#this stupid space station has been SO ANNOYING

[unidentifiedprimate]

Deep Space 9 - A Call to Arms

part 2

#minefield conversation #part 2 #i love this conversation because weyoun is actually visibly pissed off at first #this stupid space station has been SO ANNOYING #he is under pressure from the founders to keep dominion takeover moving smoothly #he has to deal with gul dukat on the regular #and now mines? MINES? #rude. #so he lets his facade drop just a little #lets himself be harsh and direct. #and that might work with the cardassians #but it doesn't work with sisko #so he puts his mask back on and plays the diplomacy game again. #weyoun #sisko #deep space 9

[honestsycrets]

dedication | young!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | young geneticist!miguel o'hara x scientist!reader

❛ type | oneshot, explicit.

❛ summary | alchemax is a dangerous place to work. miguel's new assistant may be over her head. maybe he can help her, though.

❛ tags | virgin reader, f!reader, shitty science, plot heavy, loose canon references, literary liberties, loss of virginity, overprotective Miguel o'hara, jealous miguel o'hara, some objectification, workplace politics, aftercare (as requested), corruption (is it tho?), bc what bc, Spanish is not translated, young!miguel, heel-foot fetish, somewhat romantic.

❛ fulfilled request | can we please have a miguel x virgin reader and he didn’t even know until he was already putting it in?? And then voila his corruption kink unexpectedly growS? @a--dedicated--fangirl

❛ sy’s notes | miguel sort of works on that whole corruption aspect throughout this fic, but i wanted to meld these two ideas together to create a reader who is entirely dedicated to Miguel. This piece was a bit long for me.

“Miguel, your new assistant is here.” 

On paper, you’re an excellent candidate for the genetics program. 

An excellent GPA, renowned company internships, decent publications, and a diverse upbringing. It was all good. Great, even. But as the head of the genetics program at Alchemax, he has a little thing called priorities. Interviewing everyone himself was low on the rung of shit he felt like he should be doing. There was, however, one little, itty bitty, tiny problem with bringing you on board.

“Dr. O’Hara? ¿Estas bien?”

That shirt-- is not meant to hold those-- His brain was left field, glimpsing at them. A slightly sheer button-up revealed the outline of your bustier and its inability to conceal your body. They should have been illegal. He was pretty sure they were illicit in the handbook on his table. He should really read that again. Maybe then he wouldn’t be salivating over something as simple as a co-worker-- He needed to get out of the lab. The bleached walls tightened around him, the space smaller than he remembered. He was going to get caught.

Realistically, the lab was full of witty people. Many of them were witty men with subpar looks and stupider dicks. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. Not only because your lips were plump, painted petal-pink, and kissable or because the depth of your sultry eyes went straight in the dick. No, but because that would be improper of a man of his stature to tell one of the only women in his care that she was too gorgeous for the job you were clearly qualified for. 

“Sí, coño,” He fixed his glasses, crooked on his broad nose. He stood up from his desk and grabbed his lab coat, swirling it around his broad shoulders. If he wasn’t mistaken, you tracked the movement with your eyes. “Do you want a cafecito? Miss…”

You told him your name. He mulled it over on his tongue, lathing it in a gentle acknowledgment. Cemented it in a place he wouldn't forget. You tinked your head to the side, your lashes fluttering when he cleared his throat. Great, just shocking-- 

“After you,” he headed for the door. He held it open for you, plastering his back to the wood. It didn't matter. You slid by closer than he’d prefer, your hand catching on his belt buckle with muttered apologies. This wasn’t going to end well. 

Cafecito is an excellent excuse to pull his dumbass together. 

It also calms his nerves, centers his mind, and allows him to compartmentalize. Whether or not you could hold your own wasn’t his issue, his issue was the necessity of someone he could trust. Ugly, beautiful-- so long as they were efficient, Miguel would make due. The cafeteria was a large and clean space. The many tables were crowded with wrap-around stations for poorly crafted, misery-inducing meals. Miguel paid and took a seat at a creaky table. One where he could see the door open, shut, and keep an eye on the comings and goings of meager scientists and annoying managers. 

“You’ll be working with me.” 

You pursed your lips around the warm cup of coffee, taking a ginger sip. He noted your lipstick stain that remained as you pushed the cup toward the middle of the table you shared with him. This damn suit vest was stifling. He gave you a long, slow look, tilting his head to the fact that you’d not drunk anything. It’d be rude to acknowledge.

“Delgado told me,” you smiled warmly. “He said you’re a genius. I don’t know that I believe in geniuses.” 

Hmph. Delgado, things fell into place. That sycophant knew what he liked. He also knew that Miguel was better than him, always was, and always would be. Miguel offered you a slick smile, convinced he could assure you otherwise if he needed to. “Delgado says a lot of things. I’m surprised he gave you to me.”

“Why is that, O’Hara?” the way his name slipped off your tongue was a hot sin. If only he believed in a god. His eyelids shifted over his eyes, heavy-lidded and dark.

“You’re beautiful. He likes to collect beautiful things,” Miguel tried, curious.  Your nails clicked in succession over the table. A repetitive click, click, click. He would be annoyed too if he were no more than a ploy. A distraction. Miguel wasn’t sure that it wasn’t working. His eyes flickered down, catching one of your palms curling into a tight fist, tension rolling through your fingers and up your arms. “He knows I do too.” 

You leaned in, close enough that he could spot the unique freckles spread out in a crescent moon beneath a layer of makeup on your face. Beautiful. “I’m not here to belong to you, O’Hara. I hope you know that.” 

He was off to a great, fantastic start.

 “Understood.” Miguel leaned back in his chair, a smirk creeping up his lips. Or, believe that you believed that. You spared him any more mincing comments. Appeased by his suggestion, you brought your drink back to your lips.

“Good. What are we sequencing?” 

“Me.” 

You swallowed. “You? You can’t be--” 

Mhm, he stared, lips pressed tightly together. “You’ll code my DNA. Then we’ll splice it.” 

"With what?"

"You'll see."

“Is this your little,” you swirled your finger in a circle. “Pet project?” 

Unfortunately not, he would have liked to say. That information was confidential, and though you worked on the project, there were levels to his willingness to involve you in the delicate flow of workplace politics. Still, you might make a healthy distraction from his work. Miguel took a swig of his cafecito, boring into the black substance.

“Something like that.” 

Having a pretty assistant means things don’t always get done according to schedule. Not quickly enough, not by far. There is a time limit to everything at Alchemax. The quicker, the better. Thus this project demanded more hours of his time. The project was spliced between the work required of him by superiors and you, your quirks, and your preferences. 

Miguel has learned a great many things about you in a short amount of time. You don’t appreciate misplaced pet names. You actually can’t handle coffee because of the caffeine or the sugar. He also learns things about himself. How little he likes when Delgado comes to check on progress because he isn’t actually checking on shit. He's checking you out. 

He likes to weasel his nasty fingers around the door, peering in to try and find out what specimen he’s actually working on. Miguel was much too smart for that. His beady eyes caught Miguel over your shoulder, mumbling up to him about a new finding in tests you ran earlier that day. Your face mask twirled around your index finger, finally free and at a documentation workspace.   Funny, because he clearly redacts information from your well-recorded notes on the daily. You refuse to include less.

“Hey Mike,” he said. “How are things… Oh hey, you. You settling in, honey? Mike treating you ok? I can discipline him for you.”

“As if you could,” Miguel huffed. 

But Delgado spying on you, the way you record progress by pouting out your lips, shifting between paper and your lab reports, was intolerable. Because... well, he has sensitive information on there. Your nose scrunches in distaste, but you bow your head just slightly as a hello. He might be his supervisor, but Miguel doesn’t need one to know why this asshole is in his lab turning his smarmy brown eyes over the way you sit: one leg over the other. You seem to realize it too, trailing your eyes over his gaudy suit to Miguel’s sinewy hand on your shoulder. 

“Stop being a creep,” Miguel complained, “She has actual work to do.”

“Actual work? As opposed to--“

“Yes, what you do.” Miguel spat out. You eschewed a giggle, turning your face over a pristine white lab jacket that thankfully, you had no qualms in wearing. Otherwise, he might not finish any work in the lab at all. 

“I supervise--

“You’re still talking but we’re not listening,” Miguel waved him off, plucking up papers by your side. Your eyes snap up to Miguel’s deep chocolate eyes hidden behind the thin frame of his metal glasses, waiting for a proper response. “Goodbye, Aaron.”

Miguel walks to the door, locks it with a click, and returns to your side. You glance at his white lab coat, fluttering around his tapered waist. He loves the way your eyes look at him with a soft, inviting expression, beseeching him to come to sit by your side as he always did. “Not a fan of Delgado, I take it.” 

“Are you?” Miguel sits with his legs spread, his fingers threading through his thick brown hair. You set your papers down, swiveled toward him. The wheels of your rolling chair squeak on either side of his thick, black boots. His eye catches your thick thighs, squashed between your midi skirt, its atrocious slip causing him discomfort. His hand leaves his thick hair, dropping in unison side by side. 

“I can’t stand being called honey, Mike.” 

“Shut up.”

The days proceed similarly. Days filled with brushing past him as he slides in samples and reagents. He might lose a sample, clattering on the floor, and you always rush to help him clean up. Lunch together, because no matter how late he eats, you’re there beside him. Then as night falls, you stay until he has finished whatever he needs to do.

“Time to eat something,” you slipped into his office. The clock ticked past midnight. Miguel flicked through handwritten pages of information that did not need to be recorded in computer files. You watched his eyes scan over the ink on the page, acknowledging you with a grumpy grunt. Not now, not when he was so close to finishing the last section of the project.

“Empanada,” you turned his palm over, placing the flaky pastry in his hand. Caramelized apple. He loved a good apple empanada. He watched as you walked over to the coffee maker, drawing him a warm cafecito just how he liked it. Miguel dropped his pen, stretching out his aching spine. 

“Gracias. From where?” 

“I made them,” you set down the cup a little harder than intended. The surface rippled, throwing hot coffee drips onto his pages. His eyes flickered up from the pages to your eyes. Without thinking, he blathers:

“That so?” A pause. “Don’t you have a man?” 

“Miguel. With this sequencing project, you’re the only man in my life. Shut up and eat the empanada.” 

“Huh. Good. I like that.” He swallowed the empanada with a bob of his head, his tongue lathing over his teeth for any more of the sweet sugar. He stood up, finding your expression soft, drawn out by a sense of longing that he couldn’t imagine he saw.  

“You like my sad love life?” 

Yes.

“No, we have a company event. A ball,” Miguel chided, his tone gentling as he slipped away from his desk, abandoning his steamy coffee on his desk. He backed out of the doorway, “It’s all Stone’s politics. You know how these things are. I have to go. Come with me.” 

“Is that a request or an order?” 

“A date.” 

I’d love to. Your words were the only thing that made tonight bearable. Slinking his tanned skin into a dark blue suit that cinched everything too tight was… unbearable. It clung to his skin like a second skin and choked off his air. But it might be worth it to see your face-- just maybe. He tracked the fluttering tails of fish behind bulletproof glass, following them as they fluttered away into their rock. He wished he could too. 

“Miguel?” 

“You’re here,” he turned around, dropping the champagne he idly held in his hand. It went forgotten by his boot as you called his name again. His gaze fixed on yours, the slinky navy blue dress caused his heart to thrum through his chest, chasing the sight of your body at his feet, picking shards of glass up with the aid of a worker, apologizing profusely for the mess. A soft puff of breath slipped from his lips as you stood back up, gripping your purse a little harder in your hands. He ran his hand over his jaw, drawing himself back to his senses.

“Miggy,” he husked out. “Call me Miggy.” 

“You look handsome, Miggy,” his name felt unreal on your lips until he felt the pressure on his elbow. Your soft hands slunk around his, cradling him for some security in the face of the large doors. He shook himself back to his senses. Right, there was a reason he was here. “But shouldn’t we go?” 

He should have-- but did he want to? No, not really. He didn’t want to see Stone’s greasy face, let Aaron take a peek at how you looked dolled up, or any of the rest of these fuckers. What he wanted was something else entirely. 

“Listen.” Miguel stopped, his other hand coming to the jeweled bracelet on your wrist. The doors to the ballroom lapsed, groups of older men filtering in and out with their pieces of the night: doting wives, longing husbands, and partners that their wives or husbands probably didn’t know about. “Don’t wander off from me. They’re all snakes. All of them.” 

“Even you?” 

“Hermosa,” you didn’t leer at him. “I’m the least of your worries.” 

He wasn’t wrong. The ballroom was dolled up in lush fabrics, fine china, and a copious amount of food as it was every year. Miguel found the attempt to distract from what really went on behind closed doors at Alchemax a bit cloying. This year the music was at least tolerable. It filtered out into the ballroom in a syrupy melodies driven on by the soft, promises of rich men for the exchange of sex. For much of the night, he could stomach the various men poking and prodding at him about his impending research. So long as you were here.

“Miggy,” you breathed, a hot puff of air against his ear. He leaned down, his hand atop of yours. “Will you dance with me?” 

Dance? Miguel had two left feet-- it’s why he was a geneticist. For all the work you did on his behalf in the lab, including this very night, he owed you the benefit of whatever you wanted. He searched out a quiet area, one where the only disruption could be the stream of moonlight in through a window. You preferred it over the wall of vivacious men and over-powdered women. He preferred it over the atrocity of his footwork.

“It’s not much of a date,” Miguel’s hand slid around yours. He encompassed your small palm with his large hand, the other gliding across the soft, exposed skin of your back. You swayed with him, side to side. He was an awful dancer, but there was something endearing about that. He saw it in your eyes, the glimmer of curiosity, gliding your dark heels against the inside of his foot. Damn, he still sucked.

“No,” you agreed, shifting to take the lead. He followed your steps. Right, back, left, up. Maybe he stepped on your long dress once or twice, too. Shock, he cursed again, stepping over your foot.

“You’re remarkably bad at this.” You settled your head on his chest, letting your box steps fade into little more than the shifting of your hips. 

“I know. Let’s just-- sway?” 

“Swaying is good.”  

“O’Hara,” boomed Stone. But of course— peace couldn’t last forever. Like a bullet through the chest, a voice caused him to turn in startle. His tan cheeks flushed with warmth, feeling cut off from the cover of others. He was dressed in the most gaudy of clothes that almost seemed to match the crooked expression on his pale face. No matter how many times he tried to fix it, it always looked… wrong. 

Stone’s hands came together, clapping multiple times to force the crowd of politicians, scientists, and bought-in participants to fade away. His voice caused Miguel to growl, a low rumbly noise that you soothed with your breasts pushing gingerly against his arm. He could do it. He could handle this pompous little shit-- “And who is this beauty? A new girlfriend, perhaps? Fiance? O’Hara could do with a wife. Settle him down, y’know.”

Miguel huffed out of his nostrils. “This is my lab partner,” he cleared his throat, leaning forward. “For… the project.”

“Her? A lab partner? Ha!” 

Shock. He didn’t have to look at you to know you were insulted. Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing out the tension as you smiled through the interaction, taking over for Miguel. “We have measurable results.” 

“That’s what I like to hear, sweet thing. Now, Miguel, Aaron has found a test subject…”

“I’ll interview them.” 

“No need! I--” 

“Excuse me, Mr. Stone. I’ll let you two talk,” you slipped away, your heels clicking off into the busy crowd. Stone was talking. Miguel knew he should listen closely. His half-formed plan to see what the future held for his research was wafting into the air, wisps of it in his ear. Tomorrow-- test-- can you? Panic blinded his senses. He could find you nowhere in the room, and even if he did, would he be too late? 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine, it’s… excuse me.” 

The issue with falling for someone was the scythe of his fear. His position was inherently risky. No matter how many groups of people he cut through trying to find you, you weren’t there. No tiny little appetizers of shrimp on half a skewer. No booze, because your head would swim. Not near the bathrooms, either. He rushed down the steps when he found you, just before the large iron gates, staring up at the stars peppering the sky. 

At your feet, Aaron. His drunken fingers trying and failing to guide the strap off of your ankle. You, of course, sat there staring dumbly down at his failed attempts to do something as simple as fix your damn heel.

“I’ll take it from here.” Miguel booted Aaron out of the way. Who, with his sloppy sloshed curses, tried to win a fight with him. He eventually won out. Aaron slunk away, somewhere up the steps. Miguel wasn’t counting. “You didn’t listen.” 

“Hm?” 

Miguel loosened both straps, sliding his open palm under your foot for one then the other. You gazed at him, sliding the black heels off your feet, tutting his tongue at the blistered back of your feet. 

“I told you not to wander off.” 

“I just wanted to see the stars. Besides, it was just Aaron.” 

“It’s never just Aaron. It’s Aaron and Stone.” Miguel’s eyebrows pushed against one another, recording your failure to listen. You crossed one leg over the other, sliding your toes over his silk tie, kept beneath a vest. He knelt before you, searching your eyes for the right answer. “You don’t know… what you’re getting into. I’m trying to keep you safe.” 

 “I don’t need you to. I can take care of myself, Miguel. Please don’t--” you sighed. “Don’t be like them.” 

He knew what you meant. Like Aaron, peeling off your shoes at the sign of discomfort because you were a pretty woman. Or Stone, who couldn’t comprehend your value as a scientist. Those who doubted you because of your color, gender, or a mixture of the two. His mouth twisted in frustration. He was in deep. Whatever you desired, he wanted to give. It came at a price.

