#Damn are you conceding already sir

[thelesbianthespianposts]

remember last night guys? when a candidate for president asked his debate partner to leave multiple times? remember that

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 9

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Word Count: 6,800

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, peril, blood, and angst. 

Part 9: Breach

Loco’s eyes widened as he watched the surveillance feed. 

“Coño carajo,” he cursed in Spanish. “Hey, boss.” 

Frank was just about to step out of their “office” (a dusty back room behind the library). He stopped at his subordinate’s voice and turned back, frowning when he caught sight of the large triple screens. 

A helicopter had just landed on the roof of the mansion. It had a red banner painted with “Fiesta Tours” on the side. The door slid open, and out tumbled a skinny kid who fell onto his knees and threw up on the ground. 

His blonde girlfriend came out and patiently rubbed his back. Though she rolled her eyes at something the pilot said. 

It was Billy Butcher, which meant the other three assholes jumping out of the helicopter were the rest of his team that had eluded Antonio’s men in Medellin.  

“Damn it,” Frank muttered. “How’d they get through our airspace without tripping any alarms?”

“They stole a fucking tourist trap, bro,” said Loco.

By the time he glanced up, Frank had already moved back to his desk to unlock a large safe with both a code and a fingerprint. Out of the safe came a briefcase. Loco stood from his chair and grabbed his gun.

Frank popped open the case and grabbed one of several vials. He gave one to Loco and pocketed two more before he locked the briefcase again.

“Keep them busy,” Frank said. He pressed a finger to the communicator in his ear. “Saul, we have company. Meet me upstairs, then prepare the getaway as a contingency.”

“Got it,” Saul responded. He was currently on patrol on the east side. Frank knew it would take him roughly two and a half minutes to get back.  

“Y el Capitán?” Loco asked. And the Captain?

Meaning Soldier Boy. Instead of answering him, Frank pulled out his cell on his way out of the room. Loco was on his heels. 

“What?” said Ben. As usual, he sounded annoyed at being bothered. 

“Sir, we have a breach,” Frank said. “It’s Butcher.” 

Fuck. Ben grimaced, though he didn’t voice his displeasure. His hand tightened on the cell phone at his ear.

“Where is she?” he asked. He heard Frank give a command to check the feed. It was Loco’s voice that gave the reply.  

“In the garden,” Frank answered. 

Typical, Ben thought. The garden was your favorite place. You hadn’t told him that, but he’d caught you there often enough.

“All right, get her to the helicopter,” Ben said. “Take her to the next house. I’ll deal with Butcher and his cocksucking crew.” 

Frank resisted the urge to raise a brow, even if his boss couldn’t see it. Extracting you from the house was not the original plan. But he agreed and parted ways from Loco with a nod. 

When Saul caught up with Frank in the hall on the top of the stairs, second floor, Frank handed him a vial of V24. Both men shot up together, each taking sharp breaths at the intensity of unnatural green-hued chemicals running through their veins. 

Frank recovered first, rolling his shoulders as new awareness made his senses sharp, his blood already pounding with adrenaline. 

“The most expensive damn high I’ve ever had,” Saul remarked, smirking. 

Frank didn’t take the same pleasure in it, but he conceded that with a nod. Being able to see through walls was an advantage, at least. It just took a moment for his vision to even out and normalize.

“Get it done,” was all he said.

While Saul continued on to the roof with super speed, Frank made his way down the stairs, and through the French doors to the backyard. He found you there, sitting on the grass with a book in the garden. 

Good, he thought in approval of your jeans and V-neck top. You would be easier to transport this way. 

He called your name, and you greeted him with a smile, until you noticed his sternness.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

Frank pulled you up by your arm, firm but not painful. 

“We have to go,” he said. Despite your protests, he led you back inside, then up the narrow staircase that you realized would have to lead to the roof. There was nowhere else to go on the roof but up, and away. Frank was taking you away from the house. Why?

“It’s my team, isn’t it,” you said.

You stared up at Frank’s profile. His mustache often obscured his expression, but you caught the way his brows tightened, as did his hold on your arm. It felt tighter, stronger than usual, and not just because he hadn’t manhandled you in a long time. 

It raised your suspicions, but your heart was also thumping faster as you realized that your friends were here somewhere.

“Where’s Ben,” you demanded to know. A tendril of worry laced up your spine. “Where the hell are we going?”

“To a secure location,” Frank replied. But he didn’t give you more than that. You dug your heels in on the stairs and tried to work your arm out of his grip, but he was unrelenting. 

“Let me go!” you snapped. “I have to talk to them.”

“Boss’s orders,” Frank said, his jaw tightening. You could tell he didn’t want to hurt you, but he would drag your ass up the rest of these steps.

You were reduced to pleading. “Frank, please! He’s in danger.”

His eyes sharpened at that. 

“You may not believe it, but they can take him down,” you said. Desperation shone in your eyes, and you fought the conflicted nature of your emotions in what you were about to say.  

“If I’m there, maybe I can talk down both sides,” you argued. “I know you’re just following orders, but if you care about your next paycheck, you’ll fucking listen to me.”

Frank seemed to consider your words for all of three seconds. 

Then he continued to haul you up all the way to the roof. You were struggling and shouting, but you were made to go all the same. 

When the door opened to the roof, however, Frank caught a slender fist in his face, knocking him right out. You gasped as the man careened back and nearly bowled you over, but that same hand caught him by the collar and kept him from crushing you. 

You looked up and brightened with an incredulous smile.

“Kimiko!” 

The smaller woman gave you a smile and a small wave with her free hand. But before she could finish Frank off, you raised your hands against her raised fist.

“Wait! Don’t kill him,” you asked. “Just leave him here.”

Kimiko looked confused for a second, but she did as you asked and helped you let him down gently to the ground. You noticed the blood hastily wiped from her hand and face—onto her black leather jacket.  

“Where is everyone?” you asked. 

Kimiko signaled ahead, but you opened the door to the roof real quick, just to see the littered bodies of dead men on the ground. You blanched at the sight. 

You turned away from the scene and followed Kimiko, who lowered her head as she continued down the stairs. 

Despite yourself, you hoped Loco and Saul had gotten away, at least. They were your captors, but they’d never treated you badly. You’d even cooked for them, hung out with them, listened to them bicker and bitch, and watched them cheat one another at cards. They were criminals, but they weren’t monsters. 

And not wanting to see them die only scratched the surface of your conflict when you thought about Ben. 

As you and Kimiko jogged through the mansion, heading toward the sounds of fighting and yelling and destruction downstairs, your guilt began to grow. 

You knew very well what Ben had done. But the truth was, you no longer had the heart to condemn him.

To play jury and judge and executioner—interning him into an ice box until he could be neutralized, or until the end of his unnaturally long life.

To continue making him pay beyond his forty years of imprisonment. 

You’d seen the worst of him: his salaciousness, his temper, his trauma, his destructive coping mechanisms, and painfully outdated ideals. 

Yet, Ben was more than all of that. He’d allowed you to see more. 

But the moment you said any of that, you knew how he would react. Just as you knew how M.M. would look at you. And it made your chest ache and your mind spin faster than it already was. 

What the fuck am I going to do?

You got your opportunity to answer that question when a star bolt shot right in front of you and Kimiko—through the open door of a large room. 

It was big enough to be a ballroom for parties, but right now it was a battlefield between your friends, a support team of CIA officers, Loco and his team of men, and of course, Ben at the center. He was in his full Soldier Boy gear, complete with the stupid-ass helmet. 

While Hughie had clearly been made to hang out at the fringe of it all. He stood there, looking worried with a gun in his hand that he didn’t look all that comfortable with.

He noticed you and Kimiko first and called your name. You smiled and accepted the joyful hug he gave you (after he carefully tucked his gun in his pants). 

“You’re actually okay! I can’t fucking believe it,” he said. But then he quickly amended, “I mean, we all hoped you were still alive, I just mean—”

You just laughed and teasingly slapped his cheeks between your hands to stop his fumbling. “Thanks for coming to find me.”

Ben ears must’ve been perked up, because he sharply glanced over. You getting free wasn’t part of his plan, you knew, and he did not look pleased. Your amusement fading, you let go of Hughie and met Ben’s gaze across the room.

You were worried. About him. About everyone. 

“We don’t have to do this,” you told Hughie. Kimiko had already joined the fray to stop a gunman from clipping Frenchie from behind. 

Your earnest gaze met Hughie’s confused one. “He’s not what you think he is…well, not exactly, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “He fucking kidnapped you!”

“Technically, he didn’t. It was one of his overzealous groupies,” you replied, your expression firming at the thought of Antonio. “That guy’s dead. But there are more reasons. I’ve gotta stop this somehow—”

“That’s…not a good idea,” Hughie was saying, and even tried to stop you when you took the gun from his pants. But you ignored his protests and headed right into the jungle of bullets and star bolts, and the crunch of bone and blood. 

You didn’t shoot to kill, evading and defending yourself more than fighting back. Annie noticed you with a happy smile, as did Frenchie and M.M. Butcher was busy shooting at Ben with a fucking launcher. 

But Ben avoided the massive projectile with a simple knock of his shield. It sailed through the back windows, eventually exploding into the sky. 

For a moment, there was enough of a lull in the room that you took the opportunity to open your mouth, prepared to call out to both men.

However, something else broke through the windows—from the opposite side. 

It was a dart that landed between Ben’s feet, black and flashing a small red light. He rose a brow. But before he could just kick the thing away, it detonated.

The explosion was bigger than even Ben anticipated. It blew up a huge crater in the ground, knocking him and everyone else surrounding several feet away. 

Even you were tossed back. Your gun clattered away from you as you landed painfully on the ground, most likely onto a dead body. You blinked the haziness out of your vision as you struggled to recover, to pull yourself up. 

“What the fuck?” you heard Ben utter. 

When you turned your head, you couldn’t help echoing his statement. 

Black Noir was standing just before the large crater, the one he’d apparently created.

He’s dead, you thought dizzily. Or at least, he was supposed to be. Homelander killed him six months ago. 

Seriously, what the fuck. Ben was bewildered, to say the least. He’d been told that his unfortunate spawn had offed Noir, but yet here he was, the little shit. 

“Fucking Noir,” Ben said with a laugh, after he’d stood and made a show of rolling his neck. “What frosted hole did you crawl out of?”

The supe didn’t respond. Didn’t even move a muscle from where he stood in the center of the room. And the rest had gone quiet by now, waiting and watching as two predators approached one another.

“I heard you became a fucking mute,” said Ben. He smirked at the crater in his floor. “You’ve figured out how to make an entrance, I’ll give you that. But we both know you’re not up to this. You could never even shine my fucking shoes.”

Ben tossed the first punch. He expected the way Noir deflected, but not the force behind his blow, which pounded below Ben’s ribs and forced a grunt out of him. He actually felt it.

Along with subsequent punches Noir got in before Ben finally remembered to raise his shield and get back on the offensive. But now he was annoyed. Noir was never this strong, not even on his best day. What kind of bullshit does Vought got him hopped up on? More V?

And then, a solid punch to his face had Ben stumbling back. He caught his smarting jaw with no small amount of irritation, and he wiped at his nose. 

It came away bloody. Ben stared at it in disbelief, and then, in anger. Back from the dead or not, he was going to put Noir back in the fucking ground today. 

His blood burned hot. So much that he realized, belatedly, that his chest was starting to get that nuclear glow. 

Good, he thought. He’d blow a third hole through this cocksucker, and whoever else got in his way. 

“Ben!” 

Your voice cut through the whirring in his ears as he grappled with Black Noir, just loud enough for Ben to notice you. You weren’t far from your friends, but he realized then how close to danger you were. 

He was impossibly hot now, and still fighting hand-to-hand with Noir. His jaw locked as he tried to focus on the fight and figure out what to do. It was getting harder and harder to focus—on Noir, on the power growing inside him, on your worried face. 

Shit, wait—

And he lost control. 

It was all of seconds. 

Annie was just ahead of you, closer to the blast zone. So in those last precious moments, you made a decision: you pushed Annie out of the way.

Then your feet were once again swept from under you, and you flew back even harder than the first time. You blacked out before you had the chance to feel any pain.

That came later, the next time you opened your eyes.

When your vision was able to clear of the mess of colors and shapes, sharpening into focus, you saw Frank as he pulled you out of the rubble. But it was at your expense, as a sharp flare of pain erupted in your side. 

You didn’t recognize the sound of your own voice, a strangled groan. In the distance, maybe you heard Annie’s voice. Or even M.M.’s, you couldn’t be sure. You flashed in and out of consciousness after that. 

The next scene you truly remembered was being laid down on the floor of a helicopter. A backpack was tucked under your head. The engine was loud, rearing to go. Frank was shouting to someone, whoever the pilot was (you hoped it wasn’t Loco). 

“She needs more than a medic,” you heard Frank say. For a man who was usually so stoic, you thought you heard grave worry in his voice. 

You managed to look down, and you frowned at the long piece of wood protruding from your side. It wept blood beneath your ribs.

Your light green shirt was slowly getting stained, but your mind was so fuzzy, it was hard for you to understand what was happening.

“Let’s go!” Loco shouted. 

Oh, no, you thought. He was going to fly this thing.

“We can’t take off yet,” said Saul. “Where’s—”

A soot-stained hand grabbed onto the frame of the helicopter’s open door. You recognized that hand, followed shortly by the rest of Ben. His helmet was off, shield tucked onto his back. He looked pissed.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he snapped. His frown deepened the moment he saw you, which you didn’t quite understand.

“Ben,” you said, even though it was an effort to do so.

Every breath was like a hot knife cutting deeper into your side. Your eyes closed at the pain, and at tears that burned down your cheeks. It also cut through the brain fog enough for you to realize this was bad.

It was very bad. 

A splintered chair leg had impaled your body. 

“Get a vial,” you heard him say. 

What? You struggled to open your eyes again. Ben was there, looking down on you with a different kind of frown, and something deeper in his green eyes. His sweaty hair fell over his brows, and you had a sudden itch to brush the strands aside. 

You were pacified a little when his half-gloved hand came to rest on your head, over your hair. His thumb traced over your brow. 

“Hurry the fuck up, Frank,” he said, briefly glaring over your head. Frank soon appeared at your side. He held a green vial in his hands, tinged with blue. Your eyes widened. 

“What…”

“That needs to come out first.” Frank nodded at something you couldn’t see. You didn’t have the strength to look down anymore. You knew this was it, though.

You were going to die.

Ben’s hand braced your shoulder. His eyes met yours. 

You didn’t understand the thoughts crossing through them, or his hesitation. But you did feel it when he grabbed the large wood splinter and slowly pulled it from your body. Your scream sounded almost inhuman to your own ears. 

At least the pain was enough to knock you out once again.

Ben had no such reprieve as he looked down at the gaping hole in your side. Scarlet blood ran and pooled by his knees, even slipped through his fingers and around his hand when he tried to clamp down on the wound. 

“Fucking do it already,” he said through gritted teeth. 

With a short nod, Frank injected V24 into your arm. 

You healed in minutes. 

Breath drew into your lungs—a reflex as chemicals flooded through your blood and knit your organs, muscle, and skin tissue closed, even regenerating the blood you had lost. And it felt like a switch had turned on in your brain, set to “high voltage.”

You sat up as a ragged sound erupted from your throat. A hand closed on your shoulder, and you instinctively fought it off. 

“Hey. Easy,” said Ben.

Your breathing was shallow as you met his eyes, focused on his face. You noticed Frank on your other side, poised to support you if you needed it. You looked down and noticed your blood-soaked shirt, the blood on the floor of the aircraft, and the empty syringe in Frank’s hand. 

