You could hear him moving closer, too – his footsteps feather-light compared to Yuuji’s. You braced yourself to break up a fight (there’d been a few when Yuuji first came home with you, when you first realized that Yuuta had never learned to share), but rather than barking, growling, any of the sounds that came with two animals trying to tear each other apart, there was only rustling fabric, another shift in gravity as Yuuta positioned himself by your side. “Y-you’re doing it wrong,” he stammered, and something deep inside of you seemed to curl up and die. “You have to take her clothes off first. Otherwise, she won’t feel anything.”

It was almost strange, hearing him take charge. In any other context, you might’ve been proud.

Yuuji whined, but obliged. His nails scraped against your hips as he balled his fist around the fabric and tore, making no effort to spare the delicate fabric. The remaining scraps were discarded with just as little care, and before you could fully wrap your mind around what was happening, he was back to lapping at your cunt. With the only barrier between you gone, it felt less like he was trying to eat you out and more like he was trying to eat you alive – his tongue too thick and too long, his hands too big and too prone to groping at whatever was underneath him, the boundless energy you were so used to finding either infinitely adorable or impossibly exasperating sudden not quite as harmless than you’d always considered it to be.

The next time he found your clit, you couldn’t stifle your reactions – little, half-choked whimpers and moans escaping despite your pursed lips. Your hips twitched, and for the first time, you felt Yuuji draw back willingly. He was such a sweet dog. Even with your eyes clenched shut, you could picture him tilting his head to the side, his ears flopping in the same direction and his big, dark eyes going full puppy-dog. Usually, you’d melt at the sight, give him whatever he was asking for and comfort him the best you could, but you didn’t have much comfort to spare, and Yuuta was already answering on your behalf.

“That means she likes it,” he explained, his voice a little quieter, a little more airy than it’d been before. “Keep going, she’ll make more.”

There was a short lapse, passed in silence. For a second, you let yourself believe he’d come to his senses, that he might stop, but it was only for a second. His response was enough to dash any remaining hope you might’ve had. “…will she get louder?”

“Mhm.” And then, with the slightest note of pride, “She does for me, at least.”

And just like that, Yuuji’s head dipped, his mouth latching onto your pussy with a renewed concentration. You willed yourself not to move, not to think, not to do anything that would mean having to open your eyes and acknowledge what was happening, but it was impossible not to feel the heat of his mouth against your cunt, not to let the sounds of saliva and arousal against tongues and skin seep into the back of your mind and tint the pleasure slowly starting to pool at the pit of your stomach with a vicious, sickeningly sweet, nectar-like quality. It wasn’t long before your own pitiful noises were just as difficult to suppress, before your hips were jutting upward involuntarily to meet Yuuji’s mouth, before you could feel a mix of drool and slick and every other ungodly thing pooling on your sheets beneath you. Yuuta shifted beside you, edging close enough for his thigh to press against your arm. “You’re—You’re making a mess, she’ll be mad if—”

His voice cut out abruptly, drowned out by a sudden, bubbling moan from Yuuji. Yuuta tried to catch his attention again to the same result until, finally, there was a low growl. Yuuji yelped has his face was shoved further into the space between your thighs – Yuuta pushing down on the back of his head, as little as you wanted to picture your sweet Yuuta doing something like that – but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his lapping only seemed to get faster, more reckless, more wild. You didn’t want to, no part of you wanted to cum because of your pet’s mouth, but you could feel the pressure mounting, the heat building, the walls of your pussy convulsing around his tongue as you reached your climax.

There was nothing you could do to stop yourself from crying out as you came, any hope you might’ve had of making it through this without letting either Yuuji or Yuuta know how much of it you’d been conscious for immediately abandoned. You tried to make good use of your adrenaline, to shove Yuuji away and run, but he’d always been strong, even for a hybrid, and he didn’t even have to pull away to pin your hips to the mattress and nurse you through your orgasm, his tongue now fucking into you unabashedly. He only stopped when the last of your aftershocks had died out, when it was all you could do to lie limp and mutter all the little ‘no’, ‘stop’, ‘please’s that you’d pictured yourself screaming only seconds ago. Even then, the separation wasn’t made by choice – no, it was Yuuta who finally, finally dragged him off of you. Even through the darkness of your bedroom, you could see his fingers knotted in Yuuji’s untamable hair, his knuckles white and his grip steadfast. By the time he let go, Yuuji’s back was straight and he’d gone surprisingly quiet – his dark eyes glassy and fixed on yours. By the time you could force yourself to look to Yuuta, he wasn’t much better. He was focused on you, too, but he didn’t look quite as dazed, quite as mindless. His lips were parted, but his eyes were narrowed, and he was wearing the expression he’d worn when you first brought Yuuji home, all displaced resentment and palpable betrayal. If you hadn’t known him so well, you might’ve called it anger.

Yuuji broke the silence. He whined sharply, slumping forward and kneading down where his hands were still planted on your hips. You opened your mouth, ready to tell him to get down, to get out, but Yuuta cut in before you had the chance to spit anything out. “Turn her over. It’ll be easier if she’s on her stomach.”

Yuuji didn’t hesitate. You felt his hands on your midriff, and then, you were on your chest, Yuuji’s form hunched over you as he ground something stiff and hot and leaking against your ass. You tried to push yourself up, to get away, but you were barely able to get your knees underneath you before Yuuji’s arms were around your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck and his pointed teeth bared against the side of your throat. He didn’t growl, didn’t bite, but you went still regardless. You didn’t think Yuuji would hurt you, but you never would've thought he would do this, either.

Whatever aggression he might’ve felt faded quickly – as soon as he started rutting against your ass. You could feel him panting against your throat, his breath humid and stifling, and his chest pressing into your back. He was too close. He was too much. When he spoke, it was almost deafening, even if you knew it couldn’t be much more than a mumble. “Hurts so bad,” he muttered, as his cock ground uselessly against your ass, your thighs. “Been hurtin’ so bad since you took me home. I was so happy when Yuuta told me you could help, and—and, that you wouldn’t mind, and—”

His voice cut out abruptly as the blunt head of his cock caught on your entrance and, with a cracked whine, thrust into you. There was no time to adjust, to block out – just a sudden heat inside of you and the immediate, overwhelming fullness of his cock battering the walls of your pussy. “Off,” you half cried, half screamed – your voice a jagged, shaking mess. “Get down, stop, get—”

But Yuuji wasn’t listening. His tongue lapped clumsily at your neck as he fucked into in slow, languid thrusts – his hips slamming into your ass with enough force to bruise. You went limp, sobbing openly into your sheets, but Yuuji was strong enough to hold you up on his own, to not have to care what state you were in underneath him. So caught up in your own misery, you didn’t notice Yuuta moving until he was in front of you, until his hand had worked its way underneath your chin and tilted your head back far enough for your tear-clouded gaze to find his. His expression was that same mix of resentment and pity and bitter, bitter anger. Still, when your eyes met his, the corner of his lips quirked up, some of the harsher lines around his eyes fading into nothing.

“I wouldn’t be this rough with you.” His tone was flat, softened. He ran his thumb over your cheek, leaning down just far enough for his lips to brush against the top of your head. “I would be a good mate. You don’t need anyone else.”

Again, he leaned in, slotting his lips against yours with a feather-light sort of gentleness. At the same time, you heard Yuuji moan, felt his teeth sink into your shoulder, and started to wish you couldn’t feel anything at all.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #hybrid au #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yandere jjk #jututsu kaisen imagines #yandere itadori yuji #yandere yuji #yuji x reader #yuta x reader #yandere yuta #yandere okkotsu yuta

[foxgirltail]

I love you being trans I love you trans women i love you gender exploration I love you self discovery

[link to the Reddit post]

[ID: two screenshots of a reddit post on r/offmychest by user awaythrowjessie, titled "My girlfriend made me realize I'd be happier as a woman". it reads as follows:

I am 33, born male, and have had major self image issues my entire life. I hated seeing myself in mirrors, pictures, you name it. I honestly thought it was kinda normal so I just accepted it.

Now about 3 weeks ago I was at my girlfriends house, we have been dating a little over a year now, and have plans to move in together soon. Now recently she has shaved her head to support of her friends with cancer (side note thenl treatments for that friend are going very well). She had since bought some wigs to wear while her hair grows back out. We were joking around as I have male pattern baldness, and when she went to the bathroom I jokingly threw a wig on and waited. She came our, saw me we laughed for a bit and she said "you know I think you'd make a pretty girl" we laughed some more but those words triggered something in me.

Cut to a few night's ago she asked why I've been acting weird lately and I just told her how i was feeling. She said "alright let's do this " and when I asked what she told me she was going to give me a bit of a makeover and put me in one of her dresses and if i liked it then good. I was nervous and asked what if I did like it would she still be attracted to me. She just responded with "Baby you know I'm bi, guy or girl you're still mine." Her words reassured me honestly i love her so much.

Anyways she finished the make up, fitted a wig on me perfectly and got me in a dress and even helped me put a bra on and stuff in a little so i could see what breasts would kinda look like on me. Now I expected to see myself in the mirror, laugh this off and move on right, but I didn't. She did an unbelievable job, like I looked like I had been born a woman, and when I saw myself in the mirror for the first time in my entire life, I liked what I saw. I probably stared at myself for a good 10 minutes before she finally asked me something. She asked what I wanted to be called. After a few seconds I said Jessie, I always like the name Jessie. She whispered in my ear "well Jessie, you look beautiful." And that was it, I knew this was who i wanted to be.

I'm nervous now though, my friends will accept it but my family are, well let's just say not very progressive. But this is what I want.

end ID]

#making my own fucking post with an edited caption because yeah

[msgexymunson]

Soft Touches

Description: you and your dealer Eddie get a little closer than anticipated.

Warnings: acquaintances to lovers, reader is AFAB, weed smoking (both parties so no real dub con), fem oral receiving, praise kink, p in v unprotected sex.

A/N: It's my birthday! And I'm high, and horny, so happy birthday! If you've read my work you KNOW I'm a sucker for the first time y/n fucks Eddie. When I'm a benevolent dictator it shall be a universal holiday ;)

4k words

Masterlist

“Eddie, what the hell was in that?” 

Floating in a cloud of your high, the entire room seemed to glow in pink and orange, senses tinged in a sunset glow. You were definitely stoned out of your tree if you were comparing Eddie's stuffy, cramped room to a breath-taking sunset. 

“It's a new strain I got from Rick. You feeling it?” 

“Oh, I'm feeling it alright. I can hear colours.” 

Eddie's rich laugh echoed off the walls of his trailer. He laid on the bed casually, one arm slung beneath his head making his tight t-shirt ride up slightly. Just a peek of his happy trail was on display, which you tried, and failed, not to stare at. 

It was proving difficult, especially since you sat criss-cross apple sauce on his floor. His body was eye level, handcuff belt shining softly in the low light. The glint of that drew your eyes even lower, concentrating on the bulge you could see in his jeans.

You thought you were being sneaky. You absolutely were not. 

“Hey, sweetheart, you gonna answer me or just stare at my dick?” 

“Huh?” 

