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#These were mostly the suggested ones from Discord

prettyboykatsuki · 2 months

Note

I can just imagine fujo neet reader practicing different sex position with rin to make sure she gets the proportions right.

✮ tags ; fem!reader, sexual tension, rin's pov, RIN IS KIND OF MEAN TO HER BUT HE WANTS HER SO BAD FDKJJS, reader is a fujoshi and bl mangaka, pre-relationship, they work together, part of a ficverse i haven't written yet Sorry, ONE JOKE ABOUT RIN WANTING TO OFF HIMSELF, SUPER SUGGESTIVE LOL 18+

✮ wc ; 3.5k (WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!)

✮ a/n ; i had to do this for my sanity. i promise i will write them a proper fic with them i promise.

You never text Rin.

Not really. Not first at least. It's a new... friendship. Kind of. Sort of. Most of your communication thus far has been through meetings and random in-person chance encounters. Outside of that, Rin will call you since it's faster. If you do "text", it's mostly through twitter DM's.

There's a discord server your fans run, and you pop in there often enough. He's had the invitation extended but declined unilaterally, since he'd rather not see himself fucking Isagi anymore than he already has in his short, miserable career.

It surprised him this morning, seeing your message flash across the top of his screen. Asking, specifically, for him to come over and help you with something related to the new manga you were writing. He had it in his right mind to decline, but after learning it wasn't a doujin for him, he semi-reluctantly agreed.

Rin doesn't know when exactly your relationship to him grew this...comfortable. Inviting him over to your house, begging him for favors, not wincing every time he talks to you. Rin isn't an extrovert but compared to you he's a social butterfly. And your aversion to people in general, Rin thought, would prevent you from doing anything more than squeak at him forever just like you did when he met you.

(Though nothing in his life has been normal since your arrival in it. He's not sure why you would remain unchanged when he certainly hasn't.)

He doesn't know what to feel when you ask him for a favor, and he doesn't know what force of nature compels him to go. If it's morbid curiosity or annoyance or something else even worse.

It was compelling enough to take the train all the way out to Machida - an hour long trip from his own place. His manager hounded him to take you something, so he has a bag of ginseng energy drinks and snacks with him as a gift. He took the bus with his mask on, and then walked all the way to your building.

Your apartment is tucked somewhere classically suburban - attached at the far end of a residential street and behind concrete support beams for a highway just overhead. Cherry blossom trees and other shades of white flowers grow around it in thick patches, making the entrance hard to find. Rin would've had trouble if you didn’t give him details on exactly where to go.

It's an older building, stone walls worn and grass-stained from age. At the gate are groups of old people talking amongst each other as they sort through recycling and trash. All visor hats and sunspots, they fawn over Rin for a long while before he goes in and interrogates him with questions. None of them know him, which is relieving. It quickly graduates to them asking who he's there to visit, if he has a girlfriend or not.

All of them ooh and aah when he mentions your name, say something about being relieved she's found a man so handsome and that Rin should marry you because even though you're a little strange you're a good girl. Rin does not have the time nor energy to correct them - only nods and bows his head and leaves.

On the elevator ride up to your floor, he can't help but think repeatedly that this isn't the kind of place he'd expect you to live. He thought it'd be out in the middle of nowhere, maybe in a damp and broken building.

But this is a nice place with nice people, vibrant and colorful. Totally opposite from what he considers your personality.

Suitable or not, Rin manages to make it to your floor without a hitch.

He finds you, then, as he'd expect. Down a long hall, behind an unassuming white door. When you open it, you're a mess. Your hair completely unkempt, face greasy, a wild look in your eyes and complete surprise in your expression as if you didn't invite him over. You do, however, manage to invite him in without stuttering or stumbling over your words foolishly like you did the first time you spoke to him.

Another surprise is how... clean your living room is. It's lived in but he was expecting more mess in there. Your bedroom is in a similar state, undoubtedly messy but not terrible. Your NEET tendencies finally end up showing when you drag Rin into your office where you draw your manga.

It's not dirty but it's cluttered. There's a pull out sofa on one wall, with a blanket and pillow littered about and pages upon pages of paper sheets with scrapped panels about the floor. One wall has a bunch of post-its with several notes in both English and Japanese, and another has tacked up pieces of art. Both yours and other peoples. He chooses to ignore the ones of him and Isagi, The walls themselves are cream colored and uninteresting and the wood floors are slippery. At the far end of the room is a spread of desks, a PC set-up and a professional looking tablet among various art supplies in stacked boxes.

It's this room you bring Rin into without explaining yourself at all, mumbling and muttering as you give him a place to sit and go back to your work for fifteen silent minutes.

When you're finally finished doing whatever the fuck you were doing, you turn yourself back towards Rin. Bluelight glasses fall down the bridge of your nose as you swivel around in your chair - your sweatpants half pulled up your leg with the other pulled down. You're wearing fuzzy socks with Naruto characters on them.

You stare at him, pulling your glasses off and rubbing your eyes - dark circles under them.

"Uhm," Your voice is clipped and thick with exhaustion. "You came."

Rin deadpans. "You asked me to come."

"I thought you'd say no."

He did too. He doesn't respond back. You chew your lips, already anxious and Rin resists the urge to say something about it.

"Okay. Uhm. Please don't get mad," You start with and then explain, looking away. Your hands pull your sleeves over your palms. "So. Like. For my new series, I'm finally getting to the sex scene but I've never drawn characters with an intense height difference like this. And I need... new reference photos.... and uhm," You rub your feet together on your chair where you sit "Well our height differences and size is the exact one my characters have. So."

Rin stares at you. "So?"

"SoIwaswonderingifyou'dtakereferenceimagesforsexpositionswithme,"

Rin feels his jaw lock. "Slower."

You frown and look away, tucking your chin with embarrassment. "I was uhm, like, wondering if you'd take... take the uhm, sex position reference photos with me, please."

"What?"

You clasp your hands together, immediately prostrating yourself by throwing yourself down the ground. He flinches back, wondering if you're gonna hold onto his leg next.

"Please, please help me. You're the exact height of my seme and you uhm have similar builds and he's doing the most of the legwork. The poses are a little bit hard but I want them to look good or Minami-san will eat me and I'm scared of her, please help me."

"Who is Minami-san?"

You sniffle, on the verge of tears just thinking about it. "My editor. She used to be my fan. She's scary. Please, Rin-kun, please."

"What the hell did you do before?"

You frown at him, big wet puppy-dog eyes.

"It was hard. Sometimes I'd pose with my big stuffed animals and make up the proportions. Oh and usually watched porn and stuff. Sometimes I'd get lucky with stockphotos. But I don’t get the angle exactly right unless I have good references."

Rin wonders if anything you have ever said has processed in your mind before saying it. He doubts it for some reason.

"So," Rin pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes the image of you humping your stuffed animals out of his head. "You're asking me to.. pose with you?"

You nod and chew your lip. "Please, I promise I'd never ask you for this if I wasn't s-scared of Minami-san! Please?"

"I should make you pay me for this," He sneers. You flinch back and close your eyes.

"I'm sorry." You whine wetly, but then open your eyes again anyway. "Please help me."

Rin doesn't know why he helps you. Maybe you're just too pathetic for him to ignore. Maybe he's a masochist. Maybe inhaling the same air as Bachira last week turned him stupid.

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Fine."

If Rin didn't believe you before when you told him you make your own references, he'd definitely believe you after you take him to your bedroom.

Your bed is in the center of your room, instead of being pushed against a wall. Large stuffed animals laid in one corner. On both sides of the room, are makeshift digital camera stands and remote-controlled lighting among another remote for said cameras. There's about 4-6 angles from what you explained to Rin, and a few adjustable lights. It's an elaborate set-up and takes the kind of dedication Rin can only imagine a hardcore fujoshi freak like yourself thinking up.

All of this to mostly draw porn of him and his rival. He tries not to think about it too hard because he thinks it's going to give him an aneurysm. Rin sits at the edge of your bed as you adjust each of the cameras individually.

"What do you do if it's not on a bed?"

You flinch like you aren't expecting him to talk. "Uhm. I either simulate as best I can o-or move my things and bed around. It's why I moved my desk to my office."

Rin stares at you. "You take it seriously."

You nod meekly. "Producing high-quality doujin is what made me money, so I have to work hard. Being poor is tough."

If Rin didn't find you so unbearable he might find that awe-inspiring in his own fucked up way.

"Okay. Everything is set-up. Now for the poses," You say, suddenly sparking back to life. Rin sits and watches. "They're having sex on a public beach so the bed and the way the seme sort of sinks into the sand will be good... I think the bridge one is the one we'll do first."

"The bridge?"

You nod, talking in short sentences. But Rin can tell this is where you're comfortable, doing things for this... hobby. Your usual constant embarrassment and shame seem to disappear when it comes to it. It's fascinating like a car crash. "Uhm. You have to stand on your knees and then, I'll lay on my back and arch my back up to meet your... y'know. It'll emphasize the height difference."

Rin stares at you agape. You take the remote control for your cameras in your hands and look at him expectantly.

Rin doesn't know whats wrong with him. Why the hell did he agree to this?

"Do you want me to take my jacket off?"

You nod, surprised. He shrugs the thing off of his shoulders and tosses it onto the floor.

Rin, per your instruction, gets into the position in the middle of the bed. He stands on his knees waiting for you. You join him a minute after, squinting at your phone screen beforehand. He isn't sure what he's expecting as a result of your ask, but he sure is shocked when he finds you placing your feet flat on the bed next to his knees and pushing yourself up for your crotch to meet his.

He knows that’s what you said but your shamelessness proves to be… shocking.

He tries not to let it show. His jaw ticks. His face feels warm but his expression remains neutral all the same. You shift and adjust and don't seem concerned at all - like it doesn't occur to you that this is in any way socially unacceptable. Or it's unfathomable Rin would take advantage of this. That this is weird, or could be interpreted in less than innocent ways. Rin knows you're so out of touch that it probably isn't. That this is, to you, just considered a favor which is partially why he even agrees.

But you're mid-brushing up against his bulge. The angle of your back forms a triangle, your arms laid flat at your sides as you squirm and push. And your expression shifts, deep in thought.

"Uhm, like, would you mind p-putting your hands on my hips? Kind of squeezing tight like it's," You flush this time, but Rin harbors doubt it's about him. "Like it feels good I guess? Like hard, and stuff so you can see the indent."

He's so astonished, he does it on autopilot. Neutral and even. He lets his hands grab your hips and holds tight just as you ask. Your long, loose sweatshirt falls down revealing the soft skin of your tummy. He can see the tops of your underwear, the thin cotton kind that come in 6-packs with a single bow in the middle in a grey color.

You don't seem to care about it. Rin shouldn't either, but his body does seem to care. His brain does. Something is happening in his gut. Anger maybe. Some cheap, frustrated desire to make fun of you.

Instead the words he's been wanting to ask since you proposed this tumble out of his mouth. He stares at you.

"Is this the first time someone's done this with you?"

You jump with a start, but remain in position. You take the pictures first, six clicks in a row before answering.

"H-huh? Why-why are you asking that?"

He doesn't know. Really. And he knows how it sounds. Rin doesn't say anything and you fold under the immense pressure of his gaze.

"S-stop staring," You say, and take a few more pictures, lowering your back just a little but still staying up right. "And no. No one tall enough or with the right physique."

There is another gnawing question, another burning curiosity. He makes his voice as even and unaffected and apathetic as he can. As mean as possible.

"Have you ever even had sex?"

Your eyes blow wide, but you seem to fall for the persona of apathy, curious boredom and cruelty. Worse, you seem a little used to it. You squirm this time and Rin holds you firmly in place. Your voice is small.

"Uhm, like, once I guess. I-it was with a guy, I didn't really date him but he seemed interested in me and I didn't think I'd ever have the opportunity again s-so I did it and I didn't uhm, it wasn't very good or anything." You reply, and he can feel your toes curl in your socks next to him and his brain feels like it'll melt from out of his ears. "Sorry, I don't-don't think you care about that, just uhm, felt like I should explain."

"Yeah," Rin feels dizzy. "Do you need another pose?"

You blink and then nod. "Yeah! Another one kind of like this, but with the legs like uhm, on your chest and my feet closer to your head. With you leaned back a little. Does that make sense? The butterfly position, I think."

Rin swallows something at the back of throat.

He nods, pulling you into position so easily he can heard you gasp. Your legs straighten against his clothed chest, and your sweatshirt falls far enough to let him see your bra. A fabric sports kind, a little worn - just the logo visible. He doesn't say anything about it, your feet resting near his neck. You make a little soft noise.

"This feels a little difficult to be in. Poor uke. Sorry if this one is kind of weird, but can you put your hands, I dunno, on my ass, I guess? I know that's probably too much but I think it'll be a good detail, so please? I'll pay you"

Rin stares at you, teeth gritting so hard he feels the back of his skull throb. "Fine."

Rin, per your request, puts his hands on your ass. It's easy enough, and he doesn't hold too tight. But it's too intimate, too stupidly fucking intimate, and he can feel you. You're hardly paying attention, caught up in your own head with whatever else. Rin is paying too much attention. Like how your sweatpants aren't thick enough to cover the outline of your frumpy cotton panties and how your soft all over. He's going to kill someone. Maybe himself.

Six more clicks and a little noise of satisfaction.

"Okay!!! I think these will turn out so great, and I can use them later too. Just one more. I have a lot of refs for this position, but uhm - I want to see if I can get the proportions correct, so if you'd please lay down," You tell him with such genuine excitement he can't find it in himself to say anything horribly cruel. "I'll be doing most of the work this time. I just-just need to see how uke will compare..."

You mutter something to yourself as Rin lets you down and lays himself down on your bed. You sit next to him for a long while, squinting at your phone. Rin stares at you as you. Wonders if he's gone completely insane, and tries to ignore the doom of the impending hard-on cozying itself in his pants.

Unceremoniously, you find yourself perching over Rin's lap. Not bothering to give him any pretense, it's the one thing about today that's really getting him.

"Oh, I need my hands for this," You give him the remote and stare down at him wide-eyed, over his lap. This has to be hell. "Could you take the photos this time?"

He closes his eyes and counts to ten and wonders if a concussion has made him insane. "Hm."

You brighten and Rin feels his chest go tight. "Thanks!"

Rin just nods, his mouth drying as you start to move and pose. A picture with your hands next to his head, and anothe r where you're sat up - your hands at your sides. Rin obediently takes pictures when you ask, his entire body tensing every single time you move.

"Okay, last one," You say. This time, you put your hands on his chest. Just the one. You must have something specific in your head that you're wanting to recreate. You bend down close, looking down at him as you do - your other hand clenched.

Rin looks up at you. He should not be thinking about you in any way. He's looking at the way your lips curve and plump and at your bare skin and your dark circles and your stupid licensed anime hoodie. He just gapes at you in confusion and mystique. He's around so many weirdos. It's not like there's anything special about you. You’re just another freak who makes porn of him. Plenty of people do that.

A loser and an idiot with no sense of self-preservation. There's nothing special about this, but Rin hasn’t been able to convince himself of that.

You stare down at him.

"Take a picture?"

Rin looks at you. Studies your expression. You seem like you're thinking. It's the only oppurtunity he has to pry.

"Did you want to ask something?" He says first. “You’re not hard to read.”

You startle, then nod. Your hand is on his chest. It's warm, and smaller than his.

"Oh, I-I guess I was wondering about what you asked me earlier. And uhm, like, I don't know. If you ever did anything. Your relationships aren't in the media and fans speculate but," You fall flat on your words. "I guess I was just curious."

Rin hates this question. It's why he never answers it. Why he hates being called a hearthrob, always too shallow and too personal for his taste.

"Nothing long term or serious. It was most for physical relief." Rin says, almost on autopilot. “Not that’d you know what that’s like.”

Your eyes widen. Rin feels his hands twitch, watching your expression finally grown conscious of him. Lust spreads through you like honey and Rin can see it in how you look. You squirm in his lap. He's not usually so aggressive, not usually one to care about sex in any important way. Not one to brag about something so unbelievably inane and trivial.

But it's bothering him, just how much he's fighting the urge to pin you down and fuck you. You of all people. It's not like him. Rough sex is whatever, but it's bothering him how little any of it seems to register in your head anymore like it once did. You could barely breathe the first time you met.

He doesn't know why he cares that you don’t anymore. He doesn’t give a shit about anything related to you

But the thought nothing seems to bother you anymore bothers him.

"Oh... I see. That's uhm, interesting. I b-bet you have a lot more experience than me. Maybe it'd be a good thing to keep you around for that kind of refernce too," You joke.

Rin lets his hand slip up to your hips without asking, not bothering to hide it anymore. His head feels with nothing but stupid useless thoughts. Thoughts of fucking you in your old, worn clothes and stained shirts and comfortable cotton underwear. Thoughts of your hands clutching at his shoulder all weepy with desire and need and stupidity - your big wide eyes bleary and sensitive. It's cruel how relentlessly he thinks about taking advantage of all your differences. Of how unathletic and awkward and unused to everything you are.

It's horrible just how much he's staving off his own arousal about it. Maybe you're strange habits are infecting him, making him strange too strange. All Rin can think about uselessly is how easily he could put you in your place. Fix you in some strange way. You’d be his to fix and you’d cry and weep and want to run away. Rin wouldn’t let you, keep you pinned and caged like an animal.

His throat feels tight. What is fucking wrong with him today?

Is he that pent up? He stares at you, and gets some passing feeling that there is more to it than that. He closes his eyes.

"Whatever," He says, letting go. You don't seem to notice it again, how thick his voice is getting "Are you almost done?"

You nod and smile. "Yes. Thank you."

Rin feels his heart tug and seethes. “You're welcome."

#return to sender #writing tag #fujoverse #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #THIS IS KIND OF COOKING ME TO DEATRH IM?

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bunnys-kisses · 2 years

Text

baby trapping - (vol. 2) suguru geto & satoru gojo

rating: e (18+) reader: f summary: being in the presence of two of the most powerful sorcerers in japan and quite possibly the world left you feeling small. a small time curse wielder known mostly for using a small rapier full of cursed energy. you fought almost with a dance like stance, it was like watching a beautiful performance as you slashed your way to victory. to geto and gojo, you were their little doll. tags: baby trapping, smut, multiple sex scenes, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, dirty dirty stuff a/n: if have any other characters to add to the baby trapping collection, please check my pinned post and suggest your own! U・x・U

join my discord!

being in the presence of two of the most powerful sorcerers in japan and quite possibly the world left you feeling small. a small time curse wielder known mostly for using a small rapier full of cursed energy. you fought almost with a dance like stance, it was like watching a beautiful performance as you slashed your way to victory.

to geto and gojo, you were their little doll. a little ballerina in a jewellery box that did a small dance when you opened it. oh how they adored you, so small compared to them. geto once joked that handling you was like handling a sparrow, grab on a little too tight and he’ll break your delicate little wings.

and as much as you puffed out your chest telling them that you weren’t some weak little thing, you could never beat just one of them in a fight. you always ended up on your knees or on your back with one of your lovers over top of you, lavishly making out with you. the thrill of the fight causing tightness in their pants.

the three of you lived in a large home out in the country, as much as it annoyed you to be away from tokyo. but you found small pleasures in your large garden out back. you always wondered why the three of you needed so many bedrooms if the three of you slept in the main one.

“why not?” gojo asked as he cupped your face, smiling down at you, “guests, friends, family.” his smile grew. what was he talking about, none of you had family.

the snow was starting to come down in late november. the flurries stuck to the fallen leaves of the garden, that was when the sex got a little rougher. both had their sadistic streaks in them, as much as they showered you in affection they also used and abused your poor pussy. fingers, tongues, toys, and large cocks all found home in your wetness.

gojo had gone to the city which left you and geto alone. you whined that you wanted to protect the city but geto looked at you and implied that you didn’t want to spend time with him. and gave a soft frown.

“fine.” you said, “i’ll stay.” before you tightened the robe you wore and padded down to the kitchen to get some coffee. as you walked away you heard the two men murmur to each other, and felt their strong gaze on your back.

you watched the snowflakes fall as the coffee brewed. you heard gojo leave the house and soon geto was in the kitchen with you. his hand on your back as he leaned down to kiss you.

“staring at snowflakes, i see.” he said, his hand lingered down to your ass and gave it a good grope, “i was always more of a spring type of guy. renewal, life, birth.”

you snuggled up closer to him and leaned up for a kiss, “as much as I hate snow, i like when it’s all fallen and there’s that look of untouched snow.” you admitted, then letting out a small sound when his large hand squeezed your cheek.

just like you, geto thought. a virgin before the two men had their way with you that hot summer night after a round of drinking. in your small apartment, both men promising you to hide their little doll away. protecting you in their eyes.

geto flipped up the bottom of your robe and placed his large hand between your thighs, feeling your covered pussy. he smiled, eyes on the window as he continued to grope you.

“you know.” you said, looking to him, “if you want to have sex with me, suguru. ask me.” a smart woman you were, you’d make a fine mother by summer.

he huffed out a laugh and pulled you even closer to him, hand still on your ass, “well, will my fine love. my beloved, beautiful love. the most beautiful woman i have ever laid my eyes on, will she let me fuck her in our kitchen?” the corners of his mouth upturned.

you playfully shoved him, “okay, no need to over do it.” you undid the fasten of your robe and let it fall to the floor. there you stood in a sports bra and panties, a beautiful sight to your boyfriend.

he carefully pressed you up against the counter, face resting against the granite and your ass at perfect level for his cock. he pulled down your panties like he was unwrapping a christmas present and rubbed your ass before with his large hands spread your thighs.

“beautiful.” he dragged a finger across your pussy, feeling the wetness between your thighs. he brought the finger to his mouth and tasted your delightful wetness. “mmm.” he said, “perfect.”

“you better not cum in me as much last time, it got everywhere.” you remarked with your cheek against the counter and hands against the edge. you heard him chuckle behind you.

“i can’t help it, doll. you just bring something out in me.” he rubbed your lower back and smiled at your mostly nude form in front of him. he knew you were fine with both of them finishing inside of you.

you were on the pill for years now, but two months ago switched between gojo’s hand to geto’s then placed in the nightstand at your side of the bed. the sugar pills were good at faking as birth control, geto was surprised they even had the colouring of the pills right and the proper label on the box. he didn’t even want to know where gojo went to get this done.

it wasn’t like he was out of their little mission either, he wanted to see you round with his child as much as geto wanted to see you round with his. they wanted their little doll to be giving them children for a long time.

geto’s hand touched your stomach for a moment, open palm rubbing it which made you giggle a little. always the ticklish little thing. he placed one of his hands back on your hip as he pushed his cock inside of you, hearing the small groan and the tensing up of your pussy around his cock.