“You shot me up,” you realized. Your voice shook, but anger drew your brows together before you whipped your head back to Ben. “You shot me up with V24!”

He stared back at you, his expression tightening. “I saved you.”

“And you kidnapped me. Again!” you shouted. 

“You were hurt, and I saved your fucking life! Again,” Ben countered, gesturing at you with his blood-stained hand. But you glared at him.

“You are the reason I needed saving,” you snapped. 

At that, Ben glared right back at you…but he stayed quiet. 

Good. You huffed and turned away from him. You folded your knees up to your chest and rested your forehead against your knees. 

You had nothing else to say to him. 

You ignored Frank’s helping hand when the helicopter finally landed at the next house—this time on the gravel driveway.

This place was at the top of a hill on the outskirts of a thick jungle. Once you were led inside, you could tell this house was smaller, though just as lavish as the last one.

Ben seemed too exasperated with you to follow you, instead going his own way to find his room upstairs. Frank led you to a guest room downstairs, where he informed you that he’d find you some new clothes. You were dismissive with him, and he left you alone soon after.  

Part of you felt bad for giving him a hard time. You knew he had saved you after the explosion. He’d likely gone out of his way to find you and pull you out of the rubble, but you couldn’t help it.

You were still salty about his part in your re-capture. Not to mention the fact that he’d given you temporary Compound V against your will. 

And speaking of which…

You sat on your new bed and looked down at your arms and hands, clenching and unclenching your fists. What mystery power had V24 given you?

As basic as it was, you felt…strong. Like you could run a marathon without stopping. Like you could punch straight through that wall, and not even feel it. You felt more than just confidence coursing through your veins, like no one and nothing could stand in your way.

Was this how Ben felt all the time? If so, you could almost understand why he could be such an asshole. 

But you also thought of how he’d been with you for the past couple of weeks; how much he’d shared with you about his parents, about his life before becoming Soldier Boy. And yes, how he’d saved you more than once. 

It just didn’t change the fact that he took you—away from your friends, and your chance at freedom. 

True to his word, Frank delivered a bag of clothes to your door about two hours after he’d left you in your new room.

You opened the door just enough to snatch the bag out of his hand, before closing the door in his face. You heard his tired huff on the other side, but soon enough, he walked away from your door. 

So you took your time in the shower, scrubbing grime and blood out of your hair, off your skin and from under your nails. Then you dressed in a shirt and some yoga pants from the bag Frank gave you.

And you tried not to miss the house in the mountains while you wandered this one. You opened every door you came across, finding more guest rooms, a laundry room, the kitchen.

But you stopped once you reached the gym, complete with an elliptical, a couple of treadmills, hand weights, a sparring mat, and a large punching bag.  

Venturing inside, you found some sports tape to wrap up your hands. Then you wandered over to the punching bag. With a resigned sigh, you aligned your hips correctly, bending your knees with your fists raised up to your chest. And then, steeling yourself, you tested out your strength with a single punch. 

It sent the punching bag flying on its chain and hitting the wall. A loud thump echoed through the room, even making you flinch. 

Yep. Definitely got super strength, you thought with a frown. Basic, but useful, you supposed. 

“Whoa,” Ben said with a chuckle. You turned your head and found the man leaning casually in the doorway. He was out of his uniform, freshly washed, and wearing a plain black shirt and dark wash jeans. It was a more modern look for him. You couldn’t help eyeing him from head to toe.

His sharpening grin told you that he noticed.

“At least you got something good,” he remarked. 

“Leave me alone,” you groused. You threw another punch. This one tossed the bag hard and created a massive indent and several hairline cracks in the wall. 

Feeling a suspect prickle across the back of your neck, you twisted and aimed your next punch behind you. Ben caught your fist with an amused grin. You found it damn infuriating. 

So you tossed out a left hook. He evaded it with a tilt of his head, but when he pushed you back, you actually felt his strength behind it. It only forced you a couple of steps back though. 

Ben baited you with a beckoning hand and a cocky smirk. “Take your best shot, sweetheart.” 

You narrowed your eyes. If nothing else, you were going to wipe that smirk off his bearded face. 

He let you come at him first, blocking your first and second blow before throwing a punch of his own. You grabbed his wrist and put all your strength in cracking your elbow into his face, making his head snap back with a grunt. 

Ben’s hand went to his nose, and actually came away bloody. He hummed, and his gaze flicked up at you. It was your turn to smirk. You got back into your ready stance and tilted your head at him in challenge. 

Ben chuckled and rolled his neck. “All right, baby doll. I’ll give you that one.”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you retorted.

You ducked his attempt to grab you and drove a knee into his gut. Then you stepped between his feet, breaking his stance and his balance by flipping him over your shoulder. You just didn’t expect him to drag you down with him.   

The two of you tussled across the ground, rolling off the sparring mat and onto the hard wood floor. Ben managed to pin you down for a moment, but apparently, you’d been endowed with superior flexibility as well. You grabbed his neck and kneed him in the ribs with all the force you could muster. 

Ben uttered an annoyed grunt. He flinched and unwittingly allowed you the opening you needed to wrap your thighs around his hips and flip you both over—until you were the one pinning him down. 

You knew he wasn’t trying his hardest, however. He was trying to subdue you, not fight you for real, or he would’ve thrown you off by now. He was going easy on you, and it made you irrationally angry.

So you slapped him. Ben blinked and looked up at you, incredulous. 

“Oh, you better be fucking careful—” 

You cut him off with another slap. “Fight me!” 

Ben grabbed your wrist before you could slap him again. His green eyes glittered dangerously, but you stared down at him, unafraid.

Both of you were breathing hard. You were straddling his waist, your free hand braced on the floor by his head. A line of sweat rolled down from your cheek to your neck. His eyes followed the path of it down your shirt.

By the time his hot gaze snapped up to yours, you knew you were in trouble. And there would be no escape. 

Ben hooked a hand on the back of your neck and crashed your lips against his. You slapped a hand against the floor, but you didn’t pull away. You did demand from him in turn, forcing your tongue into his mouth and grabbing at his hair. 

Ben wrenched up your shirt, and you helped him raise it over your head, followed by his shirt and belt. He sat up enough to drag your yoga pants down your thighs, while you broke open the button and zipper of his jeans. 

His lips attached themselves to your neck, sucking and biting until you cried out in his ear. You gripped his hair tight when his thick fingers found their way between your folds and slipped inside you.

Your sighs turned into moans of pleasure as his fingers worked you over, gathering your wetness and rolling over your clit roughly. 

“Ah, shit,” you uttered. All you heard from him were his sharp breaths as he concentrated. 

You instinctively squeezed his hips tight between your thighs. You knew he could get you off just like this, but you were too impatient. You stopped his hand and pushed him down, and with your newfound superhuman strength, you were actually able to do it. 

His back hit the ground with a thud, and he smirked up at you, letting you tug his jeans and boxer briefs down. 

You didn’t stop until his cock was freed, and once you positioned yourself, you sunk down, burying him into your wet heat. Both of you groaned in relief, and your inner walls tightened around him on reflex.

Ben’s grip on your hips became crushing. Had you been normal, it would’ve broken your bones. “Fuck. Gonna take me for a ride, baby girl?” 

“Hell, yeah,” you said, panting for breath. “Buckle the fuck up.”

You were surprised that he was letting you stay on top, but his eyes were alight with desire. You braced your hands on his shoulders and began, rolling your hips at a slow, deep, almost torturous pace. Ben’s head snapped against the floor in frustration, his eyes closing.

“Christ. If you don’t fucking move, I’m gonna do it for you—”

You snapped your hips hard, cutting him off from his words with a guttural sound. Your own release was building. You could taste it, but you could also admit, while pleasant, this pace wasn’t going to cut it. Bracing a hand on his chest, you increased the tempo of your rolling hips. 

Ben’s hands reached up to palm your breasts over your bra, then forcibly freed them without taking it off. You gave a pleased sound when he roughly squeezed and rolled his thumbs over pert nipples. Your hands wandered down his chest, over his arms, whatever you could reach. 

Then Ben’s jaw clenched, and he sat up with you in his lap. You felt his body tensing beneath you. With little warning, he spilled hot inside you. You gasped at the feeling of him, then at his insistent fingers above your entrance, roughly rubbing at your clit. Soon enough, you came along with him.

Gasping for breath, you clung to his shoulders. Both of you were dewy with sweat. Your bra was tucked up all the way into your shoulders, and neither of you had been able to completely slip out of your pants. His hair was wild, as was yours, you were sure. 

Ben’s hands pressed against your lower back, and his cock was still bottomed out inside you. But all you could do was hold onto him.

“See?” Ben said. His voice was deep and full of grit in your ear. “Isn’t it better this way?” 

Your brows furrowed, and you pulled away enough to see his face. 

“You…you prefer me as a supe, don’t you?” you said. Ben’s mouth closed, but he rose a brow as if to say, why not?

You finally noticed the deep cracks in the wall, the small craters in the floor under your knees, and by Ben’s head. There was still a bit of blood congealed around his nose from when you’d hit him.

“This isn’t me,” you said, though you hated how your voice shook. Emotion burned in your eyes, threatening to create tears.

You let go of his shoulders and slid off of him, pulling on your yoga pants and tugging down your bra. Ben watched you from his seat on the floor, with a tensing of his jaw and knitted brows. 

“I don’t know if you just like playing with me, or if you actually care about me,” you said, scooping up your shirt. Your eyes met his with an angry glare. 

“But if you ever give me Compound V against my will again, I’ll never forgive you.��

Butcher stared into his fifth of whiskey, already anticipating his second. If nothing else, Soldier Boy kept a well-stocked liquor cabinet. 

While the CIA combed through the half-ruined mansion, Butcher sat in the kitchen while Hughie and Annie’s arguing grated on his ears.

“She fucking took my gun, had this crazy look in her eye, like she was gonna talk Soldier Boy down. By herself,” said Hughie. “But her exact words were, he’s not what you think he is.”

“She saved me,” Annie said. “She wouldn’t just go with him.”

“She went willingly,” said Butcher. “Ain’t no other reason why she’s alive.”

“Nah, man,” M.M. said. He shook his head, then rested it on a thoughtful fist. “I saw it. One of his guys pulled her out after the blast. He took her.”

“But for what? Why would they want to keep her?” Annie said incredulously. 

“You think, maybe…Soldier Boy likes her?” Hughie asked.     

Butcher considered that with a dark chuckle, then a long sip of his whiskey. 

“We can work with that,” he said. “O’ course, now we got Black-fucking-Noir to deal with as well. Question is: was he after us, or Soldier Boy?”

Trust M.M. to address the elephant in the room. 

“And how the hell is that motherfucker alive?” he added.

Ben was contemplating that very same question. He sat at an old mahogany table in a stuffy old room, while his men argued in front of him. 

“He had regenerative abilities,” Saul reasoned. “Vought probably got him to a hospital after Homelander left him for dead.”

“No way, man. I heard his fucking intestines were hanging out of his stomach like a goddamn fish,” said Loco. 

“Maybe it wasn’t him,” Frank suggested. 

“No,” Ben said. He had his chin propped on his fist. “It wasn’t him. Not the real Noir.”

He didn’t know how he knew, but it was a gut feeling. Whoever that had been behind that black mask, he was strong. As strong as Homelander had been, which made Ben’s gears turn on the possibilities… 

“Saul.” Ben looked up at his subordinate. “Assemble a team. You’re going back to the States for some reconnaissance. I want to know exactly what the fuck Vought did, and what else they’ve got in their fucking arsenal. If Stan Edgar’s after me, then he’s gonna get it up the ass.”

He should’ve never let that little weasel get even an inch of a hold back into him. Now Stan thought he was going to double cross him? Again? 

Yeah, fucking right. The thought stirred the rage in Ben’s blood…but he forced it down to a low simmer. This time, he would be smarter about this. 

Stan had a bad habit of playing God. Ben wanted to know how he did it this time…though that same gut was telling him that he already knew.

No matter how you tossed and turned, the chemicals of V24 still coursing through your blood wouldn’t allow you to sleep. 

After another fruitless hour, you turned onto your side. This time, you had a room with an old-fashioned alarm clock on the nightstand. It read close to two in the morning. 

You huffed and dragged yourself out of bed, but you didn’t bother changing out of your pajamas before you slipped on your sneakers and left the confines of your room. 

You still weren’t being watched, but you knew better than to try and escape either. You noted the newly installed surveillance cameras in every hallway and every room. 

You wandered a bit aimlessly, but somehow, your feet took you down to the kitchen. There you found Ben, sitting at the kitchen table with his third beer. To be fair, you were sure it was like water to him. 

He looked up at you when you came in, making you stop short. You weren’t sure where you stood with him after today. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to be in his presence.  

But when he gestured to the empty seat in front of him, you found yourself grabbing a beer from the fridge and joining him at the table. 

“Can’t sleep?” you asked. It wasn’t the first time, and Ben was just as evasive. His eyes roamed your face before they returned to his beer. 

Regardless, you suspected what his answer might’ve been if he were honest. Because that moment—calling his name, seeing that nuclear light, pushing Annie out of the way, being pulled back into the world by searing pain in your side—it was keeping you up too.

“What do you feel when your chest lights up?” you asked. Maybe it was too bold of you, but right now, you felt confident enough in your super strength to test him.

Ben’s gaze found yours dryly. 

“Hot,” he replied. 

“Well, yeah. You’re pretty much radioactive,” you quipped. “I’ll be surprised if I don’t have fucking cancer yet.” 

He frowned at you in annoyance while you sipped at your beer. 

You hummed, tapping your nails on the glass in contemplation. “Maybe Vought could help you neutralize it. Even I can admit, they have some of the best scientists in the world on their payroll.”

“I wouldn’t let Vought handle a cup of my fucking piss, let alone poking and prodding and studying my fucking blood,” Ben snapped. He wouldn’t be anyone’s fucking lab rat. Not again.

“Like an experimental drug, for example. Given to you against your will,” you wryly supplied. But your voice was edged with agitation.

Ben’s face tightened into a glare. “If you wanna say something, fucking say it.”

You could later admit, you lost your temper then. You shoved away from the table, too angry to even take your beer with you.

“You know, you still haven’t even apologized!” you said. But before you could leave, Ben’s chair scraped across the ground as he stood and grabbed your wrist. He tugged you back to face him, and he stood looming over you with a steely frown.

“You want a fucking apology for saving your miserable life?” he asked. 

“If I’m miserable, it’s only because of you,” you spat. 

Ben scoffed, though his grip on your wrist tightened. “We both know that’s a lie.” 

You just stared up at his face and spewed words you knew you didn’t mean.

“You don’t know anything about me, Ben.” 

His body was wound tight, his frown tight and almost sneering. You were furious��at his smugness, at your inability to completely hate him. But you both faltered once your eyes met his. 

When his lips once again crashed against yours, you opened your mouth to him, pulling him down to you by his shirt.

Ben dragged you flush against him, first by your hips, then by your hair. He forced your head back so he could deepen the kiss, tangling his tongue with yours. 

His fingers then pressed their claiming marks into your side, in the same spot where you were stabbed this morning. Where you had only been healed with the chemicals still coursing through your veins. 

That thought alone cut through the intoxication of his kiss, and made you remember yourself.

You pushed hard against his chest. You were still strong enough to force him back a step or two. Ben stared back at you in irritation. 

“What’s your fucking problem?” he shouted. “Would you rather I’d let you bleed out on the fucking floor?”

“I know! I know I would be dead,” you said, matching his volume.  

No matter how you felt about Compound V, there was no doubt, he’d saved your life. 

But what you’d said to him then still stood. 