“Are you mine,” the words came out stiff, “or theirs?” 

“Miggy,” you turned the word over on your tongue, willing him to stand down. His dark eyes settled on yours, unmoving. “Why do I have to pick?” 

“You can’t have both. You’ll have to choose. One day.” 

Your mind worked. He knew from the way you pursed your lip out, then in, puncturing its pillowy surface with your teeth. You shifted your gaze to the water, the stream coursing down the unfeeling stone. Miguel's fingers ran across your inner thigh, causing you to gaze down at him. The steps of others on the other side of the fountain, fading into the depths of the night caused you to break his gaze. Miguel offered you his hand, fitting the shoes under his other arm as he walked toward the valet. You took his hand and interlaced your fingers.

“Do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” you said, though the words felt thready and thin, nary a whisper. Something in the undercurrent of your voice concerned him. A thread that needed to be snipped, convinced of the vileness of the city-- of who you worked for. 

He doesn’t make mistakes. 

But he left the project code on his desk. It should have been there, yet, the corpse of a decrepit, awful creature withered on the lab floor proved otherwise. Someone had taken it because he was distracted. As a result, someone lost their life... even if it was Stone's doing.

Now, scouring through his papers, his hands tremored like a common drug addict. He supposed he was one, a druggie, tremoring like a shot hungry, Rapture crazed-- 

“Miggy?” 

He snapped around. His gaze melded your figure into one beautiful blurb, even with the glasses on his broad nose. It was your voice, coded in something close to concern. Miguel ran his hands through his hair, long strands falling messily over his eyes and cheekbones. He flattened his hands out atop his head.

“What are you looking for?” 

“The notes,” he weathered a breath. He doddered about the room, throwing a stack of paper onto the floor. They crumpled over the floor, mixed projects, notes on the specimen, but none were his. “Where are my notes?” 

“You’re sick,” your voice broke gently, as if speaking them alone helped. A horrid crack of laughter slipped from his throat, drawing into a long lament as he repeated the words after you. Sick, you said, he was sick. If being sick was the least of his issues, he would have been a happy man. Your steps rang into his ear, heavier than before, painful and loud. He crumpled onto the couch in his office, his hands cupping them. Your soft hands coursed over his chest, unbuttoning his starched button-up and sliding it down his muscular upper arms. “This might hurt.” 

No kidding, needles always hurt. But the instantaneous relief that flooded his system overrode the momentary pain. As your fuzzy figure came into focus, he recognized the drug that you set aside. 

“You didn’t--” 

“You were right, Miggy, about the-- Mr. Sims.”  Miguel gazed at you, leafing through novels of notes with trembling hands. He cursed himself for subjecting you to seeing that. Not quite human, not quite... The twisted look on the poor man’s face. What months of research with one another had offered. He would fix it. He knew the research was on point. It was the application that was lacking.

“I have a copy of your notes,” you murmured as if someone could hear. They likely could. “¿Ay, puñeta, dónde está? Ah! Here, here it is. Your… profile.” 

“You kept it,” he glanced down at the hastily scribbled note attached to the clip. ‘Miguel’s profile’ alongside a soft pink heart. He stopped your hands from thumbing through another leaflet. His eyes traced the dry ink of the heart. His thumb moved to stroke it, catching the sight of bubbling tears welling over in your eyes out of the corner of his eye. The tears slid down your full cheeks, triggering his discomfort to well up in his stomach. Miguel shifted closer, flicking fat droplets off your slight jaw.

“Hermosa,” Miguel shifted his head, cocking his eyebrow. “¿Que te pasa?”

“I should have listened to you Miggy,” you began, inhaling air forcefully through your nostrils. Breathe, you murmured. Miguel's soft hand cupped the back of your neck like a collar. You were happy to be collared by his hand, it felt safe. 

His eyes narrowed, thumb caressing the loose strands of hair at your nape. “You should have. You know I'll take care of you."

You nodded.

"You have to be fully dedicated to me.” 

“I am.” 

“Show me.” You fluttered your eyes, the gears of your mind working to understand what he meant. His hand fell away to trace the bow of your black blouse. He tugged on the knot, slipping the bow loose and running his fingers over your exposed cleavage below. “Take off the blouse.” 

Was it necessary? Some might have said no-- but sex, in its connective nature-- was the ultimate dedication. At the end of it all, that's what he craved: your eyes, your actions, all born with him in mind. With trembling fingers, you untucked your shirt from your black slacks. Miguel sat back, tracking the soft lace of your balconette bra teasing his eye. You loitered for a minute too long, enough for him to lift his thick eyebrow.

“Don’t stop now,” he said. Your knees knocked together, slipping the shirt over and off your torso before draping it on the arm of his couch. Your bra followed quickly after, slipping out of the twisted straps. You skimmed your hands over your breasts, holding them for comfort.

"No." Miguel flicked his fingers, motioning for your hands to move from your thick nipples.  You pushed your breasts together, allowing him to marvel at them a second longer. “Que maravilla... You have no idea how long I’ve waited. Go on, take off the rest now.” 

You suckled in breath, sliding the button of your pants loose. Then the zipper, its cloth scratching your thighs on its way to pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them, joining them too with your shirt. Miguel sat up, running his calloused fingers over the side of your hip and waist. His thumbs hooked in your panties, drawing them down over your pussy, a moist spot on your panties connecting a small string of wetness to your pussy. His palm slid between your thighs, pinned by your thighs pressed together, whether out of an innate need for more pressure or shyness to show him how wet you were. Hm. Miguel melded your ass, striking your skin with his large palm, it jiggled.

“Miggy,” you breathed, shy and intimidated. “I have to tell you something…” 

“Lay down,” he told you. 

“But Miggy, what if someone…” Your eyes darted away from his, chewing on his cheek as you slid back down beside him. You settled on the couch, your legs thrown over his thighs. The couch was stiff, hard against your neck. You stole a haughty glimpse at his face, focused entirely on coursing his palms over your calves and thighs, then back down to your slight toes. He ground your feet over his stiff cock, obscured by the fabric of his slacks. He felt big-- bigger than you could have imagined from the look on your face. 

“¡Basta!” Miguel growled, “No one is going to come in. Let me see you.” 

You flushed. 

“You want me to…” you glanced down, your curls were soft to the touch. 

“Touch yourself for me.” 

With your heart strumming in your chest, you shifted your hand down, spreading your lips, soft and wet. You were so wonderfully shy to follow his orders, the pads of your fingers rubbing along your outer lips, massaging them warm and swollen. You buried your eyes into your other arm, dragging up and down, over and over. A delightful sigh greeted his ear, ensuring that though you were too embarrassed to look at him, you loved it. He allowed it for now-- because he was a gracious, forgiving man. 

“Shock,” Miguel shuffled at the button and zipper of his pants, freeing himself from his slacks. He spat into his palm, stroking over his fleshy length, squishing his cock against your foot. Your toes curled over his cockhead, engrossed in Miguel’s rumbling pants, the soft pleasure that bloomed from his chest. Your eyes trained on his lips, the slight breath suckled between his teeth. Your fingers glazed over your stiff clit, pausing as though you needed his permission, just how he wanted it. Your sweet submission. 

His eyebrow perked. “You can touch it.” 

“Oh,” you glanced down, tracing the way Miguel fisted himself, swirling up to his cockhead, along fat veins and the bubble of salty fluid on his tip. His permission seemed to spur something else in you, flicking your swollen clit to the sound of his pleasured growling, your own pleasure growing in tandem with his. 

“¡Ya!” he annunciated, watching as you failed to stop. All at once he stopped his ministrations. A sigh escaped his chest as he pushed himself up, smacking your hand away from your puffy cunt. His cock bobbed between your bodies. You wanted to touch it, but couldn’t.

"Wait," you cried out. His cock twitched as he lowered his hips down, drawing sweet lubricant on his cock, stroking your pussy. He leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a warm kiss. He dipped his hand down, his cockhead prodding and poking, dipping lower with the aid of his hand. 

“MiggyI’mavirgin,” you said all at once, his cockhead nudged against your entrance. Miguel’s head about snapped as he looked up, eyes popped wide open in disbelief. Before he could quite form a coherent thought, your hands shot out to grip his suit vest, stopping him where he was.

“¿Qué dejiste? Say that again?” 

“I haven’t… I haven't had sex,” you murmured. He hadn’t put it together. Your shyness, the awkward way you shuffled around, loosening your bra and hiding your perfect breasts from his eyes. The words were finally out in the open but didn't register.

"A..." Miguel fisted his cock, once, then twice, shifting back to kneel before you. Your eyes fell on his muscular thighs, the way his hand fisted his dick. “You’re a virgin?”

“I’m too old for this,” you mumbled, hiding your eyes with your palms. Miguel shifted to cast aside your hands from your eyes, his muscular body caging you underneath, looking for an explanation. “I just. Between school, work, I never had time.” 

Not that he was complaining.

"No boyfriend?"

You shook your head. He couldn't believe his luck. Not only were you gorgeous, but you were untouched. His, completely and fully. He liked it better that way-- to be the first memory smeared in your head. So that when you looked back on this moment, right now, it would forever be marked by his face.

"It's mine," he blurted out all at once. "I want your first to be mine."

His hand dropped down to your cunt. The pad of his middle finger worked at your entrance as though he were exploring the truth of your statement, stretching you with the aid of his fingers. You were tight, it had to be true.

You nodded, face buried deep in your arm. It didn’t take but moments for him to draw his hand back, suckling the lubricant from his fingertips. You distantly registered his words, “Damn it, you... you don't know what you do to me.” 

Before you could say a word more, Miguel positioned the head of his dick against your slippery virgin hole. You clenched, glancing down between your bodies again, as you had a dozen times, anxiously waiting. Miguel hushed you, the repetitive shushing of his lips soothing you into complacency, forcing your muscles to relax. “It might hurt. But the pain won’t last,” he assured you.

He rolled his hips forward. His sharp exhale shook with every centimeter that gave way. Your walls were forced apart, suffocating you on the shock of adjusting to having someone, no not someone, Miguel-- your Miguel, sinking into your tense body. He throbbed, twitching in your body. His hands fisted in the aged couch, catching the breath in his chest. 

“Ay, Miggy,” your nails dug into his shirt, loose around his firm muscles. “Miggy, no puedo,” 

“You can, you’re so good, eres tan buena,” Miguel swept your lips between his, taking the moment of your surprise to bury himself further, swallowed by your cunt that resisted his intrusion. Your lips fluttered in the kiss, keened out a cry. The pain of his dick, forcing its way through your passage is quelled by the knowledge that he’s here, with you, his girth forcing you apart, stretching you apart, seating himself flush against your womb. His voice was caramelized, sugared over, and so good. “Look at how well you’re taking me already.” 

“Coño, that’s a tight pussy,” He slid his hips back, the warm sensation of his withdrawal pulling free before shoving back in, a cry shoving forth from your lips, filling his office and the connected lab with your cries. He might have heard someone draw the door open, his hips driving back in, centered on the magnificent groans that stuttered free from your chest with Miguel’s careful thrusts. You keened his name, a repetitious Miggy, Miggy, Miggy-- it was Aaron, probably. He recognized the way his feet drug on the floor. 

He hoped he didn’t just hear it. He hoped he saw it too, the way his balls slapped against your ass, the mess of blood soaking the already unhygienic couch, the way his cock pulsed. You were blissed out, so full and well of him like no one else ever had-- because you were his, and his alone. It wasn’t just sex. It was more than that. From Aaron, whose shuffled steps fell out of his office, to any other little bitch in the office who had their own gain. 

“Damn,” Miguel shifted back, hooking his hand around your thigh to drag you back onto his dick. He swirled his thumb against your stiff clit, whirling it around in one circle, then another, and by the third your knees knocked together, bearing down on his cock to hold him still. “I can’t--” you stuttered out, I can’t--” 

“You’re going to,” he hissed. “You’re going to cum right here, right now, split open on my dick.” 

With another circle, you croaked an ugly cry, a terrible, ugly cry that Miguel couldn’t find any more beautiful as your body buzzed around him, tightening and squeezing your already tight cunt around him. Blissful pleasure radiated there, riding his dick for the friction against your virgin walls, your thoughts fading into a realm of insistent pleasure, where thoughts were space mush.

Miguel withstood the pressure on his cock,  clamping his hand down on your hip. His thrusts stuttered, filling your belly with whip after whip with his full hot cum. Your body twitched in the throes of his orgasm. He tracked his eyes down to your body, withdrawing with a bubbly pop of his dick from your abused hole, the intermingling of cum and virginal blood dribbling down your cheeks. 

Your gaze tracked Miguel, pressing his lips toward yours one more time. You shifted on the couch, legs pathetically tremoring. Miguel chuckled and walked toward his electric kettle, papers crunching underneath his feet, “Don’t bother moving. Not that you could, anyway.”

He warmed a warm cloth with hot water, testing its temperature on his palm before sitting beside your crumpled legs, spreading your legs to clean his mess and sooth the abrasive way he took you. He spread your lips, ensuring you were clean before he would flip the cloth, dropping it on top of your vulva. 

“You know you’re mine,” he asked, though it came out as a statement. With another cloth, Miguel cleaned his soft cock of the mess, exhaustion of the sex and what was to come returning to his gentle, deep voice. 

“Sí,” you answered. 

“And you’d do anything for me. Only me.” 

The words were laced with something more than a suggestion, but an affirmation of your loyalty. Your love. You pushed yourself up, hanging off his arm after he tucked himself into his pants. “Para siempre.” 

He leaned down, plucking the bundle with his sequenced DNA information. Your eyes coursed the information on the page, darting up to his tired eyes. You wanted to ask why or what he knew. Miguel knew it didn't matter. You were his now, from the top of your head to the bottom of your gorgeous toes. You trusted him fully. As you should. With the empty vial of Rapture sitting beside him, forgotten, he spared you a mincing smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“Good. Let's fix our project.” 

#miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #spider 2099 imagine #across the spiderverse imagine #atsv imagines #atsv imagine #spider 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut

[steddio]

Eddie can’t listen to music anymore. God knows he wants to, would give anything to lose himself in a particularly intense guitar riff, or bang on the steering wheel of his van like it’s a drum kit, or just generally annoy those in his vicinity by refusing to turn down “that noise” (as his neighbors call it). Music was his life, his sanctuary, his whole reason for being on this stupid, fucked up planet.

But now, music makes him jumpy, panicky. Hands clenched into fists, the back of his neck prickling. He can’t help but look for the threat, for the reason music is being played. Eddie finds himself sitting in silence now, when before he couldn’t stand it. His bedroom eerily quiet, cassettes shoved in a shoebox, stereo covered with an old t-shirt. He drives with the windows down, radio off, listening only to the mundane sounds of small town Indiana.

He can’t even play guitar. Three days after he woke up covered in bandages, head aching, Wayne had brought Eddie his sweetheart, mumbling something about not wanting Eddie to be bored in the hospital. Eddie had tried to play, he really had. But just touching the strings sent him back into that life-or-death mindset, and suddenly his mouth felt like it was filled with blood and he couldn’t breathe, and the nurse had to rush in and help him release his death grip on the guitar, take deep breaths, count to ten.

After, he threw the provided pamphlets about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder in the trash and tried to convince himself he didn’t really need to play guitar anymore. As Dustin is so fond of reminding him, he already lived the most metal moment of all time, embodied it, played for the lives of everyone he loves, for Chrissy’s death, for Hawkins’s survival. His sweetheart helped save the world, and now it’s enough that she’s only decoration in their new government payout trailer. It has to be enough, because he can barely look at her, can’t touch her without shaking, without almost throwing up.

His friends must notice. They must, because he’s been avoiding band practice, hasn’t scheduled any D&D sessions, staying far away from everything that used to bring him joy because it doesn’t. Not anymore. And sometimes he wishes they would say something, that anyone would acknowledge this 180 degree shift in Eddie’s entire being. But Jeff and Gareth are giving him space, letting him heal. And the kids are kids, dealing with their own trauma and shit. So it’s just Eddie and the silence.

—

Eddie is listlessly staring at his bedroom wall, actively trying to think about nothing, when he hears a car horn honking. He ignores it, sure that it’s irrelevant to him. The horn honks again. Then a third, fourth, fifth time, followed by, “Munson, dude, I know you’re in there!”

And what the fuck. Because Eddie knows that voice, and there’s absolutely no reason for Steve Harrington of all people to be outside his trailer. They’re not even friends! They’re just… trauma bonded. Or whatever. Maybe Eddie should have read those pamphlets.

He peeks his head out the window to see Steve shading his eyes with one hand, the other on his hip. Eddie waggles his fingers in a hesitant wave, even more surprised when Steve’s face breaks out into a grin.

“There you are, buddy! Come on, let’s go!”

Eddie begrudgingly grabs his jacket, swinging it on as he slams the door of the trailer behind him.

“Um, dude, what’s up?”

Steve only waggles his eyebrows in response. “You’ll see, but c’mon, we’re running late.”

Eddie slides into the front seat of Steve’s BMW, eyes glancing to the radio, which is blasting some Top 40 station that not only sounds like nails on a chalkboard but is already making Eddie uneasy. Steve hops in the drivers seat and, as if he can read Eddie’s mind, turns the radio off before pulling out of the trailer park.

The ride is quiet, but comfortable. Steve has the windows down, it’s a breezy summer day, and Eddie feels something underneath the listlessness that has infiltrated his brain like cobwebs. Anticipation, maybe even excitement.

