#ALLIES TO ENEMIES TO WHATEVER THE FUCK THIS IS I love it

[citrus-cactus]

They're sooooooo catty in this ep I'm love them

[b1rds3ye]

hi!! this is my first time doing a request so idk if I'm doing this right haha but uh, I was wondering if you could do like. yknow the masked one you made for the 141 (I can't remember the name rn💔)? I thought of like, a sequel idea. like, what if during combat an enemy manages to take reader's mask, and so reader panics and like, rips the enemies throat out with their teeth (or if that's too violent, just goes basically rabid on them lmao) and how they would react?? if this is too violent or specific dw you don't have to!! anyways, I love your content it's totally awesome ur writing is amazing! have a good day!!

YES I LOVE THE BADASSERY AND THE UNHINGEDNESS!! If I'm your first request I'm so flattered anon pls do feel free to drop by again <333 Also just going to do general rabidness because ngl the throat thing sounds like an infection speedrun and we want our masked reader to stay nice and healthy <333

Word Count: 1.2 (it got a little long WHOOPS)

Warning: Canon typical violence, reader does get a lil sadistic and unhinged <333

Beyond Task Force 141 and Laswell, many - if not all - allied soldiers wondered about what lay under your mask. Obscuring even the eyes, your visage was more unreadable than Ghost's. Larger than life, a soldier among men.

There was a running joke that there was just nothing under your mask, perhaps an eldritch horror of sorts. You let the new recruits entertain the thought, it kept morale up as they conjured more myths of you. They said that no one has seen you without your mask. They were partially right.

It simply was that no one lived to tell the tale.

You were never one for close combat, but fighting terrorists was never smooth sailing. The chaos of battle had all of the 141 separated against the tight streets of Las Almas. How uncanny that you could not see your allies but hear their gunfire. Running out of ammo, you couldn't lament at your misfortune as a shoulder pummeling into your chest, sending you to the ground and the air out of your lungs. Head bashing against the floor you groaned as you furiously clawed up to whatever heavy weight was crushing your body. You were starting to make up the figure of a man hovering over you through the blurry haze of a concussion that filled your sight. The distant static of Price's voice through the radio, probably asking where the hell were you but you had more pressing issues at hand.

Through your struggle and flailing limbs you managed to wring the enemy's pistol off of them with a painful twist of their wrist. And they retaliated tenfold, a large sweaty hand reaching down and pressing your head back against the ground. Your adrenaline makes you writhe further, he was going to suffocate you, or worse, poison you with how fucking awful his hand smelt as the stink of burning gunpowder replaced any of your oxygen. But no, he committed a far worse crime.

A singular pull and the grating tear of fabric as your mask is pulled off of your face.

A heavy moment where your enemy looks down at you and his gaze is not like before. It's clear, it's deep. It is not looking at your facade but at you and you are no longer a soldier. You are merely a human, so fragile, so weak. One that is on the verge of death in a foreign land surrounded by bodies of fallen comrades and enemies alike. One whose mythos is all but lost at the victorious and leering smirk of an enemy as they take in your face.

That simply won't do.

Pulling your knee up to create space between you and the man, you pull out your tactical knife from your waist and drive it into his torso. His smile falls only to land at settle on yours below him, just like his blood that trickles as forbidden crimson down your hands and seeps into your uniform. It's disgustingly warm. He grows heavier as he loses all control over his body and you heave to throw his figure off to the side. You stab him once again for good measure. And then again. And again. Quick, short jabs down with a sharpened blade that cuts through uniform, flesh and bone alike. You did not count how many times you drove your blade down, numbers were too complex when your mind was running faster than any comprehensible speed. There was only one goal. To make sure no one knows what happened.

A harsh grip on the shoulder yanks you back up and you swipe with your armed limb to cut your new assailant's neck but they were onto you. Catching your arm, they pull it up as they hold onto your shoulder once again with a tightening grip that digs into your uniform. But they do nothing more, no matter how much you thrash and kick.

"Wake up, Sergeant," your opponent seethes and that voice makes you still, a buoy that floats across through your rage. Deep and grounding and your captain's.

You nearly stumble back but Price catches you before you crumple to the ground in exhaustion. The adrenaline was escaping your body leaving you with barely the energy to stay upright. Your head lolls back for a second before you bring it to the side to look at your direct superior, the remnants of a concussion making your vision blurry.

"You broken?" he asks.

"Negative, sir,” you respond immediately but he looks a little doubtful, a singular eyebrow raised as he inspects you. Not your body, but your face. The dilated pupils and the taut muscles told more than any wound.

"Can't say the same about your wee friend over there," Soap whistles as he tilts his head to behind you. “Christ, you did a number on him.”

You dare turn to look over your shoulder but Ghost already situated himself in front of the body. But between his feet you could already make out the indistinguishable mass of tattered fabric and discoloured flesh. Fresh blood filled the rivets between the cobblestones, the remnants of the body inching its way closer to you-

"Was it the mask?" Simon brings your attention back to him. You nod dumbly. He only dips his head in what you can only describe as understanding as he folds his arms, fortifying his stance in front of the mess you made. You weren’t going to see your handiwork, he was too kind to ever let you.

John drops his hands down to his sides as Gaz approaches you with your mask.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," Kyle offers you a sympathetic smile.

"Learnt that the first day I saw 'em on duty," Johnny retorts and you instinctively smile as you take your mask from Kyle. The hardened plaster of your mask had cracked, the fabric that hugged your neck had become torn but it'll do for the remainder of the mission. Slipping the mask back on, Simon offers a nod of approval while Johnny tugged at the fabric for a few finishing touches.

Ultimately the mission was successful. The task force returns to base and although none of the boys mentioned the carnage you left, there are still whispers of it on base. You had hurried to debrief and get your mask fixed but it seemed some privates caught sight of you and that was enough to spark rumours. Your mask had gotten so fractured that a shard was left back in the streets of Las Almas and revealed one of your eyes to the rest of the world. Such a small organ but so vivid. The privates saw, and more was added to the myth that was you. There was now no question about what was under the mask. No lovecraftian horror or empty space, no monster beyond comprehension. No, what was under your mask was terrifyingly human.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[rewrittenwrongs]

Having thoughts about the League of Assassins. It’s pretty common among them to form hierchy/ranking around who’s a better fighter and who beat/killed who. I can’t remember if it’s canon but I like the idea that to prove your teacher has taught you all they have to teach you must kill them (not sure how that applies to history/math/whatever but. Moving on.) Working off of that idea, a lot of assassins in the organisation would already respect Tim for causing the death/defeat of the Council of Spiders; assassins that are so skilled they kill other assassins for fun. Him then TRICKING RA’S AL GHUL AND BLOWING UP (almost??) ALL OF HIS BASES, AND THEN OUTSMARTING HIM AGAIN WHEN HE TRIES TO DESTROY EVERYTHING BATMAN HAS BUILT, I feel like it’s reasonable to assume a lot of them would’ve decided Tim is the bigger threat or at least proved himself very formidable and a large threat. I imagine a lot of them would’ve sought him out in Gotham and pledged loyalty to him (kind of like Minions seeking out the evilest leader thanks for that thought brain), maybe doing full on traditional rituals to prove the transferring of their loyalty, like blood oaths or ritual spars idk, maybe giving him gifts or displaying their skills so he accepts them as allies rather than being disrespected and killing or maiming them since that’s the standard they expect in the League.

And Tim is uh. Very confused. Very surprised. And also trying hard not to show it. He accepts all the gifts and pledges and shit, because he sure as fuck ain’t gonna turn them back to Ra’s, but after that he doesn’t really know what to do with them. He hires a bunch of them at Wayne Enterprise and Drake Industries, tasks a bunch of them with working for Red Hood on the down low, maybe sends a couple on undercover missions to Arkham Asylum so they start treating inmates as actual human beings and stop using shock therapy or something, and makes sure to write them all up fair contracts and great pay with good work bonuses and plenty of leave, and makes sure most or all of them start going to therapy. The assassins love their new leader and would do practically anything for him.

But anyway, all that aside. I’ve had those thoughts in my head for more than a month. Something that just recently occurred to me is Mara al Ghul. Damian’s cousin. Another child raised by the League of Assassins, only this one never left.

Until, that is, she watches this freshly-immunocompromised vigilante arguably outsmart her grandfather twice, and decides he is the bigger threat, actually, I want to be on his good side when he takes over the world.

So now Tim is being forced into basically adopting this feral child, who’s only experience in American society was undercover missions to kill people, who thinks decapitated heads are reasonable gifts, who’s introduction to Tim was something batshit insane like dumping the Joker’s head in his lap because the Joker is Gotham’s most dangerous rogue and of course Tim will appreciate having him gone. But even with a well crafted facade she can tell Tim is unnerved and horrified, so she must be doing something wrong. Maybe it was because the Joker is Batman’s enemy and not Tim’s specifically? But Tim doesn’t have any arch nemesis aside from maybe Ra’s who she obviously can’t kill, so she does more research into Tim’s life and background and finds out Captain Boomerang killed his father so next she brings Tim HIS head and she can already tell he’s much more pleased this time. But there’s still that edge of unsettlement and wariness, and he’s acting so strange around her, so she digs deeper and finds out about the Titans Tower incident but Tim sent all these other assassins to work for red hood so they must be on good terms, and then she finds out about all the bad blood between him and Damian and Dick so she starts trying to kill them next, starting with Damian obviously (a mix of jealousy over him leaving the league and a good amount of cousin rivalry/cain instinct), but Tim stops the fight and tells her to stand down and now she’s scared that he’s going to punish her and Ra’s’ punishments were always so harsh and perhaps this time she can’t quite fight down the urge to hide.

Meanwhile, Tim is being dragged through a parent arc kicking and screaming, the bats are wondering why the hell there are suddenly so many assassins only after they scare off Ra’s, Jason is more or less vibing because he thinks the assassins are from Talia and the Joker’s dead so of course he’s ecstatic (even tho he wishes he knew who did it so he can thank them), Dick and Damian are still reeling from learning Bruce is alive/getting him back from the time stream when all of a sudden this masked child comes out of nowhere mid patrol and attacks Damian, and isn’t backing down even though Dick arrived quickly but when Red Robin arrives and yells stop she’s already three rooftops away by the time he’s done speaking. Everyone is tired and doesn’t know what the hell is going on except mayybe Oracle.

[la2yn0va]

Hello there! Can I request some yandere Black Swan, Acheron, Jingliu and Kafka (self aware) x male reader who is single and has absolutely no experience in relantionship yet is down bad for them or has an interest for them

Call me crazy… I get a feeling you like women…

————

Black Swan

She automatically knows you like her. She feels your eyes looking down at her softly, the same way others look at her when they found her attractive.

And she is a bragging bitch about it. “Oh, his grace built you? Couldn’t be me~ he maxed me out immediately~”

She finds your inexperience down right adorable. The way you stutter at least thrice when she’s in your vision. The way your eyes shine when she talks.

When you eventually get dragged into the world of Honkai Star rail, she lets go of all restrains. With no shame she flirts with you EVERY SEXTILLION SECOND.

She makes sure your a flustered and blushing mess, rubbing against you so your hand grazes her chest area.

Getting close enough to make sure her breath attacks your neck and the her lips tickle your skin, while whispering provocative things into your ear.

She always steals you away from people any chance/time she gets/wants to. After all, you LOVE her right~? There’s no issues with acting as you girlfriend (unofficial)

Just to make sure no one interferes in your little sessions, she goes into glass paintings/objects with you (in her trailer she goes into things like glass paintings)

Her hands are always on you in some manner, weather it be romantically around your neck or your arms, or in a more sexual manner.

In short, black swan takes the lead in this relationship

Acheron

She’s pretty confused on why you’re acting different with her at first. However, after a few moments/after encountering firefly and the trailblazer on their ‘date’ she’d finally realize you LIKE her.

She acts more shy whenever your around her, she doesn’t really know how to interact with you. More so because she doesn’t know how to… react to your feelings.

Yes she loves you back, but she’s never had a crush/lover so she’s as lost and inexperienced as you.

Although others are jealous of her, they also find it pretty fucking cute, and make a whole ‘will they or won’t they’ game show.

In battle acheron will always crit for you, and when in idle she compliments you subtly. She doesn’t wanna scare you away.

The ancient scrolls say you believe their video game characters. so she’ll hide her time until you finally get transferred back here, to your real home AND to her.

And when you do get isekai’d by whatever fuckin means, I’d like to congratulate you, as you now have earned a VERY FUCKING SCARY GUARD DOG.

Acheron doesn’t leave your side for a second (unless you ask her to in which case she’ll stand BEHIND you. Or if your in the bathroom)

Acheron quickly learns how to show her love towards you through acts of service, words of affirmation, and physical touch.

She likes to hold your hand, and with no shame likes to proclaim to everyone that the two of you are an item. Which you don’t deny.

Acheron takes the lead in the relationship

Jingliu

The most normal about your attraction to her.

She’ll be honored that you love her, and shows it through ALWAYS crit damaging enemies and taking less health from her allies.

While in idle she’ll (like everyone else) will say a unofficial voiceline towards you, complimenting you and slightly hinting that she knows she’s a ‘video game character’

Another unofficial thing she’ll do while in idle is remove her blindfold and stare into your eyes lovingly YET respectfully.

When you get transferred into the game, it’s basically the same as acheron. But she’s more open and well normal about your relationship.

She’s slightly overprotective and possessive but that’s about it. She spends all her time by your side, weather it be in bed (get yo mind out the gutter) or IN bed (put it back in the gutter) or simply walking/exploring other planets.

She shows her love through..well everything. Acts of service, physical touch, gift giving, etc…

Overall not much to say here, she’s the most normal and a less scary (when not Mara-struck) acheron.

No one takes the lead, yall just switch leading roles every other day.

Kafka

Kafka is also very similar to black swan.

She immediately knows you love her, and she takes pride in it, after all who doesn’t? (Kafka’s the type to make gay men question themselves, as I myself can NOT attest to 😉)

Unlike her fellow…acolytes, she’s much more suave and blunt about her knowledge on your attraction. After all, your so adorable and cute for the god of gods (or as I like to refer to the reader who’s a god in self aware au—THE OMNI AEON)

In idle, she pulls out a blurry photo of your and kisses it while staring right at you. It’s blurry to you but VERY visible to kafka.

She’s also the only person in this who’ll outright state she knows she’s in a game and loves you (like sues in that one episode of gravity falls with his A.I yandere love)

Overall there’s nothing else to add here, she’s just another black swan when it comes to this scenario. OH wait no!

She uses her webs to manipulate you to dance gracefully with her and makes you touch her body while feigning innocence and teasing you.

She takes the lead in the relationship.

Okay I’m done. 4 or 5 more requests to finish

[cryptocism]

Since I think about clones like I’m getting paid for it, I've been rotating those alternate universe "what if Bart and Thad were actually raised together" scenarios in my brain, with Thad either post-redemption-arc or pre-villainy. Because adjusting Thad's character to fit an ally role while still keeping true to his core motives and personality is so so fascinating to me.

Like I think there's an immediate first instinct to slot Thad into a "bad" twin category: ie rebellious and prickly, doesn't get along with people, mean lil shit. And obviously it's not wrong bc we're outside the realm of canon, but the reading still feels a little left of center.

Because Thad is mean and prickly in canon. In the Impulse comics he belittles Bart and Bart’s friends/family constantly in his appearances. He loves to goad, and monologue about his own superiority and intelligence. He’s very Not Nice, and he causes many problems, and he even does it on purpose.

But, I think it’s important to consider the context. From the jump Thad knows very little about anything except which team he’s on and who he’s playing for. He gets his orders from an unseen authority and he carries out his tasks because success means his team wins.

For all his self-aggrandizing talk, everything he does is in service of an end goal that doesn't actually center him. He's trying to get revenge for grievances he's never personally suffered, retribution for actions never committed against him. Everything he does is on someone else's behalf.

Thad sees in black and white, us or them. Up until the final few issues of Mercury Falling, Bart and co. are Thad's enemies, of course he's not going to be nice.

So Thad's motivation seems pretty simple: Thawne Supremacy™.

But it’s in Mercury Falling where this starts to fall apart, and the real core of his motivation gets revealed. Thad pretends to be Bart and suddenly Helen is nice to him. Bart’s friends think he’s funny. Bart’s teachers are impressed with his grades. Max ruffles his hair and gives him hugs and tells him he’s done a good job.

If he was actually an inherently mean and standoffish character, if Thad actually had significant personal stake in the Thawne VS Allen conflict, the weight of such tiny acts of kindness wouldn’t completely break him the way that it does in canon.

Thad thinks his goal is superiority and revenge and Thawne Supremacy™, but he's chasing validation. Thad doesn’t have a personal stake in the Thawne VS Allen conflict. He wouldn't get much satisfaction if he actually destroyed Bart and his family. Thad's personal victory would be the recognition after the fact: the praise and attention from the other Thawnes (a group of people he has literally never met) for his success.

He wants validation. That's basically it. And the fact that he gets it so easily from Bart's family and friends doesn't align with how he's told himself things are supposed to work.

Actually tangentially, Bart and Thad’s respective relationships to authority is so diametrically opposed and tbh kind of subversive in a superhero narrative. Where the hero is the one carving his own path without regard to social or societal rules, no fucks to give what anybody thinks of it. And the villain is a chronic people-pleaser.

Just based on Thad’s reaction to simple praise and affection from Max I really think Thad’s motivation has more to do with the response he gets than whatever the details are of any given task. He has no actual personal convictions beyond getting positive attention, and whatever he did have crumbled as soon as Bart’s friends laughed at his joke one time. Which of course leads into the core of his whole conflict at the end of Mercury Falling. He cares too much about Bart’s friends and family now, he doesn’t want to kill them, but worse than that, he’s faced with the sudden realization that he’s on the wrong side.

The Allens gave Thad everything he actually wanted and needed, but his conception of himself is inexorably tied to the Thawnes: who gave him jack shit. These two facts are in opposition to each other, and he can’t reconcile the reality of it.

Anyway all this to say, in an AU where Bart and Thad are raised together or Thad gets an actual redemption arc etc etc, I think my personal take on Thad’s personality whether it be pre-or-post-villainy would be one that is extremely socially conscious. He is much more of a people-person than Bart. Whether he's actually accurate in assessing people's feelings and how to respond to them can be hit or miss, but he wants to behave in a way that gets people to like him.