Shaking your head as if to clear it, you finally met his gaze. 

“I said, you can come lay up here if you want.” 

Halfway between getting up and still in a weird little crouch his words finally filtered through your addled brain. 

“I wasn't staring at your dick!” 

“Whatever you say, baby girl.” 

Frozen, mind empty of comebacks, you clambered out of your goblin stance and stood up, when the blood decided to rush to your head. 

“Oh Holy shit.” 

Your knees buckled, and you would have ended up face first on Eddie's carpet if he hadn't caught you. 

“Easy there, I've got you.” 

Eddie's firm hands held your upper arms tightly as he manoeuvred you to sit on his bed. The room was spinning, everything was drifting out of focus. 

“I need to lie down.” 

Eddie pulled you towards his pillows and laid you down gently, picking your legs up and settling them on the bed with you. Staring up at his off white ceiling, things began to drift back in. Once the room finally stopped swooping around in your vision, you started to come to your senses. 

You are on Eddie Munson's bed. You knew him, sure, only in a ‘can I come round so you can smoke us out and listen to music’ kind of way. You'd hardly call him a friend. This though, feeling the heat of his body next to you, him leaning on his side staring at you worriedly seemed entirely outside of your current arrangement. 

Suddenly the air was stifling, Eddie's warmth only exacerbating the matter. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah, just really warm. And fucking high.” 

Eddie laughed, relieved.

“Thank fuck, I was scared for a minute.” 

You fumbled at the hem of your oversized sweater, attempting to wriggle it up your body but all motor skills were beyond you right now. 

“Eddie.” You pouted at him, flapping the edge of your sweater with frustrated hands. 

“You want this off?” 

“Please.” 

He flashed you a mischievous grin and pulled up upright, beginning to draw the offensive sweater up and over your form. 

“Didn't think you'd be begging me to undress you sweetheart.” 

Rolling your eyes in response, you held your arms over your head like a petulant toddler. Sweater removed and tossed to the foot of the bed, you risked a glance at Eddie. He was entirely preoccupied, staring at your bare midriff that was now on display. 

“It's a crop top Eddie, get over it.” 

Flinging yourself back down on the pillow, Eddie coughed, looking a little flustered, and settled in next to you. 

“Sorry, I didn't expect it. You always wear baggy shit.” 

“Comfortable shit, thank you. I come here to smoke, it's not New York fashion week.”

Eddie ran a finger across you, just below your belly button. The barely there touch blazed across your skin. 

“I didn't know you had your belly button pierced.” 

Looking down, you watch as his fingers circle it, then flick the little jewel dangling off the end. Thighs clamping together out of sheer necessity, you attempt to ignore it. 

“Yeah, got it done when I was like 15, two towns over. Probably my least painful piercing. Apart from ears, of course.”

Apparently, Rick's new strain also makes you run your mouth, as well as being insanely warm and horny. It seemed you had captured Eddie's attention. He turned further towards you, one hand holding his head up. The other, much to your relief, stayed on your stomach. You're not sure he was even aware he was still stroking your skin. 

“Least painful? What other piercings do you have?” 

You seriously considered dodging the question, but it's difficult to be devious directly to those big wet eyes of his. It's like trying to lie to a baby cow. 

“Well, I got my nose done, but the piercing fell out and I didn't bother to get a new one. That one stung. But the worst had to be my… my nipples.” 

The whole bed lurched as Eddie jumped up and sat cross legged facing you. He practically flew into action, grabbing his cigarettes and a lighter as if you were about to tell him some epic tale. 

“Right, tell me everything.” 

Whilst laughing at his wide eyed expression, you realise he's being completely serious. 

“Well, they er, they like, sanitise the… area, draw a dot where they're going to pierce you and tell you to take a deep breath in and it's done. It's super quick actually. It's more the after part that hurts. Why are you interested?” 

Eddie pushes his hair behind one ear, the tip of it is glowing scarlet, you notice. 

“I was thinking about getting it done my last birthday but I didn't have the cash.” 

He's staring at you, nervously chewing on a hang nail. You can practically see the unasked question dancing on his tongue. You weren't going to offer, hell no. If he wants to see he has to ask. The thing is, the way your tummy is bubbling right now, you don't think you could say no to those eyes of his. 

The question remains unsaid. He merely offers you a drag on his cigarette which you take gratefully, before he's stubbing it out and laying back down next to you. 

“How you feeling now? Bit less baked?” 

“Oh I'm still fucked, but I can see straight and I don't feel sick.” 

His fingers begin their dance again, skating over your exposed flesh, stroking down your side to your hip, across your stomach, and back again. You want to mention it. He's never touched you like this before, but you also don't want him to stop. 

“Good. Not inviting you over again if you hurl on my bed.” 

Giggling, you turn and face him. You're both on your sides now, knees close to knocking. His shirts ridden up again and before you can even register what you're doing you've placed a delicate hand on his hip. His eyes widened briefly, but that's it. Both of you are touching the others bare flesh, whispers of touches. Little, tentative things, like the bursting of soap bubbles on skin. 

“I wouldn't hurl on your bed. I'm sure I'd at least make it to the bathroom. I'm not an animal.” 

Eddie just grins in response, and you look at each other, really look. His dopey smile is the same as yours, and it seems neither of you want to mention how this seems to be rolling into very unfamiliar territory. 

“Eddie?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Why are you touching me?” 

He pushes infinitesimally closer, his knee now slotting between yours. It's a small gesture, but suddenly the situation feels even more intimate than before. 

“Because. Because it feels good. You're soft, and warm. And you keep making little noises.” 

“I do?” 

He smooths his hand higher, thumb dragging along the underside of your breast, and you let out a tiny, quivering whimper.

“See? Like that.” 

Opening your legs slightly wider, Eddie's knee pushes naturally further forward, his thigh now wedged between yours. His breath is fanning your nose; cigarettes, weed, and sweet snacks. 

“So sweetheart, why are you touching me?” 

Your hand presses a little more firmly, snaking underneath the hem of his shirt. With no complaint forthcoming, you reach further up, stroking his side, up over his ribs, and back down again. He responds in kind. Every kiss of fingers is electrifying, filling the room with a soft, dense tension. 

“Because it feels good. Because I saw a bit of skin and I couldn't resist.” 

“Yeah?” He's smirking as he says it, but you're beyond playing games at this point. 

“Yeah.” 

“I didn't know I was irresistible.”

You pinch his skin a little and he stares at you like you just betrayed him. 

“I didn't say that, you're twisting my words.” 

“Pretty sure I heard-” 

Cutting him off with a tickle to the ribs, he grabs your hand to stop you. 

“OK, OK! You were right, I was wrong. Nice touches again please.” 

His hand swiftly makes its way back to your skin and you continue to stroke him. 

“Nice touches?” 

“Yeah, it feels really good.” 

Running your hand up, you graze his nipple, and then bring it back down, down, until you reach the top of his jeans. You graze a finger, just one, under them, sweeping across his tensing abs. Then, you move up to more innocent flesh. 

“Jesus Christ.” 

Eddie's chest is heaving, fingers pressing indents into your flesh. 

“Nice enough?” you're the one smirking this time, pleased at the effect you're having on him. 

“Yeah.” 

It's barely a word, more of a breath. You scoot closer toward him, just a couple of inches, but it's close enough to feel his thigh start to press against your heat. Gasping at the pressure, you rub subtly against his thigh to try and relieve your mounting feelings, no matter how slightly. 

Eddie's hand starts making a trembling journey up your form, fingers twisting underneath your top. Feeling the underside of your bare breast, you both gasp. Eddie undoubtedly because you weren't wearing a bra, you because, well, the obvious. The slightest graze had your nipple hardening instantly, hips rocking forward without your control. 

“Is this OK?” 

“Yeah. Please.” 

Fingers stretching further, Eddie finally brushes your nipple. The feeling is magnified by your piercing; they've felt more sensitive since you got them done.

The moan that escapes is louder than you meant but it couldn't be helped. This simple touch is igniting through your nerves and rushing to your high brain. 

“Shit, they are pierced.” 

It seems to be a thought that Eddie said out loud by accident as he rubs his fingers over your ruddy nipple, slowly circling the silver balls of the jewellery. 

Another moan breaks from you, even louder this time.

“Fuuuuck Eddie.” 

“Yeah?” 

His touches become firmer, rubbing your nipple between thumb and forefinger, mapping the way your face scrunches up with his eyes.

“Yeah, jeez. They're really sensitive.” 

Practically panting in each other's mouths, your noses rub together. 

“Can- can I kiss you?” 

His words are so hesitant that it makes you giggle. Pressing your lips in a swift kiss to his full bottom lip, you respond. 

“I'd be mad if you didn't.” 

Eddie wastes no more time, pressing a hot open mouthed kiss to you that you reciprocate in kind. You keep it slow, leisurely traversing new territory with soft, exploring tongues. Naturally your arms encircle him, pulling him closer, closer. His arm snakes around your back as your bodies press together, like puzzle pieces slotting together and finding their perfect match. Eventually you break away to take a gasping breath as Eddie presses kisses to your collarbone.

“I don't know why we waited so long to do that.” 

“We? I thought you just wanted me for free drugs!” 

You giggled loudly at that, so loud it came out as a snort, but it didn't matter. The moment was so honest that being cool had nothing to do with it. You were bare, in a way, and so was he. 

Eddie chuckled with you as he slowly but surely pushed you onto your back, slipping both of his legs between yours. Pushing your hips up, you feel his hardness graze your pubic bone. 

“Eddie?” 

He hums a response, lips and tongue busy loving on your neck. You tug at the hem of your top and pull upwards. Eddie gets the message, moving out of the way briefly so you can strip it off. 

There you are, bare chested in front of him. You'd be nervous, if you hadn't seen the longing in his eyes. He's kneeling, one arm leaning on the mattress whilst the other compulsively strokes your side. 

“Jesus Christ your tits are perfect.” 

The moment stretches just a little too long for comfort; you're a hair's breadth away from crossing your arms over your chest when Eddie leans down and runs his tongue around and around one nipple. Mewling pathetically, you lace your fingers in Eddie's soft waves and tug. In response his teeth graze you as he sucks softly; then he gives the other just as much attention. 

Shuddering and wriggling under him, you can't do anything but whine, your hips undulating upwards to chase some friction, some release, anything. 

“Eddie, please, I need you.” 

“Umph,” He responds, muffled by your chest, “I need you to say that again.” 

“Eddie I swear to God if you don't- ” 

He laughs, cutting off your sentence. 

“Alright baby girl, I got you.” 

Working his way down your front, he takes his time planting soft kisses, making you writhe at each touch of his lips, until he reaches your shorts. 

Flicking the button open, he slowly drags the zip down and finds the little sliver of red panties poking out. 

“Hearts? Cute.” 

Thick fingers plunge into your clothes and pull them away, flinging your shorts and panties across the room into the void that was Eddie's carpet. 

Insecurity finally gripped its claws into you. What if he didn't like what you looked like down there, smelled like, tasted like? 

A moment of unadulterated panic, and then Eddie licked his tongue, slowly yet firmly, between your lips and all the way up. Barging your thighs further apart with his shoulders, he rooted your clit out with his tongue, running dizzying circles and sucking at it desperately. 