Steve pulls into the Wheelers’ driveway, and Eddie follows him inside the house, down to the basement, where Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will have set up their D&D table, Will at the head wearing… is that a wizard hat?

“Welcome back from banishment, Eddie!” Dustin shouts as soon as he sees him, smiling widely. And Eddie can’t help but smile back. Because these are his kids, and he missed them, and he really did feel banished even if it was somewhat self-imposed.

Four hours later, after part one of a thrilling campaign led by Will (who really is a promising DM, Eddie has to admit), he no longer feels like that. He’s glowing, breathless, warm. The feeling buoys him through the car ride home, Steve having left and then returned to drive Eddie back. And if that good feeling allows Eddie to glance a little too long at Steve’s hair blowing in the wind, his left hand loosely resting on the steering wheel and his right on his thigh, then that’s Eddie’s business and no one else’s.

They fall into a routine. Steve picks Eddie up, drives him to the Wheelers’ house for an afternoon of D&D, and drives him home. Eddie tries not to be too obvious in his appreciation of Steve in the summer sun but he’s just a man, okay, and Steve didn’t earn his reputation for nothing.

Every time, Eddie offers to drive himself, but Steve just laughs, shakes his head. “Get in the car, Munson.”

And every time Eddie does, Steve turns the radio off. Doesn’t say anything, doesn’t acknowledge it, but their car rides are blissfully quiet. Light and easy in a way that silences aren’t when he’s alone.

—

It’s pouring rain one afternoon, rattling the roof of the trailer. Eddie is contemplating whether he can get away with smoking out his bedroom window when he hears a familiar car horn. As he approaches the car, Eddie hears what can’t be, but what is unmistakably the sound of Steve… singing? Softly, almost under his breath, Steve is singing along to the radio. He cuts off when he sees Eddie, offering a half wave and a lopsided grin. As Eddie slides into the front seat, Steve turns the radio off.

“Hey why do you do that, man?” The question slips out before Eddie can stop himself.

“Do what?” Steve looks confused.

“Turn the radio off. When I get in the car.” Now that he’s asked, Eddie finds that he needs to know. Why of all possible people, it’s Steve who’s been the most accommodating.

Steve shrugs, puts the car into drive, turns onto the main road before answering. “It bothers you,” he says simply.

Eddie must look confused when Steve glances over because he continues. “I never see you listen to music anymore. I figured it must bother you. And hey man, if anyone understands fucked up reactions it’s me. I can’t hear fireworks or see Christmas lights anymore.”

Eddie barely manages to nod his thanks, to present a facade of normalcy while his mind is racing a million miles an hour. He knows that Steve has been through some shit, clearly he had even before Eddie walked headfirst into whatever the fuck is going on in Hawkins. But he never expected Steve to be so… observant. Not of him at least.

The D&D session takes his mind off the mortifying knowledge that Steve is paying attention to him. They’re approaching Will’s grand finale, and Eddie is caught off guard by how normal it feels. To be excited about a campaign, to mess around with the kids. To laugh, unironically.

The ride home is tenser than usual but as they pull into the trailer park, Eddie musters the courage to reach out. To touch Steve’s arm and mumble a quiet but sincere “thank you.” He doesn’t stay to see if Steve responds, but the pads of his fingers burn where they met Steve’s bare forearm, and he falls asleep that night with the ghost of a pop song in his head.

—

A week later, Eddie finds himself in the backseat of Steve’s car, his usual shotgun seat occupied by Robin. In situations like these, it’s hard not to feel left out, like a third wheel. Steve and Robin orbit around each other in a way that Eddie never has with anyone. But their jubilance is addictive and Eddie can’t help but be drawn in. A lone planet in their binary star system.

They’re telling some inside joke, something about Muppets, and Steve is glowing in the way he only ever does with Robin or Dustin, beaming like a carefree teenager instead of gazing sadly out of eyes that look too old for his face. Eddie is breathless, finds himself laughing along, eyes glued to Steve’s mouth (his smile, not his lips, Eddie lies to himself). Robin launches into song and there’s a moment when Steve joins in, and it’s ridiculous but possibly the most glorious thing Eddie has ever heard because it’s music. It’s music and it makes him feel safe.

After a blissful few seconds, Steve cuts off, as if catching himself, turns to meet Eddie’s eyes, face halfway between joy and panic. Robin doesn’t seem to notice, and Steve has one hand up as if to stop her before Eddie shakes his head slowly, starts to smile. Steve’s face begins to relax again, one eyebrow raising in question.

“Don’t stop,” Eddie mouths.

Steve turns back to Robin, picking up the thread of their foolish imitation. And maybe Eddie is still lying to himself because is this really music? But he thinks it might be the most beautiful sound regardless.

They drop Robin off at home and Eddie climbs up to the front seat, winking at Steve’s feigned outrage about “the leather, dude!” Steve backs out of Robin’s driveway, gets halfway down the block before he pulls over.

“Hey I’m sorry about earlier,” he starts softly. “I got carried away. I hope—. Well. I hope you’re okay, man. I know music bothers you.”

Eddie feels a blush rising at this ridiculous, lovely man and his concern. Steve is looking at Eddie, brow furrowed, assessing every minute detail of his face as if searching for evidence of injury. Eddie wants to reach out and smooth it with a touch, to make Steve laugh again in that carefree way. He settles for reaching out in a different way, laying a piece of himself bare.

“It doesn’t. Bother me, that is. Not when it’s you.”

The silence that follows is expectant, Steve’s expression hard to read. They’ve been on the precipice of something for weeks now, and Eddie has stepped off the ledge. But as always, Steve is there to catch him. His grin is lopsided, eyes warm, as he sings softly,

“But I know, uh-huh, that you're sad. And I know I'll make you happy with the one thing that you never had, baby I'm your man.”

And Eddie has half a second to think Wham!? Really? before they’re kissing. They’re kissing in the front seat of Steve’s car and Eddie has the sudden, embarrassing, wondrous urge to turn the radio on. So he does.

#steddie #stranger things #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve is a wham! fanboy in this #eddie is in the car with a beautiful boy and the beautiful boy can SING??? #A writes

[callmelyc]

Twitter loves hockey Keith soooo

Au where Lance is dating the captain of Keiths hockey team so he's around a lot

He'll bring snacks, be at any hangouts, help host cookouts and celebrations when they win games. He's the teams biggest fan with the biggest heart and most fiery passion.

Lance has been around for years now, he's a team staple. Even the press knows who Lance is, their fans, their families.

So it's only fair that the entire team loves having Lance around even if Keith was initially reluctant....

Here's the thing. Keith likes lance alot actually, probably too much. He isn't blind to Lances beauty or how kind the man is or how smart, funny, ever so slightly annoying he is.

But he also isn't blind to the annoyed sighs their captain gives when lance texts him sometimes. He isn't blind to how little free time Lance has because the captain always wants lance around as a little trophy bf.

So when lance excitedly announced to everyone he's going on a half year, once in a lifetime, research trip stationed at sea? The first person Keith looks at is their captain.

The man has his press face on. It's thoroughly painted with fake joy for Lance and the news he'd be out of his sight for a long period.

It irks Keith enough that he asks Lance genuine questions about his trip he was clearly so excited for. The other team members follow suit best they can since most don't fully understand what exactly it is Lance does.

And look, Keith knows Lance isn't stupid. He knows Lance can see his long-term boyfriends distaste at the idea. He still finds himself worrying about the man when he sees them leave together, a clearly purposeful space between them as they go.

On the day Lance leaves he finds out the couple had had an argument about the entire thing that day Lance told them about it. Against his wishes Keith feels his blood boil on Lances behalf. It's that moment Keith decides. When Lance gets back he could use a genuine friend on his side of the ice and Keith is gonna make sure that's him.

So when Lance returns a week early after many long months away Keith jumps at the opportunity to help him.

Lance,like the sweet saint he is, said he'd wanted to surprise his bf so he hadn't told the captain he was back yet. Though Keith is bitter at the thought of the two reuniting he tells Lance they have a big team party tonight to celebrate their path into finals. He also tells Lance he can help sneak him right up to the captain.

Lance is understandably excited. The entire way there he's telling Keith how thrilled the captain will be since he'd never wanted Lance to go to begin with.

Despite it all Keith can't help but smile at Lances excitement. They're close to the back halls by then so Keith tells Lance to stick close and follow his lead.

Which he does.

Which he also regrets.

There's no romantic welcome home or happy surprise waiting for Lance. Instead, Keith leads him right up to the captain that's actively cheating on him with a woman in public.

Keith sneaks Lance right back out after he takes photos for evidence in what Keith can only assume is for a future fight. He takes a horribly silent Lance right back to the couples shared apartment. He guards the door as Lance packs and goes through their security system only finding more evidence of & confirmation of the cheating.

Keith escorts Lance to a trusted friends place and listens as Lance breaks down into sobs behind the front door as he leaves.

Their team doesn't see Lance again for a long time after that.

Their press team fought to keep the cheating scandal under wraps, claimed the breakup was due to mutual decisions. But Keith knows, the team knows.

They no longer trust their captain.

And as things continue through a rough patch of plays it turns out the cheating wasn't the only thing the man had lied about. Gambling, things that could be considered sabotage, outright lying to all their faces. Word was kept under lock and key least they be disqualified and have all their reputations destroyed. They had one final game to play.

So they do.

Winning doesn't feel the same without Lance watching the ice they skate on. It doesn't feel the same without his loud cheers and insistence on celebrating afterwards.

The only one happy with it is their captain who sits gleefully at the bar with his newest girl.

The rest of the team doesn't know how to feel. It doesn't feel like a win at all.

~•~

The next time Keith sees Lance is during his standard practice between seasons. He's alone on the ice today and is surprised to see those blue eyes looking at him through the glass.

Keith comes to a stop right Infront of him.

"Can I talk to you?" Lance blurts before Keith can even say a word.

Lance doesn't know this yet, but Keith could never deny him anything "yeah sure, I was done anyways"

He finds Lance waiting patiently in the locker room once he's done putting everything away.

"What's up?" He asks, watching lance look at him in question "You haven't been around. So I guess you have a good reason to be here now."

"I was looking for you actually."

"Me?"

"Yeah, I never got to thank you with all that happened....it-" Lance pauses looking down at his hands "it meant a lot to have a friend like you in the moment. I'm sorry for cutting contact."

Keith sits next to him bumping his shoulder playfully "you don't have to apologize for that, I get it. We all do."

"All....?"

"Yeah. The rest of the team, we all miss you but we get it."

Lance looks at Keith like he's surprised to hear such a thing "really?"

"of course? Lance- you do realize how often we hung out right? We all consider you a close friend and we were all furious with the captain for what he did to you."

"I-" Lance finally smiles, small but none the less genuine "and here I thought I'd be unwelcome."

Keith stands, holding out his hand to pull him up "your never unwelcomed Lance, not here, not around me. Why don't we grab some lunch and you can tell me about that trip you went on."

He pretends he doesn't see the tears filling Lances eyes as the man takes his hand and instead Keith focused on the joy radiating off him in waves

For the first time in almost a year Keith finally feels like he's feeling the sun again.

~•~

Keith sits through days and multiple lunch and dinner tales of Lances incredible research trip. It's thrilling to watch the man's eyes glitter in genuine happiness as he does so.

Keith realizes he's the first to genuinely ask after these details since everyone else simply wanted him distracted from the cheating fiasco. So Keith soaks up every detail, every stray insignificant video and piece of data lance is willing to give.

He's so greedy with it Lance laughs, thrilled someone was willing to finally listen. He actually sends Keith the initial drafts for the research (the non nda ones) along with the short writings that followed.

Keith is blown away by how hard Lance had worked. He's so incredibly proud of him, so thoroughly impressed by his intelligence and made Lance promise he'd send the published pieces once they're publicly available.

In return Lance starts attending Keith's hockey practices.

It starts with any that the ex isn't there and eventually spirals to any at all as the season grows nearer.

Lance diligently sits in the stands watching and critiquing the plays just how he used to if with a little more care.

The guys are thrilled to see Lance around again even if he's still reluctant to hang in the locker rooms and after.

Their captain ignores him in full and Lance does the same in return.

Once the games pick back up Lance slowly becomes Keith's personal cheerleader from the stands. It never fails to send a sharp spike of adrenaline through Keiths spine when he hears lance scream his name in support.

He roots for the entire team, minus one man, of course. But the team notes with amusement how Keith seems to be his favorite now.

And, well....Keith can't help but smile at that.

Lance is seen around almost all the time again with his focus mostly on Keith and Keith is smug the more it infuriates their captain as time passes.

He's enraged his ex is around again, he's enraged Lance had taken interest in someone else, he's enraged that that someone isn't him.

What the man doesn't know is Lance and Keith see way more of eachother that anyone knows.

Their captain doesn't know how Lance sometimes spends the night as his place and vice versa. How Lance text him everyday now and how Keith doesn't find it one bit annoying like he had.

He doesn't know how hard they'd fallen for eachother.

And when Keith wins their final game of the season he publicly dedicated it to Lance in their interviews afterwards.

Everyone but their captain follows in his steps saying that Lances support has been monumental to their moral as a team.

And Keith knows he's truly won when Lance pushes through the crowd and gives him a big kiss the moment he reaches him.

Lance smiles into that kiss with all the joy a ray of sunshine can provide and Keith makes sure to smile back just as big.

They go on their very first date the next day.

#voltron #lance vld #vld #vld lance #lance mcclain #keith kogane #klance #keith x lance #keith voltron

[skzwife-02]

☁️Cuddles and Kisses☁️

[Lee Minho x Fem!Reader]

summary: reader is on her period, so Minho does the only sensible thing: give her kisses and cuddles (and orders her favorite food but that’s a surprise)

genre: fluff

warning: weird writing, idk i wrote this at 1am. tooth-aching sweet Minho, y/n speaking in another language(?), mentions of cursing god(s) lmao

note: okay so I know he doesn’t understand tagalog, but that diff breed filo skz stan in me kicks in and I have to make you speak tagalog😌💚 (it’s not really a warning but just an additional tag idk why it’s in warning lmao)

Masterlist

“Babe? Can you get me a soda from the fridge, please.” Minho’s shouts are muffled by the thick wooden door of his office but Y/n understood it nonetheless.

She takes small steps, her abdomen aching. She opens the refrigerator door, softly humming a song that pops in her mind. She vaguely remembers a gas station, two annoyed younger siblings in the car, and a steaming engine.

She chuckles, her warm hands touch the cold soda and she shivers. She takes a mental note not to leave her blanket anywhere on days when 40 millimeters of blood is gushing out of her vagina because of her uterus shedding some stupid lining that was prepared for a dumb fetus.

Y/n grumbles when she nears his door, wiping her numbing hand on her shirt then reaching for the door handle when it bursts open and she crashes with an excited Minho.

“Baby- oof!” He squeals, left hand finding her waist while the other grabs the falling soda can that’s about to crash to the floor.

She thanks the gods who gave Minho good reflexes, but curses the one who made him have a habit of not paying attention when opening doors.

“Oh dear, are you okay, hun?” He stabilizes her, his right hand tucking a stray hair that fell to her face. He cups her cheek and she melts to her boyfriend’s touch, leaning in.

He’s soft and passionate with the kiss, despite her neediness. Y/n lets out a whimper, the feeling of a sword stabbing and jabbing right on her abdomen and through her lower back engulfs her senses.

These cramps are messing her up, and yet again she takes a mental note not to miss her monthly chamomile tea before the ‘red’ curse enters (more like violently exits) her body.

“Hah, just peachy.” She huffs out before kissing him again, now biting gently at his lower lip.

“Nngh.” A soft noise slips out of his lips before he can stop it and Y/n stops kissing him, instead staring at him with disbelief etched on her face.

She stifles a laugh, preventing a gush that threatens to stain her pants. “Min?”

He smiles, laughing. This is her first time hearing him being vocal from a kiss, after all that’s always been her job. “Oh come on. You were biting me!” He defends and the look he has is enough to send her to the ground cackling.

“You’re too cute.” She manages to choke out as he pulls her up to carry her, settling her down on the couch. “Mmh, are you spending time with me instead of doing work because of my period situation?”

He nods, rushing to his office, she hears him shuffling around. Probably looking for his phone she thinks, turning her attention to the tv and realizing she doesn’t know where the remote is. “Min.” She calls for him, not wanting to move from her spot on the couch. “Lee Minho, where did you put the tv remote?” She finally shouts, head lifting to go look at what he’s doing in the other room.

He suddenly pops up behind the couch giving her a mini heart attack.

“Oh yeah.” He chuckles apologetically, “I left it in my room, here.” Minho holds her hand in his, giving her the remote.

Y/n smiles, patting the space next to her. Her boyfriend mirrors her, his lips tugging upwards. He lets his bunny slippers fall off his feet as he snuggles beside her, his back on the couch, his chest pressed against her own.

“Good?” He asks, running a hand through her ruffled hair.

“Mmh, as long as you’re here.”

10 minutes later she sees the doorknob of her front door turn, panic digs its claws on her throat and lungs, until she sees Hyunjin by the door. “Uh… Minho hyung, here are the things you asked for.”

[honestly switch to second person pov, im struggling af]

He sheepishly grins, demeanor shy from intruding your cuddle time. “I hope you feel better, Y/n noona.”

After Minho thanks him, Hyunjin bows a few more times before exiting your apartment and locking it with his, seemingly, own set of keys.

