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zepskies · 7 months

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How would Beau comfort reader who’s gotten home from work and is feeling overwhelmed and sooky? I’m in need of comfort my the cutie patootie pls and thank you beloved 🫶🥺

Hello, my love!

I know it's been a while since you requested this @chernayawidow, but I’m so sorry you’re feeling down. It’s my pleasure to fulfill this prompt for you! 😘💞

AN: This is sort of a sequel to “Didn’t Mean to Stay,” but can be read as a stand-alone.

Word Count: 3,000 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, lots of hurt/comfort, fluff, and feels.

Imagine: Beau gives you the support you need.

You heaved a sigh while climbing up the short flight of stairs to your apartment. Why the hell you decided to live on the second floor, you had no idea…

Okay, mainly for the safety aspect of being a single woman living alone, but at least for the past year, you hadn’t been all that single (or alone, for that matter).

Seeing Beau’s truck in the parking lot reminded you that your boyfriend was already home from work. It was rare that you got here after him, but you perked up a little.

I hope he got something for dinner. Your stomach began to rumble at even the first stray thought of food. After the ridiculous day you’d had, you’d happily eat your weight in just about anything.

A hearty sandwich, Chinese lo mien, a whopping burger with fries…hell, you’d eat a whole damn bag of pizza rolls. As long as it was hot and you didn’t have to cook it.

Once you managed to insert your key and unlock the apartment, immediately there was too much sound coming from the living room. Guns and blasting and whoops and hollers. It all grated on your ears and your frayed psyche.

You grimaced as you locked the door behind you.

“Are we being invaded?!” you called.

Mercifully, the cacophony ceased as you walked into the living room and found your boyfriend with a sheepish smile. On the TV was an old western classic, The Magnificent Seven.

Typical, you thought. Your Texan cowboy loved his westerns.

“Sorry. Too loud?” he asked.

“Just a touch,” you replied.

“Well, I’m glad you're home.” Beau nodded at the TV. “Was gonna ask you what your Netflix password is.”

“What, don’t tell me you settled for 1960s cowboys?” you quipped.

You dumped your purse on the coffee table and sunk onto the couch next to him. Beau slid an arm around your waist and pulled you in closer. You obliged by shucking off your shoes and resting against him, with your head on his shoulder. You let out a long sigh.

“Well, that was my fallback plan. See, damn Netflix booted me out and I’m really gearing up for that new season of Cake or Cake,” Beau said, with a somewhat childish smile that almost succeeded in tugging your lips upwards as well. Your brows drew together.

“Cake or…oh my God. You mean Is It Cake?” you asked. You nearly slapped yourself with your own hand as it came up to cover your eyes. Your shoulders shook with silent laughter.

“Ah, yeah. That one.” Beau grinned.

“I just can’t figure out how I keep guessing so wrong," he continued. "It looks like a hat. It should be a hat. How the hell is it actually cake? These guys are just so damn talented, I’ll tell ya. I mean, I’ve eaten my fair share of quality cake, but I ain’t never eaten a hat cake…though that does sound good to me, now that I think about it. Heh, I could finally say, ‘if that ain’t real, I’ll eat my own hat.’ And I’d actually be able to take a bite.”

Now, normally you found boyfriend’s diatribes incredibly endearing. Beau was a talker, and you appreciated having him with you at social gatherings. Not only was he great at connecting with people (something you very much admired), but the man was damn good at filling a silence.

Today, however, he was feeding the headache pulsing behind your eyes. You loved him dearly. Yet you were tempted to dig your nails into your own arm just to stop yourself from snapping at him to please, stop talking.

“Speakin’ of food, that reminds me. My stomach’s damn near ready to eat itself.” He eyed you. “What’s for dinner, baby?”

Your hand slid from your face and slapped onto your leg. Your head slowly turned to him.

“I don’t know, Beau. What’d you cook?” you said tartly.

It was an effort, considering how comfortable you were while tucked against him, but you moved his arm off your hip and lifted your heavy-feeling body off the couch. Shaking your head, you trudged a path over to your room.

You didn’t see it, but Beau frowned. Though you heard him follow after you. You did your best to go about your business, unbuttoning your pants and starting on your blouse. You were just so damn tired, and probably still anxious. Even your hands were trembling and fumbling with the buttons.

Still, you sensed him coming closer, saw his sock-covered feet out of the corner of your eye. The rest of him was comfortably dressed in sweatpants and a wool sweater you bought for him last month; he was getting better, but still acclimating to Montana winters.

“You’ve been here all this time,” you grumbled. “You see how late I’m coming in, and you don’t think, hey, my girl’s gonna be tired. Why don’t I figure out how to work the stove so she doesn’t have to worry about feeding my six-foot-ass, bottomless pit—”

Beau’s hands stilled yours, and he took over unbuttoning your blouse to help you. He bent his head enough to catch your eyes, smiling a little at your grumpy face.

“All right, all right. I see your point,” he said. “You had a bitch of day, huh?”

“The longest of my damn life,” you said. The stress of each moment played behind your eyes. So much that they stung with unshed tears when you raised your gaze to meet his.

Beau’s brows furrowed in sympathy. He paused in what he was doing to stroke your cheek and press a tender kiss to your forehead.

“And I wanna hear about it, but first, you go take a nice long shower,” he said. “What do you feel like eating?”

“Food,” you said petulantly. But he was being too sweet for you to be all that annoyed with him. A reluctant smile was growing across your lips. Beau smirked.

“You in the mood for Italian? Chinese? Maybe feeling a little adventurous and wanna try that Greek place down the street?” he suggested. “I think they deliver.”

By now he’d worked your blouse open. His hands were finding their way along the curve of your waist, smoothly across your skin, then meeting at the small of your back. He pressed the heel of one hand there, where he knew your shitty desk chair often made you ache.

You gripped his strong arms for support and leaned into him. You let out a sigh and rested your cheek against his chest, where he dropped another kiss on the top of your head.

“Greek sounds good, actually,” you confessed.

“Mmm, hell yeah. You want chicken, steak, or lamb on your gyro?” he asked. You felt the reverberation of his hum, and it was weirdly soothing. Though his question reminded you of one of your favorite movies that you too often quoted to him: My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

“What you mean he don’t eat no meat?” you said with a giggle. Beau’s lips moved to your forehead, and you felt the shape of his smile.

“It’s okay, I make lamb,” you both said together.

He chuckled and held you a bit tighter, secure and comforting. “All right. Lamb it is…you think they got cake on the menu?”

When you laughed, it was muffled by his sweater.

After a hot shower, good food, and three episodes of Is It Cake later, you were falling asleep on your corner of the couch.

All through dinner, Beau had listened to you vent about your day. About the problems your coworkers had hoisted on you to solve in the midst of a massive project you were already tackling. How your boss then blamed you for not coming to her first before you overloaded yourself, and how you’d very seriously contemplated going to HR before you figured just dealing with it would cause you less grief in the end.

Your boyfriend listened and gave his two cents, both supportive and fair. That was another thing you liked about him; he was always fair.

Now, he roused you out of your drowsy state when his arms wrapped around your frame and lifted you up.

You whined in protest. “Whaaat? Don’t move me.”

“Nope, you’re goin’ to bed,” he said, in his sheriff’s voice that boded no argument. You grumbled, but you still snuggled closer to his chest and pressed your sleepy face into his neck.

Smirking, he walked you into the bedroom and laid you down on your side of the bed. He came to your place often enough that he now had his own side, complete with his own nightstand and a couple of drawers of your dresser, even a bit of closet space.

You really should’ve just told him to move the hell in already, but you weren’t like Beau. He was a man of action. He processed things quickly and made decisions just as fast. His job demanded him to be that way.

You tended to drag your feet. You also tended to worry, and weigh pros and cons, and you were cautious by nature. Even dating this man had been a slow process, for which he’d been very patient with you. (And you with him, especially in the beginning as he learned to open up to you.)

The evidence was plain to see, as he raised the blankets and helped you roll underneath them. You just took him by surprise when you grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled him down with you.

“Hey!” he laughed. He had to brace himself against the mattress before he crushed you. His knees fell on either side of your hips while your arms twined around his neck.

“You’re a wily one, even half-asleep,” he remarked. You smiled and threaded your fingers through his soft brown hair.

“Like a rattlesnake in the tall grass,” you teased. In fairness, the two of you had gotten into watching David Attenborough's nature documentaries.

Beau’s brows raised, his smile deepening.

“Oh yeah? Better not mess around then,” he chuckled. “I might just get bit.”

You snorted. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You leaned up until your lips were nearly brushing his. Beau’s eyes lowered to your face, taking in all the things that felt more like home than his little trailer near the woods.

Just before you would’ve closed the small breadth of distance, you veered away from his mouth and went for his neck instead. He even flinched at the tease of your teeth playfully biting him.

"You little vixen!" He laughed deeply as he unwound your arms from his neck. He pinned you down to the bed and pressed his hips down into yours over the sheets. But it was his claiming lips that stopped you from fighting back.

Your shoulders trembled with giggles that he swallowed up, kiss after kiss. Your eyes closed as he dragged the sheets down away from your body. His hands caressed you through your thin tank top, brushing over a hardened nipple with the back of his hand, then squeezing your breast through the fabric.

You sighed into his mouth. “I know I kind of started this, but I’m really tired, baby…”

“Who says you gotta do anything?” rumbled his rich voice.

A tremor of heat ran through you. Even with your eyes closed, your exhausted body responded to his touch. His lips drew a hot, wet path down your neck, all while his hands did sinfully good things, sliding under your tank top and gliding against your skin. You let him take it all the way off, followed by your pajama pants and cotton panties, though he paused to squeeze your ass in appreciation.

“Someone’s been doing squats,” he noted, grinning down at you.

“Nah, just an extra slice of that honey cake,” you retorted. Apparently, the Greeks liked honey on everything.

Beau’s head tilted. “Huh. Well, I do like me some cake.”

You laughed, then jolted with a yelp when he slapped a bare cheek.

But you couldn’t just lay idle when he started on his own clothes. You sat up and helped him raise the sweater up and over his shoulders, but he stopped you.

“I mean it. You just lie back and relax,” he said, giving you a charming grin. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes; he was just too damn good to you.

While he finished taking off the sweater, your hands drifted down to the waistband of his pants. You caressed the hardening length of him, earning a hiss and a groan from him.

“Can’t I just…” you tried.

With difficulty, Beau grabbed your wrist. He raised a brow at you and guided you back down.

“For once, I’m ‘a need you to listen to me,” he said, kissing your cheek and then the other side of your neck.

You breathed a laugh, but it caught on a moan as his fingers brushed through your wet folds. He made a sound of approval. And those nimble fingers gathered some of your wetness and began circling slowly over your clit.

You sucked in a breath and arched against him. You even whimpered a little as his free hand wound through your hair, giving him further access to your neck. He hummed against your skin and grazed his teeth under your ear.

“I gotcha, baby. Whenever you need it,” he said, low and steady. You gripped his arms for dear life as two of his fingers slipped deep inside you. You panted into his neck, rocked your hips mostly in time with his fingers as they twisted and pulsed around your tightening walls. His thumb rubbed against your throbbing clit.

“Please,” you whispered into his neck, squeezing your eyes shut. “Want you inside me.”

“We’re gettin’ there,” Beau nodded. He was breathing harder too, just from anticipation. The sounds you were making, the way you were squeezing his hand from the inside had him painfully hard.

“Now,” you insisted. Your hands moved to grip his hair, and your lips met his in a devouring kiss.

Beau matched your passion with closed eyes and furrowed brows. He’d had a plan for you at the start of this, but what kind of man would he be if he didn’t abide by your wishes?

So he withdrew his fingers from your slick pussy, even though you uttered a shuddering breath. It took everything you had within you to remain still and resting against the pillows as you caught your breath. You wanted to wrestle down his sweatpants yourself and show your boyfriend how appreciative you could be.

But you also appreciated what he was trying to do. You watched him with tired, but still hungry eyes as he kicked off the pants and the boxer briefs and returned to you, bracing a forearm above your head after he spread your legs and raised up your knees.

He lowered himself between the warm cradle of your thighs and kissed down your chest, licked between the valley of your breasts.

You arched up again when his tongue found your nipple, swirling around it, and finally taking it between his teeth. His hips rolled against yours, making his cock press against your core teasingly.

“Beau, for the love of God,” you moaned.

He chuckled. “Maybe you oughta learn how to be patient.”

You grabbed his bearded face between both hands and raised him up to you. He noted your challenging brow, but also your smile.

“Maybe you shouldn’t tease the rattlesnake,” you replied.

Beau laughed and ducked his forehead against yours. “Okay, darlin’. I’m sorry.”

He nosed at your cheek, angling for a kiss. You tipped your head back and welcomed his lips, especially when his tongue slipped past to tangle with yours. His forearm was braced above your head, but his free hand left your hip to line himself up to your entrance.

Another shudder went through your body as he finally slid home inside you. The shape and feeling of his cock was familiar as it stretched your inner walls, and you caught his moan in your mouth.

Your legs wrapped around his hips and squeezed, forcing him in deeper. His eyes screwed shut as he lost focus for a moment. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of the feeling of you, or the sound of your voice, or the way you trusted him, but still tried to give as much as you took.

He pulled out nearly all the way, slowly sliding back in so you’d feel every inch. You clenched on him as a tremble ran through your body.

You uttered a broken gasp of his name that spearheaded goosebumps across his skin. And his next movements were faster, though just as deep.

He followed the encouragements of your voice, especially when he shifted his hips at an angle he knew would make you writhe. His fingers stroking your already sensitive clit, in time with his last wild thrusts, had you threatening to rip out a chunk of his hair. Instead, you gasped in his ear and dug your fingers into his hips.

His own release followed yours shortly after; he could only resist you squeezing the life out of him from the inside out for so long. And you held him afterwards, even though he still had a trembling arm braced above you.

Your hands smoothed up and down his back, trailing lightly with your nails. His breath was hot, but not uncomfortable against your neck.

You felt absolutely boneless as your legs slid from his hips. He pulled out of you soon after, but your embrace kept him from moving very far. He rested on his side, and you turned towards him. You both knew you’d have to deal with the sheets and the cleanup, but not just yet.

You carded your fingers more soothingly through his hair and drew his face back to yours.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered. And you didn’t just mean in this bed. “I haven’t had that in a long time.”

Beau’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “You don’t gotta thank me for that.”

“Yeah, I do,” you nodded. Your lips formed a tired smile before they pressed softly to his. “I love you.”

Beau took a moment to brush a sweaty strand of hair away from your face. He’d believed in second chances before he met you…just not for himself. Meeting you made him swear by them.

“Love you too,” he said.

And the warmth of that bone-deep knowledge was more satisfying than even the heftiest slice of cake.

AN: God, I love Beau. I miss Big Sky. 😭 But feel free to let me know what you think of this one! It's only my second time, but I really do love writing this guy. ❤️

And tell me...are you team cake 🍰 or team pie 🥧?

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@lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @waters-2567

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#Beau Arlen imagine #Beau gives you the support you need #big sky #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x you #Beau Arlen smut #fluff #hurt/comfort #zepskies writes

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 7 months

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Hi hi babe!!!!

Ugh I'm so happy that you're request inbox is open hehe cause you know me

So I have a thot and was wondering if you could whip something up for me based on the lyrics of art deco by the one and only lana

(A little party never hurt no one

Not you and me

A little party never hurt no one

We were born to be free)

With of course Matty and some smut with it please? Love you babe 💗💗💗

my pumpkin hi!! okay so I got a little sidetracked and kinda went off course a bit, I sorta based the beginning part literally of those lyrics, and kinda did a bit of an age gap, I know im sorry!! couldn’t help myself, but suits bc it’s our queen, lana, right?? I made it a little longer than planned, but only bc I love you. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

—

friday’s

matt murdock x f!reader

word count: 1240

warnings: 18+ readers only!! mention of an age gap, cunnilingus. mdni

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

As you're a little younger than Matt - a few substantial years younger - you were in different phases of your lives, nothing drastic. You just liked to spend your weekends getting blackout drunk at the nearest club, whereas your boyfriend, Matt, enjoyed a quiet night in with a takeout dinner.

When your free time coincides- usually weekends, you'd spend time together. You'd take turns to pick said activity, allowing for a fair game. Considering you picked last weekend, it was now Matt's turn to choose, and to no surprise, it was the same as all the other countless weekends.

You're both sprawled out on the sofa, laying lazily against each other after your overindulgence from the local Chinese restaurant, cartons cluttering the coffee table. You peek up to look at Matt, a subtle smile on your face as you rest your chin on his chest. "Wanna go out?"

"Out? Sweetheart, we just ate," he grins in his usual way, shaking his head in amusement. "Don't you think it's a little late?" he asks, entertaining you.

"Never too late," you perk up, an excited smile on your face. "That's not a 'no'. Come on, a little party never hurt no one."

"No, sweetheart," he chuckles, tightening his grip as if to pull you back to him. "It's my turn, remember?"

"You’re so boring," you mumble, prodding his ribs with a pointed finger.

"Aw, I'm sorry," he plays along, teasing you. "Was I too hard on you?"

You hum in agreement, trailing over his chest with a featherlight touch. "Yeah. Uncalled for."

"That so?" he asks, his voice low and quiet, almost like he was trying to lure you.

“Mh-hm," you nod, still playful as you sit up, slipping from his grasp. "I think I'm going to sit in the other room now."

Matt catches on instantly- well, he knew from the start, but he'd never admit that to you. He found it endearing when you thought you could trick him, how your heart jumps a few beats when you tease him or how your breathing quickens when you lie. He knew you well, and he knew these teasing mind games you loved to play- every single one.

And right now, you were playing his favourite one of all. The one where you pout and pretend to be in a mood to get what you want. It was always harmless and playful on your behalf, never any intended malice. You enjoyed how he'd hang onto what you say and anticipate what you want, like you had him around wrapped around your finger.

Though, it was often more than that. You liked to work Matt up, get him so bothered that he had to do something about it- do something to you about it. But sometimes, you forgot who Matt is. And as much as he loved to be teased by you, there was only so much he could take, especially with a rock hard cock between his legs.

"I think you want to stay in," he smiles down at you, the corners of his pretty lips twitching with suggestive thought.

"No, I wanna go out," you lie, protesting your non-existent ground. "I can just call my friends if you're not gonna give me what—"

A firm yet gentle tap on the ass cuts you off. "Are you telling me I don't give you what you want?" Matt faintly asks, adjusting himself so you are in his place, your back against the couch with him hovering atop. "Do I not give you what you want?" he whispers, closing the space between you, grazing your lips with his own. "Is that true, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," you pathetically oppose once more, shamelessly lying to a blind catholic.

He tuts, lingering against your lips before pulling away, teasing you the way you do him. "Okay then." He nods, slowly lifting himself from you.

You snake your arms around Matt's neck, pulling and guiding him back to you. "No— no, okay, okay, okay," you mutter, speaking rushed. "I lied… I lied," you whisper, speaking just as whiney and pathetically as earlier. You shimmy your hips, adjusting to wrap your legs around him, your knees hugging his hips. "I'm sorry— I'm sorry I lied."

He coos, a subtle proud smile slapped on his face. "I thought so," he lowers back to you and hesitantly brushes over your lips, making you wait for it.

Matt finally encaptures them, working over them with slight vigour. One hand settles on your waist, the other around your throat, guiding you and deepening the kiss.

He parts from your swollen lips, trailing a hurried line of brash kisses along your jaw and down the base of your throat, his hand pawing at your lounge shirt, eagerly trying to rid the fabric. He succeeds, hastily removing the garment over your head, his mouth immediately attaching to your bare chest, lazily licking over your stiffened nipples.

He slides down you, trailing sloppy kisses between the valley of your tits and down your stomach, halting when he reaches the waistband of your pyjama bottoms. He lingers soft, flutter-like kisses over your abdomen- ones that mimic the feeling in your lower belly.

His focus lowers, as does his roughened palm- fingers grazing over your hips until they snake into the band of fabric, easing the loungewear down and over your thighs, all the way off your ankles.

"Perfect," he mutters against your warm and exposed thigh, trailing a string of kisses up to the crease, pausing when he reaches the outline of your underwear. "I think we should stop here— call it a night." He teases, speaking softly against your covered pussy, almost whispering to it.

"Matt," you warn, fingers digging into the swole of his shoulders. "Don't do that. It's not funny."

"It is," he chuckles into the pool of sweetness between your legs, the action making you twitch. "Needy little thing, hm?"

"Shut up," you reply breathlessly, winding your hips into his face, desperately trying to refocus him. "Please," you pant, playing with his hair, guiding him back to where you want him. "Come on."

Another amused chuckle slips past his lips before he finally slips down the wet piece of fabric that is your underwear. He adjusts his weight, stomach pressed flat against the sofa as he nestles his face between your legs, his arms hooking around your thighs.

He lightly exhales over your sensitive nub, breathing over it before eventually caving in, delicately kissing around the touch-starved mound. His movements are slow and confident as he trails over your folds, briefly sucking on them before continuing lower. He knew his way around a pussy, and wanted you to soak up every single tingle he was making you feel.