“If you hadn’t tried to waste Black Noir with a power you can’t control, then I wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place. That’s the definition of collateral damage,” you said. 

Ben crossed his arms defensively. 

“You’re the one who jumped in front of the bullet like a goddamn moron,” he said. “Ain’t my fucking fault if you get yourself killed.”

And just like that, your anger faded…into dismay.

He might very well care about you, but in many ways, he was still an asshole. And you were exhausted.

“Fine, Ben.” You blinked past the well of tears burning in your eyes, but your refused to let them fall. 

After you turned away from him, you didn’t see how his face fell, with both disappointment and guilt breaking through his anger. Your next words would sear into his mind for days to come. 

“Just leave me the hell alone.”

AN: 🤭 Please don't hate me! loll They'll get back on track soon enough...

Next Time:

“Why are you trusting me with this?” you asked. 

Ben’s lips quirked wryly, but there was little humor in it. His hand, half-covered by his glove, reached up to brush your chin. 

“I’m not,” he replied. “I expect you’ll jump at the chance to get back with Butcher and your asshole friends. But either way, I’m gonna find out if you were worth it.” 

Keep Reading: PART 10

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

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[calinaannehart]

maybe you're holding on too tight (the magic comes in letting go)

“Holy shit!” The exclamation slips from Buck before he can stop himself. 

He knows that Dawn has money, the constant rotation of designer handbags, mentions of exotic vacation destinations, and the obvious but tasteful plastic surgery she’s had has clued him in, but he hadn’t quite expected this. The house appearing before them as he crawls the jeep up the long driveway is expansive.

Built on top of one of the crests in Laurel Canyon, it’s a modern barn house design with large floor-to-ceiling windows that Buck can already tell offer a 360° view of the city below. Its higher elevation means it’s not overlooked by the two neighboring houses, which is a good thing given that the first thing Buck spots as he pulls to a stop in the carport beside the pool house is a St. Andrew’s cross erected next to the pool.

It's not the only piece of equipment Buck notices as he climbs out of the jeep, there’s also a cage, a pillory, and even a suspension frame. Some are more subtle, blending into the surroundings, and could be easily mistaken for an art installation or sculpture, others are obvious in their intention. The fact that they are so brazenly on display for anyone who might visit is such a Dawn thing to do. The Dominant isn’t shy about her lifestyle.

“Damn, look at that view,” Eddie whistles as he steps out himself and looks over the city spread out before them. The smog level is pretty low today meaning that the skyscrapers of downtown LA can be seen clearly in the distance. “I wonder what exactly she does to be able to afford this.”

Dawn, as much as she likes to talk, hasn’t gone into much detail about the vanilla part of her life, as small as it may be. She and bitch live a full-time total power exchange dynamic, which means Buck had expected to see elements of the lifestyle around her home, but he’d thought she might have just had a dedicated dungeon room or something rather than for it to be spread out over the entirety or her estate. They know that she has her own company and that bitch is employed as her personal assistant, but beyond that it’s still a mystery.

“Whatever it is, she’s raking it in,” Buck looks up at the house as he pulls out his phone. “I wonder how much this place costs.”

“Please tell me you’re not about to look it up on Zillow?”

“Come on, you can’t tell me you’re not the least bit curious—”

Eddie plucks Buck’s phone from his hand and reaches around to slip it into his back pocket, patting the seat of his pants firmly. “At least wait until you get home, hm?” Eddie says, tone firm in a way that tells Buck it’s not a suggestion.

“Yes, Sir,” He grumbles reluctantly. It would be rude, he concedes, to google the value of the home of the person they’re about to have coffee with. “Hey, uh, it’s just casual today, right?” Buck asks, suddenly unsure. Eddie hadn’t given him any instructions to get himself ready for a play session, and it’s not that he hasn’t enjoyed the times they’ve been joined bitch, but he’s not feeling like playing today.

“As casual as things get when Dawn is around,” Eddie jokes, but he cocks his head as he looks at Buck, reading him. “But, no, we’re not playing today. The invite was for coffee only.”

“Cool, not that—”

“You don’t have to defend your choices to anyone, baby. You know I’d never insist on anything we haven’t already negotiated on.” Eddie leans in and kisses him softly, affirmingly.

Of course, Buck does know that. He trusts Eddie implicitly, with his mind, with his body, with his very life. “I love you.”

The smile that Eddie gives him is so fucking soft, it’s the one that always makes Buck feel like he’s falling in love with the man all over again.

“God, you’re sappy,” Eddie groans playfully as he takes Buck’s hand. “But I love you, too.”

Read on ao3

If you like, please reblog and help me reach more dashboards

[imsodishy]

(prev) Part 3 (next)

The night Billy tracks Max to some weird fucking house in the woods isn’t so much a pressure release valve as it is a catastrophic failure of all systems.

It just builds all night. First his dad, with Susan fucking watching. Then he’s sent out into the night, starts at the Sinclair’s, because obviously. Smile politely, blink now, sound concerned, blink again, say thank you when they send him off to the Wheelers. Do it again, less polite, more flirtatious, match her energy, don’t chew through your own tongue and spit blood in her face. Go to the Byers.

And then Steve Harrington is there.

Billy’s desperate for that empty swell of nothing he gets sometimes. Grasping for it with his fingernails as Harrington lies right to his fucking face and Billy’s blood boils.

As Max refuses to just do what she’s supposed to for once, he can hear the high pitched whistle in his brain.

When Harrington tells him to get out, flat and even, like he’s right and Billy’s wrong for even being here,  Billy blows a fucking gasket. He blows all his gaskets. He can’t even see for all the steam that explodes outta him.

Then Max sticks him with a needle and there really is nothing for a good long while.

He's still kind of woozy when the Chief of police delivers them home. Susan ushers Max inside, Neil shakes the cop’s hand, a hearty, “Thank you, officer.”

Billy’s head feels stuffed with wool, he can’t hear himself as he yessirs and no sirs, the pair of them under the porch light. Can’t tell how he sounds, but he’s guessing not great judging by the pissed off slant of both their mustaches.

Whatever Max shot him up with keeps the rest of the night foggy. Silver linings.

He wakes up hurting. That big blank nothing inside him has finally showed up, a day late and a dollar short to keep him from making a mess, but better late than never he supposes.

He and Max are both grounded, but that means different things of course.

When Dad prompts him after the law is laid down Billy parrots, “Understood,” absolutely flat. He’s lucky Dad chooses to read it as contrite instead of flippant.

In the car Max keeps looking at him like she’s expecting something outta him, but he’s not sure what. She laid down the law too. It’s hazy but he knows damn well he conceded.

The Hawkins High rabble see Billy’s fucked up face and Harrington’s even more fucked up face and successfully put two and two together to make four. They needle and imply and outright ask in chorus, baby birds demanding to be fed. They want a story, any story will do, but Billy for once hasn’t actually bothered to come prepared. Even if he had he's got nothing in the tank to sell it.

It seems to take forever for them to notice that Billy’s not playing along. In the face of Billy’s, well, face, and his stony silence they pipe down, or slink away to make up their own stories without his input. The whispers are quick to turn mean. He and Steve both getting torn to shreds by the gears of the rumour mill.

He can’t bring himself to care.

It doesn’t take long before he can feel the scales of popularity tip out of his favor. Just a few too many days of being a bit too unpleasant and, just like that, the shine is off their California toy. They’ve spotted the defect. He didn’t even last a month.

The bruises fade, but the numbness persists.

At home Dad has gone from livid, to mad, to irritated, but Billy can sense they've hit the nadir and they’re already starting the climb back up the roller-coaster. Billy speaks when spoken to and Dad's fine with that up to a point, but this morning at breakfast he pointed at Billy with his fork and warned, “You had better be about done with this sulking, son.”

He hasn’t spoken to Max in three weeks. She’s gone from smug, to suspicious, to peeved. She stopped speaking to him in retaliation, but she only lasted three days. Now she huffs and puffs and tries to goad him into breaking too.

They’re both miserable in the chill as the days get colder. Even with the heaters going in the Camaro they keep they’re chins tucked into their collars. It’s not the most conducive environment for conversation anyway.

Climbing out of the passenger seat at the arcade Max leans back in to say, “Pick me up at six.”

They’re supposed to be home by six. Billy nods.

Max climbs back in and slams the door shut. “Seriously?” she demands, her eyes are wild and expectant.

It’s not him breaking, Billy just finally has something he can say to her, which, ironically is, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“How about, five thirty, shitbird, don’t be late!” she grumbles in a fairly insulting (though passable) imitation of his voice.

“And then?”

That pulls her up short, “What?”

“And then what would you say?”

She gapes at him for a minute before saying, “Kiss my ass,” and then she climbs back out of the car. Unclear if that’s what she’d say then or if it’s what she’s saying now. Both probably.

[drjohndisco]

Unexpected Confession

Pairing: Basil/Jack (+ Sprig)

Rating: M

Warnings: suggestive language/sexual innuendos, swearing, kiss descriptions, implications of past (non-consensual) mind reading.

Word Count: 1k+

Summary: Jack has a meeting he needs to get to, and Sprig ruins a quiet moment (as per usual.)

Notes:

1) I'm finally done!!! Woohoo!! (<- note from a guy who hyper-focused on this piece more than he probably should have.)

2) I haven't written dual perspective in ages, so I have no idea if this actually worked or not. Also, yes, I am aware that neither Basil's or Sprig's lore hasn't been explained (yet), please just roll with it. (The most important things here are that Basil (who is an alien with low level empathic abilities) works on site as a computer tech/on-call scientist, and that Sprig (a sentient mass of plant tendrils with eyes, but no visible mouth) can feel/always know of Basil’s location — due to previous shenanigans.)

[ Basil's lab - 18:00 ]

Basil

‘What do you want? I already thanked you for getting me out of jail.’ Basil asked, looking up at Jack, who was standing on the other side of the table. He was exhausted, and not particularly in the mood to talk to anyone. ‘Please, just go away. ’

‘No, I won’t. Because then I wouldn’t be a very good friend.’ Jack replied, sitting down on the chair across from him. Basil’s chest ached at the usage of the word friend, but he avoided the sensation. ‘You’ve been here for hours, go and get some rest. The base can keep ticking along without you.’

‘Sure,’ Basil laughed derisively. ‘And fish on your planet have wings!’

‘Uh, actually…’ Jack started. ‘There is a species that….’

‘Don’t fact check me.' Basil groaned. ‘It’s bad enough when Daniel’s around.’

'Fair enough.' Jack conceded.

Then Jack’s pager beeped - making him pull it from his pocket and look down at the message.

‘Oh, great! Another meeting’s been scheduled for about ten minutes from now.’ He complained, looking back up at Basil.

'What's this one for?'

‘Apparently they still need me to tie up some loose ends in terms of this whole attempted murder situation of yours.' Jack said, standing and pushing his chair away.

'How fun!' Basil intoned sarcastically. Then their eyebrows crinkled in confusion. ‘Aren’t you going to leave? You know what you’re like with time.’

'Just follow me to the doorway and I'll quit buggin' you.' Jack explained, beckoning him forward.

'Is that an order, Sir?'

'It is.' Jack stated, before turning and beginning to walk out.

'Fine.’ Basil grumbled, taking some of the paperwork from the table and putting it into their lap, turning the chair to the left. Then they begrudgingly scuffed it along the ground, following Jack. ‘Are you happy now?’

'Sure.' Jack replied, but stopped and looked back at Basil from the doorway.

‘What?’ Basil questioned.

‘You’re not going to kiss me goodbye before I go?’

It was a friendly jibe, and rationally Basil knew this, but that didn't stop him from pulling Jack down by his lapels - kissing him hard.

‘Damn.’ Jack murmured admirably under his breath, hands finding their way into Basil's hair.

Shocked by Jack's unanticipated reciprocation (and the strong emotions that came with it) Basil broke the kiss.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!

Come on, fucking think of something!

‘That….was a one time thing,’ Basil said after a moment - in an awkward attempt to deflect from the situation at hand. ‘Now, I’m just going to go and give these…to someone else who may need them.’

Basil then quickly picked all of the papers up and stood -- not particularly caring whether Jack was even listening to him -- before walking (as calmly as they possibly could) past Jack and out of the door.

Jack

Jack absentmindedly pressed a hand to his lips, as he watched Basil go.

Did I do something wrong?

Then, quietly, Sprig chuckled. Hearing this Jack closed his eyes in desperation.

Of course we had an onlooker.

(But, there’s nothing I can do about that now.)

‘He’s dropped all of those and is running for the lift, isn’t he?’ Jack sighed, not even bothering to look for Sprig (who was currently attached to the outside of Basil’s empty desk plant pot.)

‘Yes, he is.’ Sprig replied. ‘Go and get your bitch, Colonel.'

[ Basil's lab - 18:05 ]

Basil

'Hey,' Jack said gently, as he shut the door behind him. ‘Can we talk?’

…How on earth did he get down here so fast?

The base elevators can’t be that good, can they?

'What is there to talk about?' Basil snapped, as Jack strode over and sat down on their bed across from them. ‘I’m the one that screwed up, just go to your meeting and leave me alone!'

He's too close, I feel like I’m going to vibrate out of my skin.

'I can't, I postponed it.' Jack replied. 'It'll happen tomorrow now.'

'Is that supposed to make me feel better?' Basil retorted.

'No, and I didn't expect it to.' Jack admitted. 'But that's not the point! The point here is that I'm sorry, Basil.'

‘Well, you shouldn’t be!’ Basil said, voice quavering. 'I've ignored what you obviously feel for Sam! That line shouldn't have been crossed!'

‘Damn it, B!’ Jack groaned, exasperatedly raking a hand through his hair. ‘Don't you get it? You're not Carter - and I don't want you to be! My feelings for her don’t affect my feelings for you! Our kiss should have told you that!'

Oh.

'I’m an idiot.’ Basil muttered.

‘Is that supposed to be news to me?’ Jack teased.

‘Oh, do shut up.’ Basil said, before bridging the gap between them; so that they were standing between Jack's legs, hands resting against his hips.

Jack

Jack, to his surprise, found that he had indeed done as instructed. 

(There was no sarcastic remark on his tongue, for once.)

‘May I?’ Basil asked. ‘Kiss you, that is?’

‘Yes, please do.' Jack replied, voice uncharacteristically shaky.

Then, before Jack could blink, Basil had shifted their hands - lifting his head and cupping his face - subsequently initiating a second (and far more passionate kiss).

Closing his eyes Jack kissed them back fervently; wrapping his arms around Basil’s waist to hold them steady as he pulled them closer, before slowly reaching up and snaking a hand into their hair.

Oh, I never want to let them go.

Basil

Eventually, after what seemed like a mere blip in time to Basil, they pulled away from Jack slightly – moving so that their forehead rested against his.

Fuck, this man can kiss! 

(I feel like I'm on fire!)

'Are you okay?' Jack questioned, looking up at Basil.

'Yeah, I'm fine, just a bit tingly.' Basil replied. 'But that will pass.'

'Aw, I'm flattered I could make you feel that way.' Jack joked.

Basil opted to not dignify that with a response.

Then, suddenly, Sprig wolf whistled loudly - shattering the silence.

(He had apparently been watching from a spot on Basil’s bookcase, unnoticed, for some time.)

Startled by this noise Basil let go of Jack and fell backwards, landing on the carpet with a loud thud (and a muffled yelp.)

[ 18:07 ]

Jack

'Oh, fuck me!' Basil cursed angrily, sitting up and hitting the carpet with his fist.

‘Woah, hold your horses, cowboy!’ Jack laughed, as he leaned forward and offered a hand to help them. ‘At least let me buy you a drink first.'