Pretending to be Bart isn’t remarked upon as, like, a difficult task for Thad. In his internal monologue he’s literally bragging to himself about how easy it is. But what’s especially notable to me is where his act differs from Bart's typical MO. Everyone notices, and lots of people comment, and presumably if Thad didn’t have the excuse of Max’s illness to “motivate” Bart to do better he would’ve been found out immediately. And those things are, specifically: paying attention in class, doing his chores, staying on task, and being helpful around the house. The one thing about Bart he chooses not to emulate is Bart’s rebelliousness.

Thad wants to prove himself, constantly, to whatever authority he respects (probably Max in this scenario) and will do whatever it takes to make that happen. In contrast to Bart, who only listens to authority when the shit they're saying actually makes sense to him. It’s excessively difficult to convince him to go against his own interests. (And I think a key part of that is Bart’s security in knowing that no matter how much he fucks up or doesn’t listen, the people he loves will always love him back.)

Thad’s got the people-pleaser in him that has to deserve whatever he’s given. It’s why he’s happiest when he’s given a clear goal or objective to complete, because it gives him an opening to prove himself.

All this to say that if we are quantifying Bart and Thad as a "good" or "bad" twin, in the eyes of every authority: Bart is the bad twin. Bart is the bad twin, Bart is the bad twin. Bart is the one who doesn’t care about school and whose grades vary wildly depending on his personal interest. He’s the one who goes off to do dangerous shit for fun and gets in trouble constantly and doesn’t do his chores and is thoroughly unconvinced by any authority figure trying to sell him bullshit. 

Thad is the one who needs to know all the rules just so he can experience the joy of following them. Relentlessly obedient. He'll put all his effort into doing all the right things that’ll endear him to whoever he wants to impress - meaning he’s the asshole who reminds the teacher about the assigned homework. Bart might be the most popular boy in school, but Thad is a pleasure to have in class.

Like Thad can (and should) still be high-strung and short-tempered and sarcastic and edgy and mean, because he is. But he can’t be doing all that without rhyme or reason. Colouring every interaction has to be that one-zero binary of ally or enemy. He needs to have somebody he’s proving himself to: a team he’s on and a team he’s against. He’s not an inherently rebellious character. He can go up against The Enemy, whoever he deems as such, but it has to be in service of a hypothetical future in which somebody eventually tells him he did a great job.

And in the interest of continuing to beat a dead horse, it connects to their respective upbringings. Thad and Bart were both raised in VR, but Bart’s experience had the side effect of basically hard-wiring him against insecurity. His world was a playground tailor-made for him, and he was never made to feel bad or insufficient about any aspect of himself. His first interaction with a real human person was Iris moving heaven and earth to save him, without him knowing her, without her knowing him, with no reasoning for the act needed beyond Being Her Grandson. Which is probably a significant factor in why Bart moves through the world with frankly atomic levels of autistic swag.

Thad’s VR upbringing installed self-consciousness in his psyche before any other personality trait. As in: he is immediately made conscious of himself and his relationship with everyone he will ever encounter. He’s told two things: he’s a clone of someone else (inherently derivative, lesser) and that he was made to be superior (a status to achieve). Which is such an instant clarifier for Thad’s everything. Where superiority is a condition that everyone either has, or does not. It’s the one-zero binary again: are they better than me or am I better than them. Being above others is mandatory, and if his superiority is ever challenged by hard evidence or god forbid nuance Thad’s brain physically cannot take it. He needs to be better, to be worse is unthinkable, and there is no other way to be.

And this status of better or worse is, crucially, not up to Thad to decide. He needs The Authority to validate him. Bart never tries to prove himself because he has nothing to prove. Thad’s entire identity hinges on the self-worth he gets from doing a Good Job.

It is such an inherent part of his motives in the Impulse comics canon, which is why it always feels a little off when he’s interpreted as a jackass indiscriminately.

Like I don't think he needs everyone to like him. But I do think he has either one person or a set of very particular people that he needs to like him. Everyone else is either in that circle or outside of it.

(Which is why Bart is such a great foil for Thad tbh. There is no set of words or behaviors that’ll change Bart’s opinion of Thad, because Bart is unaffected by obedience or charm. So ironically Bart is probably one of few people that Thad doesn’t bother to put on even a little bit of an act for.)

While Bart goes with his instincts, his personal beliefs and convictions at all times, Thad is hyper-conscious of big-picture goals. They balance each other out that way. Thad's keeping track of whatever expectations he has placed on him, and how his actions reflect on him and the team beyond short-sighted solutions. He's a team player. AND he's an asshole.

[therenlover]

Always For A Second (Usually At The Start) - A Helmut Zemo x Reader fic

"And when I imagine life when it's mine / I can try to picture faceless folk to love a thousand times / But always for a second, and usually at the start / You're in the image posing with a cradled beating heart" - Katie Gregson MacLeod, i'm worried it will always be you

Synopsis: Leaving Helmut for good had been the biggest, most final choice you'd ever had to make. Two years later, he's in your living room again. This time, though, things are different.

Tags: Explicit Smut (+18), Exes, Getting Back Together, Enemies to Lovers to Exes to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, Switch!Zemo, Oral (Fem Receiving), Service Top!Zemo, Aftercare, Bucky is Mentioned Too Much

Rating: E (+18) Minors DNI

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 8,600~

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

“I didn’t expect you to come crawling back so soon, schatz,”

The restaurant was crowded enough that nobody heard Helmut’s words, curt and cloying and so fucking familiar. Still, my face heated. It always would for him, no matter how much my common sense protested by body’s reactions. How dare he be so damn effective at getting under my skin? 

Some over-expensive brown liquor sloshed against the rim of the glass in my hand as I lifted it less than gracefully from the table, dribbling down the edge of my mouth as I guided it to my lips and drank deeply. “For one, two years isn’t soon,” I started, swallowing. “Two, you’re the asshole who showed up in my apartment like a robber, which makes you the one who came crawling back. I was just nice enough to let you take me for a free meal to get you the hell out. Three,” I set the glass down sharply, “don’t call me that. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I still haven’t forgiven you,” 

“Apologies,” 

He didn’t mean it. 

“Still, it’s too soon to expect any sort of kindness from you,” he continued, “If I recall correctly, you said you’d rather die than suffer through another night with me for the rest of eternity. I believe an eternity has yet to pass… and yet, here we are,”

His matter of fact tone left little up for debate, unless I wanted to reach for my fork and maim his smug face. Instead, I bit my tongue and swallowed another mouthful of whatever I was drinking.

For once I was glad to be surrounded by the kind of noisy, faceless jumble of humanity that usually made my skin crawl. F. Scott Fitzgerald was on to something with his theories on large crowds and intimacy; there was no better place for two war criminals to meet than the corner booth of a hazy restaurant, lounging and drinking, covered by the blanket of sweet anonymity. Anyone who glanced our way would see two normal human beings sharing a meal in peaceable silence, sharing sparse conversation between bites of this and that. 

They would see lovers.

The thought left a lump in my throat. 

Maybe I looked uncomfortable enough that they would presume, correctly, that we were ex-lovers. I wasn’t hopeful about it, though. 

Helmut noticed, of course, but I knew he would. He had always had an almost supernatural sense for these things, like he could tune into my emotional radio on a frequency I didn’t even fully know myself. Enemy or ally or… otherwise, it was a constant to be seen through and picked apart like carrion. An appetizer for the fights to come. Thankfully, though, he chose to have mercy on me this time in a rare show of respect. Instead of wrapping his lips around another snide comment- even though I could tell it was burning a bitter hole into the tip of his tongue behind his clenched teeth- he chose to pick up a ring of calamari from the plate between us. He held it up to examine the crust in the dim lamplight before placing it delicately against his lips, pulling it from the fork in one bite. Still, he couldn’t be too gracious. Helmut held eye contact as he went.

I could only managed a disgusted sigh but found myself mirrored as his teeth sunk into the squid and his brow furrowed. 

“Bad?” I asked.

He chewed for a good while before managing to swallow the offending clump down, gagging all the way. “Despite my recent diet, that might be the worst thing I’ve eaten in a long while,”

A laugh escaped me before I even knew it was there. “You managed to pick a restaurant where our appetizer is worse than prison food? Serves you right for ordering seafood in the midwest,” 

“I suppose it does.” He nudged the plate towards me with a growing smirk, “See for yourself. I’d hate to see it wasted, and as you said, it is ours. I can’t be expected to finish it alone,” 

As if under the spell of his charisma all over again, I followed his instructions without a second thought. It was just as bad as I anticipated. 

Things were off to a bad start from the moment the tines of my fork hit the batter. The breading seemed to squelch under the pressure, sagging and giving way into meat that was somehow both rubbery and gelatinous, if that was even possible, and if the texture seemed bad outside of my mouth it was even worse inside. Somewhere between its fishy tang and the overly salted batter, there was a bitter, almost sour note that seemed to permeate further with every chew. I spit the macerated glob into my napkin before even attempting to swallow down the remaining spit. 

Across the table, Zemo grinned at my misfortune. “Let’s hope our entrees are less offensive to our palettes,” 

“Fuck off,” I muttered, lips turning up at the edges. 

“You can curse all you want at my poor choice of venue, but I can tell you’re glad you’re the one who ordered the pasta instead of the steak,” 

I went for my glass again, letting the liquor with a name I couldn’t pronounce burn all the way down my throat and into my chest. “I hate that you’re always right, Helmut. Can’t you be wrong, just once? Leave some correctness for the rest of us,” 

Maybe it was the lighting, soft and amber against the dark wood of the table to mask the bloody steaks that would sit below, or maybe it was the music, something old and swinging that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but knew from the radio in my grandmother’s car as a child, or maybe, just maybe, it was the crows feet that popped up around Helmut’s eyes when he smiled that hadn’t been quite so prominent the last time I’d seen him, but no matter the cause, the solid iron wall I had put up around my heart when I walked out of the Baron’s life those two year sago seemed to soften. Weakened, somehow. It was like someone took a blowtorch right to the center of my defenses. Something in me screamed that they had never been all that strong to begin with. 

I only noticed I’d been staring when he looked away, clearing his throat and wiping his thin mouth with the napkin from his lap. 

There went my hand. Helmut, 1. Me, 0… Well, 1, if leaving him those years ago counted for anything, and I refused to believe that it hadn’t. That the blow to his ego hadn’t given me at least a slight upper hand compared to the naive girl I had been in comparison when I first met him. There had been so much good in the world then. 

The silence dragged on as if the structural flaws of my guarded heart could patch themselves up with the defenses created from just a few silent moments between us. That’s all it would take for me to remember all the reasons this would never work: all the pain, the sleepless nights, the snide comments that turned into biting replies that grew into massive, earth-shattering fights that exploded into days or weeks or months living alone in a house with him. One by one, the memories flooded back, reminding me exactly why it had taken me almost two years to find enough peace within myself that I wouldn’t decide to shoot the man in front of me on sight. My heart hardened by the second.

“I saw your concert,” 

I was simultaneously thawed and frozen all over again. “How did you-“ 

“James mentioned it,” 

“You still talk to Bucky?” 

“Here and there,” 

The conversation lapsed into silence. 

He had… been there? I didn’t even bother to think about the talk I’d have to have with Bucky about my privacy, too focused on the more important matter at hand. 

The venue was grungy, a basement bar with a small stage serving the communities aspiring comedians and desperate punk-rock garage dwellers just waiting for their big break. I had barely had the guts to pay the booking fee, though. It was just me, a piano, and my guitar for an hour and a half set of mostly cover songs that had gone better than I’d expected, but hadn’t been anything crazy. The crowd was appreciative and respectful. Several people had left tips, even more giving me a congratulatory clap on the back as I left the building that night, promising to “stream my EP” whenever I released it, despite the fact that I had no plans to do any such thing. Still, I couldn’t imagine that I hadn’t seen his face in the crowd. I couldn’t name what I was feeling as I imagined it; visualized his face on the other side of the smoky room, leaned against the bar with his dark eyes catching hold of mine…

“You came and you didn’t say anything? Not even a hello?” 

Helmut laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “And risk my life over a free concert? No.” He paused, “Despite my tendency to sometimes be… less than kind, I knew it would rattle you to see me. I didn’t want to throw you off before your performance.” 

I didn’t have much of anything to say in response. Instead, I picked at the paper straw wrapper in my lap and tried to look anywhere but in his direction, shoving down whatever was welling up in my chest. He wouldn’t let things go, though. He never could. That was half of why we’d never work. Every time I tried to drop an uncomfortable subject he’d be there to pick it up with a snide comment or two. It was an easy rhythm. Too easy. I had never wanted to fall back into it and yet, here I was, almost excited to snipe his next words down. 

“Cain misses you,” He continued. 

I folded the straw wrapper in my hands, pulling at the crease as I thought about the doberman puppy I had left behind. He would be so big now, as big as the one I’d taken with me was now. My heart ached at the thought. 

“I doubt he remembers me after all this time,” 

“Of course he does,” Helmut’s voice was low. It was almost hypnotic, the way he carried himself. He could fool anyone. I realized, with a sinking feeling in my stomach that couldn’t have been the calamari, he could still fool me. “He’s quite the troublemaker. More times than I can count he’s evaded me in the house, only to be found asleep in your old closet. I think he remembers your scent,” 

“Thats…” I sat quiet for a moment, pursing through choices of words in my mind, mulling over the sharp accented way he pronounced the t in scent, “Sad. Really sad. Makes me wish I could’ve taken them both,” 

“And what of Brutus?”

“He’s good,” A smile crossed my face. “Big, as you saw tonight. I remember when we got them, they told us they’d be 60 pounds at most, but I swear Brutus must’ve snuck in with the rest of those puppies, because he’s massive. Headbutts me every time I walk through the door wondering where I was. He’s a good boy, though. Keeps watch while I sleep, just in case.”

“Just in case I decided to let myself in through the window one night?”

I let myself laugh without judgement this time, reaching for my water. “Looks like it was all for nothing, then. Who knew he’d just let intruders come waltzing in off of the fire escape?” 

“Am I truly considered an intruder in your home?” He asked it as if the answer wasn’t obvious. As if there were any other answer I could possibly give. As if I could’ve wanted him there. His earnestness almost hurt as much as his taunting did, maybe more, because even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, there was a soft ring of truth to his words. 

I took the cowards way out. “I don’t know, what do you think?” 

It was a vulnerability to not give a straight answer, the kind of weak spot that Helmut would catch wind of in an instant before using it to unravel someone piece by piece. Not a no, but certainly not a yes, and the fact that it hadn’t been a resounding yes was enough to glean that maybe, deep down, I wasn’t hating this dinner. He would see through me. Rip me to shreds for the subtle admittance that I hadn’t hated seeing him waiting for me on the couch when I walked through my door, even if I hadn’t expected or wanted him there in the first place. 

I found it was better to lie by omission than to fully lie and let him see through me to the more important truth; For as much as I despised everything about him, I had missed Helmut Zemo. I had missed his stupid expensive taste and the tilt of his stupid head and his stupid shiny white smile. I had missed seeing his coat hung up beside the door and knowing what waited for me inside. It was sick how I had loved him. How I had loved every minute of him picking me apart by the seams and putting me back together. Who could possibly crave their own destruction? Who could live knowing that to be loved was to be deconstructed down to the bone and laid bare as something lesser, something so small compared to the great destroyer I devoted myself to. 

How could he let me live like that if he truly saw through me? 

And that was why I had to leave. 

Loving Helmut Zemo was no way to live. I knew that. I had known that the day I picked up my dog and walked out of our home with nothing but my wallet, car keys, phone, and a polaroid picture of his silhouette. Somehow, I knew that he knew that too. Why else would I move on so suddenly, so sharply, removing every piece of the life we’d built to start myself fresh? A new me, I had said. A new chapter. Yet here I was across from him, shredded bits of paper littering my lap as he puppeteered my heart right back into his arms. 

No. I couldn’t let it happen. 

Not again. 

“Listen, baron,” I didn’t let him answer my rhetorical question. It wouldn’t be wise to let him gain the upper hand again. It wouldn’t be smart to let myself stay weak. “I appreciate dinner. It’s been surprisingly lovely to catch up with you. I’m glad to know you’re not dead, and its great to know Cain is doing well, but I know you weren’t here to tell me that over a plate of mediocre pasta,” 

Helmut smiled, his head in its signature tilt, and swished his own glass a bit. The ice was all but melted giving the liquor an almost clear quality as it diluted. Not a sip had been taken. “Ask the question, schatz,” 

“Why are you here? Why did you stalk me here and break into my apartment when I made it clear that you weren’t welcome in my life?” My words came out so matter of fact even I almost recoiled at them. Not unemotional but detached. 

“Um, who had the chicken alfredo?”

I could feel the blood drain from my face as I looked up at the poor waiter, hot plates in hand, as he took in our table at just the wrong time. Five minutes earlier he would have walked in on polite conversation about the dogs or the shitty appetizers. Now, though, he stood between a man who was known to kill for the things he wanted and me, the one thing he could never have again. 

Surprisingly, though, Helmut waved a hand towards me as I froze. There were none of the usual dramatics, just polite chatter with the waiter as he set my plate in front of me and left Helmut with his, taking the offending calamari plate away with him as he scurried away, surely to tell his coworkers about the crazy exes at the corner table. Helmut didn't even carry on with his answer. He just started tucking in to his steak and potatoes, not sparing me a single glance. If I didn’t know better, if I hadn’t memorized the way his eyes looked in the low light of a restaurant across from me, I would think he’d been replaced by a skrull.

Where was the tearing? The shredding? The utter evisceration of my waiting throat as he drank deeply of my darkest, most shameful thoughts only to spit them out for the world to see. Where was that shame? In the before times, in the times that the two of us had been a we, he never would have paused to mind a waiter. The world would have revolved around him as he laid me bare, no matter who watched or waited in the wings. What changed? 

How had I not noticed his docility until now?

The pasta was decent. It was better than anything I would’ve made at home, at least. I barely thought about it, though, letting my body go through the motions of eating mechanically while my mind went over a million things I could say. What could I say? There was nothing left to. We had gone over every possibility before I had left, at least I thought we had. Whatever we were was dead. That was certain. But what we could be…

I swallowed hard before I could choke on a relatively large piece of broccoli I neglected to chew in my trance. 

Helmut seemed to be in a painfully similar situation. One look at his plate showed a steak cut into tiny pieces. Almost none of it looked eaten, just diced into a pile and shuffled around a bit on the plate to mix with the potatoes, smashed down from their neat ice cream scoop globe and spread with the back of a fork. 

With a sigh, I set down my fork, pasta already forgotten. 

“Lost your appetite?” 

He paused his fiddling with his fork and knife, mirroring me and letting the utensils rest on the table beside his plate. It was odd to see him rattled. Strange to watch his eyes roll up to the ceiling and pause there, as if he was searching for the right words to say. He always knew just what to say to cut the deepest. Maybe it was foreign for him to not want to cut; To find a soft word, instead of a sharpened one. His mouth opened one… two…three times. Open and shut, open and shut. I couldn’t help but hurt for him. The man of many words was finally struck dumb. 