“relax, relax, baby girl.” he said softly, “it’s just me, you know this cock as well as you know your own body.” and groaned when you relaxed. he looked down at your body as he placed his other hand on your hip.

he started to push and pull against you, your noises were sweet and soft. it made him only harder. the prospect of you being with him and gojo forever because you’re having their babies made him aroused. the idea of breeding such a lovely sorcerer into a fine mother to create half a dozen even stronger curse users made him lick his lips.

you’d be theirs forever, out in the country. chasing around babies in diapers rather than curses. geto could almost imagine you waiting for them to come home with a nice round belly and a few young kids sporting either black or white hair.

geto was broken out of his train of thought when you started to moan his name and he picked up the pace. his grip tight on your hips, slamming his cock inside of you as he pushed deeper and deeper, he swore that his cock was bullying against your cervix. bruising it as a reminder of him.

yeah c’mon, mama, he thought to himself as he slammed himself further into you. feeling the slick wet sounds of your love making in the kitchen. the sound of the coffee machine went off.

“my coffee is going to get cold.” you whined.

“then cum faster and it’ll be lukewarm.” he panted as he started to go faster, moving your top half up and down the counter, the smell of sex and coffee wafted in the air. your noises got higher pitched, the noises of your body rubbing against the counter and slapping of bodies together.

“fucking beautiful.” he panted, “god you’re beautiful. that’s why gojo and i wanted you so badly. an angel come to earth just for us. you know we love you right?” he moaned as the curl of pleasure in his gut tightened.

“i know! i know you love me!” you whimpered as your legs shook from being up right and the crashing waves of pleasure beat down on you in a wet lust, your pussy slick allowing him to bully your deepest parts even harder. his grip tightened and you whined in lust at the pressure. even if they were rough when it came to sex, you took it like the champ you were.

geto’s pace remained brutal and every loud moan that left your lips was accompanied by a harsh groan from your lover. bodies hitting together in ecstasy as the two of you fucked like rabbits in your home.

“that’s it, doll. fuck, you’re so beautiful. god, you’re so tight. fuck.’ he cursed as he felt himself grow closer to his orgasm. and from the tight, wet heat engulfing his cock he knew you were getting close to.

you two continued to fuck in the kitchen, eventually geto having enough of the position and quickly pulling out and pulling you both down to the tiled floor where he sat you on his lap and started bouncing you on his cock lie a maniac.

your head thrown back as your hands reached for his shoulders as you bounced along, the position hitting even deeper. battering against your g-spot as your mouth hung open in a symphony of moans and whines.

“i love this.” you panted.

“and I love you.” he replied as he kissed your chest. his mouth found your nipple and started to suck on it as he continued to move you up and down. he found it cute that you tried to match his pace but failing to do so. don’t worry, let geto take care of it.

soon you were feeling the highs of pleasure, your rolled back along with your eyes as you remained almost like a perfect sex toy on his cock. letting his cock bruise and mix your insides up with every hard thrust. you moans filled the air as the air got hotter with your activities.

geto kept his eyes gazed up at you as he turned his attention to your other nipple, sucking and nipping on the skin. occasionally biting at the skin around it. leaving dark bruises that’ll last a few hours.

“beautiful, doll.” he growled as he panted against your sweaty flesh. with a few more hard thrusts up into you, you both came at the same time. the house echoed with the sound of your orgasmic moan.

he came as deep as he could inside of you and said a silent pray that it would take while you trembled like a leaf in post orgasmic bliss. he leaned his head down and softly kissed your stomach while you were riding out your high. he’ll take you every day if he had to until it took.

gojo got home mid afternoon, he found you and geto in bed. both naked after a few extra rounds in the softness of your king mattress. geto was awake and reading while you were fast asleep. cum and sweat drying on your naked body.

his hand in your hair, only pulling away to turn the page. his eyes met gojo’s when he entered the room. the dark haired man pulled off his blindfold, finally able to relax for the rest of the day.

the white haired man pulled off his shirt and changed into something more comfortable, grey sweats and fuzzy pink socks that you bought for him the last time you were in the city.

he went over to geto’s side of the bed and kissed him on the cheek before he reached out and brushed strands of hair out of your eyes. he could see the cum stain on the corner of your mouth. he said to the other man, “wrong hole.”

geto’s sharp eyes looked to the man, “i can’t have her catch on. the plan is to play it off like nothing has changed. if we keep filing her full of cum, she might notice.”

gojo chuckled quietly, “that means she has more than two brain cells to rub together. she still hasn’t caught on why we never bring her to tokyo anymore.”

geto’s gaze lingered to your sleeping form, “we didn’t keep her because she’s stupid you know. we could’ve brought any bimbo home with us if we flashed enough cash.”

“none of them were rapier wielders. we wanted a bride that would give us strong children. she’s strong, but a little dumb.” gojo corrected.

it took two extra days before gojo had a day off, and like a man with a mission he had ever intention of slicking your inside with cum. he wanted so much inside of you that a poke to your belly would make it gush out. he was gross like that. he wanted to know that every last drop was inside of you.

all the mini gojo’s were trying to fertilize those eggs of yours, if geto hadn’t already beaten him to it. but he wasn’t one to back down if the odds wee against him. so while you the three of you watched television, gojo rubbed your inner thigh.

he liked when you wore short shorts around the house, but with winter like a looming cloud, you opted for longer relaxing pants. the kind with the stretchy waist, the kind that were easier to get into.

your head rested on gojo’s shoulder as he slipped his hand into your pants. you let out a soft moan as his long fingers touched your clit. geto was on the other side of the couch fast asleep.

he played with your clit over your panties before he whispered, “why don’t you get on my cock. but be quiet, suguru needs his rest.” before he pressed down on your sensitive spot which made you squeak.

gojo loved the sight of you, so small next to him. a perfect woman for both him and geto. even if his lover had impregnated you already, he would just have his turn next. but he was certain that his swimmers were stronger than geto’s.

he couldn’t wait until your belly become round, your breasts tender and leaky and your growing reliance on the two men. waddling around the house, struggling to do things because you’re in such a fragile state. but don’t worry your little head, gojo and geto would take care of you.

after all, you were giving them the most precious gift of all.

he helped you get your sweatpants off, and smiled at the sweet pink panties you were wearing. he playfully ran his finger across your covered slit before with both hands he pulled the underwear down to your ankles, where you got them off onto the floor.

“oh my.” he said quietly, “so beautiful.” he could see your hard nipples through your thin t-shirt and pinched one which caused you to make a semi-loud noise which made him shush you.

slowly he got you onto his lap, and guided his cock through your wet folds, until you were seated on his cock. from his knowledge this was the second best position to breed someone. besides doggy, but he’ll get to that later.

you made a small noise and his large hand covered your mouth before he started to move his hips up inside of you. you tried to match his pace. unlike the coordinated movements of geto, gojo liked to throw you off with his thrusts. moving fast like a rabbit then slow down so you can feel every inch of his cock inside of you.

“i love you.” he said.

“i love you too.” your quiet voice muffled by his hand.

his pace was slow at first. rolling of his hips up inside of you. his cock prodding and poking your innards. nudging against your sweet spot that made feeble little noises exit your mouth.

“beautiful.” he admired as he watched your eyes glaze over in lust. he started to pick up the pace, the squeaking of the couch didn’t wake geto which only encouraged the white haired man to go faster.

geto let out a soft snore as you lifted your hips up and down on gojo’s cock. your hands on his shoulders for leverage as the dark haired man slept soundly beside the both of you.

gojo let go of your mouth and held onto your hips to get a better angle. your both bounced on the couch and you bit your bottom lip to be quiet before the white haired man left a searing kiss on your lips to keep you silent.no need for your needy, whorish noises to wake up the other man.

he had a mission to breed you, impregnate you. he often masturbated in the shower to the idea of you growing life. stoking your middle, being a good little wife to your two men. and becoming a protective mother for your children. you were the right woman for the role, no one else could have what you were getting.

for a moment gojo grabbed you by the middle and started to force you further onto his cock. his thumbs rubbed your side, his eyes gazed down at your middle. praying he was going to be the one to watch it stick out over time. watching your belly button pop and the smile when you felt a kick. not the mention your milky breasts. he was going to have his fair share once it came in.

he continued to fuck you, and quickly you had to cover your mouth with both hands as you came around his cock for the first time. making it more slick and easier to fuck you with. he chuckled quietly as when you pulled your hand away your mouth was hung open and saliva was collecting at the tip of your tongue, dripping down on your clothed breasts.

“that’s it, doll. feel it. like the feeling of my cock inside of you. yeah, i know you do.” his voices were harsh whispers as you continued to ride him you nodded as you breathing became heavy pants, your body moved on its own as you held onto him. the squeaking of the couch enthralled you as you bucked against him. your head felt fuzzy as you rode him.

you felt gojo’s gaze on you as your breasts jiggled in his face. he purred in delight like a cat that caught the canary. his hands went to your breasts and he added his own bites to the lingering ones that geto left.

“beautiful pair you have.” he remarked as he licked his top lip, “can’t get enough of you, doll.” deadly with a sword, but docile as a kitten in his lap. you were going to give him lovely babies. don’t worry, he’ll be your shadow if he has to. just don’t leave the house too often, him and geto will worry too much.

your movements continued until you were clutching onto him tightly, your face in his hair and your breasts in his face. he groaned at the feeling of softness against his cheeks.

your pants grew louder as you buckled your hips and slammed down on his cock. eyes rolled back as you covered your mouth again and orgasm with the same intensity as the first time. the clutch around gojo’s cock made fireworks go off in his brain.

oh, he thought, that felt good.

“i know you love me cock, i know it hits all the right places.” he purred a he watched you nod in orgasmic bliss. he knew how to pull your strings, it involved eight inches pushed inside of you. he might be a bit smaller than geto, but his thickness made up for that.

he watched your breasts bounced as you moved on your own accord, he sat back and let the wash of pleasure come over him before he was biting his lip trying to hold back a loud moan.

it wasn’t long before he was gripping his wrists behind his head, letting you ride him as he shot his seed inside of you. he bounced his hips up, pushing as far as it’ll go and praying the way that geto did that it took.

as he watched you slow down, he could see in your eyes that the wires in your brain weren’t crossing right in that moment. he smiled up at you, a glimmer in those blue eyes.

“ready for another round, doll?” he asked.

in your blissed out state, you did nothing with your tongue out but nod. gojo smirked to himself, you were a dumb whore. addicted to men stronger than you who will breed you like the good girl you were.

too good to be true.

geto’s eyes opened to the sight of gojo fucking you in front of the television. your figure illuminated by the brightness of the screen. he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and you looked at him with an embarrassed expression. (as if he didn’t fuck you in the kitchen only a few days ago).

he chuckled a little, “get a room you too. or at least, let me join.”

fo the rest of the afternoon a the snow piled outside your bedroom window, your body was shared between the two men. both driving their cocks deeper inside of you, in their own little competition to impregnate you without your knowledge.

by the time you passed out on the pillows with both men book ending you, their still hard cocks pressed against you soft form, you were finally and definitely pregnant. large hands rubbed circles on your back and stomach as you snoozed in bed.

you were bred, you were theirs. and there was no leaving.

it was now april, the snow had started to melt around the compound. gojo was sneaking through the house in search of his lovers. he could hear the thud of the bed near by but didn’t know which room they were in.

eventually he slid open one of the doors and found you and geto in bed. oh my, what a sight. a whorish sight to behold. there you were, working on geto’s cock with your hands on your swollen belly, breasts jiggling with the movement of your hips. geto was panting and you were letting out the sweetest moans. even at almost six months pregnant, you took their cocks like a champ and they adored their little pregnant doll in return.

“oh, suguru.” gojo said as he unzipped his pants, “you can’t keep hogging her, it’s not fair. i want to show my baby mama some love too. soon she’ll be too close to popping for us to have fun.” in his underwear he got on the bed behind you, both hands fondling your engorged tits. dribbles of pre-milk beaded at your dark nipples.

“don’t worry satoru. even if this baby is mine, we still have a whole house to fill with the best sorcerers in the world. all thanks to our little angel here.” he patted your baby bump before he leaned up and started to suck at your breasts, tongue tasting the creamy milk which made his cock twitch harder inside of you.

you let out a strong moan as you came for the second time with geto’s cock inside of you and the both men said in unison, “good girl.”

- xoxo, U・x・U

#getou suguru x you #getou suguru x y/n #geto x you #geto smut #geto x reader #gojo smut #gojou x reader #gojo x reader #satosugu x reader #satosugu smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #yandere gojo #yandere getou #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujustu kaisen smut #pregnant reader

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togglesbloggle · 11 months

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Why do you think tumblr will die in only a few years?

Answer with jargon: a strong correlation between recent economic shifts and chaotic choices by major tech companies is most easily explained if the 'traditional' social media platforms of 2005-2020 are mostly a zero-interest rate phenomenon.

Longer answer, with less jargon: Even though Musk's takeover is making all the headlines recently, the last year has in fact seen major shakeups at many social media platforms, so Twitter is actually part of a trend. Almost inevitably, these are cases of social media companies trying to find a way to squeeze more money out of their userbase (Reddit), cut costs dramatically (Twitter), or both. This marks a sudden departure from a much more relaxed attitude towards revenue in the Pictures Of Cats industry, where the focus was historically more on expanding the userbase to a global scale and then counting on world domination to sort of <????> and then the company would become profitable eventually.

We joke, correctly, that Tumblr has never been profitable. But the entire structure of ad-supported content curation between human users is deeply suspect as a business model; IIRC Twitter was never profitable either, and Facebook has been juicing its numbers in very shenanigany ways. Discord was actually making money on net last I checked, at least a bit, so they're not all completely in the hole. But even if you take the accounting figures at face value, none of these companies has anything like the amount of money that their cultural prominence would suggest. Instead, they're heavily fueled by investment dollars, money given by super-rich people and institutions in the expectation that fueling the growth of the company now will pay off with interest later.

So what changed?

I'm not an expert here, but I'll do my best to muddle through. The American Federal Reserve has one mandate that dominates all others (sometimes called the 'dual mandate'), and one primary tool that it uses to enforce that mandate. The goal is to maintain low (but nonzero) rates of inflation and unemployment, which in their models are deeply interlinked phenomena. The tool is 'rate hikes', or more specifically, tweaking the mandatory rate of interest that banks charge one another when making loans.

As a particular consequence of this, hiking the rate also means that bonds start paying out much better. When the rate hike goes through, that affects people who let the government borrow their personal cash- that is, people who buy bonds- as well as institutions like banks that lend to one another. A rate hike means that you, personally, can make a little extra money by letting the government borrow it for a while. The federal government of the US is a rock-solid low-risk choice for this kind of moneymaking scheme, so the federal interest rate sort of defines the 'number to beat'; to attract investors, a company has to give those investors money at a better percentage than whatever the feds are offering. Particularly since a company is a lot more likely to go out of business than the state!

To wrap this back around to the Pictures Of Cats industry: the higher the rate hike, the better your company needs to be doing (or the less risky it needs to be as an option) to attract big investment dollars. Very high rates make it very hard to convince people to invest in business activity rather than the government itself, and very low rates put moonshots and big dreams on the table, investment-wise, in a way that wouldn't otherwise be possible. Social media companies were one of these big dreams.

In the great financial crisis of 2008, the Fed took the dramatic step of reducing their rate to zero, trying to juice the economy back to life. And ever since then, they've kept it there. This has produced an unprecedented amount of funding for very crazy stuff; it's part of what has allowed so many weird new tech companies (Uber, streaming services, etc.) to get so much money, so quickly, and use that to grow to massive size without a clear model of how they're ever going to make money. This state of affairs kept going for quite a while, with no clear stopping point; that zero-interest environment has been one of the shadowy forces in the background that shaped fundamental contours and limits in how our Very Online World has grown and developed. Until COVID.

Or rather, the bounce back from COVID: we suddenly saw a massive spike in inflation and an incredibly strong labor market, as employees quit in record numbers, negotiated higher salaries, and found better work, and at the same time supply chain issues and other economy stuff caused prices to climb dramatically. Recall the Fed's 'dual mandate', to control the employment rate and inflation. This was, basically, kicking them right in the jooblies. They responded in kind, finally finally raising their rates for the first time in 15 years. For some of the people reading this, it'll be the first significant shift in their entire adult lives.

The goal, as I understand it, is to fight inflation by reducing the amount of outside investment into private companies, forcing them to hire fewer people and pay smaller salaries, ultimately drawing money out of the working economy and driving prices back down by lowering demand for everything. You get paid less, so you eat out less, and buy at cheaper restaurants when you do, so restaurants have to compete harder by lowering their prices; seems pretty dodgy to me as a theory, but it's the theory. And the first part will almost certainly work- companies are going to see less investment.

For social media companies that are still paying most of their salaries with investor dollars instead of revenues, this is especially catastrophic. Without outside investment, they're just a massive pile of expenses waiting to happen, huge yearly costs in developer salaries and server fees. This is why, all of a sudden, every social media company is suddenly making bonkers decisions. They're noticing that nobody wants to give them any more money! So they're trying to figure out how to live a lot more cheaply, to actually somehow for reals turn their giant userbases in to some kind of actual revenue stream, or both.

Tumblr is kind of the ur-example of this kind of thing, supporting a very large userbase with no coherent plan whatsoever to start paying its staff with our dollars instead of investors' dollars. When interest rates were low and Scrooge McDuck had nowhere else to hide his pile of gold coins, a crazy kid with a dream was the best alternative available to him. But now, unless something changes, he's going to notice he can just buy bonds instead, and that crazy kid can go take a hike.

That's why I think Tumblr is living on borrowed time, though I don't know how much. Like all cartoons, the economy doesn't really fall off a cliff until somebody looks down and notices they've been standing on thin air this whole time. But they always fall eventually; that's the gag.

#I am not an economics #so if somebody wants to grade my accuracy here #that would be welcome #this is the situation as I understand it but my models are hazy

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scribeofnight · 3 months

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⸝⸝ ꒰ 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔. 🫧ㆍ₊⊹

✦ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 ;; rafayel x afab!reader ✦ 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 ;; slightly suggestive, slight fluff - mostly brainrots ✦ 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌 ;; clothed grinding! slight making out! spoilers for + heavily based off of raf's myth! ambiguous ending! reader is in denial! reciprocated love! sadistic rafayel! slight demeaning / derogatory tone! mean rafayel! ✦ 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 ;; 2.9k ✦ 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖾'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 ;; my first ever proper rafayel fic. i really tried to write smut but i was and never will be one - for now, at least. it's been so long since i wrote something but, the rafayel girlies in the LADS official discord server and i were talking, and i just HAD to write this out, you know? i rushed this out in like 3 days in between classes and studying, so not my best work... t-t anyway! enjoy~

You supposed that it was a good thing - after all, the ocean was loved by you, as though it was real, and true. You imagined what it would be like, to be loved by the ocean (and you refuse to believe the image of him appearing in your mind as soon as you think it).

It was yet another sleepless night - you could tell. The sands from the bay billowed into the air, mingling into the ocean’s scent as though in a romantic waltz, the howling barely audible yet so loud to you. You did not know what to do; for you were never this sensitive to the ocean’s gaze and touch until before…him.

You swing your feet down to the carpeted floor, cashmere wool tickling your bare feet imperceptibly as you make your way towards the window, praying to the stars that the marble flooring beneath the carpet was not too cold. It had been chilly of late, more so with his absence, you realised. You try to push away these foreign feelings, dawning on you like a stormcloud, fogging over violent seas. It made sense not to indulge in them - a princess falling in love with a Lemurian? That would be unheard of (you dare not say you wished it was just).

Pulling open the door to the balcony carefully, so that it would not creak, you peeked out, finding dark clouds rapidly looming in the sky, a big mass of darkness. You sighed softly, dejection almost visible in your bodily language as your shoulders drooped lightly, a mirage of exhaustion creeping into your features. If Miss Natasha saw you as such, she would be berating you for your ‘unlady-like posture’. You could almost hear her, you realised, giggling to yourself quietly as you made your way back to your bed, the short distance from the balcony to your bed covered in a few mere strides.

Miss Natasha only meant well ever since she had found you unconscious near the ocean. Without a second doubt, she had taken you in and fed you, gave you shelter and some work to keep yourself occupied with - along with a name. She would press a warm towel to the red mark of a koi fish - that she found burnt just under your left breast, on your ribcage - whenever it burnt. You did not realise it before, but Miss Natasha knew what it was; and for your safety, she had to keep quiet.

You gingerly sat down on your bed, looking out the window through the fluttering gaps of the billowing curtains, the moon illuminating your room, bathing it in its romantic glow. You fiddled with your fingers, picking and pulling at the skin around your nails - one habit that always warranted you a harsh reprimanding and an earful, as well as a manicure from Miss Natasha.

A flash of purple caught your eyes as you spotted the fishtail beacon next to you - one that he had given.

You knew he always smelled like the ocean from the infrequent times that you both have met - sea salt, with a hint of lavender and burnt sugar. Oftentimes, you wished you could bottle it up and store it away. A little reminder of him, locked away in a part of your chambers for you to use whenever you missed him - which was often, but it is not like you would admit it out loud.

“Holding it like this, I’ll sense Your Highness’s presence.”

His voice echoed in your ears from that night; the warm timbre, that look he gave you when teaching you how to use it, the warmth from his hands as they enveloped yours… you shook your head to clear the thoughts. Hesitantly, you reached out to hold the fishtail beacon in your palm, tracing the detailed fins and tail, a smile worming its way to your face as you sighed softly. You could almost feel it - feel him - if you closed your eyes.

Thinking of, there are a lot of things you would not admit out loud - especially about him. You rubbed your eyes carefully, the revelation somehow exhausting you.

“Your Highness has been harassing my fishtail beacon for quite some time now. Did Your Highness wish to see me?”

Your head snapped up, all sense of weariness gone as you gaped at the purple clad man in front of you, leaning against the wall next to your window. You swallowed harshly at the realisation of how he looked like he belonged there, in your bedchambers, your head spinning.

You asked dumbly, despite you gripping the fishtail beacon tightly in your hands, your fingers still fiddling with its end. You pretended to not notice Rafayel’s full body shiver as you caressed the fishtail beacon, and you certainly did not notice his breath hitch, nor his voice get deeper.

“Rafayel, what are you doing here?”

“Imagine my surprise when I found Your Highness daydreaming while grasping my beacon as so. Tell me, Princess…”

“Your Highness is caressing my beacon so tenderly. I inferred that perhaps Your Highness was in danger and came rushing over, as a good companion would,”

Rafayel remarked smugly, his voice dripping with confidence, words rolling out like warm ocean waves under the glittering sun. He clicked off his mask, placing it on your bedside table before taking a seat next to you, gently pulling the beacon out of your hands, his voice taking on a raspier edge.