‘Jack, you know that’s not what I meant.' Basil said, grabbing hold of Jack's hand – using him to slowly return to a standing position.

'Honey, are you sure about that?’ Sprig taunted, sliding across the floor so he was positioned next to Basil. 'I've been inside your mind, and, honestly, some of your thoughts made even me blush. Which, if you think about it, is quite a high bar.'

'Sprig, stop being an ass!' Jack yelled, interrupting him.

In response Sprig poked his tongue out at Jack, annoyed.

'Very mature.' Jack said, in a voice reminiscent of a tired father. 'What are you, twelve?’

‘I’m far older than that, but I doubt your tiny brain could comprehend my true age. It'd explode before you even got close.’ Sprig replied, snidely. 

'Oh, well done.' Jack goaded. 'Took you a long time to come up with that, did it?'

'Actually, now that I think about it, it is the one advantage your lover here has over you.' Sprig continued, ignoring Jack's comment. 'Although so far it doesn't seem to be doing Basil any good. They did fall for you, after all.'

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when he noticed the icy look in Basil's eyes.

'Huh. I didn't peg you as being the submissive type, Jack...' Sprig sneered. 'Basil, on the other hand, however...'

Basil

‘Sprig, if you don't shut up soon, I'll go and get the wood chipper!’ Basil threatened.

'Oh no, so frightening! However shall I go on?' Sprig responded, raising a tendril to where Basil assumed his chest should be, and gasping mockingly. 'Goodbye, cruel world!

Then he disappeared with a pop, showering Basil with leaves.

‘Well someone must have woken up on the wrong side of the flower bed this morning.’ Jack noted, after a beat.

'Oh, you didn't...' Basil groaned, shaking their head to remove the debris. ‘I think that may have been one of the cheesiest things I have ever heard you say.'

'It's all part of my charm, sweetheart.' Jack replied, grinning. 'I know you love me for it.'

Yes, Jack.

(Yes, I do.)

[magicxc]

What Will It Take

Pairings: Luke James x Black Reader

Word Count: 3235

Warnings: Fellatio, Cunnilingus, Reverse Cowgirl, Spanking, Hint of a Breeding Kink, Pain Kink if You Squint, Real Hard

BBJ Masterlist

“Warriors for the Dub,” I confidently yelled across the hall. 

Chuckling as I stride back into the office, coffee in hand, I’m mad excited for tonight's game. Right now it’s a toss up between the Warriors and the Cavaliers and my hating ass coworker is a diehard Lebron fan. I’m talking this man can do no wrong. And I’m all for Lebron don't get me wrong, I can respect the hustle, but that man cries way too much for my taste. Just get in there and play the fucking game without calling for fouls every quarter. 

The door slamming against the wall interrupts my thoughts and I look up to see just who has the motherfuckin audacity; my posture relaxing as soon as I eye Damon’s bitch ass stepping through the threshold.

“Ayo for real that boy Curry is done for,” he boomed. “So you might as well just run me my money right now.” 

“Just because your rent is due doesn't mean you get to walk around here harassing people; budget better bitch.” 

“Ain’t nobody short on money Luke it- matter of fact, lets double up on it.”

“You really wanna go double or nothing?” I questioned. 

“That’s what I just said, don’t bitch out on me now.”

“Damon ain’t nobody worried about a few dollars,” I countered. “That’s chump change.”

Damon is what I’d like to call a competitive wagerer. That man will quadruple up on a losing bet even if all he has to give for it is the pants around his ass. Just constantly tripling up on a stake in hopes that the next one guarantees him a pocketful of money. How he still walks around here with two fully functioning knee caps is beyond me. 

“Ain’t y’all niggas spose to be working?” comes a voice chiming in from the door. 

“Yes sir, I’m just finalizing some of these last minute reports before I hand them over to Luke for the Swiss fiscal account.”

“That’s real cute Damon, but I heard you motherfuckers all the way from the bathroom.”

“Well what you riding a nigga for then?” Damon groaned. 

“My bad boss,” I conceded. “But by the end of the day all the statements will have been completed.”

“If y’all two sons of bitches gone be gambling in my establishment, at least have the decency to do it quietly,” he barked. “And while we’re at it, Luke, I need you to stay behind tonight to get a head start on the Cayman Island accounts.”

“My man, any other night and I got you, but tonight is the finals and I already have everything all set up.” 

“Luke, if I don’t see at least some headway on those reports by tomorrow, don’t even bother coming in.”

“Sheesh, so much for a work environment that feels like family.” 

“Damon shut yo ass up and clock out while you at it,” he ordered, stomping out the room; Damon angrily puffing behind him.

“Fuuuck,” I muttered. 

Five days worth of planning down the damn drain. I’m talking surround sound installed and ready to go. Acoustic panel strips glued to the door of my mancave for the perfect noise cancellation, effectively soundproofing it. And wings from my favorite spot preordered and ready to deliver for the exact time I pulled into the driveway. Deadass, the only thing I had left to do was take a quick shower once I got inside. And with how long it takes me to get home once I got off, I would’ve been out the tub just in time for player introductions.

Now my boss wants me to sort through this pile of shit tonight? It’s gonna take me at least an hour to make even an ounce of progress trying to unscramble these makeshift ass policy reports. Truth be told, he’s only doing this cause he thought his underdog ass team was gonna come through and make their way to the finals. Well jokes on him cause the Celtics haven’t been relevant since Rondo was on that bitch. I mean he’s a cool boss when he’s ready, but I need to square up with him at least once outside of work hours. Nothing too hectic, just long enough to let out some frustrations. 

|~~

Tonight's game starts at 7:00, meanwhile I just barely wrapped up everything for the Swiss fiscal accounts; my impatience growing as I eye the current time of 6:30. Vigorously rubbing my temples, I let out a sigh of annoyance as it dawns on me that I may very well spend the first half of the game in this office - all my weeks worth of preparation wasted. 

Sending a quick text to my wife that I’ll be working overtime, I set up the game on my phone and give myself until the end of the first quarter before I call it a night; opting to stream it for some background noise. 

|~~

Halfway into the second quarter, I’m just shy three pages into the Cayman Island files, stopping every so often to watch Draymond run a foul. Honestly I couldn’t tell what’s going on with that paperwork, but I’ll be damned if I sit here and find out. The very least I can do is finish up these last two quarters in the comfort of my home. Boss said I had to make some headway not finish it, I thought to myself as I packed up to leave.  

“Boy aint no fucking way,” I screamed to no one in particular, hands slamming against the steering wheel; those orange striped cones tall and unwavering as they barricade the street, mocking me. 

Ten minutes into my drive home and my usual route, of all times, is blocked off. Now I gotta take the residential area which is chocked full of stop signs and speed limit ass followers. The third quarter is just beginning and the fleeting thought crosses my mind about finishing the game at the nearest bar; dismissing the idea soon after, my heart intent on salvaging whatever is left of this night.  

“Agghhhh”

Five minutes away from my house, the sportscaster announces the end of the third quarter with the Warriors at 88 and The Cavaliers at 73. They cut for a short commercial break and I floor it the rest of the way home, fingernails digging painfully into my palms. 

Bursting through the front door, I fling my jacket on the back of the couch. My tie follows shortly after, softly slithering onto the floor. Feet noisily slipping out of each shoe, it’s become a messy clothing trail left behind; a chaotic version of footprints left in the sand, and although my steps can be retraced, it’s far from picturesque. 

Mancave be damned I think, making a beeline for the front room which to my surprise is already playing tonight’s game. I plop into the seats, confusion etching onto my features as I get the strangest case of deja vu. 

“I swear I’ve seen this before,” I whisper. 

Sitting up further, ass dangling off the edge of the seat, this game is starting to look a little more familiar than I’d like. And it isn’t until I peep the infamous two player scuffle that I realise it's an old game, head hanging in irritation as I pinch the bridge of my nose to calm my nerves. 

A quiet, but unmistakable giggle sounds from behind me and I turn around to eye none other than the culprit herself, bursting into hysterics like shit is funny. 

I go and make my way to the basement to try the game down there, but I just about tore that place up looking for the remote. Stomping up the stairs, I try our bedroom as a last resort to see the actual game playing; only it's muted. Eyeing the remote, relief washes over me and I quickly snatch it off the dresser trying to press the buttons as I aim it at the tv every which way, to no avail. 

Muffled laughter in the background has me turning over the remote to see that the batteries are missing. Tongue poking against my cheek, I try to weigh my options of giving into her shenanigans or just watching the game on my phone like I did earlier tonight; not that I think she’ll let me. 

We’re currently in the fourth quarter with 10 minutes left on the clock and everyone still has all their timeouts so I can realistically catch another 25 minutes of game time. Again, I doubt I'll get a chance to watch any of that, at home that is. 

And I peep exactly what’s happening too, she ain't slick. Knowing how important this game is, she chooses to pull these childish ass stunts to get a rise outta me cause apparently I get “erotically aggressive” when I’m frustrated, or in this case, competitive. 

Albeit, I think it’s mostly stemming from boredom. Something about taking matters into her own hands cause she's been feeling overlooked lately. But I’ve promised her more quality time between us as soon as I wrapped up the Swiss fiscal accounts. That project has taken more time away from us than I’d like, but it was crucial that I made the deadline. Shit, the bonus coming my way has already been spent if I’m being honest. I even made plans to take a few days off from work in preparation for a surprise getaway to show her how sorry I really am. Then she goes and pulls this fuckery. This right here is why she can’t have nice things. 

“Y/N, please don’t do this, at least not tonight,” I warned. 

Stepping into the room, batteries in hand, she twirls them through her fingers taunting me with each swipe, pondering exactly what I’d do for the batteries in question. 

“Imma count to 3.”

“ONE!” she so boldly started for me. 

Head cocked to the side, I have to forcibly tuck my lips between my teeth to hide the impressed grin that threatens to show. Meanwhile her eyes are narrowed into slits just daring me to make the first move; and I’ll be damned if I don't. 

“Three,” I barked. 

Stalking towards her, I scoop Y/N up and over my shoulder to which she purposely tosses the batteries throughout the room. I land a handful of smacks to her ass, clenched fists beating on my back in return. Slamming her onto the bed, I crawl between those pretty, brown thighs and wrap my hand around her neck. 

“You wanted my attention so badly mamas, now show me why you should keep it.”

A dry, gagging sounds from the back of her throat, but I don’t have time for nonsense tonight. Releasing her neck I send a quick love tap to Y/N’s cheek, instructing her to tell me what’s next. 

Pushing me to the side, Y/N quickly switches positions as she straddles me, grinding her clothed pussy into my dick while she catches her breath. 

Swallowing a groan, I send a sharp smack to her thighs and demanded a speed up in pace, lowkey hoping to have a quickie so I can get back to the game. 

Scrambling, she reaches for her shirt and throws it over her head, my favorite laced bra flying not too far behind. My dick twitches as the sight before me, pathetically rubbing against the friction of my pants while she plays with her nipples until they harden underneath the touch. Moans tumble from those luscious lips as she begins to circle her hips over mine once more, rubbing her core deliberately into the growing tent of my pants. 

Raising up ever so slightly, Y/N’s underwear follows suit and she so boldly crawls over to my face, easing on down until her lower lips align with mine. Hands cradled around her plump ass cheeks, I pulled her closer and got to work, munching on the pussy like it was my last meal. 

Tongue swirling through her slippery folds, I slide it further toward the glistening center, flattening it as I apply some much needed pressure. Hips thrashing away, I clamp down on her thighs until she has nowhere to run, intent on letting her feel every ridge of my tongue as it slithers toward the throbbing of her hooded clit. 

We build a nice rhythm, the buckling of her hips a clear indication. Head thrown back, her hand tightly grips the headboard as the other sinks into my hair, roughly pulling on my coils while she whimpers into the quiet night. Body quivering above mine, I begin sucking on her clit without relent and it doesn’t take long until Y/N stiffens, a mouth full of her sweet essence the end result of a wave well rode. 

Shallow panting turns into quiet breathing and usually after an orgasm, she tends to doze off, but I'll be damned if she gets a good night's rest after tonight's mischief. Shuffling on the bed, my clothes land next to hers in the corner of the room, my dick now at full attention.

Sliding my hands up to her waist, I hurl her onto the mattress below. Back to the sheets and legs spread eagle, I instruct her to finish what she started. Deciding to crawl on top of me, I stopped her mid-climb emphasizing, “aht aht aht, turn around and give me sumn good to watch.” 

Tongue seductively gliding over her bottom lip, Y/N sends a knowing smirk my way as she readies herself to ride me reverse cowgirl. Hands wrapped around my dick, she gives it a few strokes, pussy teasingly hovering over where I need it most. A thunderous smack to her thighs gets the message going, her shrill shrieking turning me on a little more than I expected. Hips finally lowering onto my shaft, I let out a breathy moan, fingers sinking into her soft skin, all but ready to slam her all the way down. 

“Mhnmmm, stop playing and put that pussy on this dick mamas,” I groaned. “C’mon and soak it real good for me.”

Knees connected to the sheets, one hand cradles my thigh for support while the other guides just the tip along her sopping lips. Now moist with her slick, Y/N raises up entirely and continues to jerk me, head diving down south to swallow my nuts whole.

“Aghhh shit, where the fuck you learn th-”

Pressure on my sac and hands swiftly stroking my length has me turning pussy real quick, encouraging her to keep going, my earlier outburst quickly forgotten. It may not be the sensation I was going for, but it for damn feels good as hell. Fingers digging into her flesh, they envelop those thick thighs, opting instead to knead them soothingly, sensually - her warm skin almost as sizzling as my desire, our low grunts bouncing against the still walls.

“You missed me real bad huh? Show me just how much.”

Tongue sliding against my balls, I feel every ridged texture coupled with the strokes she refuses to slow down on, it makes for a mind blowing sensation. Eyes rolling back, I almost miss the way her pussy slowly drips on my belly. 

Removing my hand, I slide a thumb inside, sending slow, languid thrusts. After a few minutes, I inch my thumb closer to her clit, rubbing that mother fucker in steady motions of figure eights. Mouth hung open and hand movements sluggish, we stayed like that for a moment; slowly milking each other to the brink of pleasure.

Releasing my member Y/N sits up, my thumb falling to my side. Hands now resting on my thighs as she makes eye contact over her shoulder while slowly sliding down my shaft.

“This feel good baby?” she faux’s innocence. This woman is gonna be the end of me. 

“Mhmm, squeeze me how you know I like it.” 

That kegal shit she does makes my eyes cross over. The way her warm walls hug my dick in all its spongy goodness, mhnnmm fuck I could stay like this forever. 

Grabbing a handful of each ass cheek, I help guide her on a rhythm that makes us both feel good, one where she actually makes use of her ankles instead of scooting on my dick like she’s trying to push in a chair. It's a position where I know she won't last long but also one where she experiences the best orgasms. Apparently from this position my dick rubs along her clit in all the right places and I ain’t mad at a two for one special. 

Sitting forward, weight pressed on her forearms, Y/N garners better control and starts to bounce on me in earnest. 

“Unhh, just like that keep going,” I grunt.  

“Tell me you love me,” she screams. 

“I love you.”

Raising my hips to meet hers, I grab a hold of her waist and drive into that pussy full force, the headboard viciously knocking into the wall behind us.

“Say it again Luke!”

“I love you,” I croak. 

“Tell me what you want baby,” she coos. 

Coming up off her forearms, Y/N slowly sits up and gets into a squatting position, hands nestled on her kneecaps as she readies herself to drain me dry. 