“Did you give Hyunjin your keys? Is that why you’re always locked out of your own home?” You tease and he playfully pouts.

“Oh, come on. You know you love helping a damsel in distress.” He jokes, cupping your face and leaving butterfly kisses all over.

You shy away, shifting your attention to the plastic of food Hyunjin brought. “Let’s eat,” you say, eager to taste Hyunjin’s cooking after not having his dishes for a long time.

Your boyfriend nods, standing up to get the plastic, two plates, two pairs of silverware and mugs. “Want the imported tea or the, uh,” he pauses, reading the small writing on the tea bag but not finding the name of the actual tea.

“Chamomile babe, thank you.” You answer, pulling the blanket by your feet over you. “Lamig naman, kakaiyak.” You sigh, complaining about the cold and half expecting him to turn the temperature a bit higher.

“What’s that, baby girl?” He hums from the kitchen, “You know I don’t understand the language, sorry.” He apologizes genuinely, feeling a bit guilty you’re learning korean but he isn’t making an effort to learn your language.

“It’s alright, Min. I’m sorry I didn’t notice, I said I’m cold.” You reply in a nonchalant tone, you don’t care at all, it’s not like he’ll be going to the country, and besides you only learned korean because you were going to the country.

When he finishes fixing you a cup of tea, he brings it to the table in the living room. Setting up everything else for your comfort, and not letting you do anything.

“Alright let’s watch that movie you keep talking about!” He starts excitedly, caressing your cheek before turning to the food and tv.

You relax the rest of the day, receiving absolute princess treatment from Minho. At the end of the day you’ve been pampered with kisses and lulled to sleep with cuddles.

Minho truly is a treasure.

Find all my works under #skzwife-02

#lee minho #leeknow #period #sweet minho #filipina reader #minho loving reader so much he abandons work for her #fluff #skz #fanfic #im on my period will someone please do this for me #straykids #stray kids in your backyard sacrificing a rabbit (leeknow) to make your period go away #cramps #comfort #soft lee minho #skz minho #skzwife-02

[biillys]

wayne knowing about eddie and billy and just accepting that billy's gonna more or less move into the trailer, into eddies room. not even bothering trying to fight it cos eddie's an adult, and billy's a few weeks shy of being one. becos they're both gonna be leaving soon, and he's honestly gonna fucking miss them. becos he doesn't know neil hargrove personally, but he doesn't trust that man one bit. becos he actually likes billy. likes the way he treats his nephew, like he matters, and that's all he's ever wanted for eddie.

hopper knowing about billy and eddie and being tired at most, amused at best. they're not sneaky, they're not subtle, they're typical stupid in-love teenagers. but small towns are dangerous, and these kids have been through enough, so hopper makes sure to make his presence known before knocking on the car window to tell them to take it somewhere more private, makes sure to be the one to attend and deal with the bar fight that broke out at the hideout. let's them off with barely a slap on the wrist and no permanent records whenever he has to drag them to the station, to help keep up appearances.

benny knowing about the hargrove boy and the munson boy, and after the 6th time he watches them play fucking footsie under the table, watches them let their hands wander over the table - so fucking close - only to snatch them away at last second, he's had enough. walks over and brings their regular order, even though they've already eaten, adds an extra piece of cake to the mix, and says 'happy 6 months. it's on the house.' becos they're not exactly quiet, then walks away. leaves them spluttering and coughing, clearing their throats, denials at the ready, but then he hears forks scraping across plates, and nervous laughter, and when he looks over next, they're hands aren't quite touching, but they're more relaxed than he's ever seen them, and they're the only one's in the dinner like they always are at this time of night, and he thinks if one of the only things he can give the people of this town is a safe space to be themselves, then that's something he can live with.

max knowing about her brother and dustin's new bff, not becos they've told her, but becos it's the only thing that makes sense. billy not flying off the handle as easily these days, eddie not being able to sneak out billy's window anywhere near as quietly as lucas can sneak out hers, the fucking mixtape that permanently lives in billy's car these days. honestly it's insane that the entire state of indiana doesn't know. but max knows for as loud and obnoxious and fucking annoying as billy is, that this is something personal, private, and that if anyone - if neil - found out, god knows what the consequences would be. so she plays oblivious and obtuse, even though the second they're alone, she's instantly bullying him for being dumb and in love, even if he does give it right back, rolling his eyes at how eddie's gleefully bragged about running into lucas in the bushes at the side of the hargrove-mayfield residence multiple times, offering him a ride home every time, says they're gonna start their own side club to hellfire, some stupid dumb long title that's something like it's 4am i'm your daddy's worst nightmare i'm in your bushes i'm climbing your windows i'm in your house i'm fucking your son club but then billy's giving her a considering look from the drivers seat of his car and saying 'or daughter, i guess.' and max is sinking down in her seat and smacking billy on the arm and 'shut the fuck up, billy.'

#does the upside down exist here? is it modern au? we just don't know! #idk what this is im watching shrek so like. obviously this is where my heads at #m #nqff #/ eddie munson #mungrove #ignores all the bits and pieces i have in my drafts and writes whatever the fuck this is 😇

[thewayofthemandalorian]

dreams dashed and divided - chapter two

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series rating: M

Chapter rating: M

Word count: 4,281

Notes: Chapter two! I’ve had a lot of questions about what Din did and I promise that things will be made more clear as the series progresses. Not is all as it seems, that’s all I’ll say. The flashbacks begin in this chapter also, so their introduction and beginning of their relationship is seen. Thank you to @ezrasbirdie​​​​​ for the beta.

This fic is cross-posted to AO3 under the same name and my taglist can be found linked in my bio as well as my masterlist which is linked below.

Comments/reblogs appreciated.

Chapter warnings: Swearing, unwanted attention/harassment, friends with benefits relationship, kissing, reference to sex, nightmares, use of weapons (no one is injured) angst, loneliness/isolation, age gap: older man/younger woman (in flashbacks reader is 20 to Din’s 27, and in current day is 29 to his 36).

previous chapter || next chapter || masterlist (main) || masterlist (din djarin)

Nine years ago, 0ABY

You wake up slowly. It’s cold. But it’s always cold on Kijimi. You’ve lived here for twenty years, your whole life, why should today be any different? Every day is the same, sometimes with slight variation: wake up, shower, eat, work at the cantina for Zarah’s mother.

You should be grateful for employment, for your friend’s mother looking out for you since your father disappeared ten years ago, arrested by the Empire. And you are, truly you are, but sometimes you can’t help but think that she doesn’t always have your best interests at heart. 

It’s a normal spring day, like every other day on Kijimi, people coming and going as they please. Zarah’s already gone from the bedroom that the two of you share in the flat above the cantina. Probably seeing Arden before she has to work the afternoon shift. You think that maybe your friend should be more careful with her beau. You don’t like him. Don’t like the way he seems almost disinterested in your friend. 

As you make your way down the stairs from the most consistent home you’ve had in years, a home that doesn’t feel like a home, you see that the cantina is already open. 

It isn’t a speakeasy yet. Just a place for people to gather and drink. There are some under the table tradings, but Zella Bliss doesn’t officially sanction it. It won’t be sanctioned for a few years yet. 

It’s a busy day. It always is, people coming and going from this planet. Even with the Imperial guards and stormtroopers breathing down your necks at all hours of the day. It’s a way to escape all of that. 

Word had spread the far reaches of the galaxy like wildfire about the destruction of Lord Vader’s space station the Death Star not too long ago. Whispers of a rebellion led by Bail Organa’s daughter Leia became more and more tangible. If the Death Star had been destroyed, that gives you a small reason to hope. Hope is something dangerous and fragile in your care. It’s been that way since your father was arrested by the Empire ten years ago for promoting anti-Imperial propaganda and never returned. You’re not stupid, you know he’s not coming back. You don’t need Zella and Zarah to remind you the way that they do when you get that wistful look in your eyes every now and again. It’s just the way you look sometimes when you think no one is noticing. There’s nothing wrong with hoping, though. Nothing wrong with staying optimistic.

“Hey, what can we do to get some service around here!” snaps a female Twi’lek from a table in your station, pulling you from your reverie. Almost instantly annoyance stabs at you. You don’t know why, people typically don’t annoy you. At least not instantaneously. 

Plastering your best serving-girl smile to your face, you walk to the table that’s called your attention. “Hi, welcome to Dark Star cantina. Can I get you something to start? Some drinks?” 

It’s an odd group. Two purple Twi’leks who look like they’re siblings, one male, one female. A heavy-set man with long, greying hair and beard. Lastly, there’s a Mandalorian. You feel four sets of eyes on you, even the Mandalorian’s, whose gaze practically burns a whole in you through his expressionless helmet, like he’s trying to suss you out, gauge who you are with a single look. It makes you squirm in your serving-girl outfit and you clear your throat. 

“You got any Bantha blasters?” asks the female Twi’lek, assessing you herself. You nod. “Yeah, fine, I’ll take a double of that.” 

Her brother speaks next. “I’ll have a Flameout.” Your eyes widen and the man with the long hair and beard whistles low. “You do have those, right?” 

“It’s Kijimi. Of course we do,” you reply. “And for you, sir?” you address the man. 

“I’ll have a spotchka, honey. Leave the bottle.” Something uncomfortable shifts in you when he calls you honey. You don’t like it. Don’t trust his seemingly kind eyes. 

Lastly the armoured man. “For you?” 

The table laughs, confusing you. “Nothing for Mando, sweetheart,” says the man who ordered spotchka. 

“Lest he break his special, precious code,” the female Twi’lek says with a sickly giggle. “This is the way,” she mocks in a low voice. 

You look at the Mandalorian and he gives a faint nod as if to confirm what the others are saying. He hasn’t said a single thing during the entire exchange. “Okay then. I’ll be right back with those drinks.” 

When you return, the Mandalorian’s gaze is averted, he’s looking down at the table. The female Twi’lek has her arm draped on his shoulder pauldron. He looks uncomfortable and keeps shoving it off him. You don’t know what – if anything – is going on there, but it’s not your place to comment. “We’re in town for a little while on business and we’re looking for a place to stay,” says the older man. “Any inns around here?” 

“There’s only one. The Busted Droid inn. If you go now there should be some rooms still open.” Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the Mandalorian shift his chair away from the Twi’lek, giving himself some room. 

The man nods. “And, uh, will there be company?” he asks. 

You furrow your brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“It’s just… a man has needs and he gets lonely doing all these jobs.” He grabs your wrist. “Know what I mean?” 

Resisting every urge to be sick, you swallow. “It’s not that kind of place. And neither is this. Please let go of me.” But your voice is tentative, small.  

A voice you hadn’t heard before speaks up. “Ran. That’s enough.” It takes a minute for you to realize it’s the Mandalorian. When Ran doesn’t do anything, the Mandalorian repeats himself. “Ran,” his voice brooks no argument. 

Ran finally lets go with a cheeky grin. “Sorry, sweetheart. Just havin’ some fun.” The table, save for the Mandalorian, laughs. You hope their job, whatever it is, is quick. 

After about two hours the group finally leaves, leaving a morsel of credits for your tip. You look at them on the table and sense someone’s gaze on you. You look up and see the Mandalorian and you know it was him that left the tip. You nod gratefully. 

The end of the day arrives with little fanfare. There’s a knock on the door as you and Zarah are tidying up. “Probably Sylar,” says Zarah. “I can finish up here if you wanna go see who it is.” 

You unlock the door and open it a crack. It’s the Mandalorian from earlier. “We’re closed for the night,” you say by greeting, not wanting any more discomfort. 

“I know,” he says. “I just – I was on my way back to the Crest for the night and I… wanted to apologize for how my…” he struggles to find the right word. This doesn’t seem to come easy to him.“...associates behaved today. It was inappropriate and callow.”

You’re stunned. No one’s ever apologized for it. “It’s okay,” you say. “I’m used to it.” 

The Mandalorian – Mando? – shakes his head. “It’s not okay, that’s why I’m here. You shouldn’t have to be used to it.” 

He’s right, but you don’t really have a choice in the matter. “Why don’t you take off the helmet?” you ask. 

“This is the way,” he says simply. “Good night.”

Feeling ever so slightly emboldened, you call after him. “Hey, do you have a name? You know mine. Doesn’t feel fair if you’re gonna be on my planet for a while.” 

The Mandalorian pauses. “Most people call me Mando.” 

- - - - 

Present day, 9ABY

The blaster bolt bounces off Mando’s new chest plate with a ding. He doesn’t even so much as grunt. The most he does is flinch ever so slightly. It does nothing, but it feels satisfying nevertheless, finally doing what you promised to do when your grief towards him turned to rage about seven years ago. 

“I probably deserve that,” he remarks, “plus a lot more.” 

“Fuck you. Showing up like this after nine years. What the fuck are you doing here?” you spit, not holstering your weapon. 

Mando holds out his hands in a surrendering motion, showing that he means no harm. You eye him warily and lower your blaster slightly. “I need your help. I… it’s too much to explain right here. Is there somewhere we can go?” he asks. 

You scoff. “Like I’m going anywhere with you. After what happened last time? After what you promised me and failed to see through? You’re too late by about nine years.” 

You were never expecting to see him again. After all these years your emotions are still the same. Grieved, angry, remorseful. Still, the pull between you that existed all those years ago still exists. 

“I’m sorry.” You’ve been waiting for years to hear those words. But they feel pyrrhic, hollow. It’s not enough. It sounds more like an acknowledgment of what happened than an actual apology. “Will you please hear me out?” 

Your countenance changes slightly. He does sound remorseful. But he’s only here to use you for something, you’re sure of it. What else would he be here for? Again, the pull that exists between you and Mando nags you. You know what Zarah would say. And Zarah’s been the only one who’s had your back this entire time, even if you don’t necessarily agree entirely with her opinion of Mando. That doesn’t mean you’re not angry at him though, not hurt by what he did. Who knows, maybe she’s right.

It’s all a mess of confusion and conflicting emotions and ideas that you can’t bear to deal with right now. “Get out. Get out!” you shout, needing to be alone for one second. 

Mando doesn’t need telling twice apparently. He takes one more glance at you and walks out the door without so much as another word. You thought it would be harder getting him to leave. But the thing about Mando is it’s sometimes tricky to get rid of him. 

You try to get your breathing back under control. Belatedly, you realize that you’re almost hyperventilating. “Okay, you’re okay. You’re okay,” you tell yourself over and over again. 

Outside Din is pacing back and forth in the shadows just out of view. He watches as you try to calm yourself down. Of all the people he expected to be the queenpin of Kijimi, you were the last person he considered. It just didn’t seem to fit with the person he knew nine years ago. You’d been so young, so sweet, so kind. Sure, you’d had to stand up for yourself and do things that you wouldn’t do otherwise. But you were such a gentle soul with hope that couldn’t be dashed. It was what first drew you to him. That and the look in your eyes. The same look he saw in his own eyes every time he looked in the mirror. The look that had only amplified in your eyes over the past nine years. The you of nine years ago would have never told him to fuck off. Not that he doesn’t deserve it and more. The you of nine years ago is still in there, he can sense it. 

But watching you interact tonight with your customers, the way you had shot him without hesitation. Your closed-off nature that had never existed around him before. That’s his doing, he’s sure of it. Just as you almost breaking down in the cantina right now is his doing. 

Din doesn’t know what to do. He hadn’t planned for this. He wants to go in and apologize. Wants to make things right as he has wanted to for going on ten years. But he can’t. Not right now. 

There’s movement from behind him and he turns. A man about your age, maybe a bit older, is making his way to the cantina. “Hey,” Din calls out, getting the man’s attention. “She’s closed for the night.” 

In the darkness, Din can see the cocky grin on the man’s face. “Oh. Yeah. I’m not going for drinks or spice, mate. I’m going for something that’s off the menu if you know what I mean.” 

Din’s heart sinks. Of course, not only do you want nothing to do with him, but you have someone. Someone new. He doesn’t say anything. Just walks away in the direction of the Razor Crest. “Fucking guy,” the man mutters to himself before entering the cantina. 

You’re in Sylar’s arms almost immediately when he comes in. Kissing his face and greeting him as warmly as possible. “Hey, Sy,” you murmur, needing to get your mind off of Mando. “I missed you last night.” 

Sylar kisses you. “I missed you, too. You okay?” he asks. He doesn’t notice your slightly stricken expression that you’re trying to erase. Doesn’t notice how tense you are from your meeting with Mando just now. “You’re never gonna believe this,” he says. “I just saw a Mandalorian. How cool is that?” 

You offer what can at best be described as a bland smile. “Wow. That is cool.” 

“Didn’t you know a Mandalorian once?”

You take his hand in yours. “I am entirely sick of talking about Mandalorians for a lifetime. Let’s go upstairs.” Your friend doesn’t need telling twice.

Usually Sylar is good at what he does, getting you out of your head and getting you to calm down. But tonight, when he warms your bed and body with his, the only person you can think of is Mando. You look up at the ceiling and think of the armoured man you once shared this very bed with.

It comes as no surprise that you have the dream again that night. 