Finally, it came. 

“I’m sorry,” 

I had anticipated a selfish reply, a demand for me to come back and put the past two years behind us, but time had changed him. It had changed us both. He was no longer the man he had been when he was first freed from behind bars, vengeful and biting and so deeply afraid of being alone again, but I was no longer the lost girl I had been either. I did not need to be destroyed to breathe. I could feel tears pricking up in my eyes as he reached a hand across the table to search for my own. It was such a familiar sight in a time of uncertainty. I kept my hands firmly in my lap, though. I would not give him the satisfaction. 

More, I would not give him hope.

“Come home, schatz,”  

There it was. 

I couldn’t hold in the bitter, wet laugh that bubbled up through me, more at my own foolishness than at anything else. He had changed, yes, but some things never would. 

“Helmut,” The word hurt to say. It was altogether both familiar and unfamiliar, covered in a thick layer of dust from time, but nothing could erase the fact that it had once been used over and over, like a prayer, as easy as breathing or saying my own name. “You know I can’t,” 

He let his hand slink back to his side. “I had to try, you know,”

“I know,” The words were a whisper. 

So this was closure? 

The table was quiet. There was no desperation from Helmut’s side, no attempts to sway me or sudden outbursts of resentment. It was almost peaceful. His voice was sad but there was no manipulation in it. We laid our cards of the table as the game we’d played for years finally came to an end. 

“You were right about us, when you left,” he laughed, “I was, as you so aptly put it, a massive ass. I was still so deeply disillusioned about this world and the horrors of it. It was as if everyone around me was just another cog in it all, even you. I thought if I could puppet it all, make things go my way, everything could just be quiet. The horrors would finally stop. The memories would finally stop. I took it too far, though. I took it out on you. For that, I will never be sorry enough,” 

I put up a hand. “Helmut, you don’t have to do this-“

“I want to,”

His voice was delicate but didn’t waver. For the first time I wondered if this was more about what he needed to say than about what I needed to hear. I nodded him on. Without me even thinking about what I was doing, my hand caught his across the table.

“I wanted to run after you the same day you left. I nearly did, too, before I thought better of it. Then I really thought of what you said. What I did. It was then that I decided I had to change for the better, not for you but for myself. Only then would I allow myself to try again. So I did. I spent my time deconstructing the things I had seen and done and finally facing my own demons. I’m not perfect- believe me -but there are many things I have… worked on, for lack of a better word. James was surprisingly helpful throughout it all,” 

“Is that why you’ve been talking?” My thumb stroked over his knuckles, pausing on a scar. 

“More or less. I needed advice on how to overcome my atrocities, and I owed him an apology either way. He told me about your concert because he thought I would be ready to make amends, and yet I found myself unable to speak to you because I knew that if I did, I would have to beg you for forgiveness, and that is not something I will allow myself to do from anyone. Not now, nor ever,”

I let myself pull away. This was not a movie. There was no happy ending for the two of us at the end of this conversation. It was a chance to clear the air and let go of our grievances before going our separate ways. Treating it any other way would only hurt us both. “Why break in, then, and drag this all out over dinner? Why not just knock on my door, apologize, and leave?”

“I couldn’t have you slamming the door in my face and leaving me to apologize to the wall, now could I?” 

We shared a sad smile, a knowing one. “I guess that’s true.” 

“I needed to know you would hear what I had to say until the end,” he paused, “And one last confession. I must admit, I could not walk away without sharing dinner with you one last time. It’s selfish, as I am selfish, but I could not see you again without truly seeing you, more than just as you shouted at me and threw me to the curb,” 

“You think so little of me?” I asked. There was no bite in it. 

“No, I think so little of myself,” he finally took a sip from his glass, “Any anger on your part is warranted,” 

We did not speak again for a long while. Helmut methodically went through the bite-sized pieces of steak on his plate as I finished the alfredo, which had grown cold in the time it took to sort things out. There was no quiet conversation, no jokes or shared stories in the glow of the lamps overhead. Instead we sat in peaceable silence and breathed in the finality of it all. I was almost grateful for it. I never would have imagined sharing a meal like this with him in all of the years I had known him and loved him. If it was to be the last, and it was, we would savor every moment of each others company. Every moment not spent on my meal was devoted to memorizing the line of his jaw and the shape of his eyes as he did the same for me. 

By the time the waiter came to ask about dessert, I could have written sonnets about his face alone, and by the time he returned with the check, paid discreetly with a 40% tip for his troubles on Helmut’s card, I had committed the sound of his breathing to my mind. I could only hope the memory would last this time.

Realistically, I knew it wouldn’t. 

I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as we approached the front of the restaurant together, pausing awkwardly outside the door as we exited out onto the street. 

“So, this is it,” My hands found the pockets of my coat as I rocked onto the balls of my feet. 

Helmut smiled softly in the lamplight. “Let me walk you home,” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” 

“Says who? I have to follow you either way, my car is parked down the block,” He offered me his arm. 

I took it far quicker than I should have, relishing in the scent of his cologne. Even after all these years he had never switched to another brand, and I refused to admit to anyone else but myself that I was grateful for it. Instead I leaned into his warmth. “Well, it’s only a few blocks anyways. I guess it couldn’t hurt,” and with that, we were off. 

The night was cool. Summer had given in to the pull of a lush fall, the temperatures dropping to a comfortable but windy chill when the sun fell below the horizon. The leaves were not yet falling but they’d begun their slow transformation from green into a mosaic of reds and yellows and greens, forming a rustling canopy above the sidewalk that allowed a flash of stars and moon through the foliage every few steps. 

We were not the only pair walking through the streets that night, but if you had asked me about it later I would have said we were the only two people in the whole city, matching each other step for step under the flickering streetlights. Helmut’s crows feet were in full force as he laughed at my terrible jokes, and I couldn’t help but feel warmth rush through my neck and cheeks as he recounted the moment we first met. 

It had been fall then, too. A brief, chance encounter in the streets of Paris was all it was, a night spend with a stranger, until I had seen him again in Sibera, and again in Germany, and again on the Raft, and again, and again, and again, and again…

He had been younger then, much younger, and still raw with grief, but I had loved him even then.

I was so lost in my own memories that I almost missed the stairs up to my apartment, but Helmut paused there, keeping me rooted with him even though the look in his eyes told me he almost kept walking past, hoping to gain one more turn around the block before he had to let me go. He didn't, though. This was the end of the line. 

My arm slipped easily from its place against his own, hand catching briefly on the crook of his elbow. “Walk me to my door?”

His laugh felt almost nervous, a paid mockery of my own earlier reticence. “I don’t think that’s wise,” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman, baron?” 

“I have never claimed that,” For a moment, when he paused, I thought that would be that. I would turn my back, ascend the stairs, and turn around to find he’d shifted back into the shadows from whence he came, but then the moonlight caught on his soft, wet eyes. “But for you, schatz, I try to be,” 

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say as we walked up the front steps and into the building. 

It had been so angry last time. I had vomited up every hateful, raging, repressed thought that I had shoved down into my chest over the course of our turbulent time together all at once and left without a second glance. This time, though, it felt wrong to end things without giving him credit for all of the other things, the things I had forgotten in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded us. How could I thank him? How could I tell him every wonderful thing about himself only to close the door in his face a moment later? I spent the whole trip up to my apartment trying to find a way to express even an ounce of what I felt, and then it was far too late. 

We stood there on my novelty doormat, boots settled over the dirty cartoon chickens, hands in our pockets, and breathed in the stale hallway air. 

“Thank you for dinner,” I said. If I shut off my heart and my mind and every other little betraying ache in my bones it was like it had been all those years ago. We were just meeting. This was the end of our very first date. There was a future instead of a past in the time that lay beyond us. 

Helmut averted his eyes from mine. I could tell he was pretending too. “Of course,” 

“I’ll see you again,” I lied, “I mean, it’s inevitable. We’ll end up at Bucky’s place at the same time,” 

“Or run into each other at a busy cafe,” he offered. 

“Exactly! Or our cells will end up next to each other in maximum security prison,” I laughed, but it caught, pathetic, in the back of my throat.  

He took a step back, boots leaving my doorstep. “I look forward to it, whenever it may be,” 

My shaking hands found my keys, an autopilot motion I had done a million times, and the door to my apartment swung open. I could hear Brutus in his kennel, beginning to whine the moment he heard me come home, but I paused there for a moment, one foot in and one foot out. 

“Goodbye, Helmut,” 

“Sleep well, schatz,” 

I stepped inside and locked the door without turning around for a last look. 

My tears came quicker than expected as I took in the room around me. It was the antithesis of my home with Helmut, all whites and beiges and grays from the sparse walls to the lonely couch against the wall. There was one great shock of black, though; a solid footprint on the windowsill. One last souvenir to remember him by. 

I had done the right thing. 

I had to have done the right thing. 

Life with Helmut was hell. It was exciting and lush and romantic and alluring but it was destructive and painful too. It would mean being seen and unseen for the rest of my life, living with the ghosts of those lost in Novi Grad. He would never stop being the man his grief had created. He was just too broken… wasn’t he? 

All at once I knew I had to see him again. This wasn’t going to be the end. There were still so many chances to make it right. 

Before I knew my own feelings, I was undoing the latch and throwing my door open, only to find him there, feet planted solidly on that stupid welcome mat and fist raised to lift the knocker. Our eyes locked. 

We didn’t need words then. 

No, all I needed was his lips on mine and my hands in his hair. It was a need easily rectified. 

He didn’t pull away as I grabbed the edges of his ridiculous fur coat and dragged him in for a kiss, letting the remains of that day’s lipstick smear against his chapped lips as the parted and made way for me. It was like a piece of my puzzle fell back into place, like the thing that had been lying dormant in my empty chest for the past two years had jumped to life and jumped into my throat. The tears weren’t coming anymore, though Helmut’s cheeks felt wet when I guided one of my hands to rest against it, dragging him closer. I needed him urgently. I needed all of it. Every moment I had missed. 

At least one time in my entire tiny, useless life I needed to know him as he had always known me. I had to see him through eyes that would know every atom of him by heart. 

It could have lasted second or hours. I was lost in it; lost in every heartbeat and the messy clack of teeth on teeth as we remembered exactly how our mouths locked into each other. There was no need to breathe. I would happily drown in him if he would let me. Through the passion I distinctly remembered this fervor, the endless need for him. It wasn’t frightening anymore, though. I knew how to walk away. We both did. 

This time I didn’t want to. 

Helmut was the first to pull away. His mouth was wet and red as he panted there, just a breath away from diving in for more, but he pulled away when I advanced again, instead choosing to speak between placing kisses on my cheeks and down my jaw. “I couldn’t let you walk away from me. Not again,” his voice shook as he kissed me, “Does that make me a bad man? Does that mean you can’t love me?” 

I could only breathe a laugh as I pressed my chest to him. No measure of closeness was enough. I needed him to cover every inch of me. “I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried, and I’ve tried,” 

“Please, stop trying,”

With that, he caught me in another kiss. 

“We should probably go inside,” I panted, gesturing towards the apartment with my head and Helmut nodded, maneuvering us over the threshold and into the barren entryway of the home  I’d made without him. It didn’t matter, though. That wasn’t what I was focused on. Instead, my hands were more focused on pulling his coat from his shoulders and discarding it loosely in the direction of the coat rack between fevered kisses. 

The old Helmut would’ve pulled away and make some snarky remark about keeping the place clean. This Helmut, though- my Helmut, as I had selfishly started to refer to him mentally in the past few moments -just dragged me in closer after his arms were freed, letting his hand drift to the small of my back but not even an inch lower.

Suddenly, though, things seemed to cool. The kisses grew shorter, softer. His arms still held me but seemed to loosen their grip. 

“Tell me you want this,” He whispered softly against the shell of my ear, “That you want me,” 

Ah. So that’s what this is. 

“Helmut, of course I do-“ 

“That’s not enough,” his voice was laced with a rare seriousness as he pulled away to look at me properly. His brown eyes glowed a million honeyed colors under the shitty, flickering overhead lighting I should have replaced months ago. They flitted from my swollen mouth to my cheeks to my watery eyes as his hand came up to cup my cheeks again. “Tell me this isn’t a mistake or a bad decision you’ll regret the second we finish,” 

The rest went unsaid. 

(Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me this means something to you, even if it doesn’t mean as much as it does to me. Tell me I won’t wake up alone tomorrow morning. Tell me anything and everything except the cruel reality that neither of us really knows what the future looks like once this is over)

I simply nodded my head, coming in for one closed mouth kiss. “I want this. I want you. Whatever I choose to do next, you’ll be a part of the decision. No more running away,” 

Like a shot, we were off to the races again. 

It was hard to detach our bodies long enough to give Brutus a treat to quiet him down, harder still to lead him to the bedroom and drop his hand long enough to turn on a nearby lamp, but somehow I managed. For all of the small things I’d forgotten about Helmut in the two years we’d spent apart, his bitten nails and the silhouette of his nose and the sound of his labored breathing as he took in my body with something akin to animalistic hunger, it was easy to fall back into the rhythm we’d always found ourselves in intimately. 

His shirt came off first, exposing the soft curve of his stomach. I kissed down from his neck to his chest, letting myself pause on each and every pinkish scar that graced his flesh. I made a mental note to ask him about a few new ones, including a wicked one across his collarbone that still puckered into an inch long divot in his flesh. My fingers followed my mouth, mapping every inch of his flesh. They caught on every soft yielding place he offered, a worship on the altar of his body, dragging his flesh ever so slightly but never enough to leave a scratch or bruise. 

I would not mark him any more than the world already had. It was not my purpose to remold him into my image. Instead I would venerate what he was, what he had become. 

Helmut had put so much effort into changing himself, rebreaking the things that had never healed correctly and setting them right again. I refused to let him break down to splinters again. Not on my watch. 

He shuddered at my attentions. 

“Let me see you?” It was a question, not a demand, and how could I deny him when he asked so nicely? 

I stood up again, relishing in the feeling of his fingers against the hem of my t-shirt, the gentle scratch of nails on skin as he lifted it over my head. When he looked at me, it was like he was looking at the most precious thing in the world. Usually he was so hungry for it that there was never a pause once my shirt was discarded. My bra would be thrown off with it, then my pants, then my underwear, all in such quick succession that I barely distinguished one article from the next in the order of things. This time, though, he paused, hands just inches from my bare flesh. 

“My sweet girl,” he whispered to me like a prayer, a confession, “I don’t think I can hold back much longer,” 

Slowly, deliberately, I stepped forward and pressed my body into his awaiting hands. He squeezed my hips once, gentle, and twice. Then they were roaming up to the clasp on my bra with that usual hunger again, freeing my breasts for his attentions. I don’t exactly recall how he manhandled me on to the bed, I was too busy feeling the hard press of his bulge through his crisp dress slacks. The first thing I was fully cognizant of was his hot breath on my sternum as he hovered over me, still standing but bent at the waist, boxing me in with his knees. 

“So fucking sweet,” he whispered before taking one of my nipples between his lips and laving his tongue over the hardening tip. 

I felt like a live wire. Heat was building everywhere. Dazzling electricity shot through my head and fingers and toes and cunt and gods especially my breasts. They were always my weak spot, and how he knew it, how he knew me. I wanted to thrash against him, to buck and gain his attention where I really needed it, but his body above mine held me fast, keeping me right where he wanted me, vulnerable to him and his specific brand of torture. With a particularly sharp pinch and a well timed suck he had me keening against him, curling into his every move. 

How had I lived without him? It was hard to imagine a night not spend here with Helmut, wherever here was, not that that mattered. I was embarrassingly wet. The slickness had gathered enough that I could feel it on my thighs despite my jeans. When I tried to relieve myself, though, the baron caught my hand, tutting softly. 

I expected to have to ask permission. Soft begs escaped my mouth. I needed him. I had no patience for games. Instead, though, he lifted up off of my chest and smiled, pulling my hand to his lips. “Let me help you, love,” 

There are no words in the human language that could adequately represent the sound that escaped my mouth. I could not even begin to try. It continued even as I lifted my hips to shimmy free from my jeans and underwear in one fluid motion, only ceasing when Helmut was on his knees with his face buried in my cunt. I was making different noises then. Loud. Guttural. If I had any mind left at all I would worry what my neighbors thought, to see me out on my doorstep desperately pawing at a man only to hear the noises we were making in tandem now. Thankfully, any sensible thought I had left seemed to fly out the window with Helmut’s first lick to my cunt. 

It was clear that he hadn’t forgotten me, and if he had, the muscle memory was coming back quick. His tongue was deft as it worked its way over my aching nub in a pseudo-figure eight; circling once, twice, and three times before dipping back through my folds. I held him in place this time, though, rocking into his mouth. At some point my hands found their way into his hair. It was so soft between my fingers, so pliable as I pulled against him, desperate for more of him, anything he would good. 

Every time he relented to me. Each sharp jolt was rewarded with a kiss against my thigh or a muttered curse in Sokovian, hot breath teasing my glistening mound. 

He was so giving, so attentive to my every need. He had always been a generous lover, never leaving me wanting for anything, but this felt… different. The way he sucked bruises into my thighs, relenting to each and every sobbing please that escaped my soft lips, was a new and devastating experience. There were no power games left to play, no lording his sexual prowess over me as he brought me slowly closer and closer to the ever distant goalpost, just his mouth on me over and over and over again as he wrung the first orgasm of the night out of me, then the second in short measure, barely ceasing from one to the next.

By the time he decided I’d had my fill, my legs were a trembling mess against his shoulders and my cunt was a sopping mess. 

He grinned a crooked grin at his masterpiece.

“How was that, my love,” 

I could barely catch my breath enough to speak. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, thrumming a frantic drumbeat even as the room quieted. “So good- really really good, Helmut,” 

Slowly, he rose up from his knees, undoing his belt. “Please say my name again, schatz,” 

“Helmut,” My voice was hushed. Reverent. 

He undid the button at his fly, pulling at the band of his boxers. “Again,” 

It fell from my lips like a prayer. “Helmut,”

His cock bounced free, bobbing as he took a sharp, steadying breath. He placed his hand at the base and squeezed slightly. 

“Again,” 

“Helmut,” 

“Fuck, that’s good,” The trance broke momentarily as I gazed up at him, watching the sweat roll down his forehead in shining rivulets despite the chill in the air. He wiped at them with the back of his free hand and smiled sheepishly. “Scoot back and get comfortable, please. I don’t think I’ll last long,” 

I did as he asked, settling against my pillows on the still-made sheets. “Neither will I,” 

“Where are your condoms?” 