He lays his tongue flat against you, slowly licking up through your slit as if to savour your flavour on his tongue. "Taste so pretty, sweetheart," he hazily praises, his words loose and sluggish as he delves deeper into you, mumbling into your folds about how good you taste, already drunk off you.

Matt leisurely swipes over you, kissing and nibbling your cunt like he had all the time in the world- and maybe he did. Maybe he wanted to work you up and make you pay for all your teasing and petty games. And maybe, just maybe, this was his idea of spending the weekend together- Chinese food and cunnilingus on the couch.

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

this is so shit omg, I got bored reading and editing it🙃I don’t think I did your idea justice babe!?

matt taglist: @hailey-murdock @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @redecoratestan @kpopgirlbtssvt @scarletsloveletter @princess-pebbles-things @messymissy @schneeflocky @readerhead @thegreengoop @charmedkim @queerponcho @selfryed

#request #this is fucking ass omg #matt murdock #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock imagine #matthew murdock smut #matthew murdock #matthew murdock x you #daredevil

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formosusiniquis · 1 month

Text

Am I the Asshole?

Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington; Robin Buckley/Original Female Character(s); Steve Harrington/Original Character(s); Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WC: 6052 | Rated: T | Tags: Modern AU, Reddit AU, Some AITA typical terrible people, QPR Steve & Robin, NB Steve, NB Robin AKA the Stobin AITA fic

r/AmITheAssshole u/HufflepuffHero94 9yrs ago AITA for being concerned about my girlfriends living situation?

Context: My (20F) girlfriend (18F) is amazing. She's a polyglot linguistics major, speaks three languages fluently and she's completely self-taught, a genius basically. We go to the same college (Midwestern Liberal Arts college) where we met in the marching band. Now R, my girlfriend, is from a small town. Like the kind of small town that they make jokes about in sitcoms, she isn't really online (so I'm not worried about her seeing this) because she claims they didn't even have the internet until she was in high school. She isn’t really “out” because of this. It’s like she lives in this semi-closeted space like some kind of TV queerbait character. It's not really a problem, I mean she’ll tell people we’re dating if they ask and all of our marching band friends know but when I ask about it she says it’s because it wasn’t really safe in her hometown growing up. But it’s 2014 not 1980…

Even though R is a freshman she’s in special accommodations. Instead of living in the dorms like the school usually requires she’s got a small, studio apartment just off of campus. A perk considering how awful living in the dorms is. R is a pretty private person and super studious. Most of our dates have been in the library or a study date at the coffee place on campus. She’s not big on PDA, she says she’s trying to get better at it but she’s still only sort of out and I’m her first real girlfriend. I was psyched when she asked me if I wanted to go with her to her apartment to study, said her best friend had a never fail study method that she was eager to try (and when she told me what it was I was pretty eager too).

R can’t drive, so when I pull into the parking lot of her complex she notices something and says her roommate hasn’t left for work yet. I’m a little confused because like I said she lives in a studio apartment, but she just brushes it off and says something about asshole parents and this being what they could afford when some money fell through. She’s sent me snaps from her place, so I know it’s pretty cozy so I tell her it’s fine. Obviously I’m concerned about what the set up is going to be like when we get up there but she insists that dingus (her words) will only be there for another couple minutes before they have to leave for work and that Stevie (again her words) is her best friend in the world. They moved here together from the same small town or something.

To give R credit, she’s definitely done the best she can with the space. When I walked it it definitely felt as homey as it does in her pictures. The door opened up into the kitchen and living room and she’s got those spaces divided off from the beds with one of those Chinese paper divider thingies. Anyway to make a long story short it turns out her roommate and best friend Stevie is actually a whole dude (19). He comes out, gives her a look and asks her if “us girls are planning a sleepover” and if he should make himself scarce for the evening. R says she doesn’t give him shit when his “special friends” come over and after that I kinda stopped listening. I slipped off into the apartment looking for the bathroom and that’s when I saw how their “bedroom” was set up. Twin beds INCHES apart, they might as well be sharing the same one.

Here’s where I might be the asshole. When her “friend” finally cleared out I told her the truth. I didn’t know how comfortable I was hanging out in her place where she lives with a guy. I do live in the dorms but I’ve got a single right now. I asked her to move in with me so she wouldn’t have to be in this situation. I guess it maybe sounded like I was dissing her friend, which I was but I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I just think it’s weird that she won’t come out to anyone and is also living with some guy! I told her I wasn’t interested in being an experiment and if things were serious then she would want to move in with me.

That’s when she kicked me out and called me an asshole. But really I don’t think I’m being a dick for being concerned that she might just be jerking me along while she plays lesbian so she can tell her boyfriend about it at home. Even if nothing is going on I'm just worried that living in this kind of environment isn't safe for her. I mean this guy is probably just pretending to be her friend to get in her pants, I think the fact that they're from the same small town means she can't see that. I really think she would be better off if she moved into the dorms with me aita?

u/otpsnotbrotps NTA

u/foreplayisntreal NTA guys and girls can't be friends. If she even is a lez and a katy perry wannabe then roomie is just biding his time til she's ready to be converted

Read the rest on AO3

#stobin month 2024 #day 10 modern #steve and robin #platonic stobin #it's still day 10 somewhere shhh i know it's late #minor steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #my fic #stobin fic #stranger things fic

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clazaries · 12 days

Text

The Thin Line Between Victory and Survival NSFW!

(Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!soldier!reader)

Summary: Having been newly promoted, your first mission with Delta Force goes wrong and you have to deal with the consequences of going against Santiago's orders

w/c: 6.6k

Warnings: NSFW! war environment, slight knife play, masturbation (f!reader), oral (m!receiving), self-edging, orgasm denial, choking, dom!Santi, p in v, slight fluff at the end, think that's everything?

a/n: reader's callsign is 'Midge'. this takes place after the events of triple frontier but where the gang are still active members of Delta Force. I kinda imagined Santiago as Ghost from COD (cos daddy)

ENJOY!

***

“Frankie. Sit rep?”

“ETA 30 seconds. Sit tight.”

“Rog’.” Santi’s gravelly voice worms its way into your ear in harsh rumbles as you begin to take position at the edge of a sandy cliff, overwatching the vast desert valley ahead of you. His voice shakes the nerves inside you that are already on high alert. You remind yourself to turn down your comms when you can afford the chance. “Midge, how copy?”

You perk to attention at the sound of your nickname and respond accordingly. “Loud and clear, sir. In position. Eyes on Frankie.”

Towards the heart of the valley, Frankie’s distant figure calmly approaches the enemy-riddled farm under the cover of darkness and you watch with bated breath through a window of green. Directly ahead of you, even further away on the mirroring side of the valley is your superior Santiago “Pope” Garcia, providing overwatch just as you are. You can’t see him but you know he’s there, like a ghost lurking in the shadows. Even though you are just as concealed as he is, you have this disconcerting feeling that he’s very much capable of plucking you out, watching you.

You readjust yourself nervously.

It’s incredibly dark with nothing but the twinkling stars and Jupiter’s bright sparkle to keep anyone sane. Without the night vision goggles, you are a lost hope. They sit squarely on your nose, grinding the bone and encasing your eyes, and the sweat trickling down your neck is no home comfort either, but now is not the time to be complaining. You have a job to do.

Having been recently promoted for your sharp shooting and bright mind, you’re no longer an extra in someone else’s play, you’re the real deal now. You’re still taking orders no less, except now word doesn’t have to pass through at least three ranks above you like a game of Chinese Whispers before you receive the order.

Every mission is different but your response has always been the same: subdued nerves to begin, then before long, you’re in your element and the job gets done. However, this task in particular has your heart beating a little harder and you don’t sense it settling any time soon. The whole mission is unnerving. It’s just you, Frankie and Santiago, sent out into the middle of nowhere to retrieve controls for a weapon that’s been missing from the US government for three years. The very same that is currently being protected and fortified by an armada of Russian extremists. Every minute in between the initial briefing and your current breath has been spent quietly fretting about it.

This mission alone has introduced a lot of firsts for you; first time working with Delta Force rather than for, first time working off the grid, first time working in a squad with fewer than 5 comrades beside you, first time being completely and hopelessly outnumbered…

First time feeling extremely, extremely doubtful.

“Remember, this is a covert operation and completely off the grid so keep it quiet. Frankie, I want you in and out before they even get a whiff that you were ever there, and Midge--” you gulp, “keep Frankie alive.”

“Yes, sir.” You and Frankie’s voices ring through simultaneously. By now, Frankie has approached the back door of the barren barn, a large building that no doubt houses a number of enemies inside. Through your scope, you witness Frankie infiltrating the barn, his voice verbally confirming it seconds later. “I’m in. Going dark.”

“Copy that.”

The second you lose sight of him you take a hefty breath, letting it flood your lungs while the waiting game begins. From out here, there’s nothing you can do for him except warn him of any outside movements. As of right now, he’s on his own, doing what he does best.

“Stay sharp.”

You keep quiet on your side of comms, too paranoid to risk speaking unnecessarily. Instead, you keep your wits on what’s in front of you. There’s no movement, not even a breath of wind to shake the lonely tree that stands at the far end of the farm and it feels as though time has stood still. If it wasn’t for the mouse scuttling underneath your sniper stand, you would’ve thought so.

The little creature skips and hops over the rocks to your right, stopping every couple of seconds to clean the dust from its ears. Cute. You quirk a smile at the thought of something as simple as a mouse breaking the tension that’s riddling your bones. God knows you need it. Every fibre of your being is buzzing with uncertainty and the heavy nauseating feeling in your stomach is enough of a sign that something about this mission just isn’t right. Some would call it instinct, others would call it a load of rubbish, regardless, the feeling is there and you’re not willing to ignore it.

In all honesty, you would’ve carried out this mission entirely differently if you had the authority. But that’s the thing. You don’t. Outranked and out-experienced by the two men alongside you, you had no option but to play by their rules. Where you would’ve gone all-in, they chose to keep their cards close to their chests.

You never agreed with the idea that less is more. Not in the military.

Ten agonising minutes pass by. Nothing has been said and nothing warrants being said. Everything about you is screaming to point out the obvious; that something clearly isn’t going right. Frankie should’ve been out by now.

“I don’t like this. It’s too quiet. Nothing’s happening.”

Santiago instantly replies, a slight ring of chagrin evident in his tone. “Good. Means we haven’t been compromised.”

“Then why isn’t he out?”

“Patience, Midge. Keep focussed.”

You’re seconds away from overstepping boundaries and saying something you shouldn’t, but the moment you open your mouth, you spot a black vehicle off in the distance, quickly morphing into view as it speeds across the expanse of the valley with a plume of dust trailing behind it. It’s heading directly towards the farm.

“Be advised. Vehicle inbound coming in from the north. Pope, you see it?”

“Affirmative. Six Russians inside and likely armed. Do. Not. Engage. Frankie, get the hell on with it and get those controls.”

The vehicle approaches and screeches to a stop, the occupants immediately disperse from the vehicle with rifles in hand. Fear shoots through you, wide eyes pinned on the door Frankie entered through, desperate for it to open again and see Frankie escape but alas, no sign of him. “Come on, come on, come on…”

“Enemies heading towards the front entrance.”

“I’ve got a shot on two of them.”

“No. Stand down. Do not engage. They don’t know we’re here, we can’t draw attention to ourselves.” Pope’s voice rages through your earpiece again and you wince, both from his tone and volume.

“Why the fuck are we here then?”

“To prevent a ruckus from happening. If we engage, we’ll be the reason for it. Now shut up and keep your eyes peeled. Frankie, for Christ’s sake, you better have those controls.”

You listen intently for his voice, hoping that he’s succeeded and he’s on his way back, but when you hear a slight crackle, a groan and high-pitched frequency piercing through the comms, you assume the worst. Your heart stops dead in your chest when you hear a shot being fired, its echo carrying the weight of dread right to your position. “Fuck! Santi--”

“Frankie! Do you copy?”

Short, resounding booms resonate from the farm and you’re left with no doubt that Frankie’s position has been compromised, leaving his life and the controls to this weapon at stake. You can’t afford to lose both and you’re certain that Pope knows that too, so why isn’t he giving the order for backup?

“He needs help!”

“Stay put! I can’t risk losing two of you. This is Pope to Ironhead, how copy?”

You drown out William’s voice with worries of your own, constantly watching for signs of Frankie’s survival but to no avail, you find none. You knew this mission was never going to succeed. Your instinct was right. And based on that fact alone, what’s to stop you assuming that when your gut instinct is now telling you to go and extract Frankie and the controls yourself, it’s the right decision no matter what your orders are?

“Fuck this.” With haste, you pack up your equipment, whipping it over your shoulder with a new-found surge of adrenaline pumping through you. The hill you’re perched on isn’t tall, but it is steep, so as you run down the slope, your body falls faster than your legs can keep up. The howl of air blows past your ears and the clinking and clanking of your equipment rattles with each step. Even still with the cacophony of sounds, nothing can be louder than your boss’s rage.

“Midge! What the fuck are you doing? Get back to your position!”

You don’t bother responding because you’re too out of breath…and mostly because you’re shit scared. When you hear his voice again, you’re at the door Frankie entered through with a shaky hand holding your pistol and the other tightly gripping the handle.

“Midge, so help me God, if you take another step--”

“We can’t leave Frankie!”

“We don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“But we know the controls are in there, if we can’t get one, we’ll get the other.”

“NO! You get back here right fucking now!” The scratch of his growl descends down your body, making you curl your toes. Suddenly, a farm full of Russian extremists doesn’t seem to be your biggest threat…

“I’m going in.”

A grunted sigh crackles through the comms as Pope watches you push through the door into chaos.