Eddie's moans rivalled your own, such neediness etched in you swear his fingerprints will be left on the outside of your thighs like tattoos, simply from the force he held you with. Barely able to shake, you compensated by pulling his hair and guiding his tongue exactly where you needed it. 

He pushed a thick calloused finger into you slowly, looking up at you as he did so. You back arched off the bed. He felt around, staring at you with such intensity you that you were seconds away from telling him to quit staring when-

“Oh God, oh fuck!” 

Eddie smirked, sliding another finger in gently to join the first, and worked your clit between his lips. He incessantly stroked a spot inside that you'd never reach on your own, a firm, beckoning gesture as if he were willing your orgasm to come hither. 

It was working. Your insides tingle, a tightness pulling straight from your gut and shooting out to your fingers and toes. Beyond control by this point, your hand pulls his hair tightly. To your amazement, his other hand reaches out to you, seeking, and you lace your fingers in his own. 

As soon as your digits touched, you were gone. Your release plummets out of you, shaking through every bone you have, leaving you a twitching puddle of a woman. His fingers chase after it, dragging every inch of squelching pleasure out of your insides until you're tugging him away and begging for it to stop. 

As he moved back up your body, licking and sucking as he did so, you tried to think of an answer to the smug grin he was just about to flash at you. 

There was none. Brain unravelled, threads wound into your nerves instead of your thoughts, you laid there, ruminating on how he'd made you come faster than any other man.

Eddie hovered over you, nose nudging your own. He must have wiped his mouth at some point whilst you were in la la land. 

“Hey pretty girl.”

“Eddie, you're really fuckin’ good at that.”

“I know.”

You laugh, tapping his side.

“Cocky.”

“Confident.”

Before you can retort his mouth is back on you, peppering kisses to your jaw, as his solid member presses into your naked heat.

“Fuck Eddie, please, please please-”

“Please what baby girl?” He asks, then sucks a hickey on your neck. 

Pulling him towards you by his shirt collar, you bite down sharply on his earlobe, pulling a little groan from his chest.

“I want you to stuff me full Eddie. I'm- I'm on birth control. Fill me up.” 

You can practically feel Eddie's eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fuck, you can't just say that, I nearly busted in my pants!” 

Pulling himself off you for the shortest time he could, he peels his t-shirt over his head and flops back on top of you. Desperate kisses and urgent gropes spill from you both; grinding, needy things that tore at clothes and grasped at flesh. 

After fiddling and failing with his belt, you huff and tug harshly at his waistband. He chuckles, biting at your bottom lip as he unlatches it with ease and then wriggles his pants and boxers down his legs with urgency. 

More desperate grasps, teeth and tongues clashing violently, your hand reaching down to clutch at his- 

“Holy hell!” 

His eyes widen, hands coming to a halt, waiting for the rest of your sentence. You're too busy trying to glance down his front as he hovers over you, your fist firmly stroking his hardened cock.

“You're huge Eddie!” 

He smirks and thrusts into your hand, the velvet smoothness of his dick massaged  by your palm. 

“Bet you say that to all the guys.”

“Er, no, Rick's made some truth serum or some shit because that's the biggest I've ever felt.” 

You guide him firmly towards your entrance, dragging the tip of his enlarged cock through your slickened folds. He quivers over you, arms thick with tension. 

“Baby girl just, just slip it inside, please-” 

“Now who's begging?” 

Grinning mischievously, you wait for him to start forming an answer with his mouth when you slip the head inside your sopping opening. His open mouth turns into a long drawn out moan. 

You would tease him if the feeling of him splitting you open wasn't all consuming. Which it fucking is. He just keeps pushing, and pushing, until his chest is flush with yours and he's mumbling platitudes in your ear. 

“Doing so good for me. Such a naughty, naughty girl. Getting filled up by her drug dealer? Baby girls a little dirty, isn't she?”

You're trying not to let him know how much his words affect you, but the fluttering of your satin like walls tells a different story. 

“You're not my dealer.” 

“Oh really? I'm not?” 

Pulling out nearly all the way and pushing back in, you bite your lip at the drag against your insides.

“Dealer implies I buy shit. You just give it to me, like a little simp.”

Eddie's mouth drops open in mock outrage.

“You want me to give it to you now? I'll fucking give it to you baby.” 

Hooking an arm under your thigh, Eddie thrusts into you hard and devastatingly deep. And again, and again, until you start moaning wantonly right in his face, all bravado forgotten.

“Yeah? Atta girl. That good baby? Wanna feel me right here?” 

His other hand pushes against your lower stomach, the pressure deepening the pleasure he's giving you tenfold. 

“Oh Eddie, oh fuckfuckfuck!!” 

Your release explodes out of your cunt with a gush, liquid spurting out of you so hard you nearly force his impressive length out. It waves drastically, like the sea against the shore, washing and washing over you until it's hard to breathe. 

“Baby, baby! Holy shit, I think you squirted.” 

“Ya think? My God, that was… mind blowing.” 

“Yeah?” 

Looking up at him, you expect that arrogant grin, but he just looks pleased and innocent. Like a kid at Christmas. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah.”

Rolling him over with all the power left in your thighs, you pin him down and move firmly into him, ferality taking over your actions. 

“Jesus Christ, you are a dirty girl, aren't you?” 

“Maybe just a little.” 

Smirking, you hump against him, your swollen clit bumping against his pubic bone on each delicious pass. 

“Holy shit, I'm not complaining- fuck, what the- what are you doing? Jesus Christ!” 

You bounce hard on him. Seeing him writhe under you is a special kind of power, one you aren't willing to let go of. Ever.

“Fuck, b-baby girl, you're gonna make me come!” 

His intense moans spur you on further. Unable to bounce so much on shaky knees you snuggle down close to him, arms clutching his shoulders, as you grind into him. It's massaging sensations into your clit, as well as teasing your g spot with his imposing length. 

“I can't, I’m-  baby girl-” 

“I'm gonna come, Eddie please, fill me up, I wanna feel it, I wanna feel your cum inside me, please, fuckin’ breed me Eddie. Oh fuck!” 

Quivering against him uncontrollably, your legs give out, collapsing on his body as he tenses and releases inside of you. It spurs your own orgasm, snaking up your spine and gripping on your system like a fly caught in honey. An open mouthed scream is all you give him, silent but chock full of feeling, as your back arches in its own tension. 

As it curls out of you, your back gives up, and you flop forward, bones turned to pudding. 

“Well.” is all that comes out, a puff of a word, just air escaping from a collapsing chest.

“Well.” Eddie responds, waiting for what you're about to say. 

You're sure he doesn't expect it. A laugh bubbles out; a weird, inside laugh, that you probably should never share with anyone. But it keeps coming. And coming. Laughing uncontrollably, you roll off of him and try to get your stomach muscles in check. 

You'd be worried about his reaction, if he wasn't laughing with you. It was this odd mixture of tension and relief that was bursting in the air, a barrier broken and left crumbling at your feet. 

“Eddie. Fuck, Eddie.” 

“Yeah?”

‘Yeah.”

His heated hand found yours, and squeezed your fingers hard. For some reason, it felt more intimate than all of this combined. 

Giggling again, you lean into his chest, fingers dipping up to weave into his hair. 

“Baby girl, you can't just-” 

“What? Pull your hair? Because you like it?” 

Tugging on his hair dramatically, Eddie tosses his head back and groans. 

“Knew it.”

“Yeah, yeah, certified genius. It's like you don't wanna be railed again.” 

Huffing, you pull yourself on top of him again, hardened nipples brushing softly against his flesh. 

“Oh, I think I'll be the one railing you. You wanna make a bet, for next time?” 

Smug grin forgotten, Eddie stares at you in disbelief.

“Next time?” 

“Well, I hope so. Got to be the best I've ever had.” 

Stupid Rick and his stupid strain. 

“Best you've ever had?” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Only if you wanna.” 

The teasing stopped. At least for now. It was pretty clear, your need for each other was outranking any goading you'd been sharing. 

At least for now… 

Taglist (Some permanents, some likely candidates, if you want to be added, jus say the word sweetheart)

@eddiesprincess86 @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @roanniom @usedtobecooler @josephquinnsfreckles @mrsjellymunson

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things imagines #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fucks #eddie fan fic #eddie smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem!oc #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #switch!eddie

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 5: What I Want

Summary: You begin your training with Ghost, but not everything goes as smoothly as you'd hoped. At least you're learning how to want things, and that it won't kill you if you ask for them.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader, some Ghost x Soap

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, oral sex, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, brief violence, reader has a breakdown

A/N: I know I was supposed to rest, but I couldn't help myself. I just had to get this one done. I was feeling it. We're finally getting into the good stuff here. Things will kind of pick up after this part, so I'm really looking forward for that.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

(Gif pulled from google)

You tug nervously at your sleeve, feeling exactly as you did when you had to sit in the director’s office at The Institute. Only, you never got in trouble there. You had never been summoned because you misbehaved. You made it a point not to get into trouble, avoiding it at all costs. 

You’ve been here just over a week and you’ve already messed up. 

Price is staring at you across his desk, leaning on his elbows as his blue eyes bore into you. You’re not staring at Price, you think. No, you’ve come face to face with The Captain. He’s angry, though you can’t be entirely sure. You’ve never seen him truly angry. You’re waiting on the reprimanding, the punishment, for him to tell you they’re sending you back because you’re too much trouble. 

“I want you to tell me exactly what happened.”

You flinch at his voice, half expecting him to start shouting but he sounds almost calm. There’s a strain to his voice, like he’s restraining himself. He’s doing it for your sake, you think. 

“Ghost and I were walking back from the mess when one of the alphas called out to me. He...he asked if I was going to go spread my legs for ‘that freak’ and he said he could offer me a better time.” You swallow thickly, Price’s shoulders tensing just slightly. “I don’t know what happened...I just suddenly felt so angry and it’s like I lost control of myself and I went up to him and he asked if I was gonna take him up on his offer and that he’d like to bend me over and stare at my sweet ass all night...and then I hit him, sir.” 

“Good.” 

You look up at Price in surprise at his answer, your eyes widening a bit. “S-sorry, sir?” 

“I have little tolerance for alphas that think it’s alright to speak crudely to omegas, especially those they were explicitly told to let be. You saved me a lot of paperwork today. Simon would have done a lot worse had you not gotten to him first.” He moves the papers on his desk aside, holding out his hand. “Let me see.” 

You stare at his hand for a moment before you realize he’s talking about your hand. You push your sleeve up, putting your hand in his. Your knuckles have swollen a bit and bruised, tender to the touch as he runs his thumb over them. 

“Simon told me you asked him to teach you to fight.” He says, closing his fingers around your hand. 

“Well, not so much fight, sir.” You say, staring at your hands. “Maybe just how to throw a decent punch.” 

“I’d say the one you threw today was at least half-decent. Corporal Allen is sporting quite the bruise on his face.” The corner of his lips lift in a smile. “You won’t have to worry about him anymore. He’ll be properly dealt with and they’ll all be receiving a lecture on proper base etiquette.” 