“Bedside drawer, way in the back. I’m on the pill too, so no worries,” 

He moved quickly, grabbing a foil package from the small pile I’d accrued, just in case. 

It felt odd to have him be the one using them. 

There had been a few other men who had been invited here, fewer still that made it to the point that Helmut and I were at now. Every time, though, I hadn’t been able to go through with it, because every time they had finally settled themselves above me, I would close my eyes and, just for a moment, see Helmut in their place. It was unsettling the first time, enough so that I sent the guy home right away. The next time, though, it was more thought provoking than anything. I chalked it up to him being my longest lasting sexual partner and left it at that, but now, watching him roll the condom onto his length and crawl into his position over me, I knew. 

I would never get over him, even if I tried for years. My heart had a space carved out in the shape of his own. No matter how long I stayed away, I would never find something quite like what we had. He was it. This was what people dreamed about. And to think, I had almost let it slip away…

He slid one hand into mine, lacing our fingers together in the gentle lamplight. “Are you ready for me?” 

“More than ready,” My thighs spread as I canted my hips up.

Physically and mentally and every other possible way I needed him. I was prepared. 

So Helmut pumped himself once with his free hand before guiding himself into my wet heat. 

It was impossible to last long once we were finally complete. 

Feeling him inside me was like knowing the truth of the universe. It was comfortable, and thrilling, and so deliciously enough. He filled me well, finding his rhythm as he swore and released my hand to prop himself up more comfortably. We were linked together like the final pieces of a puzzle. I closed my eyes at let myself relish in it. 

There was nothing left to worry over while Helmut was inside of me. All thoughts that weren’t of him were banished. It was something to be cherished, every thrust paired with a whispered confession of love from one of us, a fleeting kiss, a curse, a plea… We laid ourselves bare. I let my legs wrap around his warm, soft hips as he rutted into me, bringing a hand between us to circle my clit once more. Even after everything he refused to leave me behind while he chased his own pleasure. It didn’t take much to send me tumbling over the edge into oblivion. 

As always, Helmut followed me down. 

His thrusts quickened, then stilled as he came to rest upon me, panting and heaving and begging for breath. I didn’t care much. He smelled of cologne and sweat as I buried my face in his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could feel him soften inside of me but I was far too spent to urge him to move.

We only shifted apart when he slipped free of me.

Helmut quickly kissed my forehead and gathered himself up, shuffling to the trash can to discard the used condom and grab a tissue to wipe himself up. I didn’t let myself move an inch. If I moved, would the bliss run away? Would I realize what I’d done? I let myself lay instead, eyes closed, panting in the autumn chill as my lover approached and wiped up our beautiful mess as gently as he could manage. With one last kiss to my thigh, he discarded the rag, opened the window, and crawled back into bed with me. 

The process was indelicate, a lot of awkward shuffling of sticky limbs, but we were settled beneath the blankets soon enough. Helmut stroked his fingers down my arm languidly while kissing the back of my neck. 

I broke the peace between us. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what this means for us,” 

He sighed gently. His breath was soothing and familiar against my shoulder. “That’s not something we have to decide at this very moment,” 

“But I just don’t want you to think this means something… or at least something more than it does? If that makes sense? I don’t know,”

“Schatz, please,” 

“I want to keep my own place, at least for now. I don’t know what that means for when I’ll see you or if we’ll keep doing this,” I gestured vaguely to my nude body beneath the sheets, “or if we’re even a thing anymore, bu-“ 

Helmut reached his arm around us, placing a quieting finger over my lips and another soft kiss against my shoulder. 

“I swear, your mind sounds even louder than mine,” 

“Sorry,” 

“No reason to be,” His hand left my lips, running down to my stomach and pulling me back towards the softness of his chest. “As for your questions, I shall respect your wishes about distance and housing and labels, whatever they may be. That being said, as long as you’re still up for… this, as you put it, I will never deny you, no matter the distance. I would cross oceans for you,” 

A cum-drunk, half-asleep giggle escaped me as he nuzzled in, kissing my ear. 

“Thank you,” 

“No, thank you,” he matched my laughter with his own, “I believe this is what James would call post nut clarity,” 

“Now you ruined it!” I huffed. The faux anger only lasted a moment, though, before I was rolling to face him, cheek pressed to the soft, downy hair of his chest. “I love you, Helmut.” 

“I love you too, sweet girl. Now sleep. I’ll get up and deal with the dog once you’re resting,” 

For the first time in two years, I breathed in the scent of Helmut’s cologne before lapsing into a peaceful sleep.

---------

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first foray into smut in literal years, and it was literally all written within a 12 hour period, so I hope any mistakes weren't enough to take away from your enjoyment. Comments are always appreciated, but never expected. See you on the next authors note!

[xjulixred45x]

Choso and Little Sister! Reader

This was the Request of a lovely Anonnymous, i hope You enjoy it sweetie!(sorry if it's a little short!)

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female

Warnings: MANGA AND ANIME SPOILERS SPOILERS!!!, READ UNDER YOUR OWN RISK!!mentioned death, Kenjaku is a Terrible father, but Choso is a sweetheart. I think nothing more. Fluff.

you were another of Noritoshi Kamo's experiments.

You were the only girl, Noritoshi wanted to see if maybe using a female container would finally create something "interesting" to his liking.

but unfortunately (or fortunately) you did not meet his expectations in the slightest, even if you were more stable and humanoid than most of your brothers.

He wasn't disappointed, but he definitely wasn't surprised.

Choso, Kechizu and Esou tried to encourage you at the time, since they had all received similar treatment to you at the time and they wanted to help you not take it to heart.

Choso especially with his big brother complex had a great pleasure in comforting you, not only because of his burning hatred towards his father, but because in general he found that he liked the feeling of being loved by you.

You loved all your brothers, Kechizu and Esou also protected you a lot from Kamo.

They all had a certain special attachment to you, being the only girl, they felt like they had to protect you, you never felt excluded with them unlike with your father.

but eventually everything went upside down.

and then you were sealed with your brothers, for a long, long time.

but then you woke up.

and your first impulse was to see your brothers.

Fortunately (at the time) Kechizu, Esou and Choso were fine, but everything had changed drastically since the Edo Period. everything was so modern.

and humans were...well, normal. You knew you wouldn't have the chance to have a normal life being what you were. You weren't human or curse completely.

Choso had that same line of thinking, so he allied himself with Geto. I thought that this way they would have a better chance of living. a world for you...

but then Kechizu and Esou died...

and you could feel it very vividly when their lives ended...

and you felt horrible.

Choso did everything he could to comfort you, he would do what he used to do when they were young, end whatever had hurt them.

This Yuji Itadori and Nobara Kusigaki killed their brothers and hurt you, they will not come out alive.

Now it was just you and Choso. so he became considerably more clingy and protective of you.

nothing invasive, he simply did things like always go with you or not leave you alone with Curses that he considered "untrustworthy" like Mahito (rightfully so).

If someone (for example, Jogo) directly seeks a physical fight with you, Choso will practically teleport in front of you to cover you and HE will be the one to threaten him with Violence.

Nobody fucks when it comes to you.

You are someone curious, so you try to learn some things from humans, as part of you wants to be like them. Choso understands this and supports you 100% (although he sees it more as a way to "know how the enemy thinks").

HE IS SO GENTLE WITH YOU, if you insist on wanting to develop a cursed technique, he will teach you his Blood technique, but don't expect him to teach you more of the Theory (of the little he knows about his own technique), Choso will be breaks my heart at the thought of hitting YOU to train🥺

He just doesn't see it necessary at first because "why would you need to fight if I'm always protecting you?" But in an innocent way. He's just a little Paranoid and scare to let you on your own knowing what happen to your brothers.

Also, if he goes somewhere on his own, he brings you things that he considers "cute" or "girlish" (because he is still used to having only one younger sister), such as flowers, accessories, decorations, toys, etc.

Wildly protective, even over small things, you can't blame him after what he went through with his brothers. If you get into a fight with Jogo or Mahito, Choso-nissan is about to have a "talk" with him if you know what I mean.

If you manage to have a cursed technique useful enough to send you into combat, Choso will always be near you, without exception. And always with the same "it is my duty as the older brother to protect you"

Although the more experience you gain and the better you are at fighting, you and Choso develop an almost impenetrable joint fighting style. so he relaxes a little. not much, but a little.

If we go further into the story, you two were separated by the time he went after Itadori, although it wasn't exactly by choice, "Geto" said it was unfair that you both went, which is why you were originally going to take on Kugisaki.

but you got lost.

Now, I can honestly see Choso not letting you participate in the Shibuya massacre mostly out of practicality, so when you saw the amount of deaths they had caused, it really came as a surprise.

but when you felt something strange...

the same feeling as when they killed Kechizu and Esou...but this was not Choso...

You went to look for him, and when he explained the situation, it was a shock to say the least.

actually "Geto" was Noritoshi Kamo...

your father...

and Yuji Itadori was your younger brother....

It was a lot to digest.

but they didn't waste time going to confront him, after all Choso almost killed his/your brother!

(You definitely wanted Yuji to call you "One-chan"/"One-san" even just once, because for once you weren't the youngest sibiling).

(If, similarly to Choso, you are having visions of false memories where everyone is a happy family, this feeds EVEN MORE that need to hear it directly from Yuji. You want your cute little brother back :( )

With the addition of Yuji to the mix, everything becomes more chaotic, but in some ways, happier.

Now you feel like you finally have a responsibility, taking care of Yuji like a good big sister, so you constantly ask Choso for advice on doing so, which makes his heart MELT.

For Yuji it would be quite strange at first, but unlike Choso you don't seem older than him, but eventually he gets used to your presence, and since you didn't try to kill him, he warms up to you much faster.

If Yuji calls you "Onee-san" either to say that you're "something like his Big sister" or by accident, the boy won't let go of your hug (and additionally Choso, because he LOVES your hugs) for at least an hour. .

Choso continues to watch you like a Falcon. Even if you have Yuji now, he doesn't neglect you in the least. He tries to be aware of your emotions, especially with the losses that occur at that point in the story.

As I said above, one way in which you and Choso express affection for each other is through hugs, he is tall, so he gives the BEST BEAR HUGS IN THE WORLD and even though you are smaller than him, you give strong hugs, for so they use this as a great source of comfort.

It is a habit that you have had since you were "born" after all.

Yuji tries to teach you and Choso basic normal human things, which is pretty fun because it's like teaching an adult baby how to walk again🤣😅

(If you see The Human Worm you will definitely end up crying, you can't help it, you identify a lot with the main character)

Now that you have the chance, Choso is fine with you experiencing as many "normal" things as you want! whether interacting with other humans, having friends, having hobbies, etc.

He is happy to see you every day being happier yourself :,)

definitely big on preventing Kenjaku's comments from sticking in your head, he assures you that you are interesting and unique in your own way (and that Kenjaku is shit, so his opinion doesn't count).

I also think that at this point Choso would be more open with you with his insecurities, even if he wants to maintain the big brother image, he knows that you have the right to think for yourself and have your own point of view, and it feels WRONG to hide things from you.

He already feels bad enough for having taken the "easy way" due to the fact that humans wouldn't accept them, and that's why he left Yuji alone, and dragged you with him... dragged you to a life where you killed people, REAL humans...

but fortunately you were able to see things in a similar way to Yuki, yes, you are not human as such, but you two feel, you can suffer, you can be happy, you can empathize, isn't that enough to be human?

A part of you didn't understand. But you were there for you brother.

In general, Choso is a very loving older brother, who loves you with everything he is, he will do ANYTHING to protect you from everyone, Sukuna, Kenjaku, it doesn't matter, there will be no one to harm you, not with your older brother with you.

He loves you very much.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Thank You for the Request ❤️

[lo1k-diamonds]

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 7 (end)

"I said I like it fucking quiet.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi thought it would be bliss from now on, but not yet. Not until you both own the city.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

GENRE: Gangster AU, Law AU, enemies to lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: angst, plotting, kidnapping, blood, violence, knifes, guns, physical violence, death. (Am I forgetting something?)

A.N. Ahh, no way I could just let them be happy, okay? Not without suffering first, it's my style 🤣 Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for helping me around the clock and being incredible betas! Check out their fics too! Now get ready 😎

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter

Yoongi didn't know life could be like this. Once, he had been sold on that dream; it was the reason why he got married, bought a house, and started on the force. He wanted a loving home and family, and everyone told him to follow those steps to get there.

You were everything he had ever dreamed, immersing him in a bliss he never thought possible. That day, at the charity event, you took charge of things. You left with him, took him home, and spent the next twenty-four hours making up for the lost time. Your sheets didn't witness just your bodies reattuning to each other, but also the other moments when your hearts did. When you told him so much more about what you did, what you had in motion, what you proposed to secure both his and your positions, and how you planned on providing the best for your unborn child.

“Ours,” he corrected gently, kissing the back of your fingers.

You looked up with your head on his chest, and a moment later, you just nodded, “Ours.”

At that moment, he was willing to compromise for you — whatever you needed. He just didn't think it would come in the form of you not letting him leave.

He all but moved in with you soon after, and at 34 weeks, he believed he'd never leave. You adored snuggling up to him at all times of day, especially because he massaged you all over while you talked. Someone almost busted a plan of yours? You could vent while he thumbed the ball of your foot. A politician was acting ridiculous? Your hands and arms needed to let go of the stress you accumulated during the day. You had stood for hours at a charity event? Those idiots should be sued for having you standing like that; your legs needed the soothing of his fingers. You were still on your computer when he arrived home from work? Your shoulders needed to be relieved of the tension.

He still had to work and there was no way you'd pause your work, not when you had a grand plan to own the city, just like he suggested. You had decided you didn’t need to excel in every business you had to control the city, especially because the top was naturally the first to be challenged. You were too branched out, and it wouldn’t pay off — if you tried to dominate everyone, you were inviting multiple enemies to ally themselves to throw you down. Not even Yoongi would be able to help you, despite him assuring you he would. 

“I’m not interested in destroying what makes you our good half,” you had chuckled when he brought it up again. You looked beautiful under the dim lights of your bedroom, naked with your baby bump up, half lying on him in bed. This was something he couldn’t do without anymore. “We’re stronger if they don’t suspect you have hidden interests. If they think I’m a woman alone, I seem fragile. A kid will help. It’s all about finding the right balance, because if I’m too weak, they’ll destroy me. You can be our secret weapon.”

Your teasing grin as your tongue peeked between your teeth made him laugh. Ultimately, you knew your way around that world far better than he did. He’d always trust you with it.

Your strategy was to have insurance. If you had dirt on everyone and monopolized at least that market, you would be as safe as possible. Your downfall would just be too risky all around, and it would be less likely that your enemies would become friends trying to overthrow you. You wouldn’t be a significant enough threat to alarm other organizations, but you’d easily manipulate things in the shadows — everyone won.

You had started with medium management, as you liked to call it, and worked your way up. You already had a pretty big web of people working for you on the inside in various industries — other mob families, prisons, the police, the military, the entertainment and media conglomerates, even hospitals and pharmaceutical companies, without mentioning politics. Your tycoon status allowed you to keep an eye on the echelon, which meant you had everything covered. A politician wanted to do something you didn’t like? You knew of their kids’ DUIs, and the scandal was just too easy. Someone didn’t want to fundraise for the Mayor you had chosen? You had reports of companies faking quality control reports for products or negligence in the hospitals; you would leverage the media to destroy their business overnight. The media heads themselves didn’t want to cooperate? Too easy to leak footage of them in brothels or orgies that could ruin their entire reputation. And all mob families had their weaknesses; having people in the prisons and low-level thugs meant you’d know what you needed to keep them at bay. In essence, a network that gave you just enough to have leverage but not enough to be a direct threat to anyone.

He admired you for handling everything with such zeal and trusted you absolutely to take care of things. On his side, he was more worried about assuring the one thing you were most likely to overlook: your safety. First, he became intimately involved with your security details. All of your staff answered to him, which he liked. On top of that, he had his officers keeping an eye on you as well. Some probably suspected this wasn't about a case, but Yoongi didn't care as long as you were safe.

You had worked hard all over those months to carry out your master plan. It was ambitious, and if the pieces fell into place, not even Jae Seong Seok could touch you. The frustration was in getting the last piece of information — if you could find out who he was working with now, you'd be able to use your network and have him in your hand. But whoever he was working with, he was keeping it under wraps.

“It's ridiculous!” You whined, despite Yoongi massaging your shoulders. “It's a better kept secret than who the President's mistress is! Fuck!”

You jumped up from your office chair in a burst of anger, only to groan and take support on the desk. Yoongi was instantly behind you as you rubbed your swollen tummy; he didn't even flinch when you gave him a look between petulance and tiredness.

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It fucking does,” you insisted, falling back into him when he hugged you from behind. “Without knowing who is doing the Commissioner's bidding, we’re blind to his plans. It means we have a blind spot and—”

You held your breath, scrunching your nose with instant relief. He had just taken the weight out of your strained back by raising your belly, and you could breathe freely for a moment.

“Is that okay?” 

His voice was a whisper to your ear that had you sighing praises. He kissed your neck the whole time until he had to let go slowly, gently, distracting you with his lips on your skin before you’d get grumpy again.

“Didn’t you have someone on his team?”

“I lost them a couple of weeks after I told you that. He took exile in Heuksando last I heard.”

Your head fell back into his shoulder and he hummed, “I’m sure we’ll know something soon. Between your people and mine, we’re bound to hear or notice something. It’s a matter of time.” You pursed your lips, rubbing your belly again; time was a luxury you did not have. “Besides,” he spun you so you’d face him. “He’s not stupid. He wouldn’t just attempt to get rid of you; he probably knows we’re together.”

Your expression didn’t smooth, “For as long as he does bullshit without us knowing, we won't own the city.”

He nuzzled you, “He’s just one man. One tiny, meaningless man. Don’t worry about it.”

You didn’t seem fully convinced but you definitely relaxed in his arms that night, and the few nights after. Yoongi believed what he had told you: if the both of you were blinded to the Commissioner’s movements, then he was to yours too. You were stronger than him, you were together. You were bound to win.

But that night when he drove to the Aether at the maximum speed his car allowed, he wondered if he’d been too naive. If it was right to think that owning 98% of the city was enough to protect you and your child, only to learn the worst way possible that it could all fall through the cracks.

He arrived at the club, and from the outside it might have looked like the security were handling a typical problem, like a rowdy customer. When Thoma greeted him at the entrance, Yoongi followed him hurriedly, his blood freezing inside his veins. Your head of security didn’t just make that face for no reason.