“Just so you know, if you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.”

~~~~

Miraculously, you did exactly that. You survived. Not only did you extract Frankie’s beaten body and save his life, you also retrieved the controls before they got away. You can’t deny that the odds were slim and it did nearly cost both of your lives, but at the expense of breaking a few rules and a few bones, you made it. And you won’t apologise for a single bit of it sitting here in an unused briefing room with Santiago.

The tale of twists and turns didn’t end when you and Frankie both made it out alive only hours ago, in fact, it continues with Santi; a man with chains around his heart, a shield around his mind and a look of steel donning his face. It is fair to say his reputation precedes him, especially since his comrade Redfly died years ago. Before you met him officially, you had only ever heard of his emotionless gaze, his inhuman self-restraint and deeply enigmatic personality, and you found it strange that no one told you what it was like to be around him. Until Frankie told you that how you felt being in a room with him could not be explained through words, it was something you had to experience for yourself.

Frankie was right. You had to be there to see that he was stronger, colder, smarter, more intimidating than anyone had let on. His presence wasn’t one to be easily swallowed. It was obvious that strangers couldn’t settle the unease they felt when he walked into the room; cautious eyes, bitten lips, fidgeting muscles. They succumbed to his eerie, silent domination very quickly. Quicker if those dark eyes were locked on you. They were seared into the back of your mind the moment they landed on you for the first time, remembering how you just couldn’t decipher the encrypted messages they hid. Whoever stated that the eyes were windows to the soul had clearly never met Santiago.

But tonight, that restraint is gone. He is positively seething. Outwardly, publicly, irrationally seething. In the dimly lit room, he stands menacingly in the corner where the light doesn’t quite reach, yet still you can see his knuckles tensing and untensing with each breath he takes. You don’t say a word, quietly picking at the forming scab on your knuckle, and in your head, you speak the words you don’t have the conviction to say out loud.

“Do you have any idea how fucking reckless you are?”

You slowly peer up to him, his words still processing as you narrow in on him. “Reckless? With all due respect, my actions saved a man’s life and finished the mission. What part of that is reckless?”

“The part where you didn’t follow my orders! You went rogue. Off plan. Completely out of line. If you don’t follow orders, you don’t know how it will end. I could’ve lost you both unnecessarily.”

“Could’ve,” you mutter.

He begins to loom closer, taking every word of yours like they’re a sour taste in his mouth. In muted tones, he whispers out to you. “What?”

“You said you could’ve lost us both. But you didn’t.” The words feel like liberation. It’s the first time you’ve ever behaved like this. It’s so uncharacteristic but you just feel so insulted by his lack of gratitude or appreciation that anger bubbles inside you, spitting out words that you know you shouldn't, turning you into someone you definitely aren’t. You are usually a rule follower, you are usually obedient, and you usually respect authority, but in the blinding light of anger, you just can’t surrender to Santiago’s discipline so easily.

“And you should’ve listened to me. But you didn’t. Nobody ever fucking listens to me and they end up dead because of it.”

“Just because Redfly did, doesn’t mean everyone else will too.”

Low blow, Midge.

Sensing immediate regret, you keep your eyes firmly pinned on your hands on the table in front of you. Like a dark rain cloud, you catch sight of his shadow engulfing your own. His stature and all-encompassing presence emerges behind you but you don’t dare move a single muscle. His hands curl around the back of the chair you’re sitting in, the pathetic plastic creaking under his fists. The brave front you’re putting on begins to yield to his growing temperament and the facade crumbles piece by piece.

Everyone in the unit had heard of what happened when a certain team of the Delta Force went rogue. The US Army had never let them live it down since.

He leans his head over your stiff shoulder and you can even feel the heat of his anger just glazing over the shell of your ear.

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” Santiago spits every word with heavy articulation as if he’s etching the words into your brain. His laboured breathing is a concern, knowing that it’s a warning of the wrath that’s about to ensue. “Redfly didn’t follow my orders to stand down and it inevitably got him killed. And right now, the same might happen to you.”

With a sharp, unexpectant tug of your hair, your head whips back, swinging the chair with you until the overhead light burns into your eyes. Reflexes have your hands gripping the edge of the table until they turn white with tension, stopping yourself from tipping backwards. The sudden blade on your neck stops you moving forward.

“Do you remember what I said to you before you disobeyed me?”

You remember all too well. If you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.

“You wouldn’t.”

Santiago presses the blade harder against your skin, unapologetic. “Wouldn’t I?”

You really don’t know whether to call his bluff but to stay on the safe side you remain silent. Until anything happens, you are both stuck staring into each other’s eyes, holding a resentment none of you are willing to let go of. Looking up at him, it’s obvious that he is teetering on the edge of breaking a few rules himself, allowing the sharp edge of the knife to roll across the expanse of your neck, bobbing as you swallow, until the sharp point rests precariously atop your pulse. But even he knows himself that he wouldn’t follow through with it, because as much as it pains him to admit it, your courageous actions, although downright stupid, did save Frankie’s life and secured the controls. And he fucking hates it. If there was anything he could do to scare the absolute shit out of you to stop you being so smug and defiant about it, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“Santiago,” you warn, just as the point of the knife starts to break through the thin layer of skin on your neck. You try to move your head but he still has his fist entangled through your roots.

The instant the little whine of his name broke from your lips, something snapped inside him. The desperation of it, it was too provocative for him to ignore and an electrical feeling pulsed from his chest and shot straight towards his dick. Having you in his tight clutches, essentially at his mercy, exacerbated the feeling and suddenly he could feel himself growing hard. Fuck, what was he doing?

It’s perverse of him to want to hear it again, to see those plump but bitten lips of yours say his name again in a plea for his forgiveness. He becomes so fixated on the idea that he gets carried away, pricking your skin with the knife, watching as your eyes widen and your body writhing beneath him.

“AHH! Pope--fuck--okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry, just…please let go of the knife.” There it was again, the slight twitch in his dick, one that makes him grow uncomfortable beneath his boxers.

It’s one thing for Pope to be angry, but when lust is thrown into the equation, there’s much less he can do to suppress it and with you still whimpering beneath him, it’s something he’s quickly realised.

He relieves the pressure of the knife just enough to alleviate the pain but not enough that you haven’t completely escaped its threat. He moves out of your sight, his head dropping lower until his lips are gracing across your ear. You hear nothing but his slow breathing, funnelling down your ear and you instantly shiver. You want to pull away from him but for some reason, you’re chemically drawn into him; his close proximity, the smell of him, the hold he has on you, it’s all so…dangerously alluring. Something changes and the air starts to grow hot.

“Y’know,” he purrs, “I can’t allow you stay on my team if you can’t listen to my orders--”

“No! No, I-I want to stay.”

“How do I know you won’t pull something stupid like this again, hm? You’re still a rookie, you’re not an addition to this team, no, what you are is a liability. Your actions today proved to me that you are just not capable.”

“I am. I was promoted for a reason.”

“Yeah? Prove it. Prove you’re capable and I might consider keeping you on my team.”

“How?”

“It’s simple,” he says, his lips trailing from your ear to skim across your cheek, just teasing with feather light touches. “Follow…my…orders. Do you understand?”

Your cheeks are burning, your lungs are heaving, everything about this screams ‘this is a risk you shouldn’t take’. But it’s hard to heed those words when Santiago’s grip of your hair loossens to soothing scalp scratches, when the tips of his lips and his nose brush over your burning cheek, inhaling the scent of you, when your gut is telling you to listen to how tempted your body is, how wanting it is for him.

Your thighs press together beneath the table.

“Yes.”

“Yes…what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Better. Stand up.” You swing forward so fast that a violent rush of blood to your head almost makes you lose your balance, but Santiago keeps you up with a firm hold to your arm while he casually throws the knife onto the table. He perches himself in front of you to lean against the edge of the table, touching toe-to-toe and holds your gaze; bold, dark brown eyes that give nothing away about the inner workings of his mind. And it’s those same eyes that can read everything about you.

“Nervous, soldier?”

“No, sir.”

“Don’t lie.”

“A…A little, sir.”

“Good, you should be. Take off your top.”

With those words, you know, that whatever happens from this moment on, Santiago will not be following any official protocol but his own. You do as he says, now feeling the heat of the room touching your bare skin. Santiago admires the way your belt hugs around your waist, waiting for the moment his hands can do the same when he’s fucking you from behind. Your bra is standard, nothing sexy. It’s what he expects on a day you had been on a mission, but what his eyes catch is your nipples pebbling through the material, and the slight blood stain discolouring the straps from the shrapnel wound to your shoulder that he didn’t realise you had.

“At ease,” he commands. You act on instinct, bracing your hands behind your back with your legs standing shoulders-width apart. The instruction has been ingrained in you since the day you started your training. “You got hurt?”

“Minor wounds.”

“Wounds you wouldn’t have had if you had listened to me.”

Fluttering warmth spreads from your core the moment Santiago cups your breast, your nipple weaving through his fingers and caught in a tight pinch. When you don’t react, he peers up at you to engage in a wordless conversation that both are in tune with. Keep going? Yes. He brings his other hand up to mirror the other and this time he finally elicits a small, but audible sigh from you.

It’s been so long since you’ve had anyone like this, even longer for Santiago. His failures to locate his old contact Yovanna in Australia broke him and since then, he had sworn off getting close with anyone for fears of time repeating itself. As for you? You had yet to claim anyone as your own. Sure, you’ve had a few romances over the years but no one had ever satisfied you in the sick, slightly twisted way you were searching for. Up until now, you didn’t think there was a man out there who was interested in the same things you were. You didn’t think they existed.

Until you met Santiago. He is a thrill personified.

It was impossibly cruel that the world had dealt you this hand; to fantasise over the ways his gravelly voice could murmur the dirtiest, filthiest things to you, the ways his experienced hands could ruin with the slightest of touches. However, you always knew that professionalism and the dangers of your line of work would always take priority over your fantasies, and you forced yourself out of your fictional world to come face to face with the harsh reality of war. It was a miracle how you were able to survive this long without going absolutely feral, but now, with Santiago losing his patience too, you’re starting to think that you won’t last much longer.

“So fucking reckless,” he whispers, a reminder for both you and himself. His brow dips when his frustration rolls back in its tide, keeping that stone-cold expression hard on his face. It’s slightly different though. His parted lips, his vigorous movements, the slight pant to his breath. In your eyes, it all points towards desire more than frustration. “As your superior…” His voice is somehow quieter, but it’s heard all the same, “it’s my responsibility to punish you, to teach you a lesson about discipline. You need to learn that when I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. You understand?”

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck fluidly, your hands itching to wipe it away but obedience locks them behind your back. Suddenly, he snaps forward, his hand coming to snatch your jaw and force you to look him in the eyes. The precision of his quick movements makes you flinch, trapping a breath in your lungs and he notices, lips curling momentarily.

“Yes, sir!”

Shivers follow wherever his other hand roams. He moulds out the shape of your waist and hips, squeezing tighter than your belt ever could. He begins to unbuckle your belt with little regard, popping the button of your trousers and bursting the zip to admire the way your trousers hang loosely from your hips. Everything inside you tenses at the sudden exposure.

Santiago begins toying with you, running his knuckles lightly over the edge of your underwear, dipping just the tip of his finger beneath the elastic rim, but retreats just as quickly. He follows the line of your navel, travelling up and up to trace small ghostly circles around your ribcage and it takes everything in you not to shudder. Your body can’t quite figure out how to tune into him, the stark contrast between the harsh grip he has on your jaw and the fluttering touches to your body has your mind going crazy and it’s mildly disorientating.

His thumb circles around your chin before resting upon your bottom lip, pulling it out into a pout for his eyes to fixate on. He has that expression on his face that you’ve seen before; determined and fully resolute. The features of a man with authority.

“That mouth…” he pants, “‘s gotten you into trouble today.” He draws you in until the tips of your noses clash and he’s a hair’s breadth away from kissing you. Instead…“I want to fuck it. Get on your knees, soldier.”

Your knees collide the cold surface of the ground almost instantly much to his pleasure. He wastes no time undoing his belt as efficiently as he did yours, and before too long the tip of his lengthy cock replaces where his thumb was just seconds before, wet with little beads of cum. Your hands reach out to guide him into your mouth but he snatches your wrist before you can commit.

“Nuh-uh, this one’s for you. If you have some semblance of discipline, you’ll cum only when I say.”

You nod, falsely, and promptly take him into your mouth with one hand at the base of his cock while the other slips beneath your underwear and swirls around your clit the way you know best. A strangled groan leaves his throat and you feel the vibrations of it with the way his cock twitches in your mouth. The same pleasure buzzes in you, spreading warmth from your stomach down to your cunt.

Despite having eventually found a rhythm that you can settle into, bobbing your head and taking as much of him as you can, you can’t find balance. Your multitasking skills have taken a hit because as soon as you feel the tight pinch of pleasure erupting from your clit, you know you can’t succumb to it and just like that, all your focus and effort turns to pleasuring him and the feeling dissipates. It’s torturous having to edge yourself, it’s not something you are particularly well-versed in.

“So good, so fucking good,” he praises. Santiago’s hands come to scrape through your hair and take control, causing you to move faster and suck him down even harder, so much that you have to plant your other hand against his thigh to regain balance, going against his orders. He notices and chastises you. “Get that fucking hand back where it should be.”

A moan gargles from your throat, a lack of patience wearing you thin. It doesn’t help that you’re incredibly turned on by the whole situation and you’re hesitant to touch yourself because of it, unsure how much more you can take before yet another one of Santi’s orders is disobeyed. So you take it slow, lazily circling around your bud just enough to keep you satiated while you occupy yourself with Santiago. Your mouth detaches from him with a pop, using those tear-stained eyes of yours to silently beg for his own release in exchange for your own but his head is thrown back and takes no notice, indulging in the way your tongue swirls around his tip. Just the sight of the vein popping from his neck is enough to send a rush of lust to mount up onto the orgasm that’s impatiently waiting. Fuck, you really need to cum.

What gets his attention is your needy little whine. A whine that warns you both that you’re on the precipice of cumming, that if you pressed any harder on your sensitive clit you would combust. Your thighs are almost rattling beneath you.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns in a low growl, thrusting into your wet mouth and straight to the back of your throat. “Don’t you disobey me.”

“I can’t hold on,” you splutter.

“You can and you will. Fuuuck…”

Decidedly, your hand comes to a halt because after all, this is about discipline, right? It’s all about being able to control yourself, to place your trust in him and listen to what he says hoping that it will all pay off.

You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto your hand, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens.

Santiago leans forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath, but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you proved yourself.

“Fucking hell,” Santiago pants. His grip loosens around you and you suck down a large breath as he releases you. The instant your lips are free, he forces you to a stand and claims them, humming into them with hunger. He slips his tongue past your lips searching for a taste of himself on you with a delectable moan. It only takes him a couple of seconds of clawing at your waist before his hand slips beneath your underwear to feel the result of your constant edging; a wet cunt that’s pleading for relief. The slightest touch of his fingers has your hips buckling, you’re so close it hurts.

“So wet. So needy.”

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. You want it, you need it, you can’t live without it, for god sake, please!

“Yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “On whose authority?”

“Santiago, please.”

“I told you this is about discipline and listening to orders--” his fingers drill into your clit with absolute precision and immediately takes control of your pleasure, luring it to the surface. “Did I say you could cum?”

“No, but--”

“Then you can’t. Have the discipline to stop it.”

“Fuck!” Just seconds away from orgasm, you drop to a crouch, his hand slipping from you in one fluid movement. So close, so fucking close.

Santiago maniacally chuckles above you. He has little sympathy for you hunched on the ground reeling into yourself, but what he does have though, is just a little pride. Pride that you listened, that you obeyed no matter how desperate you were to go against his word. Because, of course, in Santiago’s eyes, his word overrules everyone else’s. His word is gospel. What he says goes.

You don’t get to relish the pride he has for you because you are spiralling. Your shaking body can’t allow you to stand knowing that even the slightest friction of anything against your clit would set you off and you’ve done so well to abide by his rules, you wouldn’t want to ruin it.

Santiago’s hand comes to stroke the back of your head in a supportive manner to find that you’re burning up. It’s obvious that you need release and that resides with him.

“Stand up.”

“I…I don’t think I can.”

“Come on,” he demands, his tone a little harsher. “Stand up and put your hands on the table.”

Shaky legs raise you to your feet and you brace yourself against the hard wooden table, the cold surface just a slight relief to the fire raging through your body. Santiago teases down your trousers leaving your panties to feel the brush of his hips against your ass, giving you a large hint of what’s to come. Your stomach plummets at the thought of having to hang onto the precipice for any longer. You could cry at the thought, tears ready and waiting behind your eyes.

“Good girl,” he whispers seductively. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So desperate for release that just one--” he lightly brushes your clit through your underwear, “little--” he does it again and you judder, “touch will set you off.”

Jesus, you could cry. You could cry and cry and cry, and beg for forgiveness, yield and submit yourself completely to him for the one second of pure bliss you’re starving for. He’s reduced you to nothing but a licentious and needy beggar you don’t recognise.

“How much longer can you last?” He knows, but it pleases him to ask anyway.

“I’ll break if you touch me.”

“Perfect.”

Wicked hands and fast reflexes rip your drenched underwear from you and Santiago mercilessly drills his cock straight into you. The second you feel him fill you up, one hand comes to encircle your neck, closing off your oxygen while his fingers find your clit once again and with just a few devious laps around your clit, you explode. A blinding light flashes behind your eyes and your body becomes engulfed by a white-hot pain that ironically, freezes you to the spot. Santiago growls loudly behind you, feeling how your pussy clenches so tightly around him that he’s barely spared an inch to move, but his fingers don’t face the same challenge and are still effortlessly ruining you to the core. There’s a pathetic attempt from you to remove his hand but his persistence remains far superior.

Santiago relieves the pressure on your throat to hear you sing for him. You’re thankful the walls are thick enough to contain your cries.

The thing is, Santiago knew you were close, but what he didn’t anticipate was how close he was too, especially so soon after you sucked him dry. With how intensely your pussy milks him of everything he has, it takes less than a few forceful thrusts before he succumbs to his orgasm and collapses on top of you. It washes over him hard, electrocuting every nerve and filling every pore with sweat. Fuck, he thinks, haven’t felt this good in years.

Warmth envelopes you both, eyes fluttering to a close with the liberating feeling of release. Santiago, having just a little more sanity than you do, still has enough energy to lazily work his hips back and forth, fucking you so slowly and deeply, you think it might just trigger another explosion. Alas, he spares you the burden and finally comes to rest against you.

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time the heat dwindles and air returns to your lungs. During the quiet minutes that pass, euphoria eases into your muscles, massaging out the cramp and any discomfort of your desperate attempts to contain your orgasm. The soft, grounding kisses that Santiago leaves at the nape of your neck seem to have a similar effect and you hum contentedly.

“I mean it, by the way,” Santiago mutters behind you, still brushing his lips against your skin. “You really could’ve gotten yourself killed today.” His fingers trace down your shoulder, gently running across the bandage that covers your shrapnel wounds to reinforce his point.

You sigh. “I know.”

You feel him leave you, alleviating his weight and dressing himself. “Look at me.”

You’re just about able to turn yourself around, and with Santiago’s help, he dresses you too. Once decent, the very hands that ruined you come to clamp against your cheeks, far too delicate for what you had known them to be. “What you did today was out of line—”

This again. “But Frankie--”

“Frankie is a different story. His mission to infiltrate the barn and receive the controls meant that the chances of him dying was a lot higher than ours. And even though it’s a fucking bastard of a pill to swallow, it’s just one of those things that we all have to come to terms with. I went into this mission already prepared to accept the possibility of his death should anything go wrong. Yours I wasn’t willing to accept.”

“But I didn’t die.”

“You’re not getting it.” His words are spat through gritted teeth and something in you sinks at the disappointment. The only thing that seems to calm him down is the sensation of your forehead against his, proof that you are alive. “Frankie’s death would’ve hurt, yes, but like I said, I would’ve seen it coming. If you expect disappointment, you won’t get disappointed. But when you threw yourself into the firing line like that, you started playing a game of Russian Roulette. Neither of us knew whether you were going to live or die and I panicked. I was so scared, terrified even at the thought of losing you because I knew I would never be able to recover from it. Your death, your untimely, unprecedented death under my watch would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life. That’s the difference between you and Frankie. That’s the lesson you need to learn from this.”

Your eyebrows crunch together, feeling stupid for not coming to the realisation sooner. You feel embarrassed to admit that you had never thought of it like that.

A long silence fills the room because you’re not too sure how to put the feeling of heavy regret into words, none of them justifiable enough to convey even a hint of the remorse that you feel inside. The fact that you refuse to look Santiago in the eyes is proof enough to him that you’re aware of the mistake you made, and instead of looking for a response, he settles for your silence and simply brushes his thumb across the highs of your cheek.