His face moved closer to yours, the fishtail beacon discarded somewhere in the folds of your satin sheets, his breath ghosting over your face lightly. You could feel his gaze weigh heavy on you, eyes glowing slightly in the dark as they bore into your eyes, his lips pulled up in a light smirk before he pulled away slightly, placing a few more inches of space between the two of you.

You cleared your throat carefully, reaching out to grasp the sleeve of Rafayel’s robe, tugging on it and pulling him closer to you as you stood up as well, guiding him to turn to face you.

“What is it that you were so preoccupied with while my beacon was in your hands? Was it perhaps… me?”

Rafayel murmured, his voice saturated with a lilt you could not quite identify before he cleared his throat, standing up quickly, his back to you as he sighed. His shoulders were drawn together, clearly tensed as he hunched into himself. You could hear him muttering illegibly to himself, only catching the words ‘shouldn’t have’ and ‘what was I thinking’.

You murmured, gently brushing his hair back. You watched his eyes widen in surprise before his body stiffened, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly, a light blush coating his cheeks at the proximity, his breathing slightly erratic.

“Rafayel.”

His voice broke off into a whimper as you tugged him closer, your fingers threading through the hair at his nape, effectively silencing him. You felt his arms gingerly rest on your waist, neither pushing nor pulling as you nudged your nose against his cheek, sighing quietly.

“Your Highness, I- I apologise; it seems as though the waves tonight are slightly uncontrollable tonight- i must retur-”

He parted his lips, his tongue darting out to wet them lightly as his eyes flickered from your lips and back to your eyes. He turned his face away, a hint of shyness evident as his crimson shaded ears made his feelings obvious, maybe perhaps his thoughts as well.

“Tell me what it is that you are thinking of, Rafayel.”

Your voice, albeit hushed, held a lot of power over him, you realised. You would not blame him - after all, if he spoke to you like this, you would react just as he is at the moment - trembling slightly beneath your touch, his breathing erratic as his ears burn red. His body was so warm, so warm that it burnt through your clothes, seeping into your skin and warming your bones.

He started quietly, inhaling sharply as you pressed closer, your head tucking into his neck as you sighed quietly. You could feel his pulse thrumming rapidly under your cheek - your only solace to find out it was just as fast, if not faster than your heartbeat. His grip on your waist seemed to tighten as he sighed audibly, gently pulling a few inches away from you.

“Your Highness- this is hardly appropriate-”

His voice resounded in the room, shaking you to your core despite the confusion. You blinked up at him, your arms still loosely wrapped around his neck, your lips parted in slight confusion. He stared down at you, a small smirk playing on his lips as he realised your innocence. Quickly clearing his throat, he ignored the burning of his ears, bending his knees slightly as his hands slid from your waist to the back of your thighs. Pressing a kiss right on your left rib cage, he tapped the back of your thighs gently once more, as you shivered while entrapped in his arms.

“Jump.”

With a soft, low chuckle, he guided you to a nearby wall, his breath fanning over your face carefully, barely breaking a sweat as he carried your weight. You stared up at him, taking in his features, getting drunk almost, as you counted the number of his beauty marks that you could see, swallowing the saliva that pooled in your mouth at the sight of him so close to you.

“Jump for me, princess.”

Unsure of what his intentions were, yet blinded by all you had, you followed his words, hopping carefully, yet hesitantly. In that moment, as you gasped, he gripped your thighs tightly, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, one hand sliding to the small of your back, pressing your upper body against his as his other hand held you up from under our thighs, his fingers brushing your butt lightly.

He murmured as he propped you against the wall, his head dipping down into your neck as he pressed a chaste kiss there, his hand sliding up from your back to your waist, his grip on your waist tightening as he shifted such that his knee was between your legs, digging into your skin deliciously.

“You’re staring, Your Highness,”

You sound so utterly wrecked, and nothing had happened at all. You felt his knee jerk slightly, pressing into your core once more, pulling a strangled moan out of your lips. Panicking, he quickly looked up at you, covering your mouth with his hands, his knee rocking back and forth as he watched your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Rafayel…”

He murmured, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he dipped his down towards your ear, nibbling your earlobe sensually, a soft groan escaping his lips as his hot breath fanned across your ear, shivering from the feel of how close he was to you.

“Quiet now, Your Highness. We can’t have everyone finding out how debauched and indecent the princess is when around her Lemurian companion, can we?”

He continued, pressing feverish kisses down your jaw and neck, gently biting down on your collarbone, licking the bite soothingly as he smirked at your muffled whimpers, his hand still firmly clamped over your lips. You had not registered that his knee had moved away from your core, and that he was grinding against you, his erection so prominent as it dug into your core through the layers of fabric, broken gasps and moans tumbling off your lips, barely muffled by Rafayel's slender fingers, his hand on your mouth pressing down further, fueling your pleasure as your eyes rolled back, the drag of his erection and both of your clothes so delicious.

“Unless you’re into that - then I’d be happy to oblige.”

“Awww...~ Awh, you're so adorable, princess... What, can't handle a bit of pain? Have I spoiled you too rotten, my dearest jewel? Maybe I should increase your pain tolerance. What do you say to that, Your Highness?”

“I have no problem in showing off what is rightfully mine.”

A jolt of electricity went through your spine as you heard his words, a gasp tumbling out your lips, barely muffled by the Lemurian’s slender hand. Your fingers once again threaded through his hair, tugging him up to meet your face as he rocked his body against you, soft moans and grunts falling from his red lips, as he brought a finger to the mark he had left on the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, pressing down on it slightly, watching you squirm as you try to shy away from the pain.

You groaned at his words, your toes curling as he seemed unaffected by the way you writhed under him, a small pout gracing your lips as your tongue darted out to wet your lips, tugging the purple-haired man closer. He could see the desperation in your eyes, and you were sure as hell that he could feel the damp stickiness between your thighs through your clothes. He watched patiently, a predator tracking its prey, watching a shaky exhale falling from your plush lips as his eyes darkened imperceptibly.

"Already so wrecked? You sound so debauched, Your Highness. Do you have no shame? Letting your Lemurian pet given to you as a gift have his way with you... I suppose I really should protect you, hm..?"

“Rafayel,”

Your voice sent a shiver down Rafayel’s spine as he grinded particularly roughly against you, his hips jerking violently into yours as you both moaned out in unison before Rafayel pushed you up further against the wall, clamping both hands down on your lips before shuddering once more, grinding into you slowly, carefully, his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip.

He groaned into your ear, his voice getting rougher as desire tinged his voice with saccharine, timber dripping with sugar-sweet honey a sharp contrast to the drunken lilt of pure heady, unadulterated pleasure seeping into both of your veins. The air was hot, so excruciatingly hot - so tense and you could not think of anything else except wanting to feel him deep, deep inside of you, quenching a never before known thirst that sparked and ebbed from your core, through your whole body, tingling with need, and want, and so much more that you just could not put into words.

Rafayel obliged, bending down and slotting your lips together in a frenzied, sloppy kiss. He panted against your lips, his body rocking into yours slightly rougher; more desperate, as he bit your lower lip, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he twirled it around your tongue, his hand moving to hike your nightgown up, both of your desperate, poorly muffled moans reverberating around the room and travelling between your lips, eyes squeezed shut and fingers tangled in hair and squeezing hips, squeezing so hard you were sure you could see faint red imprints tomorrow. You could feel his bulge rubbing onto your core deliciously, the friction and roughness making your toes curl as you moaned into the kiss, helplessly holding on to Rafayel as your nails dug into his shoulders, his clothes only getting in the way. The heady scent of lust and sweat clouded the room, creating a deliciously suffocating atmosphere that only fueled the need for him to be closer, closer, closer.

“Rafayel, please.”

You begged, your voice so broken, so utterly filthy sounding to Rafayel, and oh, did his head spin. Who was he if not a weak man to his princess’ desires?

He groaned in frustration, breaking the kiss, his eyes trailing a string of saliva that followed as he parted your lips gently, his tongue coming out to wet his lips - more so lick off the remnants of your kiss as he pressed his forehead against yours, pants leaving his mouth as your breaths intermingled, his hands carefully slipping out of your nightgown as he sets you down gently, still trapping you against the wall.

“I would love nothing more than to be yours for eternity, Your Highness.”

“Your Highness… are you…?”

His voice trailed off, filled with uncertainty and yet equal amount of desire as he looked at you, his eyes shimmering with want, ocean blue overshadowing the stiff peaks of pink dotting his irises, the mole on the left side of his nose very much distracting you. You gulped, feeling heat pool further to your core but you shook your head, cupping the taller’s cheeks gently and tugging him down, guiding his lips closer to yours.

“Would you let me have you for myself tonight, Your Quintessence?”

Rafayel froze, his body stiff against your tender hold, ensnared by your words as he gazed at you with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open, clearly not expecting his formal title to fall from your plush, red-bitten lips. You giggled softly, caressing his cheek gently and he gaped at you, admiration, awe and love swirling with the pure want in his eyes, concocting an addicting potion - befitting of a siren, you think, to cast a spell with just his eyes - before he surged forward, pressing a multitude of kisses across your face, suppressing his laugh as he swallowed harshly, audibly, your eyes trailing to his Adam’s apple as it bobbed with the gesture, quickly flicking back to his eyes as he flashed an impatient smile, his eyes storming over with clouds of desire, his grip on your waist tightening as he presses close, tilting his head such that his lips are brushing against yours, his canines catching on your earlobe.

♡₊˚ 🪼・ copyright @scribeofnight all rights reserved ;; do not copy, steal, plagarize, reword or repost to other platforms without proper permission || all credits to original owners and creators of the characters from the media + pictures that are not my own.

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milksuu · 7 months

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Hello! What do you think about a scenario where Aphelios and reader meet in OSU or another game?

Like reader creates maps and uses songs that aphelios actually likes and so he ends up being the player that she always sees on her stat map charts with almost always being top 1. And one of them gets curious so they reach out on the app/netsite and they get to know each other?? Like kinda how they met and how their relationship would evolve over time. I'm not good with words but yeah!

❥ prompt: You were a revered OSU! map creator. He was a map farming legend. Especially your maps. He was always at the top of the stat charts. Praised or scrutinized, he was the daily hot topic in the /osu subforums. His username was the only thing you knew about him : m00ncake. You had no idea he would end up being Aphelios from the band Heartsteel. That's until he showed up at your job by accident, and you connecting the dots. Oh, did you forget to mention you worked at a maid café? ❥ content/warnings: fluffy fluff, mild hurt/comfort, minor angst (?) ❥ characters/pairings: Heartsteel!aphelios / f!reader

This was it. Your magnum opus! Once your song map hit the platform, thousands of players immediately clicked to dominate it. It wasn't going to be easy for them. You'd taken special care of making it more challenging than your previous maps....especially for one certain player.

m00ncake had a history of over-taking any map within the first try. After every song, there he was: placed at number one. With astronomical stats that would take days of practice for any top streamer to compete with. It's what made the whole scene that much more competitive.

But every gamer had their weakness. And you made this map specifically to exploit m00ncake. You had analyzed his replays. Over and over again. In the darkness of your room, till the desktop screen stung your eyes dry.

He was exceptionally good with rhythm, timing, and anything technical. If you could throw him off, even a little, you'd consider that a flawless victory. This time around you would delay the kick sliders, just by a fraction, before the uptick. The rhythm theoretically the same, but the minuscule margin of delay would throw any muscle memory built up from your previous maps alone.

You waited with baited breath. m00ncake played and finished your map. The stats were posted. Yet again, he proved to be the legend he was considered to be. Despite your best efforts. With the numbers alone, there was no way another player could possibly over-take him.

A few moments later, you received a direct message:

m00ncake: nice song. also fun map. can i ask a question?

You heart thumped inside your chest. Gulping, you allowed your fingers to type back:

mcreader: oh, thanks! and sure, go ahead. m00ncake: did you purposefully slow down the kick slider at certain parts? if you did, it was actually pretty challenging for me. i'm usually on auto-pilot so that kind of threw me off. haha

After that message, your friendship blossomed. Frequently messaging each other on the platform, to then adding each other on Discord. Whenever you posted a new map, m00ncake would call you, and have you listen to his insane key-board clicking sounds. The most intense ASMR one could experience, really.

It was always great to get feedback from him after he would finish. Being the professional OSU! player that he was, it was nice to get insight on possible map formations, songs, to just general technical suggestions. To no surprise, you both enjoyed the same style of music. It explained why his play history consisted of mostly your maps. Even your least popular ones.

But he never spoke. Not even a whisper. And you never pressed it. If he was just generally shy with speaking, you could understand. You didn't mind doing all of the talking, and him replying with short text, emojies or tts.

mcreader: i found a great song for a new map. but i have work now, so i'll probably do it later tonight. maybe post it if im not too sleepy. m00ncake: sounds good. i'm excited to play it when it comes out. i'm usually up at night so if you need some company, let me know. have a good day at work. ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

mcreader: will do! and tysm! have a good day too! ttyl! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

You pressed your phone to your lips. m00ncake was always so sweet, supportive, and always a treat to talk to (Well, text to). You just wished you knew his name. Or anything more about him, really. He was always very secretive. It made you wonder why.

When you made it to work, you dressed and fitted into your maid outfit along with the rest of the girls coming in for shift. You heard giggles and whispers, "Hey, did you see that guy that's at that one table? He looks just like Aphelios from Heartsteel!" Another girl wiggled excitedly, nodding her head. "Totally. But it's so hard to tell. He's got his mask on and has his hoodie up. No, there's no way it's not him. As a die-hard fan, I can tell!"

"That's enough, girls." The manager clapped her hands at attention. "Everyone already has their table assignments. And there will be no switching. Whether we have a special customer or not, we always provide excellence in our service. Understood?"

After learning your table assignments, you were ready for your shift. And looked like you were assigned the very table everyone seemed to want. Whines erupted around you. "How come she get's to serve Apehlios? I bet she doesn't even know who Heartsteel is." The mass of complaints silenced as the manager clapped her hands once more.

They were right. You weren't too knowledgeable on the up and coming band. But if they were right, then that made you all the more nervous. It wasn't everyday you served someone of musical prestige. You usually served single college guys, the occasional cute couple, or a group of high-school girls on a fun after school date.

"Welcome back, Master! It's an honor to serve you again today." You sang your rehearsed spiel at the customers table. 'Masters' were always treated as if they had come home from a long journey. "I'm glad you're back safely. You must be tired after being away from home so very long. Please, let me recharge you by taking your food and drink order."

What on earth? You almost broke character. You watched as the young man had his phone out, playing OSU! in the most casual way imaginable. He rolled his blood-moon eyes to acknowledge you, expression veiled. He placed his phone on the table, but his fingers continued to tap his screen while he scanned the heart-shaped menu.

D-Did he memorize the whole song!? The whole scene was out of this world. So distracted by this detail, you almost didn't realize he was trying to communicate. You looked down. He pointed and tapped a finger at his order. A lavender latte and dessert combo.

"Wonderful choice, Master. I'll let the fairy's know right away. Your dessert and drink will be out shortly."

You scurried away with the order. When you returned with a tray, you sought to investigate your customer a little more. It was customary to draw art on the latte foam. You smiled sweetly, drawing the shape of a rabbit. "I'm so happy you returned home, Master. I was so worried because it had been so long. Once I heard you were coming back, I couldn't help but be excited for today. The day when we would finally see each other again."

Honestly, you were just trying to ramble and waste time. He never bothered reacting to your whole gimmick. That gave you security to scan your eyes over his phone screen. Your breath hitched. His username...his username...his username...

m00ncake

You practically squirted the whole bottle of chocolate sauce on the table. Recovering with an innocent laugh, and wiped the table dry, and ran away to take cover in the employee's only section. You pulled out your phone and opened Discord:

mcreader: hey! super weird question, but um, what're you doing rn??????? m00ncake: ...me? just out and about. having something to eat. why ( ° - °) ??????? mcreader: i was just wondering, and im sorry if this is random but...is....is your name aphelios by chance?

After pressing send, you peeked around the corner. You watched as the young man tapped on his phone. After a pause, his eyes snapped wide. Panicked, he looked around the space. As if trying to find a proper response to your question.

It is you, you pressed your lips firmly together. You went back to his table and took his wrist, encouraging him to follow you. "Oh! Master, let me guide you to the restroom." You announced loudly, leading him away. You dragged him into the dressing room. Since next shift wasn't for a few more hours, no one would bother walking in.

"m00ncake, Aphelios--whoever you are. What're you doing here?" How embarrassing. If you ever decided to meet in person, you didn't want it to be like this. With you and your silly frilly outfit and cringey maid character (even though you did enjoy it). But this was way over the top than you imagined!

Aphelio's backed up slowly against a locker. He didn't say a word. Blinking wildly at your question. You pulled out your phone, revealing your Discord and OSU! conversations with him.

"You see this? That's you! And now I know that it's you...you're m00ncake...and Aphelio's from Heartsteel...and I-I'm..."

Why? Why? Why? Why couldn't he have been anyone else than a supposed famous idol star? Why couldn't he have been some normal guy with an obsession with online rhythm games? Someone weirdly normal, like you.

So why....why did you have to like someone so out of your league?

Girlish talk and laughter bounced outside the changing room door. Fearing the worst, you dragged you and Aphelio's into your clothing locker. You made shushing gestures to your lips, which was ironic, since you knew at this point he never said a word.

A couple of girls walked in, laughing to one another. "Wow, I can't believe I lost one of my hair ties. Thanks for letting me borrow yours." The other then replied, "No problem! I always keep spares in my bag. Hey, look. Whose headphones are these?"

In the frantic mess of your actions, Aphelio's lost his headphones. The pair continued to laugh and talk, wondering exactly where the headset even came from. You shifted your gaze upwards. And your heart squeezed horribly inside your chest.

Aphelio's had his eyes half-lided, almost closed. Breathing laboriously through his mask. He looked as if he was in pain. Flinching whenever one of the girls giggled too loudly, or the other raised their voice in excitement. In the condensed space, he had no room to move his arms and cover his ears.

Your eyes widened at the realization. This...this is all my fault. Carefully, you squeezed your arms up, cupping his ears in your hands. In this angle, your cheek condensed into his chest. You felt the erratic thumping of his heart. Slowly, it settled to a steady rhythm. The heaves of his chest dissipating to normal breaths.

When the girls finally left, you uncovered his ears, both slipping out of the locker. You picked up his headphones, adjusting them against his ears. You then fitted the hoodie over his head, wearing a sad smile, "I'm so sorry. About all that. About everything, really. Can...can you forget about today? And don't worry about paying for your meal. I'll cover it."

You didn't let him type or gesture a single word to you. Resuming character, you escorted him out of the maid café, with a take-home box in hand for his troubles.

Your shift dragged on. You didn't bother sending any messages to m00ncake. Or actually, Apehlios, you should say. And no messages came from him, either. Good...it's better this way. The two of you living in two separate worlds.

When end of shift came, the sky had darkened. With your dress bag slung over your shoulder, you left the café. When you stepped onto the sidewalk, someone familiar stood at the side.

"A-Aphelios, why did you..." before you finished, he messaged you on Discord. You opened the message:

m00ncake: i didn't want to forget about today. in fact, do you want to ride the train together?

You paused. A smile then formed across your lips. With a nod, you placed yourself at his side. In a comfortable silence, the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder. Your phone buzzed. Another ping:

m00ncake: i shouldn't probably say this but, i actually have a thing for girls in maid outfits. you can shove me in a locker and call me master anytime. (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

You blushed furiously, grabbing his arm and shaking it with a whine. Thinking maybe, just maybe, two totally different notes could be part of the same song.

an: omfg what a cute idea this was! honestly, im not versed in rhythm games, but i tried my best. maybe i went overboard too. thanks so much for the request @timetoeatthebread-blog!

#heartsteel #heartsteel x reader #aphelios #aphelios x reader #league of legends #LoL #league imagines #x reader #reader insert #reqs open

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neriumxoleander · 3 months

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If you could explain, I'm only learning this now! What's going on with Gato? I've only seen vague posts but I know all social media is gone (because by god fucking twitter apparently) I've seen from the fake gatobob account post about recent events and I'm soo confused. Could you please shed some more light on this? If you are as clueless as I am, you don't need to respond. - @your-very-own-anon (mod speaking)

Sorry for the late response, I've been trying to retag some things while I'm focused on this account for once. I'll try to be brief? please don't take me as the authority on this, I just happened to get into the tags while it was unfolding earlier today. still going under a read more though. i suppose a tw for mentions of racism and xenophobia are warranted. And please do not interact if you are a minor or have no age listed on your blog, I will block you.

Gato deleted her social media accounts this morning (tumblr, twitter, pillowfort) and explained on patreon it was for her mental health and safety (which... safety? hm) and someone here immediately claimed the gatobob url. which happens, it's tumblr. but this person is using it basically as a callout center.

the callout seems to be about an incident that happened in the patreon exclusive discord server before it got shut down a couple months ago. tldr according to this person, someone (a mod?) made a racist comment towards someone, and gato apparently handled the situation poorly and neither her or the mods apology were really that great. I was in the server as a lurker more than anything, but I don't remember being there when this happened.

other people sending in asks to this new gatobob account have also been calling her out for xenophobia, but I have a feeling that's looking a little bit too much into statements she's made about her games being redistributed in Russia and Spain specifically if i recall correctly.

this new blog is demanding gato and the aforementioned mod properly apologize for their behaviour, but in my opinion, this is a really weird and bad way to go about it. Smart to use her url as a way to boost the problem, but... I haven't seen any solid evidence besides some very vague screenshots, none of them including the racist remarks (the screenshots they've posted so far definitely aren't good responses or apologies if they ARE linked to this incident, and it should have been taken seriously) And the victim from the racism incident is NOT the person running the new gatobob account, so it feels very weird to me that this person is taking it upon themselves to stir everyone up and demand things from gato and the mod.

as far as I can tell, gato hasn't said anything about this on patreon, although she's likely taking her separation from social media very seriously. If she is aware (and I'm sure she's getting plenty of DMs about this on patreon), she'll likely make a post there addressing it in the next couple days, but that's just speculation.

I'm keeping a mostly neutral stance in this whole thing, but I'm encouraging people to not interact with this new gatobob account. There's nothing we can really do; they aren't impersonating her, posting anything against ToS as far as Im aware, and people have been hoarding urls for years. Just... listen and learn, I think is all I can suggest. Form your own opinions, but don't go on a witch hunt about it, if that makes any sense.