Intensely rocking her hips, the steady sound of skin slapping against skin fades into the background as my heartbeat loudly pounds in my ears, toes tightly curled while my hips continue to meet hers thrust for thrust. 

“mamas *thrust* I’m so *thrust* sorry,” I growl. 

“Aghhh say it again.”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” is the tantrum that spills from my lips, shouting as I hit my peak. Fingers damn near embedded into her skin while I empty my load inside her fertile walls. 

Y/N comes shortly after, her juices splashing around us. Falling on top of me, her back to my chest, I wrap my arms around her as we lay there in our post orgasmic bliss, heavy breathing coming to a slow stop.

“Mamas, I am so sorry that you’ve felt the need to resort to this as a result of my neglect,” I apologized. 

“Luke, I just wanted you present is all, I feel like we were starting to drift and I got scared.” 

“No, no, no if ONLY you knew what I had in store for you; but I’ll do my best to at least check in when work seems never ending,” I assured her. 

Holding up her pinky, I lock mine with hers to which we share a kiss to our thumbs and then to each other. Promising a better act of communication between us, I wrap her in my arms and assault her face with slobbery kisses, encouraging her to never pull this shit again and to get a full night's rest as she’ll need her energy for the morning.  

The game is still playing mute in the background and from what I can see they just wrapped up, GSW blowing a perfectly good 15 point lead. 

“Well I’ll be damned. Damon really did win the bet, and double at that.”

A vibration from my phone has me already knowing who’s on the other line but I don’t have time for that man’s antics tonight. I can wait a few more hours before I have to sit up and listen to non stop gloating.

[dbgdbw]

243.Lanchaea’s Lambda (1)

란체아의 람다 (1)

“Hyung, that thing, it’s Sung Hyunjae?”

Yoohyunie, who was held in my arms, suddenly asked.

“Hm?”

“Seeing how he’s taking useless interest in hyung, it seems to be the case.”

…instead of by his face, was that how you’d ended up recognizing him.

“For starters, he’s not.”

But even as I was saying as much, it was difficult to disguise my discomfort. They were different, but also similar. Could this really just be chalked up to coincidence. Honestly, it was a bit much, wasn’t it. Even if you looked past the similarity in appearance, their Skills and weapons were completely identical as well. Their personalities seemed to differ a bit, at least, but it wasn’t as though they were dissimilar.

“‘Sung Hyunjae’ again, is it.”

Sigma, who had caught Yoohyunie’s words, murmured.

“It’s a person who resembles y-, no, someone that you happen to resemble, sir. My ‘Partner’, you see.”

Figuring that I should go ahead and complete the quest as well, while I was at it, I decided to press on.

“While this isn’t my personal opinion–so, completely objectively speaking–he’s quite good-looking and disgustingly accomplished, but at the moment, stuck just watching through a monitor while cooped up in a room as a hot-pink bunch of yarn.”

Why wasn’t the ‘Completed Quest’ notification showing up. Did I have to push it a bit further? Exactly how much was this thing expecting from me, anyway.

“It seems he’s taken up knitting as a hobby as of late, and the scarf did turn out well, at least. He appears to be good at making cocktails too. He’s good at cooking, won’t eat bread crusts, but will unexpectedly the eat shrimp tail ends, and according to Soyoung-ssi, he’s good at origami too. There’s a massive aquarium in his home. Though it got smashed open, it’s been re-filled with water since, I’ve been told. He’d asked before whether I wouldn’t like go fishing together as, apparently, there’s a good location to personally fish for new stock.”

“Fishing?”

“Yeah, d’you wanna come with? You haven’t gone fishing before, right?”

At this point in time, I hadn’t gone before, either. Before regressing, I’d done so on occasion inside of Dungeons. If you managed to catch the relatively knackless fish that lived inside of Dungeons in alive condition, depending on the variety, they could be sold at a fairly hefty markup for ornamental purposes. For some F-rank Dungeons, rather than monster hunting, it was the fishing that would rake in bigger profits.

After barely scrounging up a few more useless tidbits of personal information, the quest finally got marked as complete. That damn Sung Hyunjae, honestly.

“...in any case, there’s some asshole like that. As you can clearly see, the situation seems to have reversed–you should be going right along and turning tail, no, sir?”

Yoohyunie was brimming with mana, while Sigma would have burned through at least half of his own reserves. Even if he were to attempt anything, the outcome was already decided. To be honest, that he’d bothered to chase Yoohyunie all the way here in the first place was unexpected. I hadn’t thought him to be the type that would knowingly enter into a losing fight.

“I’ll concede that the situation is disadvantageous to myself.”

탁, with a light footstep, Sigma retreated. Having leapt to the top of the crumbling ruins of the wall, he looked down at us.

“Alpha–no, ‘Han Yoohyun’, was it. First… An apology, then.”

For some inexplicable reason, Sigma humbly bowed his head. Just when I was wondering what he was up to, since he was hardly the sort to behave that way.

“I’d assumed that C-rank was a renegade un-Awakened lacking an affiliation and had him Marked, you see.”

He just had to open his fat mouth and spew a bunch of useless shit. Apparently informed about how Marks worked, Yoohyunie’s eyes narrowed at the reply.

“Hyung?”

“Well, the procedure had started when–”

Without listening to the rest of my explanation, Yoohyunie pulled down my scarf and scanned the back of my neck. There was the faint sound of teeth grinding together.

“The marking procedure was interrupted before it was completed, though? …did it leave a trace?”

“...a little.”

It didn’t feel any different, so I hadn’t realized, but that goddamned bastard! This is my real body, you hear! I wanted to know what it looked like, but if it was my nape, it wasn’t like I could see it with my own eyes. Ah–the Teacher Skill. When I quickly used it on Yoohyunie, I could see a slight design imprinted on the back of my neck. It looked like the faint stamp of a seal, that had run out of ink during the process.

The nearly extinguished flames suddenly came roaring back alive, blazing up high. Quirking the corners of his lips, this time, that Sigma bastard took out the contract.

“And perhaps owing to your resurrection, it seems that the contract remains in place, still. So it’s now my turn to collect what I’m owed, C-rank.”

The bastard spoke, using the tip of his finger to underline a part of the contract in a long stroke as he continued.

“In the case that Alpha is granted his freedom, within twenty-four hours, the other party will be compensated with intelligence that he deems satisfactory recompense.’ Is what it says, no.”

“I’ll spill the info, so get your ass down here right now!”

“What would happen if the twenty four hours were to pass without my hearing the intelligence, I wonder.”

“...what?”

“‘Waiting’ is something I can do as well, C-rank.”

That’s, this son of a bitch! That Sigma would possibly refuse to receive his compensation, was something I hadn’t anticipated. I should’ve been a bit more judicious with my wording on those conditions!

“Even if you were to wait, do you think that I’ll simply tell you what it was after the contract defaults into being nullified! You’ll never hear what it was, for the rest of your life!”

“Then I should be able to acquire the C-rank and Alpha both. That’s not bad, either.”

…fucking hell, I should’ve left my dongsaeng out of the compensation talks. No, if I could get ahold of the SS-rank detox Item from the Point Store first, then that was that. Since it was single use, it shouldn’t be that expensive, right.

콰르릉!

Just then, the lower part of the rubble Sigma was standing atop of began to melt. As the heap of boulders collapsed, Sigma leapt further backwards with light footsteps. His gaze cold, Yoohyunie watched him with narrowed eyes.

“Feeling sore, I see. Even so–I’ll allow you at least a day to tarry in Achates City.”

Saying so, Sigma’s form disappeared altogether. Yoohyunie set himself down from my hold.

“Hyung should stay here and–, no, here might be too dangerous too.”

“And just who are you trying to go after! That’s just what that bastard wants. The further you get from the Mana Hole, the more disadvantaged you’ll be. That bastard came here with a reservoir tank full of his own faction’s mana in tow, along with a retinue of several S-rank Guards. Not to mention that, right now, you’re in a deeply fatigued state, too.”

He had been continually locked away. Even with SS-rank stats, his physical condition couldn’t be called ‘good’. Had he been an ordinary person, he would’ve already wasted away to the point that it would’ve been difficult for him to stand, as it was.

“We can just buy the detox Item from the Point Store and use that. So.”

“I really can’t go after him?”

- With Rinie here too, Hyung!

As one, both of them turned pleading looks on me. Ah, um, well.

“...well, then again. Since it seems like he wants to capture you alive, it shouldn’t be too dangerous, I suppose. Ah, that’s right, did you happen to see the message the Newcomer sent?”

Yoohyunie shook his head. So he hadn’t even had the time to look at the message, huh. The contents of the message Yoohyunie had received was identical to the one Sung Hyunjae had gotten.

“Then, does that mean I can come back to life the way hyung did a bit ago, even if I die?”

“Uh, that’s not…….”

After debating whether I should tell him for a moment, I decided to speak honestly. Since, so long as it could be helped, we’d decided not to hide anything from each other.

“I entered this world with my real body.”

“What? T-then hyung’s–!”

“In exchange, the number of lives I have is five. Since I’ve used one up, I have four left still, now.”

I told him about the disks too. And how, somehow or another, Sung Hyunjae seemed to have ended up inside of the System as well. Even as he frowned slightly, Yoohyunie nodded his head.

“...I’ll just stay by hyung’s side. Even if there’s four left, you never know what might happen. I can’t just leave hyung behind. And without Eunhae, going together would only end up being more dangerous.”

“No need to worry about that. Though, it does have a thirty minute time limit.”

I bought a MiniMini Cookie from the Point Shop and ate it. Soon after, my body shrunk to a tiny size. After his initial surprise, Yoohyunie carefully wrapped his hands around me to pick me up. Having scuttling down the length of Yoohyunie’s arm to approach, Rinie made circles around me.

- Hyung! Hyung! So cute! Like Rinie!

“At about this size, it should be easy to protect me, even without going out of your way. And your flame resistance should be conveyed perfectly well, too. And with my stats at C-rank, plus the S-rank equipment, it shouldn’t be like when I’m an F-rank, where even a glancing blow could be life-threatening.”

- Rinie wants to hold Hyung! Let Rinie hold you please!

Saying that he would do a very good job of protecting me, Rinie squeezed me in a tight hug with his forelegs. But then, if you’re doing that, you won’t be able to help Yoohyunie, you know. As it turned out, because there happened to be a shirt with a chest pocket in Yoohyunie’s–no, Alpha’s inventory, he changed into it and I went into the pocket. Unwilling to give up hope, Irin circled around me.

“Let’s quickly track and take him down!”

From the Point Shop, I bought ‘Hunting Hound(C)’(1). When I activated the single-use Item that would let me track something down within a 3km radius, after setting it on top of the contract with Sigma, soon enough, something that resembled a firefly popped out and, as though signaling for us to follow, flitted meaningfully in place. 텅, with the sound of feet kicking off pavement, Yoohyunie’s body soared into the air.

By scattering viridian willow leaves a short distance ahead and stepping on the leaves, he leapt forward in consecutive movements to climb to the top of a building shrouded in darkness. Nearly the very instant the tips of his feet touched down on the building, 훅–, his body launched forward once more. Several buildings passed by underfoot, in the span of seconds.

“My Point Shop seems to be different from hyung’s reward store.”

“Huh?”

“My reward store is only showing Skills and weapons.”

Yoohyunie, who had been skimming his status and quest windows as he raced on, spoke. Though there was a large selection available, there was nothing like a ‘Universal Key’, ‘MiniCookie’, or tracking Item available, he said. In fact, the Skills and weapons were priced far higher when compared with my reward shop, too.

“...did the Newcomer actually show me some thoughtfulness?”

Or, it might’ve been that Sung Hyunjae had tampered with it, too. In any case, I’d gotten some good profit margins as a result.

- 크르르르르

In the distance, the snarls of monsters could be heard. That Sigma bastard, had he headed towards the location of the SS-rank monsters. If he could rope in the Achates City Guards as well, then it would likely improve his odds. What a cop-out.

“Yoohyun-ah, don’t worry about mana.”

“But this world’s–”

“Hyung has a ton of mana potions. I can buy them from the Point Shop, too. So go all out on using your Skills.”

Hyung will generously pour all of the mana potions I’d so assiduously saved out for you. I’d like it if I could cast the Attack Skill 2x Share on you too, but regrettably, I’d used it on that damned guy already.

Another building passed by below. As he stopped on top of a desolate half-crumbling building, the grotesque figure of a monster came into full view.

A monster with scales tantamount to SS-grade armor covering its body. Not far away, what looked to be monsters resembling a gigantic serpent and bear were surrounded by Achates Guards as well. All three seemed to have sustained little to no damage. It seemed that, as Guards below S-rank, the most they could do was throw themselves at the problem in the hopes of buying some time.

And over on the far side, on a building located near the serpent, that Sigma bastard was standing. As though telling us to draw closer, he showed us a smile. That it resembled a certain nugu-ssi(2) only made my mood worsen further.

“Be careful, hyung.”

“Hold on a sec, Yoohyun-ah.”

Stopping Yoohyunie, who had been about to rush forward towards Sigma, I took out an Item. ‘Over Here(SS)’.

“Let’s start things off with a bang, first.”

Cleaning up the Achates and Solemnis Guards hanging around would make things go smoother later. I aimed the pistol that was approximately double my current body at the place where that Sigma bastard was. 반짝, the muzzle of the gun twinkled briefly. It wasn’t that anything had been fired from the gun. With that signal, having designated the location, a brief moment later.

구그긍–

Something appeared from above, in the sky above Sigma and the giant serpent monster. The round object, which had plummeted to the ground in a blink.

콰아아앙–!!

Exploded. Light, as blinding as the rays of the dawning sun, burst outwards, spiking as both a tremendous roar of sound, as well as firepower. Everything in the surroundings was wiped clear in an instant. A faint breeze and a sense of heat reached even where we were, despite the considerable distance.

An Item that would drop an SS-grade bomb at the indicated location, up to three uses.

- 샤아아!

- 쿠워어어!

The monsters howled raucously. The snake, its body mottled with burns from having been bombarded dead-on, writhed violently. Each time it did so, spurts of venom, as well as a miasmic aura, spilled into its surroundings. Even before the heat from the detonation had settled, Yoohyunie leapt into the air. It was an element that was incapable of harming even a hair on my dongsaeng’s head, to begin with.

“My poison resistance did drop in grade, but it’s still S-rank! We can just buy an antidote, too!”

As it so happened, the pocket was located right next to his heart. If the venom tried to permeate through, it should be filtered through my resistance first, and subsequently be purified. Since he had SS-rank stats, too, he should be able to hold up to the poison all the better; even with only S-rank poison resistance, an SS-rank serpent’s venom would still be manageable.

But not for Sigma.

Stepping on viridian willow leaves, Yoohyunie’s body breached Sigma’s proximity in a blink. 화르륵, dark blue flames surged. By assimilating the residual heat from the detonation, even with the application of a small amount of mana, they surged and raged wildly.

Neither did Sigma stay still. Apparently having replenished his mana in the meanwhile, golden currents of electricity enveloped him in a spectacular display. As his chain wove around him in a long slithering movement.

“Irin!”

As Yoohyunie’s command fell, an enormous crimson mass lurched forward from behind Sigma. Irin, having taken the form of an imugi, while cloaked in blue flames, stretched fangs and talons towards Sigma.

카가각, immediately after the chains moved to rebuffed the horned dragon’s attack–without letting the window of opportunity slip by, Yoohyunie lunged at Sigma’s back.

The blade held in Yoohyunie’s hand swung in an arc. Lightning and fire mixed together, devouring the other. Clothes tearing in a long line, Sigma extricated his body through a barely discernible lapse in guard between Irin and Yoohyunie. But that was where the serpent happened to be. An SS-rank monster that’d had its body partly melted away, brimming with poison.