“Just promise me you won’t do it again, no matter how immoral it seems, no matter whose life is at stake, please, if at all possible, keep yourself safe.”

“I promise.”

He brings his lips to yours, melting them together in a kiss as though it is his last. “Good,” he smiles lightly, sealing the lesson with a kiss to your forehead. “I…I might’ve gotten carried away trying to get that message to sink in.”

For the first time in a while, you smile. “It’s okay. I’ve definitely learned my lesson not to piss you off.”

“Hmm, keep your promise and stay alive long enough and you’ll find out what the reward is.”

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3rdsleeper · 2 months

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r/s fics rec list!

(simplified by highly specific tropes)

remus does not want sirius paying his rent and sirius is having a normal one

inflations, invitations and flirtations by mblematic

summary: The Li-Lo at Lupin's. In which plenty of people crash on Remus' air mattress after Hogwarts, and Sirius isn't jealous at all. complete - 9k

practical oddities by lurikko

summary: Regulus needs a place to stay, Remus needs to get over Sirius. It’s August 1979 and things are getting out of hands. complete - 47k (ok this one technically they do live together, but its not necessarily remus' first choice iykyk please read it)

how remus got his groove back by RealityShowJunkie

summary: Remus Lupin becomes king of the cockroaches, Fabian Prewett writes a book, Gilderoy Lockhart is a catfish, and Sirius Black realizes he's a fucking idiot. complete - 42k

the son and heir of nothing in particular by aeridionis

summary: Remus is nineteen and tired, now. And he knows that if he and Sirius were ever going to become anything—if Sirius loved Remus the way Remus loves, and will probably always love, him—it already would’ve happened. complete - 23k

frog and toad aren't friends anymore by swordfishtrombones

summary: “Some people just aren’t good flatmates. I wasn’t trying to say I liked Adrian and Mary better than you, or whatever you’re thinking.” Sirius runs a hand through his hair and squints at the streetlight, twisting his mouth like Remus is truly hopeless. “It hurt,” says Sirius, “my feelings.” complete - 10k

an episode of skam (in the sense that remus is avoidant dismissive /j /j)

the lord of desperate longing by reyghost

summary: Sirius has a lot of feelings, Remus has his own issues too, and James is a very good best friend complete - 13k

and only felt good while moving by aeridionis

summary: The summer before university, Sirius falls in love and throws a punch and then he makes a friend. complete - 17k

SHAME by wiltedtddaisy (taotu)

summary: Sirius has some figuring-things-out to do. He’s not sure if Remus helps or makes things worse. complete - 82k

angle of doubt by mblematic

summary: The Map had been going missing. Or—not missing, exactly. Sirius always knew where it was; Remus had been spiriting it away. Which, it should be said, was fine. Really. complete - 9k

a bird at your door by moongnome

summary: Of pub quizzes, old films, Chinese takeaways, broken arms, and impassioned discussions of literature: Remus is confusing, and Sirius is just trying to figure him out. complete - 31k

if you're the bassist, and i'm the lead singer, then who’s flying this plane?

the cadence of part-time poets by motswolo

summary: After losing his mother at age eleven, Remus has spent the better part of the last four years bouncing from school to school or else running around London and pretending as though he wasn't the kind of well-bred boy his father brought him up to be. Now, with his chances all run out, Remus is sent to Hawkings Independent School as a last-ditch effort to clean up his act. There he meets the very people who will set up the rest of his life, and is forced to confront the pieces of himself he'd long thought had been lost. complete - 979k

dress up in you by MsKingBean89

summary: Sirius attends a charity rock gig organised by his best friend's girlfriend, and the tall, quiet bassist catches his eye... complete - 88k (ok sirius is not in a band in this one but please just go with it)

sirius black & the six by BellaBabe

summary: Remus shrugged. “Not much for the spotlight.” “Right,” Sirius drawled. “I bet you’re also not much for the rock ‘n roll perks.” Remus tensed, sparing Sirius a scathing glance. “I’m sober now.” Sirius quirked a brow in disbelief. complete - 79k

saturday nights and sunday mornings by SoupyGeorge

summary: A story about music and family, the price of fame and finding love somewhere completely unexpected. (its an arctic monkeys au) complete - 121k

sirius black learns the meaning of true love. remus lupin does too but in a much more put together and chill way

a series of sketches done in black ink by musntgetmy

summary: Sirius had always imagined the aftermath of falling in love would mean lightness, and an escape from all the horrors of his childhood. But the past never leaves, and even love can't stop bad memories from resurfacing. complete - 57k

dissonance by renaissance

summary: Remus searches for solace in all the likely places, but somehow he keeps coming back to Sirius Black. Featuring sad acoustic indie, spearmint gum, and irresponsible usage of social media. complete - 4k

the time when you were mine by renaissance

summary: the walk from Grimmauld Place to Parliament Hill is just under an hour, but it's easier going at four in the morning complete - 9k

as red as hearts and autumn by Rosie_Rues

summary: it's the autumn of sixth year, theres a flu epidemic at Hogwarts, and the Blacks want their heir back. complete - 43k

#fic recs #do people still make these? wtv #wolfstar fic rec #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #hp fic rec #marauders

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bellewintersroe · 6 months

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Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter!

part 13 here’s the LINK to part 12. mentions of sex and sex flashbacks, swearing, a little awkwardness and flirting, but nothing too intense. It’s Halloween and Christians nightmares seems to be coming true, or at least he thinks. Max and Leni can’t seem to stop the smirks and eye contact. Despite it all being fun and games, Leni’s anxieties begin to loom...

Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24@larastark3107 @maxxiemoo @crashingwavesofeuphoria @18754389

October 31st 2023:

I was meant to be working. I still had an hour left of working online, but instead of focusing I kept sharing sheepish smiles with Max, glancing over to him everytime he’d walk in the room. I’d purposefully picked a quiet room to do my work in, but it seemed to be one that Max also had to be constantly coming in and out of.

My eyes peered through my lashes and I felt a smirk grow seeing Max come in again. “Have you forgotten something?” I quietly asked, taking out an airpod. I wasn’t even listening to anything, it just prevented people talking to me- Max, however, was an exception. “No, why? Oh- actually I left my hat.” He quickly changed his mind, reaching for his cap that was still sat on the table from the previous time he’d been in here. I smiled again, glancing back down to my laptop. “What’re you working on?” He then gently asked, making his way around the table. “Some really fun stuff.” I sarcastically spoke, I felt his arms rest on the back of the chair and immediately I was reminded of how his touch felt on my back when we slept together only days prior. “Fun stuff?” He leaned over my shoulder, peering at the document. “Looks it.” He played along as I turned over to face him. “Leni, what’re you doing later?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Mmm, nothing. I was gonna watch some Halloween films.” “Not dressing up?” His eyebrows perked. “Well I can do if you want.” I joked as Max’s jaw dropped followed by a bubble of laughter. “I’m joking.” I cleared up. “Well you could dress up, you know.” I felt his hand touch the bare of my skin slightly. His eyes glancing down me indicated he was talking about something else, but he started snickering childishly shortly after.

“Shut up, Max.” I rolled my eyes, the smile failing to fall off my face. “Didn’t know you had that in you.” I pushed my tongue to the inside of my cheek, pretending to be focused on my work. Realistically I was reading the same word over and over again. “Also didn’t realise you had a lot of things in you.” I teased again, hearing him pause before laughing once again. “Well how were you-”

“Leni! Oh- hi Max.” My dad out of everybody walked in and I felt Max’s hand immediately slide off the back of my back as he stood up straight. I mentally cursed, especially seeing how his eyes darted between Max and I with a furrowed brow.

“Hiya.” I smiled, pretending to act focused back on my work. “Hi.” Max nodded. “Sorry, Max I didn’t realise you were in here, Leni have you almost finished?”

“Oh, I just left my hat.” Max commented and I almost started laughing. “Oh, okay. Leni do you wanna grab some food later? Max you’re welcome to join.” My dad offered, open arms. “Sure, I’ll be done in like an hour.” I nodded. “Ah I’ve got training until 9.” Max winced. “Of course you have.” My dad shook his head like he’d forgotten.

“Just you and me then, Len.” It was obvious my dad had noticed something between Max and I. He was acting a little awkward, he looked confused. I mean it’s not like we were in a super compromising position or anything? Then it dawned on me- what if he knew about Max and I the other night?! Fuck! The security did see me go into his room. Maybe a form of Chinese whispers got passed around?! All I knew from now on was to deny, deny, deny. “So, what’s up with you and Max?” My dad questioned once we were sat at dinner, tucking into our food. He was acting occupied, cutting through his steak. I bit into mine a little too harsh when the question fell off his lips.

“Me and Max?” I frowned. “Yeah, you looked awfully close earlier.” I started laughing at his words, hoping I could play it off just like I would anything else.

“I was showing him my work, not that it’s very interesting.” I cringed. “Oh yeah? How’s that going?”

“Okay, I mean. I can’t imagine staying there forever. Works for now, I like being able to do it from wherever.”

“Yeah it’s a good little thing you’ve got going on. Maybe you should come work for me at RedBull?” I was just grateful that the conversation had slipped past and away from Max, a relief spread through me a little too soon.

“The nepotism would be crazy. It’s not like I’ve worked to get there or anything.” My eyebrow perked. “But you know the team better than most people, it’s not like you don’t understand the sport.”

“Mmmmm, don’t think I’d work very well as Red Bull’s next team principle, dad.”

“Well I think you’d be great!”

“That’s a little bias.” I responded, chewing on my food with a smirk. “Yeah, maybe.” He shrugged, only half convinced.

“Even if you’re getting back into physiotherapy again, you’d enjoy that no?” He referred back to my degree that I’d only graduated from the year prior.

“Probably.” I shrugged, taking a sip of my water. “I’m sure Max would like to spend more time around you.”

“What?” The words fell off my lips quicker than I could piece together what he’d actually said. “Well I just see a few things, you know? I’m not completely stupid, I know you’re close.”

“Yeah, we’re close. But we’ve always been close.” I took a final mouthful of my steak, acting completely occupied by my food. “Hmmm, okay.”

“You’ve just been reading all those rumours online.”

“Well are they true?”

“You know they’re not.” I narrowed my eyes as my dad began to laugh. “I haven’t even read half those rumours!”

“Ah, pay no attention to them.” He waved his hand. “You too then…” ___________________________________________

“And he was so good in bed, Anna, like, really fucking good at sex.”

“Did you finish?”

“Yeah, oh my god, literally twice.” I paced back and fourth as I spoke on my phone to my best friend. “Len, you need to sleep with him again.” I laughed at her words.

“I know. I really want to.”

“Well you know it’s gonna end up somewhere at least, like he’ll be your boyfriend, that’s what you both want isn’t it?”

“Well… I’m not sure yet, I really like him-”

“-and he really likes you.”

“Yeah, but- you don’t think it’s too soon do you? I just… his breakup was what? Five weeks ago?” “Yeah but the circumstances. It’s different for everybody, you and Max have known each other way longe than him and his ex were even together, same for you and Josh.”

“Yeah, true…” I twirled at my hair. “Just see how it goes, Max is a nice guy, he’s not gonna bullshit you Leni, if that’s what you’re scared of.”

“Mmmm, true…” my phone lit up as a text came through. It was from Max and I smiled pathetically fast.

“Speaking of the devil..” “What did he ask?”

“Just what I’m doing… you think I should go round and fuck him again?”

“Yes, yes a million times yes.” Despite the eagerness there was the looming anxiety that would quickly take over me sooner than later…

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #Max Verstappen X OC #Max Verstappen #f1 x OC

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nerdieforpedro · 3 months

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Don't know what you mean

Part one of the Roc & Roc Series

Tim Rockford x plus size female reader (Doc)

This fic is for general audiences.

My blog overall is 18+ MDNI

Main Masterlist / Tim Rockford Masterlist / Roc & Doc Series

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: obsessive behavior, Stealing, discussion of stomach contents, food references (did you think I wouldn't?), mentions of crimes

Summary: You know it's wrong, but you haven't stopped taking them for months. He's going to find out one way or another. How are you going to handle it when he figures it out?

Notes: Because 2024 appears to be my year of writing challenges, I decided to use a prompt I saw on @creativepromptsforwriting blog for a weekend game. It was fun using a prompt but at the same time hard? I usually don't use prompts, All my craziness is marinating up there. 😎 I also took this as an opportunity to write Tim Rockford! I've actually wanted to write him for a while, but wasn't sure how. Here we are. Anything about police and Med. examiners I know from TV and for that I apologize in advance.

I got #799 which gave me the following prompt: "Sometimes it was much easier just to steal something than to ask for it." I don't know if I stuck to it or not. 🫢

As your friend told you the other day when you were grinning about how it’s been three months since you started taking his pens, “You should just tell him you like him. You’re pulling his metaphorical pigtails.”

She also told you, “that isn’t pride you feel when you do it and see him flustered. Think lower Doc.”

“You’re thinking lower, in the gutter! It’s just a pen and eventually, I will figure out what restaurant it is. I don’t need to ask him and as good as a homicide detective he is, he still has no idea who took all his pens thus far.”

Your friend calls you a weirdo for taking and keeping this man’s pens. You admit, it’s not something a sane person, let alone what a medical examiner would do. But also, he’s gotta notice eventually right? Then Detective Rockford will be hungry, because murder makes him famished and you can suggest Chinese food. Then you’ll know the name of the damn place because he should be getting all the perks and rewards from whatever little hole in the wall food place this is. It’s been bugging you that you’ve asked others in the bullpen and they don’t know, how can they not know, haven’t they worked with him longer than you have?

Fast forward to one late night of many in your office, writing up reports on your findings and listening to some lo-fi music from your bluetooth speaker. You’re trying to find ways to describe the victim's stomach contents. Bile of course, but noodles, part of a fortune cookie and a few pieces of beef that you could make out. It also had arsenic in it, high levels to where they had clearly been poisoned. Your stomach is growling and you’re just trying to finish this last report before going to get something to eat. Your fingers dance across the keys as you write, wondering if it’s going to be another burger or maybe a taco tonight. Heavy steps echo down the hallway toward your office, you’re familiar with them and have come to welcome them on the frequent late nights.

The trenchcoat is what you see first. It’s not your first time seeing it, but it always made you giggle, his elbow leans on the doorframe as does his hip. He has his glasses on, rare when he’s not reading or editing his murder boards. His broad frame dilled the majority of the doorway as you glanced up from your screen. He threw you a nod as you waved him in, long legs bringing him to one of the two chairs in front of your desk. “Hey Doc, still working?” He relaxed into the chair, leaning a little to his right, his brown eyes scanning your desk. It was actually neat for once. You’d taken the time to clean and organize it after not being able to find a case file. Can’t let that happen again.

“Yeah. I’m surprised you aren’t Rockford. I’m finishing up with the poisoning. There’s nothing specific about the arsenic though. It’s so common it could have come from anywhere. It’s the concentration that’s the kicker. That what you’re here about Columbo?”

“The case always comes first, but I have a different case I’m working on. It’s a subtle one. One that was clearly thought out and took planning. And I’m surprised you know about Columbo, that’s good. I’ll also accept the compliment, like me he had a full head of hair.” Tim explains leaving you curious. You couldn't recall another intersecting active case. The others were fairly straightforward. Blunt force trauma, stabbings, a couple drownings and animal attacks. How people still don’t get to leave bears and coyotes alone is beyond you. “It’s not a homicide. It’s theft. Very petty theft.” He’s rolling his wrist while he explains, almost like he’s hypnotizing you, but your own cough brings you out of it. “I don’t understand what would motivate a person to continually do something so benign but also annoying.” He grins, “You alright there Doc? Want me to get you a bottle of water out of your mini-fridge?” He stands and grabs himself one, offering you one without waiting for your answer. You just nod and cough a bit more, clearing your throat before gulping the water down.

The time has likely come. You’re sure he knows you’ve been taking his pens. So petty, not befitting of a well-adjusted adult, but you’re not are you? Tim reclaims his seat and scoots it back to allow for him to spread his legs to set his elbows on. He learns forward and takes a swig from the bottle. A little of the water gracing his bottom lip to which he licks off. “Thanks Rockford, for the water.” You manage to exhale after holding your breath and sit back in your own chair, trying to move away from him in such a small space. He’s still on the other side of your desk, but he’s too imposing and you feel guilty.

“You’re welcome Doc. Now, this culprit has been tricky and I honestly didn’t notice at first. I’ve always been pretty absent-minded when it came to pens. I usually use the same one until the thing doesn’t write anymore. But, Stevenson, even though he is a tool, did buy me two sets of black ball-point Sharpie pens. He was a bit of an ass saying I needed those to read my own notes. They can’t be chicken scratch and a thin wisp of a line.” Tim rattled on. You wondered if this is what he did with his suspects, left them dangling while he had them circling and spinning in their heads like you are now. The water bottle crunches in your hand from the pressure you’re putting on it and you set it down, opting to take hold of the armrests of your chair. You had splurged on a wider one for yourself that would accommodate your hips and thighs since you do spend many an hour dictating and typing notes. Rockford’s head cocked to the side as he watched you.

“Tell me why I see those same pens here on your desk in your little cup here and why you’ve been taking them Doc. I know it’s you, I just want to know why. You’re…” Tim paused for a moment, “particular but I didn’t think petty. I also can’t think of anything we've disagreed or had an issue with each other about.” Closing your eyes, you knew this moment would come, it’s so stupid. You’re a grown woman stealing pens, but it was easier than just asking. Your friend had been right, you’ve got too much pride.

“Tim.” You start, you’ve got to sell it. Hard. You lean forward and mimic his body language, elbows on your desk, trying your damnedest to look calm. Your armpits feel hot though. “Your pens are better than mine. I could have went out and bought them myself. I’m not hurting for money, but they were right there. I got one, and I just had to have more of them. They write so smoothly and fit in my hand just right.” You even gestured your hands like you were scribbling on top of a folder. This had to be the end of it right? “I’m sorry I took your pens. I will buy you new ones and work will be a little awkward but it will pass eventually.” You shrugged your shoulders and smiled, trying to reassure him. It would be totally weird working with him now, especially since he’s the lead homicide detective on so many cases, but this is the grave you dug yourself.

Rockford’s face could have been made of stone. You swear the entire time you spoke he didn’t move. “Hmmm…Thanks for the apology Doc but what is the real reason? Because it was over months and you gave yourself away every time you watched me look for a pen. Even offered me one yourself at times. I kept running through different motives you could have but none of them make any sense.” Tim reached into his coat pocket and removed his handy notebook. Turning to presumably, where said motives are written, and showed you where he had crossed out the following:

Botched case?

Improper conduct?

Evidence misuse?

Autopsy issues?

Stopping by her office without notice?

Talking to her in general?

All were crossed out and you felt that same feeling of pride in your chest and belly. You remembered your friend’s words, “that isn’t pride you feel when you do it and see him flustered. Think lower Doc.” But it was kinda cool to be in the lauded detective’s notebook. He thought about you and looked back on your interactions. As it relates to you stealing his pens, but still thought about you. It’s nice in a twisted way.

Tim snapped his fingers and put his notebook back, standing up and pressing his palms down on your desk. “This is a really weird game to play, Doc. Do you have some sort of grudge against me? If so, why? If not, then what is it? What’s your goal here?”

You shrink back from his intense stare, eyes boring into you. Gripping onto your armrests again, you just stare at his chest, speaking to it rather than him. It was easier to not see the disappointment on his face as you feel so ashamed.

“It was easier to lift your pens while I looked in your office for that damn menu! Why don’t you have one?! You eat there at least twice a week, I figured I’d take something and you’d ask me why I’d been in your office and then I could bring it up, but after the first month, it felt really weird and I liked seeing the great Tim Rockford panicking over a pen! I’m crazy, okay?!” As you spoke, Tim grew a shit eating grin that presented itself to you when you finally met his gaze.

“You could have just asked Doc. I don’t have the menu anymore because I memorized the number and address along with the food options. Because I eat there so often.” The low rumble of laughter as he stood to his full height made you cover your face. It was worse than imagined, you might leave in a huff and ignore you except for cases. But this was worse, he is laughing at you. A large hand pats your shoulder, “Doc, you’re hilarious. You’re in your head too much. Next time just ask and stop stealing my damn pens. You are buying those pens you promised me though.”

“You’re not mad Rockford?” You asked, your face felt like an inferno as you still hid it. Tim pulled his hands back and walked around to your side of the desk, leaning on it as he moved your hands. You still couldn’t make eye contact with him again.

“Having my pens stolen isn’t the worst people have done over the years. It is one of the weirdest though. Come on, I was going to go get something to eat. I’ll show you where the Chinese food place is.” Rockford assured you and finished his water before tossing in the trash can. He stood by the door and waited for you to save your work, and put on your coat. You grabbed your bag to follow Tim out.

“I’ll have your pens for you later this week. I promise and I’ll pay for the food tonight.” You offered as Tim held the door open for you, making your way to your own car he stopped walking.

“Where are you going? I’m not hopping in a pen thief’s car. What might happen to me in there? Thievery could just be the tip of the iceberg with you. We’re taking mine.” He chuckled and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re going to call me that for a long time aren’t you? And I wouldn’t harm you. I’ve been stealing your pens, that doesn’t translate to murder. Damn Homicide detective.” You mumbled the last sentence. Hopefully he doesn't really think you’d murder him right?

“Yes I will, you thieving doctor. Petty crimes often lead to major ones. You know that. Get in, we’re getting some lo mien.” Rockford opened your door and you hopped in, excited to finally taste the Chinese food again. Tim smiled softly at your excitement and started the car, taking off into the night. White take out boxes awaited you both.

Part Two

Pens that fit into Rockford's hand ✍🏼: @sin-djarin @secretelephanttattoo @maggiemayhemnj @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @megamindsecretlair @magpiepills @fhatbhabie @yorksgirl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @rhoorl @laurfilijames @avastrasposts @linzels-blog @frenchiereading @goodwithcheese @pamasaur @morallyinept @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @readingiskeepingmegoing @guelyury @pascalsanctuary @legendary-pink-dot @musings-of-a-rose @clawdee @pedritapascal @sp00kymulderr @grogusmum @alltheglitterandtheroar @agentjackdaniels @pedroshotwifey