I'll try to answer other questions, but I'm just one guy on the internet who doesn't usually get tangled with things like this. Please be patient.

#Talking to the River #TPoF #BtD #Gatobob #Boyfriend to Death #The Price of Flesh #I guess ill toss this into the tags again for the sake of spreading information. but once again I'm not saying i know everything #if i remembered something wrong or worded things in a bad light I'm sorry but I'm not great at public speaking at the best of times

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amitiagailec · 2 months

Text

Wowie what's this? Me active in Tumblr (and Discord again??)

I am still uncertain how I want to go with this but I am motivated by the idea of making an AU in CRK. Look if you want content you gotta make em yourself.

Not much is decided but here's the idea so far:

Fragment!AU. SM is named Ternate Milk Cookie/Fragment!SM

•Inspired from how a part of WL (or WL herself now) "survived"/stayed lingering despite DE, I just decided maybe the Beasts will have a manifestation of their own, be it just remnants/manifestations of them that continues to walk Earthbread despite their true selves being sealed.

Just as how the soul jams can kinda imitate and preserve the will of their holders it seemed, I think they'd be somewhat like that in that regard, in the middle of the Darkness and Light of the Virtues.

•TM Cookie as manifestation of SM is often at Ghost City and Blueberry Yogurt Academy, because of connection to his past, a continuation of what he started as the Virtue, and the source of power/dimension of this place.

•There's also SM's territory in Beast Yeast. But he doesn't always do so.

•This decreased after PV inherited the Light of Truth, but not completely.

•Every headmaster of the academy is aware of TM. From every predecessor to a new one he is to be regarded as a "guest" providing him things when he needed it, and only be cautious when he is displaying...tendencies. Every once in a while, some professors would find an unknown Cookie wandering the school and disappearing before they could find him. Most times they'd forget but the quiet rumor of a ghost lingers from time to time.

•Students when familiar are very much warned when they were found to have seen or interacted with him for there have been a few cases of...luring.

•Despite the wariness, TM still provides support every once in awhile. Correcting formulas for spells and potions by professors, returning books to the library when someone forgot and often arranging them, making suggestions to the headmasters themselves, and teaching young cookies when they passed by him. The last one be how he will bond with a certain Cookie.

•As a manifestation, TM cannot interact with anything in his surroundings unless he puts his effort into it, drawing from what energy and magic he can, another reason why the place is important. Appearing alone draws a lot from him if he were anywhere else.

•He can recall what knowledge he still has from before, but anything related to Beast Yeast, his comrades, and his own deeds are always blocked from his mind. Any trigger makes him uncomfortable. He'd eventually forget that happened.

•TM is still connected to his real self SM, who would often show when his attitude changes. Just another way of SM to interact and spectate outside of his prison, mostly showing when his expression darkens. What TM forgets, SM remembers very well.

#crk #cookie run #crk au #shadow milk cookie #fragment au #vanillaverse #except its just my SM for now #pv is in academy days or pre as well #what is this lore dump

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modelbus · 2 years

Text

Face ID

MCYT's included: (all CC!) Dream, Wilbur, Tommy, Sapnap, George, Ranboo

Having face ID in their phones

Dream

He actually suggested to you that you could be his alternate face ID, and you had thought he was joking. He wasn't.

He was really casual about it too.

You had grabbed his phone for something when he brought it up, so you did it immediately when he asked.

"If you want, you can put yourself as the alternate face ID. It'll save you time." "Are you sure?" "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

After that you definitely get asked to do stuff on his phone for him all the time. He's just a little lazy, okay?

More often than not you'd be the one replying to his messages for him, to the point where all his contacts recognized your different typing style.

Wilbur

He's just a little nervous to ask but does so anyways. When you say you'd be honored to be his alternate, he smiles so big.

"What do you think about being the alternate on my face ID? So you can unlock it?" "I'd be honored, Wil."

Unlike Dream he doesn't use you, but he's so bad at replying to messages that you do it for him (with permission).

You also fix his mess of a calendar, because come on.

His phone background was of you two always, but the photo changed, and you always loved to see the new one.

He 100% only changes it to watch your reaction though.

Tommy

You don't even know when your face was put into his phone, but you have a suspicion that he did it when you were sleeping once.

He asked you to do something on his phone for him quickly, hiding his evil grin, and waited for you to notice his home background.

"What the fuck is that?!" "That is the greatest thing ever created." "Is your background seriously sexy Shrek?!"

It turns into a game of his to have you open his phone only to reveal a new horror of a background.

Sometimes he will genuinely ask you to do something for him though, so you never quite know if he's trying to scare you or not.

As retribution you sometimes post tweets from his Twitter.

No matter how many times you remove yourself from his face ID as to end your suffering, you always end up on there again.

Sapnap

This man doesn't even give you a chance to say no. He's just instructing you to put your face in as his ID and leaving zero room for argument.

The sight you're greeted with fills you with absolute disgust though, so it quickly becomes a habit of yours to help him clean his phone.

Seriously, 23 mobile games?

"Do you even play Candy Crush?" "Candy what?" "...Right, deleting that one. What about Merge Mansion?"

He's another one you use your power to post tweets. They're mostly harmless jokes that the fanbase loves though.

Sapnap doesn't care what you do with his phone as long as you don't unpin Dream from his pinned messages. Apparently it's some sort of bromance thing.

George

Dream is the one who gives him the idea when the entire Dream Team is on a discord call. He was talking about how Sapnap is his alternate when George turns to you.

"You could be my alternate. I don't care."

It was so obvious he did care, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. In the end your face gets added.

He slowly starts asking you to do stuff for him when you're closer to his phone than he is until you're able to grab his phone and check the time without either of you batting an eye.

His phone is so sparse and neatly organized, but you kind of like it. Either way you still screenshot it and send them to yourself to post on Twitter later.

There is no touching his social medias, absolutely not. His phone is very important and private to him, so it's a big deal you have access to it in the first place.

Ranboo

War.

You both steal each other's phones and add yourselves just to have access for a social media prank war. His height definitely aids him which is very unfair.

After the war ends neither of you remove each other, so occasionally you post tweets just to watch the fandom explode, which you both find hilarious.

"Did you see what you tweeted last night?" "Did you see what you tweeted?" "...Uh oh."

Then there's the background war of which you compete to find each other the best background of each other you possibly can, which goes absolutely horribly.

If you aren't using each other's phones for war, you're really just checking the Dream SMP discord or something basic like that.

He feels too bad asking you to do stuff for him on his phone despite the fact that you assure him you don't care.

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nightingale-ghost-writer · 1 year

Text

Convallaria Majalis [Alex Keller x Fem!Reader]

Summary: Trusting people is hard, especially when they’ve let you down so horribly before. But you trust Kate, and Kate trusts Alex. And trusting Alex? Well that might just change your entire life.

Author’s Notes: I put a lot of thought and time into the title of this one, and finally settled on Convallaria Majalis- Lily of the Valley. In the language of flowers, they mean “the return of happiness”. The plants themselves have extensive underground root systems that spread quickly, unnoticed, and can easily overtake a large area and other plants with little to no indication it’s happening until it’s happened. That also happened with this story. What I’d planned on being a ~10K fic has become a whopping 19.2 words… I can’t say I’m sorry. I hope that theme carries through what I’ve written, and I hope all of you who read it enjoy the reading as much as I enjoyed the writing. Lastly, a big shout to @chaoskrakenuwu for proofreading this for me, and the whole Uselss discord for your anticipation and encouragement. Love you all. ❤️

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events from Modern Warfare

Warnings: language, canon-typical violence, suggestive content, drug usage, attempted date-rape (NOTHING graphic or explicit, implied more than stated)

It was a beautiful, sunny, colorful Virginia afternoon, just like every other you’d had so far this week. The weather was just warm enough to heat your skin in the sun, just cool enough to feel chilly in the shade. You’d brought a smart-looking blazer along that morning, just in case, but it was slung across your messenger bag, unneeded in the balmy weather. You’d stopped by your favorite coffee stand on your lunch break, let yourself be flirted with by the teenaged barista, and now walked briskly into Langley, swirling your iced espresso as you went. Your heels clicked on the tiled floor, echoing through the near-sterile hallway. You smiled and nodded at your colleagues as you went, stopping just short of the elevators when you heard your name.

You turned to see Kate Laswell half jogging down the hall to catch you up. “What are you working on right now?”

All traces of your smile dropped at her serious tone. “Coding. Why do you ask?”

“Hand it off, you’re coming with me. I need you on the ground.” She flashed you an apologetic look. “I need someone I can trust.”

Your spine straightened, field training falling over you like a sheet. “Yes ma’am.”

Kate had already hustled past you, but threw a smirk over her shoulder. “None of that ‘ma’am’ shit, Trip. You know my name.” She waved a hand over her head, calling back “Twenty minutes to brief!”

You didn’t bother answering her, punching the button for the fifteenth floor. You rolled your shoulders back, taking in a deep breath. You’d been off the field for nearly a year, after almost losing an arm in a firefight. Physical therapy had lasted for months, and trauma therapy for months after that. You’d been working out of the main Langley offices, mostly programming, while you healed. You couldn’t deny that you were itching to be back on the ground. But you hadn’t been expecting to be pulled by Kate Laswell of all people.

The elevator couldn’t move fast enough, your tapping foot the only evidence of your growing impatience. When you reached your floor, your director met you at the elevator.

“Kate find you yet?” You nodded. He grunted irritably. “Why on Earth she felt she needed you specifically is beyond me, but I wish she could’ve found someone else.” Harsh as he sounded, you took his words for what they were- disappointment at losing one of his best assets.

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll be back before you know it.” A look passed over his face that you couldn’t quite name. Wariness? Resignation?

After a moment, he shook his head. “I hope so,” he muttered. Then he turned his back to you, stalking down the hall to his office. Something about this whole thing seemed off, but you couldn’t focus on that right now. You watched him go for a moment before shrugging the whole odd encounter off and making a beeline for your desk.

There, you logged into your desktop to forward the files you’d been working on and to set an automatic response on your emails before pulling your locker out from its place beneath your desk. The tiny key felt both foreign and familiar as you turned it for the first time since your injury.

You took a deep breath, then swung open the locker. In it were all of the pieces of your old life, your real life; your tactical vest and black fatigues, a black bodysuit, wigs, changes of clothes, a duffle, and, nestled into the side pouch, your beloved Sig Sauer P228.

You yanked the duffel out and open, shoving most of the clothes into it along with your tac vest. Then you pulled out the black leather shoulder holster you’d worn every day for four years, stroking the pliable material fondly. You donned it, tightened the straps, and pulled your blazer over it before holstering your gun. You hefted your duffel and took one last look around the office, wondering absentmindedly when, if, you’d be back. Then you marched for the elevator, scanning your badge to access the basement level where Kate set up shop when she worked out of Langley.

Ten minutes ago, when you’d spoken with her, you didn’t have access. Now you did. She worked fast, you’d give her that.

The doors slid open, silent as ever, and you clicked into Kate’s lair.

The room was dark, cold, and quiet. Servers and bookshelves lined the walkway, directing you to a large table scattered with documents and folders. A single laptop cast a soft glow on the corkboard behind it. Just as you reached the table, a low voice startled you out of your focus.

“Who are you?” You whipped around, coming nose to… well, chin, with someone. You tilted your head, looking up to meet a pair of cold, grey-blue eyes. The man glaring down at you had a handsome, chiseled face, visible even under his overgrown goatee and beard. In the low light, you couldn’t quite tell what color his tousled hair was- blond, maybe? Or a light brown?

He shifted, leaning back on his heels and crossing his heavily tattooed arms across his broad chest as he towered over you. He tilted his head, sizing you up, just as you were him. He’d sure be pretty, if not for that scowl.

Before you could answer him, Kate’s voice cut in. “She’s your new partner, Alex. Introduce yourself, and play nice.”

Alex’s brows shot up, stance relaxing immediately. He looked back to you, curiosity replacing the mistrust in his eyes. You reached toward him and offered your name. When his hand clasped yours, it dwarfed you- his fingers nearly touched his palm.

“Alex Keller,” he replied. You could tell he was deliberately keeping a looser grip than he would normally use, and you squeezed hard once. That made him grin, and he tightened his grip incrementally before releasing you to turn toward Kate. “Now Kate, what’s all this about? You know I was this close to finding those guns.” He held his thumb and forefinger together in front of him, making Kate roll her eyes.

“Yes, well, Trip was busy too. But I have a delicate assignment and I need people I can trust.” She leveled you both with a look. “This is highly sensitive, top secret, all that bullshit. Do you both understand?”

You nodded, standing up straighter, and saw Alex do the same in your peripheral vision.

“Station Chief Harding has come under recent suspicion for drug trafficking.” You and Alex shared a startled glance. A CIA station chief? “We believe he’s using a club in Amsterdam as his cover. As I’m sure you both know, if Dutch officials were to find him in possession, it could jeopardize our operations there.”

“Ma’am, I don’t mean to question orders,” said Alex. He paused, only continuing when Kate nodded to him. “Shouldn’t the teams in Amsterdam be the ones looking into this?”

“No. I need people that Harding won’t recognize. I hand picked both of you for this one. I trust in your abilities to work without supervision, and to be discreet.” Kate held Alex’s gaze, nodding toward you. “And I’m trusting you to protect her.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Alex bend in your direction. He was still facing Kate, but he seemed to lean involuntarily toward you. Your own posture shifted, your hands coming up to rest on your elbows as you shuffled your feet.

“Protect me?”

When Kate looked toward you, she didn’t look happy. “You’re going in as one of the… workers at the club.” She paused, letting her words sink in. Your heartbeat slowed before kicking back into gear at twice the pace. Alex was watching you carefully, brow furrowed. He hadn’t put it together yet. But Kate had read the look on your face before you had even realized it was there. She reached out, laying one hand on your forearm and one on Alex’s bicep. “I wouldn’t send you in if I didn’t think you could do it. And Alex is the best man for this job. He will not let anything happen to you, okay?”

“Kate?” Alex’s open face had closed off somewhat, suspicion lacing his lips and his words. “What am I protecting her from? What’s going on?”

“I’m going in as a waitress in a strip club.” Kate shook her head, looking ready to protest. “Dance club. Whatever.” Alex’s head snapped in your direction, mouth falling open in silent protest. You spoke again before he could interject. “And you’re going to make sure Harding and his men don’t kill me if he finds out.”

There was an awful beat of silence before Alex wrenched his arm out from under from Kate’s touch, sputtering in indignance. “Now hold on-” he began. But you couldn’t hear him. A cacophonous tunnel of white noise had enveloped you while he argued with Kate; all you could hear were the voices of the last pair of agents who had been assigned guard duty for a mission like this, back when it had been a strip club.

“We could do better without her,”, “It’s not like she’s in any real danger,”, “You really expect us to babysit a girl in a strip club when we could be accomplishing something real?” You’d heard it all before, the night you’d returned to base with your arm limp and nearly detached at your side. Those two had blown into the back room, overconfident and uncaring. The target had pulled out a knife that “miraculously” made it past the club’s security and nearly cut your arm off before your partners killed him.

It hadn’t been Kate’s mission. When she’d found out, she’d summarily fired both of the agents and the special agent in charge. That knowledge did little to ease your anxiety. You trust her you told yourself.

You vaguely heard her, calmly explaining that Harding was well known for surrounding himself with scantily clad young women, both on and off duty. “It’s the easiest thing to exploit!” Everything sounded muffled, as though you were underwater.

“You can’t put her in a direct line of fire just because it’s easy! We have to figure something else out!” Alex’s roaring yanked you back to reality. You turned to look at him, then- to really look at him. His chest rose and fell quickly, eyes glinting and jaw set. One hand reached protectively out and back toward you. Somehow in the midst of the conversation, he’d angled himself between you and Kate. You wondered if he’d even noticed. And in that moment, that singular subconscious gesture, and his vehement opposition to the plan, you saw why Kate had chosen you both, why she felt confident enough to ask you to walk back into the fire. A seed burrowed under your skin, into your chest, latching onto the side of your heart.

Gently, you laid a hand on his shoulder. He seemed to unwind beneath your fingertips, tension sapping out of his muscles. He turned his head, pursing his lips as though about to speak. “I’ll do it,” you said. He froze, eyes scanning your features. Whatever he was looking for, he found. He nodded once, sharply, and lowered his hand as he turned away from you both.

“Fine.” There was a resignation in his voice that made your heart clench. Kate let out a silent sigh of relief, meeting your gaze. You nodded at her. She turned to the table behind her, picking up two case files and extending one to each of you.

“Your flight leaves in two hours.” With two quick “yes ma’am”s, you and Alex moved for the door. He darted forward, holding it open for you and not quite meeting your eyes. You murmured a quiet thanks and scurried through, turning to hold the elevator door open for him when you stepped in. He ducked his head in thanks, pressing the button for the ground floor and retreating to the far side of the elevator.

Neither of you spoke a word, not even looking at each other until the door opened and he waved a hand for you to go first. You did, exchanging small smiles, and then went your separate ways. You turned as you reached the front doors, catching just a glimpse of his puzzled face as he examined you from the garage before disappearing into it.

There was a certain disappointment in leaving behind your duffel. You laid it reverently on the shelf in your closet, stroking the side of it and tucking your handgun back inside. You felt vulnerable, leaving it all at home. But there was no place for anything in it on this mission.

In the two hours you’d been given, you managed to walk home and pack a different suitcase with a wide variety of clothes, get a cab, and make it through airport security. You arrived at the gate just as they announced early boarding, catching a glimpse of a tall head of ashy hair stepping through the bridge. You walked to the counter, scanned your ticket, and smiled at the girl who thanked you for your service. You kept your eyes down as you walked, shuffling through the narrow space. You only raised them when someone stood from their seat, dark boots blocking your way.

You’d changed into sneakers and without your heels, your eyes barely came to Alex’s shoulders. He smiled lopsidedly, offering you a hand. “Take your bag?” he asked. His voice was low and smooth, just a hint of gravel in it. You unslung your backpack, handing it to him with a grateful smile. He reached up to stow it in the overhead compartment and your eyes fixed on the rippling muscles of his arms. Pretty, indeed. “You can take the window seat if you want,” he said.

You slid between his lithe body and the seat, not giving him any opportunity to rescind his offer. He chuckled as he lowered himself into the aisle seat, giving you an amused look.

You shrugged. “You offered.”

“I did.” His eyes sparkled as he quickly looked you up and down. You allowed yourself a glance over him, as well. In the brightly lit airplane, you could see him much more clearly. His hair was an ashy brown, just as mussed as when you’d first seen him, with a wavy pair of cuts in the side you weren’t sure were intentional. His skin was tan, even under the line work covering his arms from the wrists up, and his face was lightly freckled. And his eyes, locked on you, were the stormy, slate grey of the roiling ocean, just a hint of blue in their depths.

You’d also looked him up, in your brief trip home.

His entire file had been redacted. So, you dug deeper as quickly as you could to find his file from before. Most of that file had been redacted, too. There had been single visible words scattered throughout the pages you skimmed. Efficient. Intentional. Empathetic. Cautious. And beneath his file photo, taken with the same ridiculous houndstooth scarf he’d worn both when you met him and now, a lone, lonely squad designation. Delta.

You blinked back to the present, zeroing in on his raised eyebrows. You blushed, having been caught staring, and turned to face the window. “So how long have you been doing this?” you asked. Alex took so long to answer that you looked up, only to find him turning his head away. Almost as though he’d been staring, too.

He cleared his throat. “‘Bout ten years now. What about you?”

“Depends.” He cocked his head, studying you. “I worked in the field for four years before they made me a desk jockey. And I was in the Navy for a couple of years before that.”

A look of pride crossed Alex’s face. “No kidding. Army. Six years.”

You smiled wide, turning to better face him in the narrow seat. “I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine.

A quiet dinging noise roused you from your dozing. You shuffled a bit, turning into your pillow, until it moved.

Your eyes flew open, head snapping up.

Your cheeks burned when you realized you must have fallen asleep on Alex’s shoulder. You’d both talked about your time with the military, being snatched up by the CIA, and what you did now- all in hushed tones, of course. You’d leaned together, foreheads nearly touching, and whispered stories to each other for several hours until you’d convinced him to try to sleep. He’d spent the last 24 hours flying to DC from the Middle East, and now he was back on a plane to Europe.

You registered mild surprise that you’d fallen asleep, yourself. You’d been tired, but sleeping on planes had never come easy to you. Not to mention your trust issues. You seldom so much as rested your eyes around new people.

He was still sleeping now, head angled toward you and arms crossed over his chest. The dark circles you’d noticed under his eyes hadn’t lightened yet, but you knew they would take time to fade. His chest rose and fell slowly, lips twitching slightly under the curled ends of his comically large mustache. You heaved a sigh, looking up to see what had woken you. As you did, the pilot announced your descent into Amsterdam. The glowing seatbelt sign accounted for the sound you’d heard. You fastened your seatbelt, then glanced at Alex’s lap, hoping his would be on, too.

It wasn’t.

Gingerly, you reached around him, lifting the fallen belt from the side of his seat. Just as you clicked the two pieces into place, Alex’s hands shot out and gripped your wrists like vices. You froze, looking up at him as he stared through you in a haze. His eyes darted across your face before he seemed to recognize his surroundings, recognize you, and his hold loosened.

His eyes flicked down to his hands on you and he recoiled, horror sweeping over his handsome face. “‘M sorry,” he breathed. He sat up straight, wriggling away from you, hands suspended halfway between you both where they seemed to reach for you, but clasped nothing. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. Panic laced his voice in equal parts with the rasp of sleep, and his eyes flew over your arms as though he didn’t believe you. Cautiously, you reached for him, laying a hand on his forearm. You lowered your head, barely succeeding in catching his frantic gaze. “You didn’t hurt me.” He swallowed hard, nodded, and scrubbed his hands down his face slowly.

“We’re landing?” he asked.

“Mhmm.” You turned your back, leaning toward the window to give Alex a moment to collect himself. It didn’t take long for him to lean forward in an attempt to see around you. You glanced at him, offering a smile that he returned tiredly. “I always love looking at the lights. They’re so pretty.”

He said nothing, but you could feel his stare heavy on your face. You said nothing else to each other as the plane landed. Alex stood as soon as the seatbelt light flashed off, reaching up to pull down his duffel and your backpack. Rather than hand it to you, though, he slung it over his own shoulder, holding a hand out to gesture you forward.

“After you,” he said.

You arched an eyebrow as you passed. “Such a gentleman.” The only response you got to that was a low chuckle.