Still, Yoongi couldn’t have believed it until he saw it with his own eyes. Before he got to your office, he passed your security and staff being checked by medics in the hallway, some even bleeding on the floor, almost passed out. Yet, when he entered your office, the situation dawned on him.

You had put up a fight. Your office was completely upside down, with your screen and papers on the floor, fallen chair, and broken glass everywhere. There was blood on the floor, which he kneeled to see. His fists closed instantly at the thought of you getting hurt, but maybe you had hurt them instead before they took you. You were good with your knife. He looked around; he couldn’t see it anywhere.

He got up, “Who the fuck?”

He asked simply, quietly, and Thoma answered, “Look at the back of the door.”

Yoongi turned, his dark eyes scanning the open door for traces of it being used or handled some way. His long, black raincoat billowed behind him as he moved and quickly used a glove to push the door closed.

I also prefer it quiet.

The scribbles or the paper glued to the door made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Does it mean anything to you?”

Yoongi’s eyes were the color of death, “Yes, and it does for you, too. You’re going to do exactly as I say.”

Thoma disagreed with Yoongi’s instructions, but he’d carry them out anyway. Yoongi didn’t care about the man’s opinion; it wasn’t him who was about to lose his whole life to a bug he didn't squish properly.

When Yoongi had decided to help you back when it was a conscious decision. Not just to step into your life, but to stay in it. To make it better. To use what he had at his disposal to do so. He didn’t regret it for a second, not even now. Some would say he was reaping what he sowed, but that was a stupid understanding of the situation. A coward’s subservient view on what was happening — when they touched you, they knew there were only two possible outcomes. And for Yoongi, there was only one. 

Of course, Thoma didn’t like calling the police and reporting the assault or that you were kidnapped. But the police responded to Yoongi in that area, so that wasn’t the problem. He didn’t like that he was to play dumb and not tell them who had done it. Eventually, they would be shown footage that Officer Jung could recognize, all to buy Yoongi the right amount of time. 

Because to Yoongi there was only one outcome. As he stopped in a hidden alley without cameras, he opened the trunk of his car and pulled the bottom to reveal a secret compartment where he had an arsenal. He picked and loaded a pistol, screwed in the silencer, and hid it along with magazines under his long raincoat. Then, he made his way to the back of the Evgeni Sports Center.

Yoongi refused one of the possible outcomes as if it wasn’t possible. That was maybe why he entered the building casually and unnoticed amidst a football game, making the big crowd watching it on the flat screen completely wild. The beer was plentiful, as were the cheers, and he was able to swiftly enter the kitchen in the back, where the staff didn’t dare look at him. He was a man with a purpose and only one option.

When he reached the back door and went down the stairs, he grabbed his pistol and started his work. There was only one justice down there — the one he inflicted himself. Big or small, he didn’t care. People fell like flies before the commotion began and even then, to reach him was a nearly impossible task. He was an agent of death dealing it swiftly to everyone who had dared to condone this heinous crime. To touch you at any point would have been dangerous, but now? It was a death wish — the only possible outcome.

Blood tainted the walls at his passage while he shot, punched, and kicked whoever dared to stand in his way to find you. He noticed the heavy metal doors, knowing they hid bullshit that wasn’t meant to be found, but he continued. It would be a shit show, but he didn’t care. His officers would show and turn the place upside down. Weapons? Drugs? Torturing people? He huffed and wiped the blood off his knuckles; all fine and dandy, but not what he was looking for.

He didn’t mean to, but he ended up cleaning that floor like it was a military operation. No one but people being tortured were left alive in his wake; no witnesses, no surprises. All he wanted was you, he’d leave once he got what he came for.

He held his gun up and in position as he faced the last door at the end of the corridor. It took him one second to calculate the odds of finding you there. Then he risked it and opened it, only for a kick to hit his hands hard.

He grunted, and although he didn’t instantly loosen his grip on the weapon, a punch to his back made his form crumble.

A series of punches made him grunt and raise his arms to defend himself, and a careful dance ensued. Yoongi almost lost his patience as he handled that single amazing enemy, but then two things happened: his pistol fell to the floor, and he saw you.

You were sitting on a lonesome chair in the middle of that humid, dark storage room, tied and pale. He instantly saw your shining eyes and the hairs glued to your forehead with sweat, your chest heaving tensely over your swollen belly, and knew he hadn’t come fast enough. He needed to get to you.

Those fuckers just had to keep their strongest guy next to you. It pissed Yoongi off; he much rather shoot him too. But he was forced to fight and manage the situation, not letting him get near you or the gun.

After a succession of punches and counters, Yoongi landed a punch on the guy’s ear and made a judgment call that put everything in jeopardy — he ran to you. Your eyes widened, seeing the guy behind Yoongi rush for the gun on the floor. He was dizzy from the punch, and your brain struggled — even if you warned him, Yoongi would never make it back in time to grab it.

So you shook your leg frantically, “The knife!”

Yoongi rushed to kneel before you and grab the knife, thinking to use it to set you free, but you kicked him as hard as you could.

A gunshot echoed and Yoongi’s breath caught as he fell back to the floor. For a second, he thought his life was over — not because he had been shot, but because you had.

But a split second was enough to hear the bullet ricocheting off somewhere and hear the guy fall to the floor. Yoongi’s training kicked in and two seconds later, he was on top of the guy, trying to finish it. His enemy was brave, dizzy, and without balance, but he was still a tougher foe than most people Yoongi had encountered in his career or training. The pistol had fallen somewhere when the guy had lost his balance, so it was all about the knife. They started fighting for it and in a slip of his hand, the guy caught it, and slash.

Yoongi grunted and fell back, holding onto his face more with shock and instinct, than actual pain. He thought he was blind for a moment, feeling something thick on his fingers while his sight darkened, but he couldn’t stop. To stop was to endanger you, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He opened his good eye and, seeing the guy with his back turned advancing toward you, Yoongi rushed to kick him as hard as he could in the back of the knee.

The guy fell forward with a grunt, letting the knife fly away, and in your attempts to escape him, you leaned back on the chair. The push was enough to make you gasp and fall back with a bang that scared Yoongi shitless. His head was hurting, and along with the blood covering his eye, it put him off balance, to his frustration. He gritted his teeth, trying to get to the fallen guy by crawling; it wasn’t like it was his ears, so his balance was fine. It was just his damn eye!

But he didn’t move fast enough; suddenly, he heard steps rushing and tried to get back on track and jump on the guy, but he couldn’t see him. It was too late.

A gunshot echoed again, and this time a body hit the floor. Yoongi sat up and rubbed at his eyes roughly, widening his eyes to check on you , and there you were. In the same dress as this morning, though covered in sweat, dry blood, dust and now even chair bits from when it shattered with your fall, standing a few steps away from him, emotionlessly eying the guy you had shot in the head.

Then, you rushed to his side and kneeled. Yoongi wanted to grab you close, speechless, but you grabbed his head instead and brushed his longer dark hair aside.

You sighed in relief, “You’re okay, it’s just a scratch.”

He blinked at you, finally acknowledging the sting on his eyelid and cheek and that he could see fine, but instantly it didn’t matter. He widened his eyes at you, raising his arms around you, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

You meant to get up, but you groaned. Something wasn’t right.

Yoongi called your name and you looked at him. It was as though you had gone deaf; his lips were moving but you could barely hear him.

“You’re bleeding.”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding,” he repeated, supporting you more steadily, trying to calm you, but you were confused.

“I’m not, I’m fine. I wasn’t shot.”

“No,” he brushed your cheeks gently, trying to make you focus. “You’re bleeding.”

It was like a CD entered the slot and it finally dawned reality on you. You looked down, holding onto his arms around you, and the pain hit you like a truck. You were bleeding down your legs, and suddenly you were dizzy. Your legs couldn’t hold you; you only wanted to curl around yourself and he let you down slowly.

“It hurts—”

“Breathe.”

Yoongi started the breathing exercises you both had learned but the way you glared at him was enough.

“I’ll carry you out. Ready?”

Your groan had a pitch of fear, but you bit your lip and screamed through the pain as he lifted you in his arms. Everything was a blur; hot and cold sweats going up and down your spine as you tried not to scream your pain out. It was visceral, terrifying, and rife with despair— something was wrong. You needed help. Now.

Once upstairs, people had scattered in a commotion, but fortunately, it seemed nobody quite knew what was going on. Some were running outside, others were filming, but the center's staff was surprisingly quiet. It was almost like suddenly, there was no one to take charge.

Fortunately, an ambulance had already been called to tend to the reported distress at the building. So when Yoongi stepped out with you in his arms, the paramedics quickly turned to the pregnant person with a bloody dress instead of a drunk making a scene.

In a matter of seconds, you were on a stretcher being carried inside the ambulance, and Yoongi wanted to go with you. 

But you held his hand, “No.”

He frowned, but you just looked behind him and then gave him a look, and he understood. He let go of your hand and instantly turned back as swiftly as possible. The crowd was in shock with the reported noise and the bloodied pregnant woman that just passed by them, and so, distracted.

Yoongi rushed downstairs, leaving the door closed behind him. He grabbed your blade and his pistol, then quickly looked around. It was a storage room with all sorts of boxes and containers, and he needed something that could destroy evidence fast, but not so fast that all the people tied up in other rooms, bleeding to death, couldn’t be rescued in time.

In the end, he found flammable paint and poured it on stacks of documents far back in the room before setting them on fire with a lighter. He hoped the humidity made the fire spread slowly enough, but even just the water from the sprinklers would help once they were triggered.

After dealing with that, he made his way completely upstairs through another set of stairs that weren’t accessible to the public. 

He had been there before, so he knew exactly where to go and that there were no cameras. He assumed he had killed most of the goons because only a handful tried to stop him. By then, he had reloaded, and nothing could stand in his way. Something was wrong; you weren’t supposed to be bleeding. It was too soon. It was all those fuckers fault!

He reached the office of Prokhor Evgeni and staggered for a second — Jae Seong Seok was sitting right there as though he had had an audience with the Russian. Both older men looked scared, which made the situation strange, almost comical. Only Yoongi wasn’t in a laughing mood; he raised his pistol and shot precisely twice.

Each man fell back onto their chair or on the floor while Yoongi pushed his hair back with annoyance, flaring, “I said I like it fucking quiet.”

Before his anger could go further, his phone started buzzing inside his pocket, and he sobered up. That meant Thoma had told Officer Jung what he needed to know; that signaled that the force was establishing a perimeter and a team to swarm the place.

He holstered his gun on his belt, then quickly put on gloves and searched for each man’s guns. Prokhor had one in his desk drawer, and Yoongi used it to shoot Jae Seong Seok a couple of times before shooting all around the room and throwing it on the floor. The Commissioner had a revolver with him, and it wasn’t hard to shoot in Prokhor’s direction and simulate a scene. Would it raise questions? Absolutely. But the more questions it raised, the harder it would be to get to the actual truth.

Yoongi went downstairs and blended in with the crowd still lingering about before reaching for the fire alarm to pull it. A loud siren went off, and the fire in the basement must have finally triggered the sprinklers because they went off, too. He made his way out amongst everybody else. Then, he faced the sky and started laughing.

He thought to just take out his raincoat so no one would know he was inside, but it was raining outside. So he stood there under the rain, smirking, letting it wash away the blood from his face, clothes, and any evidence that he had been inside.

He stood under the elements the whole time, the image of diligence coordinating the police and firemen who responded to the scene. It was a bloodbath and instantly the bodies became the reason for a national scandal. The media couldn’t get enough of it, especially the bit about the Commissioner and the Head of a Mafia family. The officers, though, were more inclined to believe the Commissioner had come to save you in person, and something had gone wrong. Maybe your child was even his. It would make sense, considering both your statuses. Maybe you were having an affair.

Yoongi focused on making sure that everything was accounted for, even the witnesses that said he was seen before the firemen and police arrived. He made sure their statement was taken too because they were contradictory with other witnesses. Some saw him carrying a pregnant lady, some only saw him when the alarm went off. The more information the police had, the better.

But it didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about you. He understood why you asked him to stay, he needed to finish things and handle the outcome. After all, you both needed to own that city.

But he was dying to hear news from you. He had texted your people as soon as he had a second, so he knew they were with you, but still. Waiting just wasn’t possible, not tonight.

He was smoking and wrapping up the last details before the scene could be sealed when his phone buzzed inside his pocket. He picked it up this time, and the wails of a baby caught his breath.

“Is it done?”

“Yes,” he breathed, then he closed his eyes. “Our boy?”

“Eager to meet you.”

“You?”

“Come see for yourself.”

He didn’t need anything else to tell the last Officers on the scene he was leaving. He walked away to reach his car, then drove calmly to the hospital. He was drenched, so he left his raincoat inside the car and got on the elevator straight to the level you were in.

You were in a private, spacious room with everything you could need. It was just you, already wearing something of your own under the sheets, snoozing with a baby to your chest. Yoongi neared you and kissed your forehead, closing his eyes with the relief flooding him. You awoke with his touch and leaned in closer. He smelled of rain and new beginnings.

When he pulled away, you reached to touch the cut. Someone had cleaned it, leaving it red and furious across his eye, top to bottom. Looking into each other’s eyes, you knew the other was fine. Each with your own pain, but united in that moment, at last.

Finally, Yoongi took a look at his son. He was reddened too, with puffy cheeks and pouty lips, just like yours. He leaned in to kiss and nuzzle his son with a heart so full, he couldn’t speak. All he could do was sit on the bed, embracing you and him in his arms. 

You were looking at your baby before you noticed your position, englobing your son on two fronts, completely. Your lips curved, and you looked at Yoongi. You had finally won.

There we have it! I hope it was a nice, wild ride! 😁👋💜

[viiiiiiiiiin]

Aaaa so happy for you congratulations!!! I wanted to request eustas kid x male reader (you can make it gn idm) but reader is from straw hats crew and is like really quiet, their not shy at all their just really quiet and kid goes up to them thinking their all shy and the reader just says something that has kid angry that he’s flustered

Silence Speaks: Eustass Kid x Strawhat!Reader

Includes: Kid , Male Reader , Strawhats

SLIGHT NSFW WARNING

A / N: THANK YOU <33. I LOVE THIS IDEA !! ESPECIALLY WITH A MALE READER !! ENJOY !! Feel free to request a part 2 if u liked this :3

You were quite a powerful member of the Strawhat Pirates. You were a formidable opponent when it came to archery , which is why you usually stayed behind with Usopp. You 2 fought very well together , but you hardly ever spoke to him.

You barely spoke to anyone. You liked quiet areas , so you would hang out with Robin while she read or with Sanji in the kitchen. You didn't mind Luffy's loud personality , but you did need a break often. Despite this , you were brave and headstrong.

This personality didn't stop , even when your crew allied with the Heart Pirates and the Kid Pirates. You took a particular interest towards the red haired captain , Eustass Kid.

Even if he was loud , he was interesting. Something about how he acted made you blush , but you would NEVER admit that. Especially not to him.

On this particular day , it was quite sunny and beautiful. Maybe it was the calm before the storm , or maybe it was a reward for everyone's hard work on Wano by far. The sun shined down line a spotlight , warming the area around your crew like you guys were the stars of the show.

The Strawhat allies were all aboard the Sunny to reconsider some plans they had made. Surprisingly , even the hot - headed captain of the Kid Pirates showed up. It was quite obvious by his yelling in the charting room compared to Law's calm words.

While the captain's spoke in private , the rest of their crews relaxed. You were now sitting next to Robin , reading a book she recommended you. Robin had to admit , you were a relaxing break from the other rowdy men on the crew. You brought silence , but understanding. Compared to the hard headed Swordsman , the flirtatious cook , the skeleton that wanted to see every woman's panties , the perverted cyborg , the loud doctor and sniper , you were basically the opposite of them. She liked that about you.

Because of this , the 2 of you were quite close to one another. Robin was also very observant , so she had a good eye for your true personality. You spoke to her , but as quietly as a mouse. She knew not to let your silent nature and quiet voice cover over the fact you're still a man. She's heard some of the bombastic shit you've said and she still laughs about it.

She knows people underestimate you because of it. They think you're shy. In reality , you're extremely strong and get the upper hand from cocky enemies that way.

By the time you and Robin finished a few chapters and began discussing things about the book , the captains had finished their meeting. You heard the laughing of your captain , the calm steps of the surgeon , and the loud stomping of the metal head.

You placed a book mark in your book and gently placed it down next to the dark haired woman. She cooked an eyebrow but said nothing more. You walked down the steps to them and waved. "Reader !!" Your captain shouted , wrapping his arms around you.

You smiled nervously and patted his back. Unbeknownst to you , amber eyes were trained on both of you. He walked away quickly into the kitchen. You let go of your childish captain and walked into the kitchen behind him.

Around this time , you make coffee / hot chocolate. Now , that's what you were doing. You heard some movement behind you and noticed Kid. You waved to him with a smile. He rolled his eyes and continued tinkering with whatever he was making.

"Why the fuck are ya so quiet ? How are ye gonna be a fuckin' pirate if yer shy ??" He spoke bluntly , amber eyes trained directly into the back of your head.

"Can't give a good blow job with a bad throat." You joked , a slight laugh leaving your lips. The only sound , aside from the water bubbling , that you could hear was angry / flustered blabbering.

"So yer just fuckin' weird ?" He was now standing directly behind you. He watched as you made your drink. You said nothing in return and just shrugged.

"Whats yer real reason , lil man ?" He crossed his flesh arm and metallic arm. "Little man ? That's quite rude. I'm older than you , Eustass Kid." You brushed past his shoulder to grab the mug you planned to use. You winked at him and smiled joyfully.

The younger male grabbed you by your hip and pushed you out of the way. "Shut the fuck up , shy boy." He smirked at you , assuming you were a bit angry. To his bewilderment , you weren't. You just smiled and continued making your drink.

"I just don't enjoy talking as much as the rest of the crew , if you want the truth. Hurts my throat and burns my braincells." The last part was half joking and half not. Your crew irritated you at some times , but they were still your family.

Despite how you normally don't speak , you and Kid talked for quite a while in the kitchen. It was mostly you talking and asking questions while he tinkered with some project. You enjoyed talking to the red haired man. Maybe you snd the hothead should speak more , you thought.

A charmer. One you haven't seen in years , he was similar to him. You didn't know anyone like him until him and Luffy. How surprising. That might've been why you were so drawn to him.

[petrichal]

Look, I really love KobyLu, but specifically KobyLu where Koby is a marine and Luffy is a pirate and nothing else, because I LOVE seeing how people handle Koby's inner conflict while also maintaining his dream in canon.