#tim rockford #tim rockford fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #tim rockford x plus size reader #tim rockford x reader #merge mansion #Tim rockford fluff #tim rockford x you

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asukaskerian · 22 days

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Battlefield Terra is one of those works that just...changed my brain chemistry for so many reasons. I still go back and read it and think about it. This isnt an ask to return to it (though wouldn't be upset) but just to like thank you for putting the amount of it that you did out there

.__. *squish squish* thank you.

i cannot REMEMBER for the life of me if i ever posted any of the scene bits i had written in the chapter i never completed. first scene is actually one i love a lot, but then the battle scene was overtly complex and too long and had required so many rewrites and nothing worked. hghghhg.

but. anyway. this is the scene with the fallout from the "oh shit i kissed the alien am I GAY after all?????? oh fucking hell why did i notice JUST AT THE SAME TIME AS I NOTICE HOW MUCH HE'S NEVER GONNA *DECIDE NOT TO GO HOME* vfbndjh gnx;"

"And this is why it never pays to be stingy with technology," Jane said philosophically from the bucket seat next to John.

Strapped in like a sausage in its skin, John still managed to turn his helmet and grin at his sister. "Aw, come on, you didn't want the industry to cut into its profit margin, did you."

In the corner of his -- of all the pilots' -- glasses was an explosion of Spanish and Chinese sentences, nonsensical words, and Roxy-worthy typos.

The industry thing was mostly a joke; the think-typing-thoughts interface had first been developed for quadriplegics and amputees, and outside of hardcore nerds and professionals whose job required they be able to code very fast, people still preferred using their actual hands. One good reason for it: at the level of miniaturization necessary to put the brain sensors into glasses, it was new enough to still be expensive.

The new communication hub was a complete mess of hundreds of people trying it on for the first time, and it was hilarious.

"--Wow, hey, I know what that guy is doing! Oh my god, it's excellent, he's trying to think in sign language." Roxy giggled, tried to kick her feet only they were also strapped in. The craft was still accelerating, after all. Bleh. "Only then he has to transcribe into English, and he's doing it super literally! Hehehe."

Jane perked up a little. "Huh! No wonder the grammar was odd."

ID28YB: holy shit were all guna die in space aaaa

ID28YB: on the upside italics!

ID17NC: fuck how do you backspace backspacebacmlnpi

ID13JA: SARGANT MY CAPCLOSK IS FUCKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ID01JA: Like shit it is, PrivatE.

ID01JA: DamN.

ID98NZ: fifty Nine bottles of beer ON THE WALL, take one DOWN pass itaround FIftynIneBOTTLES on Thewall!!!!!

"I'll be so glad when they lock it down to emergency communications again," Jade said from John's other side, and sighed.

"At least the bosses forbid them to use colors," John said, trying for consoling. (He kind of failed, mostly because he was snickering.)

Jake chuckled from his seat at the end of the line, on Jade's other side, but didn't add anything. He hadn't really been talking much ever since they took off, and since they couldn't lean out of their seats it was really hard to see what face he was making. John wondered if he was worried about --

Of course he was worried. And if John thought about all the reasons why, he was going to start to fret too. His stomach was already in a knot behind the adrenaline grin, no need to double down on it.

"Hey Jake," he threw out, with no idea what kind of light-conversation topic he was going to pull out. "D'you think--"

"Say, chaps, I think I feel lighter!" Jake interrupted.

"Huh, yeah, maybe?" John tried to bounce his leg and wasn't sure if there was a difference yet. It was hard to feel the lessening weight of his body when it was such a knot of anticipation already, and when he couldn't move. "Wow. Are we reaching cruising speed already? There was no announcement--"

The door opened and Corporal Vantas stepped through.

(Not Karkat. There was a difference.)

"Woohoo, you clean up nice!" Roxy said with a whistle as he stalked closer in his alien boots and his space-black flight suit, head bare but for the jarringly pink headset nestled against his horns. John noticed all over again that his skin was slate gray, that his eyes were violently red and yellow.

That he moved through the heavy gravity of the rocket's push like it wasn't even there, when John himself -- at least at first -- would have wobbled.

"What mean -- no, I don't care."

He sat beside Jake in the free seat at the end that should have gone to Dirk, and disappeared from John's view, what with the helmets and the protruding edges of the bucket seats. John swallowed and put a smile on his face, even though no one was going to see him. For a second he had thought Karkat was coming toward him. Haha, silly.

"No more talk with the Generals, Karkat?" Jane asked, tone forcefully light.

"Mm. No."

"Talk with us now? Do you have anything important to say or just hanging out?"

John's eyes flitted over the logs on his glasses, the higher ranks starting to organize to separate the chatter by platoons. It was still mostly banter and bad jokes.

"...Hanging out? Yes. Hanging out. Here, not... other here. I'm Corporal not General, it's not fucking right I'm with them."

It was the exact same tone the Marines John knew used when they got offended when their chain of command got dumbass ideas. Heh.

Maybe a little hesitation. Maybe just the translation issues.

JH: haha, you guys *wish* you could type in colors!

ID28YB: if by colors u mean rainbow fruity goodness then sure :(

ID28YB: i wanted mauve goddamn!!

JH: maybe better that you can't have it, echidna would have had to cut you. :'(

(Urgh. He missed Rose. He wished she were well enough to fight with them today.)

Jade joined the conversation, asked Karkat about... John wasn't listening. What the politicos had told him, when he was alone with them without a translator. Stuff. Boring stuff.

Karkat's low, gravelly voice kept slipping into his ears no matter how hard he tried not to pay attention to the words. ("You talk I fall on you a lot. Maybe you want --")

Anyway when the loudspeaker in the wall started talking he was pretty glad.

"Attention troops, cruise speed has been reached. Stay seated until your immediate superior allows you to stand..."

Two clicks echoed around him, Jade and Roxy undoing their security harnesses in unison.

"Oh my god, I'm so stiff," Jade groaned. "I'm going to check on Remington, anyone wanna come with?"

"You sit still for longer stretches of time in battle," Jane pointed out as she freed herself in turn, as Jake was still fighting his clasps.

"In battle my seat is perfectly adapted to my butt!"

The girls started to file out, talking about butts, and John almost heard Dave mentioning butt massages, almost mentioned it himself but. No. That would have been wrong even if two thirds of the lot weren't family.

He thought of following them. He would just skip along, snicker and stretch his legs and tease the Marines and...

"See you guys later," he said instead, waving without looking, heart a pulsating knot in his throat. "Karkat and I have to practice the telepathy-typing thing. Well, mostly me."

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, listened to the tread of boots on the hard plastic floor.

He didn't need to look in order to know which one of them was Karkat, getting up and moving one seat down the line.

Leaving one seat empty between them. Huh. John wasn't sure how to take that one.

"Huhn. You want telepathy now?"

John winced to himself. "It's pretty much now or in the middle of battle, isn't it?"

A beat of silence, and then Karkat grunted an acknowledgement. "Mm."

"Mm," John agreed, and kept on not making a move toward his own headset. Karkat's was already in place, possibly already turned on. John just had to tap.

"Maybe we speak and then headsets," Karkat suggested.

"... Yeah, maybe that."

John made a superfluous noise of agreement, and then groaned and pushed his helmet off his head, tucked it between his feet. He took his gloves off next, dropped them inside the helmet, and then buried both hands in his hair to scratch and rub with vigorous frustration. It did not soothe him as much as he had hoped for.

"This is the worst timing," he groaned, muffled, as he curled forward until he could prop his elbows on his thighs and lace his fingers behind his head. His spine cracked.

The worst timing, and the worst thing. He wasn't sure he'd have taken it much better elsewhere, with more time to take care of the fallout. It sucked. His head was a mess just when he absolutely needed to be as perfectly in the zone as he had ever been in his entire life.

"I'm sorry," Karkat said quietly. "We do big things today. I was stupid. Even if you said oh yes good, kissing! it's other things in our head and we can't have other things in our head now. I didn't do the good thing."

John groaned quietly, face prickling with heat, and closed his eyes. "No, it's... Yeah. Yeah, okay, that wasn't -- the right time. But you... You were right. I was looking."

He hadn't managed to stop looking even once since he'd seen Karkat naked, coming out of his slime. Maybe he had even been looking before that, playing it off as fascination with Karkat's alienness. Kind of like 'haha no I just like looking at his horns because they're weird, so random amirite!' only with everything else on top of the horns, like his little bitey teeth on goth-black lips and his bare toes and the fit of his goddamn dress suit at the summit--

"So why--" Karkat fell silent, drew in a breath, and then released it in a long, hissing sigh and muttered under his breath in alienese. John couldn't even offer a guess from the tone this time around.

Why did you kiss back, he could have been asking. Why did you stop kissing. Why did you never make a move. Why did you make a move now. Why are you such an idiotic mess.

Answer was the same for all of them, anyway. "I don't know."

"Why do you not know that?!" Karkat shot back -- more incredulous than angry, but John winced anyway. "How you look at a people and don't know, and other people tell you 'yes, them' and you say 'haha, no' and you're wrong?"

"Oh, shut up!" John snapped as he threw himself back into his chair, his arms coming up to cross tight against his ribs. Even now he couldn't look toward Karkat at all, shoulders curled in and away from the other man. His stomach felt like someone was squeezing it with both hands; his face still prickled with mortification. It was awful, he wanted to get up and run just to get moving, stop having to think on it -- leave the feeling behind -- but he knew better than to think it would work. He knew better and he still wanted to try, flinching and too tense; what a shit condition for battle. Fuck. "I know, okay? I'm the most stupid jerk--"

Karkat's hand was hot even through the glove.

He tugged on John's elbow, lightly, squeezed a little.

"Zhann."

"... Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," he said, sounding tired, and his hand fell from John's arm. "It's shit words."

John sneaked him a look; Karkat wasn't looking directly at John either, mouth pinched in discomfort, eyes dim somehow.

"Is it I'm alien and it's gross? So you don't in your head because ... haha, gross, can't be true--"

"No!" John spluttered, turning in his seat as much as he could to face him. "No, no, you being an alien is -- it is weird, but it's not bad, it's just not normal. It's... You're a guy?"

Karkat looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Huhn?"

God. It figured. For all the joking about Karkat being gay that John had been doing like an asshole, he'd mentioned an old girlfriend too, and the cat girl who liked him that he didn't want to lead on, and it had never felt like she was disqualified because of boobs.

Also -- ugh, thanks Dirk and his casual beach gossipping -- Karkat thought Jade's butt was nice, and so was Mr. Strider's. So. Bisexual.

The way he looked now, baffled and not liking it, it was a little like he had never heard of someone who wasn't. Oh boy. What a mess. John raked a hand through his hair, tried to get back into explaining mode.

"It's -- we're mammals, remember? We need a boy and a girl to. To make little humans. That means normally we don't want other males, or other females, because -- there can be no babies? So a boy doesn't have a boyfriend, he has a girlfriend, and... The other way around, too. Boy and girl, yes, boy and boy no?"

"... Huhn."

"I mean. Some men like men! Dirk and Mr. Strider like men. But they knew it pretty early on. They knew when they were kids -- when they were small? -- that they were like that. And I've never." He swallowed. "I've never. Thought about a guy. Like that."

"Oh."

"And it's really weird." He gave a twitch of a shrug, looked away. "... And I don't know if it's because of the telepathy."

"Oh," Karkat said again, but this time he sounded stricken, not baffled.

John dropped a hand on Karkat's forearm across the empty seat, patted awkwardly -- wanted to squeeze or hold his wrist (or hold his hand) but that was just -- even such a short touch made his stomach twist with odd queasiness, his face flush back to maximum redness. "It's okay, buddy. I don't -- it's just. ... Don't feel bad, okay, that's stupid, I just -- it is weird, but --"

Karkat's breastbone beeped. Scowling down, he fished his tablet out of his collar, unrolled it, shook it stiff. Oh. Little countdown shown in rows of dots, going one by one from red to dark.

Five seconds to a dot, fifteen dots to a row, and how many rows... Hm. Ten minutes left before... John wasn't sure. They weren't going to be there yet in ten minutes.

"My mech. Gotta wake up, it's slow." Karkat waved a brisk hand, eyebrows furled in worry.

John closed his eyes. "Do you want to practice the mind-typing?"

"It's not want," Karkat grunted, slanting him a look. "... It's going to be bad."

"Mm."

"We need bigger time, not this," he added, tapping the tablet with the outside curve of a claw.

John tried out a dry shrug, and thought to himself that he really didn't enjoy it, that 'if you fuck this up you will have fucked everything up' feeling. Dread was for the battlefield, not for stupid interpersonal relationships.

"Probably. We can keep working on it once we're in our mechs, too..."

Karkat snorted, replied something in alienese that had to be 'We had better.'

Yeah, okay. John just had to put his helmet back on.

"We don't have time for this crap!" he growled -- whined, if he wanted to be fair, something strangled and pleading, frustrated.

"Mnh."

John curled forward, hands cupping his temples, elbows on his knees. "Damn it. I don't -- I can't -- in ten minutes, that's too--"

There was no way he was going to be able to stop thinking about all the things he didn't want to think about, all the things -- the petty, selfish things -- he didn't want Karkat to know about.

Like the incontrovertible fact that no matter what John figured out he wanted, whatever compromises they found with each other, there was no magic button that would make Karkat stay.

He'd been in Karkat's head too much to imagine for one second he would weigh out John and the dubious safety Earth offered him against his people -- his people abused and thrown out like shark bait to be mowed down by enemies and superiors alike -- and choose John.

John was pretty sure Karkat wouldn't even choose Gamzee.

"Do you want sex."

John flinched around and back so fast he hit his shoulder blade against one of the edges of the seat.

Karkat was looking back at him -- steady, John thought at first, but his lower eyelids were tight, his cheeks just a little dusky. The heat on John's face cooled down just barely at that.

"I ask so it's not more alien bullshit thing. It's what you want?"

"Oh my god," John protested, looking around wildly in case anyone had managed to open the sealing doors to the small room without the hiss of pneumatics warning them. "I don't know! I'm not -- I swear I'm not lying, I don't -- this is freaking me out."

"I see that, dumbass," Karkat said, but almost nicely. "You're so bad in your head, I don't know you can get that much a clusterfuck."

John groaned, slumped forward again.

"... Mouth thing, was good?"

"... Yeah."

"Touching?"

John gave a little grunt, eyes closed.

"Want where?"

"Why do you need to know?!"

There was a moment of silence like Karkat rolling his eyes, or maybe just watching him, waiting. John didn't check.

"Zhann."

"... Horns? Maybe your hands. I kind of. Want to see your claws. We could sit close? We could--" He choked. His face prickled so hot it almost hurt. He wanted to touch Karkat's face, follow his nose with a fingertip -- he wanted Karkat to allow that, the trust and closeness it would mean.

"That's where?" Karkat grumbled, gave John a frustrated look. John tore his eyes away, ducked his head. Where had he -- when they had kissed (his mouth tingled like an echo) -- when Karkat was so close, almost on his lap, what had he --

"Your thighs," he whispered, dizzy with nerves and shame. "Inside." He clenched his knees together, hands knotted between them -- oh, Karkat's legs clamped down on his hand, all warm and snug. Muscles bunching, straining. So close to his -- his. Oh shit, John couldn't pop a boner inside his flight suit, not while Karkat was watching, while they were hashing out how much of a total clusterfuck this was going to be.

There was silence for too long -- three seconds, ten, every single one tightening his shoulders, knotting his guts worse, nausea and heat mingling dizzyingly.

"... Put your head thing on, Zhann."

John groaned out loud. "Are you kidding me, I will die. I don't want you to -- there's too much, it's. We can't!"

But when he glanced at the tablet still across Karkat's lap they were down to the last two rows of dots and it was now or never. More accurately, now or on the battlefield when they were supposed to coordinate two forces that had never fought together against ... however many of those aliens who wouldn't have followed some random high-ranked asshole from nowhere into open rebellion.

He shoved the helmet down before he could think about it twice. It felt too tight, like he was going to strangle, to be crushed.

Karkat felt too close; an empty seat between them and John still remembered him in Excalibur's cockpit, how easy it would have been to slip on his lap and kiss and--

(Yeah okay definitely sexual there) flitted through his mind from Karkat, alongside ... surprise, oh wow, so violent, stop feeling, not the end of the world --

John flashed back to his previous thought -- sitting next to each other and his hand trapped between strong thighs and oh shit he was getting hard, no, no --

(hand pushing higher) echoed back briefly, edged with curiosity, a spark of -- Karkat shook his head, slapped his own hands down onto his knees, hard enough to sting. John startled. "Okay!" Karkat said, staring straight ahead.

He was maybe smiling a little.

Okay yes we need to talk later I don't fuck and run (do you?)

John spluttered. "How would I know!" I've never/and run where anyway we're on an island!

Take your mech, zip off? (laughter) (mister space pilot, so locked in.) Wait, never? How old-- oh right no one around only older adults and your tangleclan/friends and you can't with half of them because blah blah mammals (and not boys? Why not boys. Aliens what the fuck.)

John groaned again, hands on his helmet since he couldn't get to his face. Could have Rose or Roxy! Roxy was my first kiss! (haha sloppy-alright-nice but I saw you fingers up your nose too much as a kid sorry John I like you tender-nice but it all fizzed out) and Rose kissed me on a dare and it was like kissing Jane it was horrible.

And that was the entire fucking extent of your romantic and sexual experience oh my dear little dark gods that's pitiful. (sharp/teal/lovely-blade moaning over me (tight-soft-deep) other hurried hands in dark corners--) shit sorry--

Oh. Of course Karkat had had sex before. Of course he would know more, of course John was hopelessly late and useless -- he couldn't even bring himself to think about, about kissing, never mind what happened later, he was a kid--

The tablet beeped.

"Shit," Karkat said in English, and another few words that echoed as bounce me around on a bladed dildo. Which, yeowch. He turned to stare at John, already half out of his seat and leaning forward, a claw-tipped hand clenched on the armrest. "(I gotta get going now. John, do you--)"

He was leaning forward like he was about to kiss John, if John hadn't been wearing a helmet, and John knew full well that wasn't at all what he'd been doing, knew because he was in Karkat's brain, and still couldn't help but fear-hope for it.

(I'll kiss you if we win) flashed between them, too fast to hold back. No wait sorry (god it'd feel nice) we have to talk first and -- not now, cannot be now.

John laughed, mostly from nerves. I'll come with you (sit in cockpit think tappy thoughts oh my god they'll love transcripts of your foul mouth be hilarious what if I accidentally transcribe the sex thoughts too oh no oh no--)

Karkat's hand caught his wrist.

"(Do you trust me,)" he said low and intense, in an alienese that John almost didn't notice as not English from how strong the mind-echo was.

The response came embarrassingly instantaneous. "Of course I --" He swallowed. What do you want me to do?

Okay. (You are ridiculous) (thank you.)

Karkat crinkled his golden-red eyes at John and for the first time John realized he doesn't mind how I feel.

Crushes happen, Karkat replied almost casually, with a little pleased-flattered-glad trill running underneath. Crushes happen to me in particular all the damn time so I have no stones to throw. (I know this one is worse, tangled-odd with headsets but it was kind of predictable too especially because of the headsets.)

A harsh beep.

No more time. Follow me?

Follow you where, John wondered, and then Karkat showed him.

His mind nudged closer. Body alive with battle arousal, heart thumping too fast, just barely shaky in his body and he need-wanted John's cheerful-calm interest, his certainty. They should absolutely not kiss before the battle because he would cling and waste time hoping for time to stop instead and also they really needed to hash that shit out but oh, so smug that he'd been right all along. His face winced briefly at whatever echo John sent back, and then he --

(Terrifying/not right/I will never manage alone.)

John's gorge rose. (can't let that happen/you're not alone (I'm not alone either can't be please god--)

(Good,) rang like a bell between them, and then Karkat's direct, almost forceful Dive(/echo/merge) with me.

John's hands closed tight enough on the armrests that the hard plastic cracked under his fingertips at the thought, visualized like two discordant graphs slowly entering resonance, like rebounding, endless echoes -- the pattering, muted thunder of armies in lockstep. But -- but too close so many things I can't share, how?! Can't sync if we're like this I'm mortified (want to die/hide/wash it out of my brain) you're -- you're --

I want to fight. (Scared to fight.) I need to fight. Silly flurry of thoughts -- bothersome, I have them too (misjudged when to tell people about psychics, misjudged you, (this is not a romcom where you are the heroine what the fuck Vantas,) could have endangered/maybe did endanger the operation twice) we can sync on that! (would be bad). Or we can sync on --

Mechs. Piloting.

Winning the goddamn battle.

We had better not think of beds, John sent Karkat, smile shaking on his face. Karkat snorted back, crooking him a smile.

They bumped foreheads -- or forehead and helmet -- and straightened up, because it was time to go.

They stood (John stood) and walked to the door, one-two, one-two. (Easier if we walk in sync, they agreed, and wondered if it would also work mirrored. But they would experiment later, John, now where was the hangar?)

It was… odd, not quite seamless, little twitches of individual thoughts -- not like last time, at the conference.

It was easier when a Marine came across them -- Sergeant, look at the shoulder bars -- and said, "I was assigned to escort, uh, you, Corporal Vantas..."

"We're coming," they assured her with two mouths (unnecessary) (but which is it again.) "How long do we have left?"

"Four minutes," she said, carefully expressionless in her bulking power armor, the helmet politely open still as she placed herself opposite from the claws side.

Can you blame her though? haha.

It's not like I didn't help patch those weaknesses.

How'd you even find -- oh, yeah.

Of course horn sense would perceive the electricity field where crucial wires ran, the way a solid plate trembled under a headbutt at the weaker places, of course Karkat's terror would crank his pitiful amount of sensitivity up higher and the luck of frenetic, half-blind panic do the rest.

The upgraded armor would be a little harder but they had the brute strength to punch through and the claws to tear wiring free. Should be easy -- but the Marines weren't the enemy. Strong-respectful-friendly-safe. Distant-confused too (we're too young for how much weight/responsibility we carry) but nice, mostly.

The bay where they were keeping (dad) the mech was empty, if well-guarded; the Marines had taken the warning that the biomechs sometimes ate people to heart, it seemed. Which was hilarious, because (dad) was way too tired to lunge and chomp, which... wasn't funny at all, actually. (When they won, the first thing they'd do would be to put him to a feeding/repairs station.)

They scaled the black-shelled side of the mech, pushing and pulling each body from handhold to foothold -- chinks in the shell, the edge of a plate. (They avoided the gaping cavity of its ripped-away manipulating-arm, no matter how convenient it would have been for a step-up.) The edge of the cockpit opening was cracked open like a wound, ready to be pushed through -- convenient but loose because dad was tired; worrying but nothing to be done for now -- thank god they'd gotten the flight suit back because those weird cotton clothes were a clinging, heavy pain when soaked through with neural gel...