- - - - 

Din can’t leave. He can’t leave without arguing his case for why he’s there. And he has to attempt to make things right with you. It’s a restless night on the Razor Crest, a far cry from the last restless night he had on the Razor Crest when he was here. He still can’t believe you’re the queenpin of Kijimi. It just doesn’t seem congruent to him. You had wanted to get away from Kijimi, the reminders of everything that had happened here. The kid is only peripherally aware of what Din’s going through. He watches as Din paces back and forth. The display was staggering to see. You, held within yourself, flirting and laughing with customers who didn’t see what was in your eyes. What was in your soul. None of those people who frequented your cantina know you the way that he once had. He supposes that people change. However, he saw a flicker in your eyes last night when he had attempted to appeal to you. A flicker of your old self hidden behind the facade. He never knew you could be so closed off and vivacious at the same time. 

He needs to talk to you. Try to get some closure. He wants to make good on the promise he made to you. To take you away from here. But you don’t seem to want to anymore. 

The next morning, you wake up alone. Sylar always has to leave before dawn. He works odd hours. All the same, it’s nice to have a lover who shows his face to you. Even if you don’t… Nope. You’re not going down that road. It isn’t fair to Sylar. Logically you know you should end things. But it’s a good thing you’ve got. No strings, not really. And your friendship with him doesn’t really have to change. 

The bed is still warm where he lay, so he hasn’t been gone for long. You stretch out on your mattress before you have to get up for another day. 

Marta is already there when you come downstairs. “How are you, my love?” you ask her. She’s young, maybe seventeen or eighteen. She has the same look in her eyes that you sometimes have. The same look that most women on Kijimi seem to have.

“I’m fine. Did you hear that there’s a Mandalorian in town?” 

Closing your eyes, you rub your temples, already feeling the headache coming on. He can’t go quietly. It isn’t in his nature despite being a man of shadows, a man of quiet seriousness. “Is there?” you ask. 

Marta nods. “Yeah, his ship’s landed in the starport just down the road. Zacharias saw him this morning. Word has it that he has a kid with him.”

You frown, taken off-guard. “A kid?” you echo.

“Yeah. That’s what the rumour is.” It sounds like he’s digging in. Setting roots. And stupidly you thought today was going to be an easy day. 

Your mind’s made up before you can fully think things through. “Marta? Can you and Adria and Yana open today? I have something that I forgot about. Zarah should be in soon if I’m not back by then.” 

Marta looks quizzical. “Um… sure? Is everything okay, boss?” she asks. 

You have an affection for this young girl you took under your wing. She reminds you of yourself. “Yeah, I’m fine, honey. I just need to look in on something.” 

She nods and you quickly leave in the direction of the starport. You have a bone to pick with the metal man. Some scores that need settling. 

- - - - 

Your feet take you most of the way to the starport on autopilot. The old pre-imperial gunship is there and you would recognize it anywhere. The Mandalorian is doing some repairs with Sylar. The two seem tense. Or rather, Mando seems tense. Sylar seems oblivious.

“Hey, Sylar,” you greet. “I missed you this morning,” you say. It’s a lie. You don’t really miss his presence when he leaves. But Mando doesn’t need to know that. Are you trying to make him jealous? That can’t be the reason you said that… Can it? 

Sylar grins. “Sorry, love. I had to get started early. Can you believe it? An actual pre-Empire gunship!” He gestures to the Razor Crest. You never told him what happened with Mando. He knows someone hurt you. But that’s all you’ll tell him. He doesn’t need to know. And you don’t need or want to tell him. He’ll only feel sorry for you, and that’s the last thing you want. Too many people do already, including the man standing with Sylar. 

“I know,” you say instead. “Pretty incredible, right? Um… listen, Sylar. I need to talk shop with him for a minute or two. Why don’t you go and get some caf or something while Mando and I talk business?” It’s manipulative and you hate how easily it works. 

Sylar is amenable. “Sure. Yeah, I could go for some. Maker knows I didn’t get enough sleep last night. Women, right?” he says to Mando in a teasing, jokey way.. 

Your laugh is stiff, uncomfortable. He goes to kiss you and you move your face so his lips land on your cheek. “I’ll see you tonight?” he asks. 

“You know where to find me,” you reply. 

Mando’s been watching the entire scene unfold in front of him. Assessing. When Sylar is out of earshot, he says, “You don’t love him, do you? Are you happy here?” he asks, knowing he has no right asking it.

That wasn’t what Din wanted his first question to be. He couldn’t help himself, though. It just slipped out. 

You don’t love Sylar. But Mando doesn’t need to know that. “That’s none of your concern,” you reply airily. “It’s nice having a man who isn’t afraid to show his face to his lover… Mando.” It is a low dig and you know it. Doesn’t make it any less true though. In the entire span of your relationship, you never learned what he looks like, the shape of his face, any imperfections, or even his name. After a while it started getting to you. “And you already know the answer to the second question. It’s the same as it was when you first asked it nine years ago.”

Mando doesn’t say anything. Never reveals anything. Behind the helmet he frowns. “You’re different,” he says after a long minute. “Less… open. You were always so sweet and gentle and kind.” 

You scoff, not knowing what he means. “Yeah, well. I learned from the best.” Meaning Mando. This is ridiculous. This isn’t why you came here. “What are you doing here?” you ask. 

“If I recall correctly, you’re the one who came to the starport, cyar’ika.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you snarl. “You lost the right to call me that a long time ago. And that’s not what I meant. What are you doing on Kijimi? Why did you come back? And don’t say you came to make things right. If you wanted to do that you could have done that nine years ago.” 

Mando sighs. “I didn’t know you were… I didn’t expect… You being the person I was looking for to help me came as being a bit of a surprise.” 

You swallow, the last of your hope that he had come to make things right and take you away dashed in a second. “Well, things change, people change. Or people aren’t who they say they are. They can say one thing and do another.” You look pointedly at him. 

He sighs again. “Anyway, that doesn’t matter. I have a bit of a quandary. I have a child in my care – a foundling. And he is a person of interest to dangerous people, people who hired me to return him to them. I don’t know all the details.”

The rumours are true, then, about him being here with a child. You’ve heard rumblings of a bounty of high importance for a while. You wonder if it’s the same child. “Let me guess, you didn’t take him back?” you ask. 

Mando shakes his head. “I did. That’s how I got my beskar. That was the reward.” 

This revelation stuns you. “You did? Then what—? How—?” 

“It didn’t feel right. I went back for him and we’ve been on the run ever since.” 

“And how do the others play into this?” you ask. 

Mando tilts his helmet. “The others?” he repeats. 

“Yeah. Ran, Qin, Xi’an,” you mimic Xi’an’s sickly giggle that always set your teeth on edge. “How is she these days?” 

He shakes his head. “They’re all on a New Republic prison transport ship. I made sure of it.” 

You weren’t expecting this. “Oh. Well, what does this have to do with me then?” 

“Recently, Karga reached out to me with a proposition. Our last meeting went… poorly.” Mando explains everything that he knows. Just as he’s finishing his story, a small green child with floppy ears waddles down the ramp. He’s no older than a toddler. That’s the bounty you’ve heard so much about. 

“I still don’t know what this has to do with me,” you argue, the wheels turning in your head. 

The child looks up at the Mandalorian. “Did you have a good sleep, ad’ika?” he asks the child, a tenderness in his voice that you only heard on one or two occasions, before turning his attention back to you. “I need protection. I asked my friend who is a former shock trooper, but she can’t.” 

“So you thought you’d come to me?” you ask. 

“Like I said, I didn’t know it was you until last night. If you have some enforcers or —” 

“The answer is no. I’m not going anywhere with you.” 

Mando’s head whips around, noticing something or someone in the starport that you hadn’t. “Kriff, we have to go.” 

You balk. “What? Did you not hear what I just said?” With his free hand, Mando grabs your wrist, not tightly but enough so that you know it’s urgent. “Let go of me! Are you crazy?” 

Mando gestures with his helmet to a man who’s skulking in the corner. “That’s one of the client’s men. One of the ex-Imperial guards. The people I’ve been trying to evade for months.” 

“So? I might make it easy for everyone. Bring this little one right to him. Cash in on that bounty. Create a lot less problems.” You don’t mean it at all. It’s a last ditch effort. At what, you’re not entirely sure.

Mando sees right through your bluff. “You’re not going to do that. I know you better than that. You’re mad at me, that’s fine. That’s justified. But don’t punish the kid for it. He’s innocent.” He’s right, you know he is. “Come on. If you stay you’ll just have a target on your back. And I know your cantina won’t survive. Or you. I know what they’re capable of.” 

You know you don’t have a lot of options. And you know that he’s right when he says that the remnants of the Empire will paint a target on your back if you stay after this. You sigh. “Okay. Okay, fine. But the second that this is over, you bring me back here. And you never seek me out again.” 

Mando doesn’t want that but he doesn’t have an option. “Fine. We have to go.” 

And that’s how you find yourself on the old gunship you never thought you would set foot on. After a second so Mando can get situated, you’re in the air. It’s the first and only time you’ll be off Kijimi. With the person who originally promised it and then broke that promise into a million pieces along with your heart.

---- taglist in reblog

#pedro pascal #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian #my fic #my writing #dreams dashed and divided

[spicywhumper]

febuwhump 2024: day 22. "you weren't meant to be here" + @femslash-february bingo 2024 (dark edition): betrayal

series: untiles / rating: teen and up audiences

trigger/content warning: minor character death, implied past child abuse.

Suffice to say, I do not like being hundreds of kilometers away from solid ground. As safe as the station is, arguably safer than the ground, it’ll never be somewhere I want to be. But if Segal told to be here, I’ll be here, loosing my job is even more unpleasant than spending time on floating in a metal box in space.

At least, Fessender is here (she gets way too annoying if I date call her by her first name in any minimally professional setting). Which means that she’ll distract me by making me feel stupid with her endless rambling about whatever side project she’s working on.

“Davidson!” I hoped he wouldn’t be on her lab, Diana – I refuse to mentally refer to her as “Fessender” all the time – blinks at me like she didn’t expect me to be here. “Finally, took you long enough.”

“Well, sir, I can’t take a cab here,” he rolls his eyes, aware that I did take the first ship after he ordered me to come up here. “Why am I needed here?”

“Remember agent Doyle?” I nod. “She’s giving a presentation,” he points at Diana. “She’s going to need help with whatever they’re showing.”

“I mentioned a foot soldier,”  she’s frowning at him, she sounds so soft and gentle that it’s almost easy to not notice that she’s upset.

“Pretty sure Davidson is more than capable to do whatever you need.”

She nods: “I understand.”

“Good!” He beans, I’m not sure how I got myself a ray of sunshine as my boss. He nods at her, that’s when he’d grab your shoulder and give you a nice and friendly squeeze. She froze the one time he did it, so he never tried again. “I’ll be going now, she can explain whatever’s going on.”

Even with how he doesn’t step too closer to her personal space, Diana only relaxes when he’s out of the room. We don’t talk about it, we don’t need to talk about it, I’ve met her parents.

“So…”

“You weren’t meant to be here.”

“And I thought you liked me,” I fall on the chair I always use, she’s still frowning, Cute. “What Doyle and You are doing?”

“Weapon’s presentation.”

“What am I supposed to do then?”

“Not be there. It’s a weapon for footsoldiers.”

“That doesn’t make much sense, babe.”

“Don’t- you’re not supposed to use pet names here.”

“And?” She gestures between us. “You know you’re supposed to stay quiet about it.”

“I know, I know, sorry. But really, can’t I help?”

“I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” She sighs, defeated, and takes all my will power to not lean over the desk and kiss her all over her stupid cute face. “Go mingle around, I’ll check over the project with Doyle.”

“I know you, it’s already safe.”

“Yeah, I’d like to be double sure.”

That’s her way to all but kick me off her lab, she’s to nice to actually kick me out.

So I do go and mingle. As much as I might dislike staying up here, the regular agents are quite the pleasant people to be around. Half of them think Diana is the best person around, which makes them quite the approved people by me.

After a few hours of roaming the stupidly large space station, making small talk, one of the newer agents finds me and takes me to Diana’s lab.

Part of me really, really doesn’t like the way Doyle stands closer than every other person – except me. The rest of me isn’t pathetic and jealous and does like that she’s comfortable around someone else. Doyle’s sitting on the chair, reading something on the monitor in front of her, as Diana’s leaning over her shoulder and, I assume, commenting on what Doyle’s reading.

That’s her mentor, don’t be jealous. I clear my throat, Diana doesn’t jerk away like she probably would if there was something else going on in. Doyle looks up, acknowledges me and is back to what she has been reading.

“Everything alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Diana’s the normal amount of nervous she gets before any event where she has to interact with more than two people at once. She looks like she needs a hug – ok, she always looks like she needs a hug.

“What do you need me to do?”

“You’ll destroy a couple of dummies,” she nudges Doyle. “We’ll be late.” The agent nods and gets up. “Follow me.”

We do.

The room is packed with agents, from foot soldiers to high ranking agent, including Segal. He likes to sit among the other officials despite being the director. It’s an arena, it feels almost suffocating to be in the middle of it, dummies around me and Diana fussing over me and the weapon. It doesn’t look any different from regular shotguns, it’s incredibly heavier, like the other laser and light-based ones she designed before. That’s why they’re for guards that stay on one spot, snipers and such. More fitting me than foot soldiers.

The clock turns three in the afternoon, the arena’s light turn off.

What the fu- I hold the gun tighter, even if I’m not sure of its destruction power. The lights come back, dim and weak. Then there’s smoke. So. Much. Smoke. Thick, a sickening shade of green, smells foul, almost like rotting corpses. It seems to come from the ventilation system.

“Put the gun down,” the cold barrel of one presses against the back of my neck, Doyle’s voice is muffled. I obey on instinct.

People are coughing, it sounds wet and sick. Most of the smoke hover on the seats, the panicked agents are just shapes amidst the poisonous fog.

“What have you- what are you doing?” It’s hard to ask before I’m coughing. “Agent-”

“My job,” she grabs my shoulder to make me turn, the pain fills my chest and down my torso like liquid fire. She’s wearing a mask, I’ve seen Diana with one of those. Diana-

“What?”

“My job. The oh so called terrorists you’ve been fighting against,” her eyes are bright, I can almost see the twisted smirk on her. “The people that take in the agents harmed by your righteous agency. We’re weapons without a handler, you can say.”

There’s blood on my mouth: “I-” my knees hurt when they hit the metal floor.

“You weren’t meant to be here,” that’s not Doyle, I’m distracted by the pain just enough to not feel a second person approaching until the mask’ s pressed against my face. I grab the arm holding it in a desperate attempt to make it not go away. “I asked for a foot soldier.”

“Don’t whine, you did have an extra mask.”

Doyle’s the least important person on the room when Diana’s pressing the mask against my face, one on hers and her eyes shines in a shade of blue that looks haunting. Her other hand’s adjusting it on the back of my head.

“Diana…”

“I’m sorry,” all I can do is stare at her.

She looks apologetic, genuine, but also.. wrong.

“What have you done?”

“My job.”

#febuwhump 2024 #femslash feb bingo #whump #whump blog #whump community #whumpblr #lady whump

[dinogoose]

all i ever want (is just a little love)

Eddie has just been staring at Buck for the past five minutes. He got home from therapy, and was expecting to just take a nap or read or something to wind down, when he sees his giant best friend asleep on his tiny couch.

He hadn’t expected this because he knows Buck has just gotten off a long shift. They were texting about it earlier, but Buck also knows Eddie doesn’t like to be alone after therapy so he came here. That fact makes Eddie want to grab the ring in his drawer and propose to a sleepy Buck.

He just barely contains that urge, instead stepping into the living room to get a closer look at Buck.

This is creepy- Eddie is fully aware of that. Him just hovering over Buck’s dormant body. Watching the rise and fall of his chest. The way he curls in on himself. One leg was thrown off the couch, the other tucked onto it. Part of Eddie is contemplating waking him, just a gentle nudge, so at least he can go sleep in a bed so his bad leg won’t ache. But before Eddie even has the chance he hears,

“Hey creeper, you watching me sleep?” It's slightly mumbled into the couch cushion, but Eddie hears it and laughs.

“I’m not the weirdo who broke in.” Eddie retorts sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Not breaking in if I have a key.” Buck tells him, finally peeling his eyes open. He takes in Eddie, and smiles. Just a soft smile that gives Eddie butterflies (butterflies. like he’s a high schooler with a crush).

“How was therapy?” Buck asks, distracting him from the fluttering in his stomach.

“Good. Frank is annoying.” Buck laughs, and sits up on the couch so he and Eddie are face to face.

“Yeah, but you think most people are annoying.” Buck grins at him, and Eddie admires face. His eyes are a little droopy with sleep, and he has a line on his face from the couch. Eddie wants to kiss him.

“Because most people are annoying. You’re one of them.” Eddie grumbles, but he’s feeling too happy for it to take full effect.

“You love my annoying-ness.” The blonde tells him, poking his chest.

“Yes. Yes I do.” It gives away too much, Eddie knows that, but he also thinks Buck knows. From the teasing grin he’s now sporting, he definitely knows. Eddie rolls his eyes, stands up, and out-stretches his hand.

“I’m dead on my feet, let’s go to bed.” Buck just blinks at him, glancing from his eyes, to his hand.

“Huh?” He says, Eddie snorts.

“A bed is something people sleep on. Whenever you are tired, you go to a bed-“ Buck smacks him in the leg.

“Shut up smart-ass. Fine, I'll come to bed with you.” He takes Eddie’s hand, and Eddie hauls him up. He sways a slightly, body still waking up, so Eddie steadies him with a hand on his waist. Buck flushes bright red. It secretly makes Eddie thrilled.

They walk to Eddie’s room hand-in-hand.