Lead this up with Luffy being himself; he's not fazed by what other people think of their relationship, doesn't give two shits about it, but he's emotionally intelligent-- he goes along with Koby's insistence that they talk away from prying eyes (and isn't it such a pirate thing to do, to duck and hide and whisper under the canopy of leaves, to steal away treasure under the dead of night? Luffy's selfish and possessive of those he loves, so he's gleeful that there's a world where he can see a side of Koby no one else can), and *absolutely no one* would think to ask Luffy about love or dating so it's all the more easier for him to not slip his secret, this back-and-forth meeting with a marine upstart, the first person he had met from when his journey had just begun.

And as time goes on, they both get stronger, monsters in their own right and maybe more distant. But Koby's a sap so every time he sees Luffy on the newspaper after a dangerous stunt, he thinks he's so reckless but he thinks it with such endless admiration and pride that he thinks his heart might just burst. (On the same stretch of ocean, Luffy sees news of Koby too, rising up in ranks after each new exploit and his excitement grows because Koby's gonna be an Admiral and one day, he's gonna have to chase Luffy too. and if he's going to replace one of those shitty Admirals in office, well, then that's a bonus as well.)

If anyone asks them why they keep looking at the newspapers, always staying at the same page and on the same picture, Koby would deflect. He's selfish in that way too; the longer he stayed with the Marines, the more he knew he had to act against the corruption within, and he wasn't about to ruin his career by claiming he's been seeing the future Pirate King in secret. There was also that promise he made to Luffy, something about "catching him eventually" that Koby should've probably thought about harder in hindsight but remembering Luffy's sunny grin made his admission all the more worth it.

(and Helmeppo would sigh, because he's been with this idiot for 2 years and while he can't see what the hell Koby's been seeing in Luffy, if he sees even a trace of that ratty straw hat on the front page of the news, he's gonna pass it to Koby.)

Luffy, though. Luffy is loud. To people close to him- his crew, his trusted allies- he'd yap their ears off about this shy marine guy with incredible tenacity and potential for power and everyone goes woah so you know him? he's a friend? he's your WHAT and he laughs because no one really asked him before and wow, this really is everyone's first time hearing about this, huh?

(and Law knows Koby- Koby the Hero, who was around during the Rocky port incident- and he turned towards the Strawhats with a questioning, alarmed stare only to be met by the same look. Secret brothers, and now a lover?, they'd mutter under their breaths. Zoro though, he looked like he was simply being told what the day was and raised an eyebrow as if it was no big deal. As if he knew already. what the fuck?)

So when Marine Captain Koby comes to visit (under the pretext of wanting to arrest Luffy), waving his hands like he was greeting a friend rather than an enemy, wide smile on his face to match Luffy's, the crew leans back and sighs, and let him chase their captain all around whatever island they'd be docked at at the time.

And, well, if they happen to settle by the shore after that, entangled limbs and hushed talks of dreams, the world, of what lies after holding hands and chaste kisses- that's Koby and Luffy's business entirely.

[oh-no-its-bird]

I would love to read founders konoha from the kids, teens and adults based on their interactions so much.

I just want the kids to be 'huh. Not what I was expecting' and just all the horror stories heard

Give the teens so much 'oh no, that's hot' and it's worse bc you were previously enemies so you could pine over an enemy that wasn't available but now it's a chance.

Adults just bonding over their kids antics. Yes I know it would be more but let them bond over than just fighting, though they can be like 'it was cool/difficult move you pulled'

I THINK THAT IT JUST HAS SO MUCH POTENTIAL !!!

Obviously, we see very little of early Konoha as is. And what we do see is all from the perspective of like, those at the very, very top of it, in charge of it all, planning, all that.

THE AMOUNT OF FUCKING "FORBIDDEN ROMANCES" THAT ARE HAPPENING IN THE VILLAGE IS SO REAL THO. LIKE. Ok so u have all these shiobi kids, (many of which are probably wired to be attracted to deadly things, just by virtue of how theyre raised) going from isolated communities where the dating pool consists of arranged marriages and the same guys youve known since u were 5, suddenly thrust into a setting with so many other shinobi kids and clans that it takes actual effort to keep track of. And also you have pre set sterotypes and relationships to go off of just based off of their clan alignment, and all this melodrama about becoming friends (or more) with the people who, a year ago, you were expected to KILL.

And you also have the exact same thing but playing out with allied clans, where some kids are coming to the "rescue" of their allies. I bet some of them like look forward to seeing their allied clan counterparts in whatever monthly or even yearly trips they no doubt beg to be let to go on. Just for the opportunity to see their friends or crushes that one single time a year-- BUT NOW THEY LIVE IN THE SAME VILLAGE !!!

These guys are losing their MINDS

The parents have the most genuine beef between them, even while the children may be louder about it-- but the children's antics are pulling the parents together. Maybe because they need to at least try to set a good example, maybe because they just need someone to be able to share a glance with and go "can you believe this shit?"

I just love thinking ab specifically not even how messy the Uchiha and Senju kids would be living in proximity, but like just tossing in all these different clans from all over.

Bc at first, when its just Senju and Uchiha, its at least straight forward. But then you start mixing in other major clans-- Hyuuga, Nara, and it gets messier. And then the smaller clans are also getting mixed in, Orochi, Hatake, Shiranui, etc. And then more big clans arrive, and even more smaller, and now there are civilians here, and a lot of the younger clan members have never even interacted with a civilian outside of their jobs, and it's just so messy.

What do you do when a battlefield crush is suddenly living only a few minutes away? When you're suddenly seeing them daily? Even potentially going on missions with them? There's going to be so much pigtail pulling and just awful idiot shinobi flirting via mutual harassment

Anyways I firmly believe that there was a major baby boom in the first couple of years of Konoha being founded, many of which were probably idiot teenagers fooling around bc they couldnt manage to go on a mission with an enemy clan member without the crazy tension getting to them, send tweet.

ALSO !!! It would be such a great medium to tackle writing fun clan rumors and stereotypes about clans and also people! I want to see random people gossip about the founders !!!

[kamiko1234]

*EVEN MORE YAPPING AHEAD*

Okay as of now I have finished chapter 3 of The Last Olympian and, OH MAN STUFF'S GOING DOWN.

So first off, I still find it EMBARRASSING how little Camp Halfblood does in terms of war. It's good that they started running missions but they STILL aren't a real army!

They lack a solid command structure,. They lack enough real allies (I guess the gods count as allies technically but like- it's not like they BEHAVE like allies. I mean Kronos' allies are in active communication with him to coordinate and strategize, so far it just seems tho gods are doing their own separate stuff in terms of fighting)

So far their whole strategy feels like the good old soviet approach of "throw men at the enemy and see what runs out first. Our soldiers or our enemies ammo".

EXCEPT FOR THE FACT THAT CAMP HALFBLOOD DOES NOT HAVE THE NUMBERS FOR THIS STRATEGY AND THE ENEMY WON'T EVER RUN OUT OF AMMO.

Like how have none of these people properly militarized yet!? Why are they running single man missions instead of acting as a closed force!? Why are they FIGHTING OVER LOOT INSTEAD OF PLANNING?

I will give the "why are kids planning a war" thing a pass because, well, kids book and kids wanna see themselves. BUT WHY DIDN'T CHIRON STEP IN WHEN THEY FAUGHT!?

Clarisse just dipped! And with her the entier Ares cabin! And idk if you noticed but those Ares kids LOVE fighting- so for them to just decide to sit this one out? Yeah whatever that reason is it must be GOOD. (Also very based for Clarisse. I mande it more than clear that I do not like CHB, the more people are done with it the better)

Am I the only one realizing how BAD that is!? For your main fighting force to be so divided that entier GROUPS just decide to sit it out because the rest fucked up and no one addressed the problem!?

And how come that these cabins STILL ACT MORE LOYAL INWARDS THAN TO THE ARMY!? THAT'S BAD TOO YK.

I swear if you don't wanna do the whole "united front" thing ATLEAST INTRODUCE PROPER MILITARY STRUCTURE.

You guys I am genuinly worried about CHB right now. As I see it they were already massivley underequippe to deal with Luke. Much less with KRONOS.

I mean sure they have Percy, but like- he's ONE GUY. He ain't gonna be enough to believably deal with and defeat the entier army!

Honestly at this point the only way I can see Kronos being defeated is him falling down a flight of stairs and accidentaly impaling himself on his own scythe 💀

Also on anothernote, I finally found out the entierty of that prophecy and that Percy's apperantly going to die..... and well, I feel nothing.

Like genuinly nothing.

I do not care wether he lives or dies.

I mean, I'd still PREFER it if Percy wouldn't cosplay a martyr and end up with Uncle Hades but like- even if he does it wouldn't be the worst for me.

To be quite honest I find Percy a bit boring compared to the other characters at this point. He feels to have very little to no actual conflict when next to the other characters.

Like, what sort of conflicts does Percy have?

-Shitty Dad/Parental Issues? He has a locing mom, Poseidon is one of the better Dads in terms of Gods. Gabe was a dick no doubt, but he's been taken care off for ages now and doesn't rly affect Percy much anyway. And we don#t even have the "I got no dad 😢" plotline with Percy either 'cause he as Paul now to fill that role!

-Struggling with his ADHD and dyslexia? Both had little no no impact on the story like, at all. Often times it feels like they aren't even there to beginn with.

-Luke betraying him? He immideatly switched to full on hate and enemy mentality with Luke. He doesn't struggle with the guy suddenly being evil or fighting him. Neither dies he still believe in the good in Luke like Annabeth.

-His fatal flaw? I already made a seperate post on why I don#t really like that one.

Those are the main ones comming to mind BESIDES the prophecy introduced this book. But ngl? I already lost intrest in Percy in favor of Luke. I don't REALLY care anymore.

I guess we also have the plotline with Annabeth where it's very obviously heading for a romance. But I also couldn't care less about Percabeth as a ship. At most they mildly annoy me due to the fandom shoving it down my throat whever I dabble my toes in it.

Like, yeah Percy started out cool but now? I'd rather know more about Luke, Thalia and Annabeth. I wanna know more about Clarisse. I want to know more of the innerworkings of the camp.

Percy just became a sort of, meh factor to me.

I am HOPING that it get's better though since it would be SUCH a waste if I really stayed apathetic to the main character. There are hopes with Percy in his fight with Kronos noting that it's hard for him to kill Luke/Kronos in Luke's body.

As always I ask to mark any spoilers in your rebolgs or replies should you make them, thank you very much ^^

[veilkeeper]

honestly, really hard to put my final thoughts down because i'm not done this game by a mile. hell, i'm not even done with corentin—i need to see the human emmrich romance path before i decide what's canon for him there, and then i'm going to romance davrin with him. and i'm already getting inklings for a warrior to romance bellara with. and i know i need to play a rogue at some point, too.

i liked it. i liked it a lot. origins and da2 will always have a special place in my heart and idk if i'll ever be able to say another dragon age could beat them as my favourites, but veilguard is so good. and more than that, it's fun to play. mechanically. my playthrough came out at over 100 hours because i liked just dicking around and fighting respawning enemy encounters and clearing the map.

i can get a lot of mileage out of a game if it's fun to play and if it has characters i like. i mean, i have hundreds of hours in fallout 4 because i just turn on the radio and wander around, and i hate the plot of that game. veilguard is great mechanically and has a whole cast of companions that i really like, and that alone would make it a candidate for me wasting a ton of time in replays.

but i also liked the plot. they fixed basically all the problems i had with DAI—elgar'nan and ghilan'nain feel present and dangerous. it feels like rook and their team are barely making it out of every encounter by the skin of their teeth. your friends do come to mean something to you, and you to them. when you all hold hands and jump into the fray together, it feels like they're all willing to do whatever it takes, and they are. the ending when all your companions and faction allies come together and storm minrathous feels so good and heroic because you earned that. you put in the work to earn their loyalty and it pays off and it feels so fucking good.

is it perfect? god no. but every DA game has had clumsy handling or bad decisions included, and they've all been accepted into the canon of Dragon Age and someone loves them. and i'd be willing to say i love this game, too. i'm excited to keep poking and prodding at it and i'm excited to keep talking about it. and probably writing about it, too. so stay tuned.

[pedroshotwifey]

Joel Fucking Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (Can be pictured as either HBO or Video Game version)

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, Smut with a lil garnish of angst, kinda mean Joel, Borderline Dark!Joel, but consent is given at a point, one singular spank, rough piv sex, exhibition kink, slight humiliation/degradation, possessive behavior, enemies to lovers-ish?, reader is a menace but we love her, spit kink, anal play, this is pure filth and I'm not sorry

Summary: You and Joel Miller have been sworn enemies from the very start, both of you at each other’s other's throats since the first glance. What he can't know is that you have been harboring a stubborn crush on him this whole time---It’s not until he has you up against a wall that you realize he feels the same way.

A/N: Now that I have all of my one-shots posted, I'm going to start posting my ongoing stories as well as some new works. I'm almost finished with the Frankie Sex Pollen fic so that will be posted sometime this week. I will also be working on creating both a masterlist and a recommendation list, so hopefully that should be done soon too. Thanks for reading!

***

Today has been a shitty fucking day—no pun intended. 

Not to say every day isn’t shitty here in the QZ, but this one really takes the cake. To start your fabulous day, you woke up an hour late, making you one of the last people in line to pick up jobs. When you got to the assigning station, you found that you had been left with two options for the week: janitorial service at one of the mess halls, and sewer duty—where you literally have to shovel shit. The only card left for the mess hall was an all-day shift. You took them both.

That's why you find yourself here now, below the city, finishing up sewer duty, covered head to toe in stench and sweat even though it’s the middle of winter. You’re pretty sure you are the last one down here; it’s been a while since you saw or heard anyone else. You aren’t surprised. You’re used to being the only one who cares enough to actually finish whatever job you were tasked with that day, no matter how repulsive it may be. 

You don't take pride in much, but you are willing to admit that you admire that quality about yourself. You are a damn hard worker and you aren’t afraid to show it. You have no idea where it stems from, maybe your stubbornness, or possibly your inner perfectionist. Whatever it is, you find yourself often wishing that more people would have the same mindset. God knows it would make your life easier at the very least. In the time you have spent in the Boston QZ, you have only had the pleasure—or maybe you should say displeasure—of meeting one other like-minded person. 

You became acquainted with Joel Miller within the first day of being in the QZ, which was about three years ago now. The first glance you got of him was as you were being hauled through the gates, lucky enough to have not been shot on the spot when a couple of FEDRA officers caught you hiding out in the woods. Your eyes met his before they met anyone else's, and he’d held your gaze, his expression anything but welcome, as if he were trying to evaluate you with one look. 

By the looks of it, he had to be at least a couple of decades older than you, but that didn’t stop the heat that started to simmer between your legs at the first glance you got of him. When his eyes didn't leave yours, you took it as a challenge and forced yourself to keep your gaze on him until he was completely out of sight. You knew what you were doing, and so did he, both of you deciding on the spot that you would be enemies until one of you either died or left. 

Sure, you knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to piss people off before you made any allies, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. From the first second you saw that man, you knew that one way or the other—one of them being a heated feeling you chose to ignore—he would be trouble. As per usual, you were right. If you didn't know any better, you would have said that he was dead-set on following you around, bumping into you at almost every job you took. At first, you had been convinced that he had been doing just that.

 The first couple of times it happened you considered it some stupid coincidence, some twisted kind of unluckiness. Granted, it wasn't every time, but it was more often than not, and that was more than enough for you. By the fifth or sixth time out of ten, you waited until the very end of the shift, until it was only Joel and yourself left working. You kept a close eye on him, and as soon as he started wrapping up, you cornered him. That had been the first time that you had ever actually spoken to each other instead of tossing nasty glances back and forth. 

You had immediately gone to work with your rushed interrogation, demanding him to tell you why he was following you, to tell you what his problem was. The most frustrating part of the whole ordeal was the way he had sat back, leaning on one leg with his arms crossed, his expression bored as he waited for you to finish. He said nothing until he was positive that you had nothing more to say. 

“I ain't followin’ you, kid,'' he had said, his voice deep and more pleasant than you would have liked it to be. His tone was hard, as you had expected it would be, but the tangy southern drawl and depth of his voice took you off guard, an unwelcome heat suddenly forming between your legs—which only pissed you off more. 

The stone-cold look in his too-pretty eyes only worsened the feeling, and suddenly you found that you weren't able to speak; you didn't even know what you had come up to say at this point.  “Don’t fuckin’ bother me again,” he muttered and pushed past you before you could realize you had been staring.

***

“You just gonna fuckin’ stand there all day?” A much too familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts and back into reality. Speak of the fucking devil. 

“Just finishing up, Miller,” you spit, not bothering to look in his direction. You can hear him start to walk up to you but you ignore it, opting instead to actually finish what you had been doing. It only takes a few more seconds, and by that time, you can practically feel Joel staring a hole into your back, no more than a few feet behind you now. 

He doesn't move, so you continue to ignore him and start walking to the ladder so you can get out of this literal shit hole. You only make it a few steps before you realize that he is moving with you, following at the same distance he had stopped at before. Your jaw ticks as you spin around on your heel, so suddenly that Joel almost knocks into you.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you ask him as sweetly as you can manage, the fire in your eyes contradicting your tone. His own eyes narrow as he takes a step back, crossing his arms in his usual fashion. 

“Maybe you should learn how to help yourself first before you go offerin’ it to other people, princess.” He says the name as an insult, and you have to bare your teeth to keep your composure. 

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean, old man?” You ask him, taking a step toward him. He doesn't back away this time, instead taking a step toward you in reciprocation. The two of you lock gazes and stare at each other for what could have been ten seconds or ten days before Joel breaks the trance and shoves past you instead of answering. 

You just stand there and let him climb the ladder to the street above you. You can see right through him, the asshole wants a reaction, and you're not going to grant him that satisfaction—not this time anyway. 

You wait for a few minutes until you can be sure that he's long gone before you grit your teeth and turn on your heel, walking to the ladder and hoisting yourself up. As you reach the surface you catch a whiff of yourself and scrunch your nose. You need a fucking shower.

***

The next day, you wake up in a sour mood, already dreading today's job—janitorial services. At least it's not scooping shit this time. You’re the first one there, as per usual. The hall is a mess after breakfast and you take a deep breath as you think about the fact that even after you scrub it spotless, it will be trashed again by the end of lunch and then again after dinner.

To top it all off, it's ridiculously cold in the room, the fire lit in the back of it not doing much to increase the temperature. You look down at your white cotton t-shirt under your flannel and find yourself wishing you had put a thicker undershirt on.