Oh right. John's flight suit might not react quite well to the neural fluid now that dad-mech knew it. What if it dissolved? Haha, naked in the cockpit. Or more like half-naked with strategically placed, slowly widening holes, talk about a porn flick setting. Didn't help that the dissolving/digesting gels used to clean dirt and dead skin cells might also trigger if Dad felt contrary enough and also eat through yeah okay, that was an unsexy thought. John/Karkat crouched, one body on the solid edge, one across the cracked-open plates, and then sinking, eyes closed.

It was the perfect temperature inside, but that never made that first deep breath of gel any easier. He breathed air deeper with the body still outside, like the unencumbered-lungs feeling could help (it helped, even though oxygen wasn't going to come through telepathically. Bodies were stupidly easy to trick.) and settled inside within the nest of coils, seeking out the one that went -- ow, yeah, there, in the flight suit slot at the base of his neck, between the vertebrae.

Wake up, he thought at it, through the neural gel and through the spinal tap, letting it feel his nerve impulses so they could sync more thoroughly. Wake up, (flight systems, weapon arms, no more standby) there's a battle coming.

Once the process was started it was a matter of waiting until it was sufficiently awake (and burning through the last of its energy.) The Karkat body wiggled into place, let the other tentacles slot into their ports to read his every muscle twitch, so the mech would be ready to move before he even thought it coherently enough to decide exactly what movement he wanted, and then settled down.

It was easier to keep in sync if they weren't both doing different things. The John body waited until the other one was at rest and then stood up, let himself slide along rib covers until gravity flung him off entirely, still pretty high over the ground; he landed in a perfectly timed crouch, laughing a little in admiration (Gods of the Devouring-dark but this body was convenient) and walked out of the hangar.

The Marines at the door didn't look at him like a stranger-threat or even a superior-officer-threat, more like a low-caste soldier might look at a beloved high-blue who cared-possessive for them (still dangerous in the abstract, never quite controllable, but theirs.) It was so strange, so normal.

"Is Corporal Vantas going to stay inside his mech?" the sergeant asked him, falling into step.

"Yes, Sergeant," he assured her soberly. "Until we go."

They weren't sure why that got them a weird look, but it was probably nothing to fret about. The metal mechs' bay door was just there -- similarly guarded but they let John/Karkat pass without a word; one of them nodded at him, fierce and grim-eyed. He nodded back the same way, and then -- oh -- worried that it might worry them, because John usually joked before a battle and soldiers didn't like things to be different. Bad luck. But by then they were at the lift and it was a bit too late to fret about the mental state of grunts.

They opened the cockpit and walked in, swung around to sit. The butt-hollow still felt wrong.

So many buttons and toggles and it was a wonder John never got them wrong regarding which did what. (Heh.)

The arm-rest where Karkat had sat ... for a moment John-alone was sent reeling, buzzing, experiencing it from the other side -- the tingle of excitement-certainty, that wordless moment when you finally knew the other person was interested, had been flirting back, the pleasure-relief of feeling wanted and known. So touching-surprising-soft to find John so far from cocky carelessness, from being sure of Karkat.

It was sweet, Karkat felt. John stared at the screens he was bringing to life and read the words he knew by heart like they might have changed somehow, tried to think war thoughts.

Weapons check, Karkat thought, tinged with apology-for-the-distraction, tinged with fondness/you-are-sweet.

John went through a weapons check.

They'd left him Excalibur's usual monofilament swords, breakable as they were -- one-hit kills was more Dave's thing than John's -- but he had his hammer too, and the more usual set of bombs and missiles.

Also two EMP bombs. He thought back to Karkat shying away from the microwave and the difference in yield and --

Yeowch vicious yeah that'll work. Not through the home-ship hull (gotta shield from star radiations) but it'll work. How come no one generals-making-plans told me we had that -- wait fuck I'm stupid of course no one would tell me when they were still considering using it on me. It'll work on the biomechs and probably the troop transports but I don't know about the range.

Excal's got good radiation shields, so we can get pretty close and make sure of the kill, John reminded him, and then Karkat reminded him they weren't supposed to wade in, just watch-coordinate from the back.

Like that'll last, they both thought, so closely that maybe neither one had thought it first, that they'd just both had the exact same amused-despairing reaction.

They went through the flight check in comfortable, whispering quiet.

#battlefield terra #asuka writes #this dates from 2017 sobs #homestuck #jonhkat

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ovobawrites · 6 months

Text

𝐵𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽: 𝐸𝓅𝒾𝓈𝑜𝒹𝑒 𝐹𝒾𝓋𝑒 ♡ 𝐹𝒷𝑜𝓎𝓈 𝒜𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓈

disclaimer: this has already been posted on ao3 and quotev, i'm just reposting this beach episode special as a promo for the fic. after this is all my previous author notes.

this is a fem!reader and also a half chinese!reader insert.

previous ♡ next

Crewel stood ominously by the door to the lodge, looking over you all with a critical eye.

"I hope you mutts are planning to clean yourselves off," he started, "and Trey, Lilia," the two perked up. "you two will be cooking tonight's dinner."

Who decided to let Lilia cook... at least there's Trey?

The contrasting reactions would be funny were you not at risk of food poisoning. Lilia beamed, so excited he started floating. Meanwhile Trey was already working up a sweat, running through every possible future in his head. Silver, for once, was wide awake and looking horrified, face awash in a nausous green. Malleus, on the other hand, faced this death sentence with a grim look on his face, ready to meet his end fighting.

Cater and Riddle were hurriedly whispering at the back, Riddle's face slowly growing more and more defeated as Cater continued on with his gossip about Lilia's poisonous cooking. Jamil frowned in disapproval, holding Kalim close to him as his housewarden started to pale in worry. You had already gone through the five stages of grief, accepting of your impending doom. The rest, however, weren't so quick.

Crewel frowned. "What are you all looking so deathly for? Go on, shower! Dirty dogs must be cleaned."

"Y-yes professor." You managed to stutter out, offering a shaky smile before treking up to your room, doing your best to avoid the other boys. For all you can act like everything was okay, you still felt that clench of fear in your gut as you closed your door behind yourself.

This would be hell.

How could I have been so- so stupid! You bemoaned to yourself, Idia's gonna hate me for this, I just know it! It was completely improper and juvenile of me to yell at him. And over something so meaningless! Why did I- How could I- Wait. Why were you so upset? Why were you wholly embarassed? The other boys yelled and fought all the time and yet, for you to do such a thing. Why did it make you feel this way? What caused this fluttering of butterflies in your stomach, the angry buzz of bees in your head?

You crashed your head into a pillow and let out a muffled yell. This trip was already shaping up to be a disaster. They already saw me in such a state. To get angry like that... how could I be so foolish! I should die for this. No one will ever look at me in the same way again. I was so utterly uncouth- to the point that none of them will ever even want to see me again. Sure, Floyd said it wasn't a big deal... but the moment any of them look back upon this moment they'll- they'll-

And that was the root of the problem, wasn't it? You weren't ashamed of getting into a silly little argument, you were afraid.

They'll hate me.

But that was fine, right? People have hated you before, and people will for evermore. There's no point in crying over spilt milk, what's done is done. You should've thought thrice before you acted, but there's nothing you can do now but learn and pray for them not to think any different of you.

You smiled sardonically, Like that'll ever happen. Who would like me after seeing me act like that?

...

These intrusive thoughts were getting you nowhere. Best to shower, fix up your makeup, and try to calm down. Let them despise you and look down on you. It's not like you cared anyways.

You finished up your shower on autopilot, routine muscle memory taking over as you sank further into your melancholy thoughts. If brother had been there... what would he have said? He'd disapprove, I'm sure of it. Getting close to others when you're an Aster is always a gamble after all. But... is it so wrong to want friends? I don't know anymore. It would have been better if I had just refused Crowley's offer.

Your face remained flat, never betraying your inner turmoil as you brushed through your hair mechanically in front of your vanity. (H/C) locks tugged at harshly as you brushed through the knots. A self flaggelation, of sorts. The pain both grounded you and sent you further into a self-depreciative headspace. It wasn't healthy but it was all you had. How foolish of you.

I don't know what to do anymore. Should I just leave? Maybe I need to talk to-

A knock on the door.

"Uh-um. (Y/N)? It's... it's Idia. C-could you maybe let me in?" His voice floated over from the door, the warble to it showing his nerves.

Ah. I see. He's here to yell at me and tell me to never talk to him again. That's why he's so nervous, Idia's never liked confrantation after all.

The silence rang out as you remained seated, frozen in place. What do you do? Opening the door means accepting a broken friendship and- you didn't want that. You didn't want to hurt anymore.

"I-it's fine if you don't w-want to let me in!" Idia mumbled, "I-I just wanted to apologise, I sh-shouldn't have..." he trailed off before groaning in frustration. "Agh I'm so-" he halted, before hesitantly speaking up once more, "Could you p-please open up? I-I heard apologies are more genuine when you- you look at someone and Ortho said that..." Idia muttered rapidly, his words too quick for you to understand.

Maybe hearing that he wanted to apologise was made you stand up and open the door. Maybe it was his obvious anxiety. Maybe it was out of pity. Who knows? But you let him in, like an idiot.

Idia stumbled back as you opened the door, shock painted on his face. A nervous laugh. "I-I didn't think you'd actually open the door..." He turned his head away. "This was easier when I practiced... ahhh." He covered his face in his hands for a moment, then slapped his cheeks and straightened up, looking you in the eye. "Can I come in?"

Your throat was dry. Your stomach in knots. Greens and blues pulsed in your veins. "...Sure." You stepped to the side and closed the door behind Idia.

IDIOT! Your instincts screamed. Now you're trapped inside with him, you're not gonna be able to run away and get safe. You can't hide! What is wrong with you! He could-

"S-so, firstly, I'm sorry." Idia spoke up, fidgeting with his hands as he sat down on the chair, turning it to face the bed as you went to sit on it. You had no idea what to say, but this silence seemed to only spur Idia on. "I-I know you get... upset when we're loud and I- I shouldn't have yelled in your face. I know you hate it when that happens, and I should have respected your boundaries."

Wait, what? He wanted to actually apologise? Not yell or scream some more? You were too stunned to speak.

"And-and secondly!" He got braver now, raising his voice from the soft volume of before. "I'm sorry that I escalated that argument. If it wasn't for me getting so heated, it would've been fine but I just- I felt- I was-" He groaned in frustration, covering his face with his hands. But something made him reveal himself and open up once more. "You were right, I was... you know. I felt... of Ruggie." His voice was so quiet at that point that you couldn't make out what he said by the end of it.

"I- you were... what of Ruggie?" You spoke up, and Idia made eye contact with you, hair glowing pink, eyes glaring. "...Sorry, I shouldn't have asked, I was being-"

"No-no it's fine! I was-" Idia sighed. "I was jealous. Of Ruggie. That's all." He turned away, looking at the trinkets on the vanity. "And again, I'm sorry for acting like that. You don't have to forgive me or anything, I just..." he slowed down as he turned to look at you, your (E/C) eyes still on him. "I just. wanted. to. apologise." The words came out stilted as his hair went more and more pink, cheeks flushing a brilliant red.

You just sat there, hands on your lap, still as can be. As the shock simmered down and bloomed into reds and pinks in your chest, you started to chuckle. Idia froze as you started to full on laugh, a sound he'd never heard before.

"I-I" You tried to say in between giggles, but you couldn't stop laughing, tears starting to run down your cheeks. "I apologise. I'm just so-so happy." A watery smile. "I thought you would- never mind. I'm sorry too." You looked Idia in the eye. "It wasn't just your fault. I also escalated the argument, you know. And I was the one who started raising my voice. I shouldn't have- no. I'm sorry that I did so, I shouldn't have drawn so much attention to us when I knew you dislike that many eyes on you."

"I-Don't cry!" Idia fluttered his hands around, leaning forwards and brushing the tears off of your cheek. "I- I really am sorry, you know. And even if it wasn't just my fault, I still should take the blame. I scared you. T-that's like totally an incel move on my part." He offered a weak smile, hands still on your face. "And I accept and forgive your apology. Really."

"I-I forgive you too." Your laughter quieted down and you beamed. "I'm glad that we can still be friends. Even though I acted so- so horribly." That's when the two of you realised what position you were in. Idia towered over you, hands on your cheeks, as you sat on your bed. It was highly improper. Your face went hot at the thought, steaming at the proximity. Idia's hair went from a light pink to a bright fushia, he stuttered and stumbled back, crashing into the dresser.

"I-I'm s-sorry!" He yelped, cowering away from you. "That-that was so lame of me!" He muffled his embrassed yell with his hands.

"No-no it's fine!" You stood up and tried to comfort him, hands hovering over his back. "Really, it's fine I don't mind!"

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Idia looked you in the eye, trying to gauge the verity of your statement. You stared back, eyes steady. The two of you stared at each other, silence enveloping the room. And for a single, halting moment, you wished that the moment would never end.

Then-

A knock and Silver's voice from behind the door. "(Y/N), Idia? I know you two are resolving things but dinner's ready. Just wanted to make sure you two are prepared..."

You jumped back and started to pat yourself down, avoiding eye contact with Idia. The boy laughed weakly and ran a shaking hand through his hair.

"Guess we gotta do that boss fight now... Idk if I have the stats to survive Lilia's food..."

You gave a small chuckle at his joke. "Does anyone?"

"Silver and Malleus, they have to brave it like every week, right?"

"I thought they just magic it away when Lilia's not looking..."

"...That makes a lot more sense."

It was akin to a walk of shame as you and Idia entered the dining room, side by side. Crewel was absent once more, likely ordering an actually edible meal for himself. While the rest of the boys tried not to make it obvious, it was clear that they were all looking at you, trying to guess whether you both actually made up.

"Koi fishie!" Floyd waved you over excitedly. "I saved you a seat!"

"Absolutely not!" Riddle snapped. "You'll only stress poor (Y/N) out! Come, sit with us, Trey and I saved you a seat!" Riddle smiled kindly, puffing out his chest like a robin would. It was adorable.

Trey smiled at you and shrugged, face as bright as day.

"Would your high strung nature not stress the poor dear out even more?" Jade hit back. "Let her sit with some fun people, for once."

"(Y/N), want to sit next to Lilia and I?" Silver blinked innocently at you, offering an out from the cat fight.

"Ah- sure, I'd love to." You quickly sat down before another argument would break out.

Riddle puffed his cheeks out and Trey drooped down slightly. Maybe you made a mistake. Floyd and Jade looked unhappy too, but... asides from sitting like how cultists circle their prophet, there was no pleasing everyone.

Lilia offered you a fang-filled grin and gestured excitedly to the centerpiece meal on the table. "Gentlemen and dearest (Y/N), Trey and I have created the most scrumptious meal for your consumption this twilight. Methinks you all will enjoy it greatly."

Side-eyes were exchanged as you looked over the main dish with a critical eye. You could only hope Trey managed to rein Lilia in. A large platter of seafood sat on the giant plate, grilled fish and shrimp lay on a bed of decorative lettuce, the colours lacking the normal ashy black that Lilia's meals took the appearance of. But who would take the bait and reach for a bite?

Leona elbowed Ruggie and gestured to the platter. The hyena sighed, shrugged, and grabbed a slice of fish. You all watched on, concerned, as the hyena chewed on the piece of seafood. His face went through many expressions, suspense, shock, pleasant surprise, and finally, a look of joy as he swallowed down the fish. He gave a sharp grin at Trey in thanks for his service and immediately went to spear more and more fish for his plate.

Ruggie's reaction encouraged you all to partake in the meal, and thank god. It seemed Trey's godlike cooking skills managed to triumph over Lilia's lack thereof. The chefs of the night glowed with pride as you all lavished praise on both of them. Silver and Malleus making the executive decision to find Trey's secret before the night was over. Money was exchanged under the table as you all betted on how Trey managed it, the secret groupchat flooded with messages as the group enjoyed the delicious meal.

☆Kay-kun☆: i bet trey locked up lilia in a kitchen cabinet!! he totes did all the cooking on his own lmao

Vil Schoenheit: No, obviously he took Lilia's cooking and threw it away while passing his dishes off as both of theirs. Lilia must have fell for it.

gamer-idia-1812: no no no its obvi tht trey cast a spell on lilia so hed be frozen + unable to unleash that horrible beast upon the world lolol

(Y/N) Aster: Maybe he had Lilia do the prep work while he handled everything else? Or got Lilia to wash the dishes while he did all the cooking.

❀✧★KALIM★✧❀: Maybe Lilia learnt how to cook!! I think he'd be a great one!!!

Silver: Kalim, I guarantee that is not the case.

Malleus Draconia, Crown Prince of Briar Valley: LILIA WILL NEVER BE GOOD AT COOKING.

Malleus Draconia, Crown Prince of Briar Valley: WHY ARE MY WORDS IN UPPERCASE?

Silver: Ah, young master, your caps lock button is on. Press the upwards facing arrow on the keyboard to turn it off

Malleus Draconia, Crown Prince of Briar Valley: THANK YOU SILVERJSKA;DLKDJLKLDLJKSKLGLHJKFDSGKDFLKHAHKL

(Y/N) Aster: Ah. Silver, maybe you should go help him?

Silver: (￣^￣)ゞ

Trey: Oh, I just asked Lilia to make the dessert while I cooked the main course.

Jamil Viper: sorry, you WHAT

leona: if i die cuz of u, green haired bastard, i'll haunt you to your grave

Riddle Rosehearts: Perhaps it won't be that bad? Maybe the rumours were exaggerated.

Trey: Personally, I'd use the word understated

gamer-idia-1812: goodbye cruel world... maybe i'll meet the Premo in heaven

leona: a radish sprout like you will be fit in hell

gamer-idia-1812: lolol i'll see u all there

(Y/N) Aster: My mother paid the church a lot of money so that I wouldn't go to hell. I'll just roam the earth as a calamity-level ghost.

Ruggie: The power of rich ppl astounds me...

❀✧★KALIM★✧❀: Oh! I should do that for all of us! So no one will go to hell ＼(≧▽≦)／

Jamil Viper: Kalim, don't waste your money doing something so stupid. Some people deserve to go to hell.

Azul Ashengrotto -50% off at Mostro Longue, Order today!-: Please, Jamil. You shouldn't be so antagonistic towards your upperclassmen! Maybe you should transfer to octavinelle to learn a bit of kindness from our Sea Witch.

Jamil Viper: I'd rather rot in hell.

Floyd >^)))<;～～: so no one won the bet? o(TヘTo) who does the money go to? (・・ ) ?

Trey: I think we should save it for the hospital bills

☆Kay-kun☆: ye just took a look at the kitchen, great idea trey!!

Mini Theatre Trey: I looked forward in time, I saw 14,000,605 futures. (Y/N): In how many of those did we survive? Trey: 1. - (Y/N), monolouging like a drama queen: 。゜゜(´Ｏ`) ゜゜。 Everyone else: Wow, that fight got a little intense! I'm glad no one got hurt :) - Idia, in the common room: EMERGENCY MEETING! PLEASE HELP ME APOLOGISE TO (Y/N)!!!! Azul: But- Idia: I'll pay you like 3000 thaumarks Azul: Done! Cater: Should this be, like, a group discussion? Ruggie: Shut up I wanna see how much of a trainwreck it'll be.

and here is the fifth part of the beach ep. if you'd like to read the rest of the fic, you can read it on ao3 here, and on quotev here.

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kyuuppi · 1 year

Note

Hi!! I'm kinda gonna be rly busy these days and your writings make me smile and i rly love ur works:)

so if ur requests are open I would like to request tighnari, heizou, and albedo with and S/O that had a past life in the modern world as a doctor(preferably a neurologist-) bc I've kinda wanted to be one hehe

Edit: omg, realizing I very much misread this ask, sorry. :,,)

Gender-neutral reader / *un*established relationship / reader recently came to past Teyvat from the future / neurologist - naturopathologist - bioengineer reader (separate)

AU notes: Because it is just the “future” Teyvat, I assume many species and lore are the same but, in order for modern medicine to exist, a lot of the magic of Teyvat including visions (and by extension, the archons) have been lost to time. This is just some headcanons tho so I didn’t get too deep into world-building and there may be some inconsistencies.

Ft. Tighnari; Heizou; Albedo

⭐Tighnari // Naturopathologist

→ Naturopathology is a distinct field of medicine that combines the wisdom of nature with the rigors of modern science. Naturopathic doctors use traditional Chinese medicine, herbalism, and diet-based therapies. They emphasize the power of nature over man-made drugs.

Knowing you practice medicine and are from the future, Tighnari is immediately super excited to learn from you

You may have knowledge that could help the people of Sumeru, especially his dearest friend and assistant Collei

He assumes you use really advanced techniques and technology that Teyvat is thousands of years from inventing, so he’s really surprised to learn the ingredients and remedies you talk about are the same as his own

You explain to him that not all modern medicine is quite as amazing as he had assumed and there are many illnesses that still can’t be treated or modern pharmaceutical drugs with adverse side effects such as internal bleeding and psychological addiction – so instead, you prefer to use old wisdom and nature to heal people

You introduce him to new ways to utilize and process many herbs he is already used to working with

Likewise, he teaches you about some species that have been forgotten over time or are already extinct in your own timeline, proving to you the importance of conservation

“In modern times, the improvement of international travel efficiency and climate change have led to an increase in pandemic diseases–how do you keep your immune systems so strong without vaccines in Sumeru?”

Tighnari immediately perks up at your question, tail swishing in thinly-veiled excitement. The amount of people who show interest in the flora of Avidya forest are few, even among scholars, so he is quick to jump on any opportunity to talk about them–particularly with someone as intelligent as you who understands what he’s talking about.

“Avidya forest is home to a diverse range of mushrooms, each with potent medicinal properties,” he begins, gently grasping your hand to lead you through the thick patches of brush beyond camp.

With how close you and Tighnari have grown over the course of the weeks, the forest watchers find it difficult to believe you had appeared out of nowhere just a little over a month ago. Tighnari was previously known to work mostly alone. While he offered regular lectures and was always more than willing to provide guidance and instructions to any forest watchers or visitors who asked, he tended to spend most of his time on solo patrols visiting the places he deemed too dangerous for anyone else. In the rare moments he wasn’t out and about, he generally stayed holed up in his tent, meticulously penning detailed research notes.

The closest Tighnari seemed to have to a social life was the daily check-ins on Collei’s condition and Cyno’s occasional but unappreciated visits.

Thus, seeing Tighnari spend his nearly waking moment practically glued to your hip, discussing flora and herbs in such detail even senior forest watchers would get lost listening to your conversations, was quite a surprise to everyone. The rare toothy grins usually reserved for lost animals or research breakthroughs have now become commonplace as Tighnari attentively listens to your every word. The lovesick smiles and starstruck expressions he constantly gives in your present are clear as day to anyone around. The forest watchers make it a point to leave the two of you alone on your “dates” – partially because it means they’re less likely to be subjected to a forest safety lecture from Tighnari when you’re distracting him.

Finally, the two of you reach a small river bank surrounded by cheerful yellow nilotpala lotuses in an otherwise nondescript location one would not think twice about. Tignari lets go of your hand to step forward and carefully lift a decaying tree log. There, a bed of bright orange fungus is revealed. They stand clustered together in varying heights but all dusted a bright orange that somewhat resembled a certain modern cheesy corn puff chip famous in some parts of modern Teyvat.