Silently, they get ready for bed. Eddie knows Buck has already showered. Buck smells like the coconut body-wash he keeps at the station. Part of Eddie wants to literally sniff him. He won’t because that would make him come off as a freaky werewolf. But he wants to.

Eddie gets into the left side of the bed, and waits for Buck to join him. The taller man hovers, as if he isn’t welcome. Which is completely absurd so Eddie pats the pillow next to him. Buck smiles and climbs in.

“Come here often?” Is what Buck says after getting under the covers next to Eddie.

“Oh my god, go to sleep.” Eddie turns away from him, fake annoyed, and smiling. (Eddie loves all of Buck’s jokes even if they are awful and stupid) Buck pokes him in the back. Eddie hums in acknowledgement.

Buck slowly drags just one finger along Eddie’s spine, causing him to shiver. Then he draws shapes, a circle, a star, a heart. Eddie’s breath catches. Finally Buck very carefully spells something out.

I. L-o-v-e. Y-o-u.

Eddie completely stills, if he doesn’t move maybe he won’t break the beautiful hallucination he conjured. Buck however, does it again. Same words, same spacing. I love you. Eddie turns around to face him.

“What?” He asks, stunned. He had dreamed of this, of a world where Buck loved him back, easily, peacefully. But he never thought Buck actually could.

Buck who was the sun to Eddie’s moon. The ocean to his land. The one person Eddie trusted to protect his heart. Eddie’s partner at his work, and his life.

“I love you.” Buck tells him, shaking Eddie from his thoughts. There’s a shy smile tugging at Buck’s lips, and his hands are shaking a little. Eddie surges forward in the bed to kiss Buck.

Buck gasps into it, and Eddie swallows it. The kiss is soft, but still passionate. They know each other in-and-out, so even if they haven’t kissed before, it feels like they have. The way they already understand each other's movements. Moving in sync to create something wonderful. It’s beautiful. It’s perfect. It’s them.

Eddie pushes back, and Buck looks at him, concerned.

“Are you okay? Did I-“ Eddie cuts him off.

“I love you.” Eddie tells him, the words rushing from his mouth. Buck's face softens again, and he leans forward to kiss Eddie’s nose. Then his mouth, each of his cheeks, the mole underneath his eye, and finally his mouth.

“I love you too,” Another kiss. “I love you when you’re grumpy after therapy.” Kiss. “I love you when you burn our breakfast.” Kiss. “I love you when you have the most intense road rage.” Kiss. “I love you for you.”

Eddie has a million things he wants to say to Buck. Wants to pour his heart out, tell Buck every reason why he loves him. Every reason why Eddie isn’t good enough for him. Yet, he can’t seem to get the words out. So instead he just tucks Buck into him, holding the man he loves.

Buck’s breathing evens out, his soft puffs of air tickling Eddie’s neck where he rests. It’s soothing and is quickly putting Eddie to sleep. They will need to talk more when they both wake up, but for now, Eddie can just enjoy being with Buck.

He should probably send Frank a thank you basket.

(here it is! thank you for the support on the wip, really stroked my ego haha. this was also posted on ao3)

#buddie fic #911 show #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 fic #911 fanfic #fanfic #fic #i tried my best I truly did #sorry if this is dissapointing <3 #buck x eddie

[thegeminisage]

sigh ok star trek update time. wednesday we watched tng's "force of nature" and last night we watched ds9's "second sight" and tng's "inheritance."

force of nature (tng):

this one is so infamous i knew about it way before we watched it...as predicted, it made me mad

i've heard something about a lower decks episode retconning this? which just goes to show how little human beings want to like. work on a problem

like, the episode is about fossil fuels and climate change. we rely on fossil fuels but theyre damaging our environment to the point these people are willing to completely isolate themselves in space bc they have no other choice

and like, the point of the episode is that this lady has to essentially self-immolate to get any attention and everyone gets the runaround from the people in charge because no one wants to believe it will get that bad and no one wants to change...

...and then they just. didn't change. like nobody stopped using warp. nobody brought this up ever again. in fact, it got RETCONNED? so why write it at all in a series where you KNOW everything has to go back to the status quo...tng is even worse than merlin in this regard, why would they do this!!!

aside from that, i feel like they gave us a b plot or multiple b plots in the first half of the ep (training data's cat, geordi's rivalry with that other engineer) and then completely dropped and forgot about them?? the whole ting feels just so poorly thought out...

second sight (ds9):

MIXED FEELINGS. under one hand i've been absolutely DYING for more sisko content under the other girl what the fucj was that

the lady was sooo mysterious i was CERTAIN she was either evil or a ghost...what she actually was turned out to be closer to ghost ig but it was so out of the left field the ending didn't leave me feeling very satisfied. also, what a shit deal for fenna to be dying either way when all she wants to do is hang out and make out with sisko

sisko and jake scenes <3

i did like the bits with dax being like oh i get it you cant tell me about girls anymore because i AM one. does the time we fucked twins together mean nothing to you

the ending was really good also. i mean, i think the plot of this episode was kind of ???, but the guy playing sisko is a GREAT actor and his struggle over this ridiculous situation was so palpable you felt for him in spite of it.

the guy she was actually married to was SO ANNOYING but i thought him killing himself was stupid and i was also a little more annoyed everyone seemed so chill about letting him do it - like, there was quite literally no way they could have stopped him, but sisko seeing him off with a sad smile instead of getting angry wasn't really what i expected

THAT SAID, reigniting a star and going out with the words "let there be light!" is pretty fucking metal. like i don't even like him, but you HAVE to hand it to him. that was really REALLY good, especially considering it came from a character i would have happily murdered myself right up until the instant he said it

inheritance (tng):

mixed feelings...2!

first off, i can't help but feel mister terraformer who reignites stars from that ds9 ep would have been able to help here. he killed himself out of fucking vanity and now he's totally useless to people who need him. jesus.

secondly, what the FUCK

i love data episodes, but the last few data episodes have been rough ones. i like him being skeptical of his "mom" and them eventually getting to know one another better, and i DEFINITELY like the subplot of her secretly being a little racist towards androids

like, there's so much complexity in that. what if you were data and you were alone in the universe but you found out you had a mom but she fucking sucked? like, lore traumatized her so bad she wanted a metaphorical abortion and when her husband refused she wanted to leave that baby outside the fire station, if the fire station had a big crystalline entity trying to eat all the firefighters.

i think that would have been a FINE episode on its own. like, her learning about data's loneliness, his failed attempt at having children, his success as not only a starfleet officer but a person, in SPITE of her fears and his rough beginning, his difficulties in not knowing who he was and his accidental reactivation of lore born from that loneliness and separation from his parents which is HER FAULT...all of this is fine drama

why did they have to make her also secretly an android, is my problem. it's a STUPID plot twist, and one tos did to MUCH better effect. like, is that android chapel's long-dead fiance just because he thinks he is? does having a person's memories and personality make you them, or is the copy always going to be different no matter what? tos seemed to decide the answer was that you can't implant a human consciousness into an android and be left with no changes whatsoever. you can't ever truly cheat death - even spock didn't get out of it entirely.

and what REALLY grinds my gears is that now they know this woman is an android WITH A KILL TIMER SET IN HER BRAIN so she can "die of old age" instead of like, working on changing the timer and letting her be friends with data or even telling her and asking HER if she wants the knowledge of what she is wiped from her brain, they're like, well she would be happier being human! WHICH IS STILL RACIST AGAINST ANDROIDS. and data's like yeah damn i guess she would be it would be selfish of me not to let her keep believing she is one. guess we'll lie then. it's not like there's any danger of her finding out from a stranger someday or anything

absolutely nuts by the way that deanna voted lie and picard voted truth. normally picard is the one with the rancid takes but this time it really was deanna :/

there's also logistic concerns. why doesn't she glow like data in geordi's visor? how does she digest food? if she was that advanced why did dr soong not make more androids or at least go retrieve data? why did he let her divorce him without telling her what she really was? like, let's make an android but a WOMAN, which means she gets no agency whatsoever. nevermind her HUSBAND - like, if they fuck, i do feel like he has the right to know he's fucking an android? it sounds bad when i say it like that bc if she wanted to keep it a secret then its none of his business but it just feels so weird that he's married to a copy of a person and neither of them know it and he's only gonna find out after she dies and someone tries to do an autopsy on hr. like what the HELL

also lmao the aside about data aging. threw that in there just for fun did we

anyway, that was an episode with huge potential that missed the mark so fucking completely because they prioritized a dumb shitty plot twist over actual interpersonal shit and character development. SIGH.

TONIGHT: ds9's "sanctuary" and tng's "parallels."

#personal #star trek blogging #tng lb #ds9 lb

[mhynvxii]

Aomine x fem! reader scenario.

In which the reader dress inappropriately to his standards.

A/N : This is for you @erina-writes-headcanons the divine punishment will now fall upon you ! I’ll believe you’re smart enough to know from who is inspired the reader right ? I can’t deliver to you a version in which it’s more obvious if you can’t tell :).

Warning : Smut with a plot ? lolol, public space sex and you are caught in the act, brat !reader x brat tammer Aomine who is kinda sadistic and degrade you. Also Kise simps don’t get hurt but he has a girlfriend here and Kuroko and Momoi are implied to be together.

Seating on the couch as it has been now a good ten minutes Aomine was waiting for you to get down upstairs, already a bit annoyed as he felt like you were taking your sweet time to get dressed. It was just a stupid hangout with what were supposed to be both of y’all common friend to the attraction park so what was the point to get you a super fashionable outfit ? Especially if today hangout was not appropriate for complex and tight clothing because of course you will have to move all the day and for that be at ease. But more important than that… Aomine started feeling sleepy waiting for you.

«  I swear that woman…! And she’s the one complaining about me being slow in the shower ? »

As he stand up, deciding to go upstairs to see what the hell you were doing, how surprised the man was to see… so much skin, so much shape of your body revealed in public sight. Wearing a mini grey rayed skirt with a rather great body complimenting black shirt you thought was pretty, you felt like dressing cute today but still picked sneakers instead of boots for practical reasons.

And to Aomine eyes it was for sure the only reasonable choice you made while composing that whole look because yes you were cute. But also edible and straight up gorgeous and it would be hard for him to one : let you expose yourself like this. Two : not worry about others perverted people like him and three control himself around you. And for how long you two are together… you must know about this, about him getting turned on quickly but here you were today dressed like this and ignoring him as if you were provoking him…

« Change. 

– Ah ? What did you say ?

– I dont like your outfit. Go change it right now. He says, his eyebrows frowning already.

– No ? What’s wrong with it ? I know it’s not practical but it’s my problem ?

– Don’t start getting on my nerves asking me what’s wrong with it as if it wasn’t obvious !

– Well it’s definitely not obvious to me, so I’m going out like this… and I didn’t ask for your opinion anyway ? But since it’s a thing to share unasked opinion I will kindly let you know that you seriously behave like a prick sometimes ! »

And as you sigh and show to Aomine your now pissed expression you take the keys of the house and open up the door to get out, giving him a mean glare so he as well would get out so you can close behind. He reluctantly does that, showing with his facial expression the annoyance on his face but calm down as he sees the stupid people he have to call friends stationing themselves in front of his house.

Already setting his mind that if Kise is one of the idiot driving one of the two car, he’s not getting up in his and neither are you.

«  Dai-chan, Y/n-chan ! Be quick some of us are really excited and impatient for all the fun waiting for us ! »

As Aomine spot the pinky haired girl he immediately see that the car in which she sits so clingily next to Kuroko is full thanks to Midorima, who was unfortunately witnessing her overly affectionate gestures from the back as well and Kagami and Himuro in front. Giving him no choice but to sit in the back of the beige cabriolet car just behind he know is Kise’s, but for the love of god or for just as much unfortune it was Kise’s girlfriend driving instead making him consider the possibility of having a safe trip and two seats were free next to a guy he believes is Takao ? It wasn’t his friend per se but yeah.

«  Sorry guys, we didn’t intend to get out late… it seems we’re the last ? You get out from your mouth hesitating.

– Yes but no need for excuses, pretty ladies don’t have to and I am quite sure it is Aomine that got you running late isn’t it ? 

– Oi, what you’re insinuating ?! » Retorts Aomine to the only woman beside you.

And as she snickers, Takao get out of the car to open the door for you like a gentleman would do while Aomine was childishly arguing. Like you Kise’s girlfriend was friend with everyone here and you included.

«  Hey you don’t need to ! It’s a bit embarrassing…

– Nah no worry cute girls have every rights ! And I like to be a gentleman for ladies anyway !

– Right ? I too have to say that your outfit is nice today Y/n-chan !

But you can’t take it all the compliment on your clothing and you.

«  Y’all know I can’t take compliments like that… And don’t call me cute !

– And Y’all better stop stealing my girl as if i was not here… I can’t trust a person in this car I swear ! Move, I’m going to hold the damn door for her ! Aomine tell Takao in an authoritative tone.

– Eh… Is Aominecchi jealous or something ? So easily…

– I think so ! But don’t say that out loud or he’s seriously going to anger up..»

Takao retake his seat, while the young lady laugh in amusement looking at Aomine opening up the door for you and following in just after as you take a seat, today afternoon already announced itself promising..!

« I think he fear that we will steal her from him, poor man… Kise girlfriend say in all her slyness.

– As if !!»

And that way the lil trip started, Aomine briefly looking at you with what was sure his sulky expression. You didn’t know what to do as you know from experience that you can’t have a mature discussion with him reacting like this and do not want to bring down the cheering and light atmosphere in the car. So you ignored him, praying internally that he would just stop and get over it after some time. But you’re not sure as today’s crazy driver decided to do dry drift for the the thrill of it hence you did find often yourself clinging into Aomine, your chest pressed against his hot torso… and he was even more pissed off ? Leading you to as soon as you can, separate yourself from him, not willing to increase the felt temperature in your body as today weather was pretty hot by itself and Aomine annoyance.

Seeing you sweating bullets rather quickly Takao share with you his fawn while doing lil chit chat until everyone get in destination (safely.) and once you can get out of the car you find yourself sighing in appeasement while everyone starts getting hyped up and excited for the upcoming fun. You want to join them as you gather the necessary energy when Aomine at your side stopped you mid track, arranging your uplifted skirt caused by the long sitting in the car. You wouldn’t have said anything if it was a simple cute and wary gesture but you felt it like the over protective one ? Even if it was definitely a nice gesture of him as he leave it at that, scoff and walk behind everyone when the group was even more dynamic after getting their tickets checked.

«  Aomine… Can you walk faster ? We’re going to loose them ?

– Well I know it’s not practical but it’s my problem ? Just walk with them you dummy if it bother you so much !»

You look at him for a great second hesitating if not wrestling him right now or not but you know he’s just still upset for your dressing choice. What was a childish argument motive and you keep walking at his speed, not willing to leave him behind.

But it was a bit annoying seeing everyone having fun without both of you, Momoi holding Kuroko hand while he was getting her candies, Himuro and Kagami sharing their childhood memories with Takao, Kise and his partner when Midorima was looking for his lucky item…

Maybe themselves didn’t tried to insert you in their fun because they as well were sensing that tension between you and Aomine ?

« Kuroko-kun you’re so nice ! Getting me that plushie bear along with my favorite candies… you’re the best ! »

Everyone stopped talking to gasp at Momoi cute plushie bear, motivating Kise to get one for his own girlfriend like Kuroko did and others dudes to catch a plushie for the sake of showing their skills at the shooting game as well. The whole group was gathering itself in front of the little stand game.

«  Look Taiga ! I got it first try ! Himuro inform him with a smile.

– You wait ! I won’t loose to you Tatsuya ! Hmpf !

And they get themselves involved in a competition.

– Dai-chan look at my plushie ! Win one for Y/n-chan as well I bet she would like it ! Right ? Look Ki-chan is doing it for his girl !

–…Plushies are for kiddos Uh ! Why should I waste my energy getting it for her ? Do you even want to have one ? »

You look at Kise receiving a cheek kiss in reward of getting the bunny plushie, his face quickly turning to a soft red as he brag about getting it first try when you noticed him copying Himuro to amaze his girlfriend. You turn around Aomine knowing exactly what you want.

«  Yes ? It’s super cute even if you say it’s a kid thing…

– Dai-chan can be so unromantic…!

– Alright… I’m going to get that stupid thing for you and play that game ! »

Aomine take the fake gun in hand, lazily holding it right to shot but miss his cible… it happen one time, two, three…

«  Aominecchi bhahahaha ! What’s going on ? You missed every shots ?! 

– Better shut up or I am shooting you instead !

He say as the chamber of the gun was empty and that he didn’t had a thing to load, turning around to face Kise, clearly angry.

– As if I should be scared, you’re going to miss me as well– !

Aomine with his piercing glance drop down his weapon and quite literally jump on the blonde to pinch aggressively his nose and hair hence stray his face in ugly facial expression and pain. What does start a silly fight between the two boys.

«  UH WHY ARE YOU SO AGGRESSIVE IT WAS JUST A JOKE !

– I’m going to make a joke out of you’ll see !

– Did we look like this when we were younger Tatsuya ?

– I dont think so…

– It’s so embarrassing going out with these two idiots… If it wasn’t for my today horoscope I wouldn’t be here certainly. »

You watch unamused Aomine getting separated from Kise now showing him the angry look… Aomine today just decided to be a baby ?! You’re not going to ruin your day because of his childish behavior.