“So...am I in trouble, sir?” You ask, pulling your hand back slowly as he releases it. 

“No, you were simply defending yourself after Corporal Allen made a pass at you. Just don’t make it a habit of going around punching alphas.” He smiles. 

“I’ll try not to, sir.” You say, relieved that you weren’t about to get punished for your mistake. 

“Go on.” He nods towards the door. “I’m sure the boys are waiting for you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, standing up from your chair, heading towards the door. 

Price leans back in his chair as the door closes, the sweet scent of caramel and strawberries still permeating his office. He breathes it in for a moment before pulling out his phone, scrolling through the contacts. 

“You’ll be delighted to hear our girl punched an alpha in the face today.” He says once the other line picks up. 

“She did what?” Laswell asks, genuine surprise in her tone. 

“One of the Corporals made a pass at her, and she left quite the bruise on his cheek. She’s turning into quite the spitfire.” 

“I told you she would fit right in. Underneath all that institute-taught BS there’s quite the personality. How is she settling in?” 

“She’s softening up to the betas already. Still a bit fidgety, but she’s found a way to get Simon to warm up to her.” 

“Oh? How so?” 

“She asked him to teach her to fight.” Price grins. 

Laswell chuckles. “I told you she’s smart. Just make sure he’s gentle with her.” 

“Don't worry, I reminded him to go easy on her. I think it will be good for both of them. Some forced proximity will be good for Simon and she’ll get to learn a few things that could be helpful.” 

“So long as she doesn’t go around trying to fight more alphas.” 

“She’s already promised not to. The Corporal got off easy. I can only imagine what Simon might have done to him.” 

“I’m glad to hear things are going well, John. I worry about her sometimes, but I know you boys will take good care of her.” 

“We’re doing our best.” 

“If you ever need anything, you know you can call.” 

“I know. I’ll keep you updated as her heat gets closer.” 

“Good. I’d hate to have to file that paperwork.” 

Price grimaces. “I know. I hope you don’t have to.” 

You’re tying your shoes as the knock sounds on the door. You’re not sure how they manage to do it, always seeming to catch you at the perfect moment. You’re glad Kate thought to get you some more active-wear type clothing, though perhaps she expected you’d be getting involved in their training or at least start a bit of your own once you arrived, just as she had thought to get you outdoorsy clothes too. 

You open the door, staring up at the hulking form of Ghost. 

“Come on.” He grunts, turning on his heel to walk down the hallway. 

You quickly close your door, hurrying after him. Not much has changed since your request for him to train you, though you didn’t really expect it to. Not at first, at least. You still have to prove yourself to him. Simply existing and getting involved in their lives would not be enough. 

He escorts you to the gym, a building you haven’t been in yet. There’s a few soldiers milling around, most of them in the weight room. There’s a pool across from the weight room, for more than just swimming, you think. Your father had talked about his own water survival training. You can only imagine the kind of water training they go through. 

Ghost leads you towards the back of the gym, unlocking a door near the exit. It’s set up not unlike a dojo, mats on the floor and punching bags and other training equipment along the walls. Ghost empties his pockets, setting his things on a bench before removing his sweatshirt. 

You can’t help but stare, only ever having seen him in long sleeves. His muscles bulge beneath his t-shirt, the first bit of skin revealed to you besides his neck, chin, and hands. Your eyes are drawn to his arms, taking in the sheer size of them. 

Tattoos. 

He has a sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. You have a desire to look at them closer, to trace each one but you wouldn’t dare. Not right now. You pull off your own sweatshirt, folding it and setting it on the bench, leaving you in just a t-shirt and your leggings. 

You fail in your attempt not to stare as he walks towards the center of the mat in his t-shirt and sweatpants, swallowing nervously. He turns to face you, motioning for you to approach with two of his fingers. Your face warms as you hurry onto the mat, coming to stand in front of him. 

“Let me see.” He says, holding out his hand. 

You stare at it for a moment before your brain catches up, and you put your right hand into his. You ignore the feeling of his fingers wrapping around your hand, lifting it so he can inspect your still bruised knuckles. 

“We’ll start with dodging.” He says, releasing your hand, taking a step back. “Let me see your stance.” 

You part your feet a little, bringing your fists up to your face. His shoulders shake in a quiet huff of a laugh as he stares at you. 

“You need to stagger your stance more.” He says, circling you. “Otherwise,” Hands push you from behind, and you nearly avoid face planting into the floor. “You’re too easy to knock over. The last thing you want is the fight to end up on the floor. You won’t be getting back up if you let your opponent overpower you that much. Again.” He motions to you. 

You set up your stance again, widening your feet just a bit. 

“Good.” He says, moving to stand in front of you. “These protect your face.” He says, hands wrapping around your wrists, raising your hands just a bit. “You get hit in the face...” 

“I won’t be getting back up.” You finish for him. 

You know most fights end up with both opponents on the ground. You’d watched your brothers wrestle and play fight enough to know that. You’re not here to learn how to win a fight, only how to protect yourself enough until you can find space to run. 

You barely have time to stumble back as his fist swings at you, nearly losing your footing. “Hey! You could warn me first.” 

“You think someone attacking you is going to warn you?” He asks. 

He has a point. 

“Use your legs.” He says as you set yourself up again. “Move side to side if you can instead of ducking under the punch, but if you have to, don’t let your eyes leave your opponent.” 

You see this punch coming, ducking to your right to avoid getting hit. 

“Good.” He says, repeating the motion with his left hand. “Stay focused.” 

You continue with the same motion a few times, already starting to feel a bit fatigued. Running is one thing, but strength is another. Most omegas aren’t naturally strong, nor are they inclined to increase their strength. That’s what alphas and their packs are for. It’s not unheard of, though, for omegas to increase their physical strength. Perhaps you’ll need to consider looking into doing that as well. 

Ghost takes a step back, letting you rest for a moment. You’re breathing heavily, though he’s hardly looking fatigued at all. He’s used to this, you remind yourself. He probably throws more punches in a day in the field than he’s thrown at you so far in 30 minutes. 

“Now, let’s make it a bit more realistic.” He says, a low rumble at the edge of his voice. 

A wave of scent hits you, your brain nearly short-circuiting. Fear pulses through you, ozone burning your nostrils. You stumble backwards, landing on your back on the mat. You’re breathing heavily, every cell in your body screaming at you to run or submit. 

“That’s...that’s n-not fair!” You say, your hands trembling from the adrenaline coursing through you. 

“Any alpha you fight is going to use every natural advantage they have over you.” Ghost says, stalking towards you. You can practically see it, the purebred alpha within him coming through. “You need to learn to protect yourself against them.” 

“That's...that’s not possible.” You say, the edge of a whine detectable in your tone. 

He kneels down over you, crowding into your space despite the souring of your scent. It doesn’t even seem to phase him as he forces you flat on your back, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head. You stare up at him, every fiber of your being screaming at you to bare your throat, submit, give in. 

Don’t back down. 

Don’t back down. 

You push past the fear, the instincts screaming at you as you drive your knee up into his stomach. He lets out a grunt but it doesn’t phase him, his hand wrapping around your leg, using his sheer strength to flip you onto your stomach under him. He presses against you, body folding over yours. You resist the urge, the instinct to press back into him, to be a good omega. 

“If an alpha gets you onto the floor...” He says, warm breath fanning your ear through his mask. “You won’t want to get back up.” 

His face presses against your neck as he inhales deeply before he pushes himself up, grabbing the back of your shirt and hauling you to your feet as well. You’re shaking, your heart thumping in your chest. Your head feels fuzzy, your brain buzzing a bit. Your omega is confused, poised to strike but she’s not sure against who. Ghost isn’t a threat, and you know that, but he had just proved how easily he could be. Any of them could be, with a simple scent change and their sheer strength. 

“Again.” He says, getting into a fighting stance. 

“You can’t expect me to fight after that.” You say, your voice breathless. 

“If you’re in a real fight, you won’t have much of a choice.” He says, the rumble still audible around his own voice. 

He’s right. If someone is attacking you, it’s likely going to be to kill, or to try and take you from them. Your omega shifts uncomfortably as you raise your shaking hands to guard your face. You continue to dodge punches, hitting the ground more and more as you continue to get tired. You’re going to be sore, still feeling your hike through the woods a bit. 

The door opens, giving you a moment to breathe. Soap enters, a grin on his face. 

“Ah, the wee lass is still breathin’.” He says, leaning against the wall. “Came tae make sure ye hadnae killed ‘er.” 

You can practically hear Ghost roll his eyes, his back turned to you as he says something to Soap. You can’t hear what it is, the ringing in your ears too loud. Your omega is still worked up, still poised to strike, more so now in your exhausted state. You push yourself off the floor, not having a moment to think things through before you’re throwing yourself at Ghost’s back. 

He turns before you hit him, catching you and flipping you onto your back on the mat. You hit hard, the breath forced from your lungs at the impact.

“Christ, Simon!” Soap shouts, hurrying to your side. “Ye tryin’ tae break her, ye numpty?” 

“Don’t do that again.” Ghost growls at you, stomping over to grab his things before leaving the room. 

“Easy, hen.” Soap soothes you as you gasp for air, his hand gently rubbing your shoulder. “Be over before ye know it.” 

Slowly the paralysis of your diaphragm begins to lessen, your stomach still aching but the air comes easier now. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to fight the tears. You’ve messed it up. One day and you’ve already done more damage than you would have had you not asked him to teach you to fight. 

“Don’ worry, hen. He’s just worked up, that's all.” Soap says, brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead. 

“It’s his fault.” You murmur. 

“Maybe, but yer scent...surprised you didn’t notice, hen.” Soap wiggles his brows. 

Your face warms. You hadn’t noticed the uptick of muskiness in the room, the heady scent of arousal before now.

It’s not yours. 

“Me?” You ask, letting Soap help you into a seated position. 

Soap smirks. “It wasnae me that tented his breeks this time.” 

Your face warms even more, your body feeling like it might explode. 

“Come on, hen.” He says, slipping his hands under your arms to lift you to your feet. “There’s still time tae shower before breakfast.” 

“I can assume you know why you were called in here sooner than our normal weekly meeting time.” Dr. Keller says as you sit in her office. 

“Because I punched Corporal Allen.” You say with a wince. 

Dr. Keller nods. “Indeed. I just want to make sure you’re feeling alright, after that. Getting into an altercation with an alpha can be tough.” 

“I don’t think I’d call it an altercation.” You say quietly. 

“Maybe not,” She says, shuffling her papers. “But standing up to an alpha can be daunting.” 

“I wasn’t alone.” You shrug. “Ghost was there.” 

“I saw both yours and Lieutenant Riley’s account of what happened. I’m wondering, would you have confronted him if you were alone?” 

Her question makes you think for a moment. Would you have stopped? Would you have confronted him, much less punched him if you were alone, or even with one of the others? No, you likely would have ignored him and kept walking like you did with Gaz. You’d likely have gone straight to your room and cried a little out of embarrassment and disgust. 

“No, ma’am.” You say quietly. “I don’t think so.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “You’re aware of Lieutenant Riley’s status.” 