- 시이익!

Flicking its crimson tongue, the serpent stretched its jaws wide open. Sigma, who had been caught up in the miasma, grimaced slightly; the other end of the chain that was blocking Irin shot out, and.

콰득!

Pierced through the serpent’s head. In a smooth movement, by treading on the chain, Sigma vaulted up to the top of the serpent’s head. As though he’d been anticipating Yoohyunie’s pursuit, by jerking on the chain, he impelled the serpent to spit its venom at him.

- 키익!

Mad with pain, the serpent sprayed a particularly viscous batch of poison. Before it could come in contact with Yoohyunie’s body, Irin opened his mouth, sending a billow of flames forth.

콰과과과, burning through the venom in a instant, the Breath of blue flames swallowed up the serpent’s head. Subject to flames that bore infernally high temperatures, the serpent perished without being able to make a sound. As the serpent’s head–burnt to an indistinguishable, charred state–toppled to the ground, a bundle of points blinked into existence.

“Yoohyun-ah, grab the Points!”

The Points I saw were of a far lower number than with the SS-rank monsters from before. A nod towards the acknowledgement of the hardships I’d gone to to pull off the bombings, then.

Sigma had already retreated further without even a single scrap of cloth catching fire, however. Tch, how agile. That guy must have the battle foresight too, after all. But even so, seemingly having been affected by the miasma, his coloring had turned slightly pale.

Apparently having used up a significant amount of his strength, Irin returned to the form of a crimson salamander and approached my side. Just when he was about to launch another attack on Sigma.

타다다다다–!

The sounds of a helicopter could be heard. Was it one of Solemnis’ helicopters? Wasn’t going so far as to mobilize even a helicopter cheating!

“Yoohyun-ah, be careful! There are some larger weapons that use up a lot of mana, that are capable of producing S-rank attacks or higher!”

Nodding his head, Yoohyunie used the hand not holding onto his sword to draw a sniper rifle out of his inventory. Thinking to use a sniper rifle to take on a military-use helicopter was a preposterous notion–but when it was an Item in the hands of an SS-rank Guard that was in question, that was a different story. The rifle was leveled at the helicopter, and.

덜컹.

The side of the hulking helicopter slid open. I was wondering whether a weapon would be pointed outside, but what revealed itself ended up being.

부와아앙–

A giant motorbike, roaring noisily. Three sets of bikes dropped out of the helicopter. The bike that was at the fore amongst them had a lance protruding in front. Crimson strands of hair streamed through the air under the moonlight.

“Ho, you bastards! Lanchaea’s Lambda has arrived!”

Upon touching down on the ground, along with a boisterous roar, the bike accelerated in an instant. Reaching an incredible speed through what was most certainly the work of a Skill, the bike collided with the bear-shaped monster. The moment the tip of the lance came into contact, the hide that had been as durable as steel plates crumpled alongside the spearpoint, shredding as though reduced to so much tissue paper.

And soon thereafter–with the sound of a sack of water bursting open, the bear’s body quite literally shattered into infinitesimal fragments.

끼이익, with a long screech of tires against pavement, the bike came to a stop; Lambda, who had eliminated the SS-rank monster in a flash, hefted the lance upright. Displaying a smile, she waved her hand in our direction.

“Hi there, young master!”

It hardly needed lengthy deliberation. It was Moon Hyuna.

-----

(1) 꼬리 무는 개 lit. ‘dog who bites [the] tail’ where tail→trace/trail→dog ‘on the hunt/chasing trail’

(2) 누구(nugu) = ‘who?’ → ‘a certain someone-ssi’

tumblr finally got around to un-shadowbanning the blog, so moving things back here )b

+(Q&A)

Q) i’m a big fan of the willow leaves Skill, and because i don’t think i recall seeing an instance of a physical attack that uses only the willow leaves: is it that, typically, its true form lacks substance, like a hologram, or is it that it does have a physical presence, but is unable to achieve significant force?

A) the usual form is similar to a hologram. expending a minimal amount of mana, it’s merely shaped into the ‘framework’ that resembles willow leaves. as a result, even when countless willow leaves are created, the amount of mana consumed is on the lower end. it’s typically used only to obscure sight, but as that mana is han yoohyun’s, han yoohyun is capable of traversing across them. this is achieved by reinforcing just the willow leaves being stepped on by han yoohyun with an increased amount of mana, the very instant he steps on them; exceptional mana control is required to sustain the flow, lest it be interrupted. it can be used in a variety of different ways, but as the willow leaves are numerous in count, it can be difficult to find an opportunity to use it in the first place^^ lifting another person or an object with them should be feasible as well, but it would require a far greater amount of mana and magical energy in return; and should a clash with the other’s magical energy occur, unable to provide continued support, they may end up being dropped as a consequence.

+(Q&A)

Q) you’d mentioned before that sung hyunjae would occasionally go fishing, and that song taewon, han yoojin, and kang soyoung had accompanied him prior; did those three enjoy fishing with sung hyunjae as well, though?? and why did sung hyunjae want to go fishing with these individuals in particular?

A) kang soyoung shuddered in revulsion. with her boss, she’d rather not do anything other than Dungeon raids^^ meanwhile, for song taewon, fishing is an activity well-suited to him. to be precise, what he enjoys is quietly casting the fishing line while hoping that none of the fish will bite. if the occasion ever arose where he could go on a casual fishing trip with han yoojin, he would probably take well to fishing too. he’d likely complain upon seeing sung hyunjae doing well, or run interference to entertain himself. when he fails to catch very many fish, he’ll probably joke at sung hyunjae to try zapping them with a bit of electricity. electrofishing is illegal, everyone^^ in kang soyoung’s case, she happened to get caught up in things as a casualty, while in han yoojin and song taewon’s case, it’s because sung hyunjae wished to share his hobby with them. with those two people, he wishes to be able to do an assortment of activities together.

+(Q&A)

Q) i was curious whether the reason sung hyunjae doesn’t eat bread crusts is because it’s a metaphor as it relates to sung hyunjae’s narrative, or if it’s simply a trait indicative of sung hyunjae’s pickiness!

A) typically, the trait goes hand-in-hand with the intended metaphor. it’s a longstanding habit of his ^^

※

+(Q&A)

Q) the small yoojinie that sung hyunjae took with him in the epilogue, how does his culinary preferences pan out? in contrast to the yoojinie who refused to acknowledge his preference for sweets, will he come to like sugary/sweet foods as well? or, does he end up taking after sung hyunjae and/or the elder’s food preferences? does he eat bread crusts? if he happens to show signs of 편식(picky eating), how would the elder and sung hyunjae respond??

A) he’s still in his early years yet, and possesses an ordinary preference for snacks ^^ considering his state as a child, there should be a high possibility that he will learn to like the kinds of foods that he becomes exposed to in his environment. it may be that he comes to like some foods that don’t even exist on earth. from the perspective of a young child, sung hyunjae would likely come off as an immensely cool and strong adult. when he sees that kind of grownup avoiding eating bread crusts, wouldn’t he end up thinking so you shouldn’t eat that part, huh. it might be that he ends up assuming that cutting off the bread crusts is a grown-up thing to do. assuming the young chaos doesn’t intervene, that is. both of them veer towards thinking if i don’t eat the things i don’t like, so what. as the young chaos had lived according to his whims as well, he’s the type to just leave things be so long as there’s no outstanding problems, and sung hyunjae would probably either locate or create various ingredients and foods with a similar enough nutritional value. but, of course, since there’s no substitute [for one’s diet], if it began to affect his health, then they would endeavor to address his picky eating.

[loverontheleft]

Good Vibrations (Revised)

Original Request: Okay but here’s a thought: laundry day. Just trying to get that washing done, next thing you know make out session on top of the washer or dryer. He knows those vibrations have got you feeling something…

Brendon Urie x Reader

Warnings: language, sexual content

Word count: 1.6k ➡️ 3.1k

-||-

“Brendon Boyd Urie, I am trying to keep this house nice for you and you are distracting me!” Your voice is playfully scolding, and you shriek with laughter, releasing the pile of bedsheets, as he drags you down to the couch.

“I’m bored,” he whines once you’re nestled against him as his little spoon. “Laundry is boring.” His hands are exploring your body as he kisses a path along your neck, and you fight back the sigh of pleasure.

“It certainly isn’t the most exciting part of my day, but we both enjoy clean sheets, and since someone,” you roll over to face him and let your hand linger between his legs, “has been extra horny since he got home from tour, we have managed to go through our entire linen closet. So, I’ve got to do laundry, and you’ve got to keep your dick in your pants for a few hours.”

He looks offended. “I pulled you down on this couch to have a good time, and I am feeling so attacked right now.” You roll your eyes, shifting to give him an amused look that tells him you see through his bluff. You love him, but you both know the truth. “Okay, fine,” Brendon concedes. “Technically nothing you’ve said is inaccurate, but still!”

“‘Still!’ nothing,” you say with a small laugh, cupping his face affectionately and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m so fucking happy that you’re finally home, and if doing a ton of laundry is the price I pay for my husband bringing me to multiple screaming orgasms several times a day, so be it. But it turns out the price must be paid, and I’m afraid it’s due today.”

He groans, burying his face in your neck and clinging to you desperately. You stroke his hair, murmuring, “let me up, my love; we can have lunch and watch a movie or something once I get these sheets in the machine.”

“Fine.” He pouts and releases your waist so you can stand.

“Stop pouting, Urie,” you tell him without looking back, crossing to the laundry room. You load and start the machine; when you come back, he’s sprawled on the couch, shirtless. You straddle him and stroke over his bare chest while giving him a knowing look. “You’ve lost clothes since I left. What are you up to?”

“Just getting comfy.” He gestures at his sweatpants innocently. “I was already pretty much set with what I was wearing, but I figured you’d want my shirt, so I took it off.”

You nod, standing to wriggle out of your shorts and pull your tank top off. “Doesn’t hurt that you’re now shirtless,” you tease, slipping his soft t-shirt over your head.

“It is a perk,” Brendon concedes with a small grin. “Damn, you look good in my clothes. I fucking love you in my clothes and not much else.” He pulls you against him once you lie down, holding you close. “Hope you don’t have plans for the rest of the afternoon, pretty girl.”

You sigh contentedly as his fingers start drawing circles on your stomach under his shirt. “Nothing, besides the laundry.”

He smiles against the back of your neck. “And when that’s done, I can take you to bed?”

You roll over to look at him, pointing your finger at him playfully. “No. No sir. Not on the fresh, clean sheets.” He nips at your finger, grinning when you whimper.

“So, what I’m hearing is that we can have sex, just not in our bed.”

You nod eagerly.

“Huh. I didn’t think you’d give in so easily,” he muses, and it’s your turn to look offended.

“Hey, I love you and I love having sex with you.”

Brendon raises an eyebrow teasingly, and you slap his chest lightly. “Don’t give me that look. You’re so fucking sexy, you’ve got the perfect cock, and you make me come like crazy. You know how badly I’ve missed you. You know how badly I want you all the time. I just don’t love the idea of getting sheets dirty the moment they’re out of the dryer.”

He laughs, kissing under your ear and nuzzling you longingly. “I don’t think it’s perfect, but I appreciate the praise of my dick all the same. And yes, you’d like to keep our sheets clean—okay. I’ll do my best to cooperate, but only because I love you endlessly. Distract me please. You said something about food and a movie?”

-||-

“Mmmm, you feel good.” Your fingers run across his stomach, smiling when he tenses at your touch. “So warm,” you murmur, “and so solid. Your skin is so velvety soft, but your body is so hard underneath; I love it.” Your thumb dips under the waistband of his sweatpants, stroking the strip of skin between his hip bones.

“Sweet girl, I don’t think you’re watching the movie,” Brendon comments in a strained voice, touching your wrist. You toss a casual look over your shoulder toward the tv.

“Would you prefer I watch the movie?” You retract your hand and bite your lip. “Because I can definitely take my hand out of your pants, roll over, and watch… whatever this is, if that’s what you want, B.”

He groans, wrapping his hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips. After a soft kiss to your palm, he guides your hand back down. You curl your fingers around his cock, smiling when you find him half-hard. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” You stroke gently, kissing him when his lips part with a soft grunt.

“Honey, that feels so fucking—your hand is so good, but I need—just a little, oh fuck—”

His hips jerk, his head tips back, and you nod, knowing what he needs. You stretch over him and rummage in the end table drawer. “There should be some,” he reassures you, and you make a small, triumphant noise, coming back with the tiny, travel-size bottle of lubricant stored there.

“Just a little,” he repeats, and you pour a dime-sized amount in your hand, tugging his sweatpants down with the other hand. “Yeah honey, that feels so damn good,” he murmurs, rocking into your newly slick grasp.

“You like that?” Your voice is soft, and he nods, biting his lip. “Love feeling your hard cock in my hand,” you whisper, tightening your fingers and speeding up. “God, just look at you,” you tell him, and both of you watch the tip of his flushed cock disappear and reappear as your hand moves over him urgently. “You’re so goddamn sexy. Love playing with your cock, stroking you and feeling you react. Love when you twitch in my hand and start leaking pre-cum, so I can go faster. This warming lube is so hot and slick; bet it’s so easy to imagine my pussy instead of my hand, imagine me riding this perfect cock until you fill me with your cum.” You’re both breathing heavily, and he cups the back of your head, bringing your mouth back to his.

“Wanna feel you, baby. Let me feel your hot, slick cunt.” Brendon slips his free hand down into your panties, groaning when he feels how wet you are. “Fuck,” he chokes out, running two fingers against you. You rock back against him, pressing down so his fingers slide into you. “That’s it, wrap your hand around my cock and jerk me off while you ride my fingers, pretty girl,” he mumbles into your mouth, finding a good rhythm with his fingers that has you trembling and whining.

You’re kissing him again, opening your mouth to his tongue, clutching him closer with your free hand, still stroking his cock desperately when the washer buzzes. “Sheets are done,” you tell him, pulling away and crawling off the couch. “Gotta put them in the dryer.”

“Don’t go,” Brendon groans, trying to keep you close, but you shake your head.

“Gotta get them in the dryer. Can’t leave them sitting there, wet.”

“You should be sitting on my cock, wet,” Brendon mumbles, and you laugh. “Yeah okay,” he admits, “that wasn’t my smoothest line. But I can’t be expected to come up with superb, flirtatious wordplay when I’ve got my sexy wife playing with my dick.”

“Shit, I’ll be right back,” you promise breathlessly. Walking a little unsteadily, you set off for the laundry room. You can feel the slickness on your inner thighs, and you’re using all your willpower to walk away from your almost naked, achingly hard husband on the couch. But if you don’t put the sheets in the dryer now, there’s no telling when you’ll do it; if you wait too long, you’ll need to rewash them.

You’ve finished moving the laundry when Brendon’s hands close over your hips; he spins you around and lifts you onto the dryer before he nudges it shut with his knee.

“Couldn’t wait for you to get back. Needed to get two fingers deep in your wet pussy and make you come.” Brendon’s voice is low and rough; you can hear how turned on he is. You whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. He grins and kisses you hard, reaching behind you to turn the dryer on. It starts with a rumble, and you whine happily as the vibrations jolt through you.

He steps closer between your legs, and you inch to the edge so you can press against him, your slick heat only separated from his stomach by the silk of your underwear. You lean down slightly to one side, groping at his erection through his pants, and he tugs them down. His cock springs loose, and you moan, closing your hand around him again.