«  Not only you can’t get the plushie when every boys got one for their partner and you get yourself in stupid fight… how old are you ? A 4 years old little boy or something ? »

And hearing you saying that everyone just try to hold their laugh because the punchline was honestly and surely aimed to touch your boyfriend ego but damn… that man had a huge one and he would for sure defend himself. And he does even if they saw him blinking twice before responding to you.

« Calling me a 4 year old kid when you’re the one asking for an ugly cat plushie, don’t you think you have quite the audacious mouth ?! »

And you two starts bickering stupidly when the others tried to calm you down, it wasn’t serious but you know both of you could be stubborn so you didn’t know how they did but they end up making you shutting up and he as well. Now Aomine and you giving each other’s the cold shoulder but still walking together in the amusement park.

Multiples funny things happening when you two were still in cold period… that hangout was still fun but just not between you and Aomine.

«  It seems like we do have a problem here… if we can’t agree on going to the same attractions what about separating ourselves? So nobody is unhappy ! »

Say Takao which wanted absolutely to show to Shintarou the scary house attraction after some time but Momoi and Kuroko didn’t wanted trying it because of Momoi fear for them and others like Kise and Kagami asking to go somewhere else.

«  Tatsuya and me are going to try that food truck then ! What are y’all going to do ?

– I will keep go playing that plushie game again with Testu-kun !

–… Me and Kise are going to do something nice.. ? Probably trying that big attraction over there !

– Okay so I guess only people left are Y/n-chan and Aomine ? What are y’all going to do ? It would be better if you two stayed together so we don’t end up having to search up for one person at the end of the day…

– Yeah ! And Dai-chan must watch over her and make peace !

–…..

You silently look at Aomine, letting him decide. 

– We will see walking in the park what we’re going to… It doesn’t concern y’all.

– You say that as if you didn’t came here with us. Would you stop being a problem for everyone Dai-chan ?!

– Calm down Momoi-chan ! Who excepted a nice response from Aomine anyway..? Okay so let’s meet here in an hour.! Is it good for everyone ? »

The group after concertation agrees and separate itself while you stare unamused and angry at your boyfriend. Everyone moved but you and him and you didn’t find it funny.

« Is Mister Pain in the Ass ready to go try some food with me or has others plans ? And if you can’t tell I’m clearly upset with you !

– Woah… (Y/n) is mad toward me what should I do ? Man I’m in for real problems…

– Why do you have to bring down everyone with your bad energy ?!

– And why the fuck do you always need to feel like testing my limits ?! I told you… I told you to not wear this. Flocks of dude keep staring at you while you innocently jump around ! I knew it !

–…Well I didn’t ask for their attention ?! Are you calling me slut or something ?! »

You look angrily at Aomine as he corner you on that tree behind you and get closer to your face. It was like he was sick or something, sweat covering his forehead and light blush on his cheeks.

– And what if I told you you’re just a little whore ? What are you going to do ? You keep acting as if you were above me in any way but you’re just a stupid brat… getting cocky in front of people because I let you throw one or two punchlines… know your place, only thing you say when I fuck you is mercy ! »

And as those words get out of his mouth you understand the situation and get bright red. You get flustered because you realized that you got your boyfriend horny all along, since you get down upstairs precisely and the thought of him feeling crazy by seeing you walking around like this made your panty wet. Which also made you reconsider things about yourself.

«  Whaat–

– Alright, I can’t bare with you playing the idiot with me anymore. You’re going to make something out useful of this mouth or everyone going to see I’m hard and I’ve already embarrassed myself enough today !

– Wait ! »

Aomine grip your wrist and drag you in the green space cloturing the amusement park wich was a semblance of forest but still secluded and far from people. Each steps in the middle of the trees making you embarrassed even more…. You know what does he want, what does he need but doing something so dirty here ? It’s not like a stupid kiss or something… it’s a lot more perverted and sinful.

Once Aomine think he found an appropriate space he stops and turn toward you, leaning down so he can kiss you and wipe out your current confused expression for an even more confused one. His tongue passionately playing with yours as he get his big hands walking on your shirt.

«  I can’t do that Daiki… Not here please, I am so sorry I didn’t know about what you felt… I am going to do everything you want once we get home.

– If so sorry then why not here ? I can’t wait this long ! And don’t be a coward there is no one who’s going to come here ! We’re awaited in an hour so don’t waste our precious time… and look at you getting wet when I talk to you dirty. You likes guys who are mean to you don’t you ? Stop fooling around…»

Aomine caress your inner tight, making you whine in his mouth as he’s shutting you up with kisses. Slowly getting up to your so sensible cunt, how pretty, how beautiful you were when silenced.

«  Wait– I can… I can…

– Get to the point, finish this sentence or I will ignore it !

– Can we not have sex here if… if I suck your dick..? Please ! And I still would let you touch me at home… it’s just so embarrassing here ! »

You look at Aomine in the eyes but don’t read anything on his face making you wonder if you were damned to being wrecked in a so open place. You slowly grasp his cock so compressed and tight in his pant and get down its level. And as you see Aomine let you be, not saying anything, you shyly get the monster out by downlifting his boxers.

Letting it resting on your face in a moment of hesitation but it was so heavy you lifted it up with your right hand and started wrapping your toungue around it engulfing it in your mouth. ´ Oh nasty, oh naughty but seeing Aomine calming down made it easier for you even if you find his facial expression quite intimidating but that as well you didn’t commented on because you found yourself pleasured sucking him off.

You paid attention to lick every surface of this long and so big dick, being very devoted in your mission even if you would choke on it from time to time because Aomine would go deeper in your mouth by pushing your head forward as he pull your hair without warnings. Your saliva covering the wet cock again and again for minutes you thought were quite long but Aomine still haven’t come and you found yourself flustered when Aomine decide to pull himself out suddenly while you were teary sucking his balls.

«  Show me your chest.»

Knowing the animal, you don’t make yourself awaited and raise your shirt up, the mouth closeted as you try to not humiliate yourself by showing the interior of it, your saliva stained with the substance that formed on his tip wich was certainly pre-cum. But little did you know there was some of it still running on the corner of your lips. As you don’t have time to noticing it as Aomine position his dick between your boobs and move up and down on it. His dick being so long it reach your cheeks while doing that from time to time. Because you didn’t removed completely your tight shirt, it got down in the way and has been stained by the substance surrounding Aomine cock making you looking more absurd and really embarrassed. But you wish he left things at that when Aomine after so long time ended up releasing on your top. His hot and warm semence covering your chest and face… He wipes out the leftover sticking to his member on your face like some dirty clothing but you don’t say anything as your job end here.

Or you thought.

«  Now stand up. »

You stand up wondering why he’s bothering asking you that when you were about to it just to see your shirt tired up apart along with your bra shocking but also panicking you. But no words leave you mouth as Aomine fingers pinch your tits and that he now position his dick near your entrance, just below it, sticking himself to you with his still hard cock.

It was like your panty disappeared in a split second as he rub himself against you.

«  You accepted to let me be if I would su– If i did what I did to you Daiki ! What are you doing ?

– I dont remember ever agreeing to that… It’s not my fault if you can’t help but open your mouth for my cock like a slut. If you would now open your legs for me… »

You try to keep it low as Aomine use his hand for your clitoris and left nipple but you’re pretty sure you’re panting and loudly on top of that because of how mean Aomine is with you. Teasing you with the tip by faking getting in but always turning around your pussy. But then he lifted your miniskirt completely and got into you slowly as it would always be hard for you to adapt his size. And after that ? You can’t tell what’s going on but you breathe like crazy bouncing on that cock and pressed against a tree. It feel so good being wrecked without mercy, punished by Daiki. His hands slapping your buttcheeks while his dick was throbbing into your womanhood faster and deeper making your eyes roll back. All of his back and forth getting more intense by the time.

«  So tight..! » He says but keep going.

The sounds of your skin making so impure sounds turning you on more but you want to beg in protest like the brat you are. Internally praying for him to not stop. But you couldn’t argue anyway because of this awful moans you can’t control getting out of your mouth when Aomine rolling his hips feel so good.

«  Are you calling for a public ? And you’re the one getting upset when I call you a whore… You only shut that mouth when there is a dick in it, uh ? When you choke on it ? Dirty girl… »

And now you’re upset by his dirty talk arousing you, making your whimper louder. Fuck. You feel release close, at least your walls narrowing around him would make him shut up for a moment you thought but Aomine thrust in just more aggressively that you believe you will fall from him pounding so hard in no time but it’s nothing of that as you feel your tights shaking ready to give in instead but Aomine didn’t want it that way and you didn’t wanted it that way no more as well as you spot something in the distance.

Was it Kise and his girlfriend walking…? You start getting anxious as you know that if you made too much noise they would notice you but if you had been able to see them in that posture you fear that even aside from the loud noises they would spot you.

Is it the public Aomine was talking about ?

«  Not yet..! »

He wanted to make you suffer much more, wanted to see you beg and excuse yourself. He wanted you to roll down on your knee again and ask for his forgiveness while you suck him off again like earlier. You looked so cute doing this and you look as cute now scared that Kise and his girl would see you. Unfortunately for you, he really wanted to show them you were his.

«  Say it. Say that you’re a whiny bitch. 

– Ah ?! Please Daiki…

– Y/N ! »

You needed to make it as fast as possible.

« I am… a whiny bitch ! You manage to droll from your mouth.

– A very naughty bitch. Add that.

– And a very… very nau– aah! »

And you couldn’t hold it, coming on his dick so hard, screaming louder than you thought and… « the public » looked in your direction but you didn’t saw it. Eyes closed while you came on Aomine dick that he pulled out to came on your ass. His translucid and warm substance now sticking to your skin.

«  So useless. Not even capable to say things right. »

And you couldn’t help but give him the angry look as he said that, defying him to add something else but as he clean his dick on your skirt all the while looking right into your eyes, reality call you out as you know he’s completely able to go for a second round. You get up and search immediately for your panty on the floor just to see your boyfriend playing with it, making it hang out on his cock for you to take there.

«  You’re an asshole, Daiki. The biggest I’v ever seen ! 

– Are you upset because seeing my dick make you want to kiss it again ? »

And you see red, snatching your panty away without a second glance.

«  By the way… I told you our time was precious, if you didn’t acted so mannered Kise would’nt have caught us in the act…. It was like they were looking for us. »

But as you were putting it right back in place, hearing Aomine say that freeze you on the spot and you realize in the embarrassing situation you get yourself in or that Aomine dragged you in. Just because he was a pouty baby !

«  Oh my… »

You’re muffling your mouth desperately as you try to smack your head against a tree, knowing you would never be able to go back with everyone learning about this… and you didn’t had a presentable top anymore if not mentioning the dirty skirt to even lie your way out.

You snatch away Aomine jacket, putting it on you as you try to make something out of the tissue of your top to make it natural but it doesn’t work so you just cover everything up with the jacket while Aomine can’t stop himself but laugh. You give him a slap in the crotch while getting yourself going toward the meeting point ready to say hi everyone and goodbye right away, leaving Aomine behind but you remember you got here thanks to Kise’s car and you feel like the world is against you.

«  FUUUUUUCK.

– That’s what we did one minute ago. »

And you decide to hide behind Aomine as he get himself to head up as well meeting the others.

«  Do you have no shame ?! How are you okay that we have been caught doing it ? 

– Like I said it was the public you were searching for right ? So why are you scared for ? 

– You don’t care about it, don’t you ?»

And you sigh, exasperated as the forest come to an end that not that far from the rendezvous point you find yourself greeted by your worried friends, or at least most of them…. Kise and his lover whispering in each other’s ears, slightly blushing as they keep conversing and looking at Aomine and you. It seems like they got out of the embarrassed and surprised phase as they looked like having the fun of their life laughing at both of y’all, playful expression on their face. You know they were in to slide a dirty joke once in the car or analyzing your sex life from this sneak a peek they had.

But you wish it was only that as Midorima look at you and Aomine like demons.

«  Why do both of you smell like sex ?! »

And it was the end of you when you hear everyone gasp and hold their breath.

#aomine daiki #aomine x reader #knb #kuroko no basket #knb scenarios

[comeonblub]

i do this thing where i write notes about my knowledge of a new media before starting it, my experience during it, and then my perspective after (if i finish)

separately, ive also been losing my mind about Outer Wilds for well over a week now. ive decided i want to share it

(if you notice that it's been years since ive posted on here no you didn't)

also if you haven't played the game, i recommended you do not read this and instead go download Outer Wilds

spoilers below

NOTES: Outer Wilds / before playing

- has that one song with annoying whistling that i always skip when it shows up on Spotify

- that one person i follow on Tumblr absolutely loves it it's like their favourite game

- seems like it might be emotional or something?

- uhhhh space aliens? i think??

NOTES: Outer Wilds / start playing

- omg the controls SUCk

- oh IM the alien

- lag lag lag and very not keyboard friendly (yes im playing with a keyboard no i don't have a controller)

- ...

- okay keybind + graphics adjustments, and ive made it ever so slightly better

- i do not want to talk to you

- I DO NoT know what i am supposed to be doing what what what

- maybe i shouldve talked to people

- uhhhhh did I do that?

- the world explodes and dies. why. bc of me?

- UHHh

- oh hey the game references the fact i died lol

- okay Doing this again i guess and won't repeat the thing that killed me i think

- don't fucking TouCH that thing it explodes worlds

- okay okay im getting good info i think def don't want to die this time unless i can save

- do i save at that one statue? let's try

- WAIT FUCK FUCK The World's exploding again WHY

- BUHHHH

- "you're lucky im in a timeloop because otherwise I'd be super dead" – LMAO OKAY I MAY BE WON OVER

- okay so the explosions are independent of me. im going back to that thing and fucking around w/ it

- ...

- 15 Hours Into Game

- brittle hollow and i are besties now

- the lore is intricate ain't it. at times i feel like i understand everything. at others im completely lost. if there's a strategy here i don't know it. im just compelled to explore

- the Southern Observatory kinda went off tho with that visual and music combo

- the Fucking Moon

- i got stuck in anglerfish overlook w/ rising sand and just had to wait to die by being scrunched on the ceiling. absolutely worst way to go was awful and i hated it

- 22 min......

- reading explanations that completely recontexutalizes things i'd took for granted or previously ignored is a trip and a half

- my worldview gets shattered every other loop, millions dead but don't worry death means nothing

- like "the sun station",.. oh. "22 min interval"... OH

- i don't know what else to do here

- giants deep whomst ive ignored

- THERES ANOTHER PERSON WHO STUCK IN THIS TIMELOOP WITH ME?

- !!!

- gabbro my beloved

- hhhngg these puzzles.. am i missing something. should i know it now. will i learn it later. the stupid watery core and electricity...

- ...

- 25 Hours Into Game

- i know this galaxy

- i know it intimately

- but there are some places that are just so stupidly challenging to get to. i get there once. i never want to have to do it again. (giants deep core– once. sun station– once. coleus' lakebed quantum cave– twice. centre of the interloper– twice. the vessel– once. high energy lab– twice.)

- ...

- quantum moon whoag

- uh hm what

- YOURE ALIVE

- solanum i love u

- "think of you as a friend" PLS CAN I HUG

- ...

- 30+ HOURS INTO GAME

- i figured out the ash twin core

- i chickened out of taking the thing to do other things instead. achievement hunting.

- it's simply much too scary. no fallback. what happens if no core, no loop

- oh

- .. oh

- fucking hell i didn't realize how much id become dependent on the safety net of a timeloop. of like, functional immortality

- the fear of the unknown. of something new. of actual death

- ...

- well then

- FINISHING MAIN GAME

- i took the core. i left the ash twin project.

- music immediately begins kicking up into something new and emotional and anticipatory

- I DIDN'T KNOW THERE WAS MORE TO DO

- i panic and warp back to ask twin project. return the core to the machine

- what a wuss. but i feel better

- think think think think

- where Have I Seen that before. the core

- okay i have an idea of what to do but. fear

- I PRACTICE. Practice! i do 3+ runs to test getting past those Fucking FISH

- AND THEN DO IT FOR REAL

- screaming and crying

- BUT I SUCCEED

- whhhjhb whoaggh

- eye...

- HhhHhh quantummmm

- what

- what

- what

- a guy

- what

- ... euuuu cry mine friendsss

- ayy the fucking hell im emotional

- goddamn. What A Game. that music. holy shit

- ...

NOTES: Outer Wilds / post playing

- even as i did the ending there was still a small part of me that thought... i can save them

- ... (there will be a way to save them)

- there wasn't of course. and it hurt. but... not in a completely bad way

- it's like. the small flickering hope i felt at the end of all things, it still meant something. it still got me TO the end

- i know it was just a game but. it makes me think

- ...

- BONUS Saga of me accomplishing achievements: the fact that i later was able to break reality and also talk to myself in game was fun and cool and sexy

- i WILL be playing DLC but i need to recover

#outer wilds #outer wilds spoilers #long post #live reaction (kind of partially) #back from the dead bc i needed to empty my brain #i actually have played echoes of the eye too bu this point #maybe will share those notes too if ppl like

[the-haunted-office]

432 has been spending a lot of time in the offices as of late. Stalking around. Sulking. Sitting in the control booth staring at a set-up of at least a dozen monitors all day every Wednesday. Narrating stories for folks on occasion. Watching the idiots who live in the office run around doing their idiotic things.