You nod, a frown pulling at your brows. How did she figure it out? “Yes, ma’am.” 

“I know because I have access to their medical records.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s required for statuses to be present in medical records since purebreds have to be treated differently, just as alphas, betas, and omegas have to be treated differently.” 

You do know that. You know that an injured alpha can get defensive if they feel cornered. You know omegas can die from stress if they’re not taken care of correctly. You know betas can get overwhelmed by large groups of injured people all in the same place without proper training to filter out the scents of agony and suffering. 

“I think you reacted to his scent.” Dr. Keller continues. “You mentioned feeling a sudden rush of uncontrollable anger. Do you remember smelling anything at that moment?” 

You nod. “Ozone.” 

She nods, the pieces beginning to come together in your own head. “I’m sure you’ve figured out how different purebred alpha’s are and how much more potent their scents are. Your own status makes you more susceptible to their scents and the changes in them. You were reacting to the change in his scent. Your omega sensed a threat, and took over for a moment to defend you. It’s a natural response in omegas towards those they see as protectors, or even packmates.” 

Your eyes widen a bit at her words. Ghost is technically your packmate. He’s an alpha in your pack, but you’ve never considered that you see him as anything but. He has defended you, and he had defended you not long before your altercation with Corporal Allen. Had your omega begun to cling to him out of a sheer need for protection after something like what happened in the mess? 

You would like Ghost to see you as more than just an omega in his pack, more than just Price’s omega. You know he’d never claim you, but you’d at least like to get onto friendly terms with him. Soap said it had taken proving himself before Ghost started to accept him. You’re hoping your time spent learning how to fight helps you prove yourself, that you’re not a threat or even a risk. That maybe you can be an acceptable omega for his pack. 

“Aside from this incident, how are you settling in? How are things going with your new pack?” 

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug, starting to pick at your sleeve again. “Ghost is teaching me to defend myself.”

“Oh? Does this have something to do with what happened with Corporal Allen? Or is there a different reason?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“I mean, partially that but also, Ghost, he’s...hard to get along with.” You grimace. “I know that in relationships, a good way to bond with people is to get into their hobbies so you have something in common. Ghost...ghost speaks in violence and I think it would help ease some of my fears if I can at least defend myself.” 

“I think this is a great idea. It allows for some bonding time between the two of you, and it can also be beneficial to ease your anxiety a bit. As long as you’re being careful and you don’t get hurt.” She says, giving you a pointed look. 

You think back to Ghost flipping you onto your back on the mat, narrowly missing getting hit, how he’d pinned you down using his own scent against you. “He’s being careful.” You say, clearing your throat. “Price would put him through the ringer if something happened. Even just as an accident.” 

“How are things going with Price?” She asks, writing something down. 

You shrug. “Fine. He involved me in some training this past weekend. We hiked out to a watchtower and the others tried to follow my scent. We got to spend some time together while we waited.” 

“Have you done much of that? Spending time together?” She asks. 

You shake your head. “Not really. He’s...busy. A lot.” 

“You should start making an effort to get to know him more.” Dr. Keller says. “It’ll make it easier once your heat hits if you’re familiar with him. Have you knelt for him yet?” 

You shake your head again, not wanting to answer out loud. 

“Why not?” She asks. 

“He still hasn’t asked me to.” You murmur. 

“Do you know why omegas kneel for their alphas?” She asks. 

You nod. “It’s good for our brains and bodies. It helps relax us and soothes our omega, makes it easier to process stressful events and can prevent stress related diseases later in life.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “Correct. It’s an important first step in building that bond between an alpha and an omega, when it’s done correctly.” 

Bad alphas can use kneeling to control omegas, put them in certain mindsets, make them more subservient. You know this, you’d heard stories from your fellow omegas after watching their parents. That’s not kneeling. You never had the heart to tell them it was so much worse. 

“Do you want to kneel for him?” She asks you. 

That word again. 

You do want to kneel for him. You’ve wanted to since this past Saturday in the watchtower. You’ve felt that urge, that drive to drop to your knees beside him and let yourself go, let him carry everything you’ve been feeling over the last week. 

You nod slowly, ripping one of the strings off your sleeve. You’re fighting the tears, fighting the emotions welling up inside you. You can feel them building, pushing against your stomach and your chest, threatening to burst right out of your skin and leave you nothing but an empty carcass. You’re breathing has picked up, shaking a bit as you inhale deeply. 

“Why haven’t you asked?” Dr. Keller asks, her brows furrowing as she stares at you. 

“I don’t know how!” The words tear from your lips, almost echoing as they bounce off the walls like projectiles. You haven’t so much as raised your voice in years, much less to a person of authority, but you can’t stop. The dam has been breached. “Everyone keeps asking me what I want, but I don’t know how to want!” Tears cascade down your cheeks, your breaths coming in sharp gasps. You cover your face with your hands, muffling your sobs. “I’m not supposed to want.” 

“Hey,” Dr. Keller’s voice is soft as she kneels in front of you, her hands trying to gently pry yours away from your face. “Who told you that?” 

“That’s what we’re taught!” You hiccup, letting her pull your hands from your face. The tears are still falling, lips trembling as you sob. “We’re supposed to be good omegas. Obedient and serve our alphas. We don’t want anything, we’re only supposed to give.” 

“Well that’s a load of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it.” 

Dr. Keller’s words shock you into reality, your sobs halting with a sharp inhale. You stare at her, the tears still spilling from your eyes. Your hands are closed into fists, your sore knuckles aching from the strain. 

“You’re an omega. It’s in your nature to want, to need. You can’t help your alpha if your own needs aren’t being met first. It’s okay to need things, to want things. Are there things you want?” 

“Softer blankets. Fluffier pillows. A nightlight. Something to put on my walls. Strawberry scented body wash. Some goddamn authentic Mexican food.” 

Dr. Keller chuckles lightly. “I can agree with you on that last one.” She squeezes your arms gently. “You’re allowed to ask for things. You’re not a soldier, and even they are allowed to have things of their own, comfort items, with them. It doesn’t have to be material things either that you ask for. I’m sure your pack would find a way to bend over backwards if you asked them.” 

She’s right. The book says omegas can hold great power over the members of their packs if they try. A mix of playing their instincts and the right behavior and temperament can have betas and alphas wrapped around your finger. The idea of having such control over four powerful men makes your head spin. 

“I want Soap to kiss me.” You blurt out, your face warming as you hastily wipe at your tears to hide. 

“Oh?” Dr. Keller’s eyebrows raise as she looks at you. “This is a new development.” 

“We...we almost did...a couple days ago.” You say, burying your face in your hands. “But I stopped it because I thought maybe Price...but then he said he didn’t care...” 

Dr. Keller gently wraps her hands around your wrists, lowering your hands. “It’s okay to want that, and it’s okay to want to kneel for Price. I bet he’d be delighted if you asked him. I bet he was waiting because he didn't think you were ready for it yet.”  

The calming beta scent washes over you, Dr. Keller projecting it to try and help you calm down. Your tears have stopped, your breathing starting to slow as the gentle almond scent goes straight to your brain. 

“I’d like us to still meet for our regularly scheduled appointment this week, but I’m giving you an assignment to complete between then and now.” Dr. Keller says. “I want you to ask one of the members of your pack for one thing that you want. You can pick what it is, and who you ask, but I want to hear about it when I see you later this week, understood?” 

You push back the nerves twisting in your stomach. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good.” She pushes herself up to stand. “You can stay here as long as you want. Just let me know when you’re ready to go back to the barracks. Take your time. You are my only patient.” 

She grabs the paperwork off the couch before moving to her desk. You watch her for a moment before letting your eyes wander. You wipe at your face, your cheeks feeling puffy from your tears. You’re glad she’s giving you time to relax. The last thing you needed was to run into a member of your pack like this. 

That’s not a conversation you want to have right now. 

You take deep breaths, letting the beta scent permeating the air calm you down. You sink down further into the chair, letting it surround you. It’s soft, the cushions pressing around you like a hug. You wonder how she managed to get it in the hard, “function-above-all” world of the military. You wonder how she got most things in her office, or maybe if she’d brought them with her. 

It was likely Kate’s doing, you think. The office space was made for an omega, set up to be as comforting as possible. Though, you don't doubt Dr. Keller would have argued her case for having these things fearlessly if she had to. 

You stay in her office for a while, listening to the clacking of her keyboard as the soothing beta scent washes over you. Your eyes are still burning a bit as you force yourself out of the chair, out of the soft comfort you could spend days wrapped in. 

“I’m ready to go now.” You say quietly. 

“Okay.” Dr. Keller says, finishing what she was typing before she stands, grabbing her keys. 

She locks the office behind you before you leave the medical center, pulling up your hood to protect you from the drizzling rain. You’re growing used to the perpetually grey skies and sudden rainstorms. 

Dr. Keller squeezes your arm gently as you stop at the door to the barracks. “Remember what I told you. I’ll see you in a few days, alright?” 

You nod. “Thank you.” 

She smiles softly. “You did good today. I am proud of you.” 

You slip into the door of the barracks as she makes her way back to the medical center, your shoes squeaking on the tile floors. You head back to your room, the silence in the barracks telling you they’re not back yet. 

You kick off your shoes, pulling your damp sweatshirt off as you sit on the edge of your bed. You stare at your ruined sleeve, the seam split to the edge of the cuff now. You got the sweatshirt from one of your fellow omegas at the institute, and you’ve worn it almost every day since. It’s turned a bit raggedy, and your picking at it hasn’t helped any. 

Ask for one thing that you want. 

It would be easy to ask for a new sweatshirt. You’re sure if you asked Gaz, he’d give you the one right off his back. Everything you can think to ask for, they’d have to buy. If you asked Soap, he’d likely commandeer the closest vehicle and drive straight to town and buy you one in every color, even if he didn’t have permission to. 

You could ask for something that’s not material. 

Warmth floods your face as you think about it. How would you even ask? You can’t just ask directly. You could, but you might die of embarrassment if anyone heard you. There’s nothing to really be embarrassed about, but you can’t help it. It’s a bold thing to ask for, and you’re not sure you’re feeling quite so bold today. 

You chew on your lip as the barrack door opens, their voices echoing down the hallway as they return from their morning training. They pass by your door, their own doors opening and closing. You get up, moving to stand in front of your own door, holding your breath. You could just step out, knock on his door and ask. He’s probably changing, though. You’d never get the words out if he thought it was one of the others and opened it half dressed. 

You have to do it, though, before you lose your nerve. If you don’t do it now, you’ll never do it and you’ll have to tell Dr. Keller that you failed. You’re allowed to want things. It’s your nature to want things. It’s human nature to want things. There’s nothing wrong with having needs and wants. 

You can want this. 

You repeat it over and over as you slowly open your door, letting it close behind you. You smell the air, finding the trail of his scent. It disappears down the hall and around the corner towards the rec room. Your legs feel shaky as you follow it, your stomach twisting anxiously. You can want this. It’s okay to want this. 

You turn the corner, finding him coming out of the rec room. He grins at you, eyes sparkling. 

You want this. 