You gasp softly, immediately recognizing them from the illustrations in your medical school textbooks.

“Cordyceps!” you cheer.

Tighnari’s lips stretch into a boyish grin.

“Correct – when dried and ground they have a strong nutty flavor that pairs well in many savory dishes. They seem to have strong anti-inflammatory effects but concrete research is still lacking.”

“This is amazing,” you say somewhat breathlessly, slowly stepping forward to get a better look. Unbeknownst to you, Tighnari’s gaze never once strays from your figure. He seems to take in your every reaction in an equal fascination to your own as you gaze upon the fungi.

“We still use them in modern times,” you explain, “they’ve been shown to shrink tumors–but they’re extremely rare now and only grown in a few labs. It’s amazing to see so many of them just naturally occurring like this…”

“Really? That’s a shame–they’re aromatic and delicious in a mild curry or stew,” Tighnari claims.

Then, almost shyly, he adds: “Perhaps…if you come to my tent later we could share some for dinner tonight.”

⭐Heizou // Neurologist

(disclaimer: I literally knew nothing about Heizou and just read through his wiki page & voice lines to write this so it is likely really ooc x_x)

→ A neurologist is a specialist who diagnoses and treats conditions of the brain, spinal cord, and nerves. This can include muscle diseases and disorders that affect thinking and behavior.

Heizou values innate abilities above any learned skills and tends to see things in black and white – people are either good or evil and those who are evil must repent through proper trial and punishment in the criminal justice system

smh what a bootlicker

So he’d probably really underestimate you at first

He thinks nothing and no one is better at gauging the mind of others than his own intuition, not even your years of schooling and professional experience can beat genius detective Shikanoin Heizou!

You kinda have to prove yourself to him

Like maybe you happen to be tagging along when Heizou solves a case and correctly identifies the culprit to a petty crime – except even the culprit themself doesn’t fully remember committing the crime and they seem oddly confused and disoriented

After hearing the circumstances of the case and asking the suspect several questions, you learn that they had recently recovered from a very severe infection and deduce that they may be suffering from some negative cognitive effects from it that impairs their judgment and memory

You explain the concepts of neurological trauma and how physical illnesses can affect the thinking and behavior of people – sometimes criminals themselves are just victims of circumstance

After that, Heizou is much more receptive and openly interested in your profession and future world. He asks you to explain all kinds of different neurological disorders and degenerative diseases

He’ll listen to everything and try to understand the complexities of the human body as you describe them but he’s a little lost at times tbh…

He’s really interested in how your field is used in criminal cases in the future; you explain to him how medical professionals are sometimes called in during trials to explain why the victim or criminal may have acted in a particular way

Disorders relating to dementia kind of freak him out — he can’t imagine many things more terrifying than forgetting everything you’ve ever known without even being aware of it; what if he lost his intuition from a small concussion? He might be even more reluctant to get into physical fights from now on…

Since coming to Inazuma, you have become a frequent guest of the Tenryou Commission and, more accurately, of the top detective, Shikanoin Heizou. While your relationship initially began with you being the subject of intense interrogation and scrutiny – “How exactly did you get here from the future? What are your intentions for coming to Inazuma? Do you hold a grudge against the Raiden Shogun?” – over time, your honesty and pure heart – his words, not yours – earned the trust of Heizou and thus the rest of the Inazuman people.

Eventually, hours of grueling interrogations between the two of you became playfully competitive card games and battles of wit. Heizou absolutely loved to test your intelligence but not because he doubted it. On the contrary, you were honored as one of the few he considered nearly on par with his own quick wits. Even if you always lose, Heizou is convinced you’re one of the most intelligent people in Inazuma–maybe even all of Teyvat!

One of his recent favorite games to play is one in which he gives you a hypothetical patient with a list of symptoms and asks you to tell him the diagnosis. You’re pretty sure he wouldn’t even know if you were right or not but you decide not to ruin his fun.

“Okay, how about this – muscle weakness, poor vision, and difficulty standing still,” Heizou rattles off, apple green eyes watching you expectantly.

“Age of patient,” you inquire.

“Old.”

“How long did it take for symptoms to manifest?”

“Hmm…a few days.”

You look away thoughtfully as you mentally sift through multiple possibilities, Heizou’s gaze darting across your face with each small twitch of emotion. Watching you think has become something of a fixation for him.

“Possibly… Gullain-Barré Syndrome? Would need to do some NCV and cerebrospinal fluid tests to be certain though,” you finally conclude.

Heizou grins at your rudimentary diagnosis, seeming just as satisfied as he is after solving a cold case.

“As I thought, you really are a genius!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you sheepishly brush off, feeling slightly shy under Heizou’s enthusiastic praise. From what others in the commission have told you, Heizou is generally not one to throw around empty words of flattery. You find that somewhat hard to believe considering how often he compliments you, from your sharp intellect and wit to even less obvious aspects of your personality you have never considered praise-worthy.

“Nonsense,” Heizou simply brushes off, “my intuition tells me so and my intuition is never wrong.”

⭐Albedo // Biomedical Engineer

→ Biomedical engineers apply the sciences of engineering to the art of medicine in order to improve the function and life of individuals. They study, design, develop, and evaluate biological and medical systems such as artificial organs.

This is the one closest to my field IRL so my bias is going to be so obvious LOL

Albedo was interested the moment he heard someone from the future had come to Teyvat – there are numerous things that can be learned from the future, whether technological advances or social inclinations

However, when you explained your specific profession, Albedo’s immense excitement was apparent

Albedo wants to know literally everything

He’s smart enough to be able to piece together the bits you give him. Even if you don’t fully know how to explain future technology in simple terms that people from thousands of years ago would understand – how do you explain a laptop to people who don’t use electricity? – Albedo somehow gets it

He wants to document every single bit of information you give him. He listens intently and has everything you tell him basically memorized word-for-word but he still makes an effort to write down a summary at the end of each day.

While you claim there are still many limits of science in the modern world, the advancements your society has made are beyond even his own imagination and they give him hope that his goal of understanding the truth of the world may one day be possible

“So these stem cells are able to be harvested from bone marrow and transplanted to any part of the body where they naturally proliferate and regenerate damaged tissue in any part of the body?”

Albedo sits across from you in his office with uncannily perfect posture, right hand resting under his chin in thought as his gaze remains steadily on your own. Neatly-written report papers decorate the desk between the two of you, your own wonky diagrams doodled between his neat penmanship.

“Yep,” you chirp, “we have even made whole organs and organ systems with them. Simple tissues like muscle are much easier of course, but we have successfully created even more complex organs, like the heart. In the future, we hope to eliminate the need for human organ donations, especially for organs with the longest waitlists, like kidneys.”

“Fascinating,” Albedo murmurs, gaze becoming distant as he seems to lose himself in his thoughts for a moment. His attention snaps back to you before you can spend too long admiring his delicate features– a habit you have admittedly shamefully indulged in over the past few weeks.

“If you can create organ systems from cells, creating human life must be less than a century away,” he reasons.

“Actually, we’ve already created model embryos which all major organs and a beating heart, but consciousness is concept that eludes even modern science,” you begin.

With anyone else, you’re sure the start of your rambling would be met with bored, glazed over eyes or pleas to ‘please stop talking like an encyclopedia’ but Albedo’s attentiveness does not waver in the slightest as he seems to hang on to every word. The only times he breaks eye contact are to briefly add to his notes when you share something particularly novel that he wishes to discuss further in detail after you finish talking. With Albedo, there is no need to fear boring or confusing him.

And while Albedo finds your life from the future far more interesting than anything his world has to offer, you firmly disagree and are eager to learn about alchemy and visions, as they are not widely practiced in the future. He was a bit startled to learn visions are practically nonexistent in your timeline but he concludes that your science is far more magical than anything a vision can be used for.

As you learn more about each other’s worlds, you naturally come to learn about each other on a more personal level as well. You share some bits of your daily life and hobbies only as off-handed remarks but you’re surprised to find Albedo is just as interested and inquisitive about them as he is your science.

Similarly, you discover his artistic talents by accident one day when you mistakenly pick up his sketchbook instead of the notes he’d asked you to look over.

“This is amazing, Albedo!”

“They’re just some simple sketches,” he dismisses, glancing at the familiar leather-bound book in your hands.

“These are more than just sketches. Your shading is so good and you capture their expressions so perfectly! These belong in a gallery…”

Albedo finds himself fiddling awkwardly with his gloves as an uncharacteristic warmth rises fills his chest cavity from your praise. Over time he finds you elicit all sorts of uncharacteristic feelings within him, both psychological and physical. He wonders if perhaps instead visions your people have their own invisible magic that affects him so peculiarly…

The idea of exploring this particular area of research with you fills him with an amount of excitement he didn’t think possible

“I appreciate your compliments,” Albedo concedes, “however…”

Your gaze shifts from the open sketchbook in your hands to meet his own, finding him already staring at you with an expression you can’t quite decipher.

“I believe I require a model to truly improve my talents. If you don’t mind, I would be honored to practice with you.”

#kyuuppi.req #anon #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #tighnari x reader #albedo x reader #heizou x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin scenario #genshin impact scenario #genshin x you #tighnari x you #albedo x you #heizou x you #genshin headcanons #genshin hcs

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slothgiirl · 1 year

Text

in the air (xiao x reader)

7.3k words. mentions of rock climbing and chinese traditional medicine. pining. fluff. first time writing in genshin impact for xiao so idk how in character this is. probs errors bc this is unedited like my lyfe lol. also xiao takes 1k words to show up hehe

“Delivery for Bubu Pharmacy,” you dump all your packages on the counter, finally able to see in front of you once again. The walk from Qingce Village to Liyue Harbor was long, made longer by the various dried herbs and distilled oils you had to carry.

“Ah, our lovely botanist,” Herbalist Gui grabs a letter opener, already sorting through the parcels. Silk flowers, glaze lilies, fresh lotus root, ginseng root, and the rest of the raw ingredients a pharmacy needed. “No violetgrass? Or qingxin flowers?”

You slip behind the counter, taking a seat on the stool Qiqi used to reach. You’d need the stool too in order to get the very top shelf ingredients. Maybe you weren’t a pharmacists, you think as you read the labels for ingredients as rare as sakura blooms imported from abroad to condensed ginger, but you could probably fix a cold.

Botany wasn’t your dream growing up, but your family’s business. The house you’d grown up in was tiny compared to the greenhouse full of silk flowers, to the pear trees and lotus growing in flooded terraces. You liked the job. You liked getting to see all of Liyue. You loved the smell of drying cinnamon and seeing a plant perk up once you gave it some compost.

“Not yet,” you admit, “with the rains last week I couldn’t exactly get to Huaguang Stone Forest.” Your favorite part of this job was getting to climb up the towering peaks. You loved rock climbing. You loved the cool wind on your skin after ascending, looking down and knowing you’d done this. You loved the solitude, the quiet and peace. You fell in love with the alien perspective of being up so high.

“Be careful out there,” Herbalist Gui says, a crease forming between his brows, “isn’t full of hilichurls and demons?”

“I am careful,” you massage your calves, “pretty sure a lawachurl could break me in half.” It ate at your time, having to go around treasure hoarders and hilichurls, unsure if they’d let you pass freely or not. There was no way you’d risk a run-in with fatui skirmishers that far from the Millelith’s sight.

So you hid behind bushes and trees, going around and losing hours.

“And the demons? You ever actually seen one?”

You laugh. “No, thank the Archons.” You didn’t want to test how effective exorcist charms were against demons. Chongyun had carved one out of wood for you to keep you from being possessed, while Hu Tao’s last present had been a jade sigil to tells ghosts you were a friend. You were concerned about its effects but Hu Tao always had good intentions despite her questionable methods.

You trusted her.

And there was no way you were going to disparage one of your childhood friends to her face. Some people had no tack.

You couldn’t imagine calling someone a weirdo even if it was true. Especially in a mean spirited way.

“That’s good.”

“Tell Baizhu I’ll be back in two days ,” you tell the pharmacist.

“That fast?”

You smile, “yeah. I’ll come back here then head home.” It’d mean only having one day to lazy about at home before hitting the road again, but like Hu Tao you valued the reputation of your business too much to delay the order of violetgrass and qingxi flowers to next week.

“Okay, I’ll be sure to let Baizhu know.”

“You’re the best.”

“Do you want some tea before you go,” Herbalist Bui asks, “it’s got jueyun chilis, good for all that running around you do.”

“Of course you don’t have regular jasmine tea?” This was a pharmacy. You accept it all the same, grateful for the warmth of the tea quenching your thirst. Maybe you wouldn’t be dead on your feet when you ascend tomorrow.

___

You camp at the south of Caijue Slope.

Travelling at night wasn’t a bright idea if you didn’t have a vision. Something you most definitely didn’t.

You’d always dreamed of a geo vision, though without Rex Lapis who knows if there would be any new geo visions. When you’d started bouldering around Mingyun Village, learning to identify fungi and flowers with your father, you could only ever imagine a geo vision.

It would be mad useful.

You wouldn’t need to carry ropes and anchors if you could just form your own anchors and climbing forms out of the very rock you ascended.

Passing through Jueyun Karst let you know waiting had been the right choice.

The mud clumps to the soles of your boots. When you step on the road, your feet sink. There’s little to no treasure hoarders or fatui to be seen. It must’ve been awful the day after the rains and near impassable with the rain. The towering mountains made the roads down below prone to flash flooding.

You have to stop and scrape the mud off your boots on rocks every few steps until finally you start the road up to Qingyun Peak. You barely even need to check your worn map.

Your family has been in the botany business for generations. You know where the clusters of Violetgrass and Qingxin spring up. Between here and Mingyun Village, you gather enough of both to fulfil Verr Goldet and Baizhu’s orders.

It takes the entire morning to ascend up the northernmost pillar of Huaguang Stone Forest, sitting on the edge as you Mint Salad and mora meat. It’s not as good when the food’s cold, but there’s nothing better than the food you eat after a long climb. Sweat runs down your spine as you look over Liyue. You can make out the Jade Chamber in the sky over Liyue Harbor. This must be what the adepti, what Rex Lapis, saw every day.

After Bubu Pharmacy you’d deliver to Wangshu Inn, then home. Then you’d collapse in bed before starting all over again.

You run your fingers over the petals of the qingxin flower. This one could stay. It was too small, the majority of the buds still closed.

The zenith of the sun has passed when you finally start to descend.

You hook your safety rope into the anchors you’d placed on the way up.

One of these days you’d buy yourself a Monstadt glider.

As you go, you remove the anchors, releasing the expansion clamps and slipping it into your bag, before descending the next metre.

You hook your safety rope into the next anchor. Then descend another metre. Carefully. Taking your time.

Pebbles fall past you.

It feels like the entire world rumbles.

You look out into the landscape, into the fog you can barely make out the other stone pillars, but even the fog cannot obscure the flashes of green anemo bursts in the skies.

Shit.

You glance up. It was a good twenty metres to the peak. You look down. It wasn’t any better.

It was worse.

A good thousand metres up. 800 from where you’d started climbing from the top of the road.

The flashes of anemo grew closer.

More pebbles fell, clinking against your shoulder. Dirt dislodged and fell in your hair.

You were stuck.

Your hands grew sweaty.

If it had been raining you could make it up free handed. Waited it out. Rain usually built up. This stone forest had no ledges to seek shelter on.

Fuck.

Flashes of green interspersed with flashes of red and blue.

Dread.

You look around, trying to find anything to perch on.

Okay, okay. Let yourself fall onto the ledge 30 metres below. No-

Not survivable.

Your hands grow slick with sweat as figures emerge out of the fog.

Dark figures. Demons. Monsters.

Your grip slips.

You flail, trying to catch yourself.

Fuck.

You slam into the side of the cliff, dangling by your safety rope over a thousand metres in the air. Pain explodes across your thigh.

Your fingers are bleeding where you’d tried to grab a rock.

The figures are closer now. Across from you fighting in the air, floating. Abyss mages and a fighter. You couldn’t tell.

And you couldn’t waste time watching.

You clip into the next anchor, attaching your safety rope. There was no time to climb up for the other rope and anchor.

You cut your loses.

Okay, move.

You scramble down, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

There’s an extra safety rope in your bag, you climb another metre down. And another one.

The sound of fighting is still too close, approaching, you hear the laughter of the abyss mages, the clash of steel against abyssal magic. You don’t look, chest heaving as you try to climb down in minutes what would normally take hours.

You inhale sharply, the dirt from the rocks mixing with the blood on your fingers. You slice your fingers on the ledges but keep going.

It doesn’t matter.

You have to keep going.

And then nothing matters.

Ice explodes against your back.

A chill spreads from the spot, your muscles tense and freeze and you can’t move. You can’t move your fingers. You can’t-

You look up.

The abyss mage is looking at you, laughing behind it’s terrible mask, a mockery of Opera makeup, as you fall.

It’s why the spear that jut out of it’s chest catches it off guard.

But what does that matter?

You’re falling, falling…

The figures disappear from your vision.

—-

You scream.

You’re so cold.

You can’t even flail as you plunge to your death.

You’ve never been so cold.

The fog dissipates as you approach the ground.

Your vision explodes in emerald and black. “Hgh,” a hand grips your wrist.

Thunk.

You smash onto the ground.

Only you’re still alive.

“Hold still,” a gruff voice says near your ear.

What!

You kick, blinking the tears, blinking away the terror from your eyes, “let me go!” You were alive. YOU WERE ALIVE!

And tangled on the ground with a strange masked man.

Vexation is clear in his tone as he repeats, “hold still.”

You roll off him, wincing. Everything hurt. You side ached. Nothing was broken. You could tell you’d be bruised black and blue for the next week. “Thank you,” you huff, connecting the dots even as your vision grew white with pain. Your fingers were still cramped from the cold. You could use jueyun chilis right now.

Thank the Archons you still had your bag. Crushed flowers were better than no flowers.

“Mortals should not be in Jueyun Karst.” The man still wears a mask carved of blackened wood. It matches the black of his gloves. A vision is strapped to his wrist.

Not a man at all.

You breathe, forcing down the pain.

You couldn’t do anything about it until you were safe. Not out here. Not out in the open.

You look around.

You weren’t in Jueyun Karst anymore. This was the road east to Guili Plains.

“I have permission,” you tell the adepti, “I can show you the sigil of permission.”

He says nothing, crouching in front of you like an overgrown bird. The mask is still on.

Despite that you’re not scared.

The sigil feels strange. It feels akin to resting your back against the statues of Morax.

“See,” you tell him. You weren’t lying. It was the same sigil your family had used for generations. Your grandmother said Moon Carver had gifted it when the Qixing closed passage into Jueyun Karst. “Master Adepti? Sir?…” You weren’t sure of the proper way of addressing an Adepti.

His eyes travel from your sigil to you. There’s mirth in his cor lapis eyes.

The mask.

The fighting.

He wasn’t just any adepti.

You lean forward, “you’re the vigilant yaksha,” you raise your hand, forgetting yourself for a moment as you move to touch his mask only that might get you struck down for disrespecting an adepti’s pride. All the adepti had strange rules about what was permissible. “I don’t know about you adepti, but it’s kinda rude for you to keep your mask on for so long.” It felt like he had something to hide.

“You presume to order an adepti?”

You crack a grin, “I couldn’t make you do anything.” You shift, trying to get up. You need to get to Wangshu Inn before night.

“Fuck,” you hiss. Right. You were all banged up.

The yaksha moves swiftly, steadying her. “You’re hurt.”

“I am,” you wince. “Just bruises.”

“Why were you in Jueyun Karst.” His tone drips with disapproval.

“For qingxi flowers. Violetgrass. Pharmacists need it.” You laugh. “Ironic right?”

He’s still holding you up, his hands on your arms, gentle despite the destruction he just caused in the stone forest. You want to see his face. You want to thank him without any barriers.

He must be handsome, you think to yourself. You know he is.

“Can you not grow them in Liyue Harbor?”

You shake your head, “they only grow at high altitudes. They prefer rocks to soil. I think there’s something in the rocks, some mineral. We’ve tried to grow them in Qingce Village but they didn’t take.”

His eyes study you once more, “your hands are bleeding.”

“It’ll be fine,” you tell him, “some balm. Baizhu deals with worse all the time.” At least the cold wore off.

“Where should I leave you?”

The words are unexpected. He’d saved you, but he wasn’t exactly friendly and warm. The Yaksha was quiet and reserved.

He’d stayed to make sure you were okay.

“Liyue Harbor,” you say tentatively, “though if that’s too far…”

“Heh,” the Yaksha rolls his eyes, scoffing.

“If it’s out of your way,” you amend, smiling, “I’m sure that it’s an easy distance for the Vigilant Yaksha to cover.”

He tilts his head.

You wonder what he thinks of you.

“I’m only joking,” you add when the silence streches out in case he missed your teasing. “But Liyue Harbor would be great if it’s not a bother.”

The Yaksha nods. “I offered.”

“You did.” He didn’t have to.

You try not to read into it too much. The adepti were all about protecting Liyue. You weren’t special.

Quite the opposite.

You’d been in Huaguang Stone Forest at the wrong time.

He finally lets go of your arms, only to pick you up bridal style.

“Ah!” You’re caught off guard, barely processing what is happening before the world disappears in black smoke.

You squeeze your eyes shut, as wind streaks through your hair, chilling your skin all over again.

In seconds, he’s already placing you back down, overlooking the Harbor.

“Wow, that was amazing!” What took you two days to travel, the Yaksha had done in seconds. You look over the Harbor, it’s lights slowly turning on as the sun sets over the water. It was a short walk to the Pharmacy. You’d be imposing on Hu Tao tonight.

She’d probably love the impromptu sleepover.

“Thanks again-,” you turn back to thank the Yaksha once more.

But you’re alone.

—-

“Jueyn chilis, qingxi flowers, and a boatload of mint and ginger,” you list off to Verr Goldet. “Hey, do you sell incense sticks?”

Verr’s eyes widened, “what happened to you my dear?”

Your hands were still all bandaged up, but as you suspected, it was pretty much all bruising. Still, you’d be sticking to Mingyun Village and Wuwang Hill until you were given the all clear by Baizhu. It was good to let the usual spots grow wild in the meantime.