There aren't many people working with you on the first shift, only the usual other three this morning, not that you're complaining of course, it just means fewer people to get in your way. You keep your eyes to yourself most of the time, only looking at someone if they address you to ask for help or to comment on something. Before you know it, lunch has come and gone and you are preparing for dinner. 

You notice halfway through that time that your friend is working the second shift, and she approaches you so you can work together for the rest of the time, though she only has the after-lunch shift. Rachel is a hard worker for the most part, though she likes to slack off a lot, but you appreciate the help while you have it. The two of you gossip and joke quietly until it's time for her to leave and time for you to sit back and wait for the dinner crowd to flood in.

***

It feels like a week has passed by the time the last person clears out after dinner, and you breathe a sigh of relief—you’re so close to getting back to your apartment and into your welcoming bed. You immediately get to work on sweeping up the trash that collected underneath the tables, eager to get out of here. 

There are only two other people working with you this shift, which is weird because FEDRA usually has at least four people on each job, but you brush it off. They seemed to know each other and they blab amongst themselves as they work. At least the couple seemed like they were in the same mindset when it came to getting this job done, so you didn’t mind the fact that you are missing a crew member. 

Halfway through your sweeping, you hear the door slam open, startling you and the couple that is now busy with taking leftover dishes into the kitchen. The chill that sweeps through the large room makes you assume it was just a gust of wind, probably blowing snow into the doorway. 

Great, something else to clean, you think as you huff an annoyed breath. 

When you turn to face the sound though, you find yourself wishing that the problem had been snow, but of course, when did anything ever go your way? The supposed gust of wind is actually Joel fucking Miller.

Your mood immediately sours and you have to fight not to roll your eyes as you watch him slink into the room and follow the couple into the kitchen. You hear the girl inform him that he was late—as if he didn’t know, or care for that matter. He only grunts in response. You don’t bother to stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. If Joel sees it, he doesn't say anything. 

***

An hour later, Joel hasn’t bothered you, much to your relief. The only time you have to look up from your work is when the couple from earlier bids you farewell before they walk out the door. There is nothing left to do but scrub the tables, which you are doing now. 

You only have two to go, and then you’re free for the rest of the night. Now that you're the only one left, the room is almost eerily silent, the only sound being the drip of water as you dip your sponge into the bucket and wring it out. After the table you are working on is thoroughly cleaned, you move on to the last one. It sits right next to the busted window, and you shiver as you walk past it. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” The baritone voice sounding from behind you just about causes you to jump out of your skin, the bucket of water in your grasp suddenly spilling over your front. Of course, it was a huge fucking bucket, so it was enough water to coat almost your entire body. 

The white t-shirt you have on under your thick flannel is soaked through so that it’s practically transparent. Dropping the now empty tub to the floor with a loud clang, you swivel on your heel to face Joel, who is leaning against the wall to his right, arms crossed.

 If he sees the fire in your eyes, he ignores it as he smirks at you, obviously humored by your reaction—and likely by the fact that he can see your bra. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, every expletive or reprimand that comes to mind doesn’t seem to cover what you want to say. 

As you stand there soaked in dirty, soapy water, you find that you can do nothing but stare. Your gaze is stuck on the man still standing in front of you, not a twinge of empathy in his own, which he has trained on you in return. You have no idea how long the two of you stay rooted to the same spots, staring each other down, but it must have been at least a few minutes because you can feel your body start to involuntarily shiver as your drenched form begins to freeze. 

Of fucking course you had to have been standing right next to the broken, half-assed boarded-up window, and not by the fire that still rages into the chimney on the other side of the room. 

The cool air sweeping in seems to trap you in its frigid grasp, threatening to turn the grayish liquid that covers you into ice. You can't help it as you finally move, bringing your arms up to cross over your chest in a feeble attempt to warm your rapidly cooling body and cover your exposed undergarment. You flinch as your arm presses the freezing fabric closer to your skin.

The action seems to break the invisible spell that had set over the two of you because Joel takes that as his queue to take a step back off the wall and lift his chin. The movement makes him look bigger and you have to lift your own to look into his eyes again. You can only hope he sees the fury that burns on your own. If looks could kill, he would be dead on the floor right now. 

“You’re fucking joking,” you are the first to break the silence. The quiver in your voice would be embarrassing if not for the fact that it was placed there out of anger. The asshole who put it there must know it too because you can see the way he swallows as if trying to rid himself of his guilt, though if that’s what he is feeling, he doesn’t show it any other way. 

You can expect that the action will be the only sign of such a thing—if Joel Miller doesn't want to feel a certain way, he doesn’t, simple as that. You have never once met a man more rude, nor stubborn as the one currently in front of you.  

“Didn’t realize I was bein’ funny,” he says, straight-faced with that stupid southern drawl that you have come to despise. You don’t reply as you continue to stare daggers at him, and you can't tell what’s making you shake more at this point—the layer of fucking ice about to coat your body, or the unmatched rage that brews in your mind.

 Right now, you would place your bets on the rage, considering it’s actually starting to warm you up. The sight of Joel, arms crossed to mimic your own, still staring down at you like he's some fucking god, only fuels the feeling. Sighing quietly, your eyes shut as you try to calm yourself down before you say something you would really regret. It only takes a few seconds until you speak again, which might not have been long enough, truthfully speaking. 

“That was pretty fucking shitty, even for you, Miller.” You manage to get the sentence out through gritted teeth, but it sounds strained. Anyone would agree that it sounds like you are trying your best to contain yourself, though it’s obviously a task you are struggling with. He says nothing, and his body gives nothing away, so you speak again. He knew exactly what was going to happen if he snuck up on you like that, and he probably didn’t even give it a second thought.

“I mean really, how fucking immature can you be? You really thought scaring me while I was holding a tub of dirty water was the best way to get my attention?” Your mouth starts to let words out before you can even think about what threatens to escape, and there is nothing you can really do but allow it to happen. 

Your lips are moving far too quickly for your brain to comprehend at this point, your anger completely taking over. As hard as it can be to hold yourself back from an argument sometimes, you always managed—but this was the last fucking straw. 

“And why the fuck are you even here? You obviously don’t have anything left to do.” Your voice is quickly raising but you doubt you could do anything about that even if you wanted to right now. Of course, it doesn’t matter how loud you get, you could probably scream right in his face, it never seems to affect him.

“Seemed lonely,” he says simply, shrugging and shifting off of the wall. He looks at your bewildered expression and decides it would somehow make it better if he elaborated, though you both know that he only does it to dig further under your skin. 

“Never got anyone around, s’ all. Too fuckin’ stubborn n’ self-absorbed to make any friends.” His tone is condescending and nonchalant at the same time, like he is both stating a fact and trying to beat you down. You continue to stare at him as he finishes. This is a whole new level, one you wouldn’t even have assumed Joel would ever jump to. 

You’ll admit it, he’s managed to find one of your most delicate insecurities, and he knows it, too.  Even before the outbreak, you always had trouble making friends, your anxiety and general mistrust always got in the way. Every time you thought you were getting close to someone, you would push them away. It was your biggest fear, being betrayed by someone close to you—a worse fear, you decided, than being alone. 

To this day, you have only ever let one person really get to know you. When you met Rachel during your first week in the QZ, she showed you a sort of open kindness that let you know she was a good one. You knew then, and you know now, that she would never do anything to hurt you in any way. 

In the time that you've gotten to know her, she’s become the best friend you’ve ever had, and the only one you wanted. But she is only one person after all, and she can’t spend all of her time with you, so you find yourself on your own most of the time—and of course, Joel Miller, of all people, would pick up on it. 

“You are such an asshole, Joel,” you spew out after a moment. “And you have the audacity to call me lonely?” You can't help the tears that start to blur your vision, so you ignore them as you continue to rant, your hands now flying wildly. The pit of insecurity in your stomach is starting to grow to the point where you feel like it will swallow you whole. 

“You act like you’re so much fucking better than me! Who do you have?” Through your watering eyes, you can see the way Joel flinches slightly, and as much as it pleases you that you seem to have finally found a soft spot, it also eggs you on. You recognize it and think to yourself that he's a fucking idiot for pointing out the fact that you don’t have anyone in your corner when he has the same exact problem. 

“Huh? You say I'm alone, and maybe I am, but I’ve never seen you with anybody.” Your vision starts to clear as you feel hot tears begin to streak down your already-soaked cheeks, allowing you to see the deep scowl set on Joel's face. It almost scares you how mad he looks, but it's too late to back down now. 

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something, but it never comes. His silence only encourages you, and you know you probably seem immature as you continue to insult him, but it gets pushed to the back of your mind as you quickly realize it’s the least of your worries right now. Your tears are streaming freely at this point, your breaking point finally has been reached. The words are coming out faster than you care to stop them. 

“You have no fucking friends, Joel,” you spit out. That one definitely struck a nerve, and you watch as he takes a step towards you, his face giving you a warning expression as if he already knows what you are going to say next. You know his history, and you know it's a bad idea, you know it is, but you say it anyway.

“You have no friends…” You pause, your brain subconsciously trying to talk you out of what you’re about to do. Of course, you don't listen. “...and you have no fucking famil-” you get cut off as Joels hand makes contact with your throat, his grip crushing your windpipe as he pushes you back until you hit the wall and lifts you onto your toes so you are looking into his rage-filled eyes.

He says nothing for a moment as he lets you struggle in his firm grasp, watching you writhe and try to gulp in air. The panic that courses through your body is almost paralyzing, sending a hot flash throughout your entire body as your brain catches up with what's happening. 

You find yourself panicking even more when you realize that fear isn’t the only thing your senses seem to be overwhelmed with as his hand tightens around your neck. The wetness beginning to gather in your panties is suddenly the biggest problem you are faced with, an unwelcome feeling or arousal suddenly making itself known. 

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion as you feel your hands start to claw at the one wrapped around your neck, no doubt leaving raised scratch marks across his wrist. The man doesn't wince or falter though, as you struggle to try to pry his hand away. You can feel your mouth opening and closing, though you’re unsure of what you are trying to say. You suspect it's something along the lines of “Please”, but no sound comes out. 

Eventually, after you realize that nothing is going to come from your struggle, you let your body fall limp, the only movement left is the tears that still crawl tauntingly down your cheeks. Though some of them may still be from the anger that had overcome you before you felt his large palm on your throat, most of them are now evidence of your shame. 

Logically, you reason that there is no way for him to know what kind of response his aggressive actions pulled from you, but you can't help but feel like somehow, he can see right through you. 

Upon seeing you submit, Joel lifts you more until you are close enough to feel his hot breath fan across your face. He loosens his grip enough so that you are allowed to catch a breath, but not enough for you to fall away from him. He starts to lower his arm, letting your feet hit the ground, but he leans his body down with your own so that his face stays less than an inch away from your own the entire time. 

You know that realistically, he only had you in the air for a few seconds, but it felt like an hour with the fear—and unexpected lust—that was coursing through your veins. Though you are still trembling with the silent threat he delivered, you seem to be able to calm down a little as his hand loosens and slides around to the back of your neck, only holding you in place. 

You stare into his eyes because you have nowhere else to look, and are almost surprised to see the array of emotions on display. You see anger, impatience, annoyance, a hint of restraint, but the one that seems to dominate them all is the one that takes you aback the most. You see in his eyes, what must be a reflection of your own. 

Your mouth drops open again as you begin to place the look of longing and desire that burns in Joel's gaze as he stares you down, his mouth just centimeters from your own. You take a chance and allow yourself to look down at the way his lips almost brush yours, his own mouth parted as you both try to calm your ragged breathing. 

You have no idea why you suddenly feel this way—well, you do, you just refuse to admit it. You hate his fucking guts because he is the only man that has made you feel something since before the outbreak. Every time you look at him, it is evidence that you are still capable of letting your guard down, that you are still weak. 

You promised yourself the first time you understood what the potential problem with Joel Miller could be, that you wouldn’t allow it to become one. But this god-damned man makes it so fucking hard to keep that in check when he is staring at you like he wants to ruin you. 

You feel his hand tighten around you again, and you snap your eyes back up to his, suddenly blushing as you realize that you have been staring at his lips for far too long. For once, you are at a loss for words, you have no idea what to say that might save your ass from looking like you had been doing exactly what you had. Thankfully, you don't have to wonder for long because Joel cuts right back to the chase, seemingly shaking himself out of his own thoughts as he speaks again. 

“You want to try that again, little girl?” Fuck. How the fuck are you supposed to ignore the pit forming in your stomach when he says shit like that? You are too caught up in thinking of a response to answer him immediately, and he clearly doesn’t appreciate that as he shifts his position, pushing you back further into the wall behind you. 

When he moves, you realize that one of his legs is slotted between your own, and your eyes widen as you feel how close his thigh is to your center—one little movement and you will give yourself away. You must be dripping at this point, and if he's not close enough to feel the heat coming off your cunt from where he stands right now, he will be if he moves any closer. 

Steeling yourself, you opt not to speak as you bring your hands back up to grasp at his wrist again. Joel watches as you struggle to get a grip before he growls and uses his free hand to grab both of yours and place them on the wall above your head. Your eyes somehow widen even more and you want to shrivel up into a ball as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

You need to move now. You can't let this man see what he does to you, the way your body reacts to the way he so easily dominates you. You know that you have no time to plan anything out, so you do the first thing that comes to mind—you try to tug your hands out of his grip and you lunge to the side. 

You’re not sure why you even attempt it, you know that it won't get you anywhere, but you do it anyway. Of course, he overpowers you once again, and nothing changes but his grip, both of his hands tightening as he leans in even closer to you. The new position causes his thigh to crush into your throbbing clit, and before you can stop it, a whimper breaks through your lips.

Nothing is said for a moment as you stare at Joel with shame, and him at you with a newfound amusement. You can feel yourself melting on the spot, and you let your head hang in humiliation, your eyes trained on the ground next to Joel, who is now smirking as he stares back at you. You feel his thigh crush into you again, deliberately this time, and you have to bite your lip and close your eyes in concentration so as to not give away any more sounds. 

You hear Joel chuckle darkly above you, and the sound goes straight to your pussy. How are you supposed to resist this man when he sounds like that, when the rough denim of his jeans is rubbing you in all the right places as he begins to rock his thigh back and forth, making you bite your lip even harder. The hand on your neck suddenly releases its grip and you feel his thumb come to your mouth, tugging your bottom lip until it falls away from the punishing bite of your teeth. 

“C’mon now, princess,” you hear Joel speak again and you can't help but moan softly as he sets his hand on your hip, starting to guide you across his firm thigh. 

“You’ve given yourself away now, you ain’t gonna get outta this one.” His tone is taunting as he presses down on your hip, bringing you down harder against him. 

The pressure on your clit is almost overwhelming with pleasure, and you find yourself moving on your own, beginning to chase the orgasm that has suddenly come within your grasp. You can’t help it with the way your wet jeans rub you just right and the firmness of his thigh is just enough to push the seam of them onto all the right places.

“F-fuck you, Miller,” you say, opening your eyes and bringing your head back up to look into his eyes, hoping the anger is apparent in yours. He stares at you for a moment before he speaks again. 

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he moves his hand down to where your cunt meets his thigh, and places his thumb right on your clit, rubbing quick circles. The touch is all you need to send you over the edge, becoming a moaning mess under Joel’s body. He’s right of course, you want him to fucking ruin you. God, you hate it when he’s right. 

He continues the circles on your clit as you come down from your high, riding you through it. When you are finally able to catch your breath, you look him in the eye to find him staring right back at you. His gaze is intense and full of want. 

“You want me to quit, darlin?” You can tell by the way he says it, that he asks genuinely. He would stop if you said the word. As much as you want to hate him, you know that he is respectful enough that he wouldn’t do anything to that effect without your consent.

Joel may be an asshole, but he would never put his hands on a woman in that sense if she showed any sign of resistance. Though he didn’t seem to have a problem with wrapping his palm around your throat. 

“I can give you more, all you have to do is ask,” Joel says after you don't answer him. His gaze is hungry as he waits for your consent, his eyes slowly tracing up and down your body, taking you in. When he looks back to your face, you nod slowly, watching as his already blown-out pupils seem to take over his irises. 

“I'm gonna need to hear you say it, darlin,” he says as he brings his chin up to the side of your head, nibbling your earlobe and making you shiver. 

“P-please, Joel,” you say, giving up the act. You know you want him, he knows you want him, and now you know he wants you, too. 

“I need you, please.” At your signal, he doesn't wait any longer as he starts to pull you away from the wall, his free hand traveling back to the back of your neck, the other still grasping your wrists. Before you can figure out where he’s moving you to, your chest slams onto one of the tables, the force almost enough to knock the wind out of you. You had expected him to be rough, but not this rough… not that you mind. He’s clearly done with being gentle with you now that he has free reign.

“Jesus, Joel,” you say, throwing him a look over your shoulder as much as you can with your neck still being pinned down. 

“You fucking mind?” You hear Joel chuckle behind you and feel him step closer to you, pressing himself against your ass and leaning over so that his chest is flush with your back. 

“Nope, not at all.” His breath tickles your ear as he whispers into it. 

“Now I'd be quiet if I were you, girl,” he tells you, his tone almost threatening. “Unless you want to wake the whole town, of course, cause now that I’ve started, I ain't gonna stop.” Your eyes widen and a whimper falls from your lips as he finishes his threat and pushes his top half off of you. 

“Maybe you’d like that, huh, little girl?” he pauses his sentence to rip your pants and panties down in one fluid motion, making you cry out.

“Let the whole town watch me fuck you, show everyone who you belong to, who this cunt belongs to.” He knows you too fucking well, knows that you’re thinking about it now, salivating over the thought of someone walking in on you like this, your pants around your ankles, him, balls deep inside of you, taking what he wants. 

“Dirty little girl, out here whorin’ herself out to me so quick. Slut’s just damn desperate for some good fuckin’ cock.”

You hear a sharp zip from somewhere behind you and you struggle out of instinct, pushing up on the hand holding you down. He ignores your protest and slams himself into you, sheathing himself in one fluid motion, giving you no warm-up or time to adjust. 

You expected him to be big, but you weren't expecting this. He's fucking huge, stretching you out and reaching depths you didn't even know existed. You scream out at the sudden burning intrusion and Joel moves the hand that isn't on your neck to your mouth, silencing you halfway through the outburst. 

The tears that fall from your eyes catch on the palm of his hand as he brings his cock almost all the way out before slamming himself back in, setting a brutal pace. 

“Tha’s alright baby, Ima take good care of you,” Joel assures you through gritted teeth. “Make you feel real good creamin’ all over my fat cock.”

Your fingernails scrape the surface of the table once he releases your hands, scrambling for purchase as Joel slams into you without remorse. You’re almost surprised at how quickly you feel the knot in your stomach start to build back up, the pain promptly turning to pleasure as Joel brutally shoves his cock into your already-sore pussy. 