“Hey, lass, was just lookin’ for ye. Are ye ready for lunch-” 

His words cut off as you grab his face, standing on your toes to press your lips against his. He makes a surprised sound against your lips, his body tensing. It’s quick, only a couple seconds before you’re releasing him, taking a big step back. Your eyes are wide with shock, almost as wide as his. His lips are parted in surprise still, his shoulders tensed. 

“Sorry.” You blurt out, your nerves only heightened. What if he hadn’t wanted it? “Sorry, I just...I wanted to do it and I wanted you to do it that day, but I’ve never had a real kiss before and I thought maybe Price would want to...but then he said he didn’t care-” 

Your words cut off as he grips your chin, lifting your face so you’re looking at him. The tension has melted from his shoulders, the surprise gone from his face. His eyes are soft as they stare down at you, his thumb brushing your lower lip. 

“I didnae know it was yer first kiss.” He says softly. “I wouldnae pushed it so far if I did.” 

“It wasn’t technically my first kiss, I kissed another omega at the institute but I don’t really count it cause I did it for her.” You shrug. “I’ve regretted pulling away since that day and Dr. Keller said I should start learning to want things and she gave me the assignment of asking for one thing that I want before I see her again at the end of the week and I could have just asked for something simple but-” 

Your words are cut off as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours again. It’s soft and sweet, his hand sliding from your chin to the back of your head, holding you against him. Your fingers grip his shirt, and you lift yourself onto your toes to press back against him as his lips move against yours. 

His forehead presses against yours as he pulls away, your breaths mingling as you continue to hold each other. “Gaz will be upset he missed out.” He says quietly, lips tugging up in a smile as he squeezes your waist. 

“He can kiss me later.” You say, pressing a quick kiss to his lips once more before pulling away. “After lunch.” 

Soap chuckles quietly, slipping his hand into yours. “After lunch.” 

You hesitate outside the door, shifting nervously on your feet. You could turn around and go back to bed, pretend like you hadn’t spent an hour convincing yourself to walk down here, like you haven’t been thinking about this all afternoon. You had already completed your assignment for the week. You’d kissed Soap, done something you wanted. You’ve fulfilled that desire, and it didn’t kill you. You hadn’t dropped dead afterward. If the others noticed, they didn’t say anything. 

This isn’t a want. 

You knock softly on the door, half tempted to turn and run and hide under your covers until you inevitably have to get up tomorrow. 

“Come in.” 

Your hand hesitates on the door handle for just a moment before you’re turning it, stepping into the office. He doesn’t look surprised to see you, though you suppose if nothing else, he had smelled you standing outside. The thought makes your cheeks warm in embarrassment. How long has he known you were standing out there? 

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” He asks, setting down his pen. 

You shuffle nervously, clasping your hands in front of you. “I-I was wondering...I..um...” You take a deep breath. “I was wondering if I could kneel for you.” 

You bite your lip as he stares at you, the words having come out fast, almost meshing into one long string of nonsense. His eyes darken just a bit, his scent thickening in the air. 

“You want to kneel for me, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice low and rough. 

You nod, shifting your weight again. “Yes, sir.” 

“Grab a pillow.” He nods to the couch. “I won’t have you hurting yourself.” 

You grab one of the pillows from the couch, wondering how often he’s slept in his office. How many nights he’s spent awake, pouring over files, his mind working too hard for him to find any rest. You set the pillow on the floor before kneeling down next to him, facing his desk. You shift until you’re comfortable, sitting back on your feet. You let out a long breath as your eyes slipped closed, your fingers twitching anxiously in your lap. 

Price’s hand is gentle as it comes to rest on the top of your head. You relax into his touch as he strokes your hair, working his way down towards your neck. You force your mind to relax, easing away the desire to tense your shoulders, to draw them up around your ears. It’s pure natural instinct, one that will fade the more you practice, the more you bond with him. The more you trust him. 

“Ready?” He asks, his voice sounding far away despite the fact you’re right next to him. 

“Yes, sir.” You murmur, pressing your head into his hand. 

His hand slips lower, curling around the back of your neck. You inhale sharply as he finally makes contact with the sensitive area. His hand is warm, the tension slowly easing from your body as he presses his thumb lightly into the side of your neck. The back of your brain begins to buzz, your mind slowly filling with static. You relax even further, your head bowing just slightly as you feel the weight of the last three months lifting off your shoulders. 

All the emotions, all the fear, all the unknowns suddenly feel far away. All the apprehension and the anxiety are soothed to nothing as he holds you, the hand on your neck a firm reminder that you’re not alone in this anymore. You have an alpha now, a strong alpha that you can trust in, that will carry it all for you. 

You don’t need to be stressed or afraid anymore. A warmth begins blossoming within you, spreading from your core out to your fingers and toes. You feel a bit dazed, but not in a bad way. You’re not afraid of the feeling, not with your alpha’s hand around the back of your neck keeping you safe. 

You’re not sure how much time passes, how long you kneel there. It could be five minutes, it could be two hours. Price continues to go over his paperwork, his other hand steady on the back of your neck. It’s not until he’s done that he carefully pushes his seat back, kneeling on the floor next to you. He releases your neck, catching your body as it slumps over, drawing you against his chest. 

“Easy, sweet girl.” He murmurs, pressing your face into his neck. 

You’re shaking a bit, brain still dazed and flying as you breathe in his scent. Earthy, trees, petrichor. The warm muskiness of a content alpha. You made him smell like that. You invoked that scent. 

“Feeling alright?” He murmurs into your hair, gently stroking your side as you begin to come back into your body. 

You hum in affirmation, wrapping your arms around his neck. You haven’t been this close to him yet, not since the scenting and that was more of a formal closeness, a required closeness. This is because you want it. 

“Don’t let me go.” You murmur into his neck, clinging to him tightly. 

His arms tighten around you for a moment before he slips them under you, lifting you into his arms easily. He pushes himself from the floor, moving to sit on the couch with you on his lap. You let yourself go lax in his hold again, feeling calmer and more relaxed than you have in months. You feel safe in his arms, not that he would have let anything happen to you before. 

You’ve always been safe, you think as you let your eyes drift closed again. 

The water is hot as it runs down his back, contrasting the cool tile against his forehead. His eyes are closed, breaths slow and steady through his nose. He can’t get that damn scent of vanilla and sweet, sweet omega arousal out of his head. He drives his fist into the wall with a growl, cursing the blood rushing south. 

He can’t forget the way you felt under him, pinned so easily and helpless beneath him. He hates the way his cock twitches at the thought of the pout on your lips as he’d swung at you, narrowly missing you too many times. The way you tried to jump him. 

He lets out another frustrated growl, slamming his forehead into the tile. A hand presses against his bare back and he turns on his heel, hand wrapping around Johnny’s throat, slamming him back against the shower wall. 

Jesus Christ, he’s going to kill the mutt one of these days. 

“Easy, Lt.” Johnny rasps, not fazed at all by the alpha’s actions. His eyes flicker lower, to the hard cock standing at attention. “Bit worked up, eh?” 

He lets Johnny go with a growl, stepping back under the water, turning it all the way to the right until it’s nearly freezing. He almost groans in frustration as the water shuts off completely, his eyes cracking open as Johnny’s hand trails up his chest. 

“Easy, big guy. Let me help ye.” 

Simon moves until his back is pressed against the tiles, eyes not leaving Johnny’s sapphire ones as the beta slowly kneels in front of him. Johnny’s hands trace over his hips, outlining scars both old and new. Johnny’s fingers finally reach his cock, wrapping around the thick length. Simon sighs in quiet relief as Johnny slowly pumps his length, their gazes still locked. 

Simon stares down at Johnny through his blonde lashes as Johnny leans forward, dragging his tongue along his head. A low growl rumbles through his chest as the beta circles his tongue around his head, smearing precum on his chin. He’s painfully hard now, breaking his gaze as his head tilts back, eyes fluttering closed. 

His fingers sink into Johnny’s mohawk as the beta takes his cock in his mouth. He breathes through his nose, relaxing his throat as Simon’s cock sinks deeper and deeper, Johnny’s hands closing around his hips to hold himself steady. Simon grips his hair tightly as he begins to move, bobbing his head along his length, his tongue pressing against the bottom of his cock. 

Simon squeezes his eyes closed as an image comes to mind, a smaller hand fondling his balls. His hand wraps around the base of his cock as he imagines soft lips on his tip, Johnny’s tongue tracing the parts of him that you can’t fit yet as you take him in your mouth. The sweet whines that would be pulled from you as he choked you on his thick length, Johnny whispering sweet encouragements to you. 

He can picture the two of you, you and Johnny with your tongues entwined, his cum stringing between your lips. 

He growls, yanking Johnny off his cock and pinning him to the tile wall. Johnny’s lips are parted as he breathes heavily, eyes blown with lust as he stares up at his alpha. Simon’s hand tugs at his hair, tilting his head back to bear his throat. Johnny lets out a quiet moan as he sinks his teeth into the delicate skin, leaving a mark he’ll wear proudly for a few days. 

“Turn around and bend over.” He growls to the beta, his cock still hard and throbbing. 

“Sir, yes sir.” Johnny says, smirking wickedly as he slowly turns to face the wall. 

Fucking christ, Simon groans. They’re going to be the death of him. 

You’re going to be the death of him. 

Taglist, part 1:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @ghostlythots @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @thychuvaluswife @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @bisky-business @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @cadotoast @linaangel @rancid-wasp @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @puppyel @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006

#call of duty #call of duty fic #poly 141 #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #alpha beta omega #a/b/o #john price x reader #captain price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x soap #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader

[utterlyazriel]

let me keep you company

a/n: a wee break from the doom & gloom of wtssf! it's unedited so i want no flack for that thank u <3 enjoy <3 wc: 5.1k whoops synopsis: You're studying in Velaris and a certain Shadowsinger catches your eyes in more than one way. It takes a while to realise the shadow keeping you company means more than you expect.

For the record, you had never met a Shadowsinger before.

You'd never even seen one. Sure, you’d read about them briefly in your studies and almost every Fae in Prythian had heard about them in whispers and rumours.

Rumours that increased more so when a Shadowsinger rose to become a hand for the Highlord, his own personal spy. Then became the spymaster of the entire Night Court for the next Highlord.

But beyond gossip and unfinished chapters within the scripts of your libraries, the knowledge of Shadowsingers is far limited. They’re rare. For all you know, Shadowsinger’s are a ghost— moving as a shadow, disappearing in and out of the darkness of the world.

You had never met a Shadowsinger before—so it makes sense that you hadn't an ounce of a clue what to expect.

Staring at him now, 6 feet something of pure muscle, you're a bit embarrassed at your own surprise.

Because he's probably— no definitely— the most beautiful Fae you've ever laid eyes on. His hair is tousled and dark, his glorious tan skin that's mostly hidden beneath the black of his fighter leathers, and his amber eyes that laid on you for only one long moment. Breathtaking is the only adequate word for him.

All that beauty and he's a Shadowsinger.

And it's not like you thought he wouldn't be like, well, any other Fae. But also... you kinda did? Mother, you should've known Freya was tricking you when she said they were all just shadow-y corporeal forms.