You were able to get your bags, a cab, and to the safehouse within the next hour, punching in the door code and flipping on the lights. The house was narrow, but far deeper than you’d expected. The kitchen was stocked with various MREs and canned goods, a large office tucked behind it. When you both trudged up the stairs, you found a library and a fully stocked weapons room.

You squealed about the Dutch classics you found, while Alex lamented his general illiteracy of the language. When you offered to read to him, he gave you the softest look you thought you might have ever seen. You moved to the weapons room, taking your time admiring the stash, murmuring to each other about your favorite guns and attachments, before moving up to the third story in search of bedrooms. There were two, side by side with a bathroom and tiny loft on the other side of the long hall.

“I’ll take this one,” said Alex, moving to the first door. He shrugged at your curious look. “Closer to the stairs.”

You gawked, moved by his thoughtfulness. That seed burst, spreading roots in your veins and the cavity between your ribs. Alex shifted uncomfortably under your stare, mumbling that you could have that room if you really wanted it. You shook your head.

“I see why Laswell likes you,” you said. A brief shock flashed in his eyes before he carefully schooled his face, shrugging again.

“I like to think I’m alright,” he quipped.

Acting on a rush of boldness you’d later explain away as getting into character, you deliberately looked him up and down, basking in the blush you could see rising on his cheeks. “More than alright.”

You sauntered into your room, withholding a giggle at the choked noise Alex made as you went.

“You go ahead and shower. I’ll get started on our case file,” you called. If Alex answered, you didn’t hear. But when you finished unpacking and walked into the hall, the shower was running and the bathroom door was shut.

You walked downstairs, pausing in the kitchen and debating on dinner. You weren’t really hungry, but was Alex? You’d find out when he came down. You stepped into the office, planting yourself in the desk chair and booting up the computer. Once you had it open, you considered trying to dig a little deeper into your teammate. You strained your ears; you could still hear the water running. You had at least a couple of minutes, more time than you’d need.

But something stopped you. You weren’t sure if it was a sense of owing him, or general guilt for snooping. Or maybe the hope that he’d tell you himself, someday. Either way, you opted to open the encrypted files Kate had sent instead. You were scanning everything she had on Harding when you heard Alex come down the stairs. For such a large man, he walked remarkably quietly. However, the floorboards’ soft squeaking gave him away as he stepped into the doorway.

“Looks like the club manager is one of Kate’s contacts,” you mumbled. Your chin rested in your hand, muffling your speech. “Though how, I’m not-” You turned then and promptly lost your train of thought.

Alex stood in the doorway in a grey t-shirt and a dark pair of sweats, barefoot and still damp. His hair shone, sticking up at odd angles, and the t-shirt stuck to his sculpted chest in all the most delicious places. If he noticed that you hadn’t finished your sentence, he gave no indication. He was squinting at the computer screen, leaned slightly forward.

“Hmm, seems like your run of the mill manager at least.” You were grateful that he didn’t seem to notice your fixation on his muscles, his own eyes fixed on the screen. He’d taken the few steps into the office in order to lean over your shoulder, one hand resting on the desk. You could feel the heat radiating from his chest to your back, and you took a shaky breath. You watched him scan the file out of the corner of your eye, then a grimace crossed his face. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, and you felt suddenly freezing from the loss.

“You sure you’re okay with this?”

You turned the chair, pulling your feet up and wrapping your arms around your knees. Alex was studying you, scowling as he did. He seemed to zero in on the scars beneath the sleeve of your t-shirt. You pulled on it reflexively, regardless of the fact that the sleeve wouldn’t cover anything, and watched as a guilty look crossed his face.

“I’m okay with it.”

“What happened to your arm?”

“The last guys who ran an op like this with me didn’t take it as seriously as you seem to.” Alex flinched, arms falling to his sides. His expressive eyebrows shot up, then lowered again. That adorable little furrow between them surfaced while his lips worked silently, seeming not to find the words he wanted. “I got caught because they didn’t stick to the plan. They thought they knew better. I nearly had my arm cut off.” You lifted it, showing him the straight, vertical incision scar that ran from elbow to bicep from the surgery to repair the breaks in the bone. A patch of raised, much more ragged scarring ran horizontally on the outside where the knife had torn through your flesh.

Alex’s expression was pained as he examined it, eyes finally lifting to yours. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” His voice was low and determined. He was still frowning, but there was a softness to it. “Okay?”

You nodded, lowering your arm to wrap around your legs again. “Okay.” You watched each other for a long time, tilting heads one way and the other as you took each other in. Finally, Alex cocked his head over his shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s get something to eat.”

You were woken the next morning by a gentle rapping on your door. When you opened it, bleary-eyed and somewhat unsteady, you found an equally groggy Alex on the other side.

“‘M gonna take a run, wanna come with?”

You nodded, yawning. “Give me five?”

He nodded, shuffling to the loft and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

You brushed your teeth and picked up a light sweater, pulling a baseball cap over your hair, and slouched into the hall. There was a murmured agreement to find coffee as you locked the safehouse, and then you were off.

The run was mostly quiet, silence broken only by the sounds of your breaths in the crisp morning air and birds twittering from the tree lines. It was comfortable. By the time you found a nice coffeehouse, taking cups out to sit at a little table on the sidewalk, you both seemed to have woken up.

“I was thinking,” began Alex.

“Sounds dangerous,” you quipped. His answering playful glare made your heart skip a beat.

“How early do you have to get to the club?” he asked.

“Eight o’clock.” When you’d opened the wardrobe in your room the night before, you’d found several “uniforms”, complete with weaponized jewelry and heels, and a slip of paper with a time and door codes. You’d glared at the outfits, hummed appreciatively at the cleverly hidden blades and USB drive, and memorized the door codes before tearing up the paper and flushing it down the toilet.

Alex hesitated. He watched his coffee as he swirled it slowly.

“You need to show up separately from me,” you said. He breathed out, nodding. “I’ll be fine.”

He looked up, unconvinced. “I have done this before, you know,” you teased. His gaze flicked quickly to and from your arm as he forced a smile.

“I know. I just don’t like the idea of letting you out of my sight.”

Your heart warmed at that, and you reached out to lay your hand on his. “It’ll be okay.”

There was some more quiet discussion about how you’d both get in and what exactly you had planned once you infiltrated Harding’s space, and then it was back to the safehouse. You both poured over all of the files Kate had sent, studying the blueprints and quizzing each other on them, and then walked to the market for lunch.

You’d found familiar foods- potatoes, hearty vegetables, and a roast small enough for two- and made your way back to the safehouse to cook. Alex had cut the vegetables while you’d seasoned the roast, finally putting it all together in a large pyrex pan to bake. As you straightened up from closing the oven, Alex asked “So how’d you get your name? ‘Trip’?”

And as though the fates had written it, you’d turned to answer him only to slip on the water you’d dripped just before when you’d washed your hands. Your arms windmilled out as you tilted backward. Before you could fall, Alex’s strong hands gripped you, one wrapping around your waist and one sliding up your spine to rest on the back of your head. He’d leapt forward, feet planted firmly on either side of you as he pulled you forward. When your chest bumped his, you looked up at him breathlessly. He hadn’t let go of you yet.

“Pretty much just like that.”

He barked a laugh, releasing his hold on you almost reluctantly. “Just like that?” “Well, no. I fell the first time.” He laughed again while you regaled him with tales of your legendary clumsiness, embellishing anything you could to make the stories even funnier than they already were.

You retreated to the library, making good on your promise to read the Dutch classics aloud as Alex listened with rapt attention. After several chapters, you paused and turned to him. He’d stretched out along the coach by the window, head pillowed on his arm. The midday sun filtered through the warped panes, casting him in a soft glow that turned his hair to honey and his eyes to the clear blue of a still lake. His eyes were fixed on you. They had been since you’d started reading and, even as the sunlight and his exhausted body tried to pull him away to sleep, they kept him tethered to wakefulness.

“Do you understand any of what I’m reading?”

“Not a word.” Your giggle made him smile.

“Why don’t you take a nap? I’ll wake you when the food’s done.” When he looked like he might protest, you tilted your head at him. “Can you honestly tell me jet lag isn’t kicking your ass right now?”

“No,” he grumbled, relenting and turning onto his back. He raised his free arm, draping it across his eyes. “What about you?”

“I’m not tired. I’m going to read.” He lowered his arm, just a bit, giving you a sidelong glance. “I haven’t flown halfway around the world and back this week,” you singsonged. Alex grunted before lowering his arm across his eyes again.

“Just… don’t let me sleep too long,” he murmured. You hummed in acknowledgement, turning your attention back to your book. You read for some time before standing, stretching, and padding up the stairs to the bathroom. You had just enough time to do your makeup before the timer in the kitchen pinged. When you peeked into the library, Alex had turned in his sleep to face the doorway. The arm that had lay across his eyes now draped across his body, nearly hanging over the side of the couch.

You called his name softly. He stirred, but didn’t open his eyes. You called him again, and he turned his face.

“Alex.” The third time you called him, his eyes snapped open. He turned his head, eyebrows raising as he took in your heavy makeup. You’d lined your eyes with black kohl, brushed on a smoky eye and three layers of mascara, and filled in your brows. You were sure you looked like a different person altogether.

He sat up, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You look great,” he rasped.

“Thanks. Dinner’s ready, you coming down?” He nodded, stretching and yawning.

“Be right there.”

You walked downstairs and were halfway through plating the food when Alex shuffled into the kitchen. You handed him a plate and gestured toward the small table in the corner. The calm quiet of the afternoon had turned foreboding and you both ate in silence. Alex offered to clean up when you were done, so you went back upstairs to get dressed. You felt tense as you did, apprehension tightening your muscles and lungs.

The “uniform” was a black fishnet body suit, skin-tight black minidress, and a pair of pumps with a two-inch platform and a six-inch heel. The only part you didn’t mind was the jewelry- a glittering silver spiked necklace and matching bracelet that you could pull pins out of as weapons if you needed to. The finishing touch was a silver ring housing a miniscule USB drive that you’d programmed yourself; once plugged in, it would copy an entire hard drive in less than five minutes. You were proud of that one.

You pulled it all on, glared at your reflection in the mirror, and applied a coat of cherry red lipstick before stalking out of your room and down the stairs. Alex stood in the entryway, fastening cufflinks in a smart black button down.

It would seem that the man’s back side was just as attractive as his front.

As he heard you come down, he looked up, body going completely still as he looked you slowly head to toe. You felt suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny. The dress sported a plunging neckline, putting your cleavage on full display, and barely covered your ass. You were grateful that the fishnet bodysuit was solid black around your hips, offering you some tiny slip of modesty.

Alex looked incredibly handsome, himself. He wore a fitted black shirt, complete with a matching tie and vest. It all strained across the hard muscles of his upper body, matching the black slacks that hugged his thighs and a rounded, firm-looking ass. The jacket hung on a peg by the door, ready for him at a moment’s notice. His unruly hair looked as though he might have tried to style it, but it had sprung back to its tousled state of being. His mustache, however, had been waxed into perfect curls at the ends.

He swallowed, hard, and let out a low whistle. His pupils had blown wide, nearly eclipsing the darkened blue of his irises. “You look…” He gestured up and down, clearly coming up empty on compliments.

“Like a cheap whore?”

“No,” he snapped. His lip twitched, mustache trembling with the movement. He reached a hand forward, which you took gratefully as you descended the final few steps. The outrageous heels brought you nearly eye to eye with him, though still not quite. He looked directly at you. “You look stunning. Harding’s a madman if he doesn’t want you as soon as he lays eyes on you.”

The statement sent a shiver through you. It simultaneously ignited a fire low in your belly and a chill at the base of your spine. Alex felt it, and squeezed your hand. “But he can’t have you,” he said lowly. “I won’t let him touch you.” You offered him a shaky smile, trying to control your breathing. You considered asking whether that meant he was a madman, or that he wanted you. But there was no need for that. The heat from that particular question would keep you warm all night.

“So,” you started instead. “I look like an overpriced whore, then?”

Alex groaned, rolling his eyes and shaking you gently. “No, you do not look like a… a…” The blush that flamed up over his cheeks was so endearing that you couldn’t help reaching out to touch his cheek as you chuckled. “You just look gorgeous,” he said softly. The roots between your ribs spread out, twining more tightly into your bones and reaching toward the flesh of your chest.

You smiled. “Thank you.” Your smile faltered as you reached forward, straightening his perfectly straight collar nervously. “You sure you’re going to be able to do this?”

Alex blinked in surprise. “Me? Shouldn’t I be asking you?”

You shook your head, still looking down. “No, you. I know you don’t like the plan, but… it’s a good plan. Are you going to be able to go along with it?” Alex made a confused sound. You looked up at him. “Are you going to be able to you fit in with the men there? Act like you own me, if I need you to get me out?”

Anger churned in his eyes at that. “If it’s going to keep you safe, then… yes.”

“It will,” you whispered.

As you dropped your hands, Alex’s surged up to clasp them. “Just… so long as you know that… that’s not me.”

“I know,” you said, and you were startled by how much you meant it. A sharp honk let you know that your taxi had arrived. You squeezed his hands. “I’ll see you soon?”

“One more thing.” Alex turned to the side table in the entryway, sliding open the drawer and pulling out what looked like a glittering, silver spiked ear cuff. He turned it so that you could see a cleverly concealed earpiece on the back side. He reached up, hesitating with his hands near your ear as though asking permission. You didn’t move and, ever so gently, he reached up and brushed a lock of hair away from your ear. He fiddled with the cuff until the earpiece sat just behind your earlobe. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” Your throat felt suddenly dry, voice coming out in a whisper. He was close enough to touch, close enough to kiss if you wanted to. And you wanted to. But you pulled back, smiling a fake-bright smile, and backed toward the door. “I’ll see you soon!”

Alex leapt forward, opening the door for you. “See you soon,” he echoed. You made your way down the stairs, only turning to look back at the door when you lowered yourself into the cab and murmured the club’s address to the cabbie. Alex stood in the doorway, silhouetted in the light of the hall, until the house’s facade was no longer visible. You let out a long breath, wondering what might happen if circumstances were different.

But there was no time for that. The club was only a few minutes away from the safehouse. You made some final adjustments to your dress, trying in vain to pull it down, before resigning yourself to the lamentable length. Or lack thereof. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as the cab pulled to the curb. You thanked the cabbie, tipped him, and lifted yourself out of the back seat.

You knew there was a door set into the side of the building that led into the bar storeroom and prep kitchen. Laswell had gotten pictures of you and Alex to your contact, Luca; he knew to expect you, and what you were doing. Much to everyone’s chagrin, though, he had stressed to Kate that he would not and could not afford to acknowledge either of you. Whatever you did, it had to fly under his security’s radar. If you were to be caught, he’d have no link to you, or the CIA.

Typical.

You punched in the door code you’d memorized, holding your breath for the second it took to beep and open. When it did, you slid into the building, the clicking of your heels buried under the pounding bass as you made your way through the prep kitchen. You could hear a young man jabbering away in Dutch as you approached, critiquing the presentation of charcuterie boards and drink trays. He looked up as you approached, eyes roving over you.

“Ah, you’ve finally arrived! Good, good. Mr. Harding and his guests will be here any minute. Let me show you to his preferred room.”

“Bedankt,” you said, and Luca beamed.

“Ah, you know some of our fine language!” he crowed gleefully. He began chattering again, speaking intermittently in Dutch and English as he led you through the private rooms to one at the end of the hall. He opened the door, ushered you in, and then glanced quickly around the room.

“All of Meneer Harding’s business, he conducts from his personal laptop. He will set it there.” He pointed to a narrow shelf that jutted from the wall to cross the wraparound seating built into the sides of the room. “He demands no surveillance in this room and pays handsomely for it. He is very strict.” Luca turned to face you with a deadly serious expression.

“I strongly recommend that you do not try to plant any equipment now. He has a man who will sweep the room prior to his arrival. He is quite thorough.”

“Bedankt, Luca. We appreciate your help.”

He nodded sharply, opening the door and ushering you out with another conspicuous look at your figure as you passed him. “You will bring champagne, charcuterie, and anything else Meneer Harding requests. And if they request nothing, you dance,” he muttered. “Good luck, and Godzijdank.”

While you made your way to the bar, Luca broke off to go to his office. He must have told the bartender to expect you, because he gave you a wary look when you leaned on the bar before handing over what looked like a wristwatch. When you turned it over in your hands, you realized it was a pager. You looked up as you fastened it and the bartender pointed to a tray filled with drinks.

“Booth twelve,” he shouted. You nodded, picking up the tray and turning toward the club. Colorful lights flashed and swept across the floor in time with the throbbing bass pumping through the speakers. Bodies swayed and bounced along, packed together tightly between you and the booths across the dance floor. You straightened your shoulders, lifted the tray above your head, and set off through the throng.

You’d just broken through the bulk of dancers when the door swung wide to reveal Alex, feet planted firmly shoulder-width apart. Your breath stuttered in your lungs. He looked like he belonged here; since you’d left the safehouse, he’d managed to tame his hair. Mostly, at least. It was swept back, but not slicked to his scalp, and several carefully chosen pieces still stood upright. He’d forgone the jacket, and his all-black ensemble helped to blend his broad frame with the surrounding party-goers. His piercing gaze swept the room, landing on you for only a split second before he stalked into the room, heading for the bar.

You managed to keep your feet moving, arriving at the booth and leaning too-far forward with your chest out as you lowered the tray and passed out drinks. The men at the booth whooped, eyeing you appreciatively, but thankfully keeping their hands to themselves as you turned to go back to the bar. Alex stood at the end when you arrived, facing the dance floor. You could feel his gaze heavy on you, but each time you glanced over, he appeared for all the world to be observing the room, bobbing his head lightly along to the music.

Your pager buzzed, the number “06” flashing across the screen, and you picked up another tray of drinks. You delivered them to a table of squealing young girls who shouted that you looked good enough to eat, batted your eyelashes, and sauntered away. You didn’t see any trays when you got back to the bar, and when you looked up at the bartender, he motioned to the floor. “Dance,” he mouthed.

Before you could turn, you felt a warm body press itself to your back. “May I have this dance?” rumbled Alex. His lips brushed your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine as he laid his hands on your hips. You smiled, a wide and savage smile, turning to take hold of his tie and walk backward toward the dancers, pulling him along as you went. He came willingly, swaying along with you until you were pressed together by the people around you.

You raised your hands to the back of his neck, stroking gently as his hands pulled your hips toward him. He leaned forward, pressing his lips just behind your ear. Any onlooker would think he was whispering sweet nothings or dirty secrets. Instead, he was asking “Any word on Harding?”

You turned your own head, pulling him down just enough that you could say “no” into his ear. His hands tightened involuntarily as you did, and you wondered at the goosebumps you could feel under your fingertips. Had those been there before?

After a too-brief time of dancing, your pager buzzed, flashing a bright “03”, and you grudgingly pulled free of Alex’s hold. He reached out a hand after you, and you let your fingers trail down his arm as you backed away. He watched you go, half amused and half like a lost puppy. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wanted to keep you there.

You picked up a tray of drinks, made your way to the booth, delivered while your pager buzzed again, and cycled back. Half an hour of this later, with momentary excursions into the crowd to dance, and your pager flared up again. This time, the screen only flashed light at you. You looked to the door, and there was Harding. He was flanked by two burly men nearly Alex’s height, and easily just as broad. The three of them pushed through the crowds toward the private rooms, and you rushed to the bar. The bartender had already placed a bottle of champagne on a tray, complete with two crystal flutes, and bustled you off the moment you arrived.

You picked up the tray and hurried down the short hall, pausing with your hand on the doorknob before opening it and walking in. Harding looked up, eyes widening almost imperceptibly as you let your hips sway for the three steps it took to get to the low table. You smiled up through your lashes, crouching to set the tray down on the table.

“May I serve your champagne?” you asked in a low, sultry voice.

Harding leaned back, spreading his arms across the back of his seat. “You may.” He watched your every movement as you opened the bottle, giggling as the foam gushed up and over your fingers. You expertly poured a flute, extending it to him as you leaned across the table. As you did, you rested your free hand next to his laptop in an imitation of maintaining balance. You thumbed your ring, working the USB drive free and sliding it into a port on Harding’s laptop surreptitiously.

“May I bring you anything else?” You pulled your shoulders back, exposing more cleavage in a bid to hold his attention long enough that he would miss the popup on his screen. His eyes never left you, traveling slowly down your body before raising themselves back up to your face. You could barely suppress a shudder of disgust. He cocked his head slightly, leaning further back and taking his time to contemplate.

“No,” he finally said. “Not now.”

You nodded, fluttering your eyelashes, and let your hips sway provocatively as you stepped out. When you turned back to the main club, you saw Alex leaning against the bar nearest the door. The moment he saw you, he ran his tongue along his teeth and grinned wolfishly at you. You wondered what he would taste like if it was your tongue instead. You quickly shook the thought free, striding toward him. You murmured out of the corner of your mouth, hoping you could be heard by your earpiece without being seen. “Putting on a show now, are you?”

He unabashedly let his eyes roam down your frame, and you couldn’t stop the shudder you felt now. But there was no disgust in it. You barely caught his tiny nod, but you scanned the room until your attention caught on a man watching you from a booth nearby. He was young, traditionally handsome with tan skin and sun-kissed blonde hair, and well-dressed. His suit probably cost more than your entire wardrobe, and you didn’t even want to know the brand of the gold watch on his wrist. He watched you as you walked, predatory as he sipped some dark liquor from a cut glass tumbler.

Alex reached out as you passed him, standing and pulling you to his chest in one fluid motion. “I’ll put on any show I need to, I don’t like the way that guy’s looking at you.” You let him pull you into the throng, giggling loudly for effect as you pasted a smile on your face.

“My hero,” you whispered. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the man drain his glass and stalk toward the private rooms. Into your earpiece, you murmured “Can you see which room he’s going to?”

Alex took your hand, pulling back to blatantly admire you in what was probably meant to be a salacious observation on full display for anyone watching the two of you. He lifted your hand, spinning you and then pulling your back to his chest, deftly wrapping a hand around to rest on your abdomen while turning to face the doorway. You just caught sight of the door to Harding’s room swinging shut behind someone. Likely your admirer. You leaned back against Alex’s chest, lacing your fingers behind his neck and tilting your head back to look up at him. He was already looking down at you, the leaden blue of his irises eclipsed by his pupils. Desire. You were seeing your own desire reflected on his face.

You swallowed hard, and then your pager buzzed. Show time.

You peeled yourself from Alex’s body, tracing his reaching arm with a light fingertip and smiling coyly at him through your lashes. You picked up a tray of bottles of expensive, dark liquors- some in crystal decanters to match the cut glass tumblers- and sauntered to the private rooms.