Brendon tangles a hand in the back of your hair, crushing his mouth over yours, tongue teasing as the dryer shakes under you. His other hand slips down into your panties, thrusting and curving urgently. You grind against his fingers while you stroke his cock, and the dryer vibrating under you pushes you closer and closer to the edge of climax.

“Fuck, Brendon,” you sigh into his mouth, and he groans in response, moving to rub your clit in small, firm circles. Your hair has fallen, and your face is flushed; between the dryer and his fingers, you can feel your orgasm coming up fast.

He leaves your mouth and moves his lips up your neck to your ear. “Gonna come for me, pretty girl? Gonna come in these panties and let me clean you up with my tongue? I want to lick your perfect cunt clean before I give you my cock and make you come all over it. You want that too?”

You nod, whimpering. You’re so fucking close.

“Then do it, baby. Come for me. Be a good girl. Come on my fingers; soak ‘em for me.” Brendon presses up slightly, and you cry out; your hand tightens around his dick as your orgasm rips through you. He curls his fingers—before your first is over, your second is starting. You’re shaking, and you know you would be, even without the dryer working under you; your strokes over him are getting sloppy and erratic. “Tighter, baby,” he gasps, and you squeeze hard. “Yeah, love that.”

He’s bucking into your fist while his fingers rock in and out of you, and part of you feels bad that he’s doing all the work, but the other, bigger, part of you just feels warmth and sparks all over. His teeth have a lock on his lower lip and his eyes are fluttering shut, so you know he’s close. “You gonna come for me?” Your voice is desperate, and you squeeze even tighter.

Brendon nods; you slide off the dryer, which momentarily pushes his fingers deeper into you—only a bonus, as far as you’re concerned. They slip from you when you drop to your knees though, and you remove your hand to take all of his cock in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he gasps and tries to keep still, not wanting to hurt you with his short, desperate thrusts. You moan around his cock and look up at him desperately; he knows exactly what you mean. You always love blowing him, but sometimes you want it a little rougher. There’s something about his hands tangled in your hair and his cock pressing to the back of your throat that makes you feel a little dirty; you love the way he calls you his perfect cockslut and tells you to swallow for him. When you give him permission, like right now, he can thrust freely, really take your mouth, and you both love how he tugs your hair while holding you still for him.

Now, your jaw slackens, and you twist your tongue over his length as he rocks in and out of your mouth urgently; you’re savoring the slightly tangy taste of pre-cum that’s replaced the lubricant. You make a circle with your thumb and index finger to wrap around the base of his cock and squeeze his balls with the other hand; his hand comes down and tugs at your hair. “Holy hell, that feels amazing,” he murmurs, “but if you want my cum in you, I can’t come right now.”

You  rise, rubbing your body against him as you tug his sweatpants back up. He grabs your ass and pulls you closer. “Missed your fucking mouth, damn. Need to get my girl off again first though.”

“Thank god, I’m so wet,” you whimper, pressing your hips forward so you can grind against him. “And you’re so damn hard; I fucking love your thick cock. Shit, I want you. Can I— can we…Bren, I need you on me. In me. Both. Please.”

Brendon knows exactly what you need, and he lifts you back up on top of the dryer. You stretch out across it and the washing machine, relishing the way the rumbling sends tremors through your body. “Pretty sure this can hold us both,” Brendon mutters as he hoists himself up and settles over you. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist and bring him closer; you can feel his cock through his sweatpants, and you rub against him needily.

“God, you feel so good,” you moan, clinging to him and grinding with greater intensity. He’s got his face buried in the crook of your neck, and he’s working back against you with urgency.

“Want to make you come,” Brendon groans in your ear as he grips your hips and thrusts hard. “Feel like a teenager again, grinding and dry humping all over the house, getting you off with your clothes on, having my cock sucked. But I wanna make you come in these pretty panties just like this again, peel them off you, and eat you out ‘til you come on my face. Gonna lick your clit, finger your sweet pussy,” he promises. “Gonna eat this perfect cunt and then fuck you so good.”

Your back arches and you squeal as your orgasm rushes through your body. Brendon is breathing hard, and you wiggle against him, begging for his cock. “Need you. Need your cock. Eat my pussy later; cock now,” you insist, and he nods decisively.

“Gonna give it to you, sweet girl.”

You’re in a fog of lust and only vaguely aware of his hands tugging your underwear down, but you’re laser-focused when he kneels between your legs on top of the dryer and shoves his sweatpants off. His cock never fails to take your breath away; he’s the perfect size, and the thickness combined with a gentle upward curve means he fills you entirely and presses right where you need him most with every thrust. Right now, he’s gripping his length with one hand, stroking slowly, and you can see the beads of precum glistening at the tip.

You reach down and spread yourself with two fingers for his view, smiling in satisfaction when he groans and his cock twitches in his grasp. “Fuck your wife,” you say simply, gasping and clutching at his back when he fills you with one fluid thrust. “God, I missed you,” you moan in his ear, lifting your hips slightly to meet him at each thrust.

“Home now, baby,” he pants, biting gently along your shoulder and grabbing your waist. “Home now and missed you so badly; a week of fucking hasn’t even begun to make up for—fuck, squeeze around my dick like that, just like that,” Brendon urges. “You want me to come in you? You want my cum deep in your perfect pussy?”

“Need it,” you whine, scratching at his back and arms. “Fill me. Fuck me. Come in me. Oh shit, I’m—Bren, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

“Be my good girl; come on my cock,” he manages, and you shriek as your vision blurs into streaks of white and black static.

Your entire body is trembling, and all you can feel are the pulsing waves of hot tension and the fullness between your thighs that always drives you wild. “Now, for you,” Brendon grunts, and his desperate kiss consumes you while his cock throbs. He spills into you; it makes you gasp happily and press yourself to him. He’s breathing hard over you, hair matted to his forehead and face flushed, and you whimper as he pulls out. No matter how much he comes in you, you still feel empty whenever he withdraws.

“Fuck, I came a lot,” he mumbles, staring down between your thighs before crawling off the washing machine and scooping you into his arms. “Should get us into the shower.”

You nod tiredly; your muscles are quivering, your mind is sated and blissfully blank, and you feel like you could fall asleep. This crash is normal for you, and Brendon dips his head down to kiss you sweetly.

“Gonna lean you up against the shower wall and scrub you down. Massage you with that body oil you love and towel-dry you before carrying you to our bed.”

“Need those fucking sheets to dry first,” you murmur, yawning and burying your face in his neck.

“Can I tell you a secret, sweet girl? I ordered new sheets. They’re on the porch; they were delivered about an hour ago.”

“Thank god,” you groan, going limp in his arms. “I fucking love you. Go get them, and then take me to the shower. Once we’re clean, I need those new sheets on the bed, followed by you on me.”

[nawilla]

Fic Excerpt: Vader and Tarkin discuss the sabotage of the tractor beam

This is from a Star Wars Original Trilogy AU in which Obi-Wan Kenobi misses his date with Darth Vader on the Death Star.  (He was there, they just didn’t cross paths to have their final duel.  It’s a big ship).  Vader and Tarkin disagree as to how this sabotage probably came about.

* * * 

“He was here!”

Tarkin carefully did not react when Vader pounded his mechanical fists into the conference table. It shook slightly under the blow but did not dent or crack.

“Do you have any evidence besides what you supposedly felt in the Force?” he asked, his tone all patience and reason.

“It is not unexpected that a Jedi Knight could maneuver through a ship this size undetected by those blind to the Force.”

“Was anyone seen on the security feeds?” Tarkin asked again.

Vader turned to glare at him from behind his mask.

“Sir?”  The reporting trooper was no doubt sweating blaster bolts under his helmet.  “The security cameras and personnel reported three individuals.  Two human males and a Wookie.  They were first identified in the prisoner hold where they joined the prisoner.  They were then tracked to a trash compactor and separated before they returned to their ship.  No other persons were detected.”

Tarkin managed not to smirk, instead giving Vader a raised eyebrow.  “See?”

Vader turned his glare to the trooper.  “What is the status of the tractor beam?”

“Um.”  That poor soul’s voice was faint.  “The beam has been disabled.  Completely.”

Both Tarkin and Vader stared at the unfortunate messenger.  

“Completely?” Tarkin asked.

“Yes, Sir.  It was not only powered down on at the main controls, the field generators were disconnected from the main reactor.”

Tarkin blinked at the man impatiently.  “Well, have the engineers reconnect them.”

Vader laughed ruefully. It was a horrifying sound.

“Um, they say we can’t, Sir. I don’t understand why, something about the main reactor, Sir.”

“The main reactor is running at too high a power level for the force generators to be reset and reengaged while we are in hyperspace,” Vader explained.  “We would have to halt the hyperdrive and the subspace engines and allow the reactor to cool for eighteen hours before the beam could be made operational again.”

“Damn.”  It was clear Tarkin was using more vile curses in his own head.  “Fortunately our subordinate ships have tractor capabilities if we need them.”

“They do,” Vader agreed.

“Would an old man like Kenobi even have the technical skill to sabotage a tractor beam like that?” Tarkin asked.  “You might have an in-depth knowledge of engineering principles, but that was hardly universal among your ilk, assuming you were correct about the identity of our saboteur.”

If Tarkin didn’t know better, he would have Vader was offended by his assessment of the Sith’s mortal enemy.  

“Obi-Wan Kenobi commanded a Venator-class Star Destroyer throughout the Clone Wars.  Do you think he is unaware of the need to power down a reactor to reengage a tractor beam generator bank?”

Tarkin hadn’t.  “I see your point.”  He huffed a breath.  “The tactic is sound but it’s more consistent with Rebel sabotage strategies, not Jedi tactics.”  He turned back to the reporting trooper.  “There was no one else detected?”

“The cameras did note some droids, Sir.  We’re trying to account for them and determine if they are ours or not, Sir.”

Tarkin gave Vader a narrow-eyed stare.  “A rogue droid could have performed the sabotage undetected far more easily than a doddering old man, even if he was a Jedi once.”

“Do not underestimate the power of the Force.”  

“Do not let your obsessions cloud your reason,” Tarkin countered.  “Is he here now?”  

Vader was silent for a beat. “He evaded me.  For now.”

“There have been no confirmed sightings of Kenobi in more than a decade.  Even amongst spies that have infiltrated Rebel cells.  If he hasn’t already died, he no doubt will soon.”

“On that last point,” Vader conceded.  “We are in agreement.”

[pure-garbage]

Stargazers And Thieves! The Heart Of A Pirate

"Lana! This is Old Man Morry's boat!" Alan exclaimed when he saw the tiny vessel.

"Uh... so?"

'Good for Old man Morry,' she thought. 'I had no idea he got a boat.'

"Lana! We can't take Old Man Morry's boat!" Alan told her as if it should have been obvious.

"Can't take it? I already took it, what the hell are you talking about?" Lana scowled. "Get in and let's get out of here."

"No, Lana, we have to give it back!"

"Excuse me?!"

"Come on, let's go back to the harbor. We can take a different ship, from someone who it won't hurt so much."

"What?! Old Man Morry can barely walk, what's he doing with a boat anyway?" Lana demanded.

"Lana! Come on, don't you have any conscience at all?!" Alan demanded.

"Not really, no."

"Please, let's just go put it back! I know about ten other people who can replace a boat this size, easy, but Old Man Morry really needs the money from his fishing!" Alan protested doggedly. "Come on, Lana!"

"Old Man Morry is at least a hundred years old, that damn fart has no business fishing!" Lana grumbled. "What happened to his son, he's not taking care of him anymore?"

"No, Elk died four years ago. Guess it makes sense that you wouldn't know that."

"Ugh!"

Truth be told, Alan was starting to make Lana feel incredibly guilty.

'I didn't know I'd stolen something of such importance,' she thought glumly. She didn't have any special connection to Old Man Morry, but the cantankerous elder was well-liked in town and she had nothing against him either.

"I'm a pirate, Alan," she groaned. "We steal, we plunder. We hurt people. That's kind of... kind of our whole thing."

'Luffy would be so pissed at me right now,' she sighed inwardly. That wasn't the way he did things. As soon as she thought of her captain, Lana knew she had no real choice but to return the boat.

"Aw, come ooooon, Lana! Have a HEART!" Alan whined, unaware that she'd already caved.

"Fine, I'll put the damn boat back," she conceded. "But I'm taking a different boat and if you can't point me out one that works for your fragile morality, I'm pushing you into the bay and leaving you behind!"

"That's fine! That's great, thank you Lana!" Alan cried in relief. "I knew you weren't evil, not really! You're just really anxious to get back to your friends, I totally get it."

"I'll show you evil," Lana muttered under her breath.

They made their way back to the harbor, where they found Old Man Morry grumbling at a pair of marines.

"Crap! I knew this was a bad idea!" Lana cried with dismay.

"Just get down and hide, I'll handle this," Alan declared decisively.

"Are you nuts?! We need to get out of here before they notice me! Or did you forget I'm wanted?!"

"How could I forget, your bounty is over ninety million," Alan marveled. "But just trust me, ok? I have a plan!"

"I had a plan! It was a good plan! I almost carried it out perfectly before you started butting in!"

Despite her many misgivings, Lana laid down in the boat and let her brother drape a canvas over her still form. She could only listen with bated breath at the exchange that followed.

"Old Man Morry! Hey! I'm back!" Alan called.

"Little Avariya?" Old Man Morry called back, the words dulled by toothless gums. "What are you doing? You're the rascal that stole my darned boat?!"

"Stole? You lent it to me, don't you remember Morry?" Alan lied innocently.

"I... I did?"

"You did! I invited Aevis Lilac out for a romantic sunset boat ride, but... well, she stood me up so I just stayed out a while to drown my sorrows in the calm of the sea," Alan sighed dramatically. "Don't tell me you forgot! You helped me plan the whole thing!"

"I... oh, well that... that does sound like me," Old Man Morry mused, beginning to question himself.

"You're telling me the boat was never stolen at all?!" one of the marines grumbled.

"This old geezer is a few slugs short of a full round," the second tutted disapprovingly. "Hey kid, make sure the old man gets home okay, you got it?"

"Yes sir!" Alan replied peppily.

Lana's heart thundered in her chest, disbelief filling her as the sound of boots clicking on cobblestone faded off into the distance. Her brother's quick, clever ruse had worked.

'If he keeps up the good work, I might actually be glad to have brought him along... although if I would't have brought him along, I could have been miles out at sea by now.'

"You can come out now," Alan said.

Lana sat up, head swiveling while Old Man Morry startled with a string of curses.

"Slowly! Don't scare Old Man Morry!" Alan yelled with alarm.

"I thought you said you didn't have a girl on my boat, Avariya!" Morry exclaimed.

"It's complicated," Alan offered as he moored the vessel and Lana hopped out.

"Alright, Alan, I did what you wanted. Now point me to one I can take without causing too much harm."

"See that one?" Alan pointed to a ship across the bay.

"The schooner? It's a little big for what we need."

"It won't even be missed for a while. Just trust me."

"Fine, I guess."

They started to make their way to the other ship, Old Man Morry trailing behind them confusedly.

"Tell the old geezer to go home!" Lana grumbled.

"Morry, didn't you leave the kettle on at home?" Alan asked hopefully.

"I thought you were gonna walk me home!" Morry griped. "The marines told you as much, didn't they? Anyway, innit the least you can do for me since I lent you my boat? That was awfully nice of me... eh, why'd I do that again?"

"Alan, does Morry still live close to here?" Lana asked under her breath.

"Yeah, he hasn't moved," Alan replied.

"Just walk the old guy home, he's making too much noise. I'll wait for you here and we'll cast off as soon as you get back."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I thought you were in a hurry," Alan asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I am! So do it fast and stop holding me up or I'll leave without you!" Lana snapped.