Why is she even doing this? This is stupid. And more often than not boring and annoying. Just earlier that day she sat there and watched while Thursday, Doomsday, and Thisday ran up and down the hallways cavorting like a bunch of idiotic, hyperactive flamingos. For no apparent reason other than for the sheer hell of it.

(Cut here due to length!)

Well, then, she supposes that must be the reason why she's watching all this stupid shit happen around the offices - for the sheer hell of it. She'd be doing the same thing in the In Between in her incorporeal state, after all, wouldn't she? Floating around. Watching people all throughout time and space through a bunch of shards like life itself is a television sitcom. It certainly feels that way sometimes, anyway.

Like with the way she's been stationed up in this little booth. It was Thursday's idea that she come up here every Wednesday to watch the office and narrate stories for visitors, although the why of it still remains a mystery to her. Her former coworker suggested it with a radiant smile - the same smile she remembered her having back when she was known as Christine while she herself was... somewhere between identities and not really knowing who she was - albeit a mysterious one, one that suggested she knew more than she was letting onto.

Dumb Thursday and her dumb ideas.

And yet she was complying, again leading to the question as to why.

You know why... her own voice sounds off in her thoughts.

She's about to tell herself to shut up when she spots something unusual on one of the monitors.

Now, "something unusual" in the offices doesn't amount to much when there are literally ghosts, monsters, death gods, gods, demons, living viruses, people with extra limbs, people missing limbs, literal objects, and people made out of shapes walking around. 432 herself is "something unusual" in that she is a sort of ghost, one who has had both her physical body and her soul destroyed, leaving her as a mass of disincorporated energy that can only be held together by being merged with other damaged souls, and even so she's still a grotesque mess of constantly shifting gelatinous flesh and limbs, a semi-transparent blob filled with stray eyeballs, teeth, and other spare parts. That's how she is even able to sit there at those monitors in the control booth to begin with.

But this "unusual something" strikes her as especially unusual because it's not something she's seen often. Only once, in fact. When her soul was killed - when it was fully digested and essentially shat out by the extraterrestrial parasitic mist that had killed her and nearly all of her coworkers, and until recently held this office and its two Narrators as its hosts.

She could remember that moment when the end finally came - a sort of end, as it were. The pain suddenly stopped and she couldn't feel... anything anymore. Couldn't see either. Everything was a mess of colorful shapes and swirls, racing around her in a way that would have made her feel nauseated had she a body left with which to experience the sensation of nausea. As she did not have a body - nor a fully intact soul - any longer, the best she could feel was disoriented and confused.

As she stumbled about in this formless form, one thing came to stand out to her - a bright green shape, like that of a loose triangle of glass clinging onto the window frame of a shattered window. An emerald colored shard, standing out brightly against all the other nonsensical pastel hues. She'd touched it and had sort of fallen into the in between dimensions dimension known as the In Between.

That was what she was seeing now, on the monitor on the far right, which is monitoring the executive bathroom.

"...The gates are open? ...Why?" she finds herself muttering to herself.

Seconds later she is going down to investigate, not bothering to announce to any of her officemates what she has witnessed and what she is doing. This office, as far as 432 is concerned, is an extension of her territory in the In Between. If anyone - or anything - thinks they can slink on through and into her territory without answering to her, they're going to have another thing coming to them.

That thing being her seventeen or so arms coming to rip them to pieces.

She intends on doing just that if this intruder doesn't answer for themself.

Goopy ghostly flesh oozing off her slug-like body in mucky rivulets and thirty or so faces peering out of her body in curiosity at what lies ahead, 432 pushes open the door to the executive bathroom expecting to find either a formless soul in there or a monster like herself.

Instead she finds a perfectly intact, well-dressed woman appearing to be in her thirties in there.

For a moment the ghost is taken aback by the sight of this other ghost and her - quite frankly - stunningly normal appearance.

The woman stands at approximately five feet seven inches. Her blonde hair is immaculately swept up into a look bun pinned with chopsticks or something similar enough to them. Her skin is pale - deathly pale - but is colored in with make-up, setting delicate roses into her cheeks and soft pink blush around her bright yellow eyes, giving an almost porcelain doll-ish look to her. A long, tan-colored winter coat sits buttoned over top of what appears to be a deep burgundy business suit. She's also decorated in an abundant variety of flashy jewelry - earrings, necklaces, rings. Many rings, at least one on each finger, two on some, each one set with a vibrantly colored stone. It is perhaps the jewels, above all else, that stand out.

The woman looks 432 up and down.

And smiles.

"Good to see you, 432," she says, her tone flowing out of her like honey.

The shattered soul stands there staring at the woman, like she's something beyond an apparition.

Like she's just seen God.

Or Satan.

She blinks, snapping herself out of it, lowers her massive ever-changing head, and scowls, "Who the hell are you? Go back the way you came or I'll tear you to shreds."

"Why so violent? I've only just gotten here," the woman replies, still smiling.

That smile. It's all wrong. It's more teeth than smile, and it doesn't reach her eyes. Not really. 432 has seen real smiles... and that one's not one of them.

"This is my office, and you aren't welcome here," 432 growls again, taking a step closer to her to show that she's being serious.

"You're wrong about that," sings the woman, removing her coat and dropping it to the ground, where it vanishes. She reaches up and refastens a button on her burgundy suit jacket that has come undone.

432 blinks.

"Here. To show I mean no harm," says the woman, producing something from out of nowhere. Handing it over, her lips pull tighter as her smile widens.

A pencil. An unsharpened pencil.

What the fuck... is as far as 432 gets before she finds herself suddenly short of breath - which is quite a feat for someone who doesn't actually need to breathe any longer.

She’s standing there, stunned, trying to figure out if this is real or not, when the next thing she feels is like something is being ripped out of her. But again, how is this possible when she is already dead and doesn't have a real, living body full of things to be ripped out? Yet there's the feeling, as the woman's manicured hand disappears into what would be her chest, and clamps down, like it's got hold of something, and pulls forcefully back out, sending ghostly goop everywhere in lieu of actual blood.

The goop that has separated gradually coalesces back into the whole, but even so 432 can sense that something is missing.

Someone is missing.

She can hear them as they are dragged away, crying for her.

"September! September, help me! Help me! HELP MEEEE!"

432 snaps out of her state of shock and lunges after the woman. "Give them back! Give them back to me!" she cries, now no longer feeling fierce and confident but terrified - terrified not only for herself, but for the shattered soul that was just dragged out of her.

432... That was the other 432, the first shattered soul she ever merged with...

With hardly any effort at all from the other woman, 432 is batted aside, as simply and easily as a cat batting at a toy.

And remarkably... it hurts.

It feels like being burned with ice - or frozen with fire.

That feeling. She remembers that feeling, that godawful horrendous feeling of being torn out of her body as the mist descended on her, killing her body while sucking out her soul. That feeling of icy fire searing into her lungs, suffocating her, extinguishing her own flame of life.

It’s paralyzing, every bit as much now as it was then. And all she can do is lie there, stunned, feeling herself begin to disincorporate as the woman in red smiles down at her as though they've just concluded a simple business meeting.

"Know your place, 432," she says, and walks away, leaving her former employee there on the ground with the pencil, questioning whether any of this was real.

#the haunted office #post apocalyptic fictional earth #september/432 #jane smith #cw horror #cw images of horror #not sure what else might warrant a content warning? #writing for days

[iwoulddieforienzo]

Sooo I gave Star Rail a proper try today, and I had a lot of fun! To spare you my ramblings, I’ve put them under a cut - and also please note that Star Rail is the only Honkai game I’ve bothered to play. I have Honkai Impact downloaded, but I really didn’t like the gameplay, so I dropped it immediately. So all of this is from the perspective of a Genshin player who is not, in any way, immersed in the Hoyoverse Lore (tm) and who also refuses to read the lore of either Genshin or Star Rail because Hoyoverse goes way too hard on the worldbuilding and I don’t have the brain to keep track of it all lmao

The tone is very different from Genshin, since it doesn’t take itself too seriously, and it has the type of silly characters that I’ve been craving for while playing Genshin. The combat (so far) is a little rough, but maybe that’s just me not being used to it yet, hehe. Sci-Fi has never really been my cup of tea, but once I got out of the space station I found myself having a blast. I love the main character a lot so far, they have such funny dialogue options! And the characters have a ton of chemistry, even with the mc, which is cool! Probably because Caelus/Stelle actually have voice lines and a more solid personality. I also like that you can actually see the gacha characters out in the wild and talk to them. They’re a team!! It’s cute.

I’m surprised by how much I like Dan Heng and March 7th, honestly! I thought March was cute when I saw her but I figured she’d get annoying quickly, and Dan Heng just seemed kinda boring. But they make such a fun trio with Caelus/Stelle, it’s adorable! Even what’s-his-face on the Express managed to endear me to him despite only having been on-screen for like 2 minutes so far. And I’m crossing my fingers for Himeko to come home, I took one look at her and I was gone. I’m not surprised at how attached I am to Trailblazer, though. Stoic weirdo protags are kinda my Thing, lol. (Even tho they’re actually very expressive! Caelus is, at least. I haven’t tried out Stelle yet) Everyone on the ice planet (that I can’t remember the name of) is very cool (ha) so far, and I’m really intrigued by the story unfolding in the city; Genshin tends to play it safe with morally grey people, but Star Rail seems a bit more willing to pick at the complexities of.. at least Cocolia’s leadership, though I’ll have to see how that goes.

So far though, I’m most intrigued by something I probably shouldn’t be… but I Gotta know who the narrator is and their relationship to Trailblazer. They’re clearly not the same person, since you can choose dialogue options to talk with them, sooo… who are they? I’m personally running with the (almost certainly) incorrect idea that it’s Stelle (since I chose Caelus). Just cause I think she’s Neat. But I also am choosing to believe that Caelus/Stelle is not a real person and has only been alive for like, 2 days at this point. So my “theories” are mostly just excuses for me to make stupid jokes. Still! I do want to know what’s going on with the narrator…

Really glad Kafka & Silver Wolf didn’t stick around, honestly. I’m sure they’ll endear me to them eventually, but I really disliked their voice acting and Silver Wolf’s tone in particular got on my nerves. Also their introduction just felt kinda awkward, like they were going for badass but ended up in condescending, kinda cringy teenager territory. They’re why I struggled to get past the tutorial for a while. That, and the aforementioned space station - I hate that kind of slate grey factory esque background So Much. It’s so boring. But I am FREE! And also I can make Kafka mommy jokes because of the aforementioned “theory” and she won’t even be around to hear them. Bless

Sooo… yeah! Very excited to keep playing :)

#no spoilers please~ #snack time #longpost #Honkai Star Rail #Honkai Star Rail spoilers #very very mild but just in case!

[msbarrows]

Just a bunch of random scenic shots taken over the last few days.

Only done a little recent base building; mostly I’ve been dealing with the annoyance that is the game “forgetting” space stations and planets I’ve already discovered (even if I just revisted them the freaking day before, in more than one case) by consolidating my bases. I’ve been getting rid of a lot of my “only base in system” places, and instead expanding to having multiple bases spread across fewer systems. In a few cases purposefully going out and looking for additional base sites, if the only base currently in system is one I particularly want to keep for one reason or another (a build I’m particularly pleased with, a more expensive than normal wreck to recover, etc). Which has meant a lot of exploration, since it’s fairly rare to find a salvageable wreck on the first try, and that’s still one of my main criterion in “where to build a new base”. I have gone through so. many. maps. the last few days.

The only lone bases I’m mostly keeping are my built-for-the-local-aesthetic places, where I don’t have a handy respawning wreck that I want to haul off for salvage regularly; I don’t care if the game forgets the space station there, as I’m unlikely to feel the need for a visit to it anyway.

Also, what is with the stupidity of how the game chooses to forget space stations? It doesn’t seem to bear any relationship to how often or how recently I’ve visited any specific station, it just... vanishes from the list. Randomly. Totally not kidding about even if i just visited it the day before. The forgetting I’ve already discovered specific planets (and/or the minerals, flora, and fauna on them) is slightly less annoying, since it means I can rediscover them and get nanites for the discoveries all over again.

#No Man's Sky #Time for adventure! #Euclid Galaxy

[chaoslulled]

❛ you don’t want me, you just want to kiss somebody. ❜ ( during the dumb baby years... )

Sometimes, missions get boring  ––  and you wind up talking about random things, things that teenagers talk about.  Things that come up because you're boys and you're teens, and underneath being sorcerers and dealing with curses, they are still human.  Despite the things that set them apart, that is the crux of it.  They are still human.  And being human means that human emotions and feelings come up.  It means that his tongue has been winding around the top of a lollipop for the past fifteen minutes as Suguru leans against the back of the bench, smoke curling from his lips and into the skies above, further polluting Tokyo.

Satoru thinks maybe it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. 

He doesn't say things like that out loud though.  They are friends  ––  best friends, and the thought of ambling over lines that naturally come with that makes his chest feel tight.  There's a whisper inside of him that aches to get closer, to step into his space, to curl into Suguru and feel the warmth of him seeping through his clothes and into his own.  Sometimes he thinks of his cologne when he's trying not to, tries not to think of the way that his smoke clings to his clothes, too.  The way that Suguru is all over him  ––  a marking of being his, even though they have never spoken about it.

So naturally, when the topic of kissing comes up, Satoru does something stupid  ––  he brags.  He brags because it's easy to do; he's a naturally good looking guy and has had his share of kisses behind trees and in classrooms when no one was looking.  He's taken them as thank you's after missions and grinned at pretty boys behind the counters of gas stations.  He's snuck his numbers in at bakeries and batted his blue eyes and gotten more pastries than he wants to admit for free.

Satoru is ambitious in that way.  He does it to forget.  He does it to forget that the one person that he wants to be kissing is Suguru.  That he pictures the lavender eyed brunette next to him more times than he wants to admit.

Because you don't tell your best friend that.  You write it off as hormones and intrusive thoughts and move on from it.  You don't get into the intricacies of it.  That's not something that he needs to confront.

Besides, he has his hands full of annoying clan meetings  ––  assessing his powers, Yaga vouching for them, and another check being written so that the school gets more funding.  It's fine that way  ––  with his mind drifting during the meeting, eyes glancing out the window, going toward lavender eyes and upturned lips and the wonder of if they taste like the cigarettes he smokes or not.  And it's a hand coming down in front of him and jarring him out of his fantasy, a pout on his lips and attention forced.

They sit here though  ––  they're waiting for Mei Mei to call back; she's out training with Shoko today and they're supposed to meet up.  They had already exorcised their curse, which means they get to sprawl themselves out on the bench and indulge in coffee and cigarettes and the endless amount of sweets that Satoru's begun to accumulate.

He wonders again if Suguru tastes like cigarettes.  He wonders if he could like the taste.  He wonders if Suguru would like the sweetness on his tongue.

Teeth bite into his lip for a moment as he tries to chase the thought away like he has every time before.  His head is full of thoughts  ––  too many of them to truly settle on.  So he brings his attention back toward his back of sweets and sorts through them again; never really picking one out, just giving his hands something to do.  It keeps them from reaching out, which is his main goal.

〝  He wasn't a good kisser though.  I'm starting to think boys just suck at kissing.  〞  Another package moved, sorted past the extra packs of smokes within it.   〝  I mean, I could kiss you.  Are you a good kisser?  You could change my mind and make me not give up on boys altogether.  〞

Eyes glance up over his sunglasses as he gives him a toothy grin, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.  It's a stupid suggestion  ––  it's stupid and it had just came out before he could stop it.  His heart is pounding  ––  he can hear it in his ears.  He thinks that maybe there will be some weird romcom moment where Suguru turns to him and tugs him close by his neck and they kiss and fall in love within seconds.

He needs to stop watching those with Shoko.  This is a stupid thought to even remotely indulge in.

Suguru's mouth opens and he watches the way that his fingers grip the filter of the cigarette, exasperation in his tone when he speaks.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.

Tongue presses up against the inside of his cheek.  Did he truly think that there was going to be some grand declaration of love?  That they'd embrace and kiss and live happily ever after?   It was never likely.  Satoru doesn't even know why he lets it get to him.

A sharp pull of a breath through his nose as he feels his heart plummet in his chest.  He doesn't need this right now, popping the lollipop deeper into his mouth, curling his tongue around it as he begs the sweet sugar in it to take away the black cloud that's slowly descended over him.  He hates himself  ––  he shouldn't have said anything.

Because why would Suguru want someone like him?  He is nothing but narcissism in the form of a white haired sorcerer with too blue eyes, ones that see too far and too much all at once.  He is a mess of bratty energy that makes his heart ache in his chest and his family write checks while he holds a black credit card between his fingers.  He is clan born and clan money  ––  Suguru is down to earth.  Suguru knows what it's like to come from a village and knows what it's like to work to protect.

Satoru has had everything handed to him.  Suguru has worked for all he has.

Maybe that's why he feels so petulant about all of this.  Suguru is someone he can't have.  He can have anything his heart desires, just not the very being his heart really wants.

He lets out a scoff, plays it off as he leans back on the bench once more and sprawls his long legs out, almost tripping a woman who's running by.   〝  I think you've just confirmed my statement.  Boys just suck.  〞

Tongue that's been dyed blue from the sucker sticks out dramatically, eyes rolling.  He's saved from further humiliation by his phone ringing, Mei Mei's name flashing across the screen.

#saiakv #ic. ❝ cleaning out the cobwebs ⧽ ❪ answered ❫ #i'm?? stupid emotional about this omg