Harding and your admirer were deep in heated conversation when you stepped through the door. Your heart sank when you realized that they weren’t speaking Dutch, but Russian. Your Russian was mediocre at best, and you just hoped Alex’s was a little less rusty. You caught stray words as you sat on your heels to pour drinks, but nothing cohesive passed your ears. All the same, your skin crawled. What little you could make out seemed heavy with slurs and threats, and neither man had become any less angry than they were when you’d arrived. You stood, reaching out to offer a glass to each of them with a wide smile pinned over your rising discomfort.

“Gentlemen,” you purred. “May I bring you anything else?”

The younger man’s hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist lightning fast and dragging you down into his lap. The shriek you let out was real, too real, as your heart stopped. You forced out a slightly manic giggle, trying to play off your anxiety. After all, regardless of circumstance, the action warranted some level of surprise. You just hoped he took it as nothing more than that.

He gripped your chin and turned your head, studying you. You could see him undressing you with his eyes. You were going to be sick.

“I think I have everything I want,” he drawled. You felt a sharp pinch in your arm, looking down in horror to see a needle withdrawing from the crook of your elbow. “Let’s just test this out first. See if it works like you say.” He turned back to Harding as you wrenched your arm, but he only tightened his grip. “Give me the girl for the night and you have a deal.”

“Hey,” you began, and hated how your voice shook. “What the hell was that?”

Your heart leapt into your throat before sinking to your knees. You felt a cold sweat break as white noise overtook every other sound in the room. You snapped back to yourself just as quickly, realizing that you could hear Alex whispering. “I’ve got you. Just hold on, I’ve got you.”

Harding was studying the man who’d dragged you down, cocking his head back and forth. Both men ignored you as you looked between them frantically. “You know that this isn’t a strip club, Sasha. The girls here aren’t under my… jurisdiction.” His face betrayed nothing, as though he hadn’t just watched a man drug some girl in some club. You were definitely going to be sick. “You’d have to talk to the owner.”

Sasha’s lip was curling up in a sneer when a loud crash echoed through the room. You looked up to see Alex lurch in, careening with his hands held out to the sides. You could smell alcohol on him, from all the way across the room. Your heart sank and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry. You’d let yourself trust him. You thought he’d be different. You hadn’t pictured him getting drunk at all, let alone like this. All your hope oozed out as he swung in a haphazard circle, briefly resting his hand near the laptop before looking blearily around the small room. When his eyes landed on you, a slow grin stretched across his mouth as he raised his hands lazily.

“There she is!” he slurred, stumbling in your direction and wrapping large, warm hands gently around your wrists. He unceremoniously dragged you up, forcing Sasha to let go, and pulled you straight to his chest.

And then he kissed you. Soundly.

Whatever you’d expected, it wasn’t this.

But he didn’t taste like alcohol. Through the haze of confusion and terror and shock, you felt an overwhelming sweep of relief. Your hands involuntarily shot up to cradle his jaw as he attacked your mouth, like a parched man who’d just found water. His hands clutched at your waist, pulling your body to his tightly as he leaned toward you. The kiss was sloppy, far overdone for your audience, a tangle of tongues and teeth, but still it took your breath away. You ran a hand down the side of his neck as you tilted your head, pressing yourself further forward into the safety of his arms. His tie and the collar of his shirt were soaked under your hand. He must have poured a drink on himself to seem more drunk. You gasped, and Alex swallowed it, offering up the tiniest moan in return. The roots shot through the surface of your skin.

You felt tears burn the back of your eyes, hope swell in your lungs. You didn’t know which of you had slowed down first, but the kiss had become tender. With every brush of his lips, you could feel as much as you could hear “I’ve got you I’ve got you I’ve got you”. The flower buds tickled at your chest, begging to push through the soil of your skin into the sunlight that was this man. The inexplicable draw you’d felt to him since that first meeting at Langley, the safety, the trust, it all came flooding up. It wasn’t enough to drown the abject fear you felt in the moment, but it met it head on, keeping it from suffocating you. Holding it at bay.

You heard Harding clear his throat impatiently, and pulled back, giggling. Alex chased you, placing two more feather light kisses at the corner of your mouth. Suddenly, whatever you’d been injected with hit you like a train. The room seemed blurry, and kept spinning even once you knew your head had stopped moving. And your head. It felt so, so heavy. You couldn’t focus, could barely keep your feet under you. You clutched at Alex’s shirt front, willing your body to cooperate. It took you too long to realize that he was speaking, and you knew it more from the rumble under your palm than the sound of his voice. He sounded underwater. Other people were speaking, too. And they sounded underwater.

Then you were moving, half walking and half being carried out of the room and down a hall. It was bright. Too bright. And so loud. You looked at Alex, who was now watching you with a wildness that took you a moment to place. Raw, helpless panic. “Sweetheart?” he was saying, but the word sounded funny. Sweet as molasses and just as thick in the distorted realm you walked.

“Drugged,” you managed, a strangled croak pushing through your throat. “He drugged… me.” You thought you heard cursing, and then your feet weren’t holding you up any more. Your body floated into a place not so loud, not so hot- quite chilly, actually- and when you turned your head, you weren’t floating. Your cheek rested over Alex’s thundering heart as he ran. You reached up a limp hand, barely managing to stroke it down his temple. “Y’re so… pretty.”

You closed your eyes and slipped into blackness.

You came back slowly, wading through a haze of voices and beeping and clattering. When you managed to peel open your eyes, you saw a dark room and a man half sitting, half laying across your bed. There was a moment of near-violent alarm before you recognized Alex’s unruly head of hair. He was sleeping, face turned away from you on the edge of the bed, and one arm lay draped over your waist. The other was tucked to his chest, and you noticed with a jolt that he was holding your hand, his thumb resting lightly over your pulse.

You took a moment to inventory your feelings. Your blood still sang with a vicious flight response, but you’d managed to compartmentalize for the mission. You had no idea how Alex had gotten you both out of there, but you didn’t care. You were grateful. The kiss. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to memorize all the best parts of how that kiss had felt. In the moment, it had grounded you. Surprised you enough that you could tamp down your feelings.

Alex’s file flashed across your minds’ eye. Intentional. Disappointment bubbled up in your throat before being swept over with thankfulness. He’d kissed you as a distraction, to both you and the room. To get you out of a bad situation. Nothing more.

You didn’t even know why you were wishing it was more. You’d known this man for only days. Yet something in you reached out for him. You wanted to know him more. You’d built more trust in him in these days than in anyone else in the years since that fateful mission. Well, more than anyone except Kate. Maybe. You smiled to yourself as it dawned on you that Kate knew exactly what she was doing, putting the two of you together. She knew you needed him. Unbidden, Alex’s file leapt back into your mind. Delta.

What happened to you, sweet boy? Could you need me, too?

Unconsciously, you reached across your body to thread your fingers through Alex’s hair. The moment you made contact, his body went rigid. That split second stretched into a lifetime as you remembered the way he’d snapped awake in the plane, and again from the safehouse couch. You froze, but there was no fear. When time came back to itself, within the same second you’d touched him, he relaxed. His grip on your wrist tightened, just a bit, thumb pressing down on your pulse. He sucked in a breath and slowly, carefully, turned his head to look at you.

His eyes scanned over your face, and you weren’t sure if you imagined that they lingered just a bit longer on your lips before meeting your gaze. You quirked up one corner of your mouth in a tiny smile and it was like a dam broke.

The breath Alex had taken in came shuddering out as he raised his hand from your waist to your cheek. He half stood, hovering and squeezing the hand he still held. His thumb trembled as it skimmed across your skin and you recognized that he was shaking.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed. He leaned further forward, pressing his lips to your forehead. You squeezed his hand.

“It’s okay,” you started, but he’d pulled back and was shaking his head. He sank to his knees at the side of the bed, clasping your hand in both of his and drawing it to his lips.

“I failed you,” he said simply. You couldn’t picture the look on your face in that moment. You just knew you must look like something out of a cartoon with the way you felt your mouth and eyebrows twist in disbelief.

“And how do you suppose…?”

Alex’s eyes flashed. “You were hurt because of me. I should have pushed back about this whole plan, I should have figured something else out. It should have been me.”

Your heart clenched. With a pang, you recognized something for which you had no proof but the undeniable comprehension that filled you. Survivor’s guilt.

“Almost,” you whispered. Alex’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching up to smooth your thumb over the skin. It disappeared the moment your fingertips brushed against it, and Alex leaned into your touch. “I almost got hurt. You stopped that from happening.”

He didn’t look convinced. You both watched each other for several long minutes. His eyes kept skimming your lips, and you were sure yours did the same. “I had no right to kiss you,” he finally murmured, and you blinked in surprise. He’d dropped his gaze, looking away as his cheeks burned with shame. You raised a hand, turning his face back toward you. He looked up reluctantly when you held him there.

“That kiss saved me from… from…” You gulped, suddenly trembling all over again. Alex made gentle hushing sounds, raising himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. He reached for both of your shoulders, rubbing them lightly. You debated with yourself for only a moment before launching up to hug him. He let out a grunt at the force of your contact, but his arms came up around you, cradling you to his chest as sobs wracked your body.

You’d managed to put it from your mind, mostly. Now terror and revulsion and dread and fear and fear and fear crashed down, rattling through your lungs and threading through your veins like ice. You sobbed, and Alex rocked you, humming and hushing and holding as you broke down, kept together only by his firm grip on you. You weren’t sure how long you stayed that way, clutching him as though for dear life, but when you opened your eyes again, the sun was blazing on the horizon.

You squeezed his broad shoulders, and he squeezed your waist. You took a moment, finally calm, to run your hands over the planes of his back. Hard muscle clenched under your touch before your hands settled on his shoulders, still wrapped under his arms. You weren’t ready to let go quite yet.

“How’d you do it, anyway?”

You felt, more than heard, his answering hum. You turned your head, tucking your nose under his jaw. He inhaled sharply and you traced a line to the back of his ear, speaking with your lips at the place the two met. “How’d you get me out?”

“I,” he said, and his voice came out somewhat strangled. His arms pulled you the tiniest bit closer as he cleared his throat. “I may have, um. Told them that, uh, that I’d already paid for you for the night.”

You pulled back, blinking at him. His hold on you loosened, but his hands still rested between your shoulder blades. He seemed nervous. You smiled at him, hoping to ease his nerves. “And they accepted that?”

He scoffed. “Almost didn’t. Harding didn’t seem to care, but the asshole who had his filthy hands on you,” his own hands tightened here “said he’d buy me out.”

You raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Alex’s eyes softened considerably, and he raised one hand to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “I told him I’d made up my mind about you and no amount of money could change it.” You smiled at each other then, and your eyes dropped to his lips. When you looked back up, he was watching you intently. “He wasn’t too pleased with that, but… Harding, actually told him to cool it. No weapons in the club, don’t jeopardize the operation over…” here he stopped, looking away in obvious disgust. “I knew something was wrong when I tried to take you out, but I didn’t know what.”

You took in a deep breath, looking down. “What was it?” Your voice sounded small to your own ears. Alex didn’t answer right away. When you looked up, he seemed fixed on a point on the wall.

“Ketamine,” he said softly. Your body convulsed then, a fresh wave of icy terror sweeping over you. Alex hauled you forward until you were practically in his lap, rocking you again and stroking your hair. I’ve got you I’ve got you I’ve got you.

“Tell me you got the USB,” you said through clenched teeth.

“I got it,” he answered. “Harding, that scumbag, the whole operation- it was all on that file. The Amsterdam team already locked up the asshole who had you. Harding’s next. You did so good, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

You cried again, crawling as far into him as you could. You tried to silence your mind. Nothing happened, you reminded yourself. Nothing happened.

You cried until a nurse came to release you, then managed to pull yourself together enough to get dressed with Alex watching the door, close enough to touch through the thin material of the curtain that separated you. The hospital had given you a plain grey sweatsuit, which you’d gratefully donned without bothering to put on your underwear. You’d put the jewelry in a bag to go back to Langley, but the mini dress and fishnet body suit and everything underneath had been bundled up and handed to Alex to be thrown away. He’d done it for you gladly.

You gripped his hand the whole taxi ride back, and he’d wrapped an arm around your shoulders protectively. He’d carried the jewelry bag, stuffing it into the entry table drawer in passing. Halfway up the stairs, when you stumbled from a wave of nausea you’d half been expecting, he swept you up as though it was a perfectly natural occurrence and carried you to the bathroom. When you’d collected sleep clothes and makeup remover, he turned to leave. When your hand shot out to grab his, he nodded and perched himself on the toilet to watch you take off your makeup.

You didn’t have to say a word.

When your hand shook so badly that you had to stop, leaning against the sink, he stood, silently taking the makeup wipe from your hands. With the softest touch you’d ever felt, he tiled your chin up and wiped at your eyes, intermittently stopping to re-fold the wipe in search of a patch not streaked with black.

“Where do you want me?” he asked when he was done.

You glanced around the small room, grasping your elbow. “You can go, I’ll be okay.” He watched you, giving you time to change your mind, and then nodded, stepping into the hall and closing the door behind him. You stood for several moments before turning on the shower, anxious all over again. The steaming water did little to calm your nerves, and you scrubbed yourself raw in an effort to wash away the dread that had woven into your skin.

When you’d finally stepped out, opening the door to let steam pour into the hall, there was Alex. He sat against the opposite wall, head in his hands, and looked up when you stepped out. He offered a weak smile in your direction. “Feel any better?” You shrugged, but nodded. He looked down at where you still held your elbows and pushed himself to his feet. You abruptly felt horribly selfish. The circles under his eyes had darkened again and he looked pale. His tie was loose, askew, and he still wore the vest, although the buttons were all undone. His shirt had come partially untucked and you were certain the dress pants and shoes were less than comfortable. How long had he stayed up with you? You’d been hospitalized overnight, sleeping off the effects of the drug. Had he eaten anything since your dinner together the day before?

“Are you hungry?” you blurted out. His mustache twitched, betraying the amusement he felt.

“Not really. Are you?”

You shook your head. You noticed the clean clothes in his hands for the first time, and that wave of selfishness passed over you again. “You should shower.”

“You can come, if you want.” Your head snapped up, but there was nothing teasing in his tone or gaze. He seemed to think you weren’t pleased by this, because he rushed to say “I just mean if you don’t want to be alone.”

You looked down. “I don’t,” you said quietly.

Alex reached a hand toward you. “Then c’mere.” He pulled you into the bathroom, leaving the hall door open, and lifted you by your waist onto the countertop. He opened your toiletry bag, rifling through until he found what he was looking for. He turned on the tap, running your toothbrush under the stream of water, and then squeezed out a perfect stripe of toothpaste. Your eyes filled with tears when he presented it to you.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you took it. He smiled, squeezed your shoulder, and turned to undress. You looked out into the hall, allowing yourself just one glance as he pulled the dress shirt off and dropped it to the sides. The muscles in his arms rippled under the dark lines of his tattoos, and you found yourself surprised that he didn’t have more covering his torso. His shoulders were a wide, blank canvas marked only by faded white scars.

You turned quickly away, cheeks heating with guilt. He’d let you in here to calm yourself, not to ogle him. He showered much more quickly than you had, turning off the faucet as you spat your toothpaste into the sink. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his arm as he reached for his towel, pulling it back behind the curtain.

“I’ll let you get dressed,” you said, stepping into the hall. You left the door cracked, pressing your back against the wall beside it and tilting your head back as you waited. You counted the seconds to keep your mind calm, and Alex emerged at 104. Like that first night in the safehouse, his hair was wild and his t-shirt clung to his damp skin. White this time, revealing a single tattoo on his chest above his heart. You couldn’t see clearly what it was, but you thought you saw something vaguely triangular. He smiled when his eyes rested on you and you offered a shaky smile back. “You look tired.”

He stretched his neck, reaching up to run a hand down his face. “Yeah.” He said simply. “Are you?” You nodded. He tilted his head toward your rooms, stepping forward. “C’mon, then.”

Your hand shot out before you could stop it, fingers wrapping around his bicep. Alex looked down sharply, concern etching his features.

You found that you didn’t know what to say. His face softened as he watched you, patiently waiting for you to find the words you wanted. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

He visibly melted, nodding. “Of course.” Blooms burst from the stems that rose from your skin, turning toward him like sunflowers to the sun. When you didn’t move, he offered you his hand. You took it, reveling in the warmth of his palm as he led you to his bed. You crawled across the narrow space, pressing yourself as close to the wall as you could.

Nerves sprung up as Alex deposited his clothes on the floor before sitting. He was a large man, and this bed was only meant for one person. He was already so tired, you couldn’t possibly keep him from sleeping well again, you had to tell him you’d be okay on your own, you had to-

“Stop thinking so loud.” Alex had stretched out, turning to you and waiting for you to lift your head so that he could rest his arm there. You did, and he scooted closer once you rested your cheek on his bicep. You didn’t move for a moment, too ashamed for taking even more than what he’d already given you. He reached around you, tugging you forward until your body was flush with his and your legs tangled together. You were so close that your nose rested on top of his, and one hand lay against his chest while the other toyed with the hem of his shirt.

“Thank you,” you whispered. In the darkness, you could only see a slight shine where his eyes were.

“Of course,” he murmured. His lips brushed yours as they formed the vowels. Your heart skipped a beat. He closed his eyes, and after a time, his breathing evened out and you thought he’d fallen asleep. Then he whispered, so softly that you almost thought you’d imagined it, “I want you here.”

You opened your eyes to see a pale sliver of moonlight illuminating a strip of his face. His eyes were on your lips, but they flicked up when yours opened.

You hardly even had to tilt your head, more leaning than actual movement. You pressed your lips to his, and the instant they touched he whimpered softly. Slowly, carefully, you slid your lips against his. You let your fingertips slide under the hem of his t-shirt, smiling against his mouth at the goosebumps that broke out across his skin. You traced the taut muscles of his abdomen as your tongue slid into his mouth, tracing patterns against his in a slow dance.

Alex was perfectly still, save for kissing you back. His hands hadn’t moved, one flat against the small of your back and one on the pillow somewhere behind your head, and suddenly you worried that you had overstepped. You flinched back, Alex involuntarily following you forward as his eyes snapped open.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed.

He was panting lightly, clearly trying to hide it. He licked his lips. “For what?”

“Kissing you, I don’t… I don’t want you to feel used.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a wry smile. Finally, the hand on your waist lifted to cup your cheek. “You don’t ever have to apologize to me. For anything.” His expression turned serious and he cleared his throat. “Besides, I’ve… I’ve been used for much worse. This is… this is a nice change.”

Delta flashed through your mind, but you kept your mouth shut. His thumb skimmed your lips, your nose, and the apple of your cheek. You closed your eyes, leaning forward to press one last kiss to his soft lips. He sighed into it, hand sliding down your side to your waist once more. He tugged you ever so slightly closer as you tucked your nose under his, lips still a hairs’ breadth apart. You slept soundly that night.

Two years later

You stood at the airport terminal, tapping your foot in excitement and anticipation.

Alex was coming home.

Amsterdam had been the start of a new routine for you both. He’d had to fly straight back to his post in Bahrain, but he hadn’t left without your number. You’d scribbled it in a tiny space of blank skin on his wrist, just below a line of barbed wire. You’d nearly added a heart, but worried at the last moment that it would be too intimate and instead settled on a poorly drawn shoelace, haphazardly tied around the barbed wire.

Alex had come back from that assignment with an addition to his sleeve that no one else was likely to notice. But you noticed.

You had picked him up from the airport then, too, and you’d stayed up all night, talking about everything from Alex‘s assignment that he was able to share and everything you had done in the time since. It hadn’t been much. Despite therapy, a strict gym routine, and a full plate at work (your director was thrilled to have you back), you’d been having nightmares. And early the next morning when you’d woken up on the couch where you'd fallen asleep, gasping for air and desperately trying to blink away the image of Sasha your subconscious had dredged up, Alex had pulled you into his lap and hushed you, stroking your hair and rocking gently.

“He’ll never hurt anyone again, angel. None of them are ever getting out, and it’s all because of you. You were so brave.”

You’d made each other house keys later that day. You’d joked weeks later that he should give up his apartment, seeing as he spent most nights at your townhouse anyway. He didn’t, and the change of scenery when you both stayed there was nice. You were particularly grateful when he was gone- staying there, surrounded by him, helped ease his absence- but you still felt just a bit of disappointment. You’d been joking, but you would have let him move in without a moment’s hesitation if he’d said yes.

Since the first time you’d picked him up, there hadn’t been a day that Alex was stateside that you hadn’t seen each other. This assignment had been the longest, and with the least contact. He’d been gone for nearly three months and you’d only heard from him twice- once to tell you he’d landed and once to tell you his flight information to come home.

You’d arrived at the airport half an hour before the time he’d given you, too impatient to spend the time flitting uselessly around your townhouse. Dinner was in the oven, the pantry was overfilled with snacks, and you’d made gallons of the sweet tea Alex was so fond of. Your spare room was ready with clean sheets and a lavender oil diffuser, and you’d laid out his favorite plaid pajama pants on the bathroom counter. You’d smiled to yourself as you fingered the soft material. Sometime in the early weeks of staying together, Alex had emerged from his room wearing them with one of the tank tops he usually wore to the gym.

“Oh, so we’re working out now?” you’d teased. You were curled up on the couch, flipping through channels in search of a good movie. Alex hadn’t answered right away, and you looked up to see him rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I, uh. I don’t really have too many t-shirts,” he’d mumbled. He shrugged at your incredulous look. “I’ve been on my own for a long time. Never really worn a shirt around here.”

You’d felt the heat rising in your cheeks as you cocked an eyebrow at him. “So then take it off.” Flustering Alex never ceased to amuse you, and didn’t fail now as his cheeks flushed red.

“You’re… you’d be okay with that?” You leveled a stare at him as if to ask “seriously?” and he shifted his weight, debating. After a few seconds, he reached for the back of the shirt and tugged it off. You stared openly at him. You’d assumed he’d be gorgeous, had imagined it, but your fantasies couldn’t compare to reality. Your eyes had gone first to the solitary tattoo on his chest- a dagger through the center of an open triangle with a lightning bolt on one end. Then they’d followed the trail of hair that led down and fastened on the lines of muscles along his hips. Your mouth watered. You wanted to touch them, run your tongue along them. They clenched as Alex shifted again, clearing his throat, and you looked up to see him looking, of all things, self-conscious. You let out a low, long wolf-whistle and he huffed lightly. “Hush up with all that,” he grumbled good-naturedly, dropping onto the couch and pulling you into his side. “Although I suppose I should expect it. You did call me pretty once, after all.” Your cheeks had flamed, but the outcome had been more than worth the momentary embarrassment. He’d slowly stopped wearing shirts to bed, in either of your homes, and you’d done your level best to keep your ogling to a minimum.