The sounds of Joel's grunts, your muffled sobs, and the squelching of your cunt quickly fill the room, you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so cock-drunk on Joel. Right now, the only thing you can focus on is the way the head of his dick slams into your G-spot with every harsh thrust. 

The way his dick drags against your walls makes you clench with every swift pass. That combined with the way his hips slap against your ass might just be the best thing you’ve ever felt. 

Your body begins to go slack, your stomach and chest pressing harder into the table, you barely even register Joel's hand being removed from your mouth until you hear your unfiltered moans break through. 

“Jus’ wait one second, darlin,” Joel's voice is strained as he talks. You try to nod back at him but find that it's a bit hard when your bones have melted. His pace never falters as he reaches down to where he pulled his pants down just enough to free his thick cock and heavy balls. 

When his hand finds the open buckle of his belt, he tugs it through the loops and uses the edge of the table to fold it once before bringing it to your lips, pushing it toward you until you bite down on it. 

He tells you something, by his tone it sounded like a command, but you can’t seem to make out the request.  If you weren’t drooling before, you certainly are now with the taste of leather on your tongue. Joel smirks to himself as your moans quiet down with the help of the belt. 

“There ya go, such a good girl holdin’ on t’ that for me,” he runs his fingers through your hair as you keen at his praise. He can feel your cunt tighten around him as your second orgasm approaches once again and he has to steel himself so as not to come right then and there like some teenager. Instead, he brings his hand down to touch your clit again, not with his thumb, but with his middle three fingers, rubbing up and down, immediately setting a furious pace. 

The new sensation combined with the pistoning of his hips pushes you over the edge and you have to bite down on the belt so you don't scream as you receive the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had. It's like nothing you’ve ever felt before, the white-hot pleasure almost blinding you, and the force of it almost pushing him out of your cunt. 

You sob as you listen to Joel talk you through it, telling you how good you're doing for him, how you were made for him to stuff his cock into. His pace never falters as you gush around him, but he does push himself further into you so as to not be forced out of you. 

The strength of his thrust is enough to surge you forward, the table screeching on the concrete floor below you as it too is moved forward slightly. After you come down completely from your high, he grasps your hands and tugs them behind your back for leverage, fucking down into you to chase his own pleasure. 

“Goddamn, darlin, tight, young, little cunt, squeezin’ the fuckin’ life outta me.” His dirty words are almost humiliating as he throws them out, but you love every moment of it, the way you clench around his cock giving you away quickly. 

“Oh, you like that, little slut?” he almost sounds surprised as he continues rambling. 

“Filthy little thing, lettin’ some old man stuff his cock into your sweet little pussy. ‘F you didn’t take dick so good I would think you’d be a damn virgin.” You whine beneath him as much as you can with the leather between your teeth, a shameless request for him to keep talking. 

“Yeah, you like that, huh, little girl?” He grants your wish, spewing more filthy comments every few thrusts. “Like bein’ told what a f-fuckin’ whore you are f’ me?” You keep, drooling on the belt trapped between your teeth.

Suddenly, you feel the large hand that was pinning your neck disappear, only to reappear on your ass, making your eyes widen as Joel quickly slides to your other hole, his thumb right above the tight ring of muscle. 

Usually, you would want to struggle, but for some reason, the thought of Joel taking you there is something you find yourself wanting. He feels you squeeze around him again and he chuckles at your desperation. 

“Now, you’re just full of surprises, ain't ya, princess?” He says, his voice even more strangled than it was before. It almost sounds like it should be painful for him to talk. He stops talking for a moment to allow his saliva to drip down and slide down your ass crack. 

“You’d let me fuck you here, wouldn't you, little girl?” Fuck this man, you both know the answer to that. 

“Put my dick in this pretty little ass?” When you don't object, you feel him spit on top of his thumb again before pushing it into you. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes curl as he slides his thumb into you until he can’t anymore. The intrusion triggers your third orgasm, your body melting into the table as you press back into him. It’s less intense than the first two, but you are still fully consumed by the waves of pleasure that wash over you.

If you had been standing, you would have fallen to your knees. You’ve never felt so full in your life, the feeling almost overwhelming as he leans on top of you again, continuing to whisper filth into your ear. You can tell he’s getting close by the way he lets go of your wrists and tangles his fingers into your hair, slamming himself somehow even deeper inside of you.  

“Tell me who these fuckin’ holes belong to, princess,” he spews out through gritted teeth, pulling the belt away from your mouth and throwing it somewhere off to the side. 

“Who makes you feel good, makes these little holes feel good?” When you don't answer immediately, your unleashed moans and whimpers making it almost impossible, he uses the hand that’s not fingering your ass to deliver a sharp slap to your left cheek. 

“Fuck, fuck Joel it’s you,” you practically sob as you tell him what he wants to hear, what you want him to hear. 

“T-these holes are yours Joel, you make them feel so good, they belong to you, all yours,” you cry out frantically. Satisfied with your response, he rubs over the red spot on your skin before returning his hand to your neck. 

“That's right,” he praises you softly and you soak up every word. “Such a good fuckin’ girl, knowin’ who she belongs to.” He thrusts into you half a dozen more times before his pace finally starts to falter. 

“W-where do you want me, sweet thing?” As he asks you, all you can think is “fuck this man for being respectful with shit like that.”  If he hadn’t asked, you probably would have shoved him away, but instead, you make another stupid decision—why the fuck not at this point? 

“I-inside, Joel, inside me, oh my god, fucking c-come inside me,” you’re only slightly aware of how desperate you sound as you beg for his cum, but again, you can’t seem to find it in you to care. You let your cheek rest on the cool surface of the table and close your eyes, too exhausted to hold yourself up any longer. 

You hear Joel groan and start to say something above you, but he cuts himself off as he releases inside you with a strangled moan, almost like he is biting down on his lip so as not to shout. 

A stream of curses laced with your name spills from his lips as he twitches and pulses inside you. The feeling of his hot cum spilling into you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It seems like forever before he stills, practically collapsing on top of you, his cum dripping around his softening cock and down your thighs. 

Despite his weight on top of you, you think you could probably manage to fall asleep there. Your body has never felt so spent and tired, every muscle sore in one way or another. Joel waits only a minute before lifting himself off of you, and you attempt to lift your head to follow his movement, only for your cheek to be gently pressed back onto the table by his palm. 

“Jus' hold on a second, princess.” His tone is softer than you’ve ever heard it, and it makes your heart warm, but you can't resist the perfect opportunity to tease him as it presents itself. 

“You’re happier after you get your dick wet,” you say with a small smile as you follow his request, letting your eyes close as you bask in the feeling of euphoria that’s taken over your body. 

At your snippy comment, you expect him to scold you, or maybe to swat your behind, which is still presented for him. What you don’t expect is to feel his tongue on your spent cunt. Your body jolts and your eyes snap open at the unexpected feeling, your reflexes causing you to try to sit up again, only to be pushed down by Joel’s hand on your lower back. 

“I said to wait a second, darlin’,” he says as he pulls away from you, his tone more stern now. He waits until you nod your head to return to your pussy, dipping into your hole and lapping up your mixed release. You shudder as his tongue grazes your overstimulated clit, but do your best to hold still for him. 

After he seems to have gotten his fill, you feel him pull away again and stand up to lean over you. His hand suddenly grabs your chin, making you twist your neck slightly so that you are looking up at him. He keeps his mouth shut as he brings it to his own before squeezing your cheeks, making you open your lips, and drops his jaw open. 

You gasp as you feel the combination of his spit and your cum mixed with his own slowly spill onto your tongue. He keeps his eyes open and locked onto yours as he keeps your lips together and lets the liquid drip into your mouth. When he pulls away, he replaces his lips with his hand, forcing your mouth shut. 

“Swallow,” he commands. You obey without a second thought and let the substance slip down your throat. He smiles when he's sure you’re done and moves his hand, motioning for you to open up. You do, and he smirks as he sees every drop gone. 

“Good girl,” he mutters as he lays back down on top of you, and you let your body rest on the table again, enjoying the feel of his body on top of yours. As the two of you stay there, catching your breath, you feel Joel's chest start to vibrate against your back in silent laughter. You furrow your brows and attempt to stand and roll him off you, but only succeed in the latter, your legs failing as if they were made of jello. 

Joel stands back and tucks himself back into his jeans as you slump back down on the table, temporarily accepting defeat. You see him take a seat in the chair next to you out of the corner of your eye, his chest still rattling the slightest bit. 

“What the fuck do you find so funny, bastard?” You slur your words, your tone is a lot less fierce than you had wanted it to be. He looks at you before answering, and you feel your both heart and your cunt clench at the almost adoring look in his eyes as he meets your gaze. Maybe the asshole will try to be decent for a moment, his expression promising. 

“Looks like your gonna have t’ scrub this table again, princess,” he says, his tone toeing the line of playful. You feel your lips tug up into a smile as you recognize the fact that this is probably Joel being friendly. Or at the very least, he’s not at your throat at the moment—in a bad way anyway—so you’ll take it. Upon seeing your smile, he sits back further and allows himself a small smile of his own as he continues to watch you sink into the polished wood beneath you.

“Fuck you, Miller,” you say. You erupt into a quiet yet delirious fit of exhausted giggles, Joel following soon after with his own gentle chuckle. 

“Might have t’ give me a second for that, princess.”

*****

Pt. 2 here

[sansacherie]

does anyone have alicent centric fanfics that are more worthy of my time.... then whatever season 2 is lmafo.

and you know im open to rhaencient... but fics that tear down rhaenyra for her faults as well, fics where alicent isnt degraded in order to be "worthy", fics that are just complete aus (ie alicent never marries viserys or she has only daughters, baelon lives, rhaenyra has brothers by aemma etc or viserys is never king!! they chose rhaenys!!!!) fics where alicent and rhaenyra have a tragic toxic love story but alicent is allowed to LOVE HER CHILDREN MORE. fics that start off with alicent and rhaenyra being in love/unrequited love and then turning on rhaenyra for her children sake/alicent wanting revenge against viserys!!! friends to lovers to enemies!!! fics that explore how these two women were once everything to each other but now tragic enemies as they deserved to be!!! fics where they end up falling in love with other women!!!!! especially alicent!!!!!!!!!! rhaenyra is treated as her first love turned first and last enemy and this character has the arc of alicents ally/eventual love of her life or fics where rhaenyra decides to give up her crown FOR ALICENT. where she decides it isnt worth it. she chooses peace and alicent!! fics where rhaenyra is asked to scarifice and realize her wrongs in order for her to find redemption and for her and alicent to find a path forward. fics where rhaenyra turns against her father for what he did to alicent!! open to these type of fics because they >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

whatever the fuck is this

my god i love wlw but i love good writing more!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i know there are amazing writers in this fandom who love alicent (and just hotd female characters in general!!!) as much as i do and so much more capable of doing better by her!!!!!!!!!

even better if longfic 🙏 what's more i promise to review these fics if i like them!!!

[boobabietch]

Chapter V: “Victoria O’Hara Looses Her Fucking Mind. Again!” | Diana Taurasi x OC

Warnings: V is loosing her shit (one more time) and Diana being the menace she is, and barely noticeable alcohol consumption

A/N: honestly guys I think I ate this time, with all due respect I fucking love this chapter that’s it. I know I said this would be out last week but I’m a struggling college student and I wanted this chapter to be extra fucking perfect, I just hope you guys love it like I do. Per usual you already know the drill, English is not my first language so yeah just lmk if my dumbass self screwed somewhere so I can change it and not embarrass myself, likes reblogs and comments(!!!) are highly appreciated and my ask box is always open for whatever you want to tell me. With nothing more to say, enjoy. Love Sof :))

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“From Enemies to Allies? The All-Star Weekend Just Got a Lot More Interesting with O’Hara and Taurasi Both On Team Delle Donne!”

I hated her. And I wanted her. And I didn’t know which feeling was stronger.

I hated it.

She was going to be on my side, and I hated it. But I hated more the fact that she was the only thing clouding my mind right now. I just made the All-Star team, and my thoughts went straight to her.

Her words, her voice, her talent, her body, her hands, her lips, her hips—

Stop. It. Right. There.

I shook my head as I stepped onto the court, the noise of the crowd surrounding me, but it felt muted in comparison to the chaos inside my mind. Diana Taurasi was a living legend, and now I had to play alongside her. I had spent months battling against her on the court, and now she was going to be my teammate.

Great. Just what I needed.

As the game began, I focused on my breathing, trying to block out the fact that she was always right beside me, moving with that effortless grace that had everyone talking. The first few minutes were a blur of adrenaline and deafening cheers, the thrill of the crowd igniting a fire in me. I was quick on my feet, executing plays and sinking shots. But every time I caught a glimpse of Diana out of the corner of my eye, a rush of irritation mixed with something dangerously close to desire surged through me.

“Nice pass!” she called out after I made an assist, and my heart raced, my body responding to her enthusiasm despite my annoyance. I shot her a glare, determined to keep my focus. “Shut your mouth and focus on the game, Taurasi.”

She chuckled, that infuriating laugh that somehow sent butterflies through me. “Just saying, kid. You might actually be useful.”

As the game wore on, we fell into a rhythm. The crowd erupted every time we executed a play, the energy lifting me higher with each basket. But every time Diana scored or made a defensive stop, I could feel the heat radiating from her, and it made my competitive spirit flare. I hated that I was so drawn to her.

I was that stupid moth who crashed against the glass of the lighting bulb.

By the end of the first half, we were in the lead, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. But as we huddled together, I could feel her presence just behind me, an electric charge that made it hard to concentrate on the coach’s strategy. I forced myself to focus on the game plan, but all I could think about was how close she was, how I could feel the warmth radiating off her.

After the final buzzer sounded, signaling our victory, the cheers of the crowd washed over me like a tidal wave. But before I could relish the win, I turned to find Diana standing right there, a triumphant grin plastered across her face. “See? Not so bad playing with me, huh?”

“Don’t push it,” I shot back, unable to hide the smirk threatening to break through.

She stepped closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’s wrong baby?”

My arms fell, as I walked to be just beside her, my lips close to her ear, my heart racing for reasons I refused to acknowledge. “I said don’t fucking push it”

“Star Power: O’Hara and Taurasi Prove They’re a Force to Be Reckoned With”

With that, we made our way to the after-party, the tension sizzling between us like a live wire. The place was packed, music blasting and lights flashing in every direction. I grabbed a drink, needing something to cool the heat rising in my cheeks from our earlier banter. But as the night wore on, and the small talk with people who I didn’t really care about, but for some reason they cared about me turned poisoned, I couldn’t shake the feeling of her presence. It was intoxicating and maddening all at once.

The atmosphere was full with excitement, laughter spilling from all corners of the room. I tried to drown out the noise, but every beat of the music seemed to pulse in time with my heart, and every glance in Diana’s direction sent a rush of heat through me.

I caught her across the room, chatting animatedly with some teammates, her laughter cutting through the crowd like a siren call. I tried to focus on my drink, but my eyes kept drifting back to her. The way she moved, the way she commanded attention, it was infuriating and captivating at the same time. I hated that she could pull me in like this.

“Earth to Victoria!” a A’ja nudged me, pulling me from my thoughts. “Girl you good? You’ve been staring at Taurasi like she’s about to jump off a cliff.”

“Shut up,” I replied, rolling my eyes even as I felt the heat creeping up my neck. “I’m just… observing.”

“Observing, huh? Is that how we calling that this days? You’ve got that look, like you’re about to take her out or something.”

“More like I want to beat the shit out of her” I shot back, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

But the truth was, I was feeling anything but hostile. The tension was thick in the air, and I could sense Diana moving closer, the hum of energy sparking between us like static electricity. She was a force of nature, and I hated that I wanted to get swept up in it.

I made my way through the crowd, drink in hand, hoping to find a quieter corner. I stood on a secluded part of the place, the music now muffled for the walls that separated me from the chaotic mess inside, but somehow, it was peaceful, well as peaceful as you could be in a party, that was until I felt a presence behind me.

I didn’t even had to look back, my head just hung low knowing exactly who was there.

“You’re really not going to let this go, are you?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light, even though my heart raced.

She looked at me, eyes glinting with mischief. “Let what go? The fact that we actually make a pretty good team? Or the fact that you’re secretly obsessed with me?”

“Fuck. Off.” I shot back, crossing my arms. “You know what? Every time you speak I actually consider throwing you into the nearest wall.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” she replied, stepping closer, the air crackling between us.

I narrowed my eyes, refusing to back down. “I don’t think you really want to find out.”

“Why not? It could be fun,” she challenged, her voice low, enticing.

I felt my resolve slipping, drawn to her in a way that made my skin prickle with awareness. We were standing too close, the heat of her body igniting something deep within me.

Suddenly, the playful banter shifted, and I was acutely aware of every inch between us. “You’re fucking impossible,” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat.

“And you hate that you love it,” she shot back, her gaze steady, daring me to disagree.

I found myself leaning closer, caught in her magnetic pull. I couldn’t help it; the tension had become unbearable.

“Is this how you deal with the girls that make you feel threatened Taurasi?” I breathed, my heart racing.

“Only the ones that are pretty” she replied, her voice low and smooth.

Before I knew what I was doing, I pushed her shoulder lightly, my frustration boiling over. “How about you stop acting like a bitch who own the fucking place,” I hissed, but the fight was half-hearted.

“Yeah? How about I don’t” she smirked, pushing back against me with just enough force to knock me off balance. “Maybe I’ll own you too.”

I laughed, a sound laced with disbelief and desire. “You really think you’re the shit don’t you?”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she took a step closer, her breath mingling with mine. “Why don’t you find out?”

The room faded away as I stared into her eyes, the challenge hanging heavy between us.

And. I. Leaned. In.

I leaned in!!! Can you fucking believe that????

And suddenly we were kissing

It was raw and heated, our lips crashing together in a mix of frustration and longing.

It was reckless and intoxicating, and I hated how much I craved her. My hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as she deepened the kiss, her fingers threading through my hair.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless and wide-eyed, I felt a mix of triumph and disbelief. “What the fuck Taurasi” I whispered, half-laughing, half-stunned.

Diana smirked, the challenge still burning in her gaze. “I really think you know what the fuck O’Hara”

And just like that, she left, but now there was an undercurrent of something deeper, a connection I hadn’t expected but couldn’t ignore. I hated that I was drawn to her, that the fire between us was undeniable. But maybe, just maybe, this was a battle I was finally willing to lose.

Wait did I really said that?

"What the Hell Just Happened? Why Do Victoria O’Hara Always Ends Up In This Position?"

Requests are Open!

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