But she's also not entirely wrong there. There are dozens of wispy shadows that hover around him in constant motion, dipping and flying around his shoulders and if you look close enough, you can see how he seems to ripple at the edges. Shadows blur the edge of his very being.

You wonder if he can disappear into them all together, if that was one of the abilities granted with them. Does he control them? He must, you think, if the title is Shadowsinger.

But looking at him now, his beautiful face turned to face the Highlord you should definitely be listening to, they flit about almost absentmindedly, as though they have a mind of their own.

One curls up by his ear and you watch it, fascinated, more and more questions springing up in your mind— what do they feel like on skin? Do they make any noise? Is that what they're doing now? Talking to—

A sharp elbow jabs into your side, making you jump.

Your head whips to the side, an instinctive scowl almost overtaking your face before you plaster it over with a smile, realising your mistake. Your mentor, Sergei, clears his throat and smiles awkwardly ahead at Rhysand. You blink and take another moment to realise you've been asked a question.

"I'm— I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" You try not to sound as mousy as you feel but the question comes out as a squeak anyway. He is the Highlord of the Night Court after all. You suddenly feel very foolish for being so easily distracted.

Thankfully, Rhysand regards you with an easy smile. He's leaned back in his chair, relaxed, and his violet eyes dance with humour as he flicks his gaze over to where you had just been staring.

"That's alright. Azriel is a piece of eye candy, I can't blame you for staring," He all but purrs, a hint of mirth pulling at his lips as he casts another glance at his Spymaster. You're taken aback by the casualness of his words.

Rhysand continues. "I was only saying that for the duration of your stay, you'll be hosted in one of my homes, the House of Wind. You aren't afraid of heights, are you?"

A smidge of fear pinches at your stomach because, honestly, you aren't overly keen on the idea. But you know better than to turn down the generosity of a Highlord.

You take another glance at the wings of his Spymaster and General and pray that it's not too high up.

"Not... much." You answer honestly.

There's a chuckle from the side of the room and your head swings around at the noise. It's not the Shadowsinger, though he looks as though he's politely trying not to smile, his chin ducked. It's the General, just as beautiful as his brother but in that more rugged way.

He flexes his wings out a bit, showing off their mighty wingspan. "We'll rid you of that fear in no time."

You try for a smile but it might be closer to a grimace.

"Fantastic." You say, not managing to put all your enthusiasm into the word like you hoped.

Another sharp jab of Sergei's elbow in your side. The Shadowsinger, Azriel, huffs a quiet laugh, his amber eyes flashing up to steal another look at you. You try your best not to fluster.

It's going to be a long two months.

—

As Sergei's apprentice, you're expected to shadow him through his allowed time within Velaris.

Which means if he goes to the library, you go to the library.

There's just one problem; the library is down in the city and your temporary home is up in the mountain. The quickest way down is with wings.

Rhysand— or just Rhys as he had told you to call him— had relayed the information that you could ask either Cassian or Azriel to escort you if you didn't wish to take the stairs.

Cassian, the General, had been the one to fly you down and back the first couple of times you had asked and you weren't in any particular hurry to relive the experience.

Cassian was nice and he was more than friendly but seemingly incapable of understanding any fear of heights. You weren't sure if that was just the only way to fly— swooping and dropping fast enough to make you shriek— but it certainly seemed to be Cassian's way.

Which leaves you with the option of either asking the Shadowsinger or taking the stairs.

You get down about two hundred steps before you start to regret your decision. But, also, how in the Cauldron were you supposed to ask him to take you? (Never mind that you had asked Cassian quite easily, albeit very nervously.)

Oh, hi Shadowsinger who I can't stop staring at for both your abilities and your handsome face—care to sweep me into your arms and carry me places?

As if, you snort to yourself.

You take the thousand stairs all the way to the bottom and trot towards the enormous library, pretending your thighs aren't aching with overuse or that you're out of breath. Thankfully, the library itself isn't too far from the House of Wind, carved into the same side of the mountain.

As expected, Sergei is less than pleased with your tardiness.

"Sorry," The word rushes out of you in a wheeze, probably too loud for the library, as you scuttle in the entrance. A few priestesses turn their heads to look at you and you cringe, raising your hands in apology. "Sorry, I'm sorry,"

You focus back on your mentor and try to catch your breath, all while you explain. "I took the stairs and it took—" You huff out a breath. "—way longer than I thought."

Sergei's face softens a bit at your explanation, his face taking on a pitiful smile. "Still not enjoying the flying?"

"You are?" You ask in response. The thought of Sergei, your old-Fae mentor, swept up in Cassian's arms as he dips and dives makes you chuckle just a bit.

Sergei shakes his head as if to change the topic of conversation, deciding you've wasted enough time already. He turns, beginning to head further into the library and you follow behind him closely, eager to brush over your early morning fumble. The cavernous structure within the mountain yawns out ahead of you and you get all of two moments to wonder just how deep down it goes, when—

"You did not ask for a ride this morning."

Azriel steps up beside you, seemingly from nowhere, his steps falling in time with yours with ease. You jump, startled, and your footsteps falter for a moment. You're relieved to say that you only make one embarrassing noise in your surprise.

"I— oh, it's— I mean, I just..." You trail off, feeling flustered. "...like to walk."

You chance a glance up at him. He's wearing that same polite expression from yesterday, as though he's trying not to laugh and you get too caught up in the swirlings of his shadows to remember to be properly embarrassed. Both of you walk in tandem behind Sergei, slowly descending into the lower levels of the library.

"If you insist," He says, his voice low. It sends something warm down your spine and you pray he doesn't notice how your body temperature is definitely climbing.

His amber eyes pin you with another look, his lips twitching into a small smile. "However, if Cassian is giving you trouble, I would be happy to provide a smoother ride."

You flounder for a moment. You don't want to get anyone in trouble.

"I— he's not giving me trouble," You stammer.

Azriel smiles a little wider as if he can tell how polite you're trying to be. He slows to a meander and you realise only after you walk past him, it's because Sergei has stopped himself, turning down one of the many aisles.

You skid yourself to a halt and turn back, praying your flaming face isn't as obvious as it feels. You're not entirely sure if Azriel is accompanying you today but you're sure that Sergei would've mentioned it if he was.

You dip your head in a strange, awkward bow motion. Then point to the aisle Sergei disappeared into.

"I'll be... going this way."

Azriel's smile grows, like you've told a joke, and he ducks his head. He peers up at you through his dark lashes and you wonder if anyone's ever told him how damn beautiful he is. Probably. You're probably the last in a long line of people. Mother, his eyes though.

"If you don't wish to make the hike the other way," He murmurs.

He extends one of his hands and you watch the dozen shadows swarm around it, one of them separating from the pack to dive to the ground. It shoots forward and spins around your ankle, almost happily. "Just let the shadow know. I would be happy to assist."

When you look back up, he’s already gone without a sound. You try not to look so surprised— you’ve seen someone winnow before but you’re almost certain that the way Azriel moved about silently was something else altogether.

“Y/n!” Sergei’s voice echoes down the shelves, reminding you that you’re still late. You throw a quick glance around to check but it's fruitless; you can’t see the Shadowsinger anywhere.

You turn and bustle down the aisle quickly, not wanting to keep Sergei any longer. It takes only a second to notice the sole, black shadow that dances along behind you.

Guess you have company.

—

Okay, so, the shadows are definitely their own little guys.

Mainly because you can’t imagine how Azriel would be controlling them when he’s nowhere in sight.

And this one shadow is being awfully helpful.

The first time you drop your quill, knocking it to the ground as you lean over one of the many intricately carved desks, trying to reach another book, you don’t even notice it fall to the ground.

In fact, you have no idea how many times it’s picked up your fallen quill that you’ve undoubtedly knocked over countless times— only that it had given you the fright of your life to have it hover before your face, gripped only by the wispy shadow Azriel left with you.

“Holy shit!” You gasp, your loud voice echoing in the quietness of the library.

Sergei's head whips up, his eyes narrowing at the intruding sound with evident disapproval. You quickly snatch the quill out of mid-air and sink down in your seat. Gods, the echoes in here were doing you no favours.

“Sorry,” You whisper. Your eyes dart down to the shadow that retreated to your side, flickering around your ankle more wildly. “Er, thanks.”

It feels a bit silly to give thanks to something you’re not sure can hear you. But you figure if it can pick up your quill, you're better off using your manners.

Sergei gives you a somewhat bewildered look and you try to appease him with an awkward smile. It works enough for him to continue his work but not without one more lingering glance of worry in your direction. Great. You're talking to shadows and your old-man mentor thinks you're a bit nuts.

The shadow continues its helpful endeavours, following you when you head down different aisles at Sergei's request. It dances across the shelves, dissolving occasionally just to puff back up somewhere else, pulling your attention this way and that. It's playful. Friendly.

You deduce by the end of the day that you know even less about Shadowsinger's than you had thought. The abilities and personality of just one shadow are uncanny; like a silent friend keeping you company. You imagine that Azriel rarely gets lonely with as many as he has. Maybe you'll ask him.

When Sergei and you wind back up the staircases and he dismisses you for the evening, heading into the city for his own further business, you stand at the mouth of the library and ponder if you'll be brave enough to summon the Shadowsinger.

The shadow is still with you, circling your wrist absently. You peer down at it and think of all those stairs. Somewhat nervously, you raise your hand and try to be as casual as possible about talking to a shadow on your hand.

"Hi." You start, trying not to feel foolish. "Um, well, I guess I'm done for the day. Could— could you, if he's not busy that is, uh, let Azriel know? I don't mind waiting if he is."

The shadow zips off barely before you can finish your sentence and your head swings to watch it go, disappearing somewhere to your left.

You can't help but be a little amazed at its speed—it must be an incredible networking system to have a thousand little spies running around for you. No wonder almost all Shadowsingers tend to end up in the same line of work, you think to yourself, still peering in the direction of the shadow when—

"Y/n."

Even though he's said your name soft and quiet, Azriel still manages to take you by surprise. You jump and turn, all in one motion.

"Mother!" Your hand holds over your chest, relief curling in at the sides as your fright ebbs away. "That was fast."

"You called," Azriel responds, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. He gives you an almost shy smile.

It makes you fluster a bit and you gesture to the exit awkwardly and wordlessly, if only so you don't have to come up with a response to his intense and endearing answer.

Together, you wander out from the library and creep towards the edge of Velaris. It's a beautiful city and more than deserving of its title, especially when viewed from the House of Wind. You turn and cast your eyes up the mountainside, your familiar nervous fear pitching up from your stomach.

Then you look at the warrior beside you, tall enough that he's got what feels like more than a head's height on you, with his wings reaching above even his own head. His jaw is sharp and his eyes are already on you as your gaze trails up his face. Fuck. He's really pretty.

Now you're nervous for an entirely different reason.

"We can still take the stairs if you wish," He says, his hand sweeping back to the path you had followed along this morning. His shadows move with his hands, a black vortex that whirls around and around. "I'd be more than happy to keep you company."