The tram slid into the station and you held your breath, as you’d been doing every time it arrived.

Your eyes landed on a tall head of messy brown hair, just over the top of the crowd. Your grin widened until you were sure it would split your face. You watched Alex step onto the escalator, searching the crowd for you.

You held up the houndstooth scarf he’d given you before he left for his first new assignment after Amsterdam. “Something to remember me by,” he’d said, fingers catching on the tassels even as he pressed it into your hands. As if you could ever forget him.

You caught sight of the matching scarf he wore, the one you’d given him at the airport when he’d come back from that assignment. Then his eyes met yours and he lifted his hand, offering a weak attempt to meet your smile. Your heart sank. He looked haunted, and exhausted. The circles under his eyes were far, far worse than any you’d seen before. He looked thinner, and there was a vacancy in his eyes that hurt your soul to see.

You pushed through the crowd when you saw him tap the shoulder of the man in front of him, making his way down as fast as he could. You broke through the last line of people just as his boots hit the floor and you sprinted the two steps between you to launch yourself into his arms. He wrapped you up like you weighed nothing, lifting you off your feet in a bone-crushing hug. You lifted one hand to run through the hair at the back of his head as he held you.

As if they were miles away, you heard passers-by coo. You paid them no mind but the common courtesy to not wrap your legs around Alex’s waist in such a public place, instead dangling from his hold by your arms around his neck. You asked nothing, and he offered nothing. When he put you down, he smiled. It wasn’t his usual mirthful, bright, Alex smile. But it was better.

“Can I stay with you for a couple of days?” he murmured.

“Silly man. Of course you can.” You trailed one hand to his cheek. He leaned in, then turned his head to kiss your palm. Goosebumps broke out over your skin. “You know you don’t have to ask.”

He was quiet for the drive, only clasping your free hand in both of his lightly. At home, you ushered him off to shower while you finished dinner. When he stepped into the kitchen, still damp the way you hated to be, you dropped the spoon in your hand.

“Alex,” you choked out. He had lost a notable amount of weight, but that wasn’t what held your focus. Angry marks ran down his torso, ranging in severity from scrapes and bruises of varying colors to a deep gash across his lower abdomen that wrapped around his side. You stumbled toward him, nearly losing your footing in your rush, and he sprang forward to catch you. Your fingertips ran gently over the gash across in his side and he hissed quietly, muscles tensing. “Sorry,” you whispered, still surveying the damage. He’d been wearing a long-sleeved shirt when you picked him up, but now you could see more cuts and bruises on his arms, even beneath the heavy line work of his tattoos.

Tears filled your eyes as your hands hovered just over his skin, afraid to touch him lest he break.

“I’m okay,” he said. He didn’t reach for you, allowing you to inventory his wounds. “It’ll heal.”

You shook your head, reaching for his hand. “Come on,” you said softly. You led him to the bathroom, sat him down on the toilet, and collected your first aid kit. You perched on his knee, trying to keep the majority of your weight off of him. He chuckled as you wavered, struggling to keep your balance.

“You won’t break me.” He rested a hand on your hip as you relaxed your stance. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, only occasionally flinching as you applied salve and bandages to the worst of the cuts.

After dinner, you turned on reruns of an old sitcom with the volume low and dozed on the couch. At some point, you roused when you felt Alex lift you up.

“You shouldn’t be carrying me,” you said sleepily. Alex made a dismissive noise, nudging open your bedroom door and crawling into your bed with you still in his arms. You fell asleep that night laying on his chest with his heartbeat in your ear.

It was weeks later that you jumped awake when you heard Alex yelling, flying up and down the hall to his room. You could see him thrashing in the moonlight that shone through the window. You called his name, but to no avail- he couldn’t hear you through whatever he heard in his nightmare. You turned on the light and then knelt on the bed to grab his wrist. Instantly, he flew forward. He had you pinned to the foot of the bed before you could blink, one arm holding down your midsection while the other hand wrapped around your throat.

You froze, banishing the fear that pricked the back of your mind. You took a deep breath as the wildess in his eyes faded, making way for horror. He scrambled backward until his back forcibly hit the headboard, eyes fixed on you as he whispered your name.

“Did I hurt you? Oh, God, if I hurt you…” His voice and body shook violently, and he scrabbled at the sheets in a full-blown panic. You’d sprung up as soon as he’d let you go, crawling toward him and reaching out.

“You didn’t hurt me. I’m okay, Alex. You’re okay. Come here.”

“No!” he shouted. He seemed to shrink even further back against the headboard, shaking his head frantically. You paused. “No,” he whispered. “I- I didn’t mean- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-”

You crawled the rest of the way to him, still with one hand outstretched. You laid it on his cheek as you crept toward him until your knees straddled his hips. You pressed as close as you could, wrapping your arms around him. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, desperate to reach up. To take the comfort you offered. To touch you. But he wouldn’t.

“You didn’t hurt me,” you repeated. You took one of his shaking hands in yours, raising it to your throat where it had been a moment before. Alex shuddered violently. “Look.” Gently, you pried open his fingers until they lay flat against your skin, and you dragged them down to rest over your heart. “I’m right here, and I’m okay. Okay? You didn’t hurt me. It’s my own fault, I know better. I shouldn’t have touched you.”

He was shaking his head, nearly incoherent in anguish. “No, no, it’s not your fault, it’s my fault, it’s my fault.”

You grasped his head firmly. “Stop,” you whispered. “It’s no one’s fault, then. Okay? Everything is okay.”

Alex sobbed, finally leaning up to tug you closer, tucking his face into your neck. “You would never hurt me,” you repeated. You lifted your hands to his head and scratched lightly at his scalp. “My sweet Alex, you could never hurt me.”

For all the post-assignment nights you’d both had, you’d never seen Alex cry. It was a strange experience, and it broke your heart. He made practically no sound, but the force with which his body shook made the whole bed vibrate. You tightened your grip on him, tilting his head up to yours. He wouldn’t meet your gaze; his eyes were half-lidded, red-rimmed, and fixed on your mouth. You leaned down and he sucked in a breath. Just before your lips touched his, he whispered in a strangled voice. “Don’t.” You froze. “You can’t kiss me.” The roots beneath your skin splintered, breaking apart from each other.

There hadn’t been any more kisses, or discussions of kisses past, since Amsterdam. You’d tried to bury the attraction you felt, the longing to be near him, but you’d come to hope that it was returned. You knew, at least, that your presence was equally wanted. But in this moment, Alex was uncommonly still, eyes closed. Your heart had stopped beating. You leaned back, watching his face for any hint as to what he was feeling. Anything that might lessen the shock. You saw only pain there.

You had horribly misjudged his feelings, horribly misjudged the situation. You wanted to bring him comfort, of course, but you also wanted to show him your heart. To know his heart for you. You’d been selfish. Bile raced up the back of your throat, threatening to come out as you began to raise yourself up on your knees. The moment your hands left his head, though, Alex’s eyes snapped open.

“Wait,” he breathed. He lurched forward, clumsily grabbing at the backs of your thighs.

You could feel tears stinging your eyes. Shame and rejection and despair pumped themselves through your veins with every hard thump of your heart. “I’m sorry-” you began.

Alex had drawn in a deep breath. Now, he cut you off. “You can’t kiss me because I want to kiss you,” he blurted out. That stopped you dead in your tracks. He had looked back to your mouth now. One thumb stroked along your bottom lip as he swallowed, hard. “I want to kiss you so badly it hurts.”

Intentional flashed through your mind in a whole new light, this time.

A breathless laugh escaped you at that. “Well I want to kiss you, too. So why can’t I?”

Alex tore his eyes up with a visible effort. He cleared his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you every day since Amsterdam,” he said solemnly. You felt your heart soar up, up, and away from you. “I didn’t want to stop kissing you in Amsterdam.”

You lowered yourself back to his lap, stroking his hair and the cuts in it. On a balmy night that you’d slept on your balcony, when his head had been in your lap and you’d traced the scars, he’d told you he’d gotten them when he nearly died. “Explosion launched a piece of metal straight at me. Cut right down to the skull. They didn’t think I was going to wake up.” You shook the memory away.

“Then why did you?” you whispered.

Alex was watching your mouth again. “I didn’t want you to think I wanted you just because of the outfit, or that… that I’d kissed you in the club just to kiss you, just because I could.” His voice dropped as his eyes fluttered closed. “But God, did I want to. I didn’t want to stop.” Chills broke out over your skin. His eyes snapped open, blazing with resolve. “I wanted you to want to kiss me. I need you to want me.”

You lowered yourself further, stroking your thumbs up from the tips of his mustache to the tops of his cheekbones. “You didn’t think I wanted to kiss you when I kissed you that night? Didn’t think I’ve wanted you all this time since?”

“I… I thought you just wanted comfort. I didn’t think it had anything to do with me.” The hurt must have flashed across your face, because Alex leaned forward, cupping your cheek and pulling you closer to him by your waist. “I didn’t care. If all you ever wanted from me was comfort, I’d give it gladly without expecting anything in return. And… I had hoped. Since then.” A blush had risen in his cheeks then. “That what I was feeling wasn’t one-sided. I thought maybe, but…”

“I do want to kiss you,” you murmured. “And what you’re feeling is definitely not one-sided.”

He made a pained sound, leaning up seemingly against his own will until his lips barely brushed yours. “Don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear.”

“I’m not.”

There was a beat of stillness before he closed the distance, sealing your mouths together. His tongue seared a trail along the seam of your lips until you parted them for him, and it was like a switch flipped. His body came alive; hands roamed along your back as he alternately gripped your sides and pulled you closer; his chest heaved under your touch. He finally settled on squeezing the tops of your thighs while you tugged at his hair and moved against him, eliciting soft gasps and moans from both of you. The marks across his body had healed, leaving new scars in their places. You danced your fingertips along his bare collarbones, across the Delta team tattoo over his heart, over the scars and down his sculpted pecs and toned abs, drawing out a groan from him when you met the waistband of his pajamas.

“Wait,” he rasped. You waited, stroking the soft trail of hair beneath his belly button. He shuddered under your touch, cursed, and reached down to still your hand as he exerted visible self-control to look up at you. You blinked innocently at him. “You make it so hard to concentrate,” he said mildly, though his pupils were blown wide as his eyes roamed over your face. You giggled at that, which drew out a smile. He met your gaze briefly before looking away and clearing his throat again.

“I love you.” Every root in your body, every space along the stems along your skin and wrapped around your bones, burst forth in uncontrollable buds. You held your breath. “And I don’t expect… nothing has to change. If you don’t, that’s okay. I’ll still give you whatever you want-”

Your heart constricted painfully. You laid a gentle finger against his lips, drawing his attention from the floor. “I would never use you like that,” you said softly. You took in a deep breath. “I’ve loved you for a long time. Since Amsterdam, at least.” Breath had rushed out of him. His face glowed as he looked up at you in adoration.

“At least?” he breathed, teasing even in his disbelief. You shrugged.

“I don’t know. It might have been since you stepped between Kate and I.”

His eyes shone at that. A darkness descended, though, clouding his gaze. “And you’re not… I don’t…” You understood what he couldn’t say. You lifted his chin.

“You do not scare me,” you said firmly. He swallowed, looking away, and you wiggled his chin to get him to look back at you. “You would never, never hurt me, Alex. I’ve never felt as safe as I feel with you.” He nodded slowly. You leaned forward, pressing him back against the headboard to kiss him hard. You took control, and he let you. You poured all of your longing, love, desire, and reassurance into the kiss, leaning heavily against him as your mouths moved. Your hands were all over him, tracing scars and tattoos and patterns only you could see.

His hands crept under your shirt, skimming your sides until they rested between your shoulder blades. He squeezed lightly, leaning forward to deepen the kiss. He tilted his head and you let your hands brush down his ribs to trace the beginnings of the v-cut you’d always wanted to touch. You dipped your fingertips beneath the band of his pajamas and he lurched forward, breath leaving in a rush as though he’d been punched.

“Wait,” he gasped again, hands flying to your hips.

You huffed out an amused sound. “You know, if you keep stopping me like this, I’m going to worry that you don’t actually want me.”

Alex tugged your hips against his, wiping the smirk from your face as he leaned forward. His face had flushed cherry red, and the uncertainty with which he spoke was preciously endearing. “I think that you can feel perfectly well that that’s not true,” he murmured. And oh, goodness, could you.

You hummed in agreement, grinding your hips down on the proof of his desire. Alex groaned, grip tightening and face reddening even further. “I’ll never say no to you,” he ground out. That piqued your interest. You relented, sitting back to look at him curiously. “But I just… I didn’t want our first time to be… I’d never imagined…” His voice softened as he trailed off, eyes flitting to the foot of the bed. He didn’t want it to happen in the wake of his remorse, weighed by his inner turmoil.

You felt your heart melt. You’ve imagined this?

Your hand flew to your mouth when Alex’s darkening gaze told you you’d spoken aloud. His voice was gravel when he spoke. “Yes.” One hand stroked the scars on your arm, the other the side of your throat. “There’s a reason I usually get up before you.”

“Oh,” you said. And you realized, with a start, that he usually did. Ohhh. He was looking down now, shame coloring his cheeks. Anticipation lit beneath your skin, tempered only by the exhaustion evident on his face. You tilted his chin up. “I’ve imagined it, too.” He twitched beneath you, face a display of utter shock. You traced the shadows beneath his eyes tenderly.

“Take me to bed,” you whispered. “We’ll sleep tonight. Our first time can be any time you want, however you’ve imagined it.” A slow smile spread over Alex’s face.

“Yes ma’am,” he said. Then he abruptly stood with you still in his lap, wrapped your legs around him, and carried you shrieking down the hall to your bed.

The first time was the next morning, slow and soft as the sun breaking on the horizon. It was just as gentle, adoring, and attentive as you’d come to expect from Alex. Lush, languid, loving.

“Just like you’ve imagined?”

“Mhmm. And so much better.”

The next time was at Alex’s apartment as you packed his things the morning after that, half on the couch and eventually on the floor. Giggling, silly, and so natural. Just like you’d imagined.

Then there were the gym showers after he’d benched nearly his body weight. You’d teased him for too long, straddling him and giggling as you leaned down to whisper filthy things in his ear. He’d given up halfway through his set after nearly dropping the bar on his face, hauling you furtively to the locker rooms. Neither of you had quite imagined that.

The week Alex let his apartment go, you literally ran into Kate in the Langley halls, nearly spilling both of your coffees and successfully scattering the files she’d been holding.

“Trip,” she greeted warmly. “Living up to your name, I see.” She waved off your profuse apologies, walking with you and asking about how you’d been since you last spoke some weeks ago. “I see Alex changed his mailing address,” she said with a sly smile.

You raised your eyebrows, faux innocence dripping from your voice. “Oh? Was it unexpected?”

“No. In fact, it was quite expected.” She was beyond pleased, barely containing her smile before walking into her briefing. She took your hand just before you turned toward the elevators. “You’re so good for each other.” You’d smiled for the rest of the day, thrilled to have been right about her intentions. You couldn’t wait to tell Alex.

When you got home that afternoon, he wasn’t there, but there was a note on the island. “Gonna be late, dinner at 7?” There was an address for a fancy restaurant just a few blocks away that you’d mentioned wanting to try. You smiled, walked into your bedroom, and smiled even wider when you saw the dress and heels he’d set out for you. The dress was a rich, sapphire blue satin you’d bought some months back for a wedding that was unexpectedly canceled. You’d whined to Alex that you’d have to return it without ever having worn it and he’d insisted you keep it. “I promise you I can find some occasion for you to wear it,” he’d said.

You showered, re-did your makeup, and then slid the dress on. The sleeves fit tightly to your elbows, covering your scars, before flaring into bells that draped past your knees. The back was open all the way down, and a provocative slit up the side showed off most of your thigh. Alex hadn’t seen it on you yet, and you were eager to see his reaction. You’d learned since that first morning that he loved your thighs, something that was particularly delightful to you. You pulled on the silver pumps, considered a wrap, and decided against it. The weather report showed a warm evening with only a slight breeze.

You thought about taking your car, but decided not to when you saw that Alex’s was gone. It wasn’t so warm that you’d be sweaty by the time you got there, and it wasn’t so far that your feet would hurt, even in your heels. You fixed your hair, took one last look in the mirror, and set off.

The streets of D.C. were as lively as ever; people bustled up and down the sidewalk, taxis honked at each other, birds chirped, and you could hear children laughing from the park across the street. You smiled to yourself, grateful that you loved your city. When you reached the restaurant, you paused to admire the plate glass windows and gothic architecture before walking in.

Your eyebrows shot up when a doorman swung the door open, bowing slightly as you walked past. You murmured your thanks before approaching the maître d', an elderly gentleman in a tux who greeted you with a stiff bow and a warm smile.

“Good evening, my dear. Do you have a reservation?”

“I believe so,” you said, sure that Alex had thought this far ahead. “Seven o’clock for Alex Keller?” The maître d's face lit up and he extended his arm to you.

“Ah, yes! Mr. Keller. He asked me to seat you upon arrival and extend his deepest apologies for his tardiness; he shall arrive presently.”

You pursed your lips, trying to hide your smile. “Thank you so much.”

“But of course! May I interest you in anything to drink while you wait? A glass of wine, perhaps?”

“Um,” you began, and it was the maître d's turn to hide a smile at your ineloquence. “Could I just have a glass of water, please?”

You’d reached a table at the far side of the restaurant, just against a wall filled with expensive-looking, tasteful art. The maître d’ pulled out your chair, lowering you into it and nodding emphatically. “One glass of water, in just one moment.”

“Thank you,” you smiled. You took the opportunity to peer around the restaurant, noting the chandeliers and formally dressed staff. You wondered, vaguely, whether Alex had something up his sleeve or whether he’d just picked the place because you’d been interested. Or whether he’d picked it for an excuse to get you into, and later out of, that dress.

A waiter brought your water. You thanked him and, just as you picked it up, you heard Alex.

“She didn’t go falling on you, now did she?”

“No, sir, not at all!” replied the maître d’. You turned, gaping at your- boyfriend? Partner? There didn’t seem to be a good term for you two, and you hadn’t discussed any labels. You settled on person in your mind. And your person was beaming, eyes sparkling in mirth as he walked to the table. He held out a hand to you as he arrived.

“You expect me to kiss you after that?”

The maître d’ laughed sharply, quickly covering his mouth and excusing himself with a bow.

“I do,” said Alex smoothly. You grudgingly rose to your feet for a chaste kiss, eyeing him appreciatively as you did. He’d picked a black suit and tie with a silk shirt that matched your sapphire dress. His hair was, as always, out of place and wild. It just added to his charm. He looked devastatingly handsome. He seemed to think the same as you, holding you out in front of him and whistling low. He spun you around and was shaking his head when you faced him again. His eyes had darkened nearly to match his shirt.

“You look ravishing,” he said solemnly.

You felt a flash of shyness before the lust in his gaze caught up with your own, and then you felt just as ravishing as you were sure he thought you were.

“Business go well?” you asked as you slid back into the chair Alex had pulled out for you.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he sat. “Extremely.” There was a twinkle in his eye that made you squint at him, but he waved a hand. “Later. Have you looked at the menu yet? Pick something and tell me about your day.”

So you did. Your department had just begun using a new program and the legwork associated with updating all of your files was extensive. You’d been tasked with sorting and fixing error codes, and the list was thousands of lines long. It was tedious work. You paused to order when a waiter arrived, then regaled Alex with overly dramatic tales of your boredom, making him laugh loudly enough to look around the otherwise quiet room sheepishly.

“I think this place is juuust a little too fancy for us.” He’d lifted his fingers, holding them close together as he smiled, and suddenly you were back in the basement where you’d met. Your waiter delivered two plates of delectable looking food, then. You both thanked him, studied your plates, and dug in. Your food tasted even better than it smelled, and you assumed Alex felt the same as he chewed slowly with a blissful glaze over his eyes.

“Did you ever get those guns?” He blinked at you, snapping out of whatever higher plane he’d been transported to, utterly lost. “Right before Amsterdam. You said you were this close to getting those guns.” You mimed his pinched fingers, covering your mouth with your other hand. Alex reached up to cover his mouth, too. His shoulders were shaking and he shook his head, swallowing the food he’d been chewing.

“Where did that come from?” he chuckled. You made a face at him and reached across the table to pinch his nose, which only earned you an undignified snort.

“This!” You tapped your fingers together in a hyperbolic imitation of the gesture. Alex was full-blown laughing now, covering his mouth with a linen napkin and trying to quiet himself. He nodded, snickering into his wrist as he lowered his hand

“Yes, angel, I got the guns.”

You grinned at him. “See? How hard was that? Now your turn, tell me about your day.”

He shook his head, still smiling, and held up a finger for you to wait while he finished the last of his meal. You took advantage of the pause in conversation to finish your own food, leaning slightly back in your chair as you pushed your plate away.

“Good?” He asked. You nodded, patting your belly.

“So good.”

“Dessert?”

“Gosh, no,” you chuckled. “I don’t think I could even split something with you right now.”

“Good, neither could I.” He made a little cutting gesture across his throat to someone over your shoulder, and you turned to see the maître d’ nod in your direction. “Business was good,” Alex began. He’d taken the day off in order to sort through the last of the details of moving in with you. “Got all my paperwork done with my leasing office, got my address changed for all of my bills, canceled the internet, hit the DMV, all of that.” Alex stood as your waiter approached, pulling his wallet and an envelope out of his pocket.

He set the envelope on the table while he fished out his card for the waiter, exchanging it for a bottle of champagne with two flutes.

Your heartbeat sped.

“Are we celebrating something?” you asked, barely concealing the quaver in your voice.

Alex flashed a grin at you as he opened the bottle, pouring you a flute. “Gosh, I hope so,” he mumbled. Before you could question it, he handed you a flute and the envelope. “Open it,” he said softly.

Your heartbeat had slowed considerably. Whatever this was, it wasn’t what you’d expected from that opening. You squashed the pang of disappointment you felt. It’s too early for that you told yourself. You didn’t believe it.

Regardless, this had to be something huge. Alex didn’t make a big deal out of nothing. Whatever was inside, he’d already seen. The envelope had been opened. You pulled out a bundle of papers, unfolded them, and promptly dropped them to cover your mouth with both hands.

“Alex?” you whispered. Tears were already filling your eyes. He nodded.

“Laswell approved it. It’s conditional upon my acceptance, though. I told her I’d have to talk to you first. Comes with a bit of a paycut.”