You didn’t want to overpick any one spot.

“Nasty fall,” you also didn’t want to worry the Innkeeper unnecessarily. “I’m mostly bummed out. I have to go back for most of my anchors.” Stupid abyss mage.

“Well,” Verr Goldet hands you an incense stick, “this one’s on the house. Since you’re always on time. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Are you sure,” you ask, already reaching for your mora bag.

“Listen to your elders and take the incense stick.”

“Thank you.” You bow respectfully to the woman, “this is so kind of you.”

“I know you would show me the same kindness.” She bows back. “Make sure you rest and rest before heading off.”

“Of course,” you grin, “you’re the only place that sells mushroom pizza in Liyue.” You could get honey roast and radish veggie soup at a street vendor in the Harbor but not pizza.

—

With your own mora you purchase healing balm. The Yaksha would appreciate this. You think. It made sense. He probably fought demons and monsters all the time.

He could use this when he got hurt.

You think.

You don’t know much about adepti.

“I think that’s a marvellous idea!” Hu Tao practically dances in delight when you tell her your plan.

“As a thanks,” you further explain. “It doesn’t feel right to just pray at a shrine.” You don’t even know his name.

“Ah,” she twirls in the street, running into a merchant

“Hey! Watch where you’re going weirdo!”

Hu Tao pays him no mind. “Obviously my charm worked.”

“What? No it didn’t,” you frown. The spirits had not been the problem. The abyss mages had nearly killed you.

But your friend is too busy with ideas to pay you any mind, “perhaps you need a noctilucous jade sigil to repel evil spirits?”

“That was an option,” you raise a brow. That seemed more useful.

“Most spirits aren’t bad silly,” she tells you, “very few become demons.”

“Can it at least be Cor Lapis,” you think about the Yaksha’s eyes again. You’d thought about the Yaksha a lot.

“No. That wouldn’t work for the carving. Hey, let’s get a drink before you go!”

—

You sit at the shrine in Mingyun Village. And it really was a village. Just two stores and a few houses. Most of the people here were fishermen, but you knew some lived off the shells and pearls that could be gathered on Yaoguang Shore.

The largest was inscribed to Rex Lapis. There were steles for Moon Carver, Mountain Shaper and the other adepti of legends. And a small one for the Yakshas, but there were no names for them.

You frown.

You set the jar of balm in front of you. Then you light the incense stick, unsure of what the proper prayers for a Yaksha were.

“Oh mighty vigilant Yaksha,” you cringe, closing your eyes, “scratch that. Um,” could adepti even hear your prayers? Could Rex Lapis answer prayers from the heavens? “Thanks again for saving me. Sorry if I got in the way or anything. I’m glad you keep those monsters aways from the Harbor and villages. And thank you for dropping me off in Liyue Harbor. That was incredibly kind of you. This balm is for you.”

There. That didn’t sound half bad.

Maybe you could still be a ritualist.

Change careers last minute.

You hear a snort.

You open your eyes.

In your peripheral, the Yaksha stands facing the shrines. His mask rests on his belt.

You were right, he is handsome.

Teal streaks through his dark hair. There’s a violet mark on his forehead and he’s handsome. His expression is inscrutable though his eyes remain kind despite what his demeanour would suggest.

He sits down next to you, watching the incense stick burn. The smoke wisps off in spirals.

“Thank you.”

“I heard.” His voice is not unkind.

You nod, “all the same.”

You breathe the rich aroma of the incense.

“You should always burn 3 sticks, or 5.”

“Sorry?” He doesn’t seem angry or upset. But you still feel the need to apologise. He was an adepti after all. The Yaksha did so much for Liyue already.

His eyes fall close. The last vestiges of wariness dissipate. “I do not need the balm.”

“Oh.” Your face falls. Stupid. You’d done nothing right. It would have been better to just leave things be.

You watch the smoke, biting your lip. He’d come all this way and you’d done everything wrong. You were embarrassed.

He probably had better things to do.

The Yaksha opens his eyes, turning towards you. He frowns.

He had such lovely eyes: black tea steeped perfectly. There was a warmth in them that had you dismissing all your negative thoughts. He wasn’t irritated with you at all. He’d chosen to come all this way for you even when you had things all wrong.

The Yaksha was strange, but kind.

Even as he held your gaze for an inhumane amount of time, unblinking, you felt comfortable the way you might with Chongyun.

You were right. He was handsome. The stories never mentioned that.

He parts his lips, brows furrowed, before looking away. He fixes his gaze on the steles again.

“Well, is there anything that you might like as thanks,” you finally settle on uttering, looking very pointedly at the bas relief of Morax. Heat rises to your cheeks. It was so silly. This was such a normal thing to do, thank someone and yet you grew flustered.

“Ah?” The Yaksha’s cheeks grow pink. “There is no need-I do not act in exchange for material gain.”

“I just want to thank you. If not for saving me then for taking me to the Harbor.” You bite your lip. “You can think of it as friends exchanging gifts.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

The Yaksha stands suddenly, a swirl of anemo blowing your hair about. “I have duties to attend to.” And he’s gone.

Clearly, you and Hu Tao both failed at making friends.

—

A month passes, and you’ve made every effort to take your mind off the Yaksha. He was an adeptus. Two times you’d met him. That was more than most people ever interacted with adepti.

You weren’t part of the Qixing.

You were a simple botanist running around liyue.

You run your fingers over the new jade amulet from Hu Tao. You’d be okay.

Last time was a freak accident.

In two decades of life, last time had been the sole time you’d seen an abyss mage. Nothing would happen this time. You’d collect the herbs in Jueyun Karst as usual and be on your merry way.

Ascending is made easy by the anchors you left behind. You’re the one who takes baby steps, pausing with every push up to look around in case there’s some hilicurls aiming for you. You close your eyes, leaning your forehead against the rock. It was fine. You were fine.

Your hands had scarred over.

You refused to be afraid of going out in Liyue for the rest of your life.

You push onwards.

You check your safety line. You check each anchor.

You look around.

So far so good.

It’s only when you break past the fog that you realise how uneventful the entire ascension has been. You’re worried sick about nothing.

You pull yourself onto the cliff top and collapse on your back, panting.

You laugh, at yourself, at the situation. At being so high up. You close your eyes and soak in the warmth of the sun, the heat of your body against the cool stone. Had Rex Lapis created this stone forest too? You’d have to ask Baizhu. He knew all the stories since he told them to Qiqi endlessly, not that the little girl ever remembered.

She’s been a child for as long as you could remember.

Lunch is cold jade parcels and leftover fried radish balls which are never as good cold. Nothing fried was ever as good cold.

You pluck the qingxi flowers first, bunching them up in your bag. The violetgrass was easier since you collected those on your way up.

You take another drink of water from your flask, looking over the landscape. Jueyun Karst was so beautiful. You forgot how dangerous the area was.

The plan was to head north and swim across the waters to Qingce Village, swim home. You’d have to camp out on the isles, but it was safer than staying in the stone forest overnight or trying to swim in the frigid night.

You take a nap, waiting for midday to pass before you start your descent.

You pull the last anchor free when a voice startles you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ah,” you weld the anchor like a knife in the air before you recognize the Yaksha’s distinctive purple pants and green tattoo. “Fuck,” you place a hnd on your chest, “you scared me.”

“I did not mean-,” he frowns, “why are you here?”

You point up, “have a job to do. Qingxi, violetgrass. I’m just happy everything else can be cultivated.”

The Yaksha’s frown deepens.

“I have a job to do. It has its risks but medicine must be supplied.”

He nods, but remains sullen.

“Anyways I’m all done here.” You wipe your hands on your robes, “and relax. I waited until I was done healing, see,” you hold up your palms. With coconut oil the scarring would fade.

The Yaksha steps close to you, taking your hands in his and looking them over. He runs a finger over your darkest scar. There were specks of gold in his eyes. The mark on his forehead glowed.

He looked up through long teal lashes at you when he was done accessing your hands.

Your mouth is dry. It’s hard to meet his heavy gaze. It feels like falling all over again.

There’s no way he misses the flush on your cheeks that has nothing to do with climbing and everything to do with the way his touch renders you breathless.

“I will escort you through Jueyun Karst.”

“Oh,” your eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t have to,” you brush your hair behind your ears. No matter what you did climbing made your hair a rat’s nest. “I’m sure your very busy with your adeptus duties.”

“Tt.” He releases your hands. “It is not up for discussion.”

“Vigilant Yaksha,” you have to insist, “I have an amulet to keep the monsters away. And I’ll just be back next week…I don’t want to be a bother. Really. I’ll be okay.”

He tilts his head, “what amulet?”

You lift the necklace up, “it’s from my friend. She knows more about ghosts but I-”

The Yaksha closes the distance between you. He scrutinises the sigil, his breath ghosting over your cheek. “There is a limit to the accumulation of evil spirits and demons an amulet can repel.”

“But it does work?”

He nods.

You can’t stand being this close to him while he is seemingly unaffected. Your heart is lodged in your throat but his expression remains as guarded as ever.

It was silly to even think about an adeptus like this.

A smaller, crazier voice that sounded a lot like Hu Tao points out that half adepti like Ganyu exist for a reason.

You avert your gaze, stepping back. “So you see, you don’t have to-”

He cuts you off. “It is not up for discussion.”

You nod, accepting he would do why he thought was right even if it did make you feel like you were bothering him. (He wasn’t even angry or bothered.)

The Yaksha was kind in his stilted way.

“I’m headed north to Qingce Village.” You pocket the last anchor and drink more water before embarking on the road home.

“Xiao.”

“Hm?”

“My name is Xiao.”

—

You fall into a pattern. Buy 3 incense sticks from Verr Goldet, burn them for the Yakshas. Deliver to Wangshu Inn and Bubu Pharmacy once a week. Collect Herbs from Mingyun Village and Jueyen Karst once a week. See Xiao in Jueyun Karst.

A rough pattern because Xiao came and went without notice. Sometimes he’d be waiting for you at Cuijue Slope until he began to climb up a mountain. At times he wouldn’t appear until you’d finished descending.

You made the lion’s share of conversation, complaining that Chongyun was in Mondstat to deal with some apparition and therefore was getting to eat all the tea pancakes in the world. You told Xiao about flu season and how much ginger Baizhu went through. You complained about having to dilute soap in water to keep pests away from your family’s crops.

“-I’ll need new boots when the caravan from Sumeru stops by,” you take a break on a rock to catch your breath. You’d never seen Xiao tire.

The soles of your boots were worn down. You could feel the rocks poke at your heels through the leather.

You let the silence reign in the picturesque valley.

Xiao doesn’t sit, but he closes his eyes as the sun chases away the clouds. You soaked up the warmth. The sun’s rays made the chilly breeze bearable.

He leans his head back, basking in the sun like a lizard.

You wonder what his animal form looks like. You’d only seen Rex Lapis on the Rite of Descension. But everyone knew Mountain Carver was a magnificent stag.

With his eyes closed, you find yourself staring at his visage shamelessly. He was striking, the graphic cut of his hair only accentuating his bone structure.

You wanted him to hold you again. You wanted him to run his hands over yours, to-

You quash the thoughts down.

Xiao opens his eyes, polearm already in hand as he spots something in the distance. “Wait here.”

You nod, used to this by now.

It was never a long wait, but Xiao would step away for minutes to deal with threats to Liyue.

You are glad to rest for a while longer.

—

“Why don’t you just tell him,” Chongyun splits a milk tea shaved ice with you, “how you feel,” he scoops up a brown sugar boba with his spoonful of shaved ice.

“Are you crazy? What if I make things awkward? Then he’ll never speak to me again! That would be so much worse.” You didn’t want to lose Xiao’s friendship.

You eat another spoonful of shaved ice, making sure to get some of the mochi, managing to look incredibly dejected while eating dessert.

Chongyun sighs. “You can’t complain and not do anything about it.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “I’m not taking advice from someone who can’t even order.”

“So? I’m proactive about it,” his voice cracks. “I ask you, or someone I’m with to order.”

You pat his hand, knowing it wasn’t fair to take your crush out on him. It wasn’t his fault Xiao made you want to kiss him everytime he tilted his head to indicate he was listening to you, or confused. It wasn’t Chongyun’s fault Xiao went still, buff arms flexing right before he took off to fight.

Archons, you were down bad for the Yaksha.

You couldn’t even enjoy your shaved ice.

—

“What’s your adeptal animal form,” you asks Xiao, breaking the serene silence atop Qingyun Peak. “You don’t have to answer that if it’s rude.”

He wouldn’t answer if he didn’t want to either way.

You no longer found it rude when he stayed silent. Xiao meant what he said, and therefore took more time to speak, and didn’t answer at all when he didn’t think his words added to the conversation. The more time you spent with him, the easier you were able to read him.

It wasn’t so much that he was an unfeeling adeptus, but rather he was usually occupied with hunting demons. He falters when he knows you’re joking but cannot understand the joke. His eyes widen when you hand him dried chrysanthemums for protection. It was a peasant superstition, but the idea of Xiao fighting alone weighed you down if you contemplated it for too long.

He sits down next to you, feet dangling over the edge. “A Peng.”

“Huh.” You vaguely recalled a giant bird story, but Adepti were usually giant animals that saved Liyue at some point.

“Similar to this,” Xiao points at his tattoo. The bright colour shines against his pale skin. He never sunburns unlike you.

You study the depiction closely. You brush your fingers against his skin, tracing the lines of the tattoo.

Xiao shivers under your touch, his eyes flutter closed.

“Are there more?”

“Yes.” His voice is distant, in the world of the adepti you couldn never understand. “They do not immerse themselves in mortal affairs.” Xiao turns his gaze towards you, the naked emotion in his eyes draws you in. You cup his cheek with your hand before you think better of it.

He leans into your touch. “Seldomly do they take a mortal appearance.”

“Would you ever show me?” You knew he’d be beautiful. It was Xiao, you’d love him in every shape and form.

He pulls away, jerking away from you.

You let him, drawing back, giving him space.

Xiao clenches his gaze, cor lapis eyes on you. His mouth parts, but he thinks better of it, wavering between thoughts. He finally looks away.

“Xiao? You don’t have to.” You remind him. You think he might disappear like smoke in the air. “Xiao?”

“It is not safe for you.”

“Huh?” You don’t follow. “There’s no hilichurls up here.”

“My karmic debt…I could not forgive myself if I tainted you as well.”

You don’t understand. “I’m always safe with you.”

His shoulders tense, the Yaksha grows taunt as a bow string.

You reach out. “Xiao,” you utter softly, caressing his cheek with the back of your hand, “you would never hurt me.” Your belief in that is absolute. You had more than enough belief for the both of you.

He meets your searching gaze, eyes wide in surprise. There’s a glassy quality to their soft brown shade.

Tears.

You know he’ll leave seconds before Xiao disappears in flashes of green and black.

–

You burn three incense sticks at your makeshift camp. The delivery at Wangshu in had taken longer than you should’ve. Verr Goldet was dealing with a broken door or something to do with a guest, you weren’t sure of the details. There were travellers from Monstadt so your food order had taken an hour. Nothing that was anyone’s fault, but now you had to camp out in Guili Plains. It was too late to try and make it to the Millelith Outpost in Liyue Pass. It was by far your favourite place to purchase artisan presents for Lantern Rite and birthdays, before they got marked up in Liyue Harbor.

So now you’re stuck here until daybreak.

You go back and forth between lighting a fire. It’s warm this far inland, without the ocean breeze or mountain winds, but a fire might attract hilicurls or treasure hoarders.

But if you were lighting incense sticks, you might as well have a hot dinner.

You kneel, praying to Rex Lapis and all the adepti. You pray that Xiao is safe, wherever he is, whatever he’s fighting.

You pray that Xiao is safe from monsters and the weight of his karmic debt.

—

You manage to deliver to Liyue Harbor and gather herbs in Qingxu Pool before heading back through Liyue Pass. Qingxu pool had more violetgrass than qingxu flowers but it was allergy season. Violetgrass was needed.

It wasn’t your favourite place to gather in, but these two herbs were the trickiest to find, loving spots out of the way, clumping in fours at best. You didn’t want to overpick and then lose a harvesting spot.

It’s sunset when you reach the Statue of Morax.

Your new boots were a mistake. You know there’s blisters on your ankles and soles. Breaking in leather sucked.

Your old boots left you with stinging pain whenever you stepped on any rock so there really wasn’t any winning.

Bowing your head at the statue, you say a little prayer to the geo archon. Morax. Rex Lapis. You’d made another successful trek. The god of contracts had built his nation in the most beautiful part of Teyvat. You could only hope to add to Liyue’s prosperity.

It’s hard to get back up, your muscles sore. Exhaustion always hit you in the last moments when rest is at hand. You were so close.

The people of Liyue pass were kind. They were always willing to host you for a night, forming a contract in exchange for something simple and silly like telling children a bedtime story or sweetflowers which were always abundant throughout Liyue. Uncle Liu generally wanted thunder god vine which was something you always carried.

You were happy to know you’d be fed and well rested tonight.

You hear the music, firecrackers going off in the dusk. The entire village was decorated in lanterns and colourful banners. A wedding!

Uncle Liu had many granddaughters of an age with you. Could one of them be getting married?

There would be roasted duck and lots of desserts like tofu pudding with red beans and almonds. Your mouth watered at the idea of fried fish and shrimp balls.

The folk music was carried by the wind.

It made the night take a magical quality to it. With the decorations and sky full of stars, it was a perfect backdrop to a celebration.

You smile, thinking of the silk flowers you could give the happy couple.

You look around. There’s pots of bamboo on the rock wall leading into the village proper.

The people are in reds and yellows, dancing and singing.

You grin, taking in the sight. You loved Liyue, you loved being from here and getting so many moments like this one. It wasn’t just Lantern Rite when the country was at its most beautiful.

You wonder if Xiao would go into Liyue Harbor with you for Lantern Rite. Hu Tao would talk his ear off but your heart fluttered at the idea of spending the festivities with him.

You’re so caught in your thoughts, they featured Xiao so often, that you nearly dismissed the Yaksha standing in the moonlight as a figment of your imagination.

You blink.

Xiao is still there, perched on a rock. It’s dark enough that no one would see him from the village, but his gaze is on the celebration.

You wonder why he doesn’t join in.

The Liu family was incredibly welcoming.

You make your way towards him instead, “Xiao?”

He jolts, standing up at once. “What is the matter?” There’s dried blood on his white shirt and dirt on his pants.

“Nothing,” you laugh lightly, “I’m always glad to see you.”

“Mm.” His gaze returns to the celebration.

You sit down next to him, sighing at the relief of being off your feet.

It’s nice: to listen to music with Xiao. While it’s not as energetic as Xinyan’s songs, there’s a beauty in the traditional wind and wood instruments. They were songs you’d known all your life.

“Are you alright?” You venture to ask. You’d never seen anything draw blood from Xiao.

“Mhm.” He nods. “The fight was long, but I persevered as I must to fulfil my sworn duty.”

You rest a hand on his shoulder, “so I don’t have to go get Baizhu then?” It was half a joke, half sincere worry.

“No.” Xiao shakes his head, “the statue of the Seven is all the healing I require.”

You nod, deciding to lay back against the rock. You were greedy for every minute you could spend with Xiao. Food, a warm bed, you could put those off for a while longer.

There was a tranquillity to just being besides Xiao.

Maybe Chongyun had been right. But the surge of panic that Xiao might vanish from your life kept you from saying anything about your feelings towards him.

Instead you reclined on the rock.

You release the hold on his shoulder, moving your hands to fiddle with the amulets around your neck. They were small fragile things, nothing compared to the adepti amulets Xiao wore.

He looks down at you, his expression tender in the starlight. You never tired of gazing at him, at the cut of his jaw and the light in his honeyed eyes. Unabashedly, you drink him in.

If he could look at you in such a way that had your heart palpitating despite not even touching you, then you could look at Xiao. You loved him.

He’d never so much as made a move to kiss you yet your heart was his. Every beat of your mortal heart belonged to the Vigilant Yaksha.

The music changes as a drumbeat joins the fray.

You close your eyes, stretching out like a cat. It felt nice. It was nice.

There was no pressure to make conversation.

Xiao brushes your hair out of your face. His hand lingers against your jawbone for a moment, too long to be a mistake.

You blink.

His mouth is parted in surprise at his own actions, he hunches in on himself, glancing back down at the party. He hugs his knees to his chest.

“You like music,” you ask.

“I do.”

Softly you offer, “we should go down there. Uncle Liu has always been kind to me and I always love an excuse to dance.”

Your words hang in the air.

You sit up, wrapping an arm around Xiao’s back lightly, unsure if he’d be okay with the action. You’re prepared for him to pull away immediately.

Instead, he replies, “I cannot endanger them for my own enjoyment.”

Your heart aches for him.

“I can listen from here.”

You squeeze his shoulders, “this is a great view,” you reply earnestly. There was no place else you’d rather be.

“I agree.” Xiao meets your gaze, brows drawn in thought.

He was so close you could see each individual eyelash of his. They were teal. Almost dark enough to be black at first glance.

You smile tenderly.

“I-,” he frowns at himself.

“What is it?”

Xiao cups your cheek with his hand. It’s the closest you’ve been since he saved your life and carried you to safety.

You swallow thickly, realising the love you felt for the man was mirrored in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you,” he asks in a hush whisper.

You don’t trust your voice. You nod, still not believing this was real, this was truly happening. Though you’d daydreamed that Xiao reciprocated your feelings, it had been more fantasy than a reality. You never believed it was possible.

But it was real.

The press of his lips against yours, Xiao’s breath warm on your skin, his thumb rubs your cheek. It was real. He kissed you with a softness you’d come to expect from the Yaksha.

He was a warrior; he moved through the world like a gentle breeze. His love for Liyue went further than a simple contract made long ago.

Xiao loved you.

Xiao kisses you softly and the moment is far too short.

He pulls back, tilting his head. Red dusts his cheeks, “I cannot say when I grew fond of you, but I have.” He lets out a sigh. “I wish to kiss you again?”

“I would very much like that,” you reply giddily, “I look forward to seeing you each week, and feel guilty when I don’t pass through Jueyun Karst.” You had to be mindful of how much you collected from any one spot.

“I would prefer that you did not go to Jueyun Karst,” Xiao admits, “but I selfishly enjoy your foolish ventures into Jueyun Karst.”

You laugh, full of love. You laugh knowing you are loved by the one you love.

You lean into him, kissing his cheek, “thank you for spending time with me.” You treasured every moment with him.

He nods, incredibly flustered.

So you kiss him again, granting his wish yourself.

His lips were slightly chapped. You hardly cared. He kisses you back clumsily. His hold on your cheek tightens, checking that you were solid, that you were kissing him.

You forget all about food and how tired you are. Your thoughts are full of Xiao.

Xiao caresses your cheek as you catch your breath.

You feel his heartbeat race from your hand on his back.

“Would you like to dance,” his voice was small.

You nod, beaming from delight. He liked you. He’d kissed you. Now he was asking to dance with you. Xiao, your Xiao.

“Yes.” Anywhere with Xiao was perfect.

#genshin impact #xiao x reader #xiao x you #adeptus xiao #in the air #when will this show up in the tags ?#3rd times the charm

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