Mother, he's not helping you in the slightest, being so perfectly nice to you. You regard the stairs and think back to how many hours it took before your thighs stopped aching—and that was on the way down.

"No, we can- we can try flying again." You say, nodding to yourself as if it'll help quell your fear. It takes another moment to realise that means you'll be bundled up in his strong arms, held against his broad chest and you feel a little shiver run through your body at the thought.

Azriel notices it too, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "You're sure?" He checks.

You nod, not meeting his eyes, trying to keep your nerve. Flying is already something you're not keen on. Flying whilst being swept up in the arms of a Shadowsinger who you think is the most beautiful Fae you've ever seen? You send a silent prayer to the Mother that you don't do something embarrassing, like puking down his front.

"Let me know if you're uncomfortable at any time," He says softly and then he bends his knees slightly, one of his scarred hands resting on your lower back as the other scoops beneath your knees. He lifts you as though you weigh nothing.

It's impossible not to flush as you get nestled against his firm chest, your hands panicking for a moment as you try to think of a normal place to put them. Around his neck? On his chest? Either of them feels far too intimate for a man you've known only a week.

"You don't have to but I would suggest holding on," Azriel comments with a smile, his chest vibrating with the words. You nod, agreeing with him, but don't make a move to do so, only holding your hands out in front of you to indicate you're not sure where to put them.

The shadows adorning his shoulders move on their own, their friendly presence easing your nerves as they slither down to circle around your wrists. There's a gentle tug and you let them move your hands til they're wrapped around Azriel's neck, moving you much closer in the process.

Gods, your faces are close together. Another couple of inches and you could probably press your lips to his perfect ones—a thought that makes you fluster all over again. Was he getting prettier every time you saw him? For not the first time, you thank the Mother that it was Rhys with the daemaeti gift and not Azriel.

"Ready?" He checks, which is sweet. Cassian had just shot up into the sky the first time, without any warning.

You grip your arms around his neck a little tighter and then nod. "Ready," You say, quieter than intended.

You catch just a moment of Azriel's demure smile, your heart swooping at the sight, before you're both launched into the sky with one flap of his wings.

The noise that escapes you is one you're less than proud of, a squawky sound noise of panic that you bury into Azriel's neck. You expect him to laugh like Cassian had, not meanly but playfully, but instead Azriel's arms just tighten around you. As if he was assuring you that he would not let you fall.

By the time you're up at the House of Wind, Azriel making a far more graceful descent than his brother, you're less freaked out and more ready to point some accusatory fingers in the face of the Night Court's General.

That bastard had been fucking with you! The flight with Azriel proved as much, considering how much calmer and smoother it had been. You couldn't help but say as much as you were placed down from Azriel's hold, glad to be back on solid ground.

"I have some words for Cassian, Mother above," You ramble, straightening out your rumpled clothes from the flight. "Did he think I was kidding when I said I was afraid?"

Azriel smiles at your fieriness, his shadows calmer than they were in flight, moving about lazily. His eyes take a fleeting glance at the house behind you before focusing intently back on you.

"Cassian can have a strange sense of humour at times. He means well." He says. Then he grins. "I should like to see you tell him off— not enough people do."

You hmph. "Maybe I will."

You suddenly realise the closeness between you and Azriel, close enough to feel the warmth of his body. His scent of cedar and mist swirls around you, tantalizing and alluring in a way you've never known before. You take a step back to contain yourself.

"I—uh, well, thank you very much." You say, as sweet as you can. "For the ride."

Your eyes catch on one of his dozen shadows and you smile, observing them for a moment. "And the shadow. It was excellent company."

Azriel brightens, an expression of surprise crossing his face before he schools it away. He smiles, brazen and breathtaking. When he speaks, he sounds a little disbelieving. "You like them?"

You nod quickly, noticing how one of his shadows has snuck off again and circulates your ankle speedily. You laugh at the ticklish feeling of it against your skin.

"They're incredible." You breathe, meaning every word. "I imagine you must've ge—"

"Apologies, y/n." A smooth voice cuts in, Rhys stepping up somewhere behind you and stealing both of your attention. He dressed in more casual clothes than you last saw, but not quite Azriel's fighting leathers. "Azriel here is needed for some brief business. Do you mind if I borrow him?"

The way he poses the question, as if Azriel is yours, does something wonky to your heart. You flounder for a moment, stepping back and waving your hand in the direction of the Shadowsinger.

"Of- of course, by all means." You trip over the words and hope you don't sound too eager to escape his company. That couldn't be more untrue.

You turn back to Azriel and fix him with a smile, hoping it's not as nervous as you feel. "I'll... see you around?"

Azriel steals a glance to the side where Rhys awaits before he nods with another reserved smile. Hold on, is that pink on his cheeks?

"Let me know if you need any more help getting to and from the library. I'd be happy to assist."

And then with a quick nod to you, he walks off to join Rhys, his wings tucked in tight, careful to not nudge you. You watch them go, unable to stop yourself from letting your eyes wander down. Damn, all that training did wonders. What was that saying? Hate to watch 'em go, love to watch them leave.

Ahead, Rhys abruptly laughs and peers back over his shoulder, letting you exactly how well you had shielded those thoughts. You flush and scurry into the house as if it'll save you from the embarrassment of what's just happened. You only hope he won't pass the message on to Azriel.

—

It continues like that for the rest of the week.

Azriel carries you down the height of the mountain and leaves you with a promise that if you need anything, you can tell the shadow and he'll come to find you.

The shadow keeps its usual playful company. Beyond retrieving your dropped quills, it helpfully turns the pages of books for you. When you're focused on what you're writing, it nudges back any loose strands of hair. Once it even brings you a flower from Mother knows where. One single Lily of the Valley, left resting on your desk.

It makes you wonder; are all Shadowsinger's shadows like this? You can't help but imagine these niceties are shaped by Azriel's own soft nature.

Today, whilst you study in the vast caverns of the library, you get an unexpected visitor.

As you take your time scanning through the books in one of the vast aisles, you realise the Fae coming down from the other end of the aisle is none other than the Highlady herself.

"Feyre!" You greet warmly. The two of you had met before when she had taken duties in your home court and if it weren't too bold, you'd say you consider yourself good friends. Feyre smiles, glowing like moonlight, as she realises who it is.

"Y/n," She says your name sweetly and her hug is just as such. She pulls away, ready to inquire about your studies when she spots the trailing shadow behind you.

"Making friends, I see," She comments. Her eyebrows raise almost teasingly as if she's made a certain insinuation. You take a moment to notice what she's referencing.

"It's nice," You say, a defensive lilt to your tone. You hold out your hand and the shadow jumps at the opportunity to skitter around it playfully. "It's like a little friend."

Feyre smiles at your words but chuckles a little. "Except Azriel is anything but little."

You pause at her words, glancing down at the shadow and back up at Feyre. "What do you mean? I thought— they're not- I mean, aren't they...?”

You trail off, unsure of how to word the question you're trying to ask. Feyre smiles, her gray eyes glittering with mirth as she realises what you're figuring out.

"They're all his. Azriel's. He controls them." She tilts her head a bit, watching the shadow that drifts about your hand and wrist. "True, they roam a bit on their own but... Not like this."

"Oh," You murmur, thinking back to that first day in the library.

The playful shadow that lead you back and forth, picking up your quill and turning your pages. It was him, all along.

Something immeasurably warm starts to glow in your chest, a thread that loops through your heart and sends the valves into overdrive. Its warmth grows, something molten hot beginning to bleed in your chest— and it feels wonderful. It feels right.

"Oh," You gasp as you figure it out.

Feyre grins, watching you piece together what the rest of the inner circle has clued together from the very first day. She stands to the side and gestures to the entrance of the library with a tilt of her head.

"Go on then," She urges you.

For a moment, you think back to Sergei who sent you hunting for a certain manuscript Cauldron knows how long ago but the thought is washed away in an instant. You can feel it now, the strong tug in your chest. The connection that binds you to another.

You stride past Feyre, giving a quick thanks! and all but run up the spiral staircases, heading for the entrance. The shadow pings along with you and as you near the top, you look down at it and say through huffed breaths, "You better go get him."

He's waiting by the time you get there.

Against the setting sun, for a moment there's only the silhouette of him— a warrior with tall wings, the edges of him rippling like a mirage. He might just be one; an oasis in your life, the answer that you've been searching for for centuries. You can't believe you didn't notice.

Your footsteps echo on the marble as you march right up to him and Azriel watches you closely the whole time, his amber eyes soft but his expression hinting at his nervousness. Gods, he's wonderful. You can't believe he gets to be yours and you get to be his.

"How long have you known?" You ask because it's the first thing on your mind. You're nearly panting from the exhilaration of your sudden exercise, from the dawning future that's blooming right in front of you. He's your mate. Gods, how could you have missed it?

Azriel smiles, that same tentative one that's been driving you crazy all week. His wings give a little shake behind him, a giveaway of his nerves.

"I... suspected from the beginning." He chooses his words carefully, wary of how you might respond.

You can't help your little gasp, feeling even more of a fool. You curse, ducking your head before you glare back up at him, no real heat in your gaze. You have the urge to give him a little shove, just for keeping you in the dark.

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

One of his shadows spins up unexpectedly, dancing across your shoulders and tickling your cheeks gently. You startle in surprise but something sweeter curls up in your chest at the tenderness of its touch.

"Believe me," Azriel says with a quiet chuckle, his amber eyes darting over your face intensely. "I've been trying."

You melt. Eyes locked with his, you move slowly, letting your arms drift up to drape around his neck like they've done every morning and evening since he began flying you around. You realise acutely that Cassian's behaviour, his shoddy flying, had likely been on purpose. You laugh a little, eyes creasing shut in pure euphoria.

Azriel's hands find your waist and you can feel the slight tremble in them.

"In my defense," You murmur, pushing up on your toes. You're close, so close, your lips hovering just an inch from a kiss—his shadows go wild around you both. It makes you grin. "I had never met a Shadowsinger before."

"Yeah?" Azriel breathes shakily. "Disappointed?"

He says it like a joke but you can hear the note of sincerity in his tone. His hidden worry that he isn't all you dreamed of. It's nearly laughable how wrong he is.

This close you can see his long lashes and every shade of brown in his eyes. You wonder if you'll ever get used to how beautiful he is. Part of you hopes you never do.

"Not in the slightest," You say, nearly a whisper.

Then his lips are on yours, pillowy soft skin against yours, and it feels like coming home. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you til you're breathless and the glow in your chest could rival the sun in its warmth.

He kisses you and every atom in your body hums and fizzes and comes to life — and all you can do is hold him tight and kiss him back, just as fiercely.

Breaking the kiss to catch your breath, you pant and grin brazenly at Azriel, at your mate, happier than you've ever been. Faintly, you realise that you won't be heading home when the two months of your study are up after all.

Not when you have a man who looks at you so reverently, who kisses you like there's oxygen hidden in the plush of your lips, who holds you like there's nothing more precious in the world.

Not when you know that home is right here, in front of you.

#YIPPEE! written in like... 3 days #no editing less go #love it or leave it #a break from all the doom and gloom of wtssf #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger x you #sloane writes