You were shaking your head violently, already moving toward him with arms outstretched. “Oh, Alex,” you sobbed. “Alex, my Alex, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter, you’re going to be home. Oh, Alex.” You were weeping now, waves of relief and gratitude coursing through your veins.

He chuckled low, pressing his lips to your ear. “You’re saying my name so much it’s almost like we’re in bed,” he whispered. You hit his shoulder, face flushing as you sputtered. He laughed deep in his chest, squeezing you a little tighter.

You hadn’t even known Alex had filed for a departmental transfer. You hadn’t even looked yet at what it was. You let go of him with one hand to scrabble for the paper, lifting it to eye-level.

Language officer, operating out of Langley in Washington D.C.

Alex breathed a laugh as you held onto him for dear life. “You know, I was hoping you’d be a little happier,” he teased. You smacked his shoulder lightly again, laughing a watery laugh and fumbling for a napkin to wipe your face. He let you go and picked one up, turning back to you and suddenly looking quite nervous.

“But,” he said shakily. He wiped his hands down the front of his slacks. “It does make me feel a little more confident doing this.” He reached into his jacket.

And he dropped to one knee, withdrawing a black velvet box.

Your heart stopped.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Alex had squeezed his eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. He opened his eyes and breathed out your name.

“I never imagined myself falling in love. I thought I was going to be on my own for my whole life, and I was okay with that. Until I met you.” He opened the box and you let out a sob, covering your mouth again. The ring was two slim, twined bands- a black gold string of barbed wire and a white gold shoelace- with a sparkling diamond nestled between them. Alex looked down at it. His voice was low, solemn. “You wrapped me around you so fast it made my head spin. Now, I can’t imagine life without you.” He leveled you with an intense look. “I don’t want to imagine life without you.

You were nodding vigorously, and he chuckled softly, eyes shining. “What are you saying yes for? You have no idea what I’m about to ask, I could want you to join a cult. Just calm down.”

You laughed, all progress toward putting yourself together hopelessly lost. You were a blubbering mess; shaky, tear streaked, the whole nine yards.

Alex’s face softened as he looked up at you with such adoration that it might break your heart. The roots beneath your skin had overgrown your whole skeleton, every organ. There were nothing but blooms in your body, now- bright, white, sweet flowers.

“There’s nothing I could ever do to earn your love. But if you let me, I will dedicate my life to just that. Will you make me the absolute happiest, luckiest man in the world and be my wife?” You hadn’t stopped nodding, and you whispered “yesyesyesyesyes” as you launched yourself forward. True to form, you stumbled along the way. Alex, being Alex, was ready for you, anticipating your clumsiness. He laughed, the best laugh you’d ever heard from him and suddenly you realized that the whole restaurant was cheering and clapping and calling out encouragement as he lifted you off the floor and spun you around.

You kissed him, and felt him smile against your lips. He set you down just long enough to pull the ring from the box, sliding it onto your finger with ease.

“How did you know...?”

“I… may have taken the USB ring from Amsterdam.”

You looked at him incredulously. He gave a rueful smile.

“Call me a dreamer,” he murmured. Just a trace of nerves tinging his voice. You took his hand in yours, raising it to your lips.

“I’ll call you anything you want, so long as I can call you mine.”

The grin that split his face was instant and wide. “That was so, so cheesy.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning up toward him. “You love it.”

“I love you,” he whispered. He pulled you close, kissing you breathless, people be damned.

The lilies that had grown to cover your skin all reached up for him as he did.

#nightingale writes #cod #cod mw19 #alex keller #alex keller x reader #alex keller cod

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abybweisse · 3 months

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Ch210, Spoiler page and thoughts

The title page has been leaked already; I've seen it elsewhere here as well as on Discord. It's almost everything I was hoping for this chapter, represented in one image.

There are some things to point out, and I was hoping to post some thoughts before I'd even seen this spoiler, because my thoughts were already pondering a possible situation like this: that the chapter focuses on Finny going berserk... perhaps in ways we've never witnessed before.

I was also hoping we'd get the new reaper confronting Doll, but I really don't know if he will.

But back to Finny. In the cover art, you will see that there's a lot of blood on him and his clothes, but I don't think it's his own blood. His eyes suggest he's in berserker mode. I suspect we might finally get a better glimpse of what it was like the day he escaped from the drug facility. Previously, I'd wondered whether Sebastian had killed the staff and just skipped over the one remaining test subject -- either he lives or he doesn't. But since we now have a situation where Finny has to force his way out of another locked down facility -- and this time he's also trying to save friends and other children, something he couldn't do last time -- we might get scenes that look like a reenactment of that drug facility escape.

In ch209, we see Finny running off, away from Snake but also towards the approaching staff. We know he will have to fight them, and it might be mostly empty-handed. This is no problem for him, especially when he's in a frenzy. He might grab and throw whatever he can, but this time it might be more about crushing people with his hands, as he might have done at the drug facility. This fighting style could look more like Sebastian crushing the heads/bodies of bizarre dolls on the ship... but with less-graceful movements.

Scenario: He gets through the staff that have entered the underground lair, then anyone in the way upstairs, in the barn. Then he's back outside. Is he going to head to the main building to attempt to save the other kids, or will he only be able to focus on himself and the four top students? Either way, at some point he's going past a brick wall when lights shine on him, and that's what we see in the cover art. It might be a flashlight/torch, but it could also be a spotlight from a sniper tower. The top students did warn him before that the fences were reinforced, and that guards were stationed at lookout posts to shoot down attempting escapees.

When he was at the drug facility, he was being kept in a cellar of some kind, and it looks like it was designed so the kids couldn't easily climb out, but he somehow did, perhaps by jumping and grabbing hold of the rim of the hatch. Or maybe he somehow climbed up whatever grips he could reach. It seems he killed the man sent to shoot him and dumped his body down into the cellar. Here, Finny might actually climb up one of those lookout towers, kill the guards, and toss them down to the ground. Or he kills them -- maybe one -- merely by tossing them down.

This sort of action could allow Yana-san to give us glimpses of the previous escape in parallel to the escape scene now. Panels next to each other or even split panels, showing then and now, as it all unfolds. A bit like when he envisioned old scenes of the drug facility exam rooms and surgical equipment as he and the others looked around and found Ginny's body and the dissection table. But this time it might be like an onslaught of comparison images, representing the jumble of memories and current moments in Finny's head, as this all happens.

And we might even see him literally tear down the fencing. 🤔

Thoughts?

Oh, and FYI. Today is the Ides of March... and Snake's birthday (though in-universe it's Dec 9th)....

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #ch210 #black butler spoilers #kuro spoilers #kuroshitsuji spoilers #spoilers #finny #finnian #fol orphanage #orphanage #title art #title page #observation #thoughts #mar 15 2024 #ides of march

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duskyashe · 2 years

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NaNoWriMo Day #11

[masterlist]

Today's prompt isn't a Harry Potter one like I said it would be yesterday, but that's because I'm sick and writing makes my head hurt (⁠٥⁠↼⁠_⁠↼⁠) so instead, I grabbed one of @stealingyourbones prompts off the @batpham-discord-highlights server and ended up drawing it! Now, for it to count per my own rules, I have to write something to go with it, so I will, but it will be short (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ

=============‹«⟨·‹·‹·•·›·›·⟩»›=============

Jason didn't set out to adopt two traumatized teens with super powers, but then, he'd come to realize that Bruce, for all his faults, had been the same way. The difference was, Jason refused to fail his sons the way Bruce had failed his own kids. While Jason's new biggest fear was turning out just like either of his fathers, his kids constantly reassured him he was doing pretty well.

He did his best to train his kids, both in and out of suit, helped them with their homework, and made sure they spent time being kids instead of fighting crime (if Captain Marvel suddenly started taking more days off from the League, well, the big three could only feel relief). He also did his best to keep his kids off the Bat's radar, at least until they were both sixteen and could use their powers competently in either of their forms. He'd almost succeeded in that last one when a mass Arkham breakout had called for all hands on deck. He had tried to leave his kids behind, but Danny and Billy were insistent. Thus, Hood's Ravens, named after Odin's own raven companions, Hugin and Munin, took flight through Gotham.

Through the mission brief and the first part of the roundup, Hugin and Munin stuck close to Red Hood, keeping their powers mostly under wraps. They were doing surprisingly well in such a large scale mission, in Jason's opinion. Sure, they'd both had previous experience with fighting large groups or for long periods separately, the kind of teamwork they were displaying, working as two parts of a whole, brought Jason a sense of pride. He'd been the one to teach them that, after all.

Suddenly, Babs let out a frustrated growl over comms. "I just lost connection to half the cameras in the city, I'm nearly as blind as you guys. You're going to have to do this the old fashioned way until I can figure out what happened," she said.

Jason shared a look with his sons and sighed, silencing whatever protest or reassurance the others were flooding the comms line with. "You two sure about this?" He got twin nods. "Alright. You know the rules. Stay out of sight, don't engage if you don't have to. Hugin, you take East side, Munin, you take West side. Go." Both boys were suddenly airborne, one flying East and the other flying West. He watched them fly for a bit before getting back to work. He trusted them to follow his rules and to know their limits. They could do this.

Soon, nearly identical voices were feeding real time information directly to the bats, each raven playing the role of "eye in the sky" surprisingly well for fifteen year olds. They directed the closest free bat or bird to problem areas, they rescued trapped or injured civilians, and most of all, they listened to any suggestions or corrections Babs gave them and adjusted accordingly. Jason was so unbelievably proud of his sons, he was fit to burst from it all. He couldn't understand how Bruce had never buried them all under mountains of praise if he'd ever felt even half as proud of his bats and birds as Jason was of his ravens in that moment.

Eventually, things calmed down enough that Jason wasn't exactly surprised to sense the big man himself dropping onto the roof behind him. Jason let Bruce watch him as he continued to watch his sons flying over and through the city, giving directions and helping when needed. They stood there like that for a few minutes before Jason sighed. "What is it, old man?"

"Those kids, Hugin and Munin. Who are they."

Jason felt the pit rise up at Bruce's tone, feasting on the riot of pride, anxiety, joy, fear, and anger. He wondered if the green he was seeing was real or imaginary as he turned to look over his shoulder at his adoptive father. "Those are my sons," he growled.

=============‹«⟨·‹·‹·•·›·›·⟩»›=============

There (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）I hope that satisfies! It's only thanks to ibuprofen that I was able to get through writing that much, so thank you modern pharmaceuticals ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

Whether or not Danny and Billy are actually related (ie long lost twins, cousins, clones, brothers really close in age) or just doppelgangers is up to the reader, but the point is they're practically identical when just standing next to each other, but suit them up as Red Hood's Ravens, Hugin and Munin, they're indistinguishable until one goes invisible and the other starts shooting spells at things. In fact, Danny and Billy regularly "switch" who is Hugin and who is Munin. They usually discuss beforehand who is going to be who for a given period of time, but sometimes one of their power sets is better suited for a situation and they'll switch on a dime. Of course, this is only possible because their suits are identical in every way, being based heavily on Dick's Nightwing costume (specifically the Young Justice version) with red ravens on their chests instead of the bat on Jason's. Neither has a preferred weapon to deal with as they're both hand to hand fighters when they're not using their powers (Danny's ecto/ice blasts and Billy's spells), either. They do both still show up as their first alter egos, Phantom and Captain Marvel, fairly regularly, but Jason ensures they get plenty of rest and down time while still doing their school and homework.

I might have more to add later, but I'm drowning in snot and the ibuprofen is trying to wear off, so I'm going to leave it there. If anyone wants to continue this, please let me and @stealingyourbones know so we can enjoy it, too! (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

Have a good morning/day/night!

#danny phantom #batman #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp crossover #fanfic #dp au #nanowrimo 2022 #NaNoWriMo Day 11 #sorry for not having more dialogue #or showing more of Danny and Billy #I've been sick for three days now and it's the worst #hopefully tomorrow will be better #no fun tags today #sorry lol #i'm tired #have fun with this

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bananasfosterparent · 2 months

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I'm gonna be real, I'm very worried that Larian is going to try & make AA even more overtly the "bad choice" in their next patch (they promised some epilogue animations). I just really don't understand why the antis have to be so obnoxiously loud telling a company to change THEIR game because of a way they choose to interpret something. Isn't the whole point of an RPG that you're allowed to craft a narrative around the narrative-- but to pressure the writers into editing their hard work because they "don't like it" is just so,,,,..ugh

I just wish people would stop infantilizing the crap out of Astarion as a character. They give him all these sweet HC when half of them are just Wyll.. Like the "I can fix him" complex has rotted our society

Honestly? I'm not worried about it at all.

Mostly because I don't think Larian cares lmao At least, not in that way.

Get ready, it's 1am, I had my meds, and had some caffeine, so here comes ramble :D

They want to please their fans, and while spawn fans make up a majority of the Astarion side of the fandom, and there may be (speculated) peices in place to make AA seem worse in-game with these updates....I honestly don't think Larian as a whole cares enough to join in on the one-sided righteousness battle.

They made this game for the purpose that most AA fans (at least, ones I know) use it for: roleplaying, as you pointed out. And I'm very sure they aren't blind to just how one-sided the discourse is.

For example, on the official Larian Discord server, AA fans voiced their opinion on the Tav/Durge expressions in the new AA kisses. And from what I saw, the opinions were presently respectfully and with the roleplay experience in mind. How the expressions aren't ideal for evil roleplay. But after that, the same suggestions thread got clogged with anti-AA players begging Larain to "not destroy the narrative" they've apparently been telling and to not listen to us "delulu" AA fans. And the threads were locked by a mod and cleaned up, to "prevent bullying". I think Larian sees clearly who is focused on quality of roleplay and who is focused on arbitrary arguments.

Because the evil endings aren't supposed to be satisfying to those who don't play them. They aren't supposed to be a moral lesson to the player. It's not that meta (no matter how some people want it to be). It's not that type of game. The evil endings are supposed to be satisfying for those who enjoy playing those endings.

It's supposed to be a different experience. Empty and lonely, sure! But it's still meant to be rewarding for the player. Otherwise, it would be pointless to offer as a roleplay style.

I don't think Larian anticipated so many of us would prefer playing evil like this. I think the idea was for it to be a thing you do after you get bored of playing a few good solo runs. It also doesn't make any sense to spend time and money on an ending, just to slap the player on the wrist for choosing it. They see from the stats how often people make certain choices. People play evil in this game for a lot of reasons, but one big one is because it's just good, devious fun! And without any actual, real world consequences. And I think they see that more than anything. I assume you're also talking about the new evil ending updates?

This phrasing from the first article I saw about it is promising to me that these updates will be satisfying for those who actually enjoy playing/romancing evil--as a positive dark romance and not as some abusive romantic tragedy.

I hope "satisfying narrative conclusions" means that the player can enjoy it for their roleplay. And doesn't just mean the endings are rounded out, but the player gets "punished" in the end. I mean, what are you being punished for exactly? Having fun? SERIOUSLY. Any anti-AA fans lurking the tag care to explain exactly WHY you want people to be punished for playing evil in a video game? I really don't get that. And I don't think Larian cares to do that to their consumers.

Truthfully... I'm hoping the new evil ending fixes will fix Minthara's bugs for one thing. But I also am hoping that it will give us some good AA content. I don't even want to speculate... I'm just gonna wait and see!

AND YES. The infantilization of Astarion and the whole concept of "oh what a cute helpless silly lil bby gorl who needs saving from himself, must be protected and shown who he should be because my Tav/Durge knows best for someone they barely know who's a different creature from them entirely" is...just...

They want a mix of Wyll and Gale but with Astarion's face, voice, and body.

#so many people write Spawnstarion as Wyll/Gale in Astarion's body and AA as Cazedor 2.0 lmao BOTH are OOC.#ascended astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #ask #anon ask

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olderthannetfic · 7 months

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Next on silly fandom drama:

A discord server I'm in has been having some drama and I just don't get what the issue is AT ALL.

So, currently, there is a general NSFW channel for all NSFW content and a NSFW channel specifically for fandom content like fic writing and brainstorming.

The general one barely gets used while the fandom one has become sort of a hub for anything and everything sexual, even if it's not related to fandom. It's also where many SFW conversations take place now, and the rest of the server is a bit dead, so if people want to be on the server and participate, they can't really effectively set boundaries between SFW and NSFW content. The server wasn't originally intended to be mainly a NSFW server and in fact we have people as young as 14 on the server.

I'm not an anti (and no one on the server is, we've all been pretty explicitly proship before) and I don't want to stop these discussions happening but it gets a bit uncomfortable for even me at times, with people asking and answering questions about their personal sex lives and kinks rather than about the fandom we share.

Someone anonymously suggested that we separate out the channels again so more personal stuff could go in the general one and the fandom one could be kept for fandom related stuff, which I and a few other people thought was a really good way of dealing with it, because it wasn't asking anyone to stop talking about it, just allowing people who were uncomfortable with it to mute the channel.

The DRAMA that ensued. Three of the main people who were sharing the sort of more personal stuff took this as a personal attack and starting going on about how this suggestion was violating their safe space, they thought other people should just take "mental health breaks" from the channel, and they had to leave the server to recover.

Anyway, then people started bending over backwards to apologize and decided that we shouldn't separate the channels, or they should be separated into fics and art channels (solving no one's problems whatsoever). The people who reacted viciously against the idea of separating them are now freezing out all the people who messaged in support of separating them and it's all just getting a bit ridiculous (very high school IMO).

Mostly I think it's kind of funny that grown adults are throwing their toys out of the cot over being asked to separate fiction and their real lives, but I genuinely cannot understand what the issue is. No one is being asked to censor themselves?????

Oh anon. Can you really not understand?

They were asked to accept a lower level of attention.

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galactic-knightmare · 1 year

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Yet another Au!

So, I had mentioned a slime rancher au in the bowuigi discord, and soon enough me and a couple others were just brainstorming and slapping it together, and this is (one of) the results!

(also tried a different artstyle. its kinda a mix of my usual style and canon lmao)

So Essentially, the bros move in to their own ranch, and their neighboring ranches being home to Bowser, Peach, and Daisy. Daisy and Peach share a ranch, with Peach usually handling the basic care of the slimes and plants (hence why I gave her a more gardener-kinda outfit) while Daisy usually goes exploring for new slimes. their Neighbor, Bowser, mostly specializes in Boom, Fire, Crystal, and Rock slimes, preferring the more volatile ones since they can’t really do much to him. (he’s still a koopa here, mostly cause I just didn’t want to make him human lmao) He’s also best friends with Peach- no romance there or anything.

He ends up meeting the bros when Mario ends up disturbing his boom slimes somehow (either with extremely loud music or something else). The two end up in an argument and there is Immediate dislike between them. Luigi, knowing how intense and... dense, his brother can be sometimes, decides to come over to Bowser’s ranch and apologize for it, and Bowser ends up thinking “alright, his brother’s not bad, so I guess I can tolerate them being my neighbors” and they just slowly befriend each other over time.

As for the slimes, there’s bits of ideas on those too!

Mario seems to attract literally every cat-like slime in existence. He goes for a nap under a tree and then wakes up under a pile of tabby slimes. You turn your back on him and when you look over again he’s got Hunter slimes all over him. He has a single Saber slime that is his baby and definitely spoiled named Pawline. (I headcanon Mario with a Calico cat named Pawline, so this is her in the au I guess XD) Luigi tends to be swarmed by batty and phosphor slimes, mostly as a reference to the Luigi’s Mansion games, but also because Batty Slimes are cute. They don’t swarm him as much as the cat slimes swarm Mario though. He also has a Yolky Slime named Sunny. When the two first saw Sunny Mario wanted to try and cook them because they looked like a giant egg. thankfully, Luigi said no and took Sunny in (and away from the stove). Sunny usually just sits around in the chicken coops, though every now and then you’ll find them Hiding in Luigi’s hat.

Peach has a bunch of Pink Flutter Largos... I don’t think I need to explain my reasoning there LMAO And Daisy has a bunch of tangle slimes, mostly because she thinks their cool, but also their one of the few plant slimes, and well, plants, flowers, daisies... you get the idea... XD

Bowser, since he’s a koopa and essentially heatproof, just isn’t affected by boom slimes and fire slimes. he’s also too big for a vacpack, so he just. picks up a handfull of slimes whenever he needs to move them around. At one Point Luigi is just. watching, as Bowser moves a bunch of boom largos, completely unaffected by the largos exploding in his arms. We were a bit(?) torn on what to do with the Koopalings and junior? Someone suggested that their a bunch of boom slimes that Bowser babies, though Personally I prefer them still being his kids. Maybe at the start of the au their all on a trip with their grandpa kamek? I just find the idea funny that during their talks, Bowser mentions he has kids to Luigi, but doesn’t mention that he has eight. So when they do get back from their trip, Luigi is just stunned at the sheer amount of kids he has lmao

Anyway yeah, that’s.. essentially it I think. I have other ideas so we’ll see if I make more lmao. I won’t write anything for it though, aside from maybe a oneshot here or there. (though I do think there’s at least one person from the server who is writing a fic for the au. Memory ain’t that great...)

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months

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AITA for not liking my partners partner?

for context, i am polyamorous, as is my partner. we've been dating for a wonderful 3 years, but have been mostly long distance due to uncontrollable circumstances, and so we usually use discord to talk for ease of access. we'll call my partner dean (nb), and my partner-in-law irene (nb)

a few months ago, dean asked me if i minded if they asked irene if they wanted to go out, because its a thing in our relationship where we communicate if we'd like to see another person, and i had said i didnt mind, since i had seen the two interacting briefly before and i thought irene was nice enough

dean has this small discord server in which its me, and a few of their/our closer friends. when they started dating, they obviously added irene to the server and so i saw much more of them and what they're like. they're, like i said, nice enough and a good person to/for dean

but as the post title details, im not the hugest fan of irene. they've done literally nothing wrong for me to feel this way. they've been nothing but friendly whenever we interact, and haven't done anything for anyone to think otherwise, but i just can't stand being around them

the irrational hatred is mainly, i think, because they remind me far too much of how i was and acted years ago and it bothers me a ton. whenever irene enters a conversation i immediately want to leave it or excuse mhself from it. i feel terrible about this fact, ive never told them this and ive tried my best not to hint at it either

dean and i were having a conversation once, a decently deep one when i said i didnt really know irene well, and they suggested irene and i hang out a bit more to change that. i wasnt going to lie to dean, as that wouldve felt horrid, but i did tell them that i didnt think i would enjoy because irene isnt my, "type of person, but i like them for you!". they understood and we continued talking

i still feel really shit about thinking this way about irene, despite the fact theres basically nothing wrong with them for me to feel this way towards them

help, am i being an irrationally nit-picking asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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