"Ugh, you're even meaner than you were when we were kids!" Alan pouted. Even so, he turned and ushered Old Man Morry away from the harbor.

Lana settled down on a crate to wait for her brother to return, gazing up at the shining sliver of the crescent moon overhead.

'Wonder if any of the others can see the moon too,' she thought wistfully. All of her friends were stargazers, just like she was. Free spirits with an appreciation for any beauty that smiled down on them, especially the distant lights that shone like glinting diamonds framed against black velvet. The stars were treasures that belonged to everyone and no one all at once, and any pirate worth their salt adored them.

A jolt of intuitive alarm interrupted Lana's brief reverie.

'A drawn cutlass. A threat, not an attack.'

Reality caught up to her knowledge a second later, a marine stopping his patrol to confront her.

"Sergeant!" he called before Lana could so much as move. "The pirate! I found the pirate!"

Lana leapt to her feet, stomach falling sickeningly as her worst fears were realized.

Alan had delayed her departure too long.

______________________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ==>

== First Chapter ==

[frenchie-sottises]

ADDICT Animation Thoughts.

HEY, WANNA LEARN DRUGS?

This is me not having doing one of these review sort of things in a while. I’m kinda swallowed in the love for the newest animation for Hazbin Hotel, so I’mma do a review on it.

Yeah, I’m talking about the whole music video for the song “ADDICT”.  Yes, it’s a song I freaking LOVE and will probably sing it to the ceilings for the rest of the week.

I actually had no clue there was an animation being produced for this song. I thought it was a good fan song and it was just gonna be left like that, but no, the person, and team, decided to make a video for it.

Okay, first off, can I just gush over how much I freaking love this thumbnail?? It’s done by Arielle Somerville, and even though this doesn’t have Cherri included, who takes up the second verse and I’ll talk about that in the minute, she definitely gets the message across that this video, and song, is mostly about Angel himself. I especially love the reflection on the pole, showing Valentino, who showed his face in the comic that’s supposed to be a prequel to the actual pilot. I also love the expression on Angel’s face. To me, it spells utter hatred for Valentino, and why shouldn’t he?

I’m sure most people who like Hazbin Hotel have seen this vid, so I don’t think I need to put a spoiler warning. Instead of explaining what happens in the video, I will break down the actual song and what comes to mind when I hear the lyrics and see the imagery.

Til death do us part, but we're already past that phase. This is a brand new start, and I think I deserve some praise

I will forever love this shot.

for the way that I am. Despite having overdosed, and ending up comatose.

I don't give a damn, I've let my emotions go- Fuck being a sober hoe.

The first verse is fairly clear about what happened to him before and after he died. Angel states with the whole “Till death, do us part” that now that he’s in Hell, he’s starting anew. He then further states that he should “deserve some praise” for the way he is despite the fact he “overdosed” and “ending up comatose”. While it IS confirmed that Angel died via PCP overdose, PCP can cause anything from organ shutdown (lungs and kidneys specifically) to seizures and coma. It’s not exactly clear what specifically killed him, but if I had to guess: organ shutdown. Specifically respiratory arrest since the oxygen is crucial for sustaining the brain.

He then, like typical Angel Dust, sings about not giving a damn, which makes sense since cause, y’know, it’s Angel. He claims to have let his emotions go and “fuck being a sober hoe.” PCP is.. odd when it comes to the psychological effects of it. PCP can block NMDA receptors, which are responsible for pain sensations, memory function, learning, and yes, even emotions. However, it can also cause anything from euphoria and calmness to anxiety and violence depending on how much is taken and who is using it. I’m not an expert, so I don’t know what’s specifically causing such contradicting results. (If someone does know PCP back to front, I’m giving you the shot to put your two cents in.)

This is the mantra, this is my life you're playing with now til the end of the night. Surrounded by fire, the passion ignites, a hit of that heaven and hell, a helluva high!

We then hit the bridge. Angel walks towards the moth in the thumbnail named “Valentino”, and yes, I got plenty to say about him later, and tells him he’s playing with Angel’s life “til the end of the night.” I don’t exactly know what he means by this since Valentino is Angel’s boss and we all know it’s not some one-time thing. He then sings about being “surrounded by fire” as “the passion ignites” and “a hit of that heaven and hell.” Heaven and Hell, huh? I believe he, himself, knows of its effects. (I’m not calling him stupid/oblivious, but sometimes the effects of these sort of drugs tend to be underestimated when it comes to what they can actually do.)

I'm addicted to the madness. This hotel is my Atlantis. We're forever gonna have a fucking reason to sin. Let me leave my soul to burn and I'll be breathing it in. I'm addicted to the feeling. Getting higher than the ceiling. And we're never gonna want this fucking feeling to end. Just concede and give in to your inner demons again.

Angel, along with Cherri, sings about how he’s “addicted to the madness.” I mean, he did have a casual conversation while happily killing Sir Pentious’s minions. He then makes a reference to the lost city of Atlantis, a city that was said to be inhabited by people who were half-man/half-god and created a utopian civilization.. basically the hotel is an “oasis” of sorts to flee from his current situation. Of course, being in a place called Hell, he states how there will always be a reason to sin and that he’ll leave his soul to burn and breathe it in. I mean, it’s Hell, you can’t fault him for thinking that, and, if you know a thing or two about Hell, once you’re there, have fun getting out, so you might as well leave your soul to burn and breathe it in. Of course, Hell is a lot uglier than this, but we’re talking fictional characters here, so there’s gonna be some rule bending.

He then repeats the first line of the chorus, but it’s slightly altered. He’s “addicted to the feeling” and “getting higher than the ceiling”, which is probably referring to the drugs again cause, well, you know. Of course, like how drug abusers become drug abusers, he doesn’t want this “feeling to end”, so he takes more angel dust to keep this feeling going. He then says to “concede and give in to your inner demons again.” Concede means to “admit after resisting or denying”, so Angel, at some point, was resisting, or denying, the situation he was in, but after either fighting it/denying it for so long, before or after death, he accepted that he’s fucked up and gave in to his inner demons.

I also love this shot.

After a few seconds of awesome music, Cherri gets her time to shine.

Yeah you fell in love, but you fell deeper in this pit. While death rains from above, so count your blessings cause this is it.

You're not letting it go, so what if I misbehave? It's what everybody craves.

You already know, so come if you're feeling brave, and fancy yourself a mate.

Cherri seems to have suffered an abusive relationship before as she seems to use past tense for whoever she’s referring to. "Yeah, you fell in love, but you fell deeper in this pit.” Whatever it was, it’s not something that can be made up for. She then says “While death rains from above, so count your blessings cause this is it.” I don’t exactly know what she means by this. Technically, they’re both dead and in Hell, so I don’t think whoever this man is has had his soul destroyed.. mainly because of what she says later. However, as death does what death does best, she’s telling him to count his blessings as this is it. I don’t know what she means as we don’t actually know that much about Cherri to begin with, so it’s more of a hit or miss kind of game in this playing field. She doesn’t seem to have any grudges against him, or at least doesn’t act like she does. I know somewhere down the line that our “protagonists” will have to face their problems, but I’m not sure what Cherri has in store for a man she seemingly got over.

However, it may be over for her, but she states that it isn’t for him by telling him that he’s “not letting it go.” She continues by asking “so what if I misbehave?” and then following that up with “It’s what everybody craves.” She makes it seem like he couldn’t handle her overly energetic attitude. It may also suggest that Cherri, along with her use of bombs and how much she seems to love blowing up shit, may be emotionally unstable. While yes, she may be kind and friendly to Angel, but he’s just a friend, I don’t think he’s anything more.

It doesn’t stop there though, whatever it is, she tells him he already knows, so come if he’s feeling brave and fancy himself a mate. Mate is often referring to a lover, but could also mean friend or someone for a one-night stand. Again, since we don’t know much about her, these lines could mean anything.

You want it? I got it! See what you like? We could have it all by the end of the night! Your money and power.. my sinful delight! A hit of that heaven and hell, a helluva high!

The bridge doesn’t do much in terms of explaining what’s happened to Cherri. While yes, it’s definitely explaining something, we don’t know what that something is. We can only guess at the moment.

Cherri tells whoever this man is that if he wants it, she’s got it. She then teases him with “See what you like? We could have it all by the end of the night!” The whole “end of the night” has now been said on both sides. It could mean about the similar situations between them. Heck, it might be why they’re friends to begin with. Nothing brings people together more than having similar experiences.

Then, and I don’t know if this is me, Cherri’s voice seems to tone down slightly when saying, “Your money and power” before kicking it back up with her smiling and saying, “my sinful delight!” The animation may support this as everything tones down, except the music, as if she’s reminiscing. She then follows it up with the line that leads into the chorus. As far as I know, she isn’t taking drugs, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be addicted to certain habits. *cough, cough* Blowing shit up. *cough, cough*

We then hit the chorus again. The chorus before introduced Cherri into the video, but now it’s being sung by both on the same stage and in the same building: the same one Cherri decides to blow up as they both sing about their respective situations. There isn’t much to this other than the fact that it feels more of a wrap up on explaining their current states.

Of course, those who have listened to the VIP version knows there was an extra verse sung by Angel, which was included at the end of the video.

I'm addicted to the sorrow when the buzz ends by tomorrow. There's another rush of poison flowing into my veins, giving me a dose of pleasure that resides by the pain.

I'm addicted, I'm dependent. Looking awesome, feeling helpless. And I know I'm raising Cain by every highway in hell. Maybe things won't be so terrible inside this hotel.

I.. don’t know where to begin with this. I had to go back several times because there’s just so much detail in every scene. Everything from seeing Travis getting kicked in the face to the cigarette that Angel threw in the ash tray looking like a heart.

I think I’ll start with what I think might be going on.

Angel, more than likely, is still in an abusive relationship with Valentino, who I will ramble about in a few. I’ve seen a few who’ve said that he isn’t, but I don’t think he managed to break it just like that. He is the one who told the audience to give in to their inner demons after all.

As far as Cherri goes? She’s become an addict to her own habit of blowing stuff up for fun. While yes, she’s seen blowing stuff up that is about/for Valentino, with a habit that’s become an addiction, I don’t think it’s gonna be very specific.

Of course, I could be very wrong about Cherri. She is seen blowing up a sign that literally says “ADDICT.”

So maybe she has broken an addiction of hers and is stronger than I give her credit for. Maybe that’s also why she’s coming to the hotel, cause she also said the hotel is her Atlantis, so it’s probably a hint that she’s gonna be added later.

Speaking of Cherri...

I love her solely for this.

While they aren’t exactly ideal people, they are, almost, ideal friends. Whenever one struggles, the other comes to help. Angel helped Cherri fight off Pentious while Cherri is here comforting Angel as he goes through his abusive relationship with Valentino. (She also helps with, again, blowing up anything that belongs/is for Valentino. Ridding imagery of an abuser will bring some ease to the victim’s life.) I say “almost” as they don’t go about it in the tamest of ways.. though I understand why people would come to defend what Cherri did. If nothing stops them from fighting and taking land, then nothing would stop Cherri blowing up a billboard or two, especially if it’s Valentino.

I think it’s time I’ve rambled about Valentino and the relationship he and Angel have, SO HUGE WARNING, this is gonna mention sexual assault/rape.

Valentino... I know I’m right when I say that just about everyone in the Hazbin Hotel fandom absolutely hates this fucker.

I can’t tell you how many people have made jokes about it already. Who wouldn’t hate him? I can tell you right here, right now, that moths, because he’s a moth, are my favorite insects. They’re fluffy, amazing to look at, and can make for some nice character designs. However, I have not once found myself being fond of Valentino. He has a great design, but that’s about it. He may not be real, but I’d strangle him too for not respecting Angel’s boundaries.

Like

who

the fuck

aRE YOU

TO DO THIS??

My god, it doesn’t even stop here. This was pretty tame. I have a feeling not many know what was actually shown in the mirror when Angel was in his room.

Yeah, I don’t need to tell ya. I mean, I hope that’s not what’s happening, but Valentino IS one of many of the overlords of Hell, so who knows how twisted he is. It looks like he’s just holding him in place and just glaring at him through the mirror as he probably monologues about some bull about Angel being his and whatnot, but this is Hell and tame can just go out the window.. that and Valentino is literally fucking drooling.

As a final note, I’m pretty hyped for whatever Vivzie and her crew have in store for this series. I’ve seen the pilot, I’ve read the comic, and now I’ve seen the music video, all have been great.

I can’t really guess on where Vivzie’s gonna go with this whole story. I’ve always learned that Hell is an inescapable place, so I’d expect that Hazbin Hotel will be about Charlie hoping to rehabilitate people to go to Heaven only to find out that there’s no way out. Maybe it’ll be about how Hell doesn’t have to be some horrible place for nothing but pain, but a place to finally try and fix your problems so they don’t control you in the afterlife.

However, Hell has one issue: the overpopulation and extermination. It’s why Charlie opened up the hotel to begin with, so maybe the plot is far more clear cut. It is a fictional world. Technically the Hell most people think of is nothing really like this. It’s just an eternal fire pit where you’ll suffer physical pain over and over. However, Vivzie’s take on it is far more abstract. It seems Hell is where you’re put into situations you wouldn’t want to be in. Angel seems to want love and have fun, but is instead stuck with someone abusive and what he finds fun has been turned into work, both of which he hates.

In the end, I’m really loving Hazbin Hotel’s story as a whole. I love the fact Angel got some more depth to him. I’m looking forward to what’s in store for Cherri and the others.

P.S.: You wanna know the irony to this? I love moths, but most spiders I hate. However, I’m here hating Valentino, a moth, while having a fondness for Angel, a spider.

I’ve never had something like this happen to me before and it’s one of many reason why I love Hazbin Hotel.

[huihuiheart]

Spiked - Minho

Part of @clandestine-lixie ‘s Smutmas Collab and a great excuse to get some more Minho on my page! 

Summary: It’s pretty much tradition at this point that Changbin spikes the eggnog at the annual Christmas party. What happens though when secrets slip through drunk lips and aren’t forgotten the next morning? At least not forgotten by the very person you confessed to. 

Pairing: Minho x F! Reader

Warnings: Drinking (not drunk when having sex), drunken confessions?, cursing, some angst in the beginning, smut, lovemaking, unprotected sex (stay safe kids), oral (f! receiving), lots of petnames, moments where Minho is kinda smug, lots of praise, it’s sugary sweet, mild sir kink for a moment, fingering, some playful teasing.

I sincerely apologize but I haven’t had time to edit this yet, so...please excuse any errors and stuff I’ll be getting to those when I have some time. I wrote over half of this today with a migraine so we’re working on fumes here. Also if something seems off I apologize, I’ve never celebrated the holidays before so I honestly don’t know what Christmas is like....sorry.

Word Count: 4,992

“Awe don’t tell me you’re already finished taking bets? I haven’t even got mine in on how long before Changbin tries to get us all drunk.” You tease the rambunctious group in the living room as you remove your shoes by the door. Christopher joining you a moment later to help you with your coat, hanging it up for you as he often did. 

“Hey, don’t look so glum. Felix was just getting to the interesting wagers now anyways. Bets of any kind are in Minho’s care this evening. Gifts for tomorrow morning under the tree as always.”  Chris caught you up with where the ever excitable boys had already impatiently gotten up to, before stepping away with your coat so you could join the others.

“So what did I just miss then? You know the topic that had you all in a giggle fit?” You raise a brow as you claim a spot in their circle, between Minho and Hyunjin.

“Oh we were just discussing the last bet. Not that you’d be able to participate anyways seeing how it was about you.” Jisung smirks wickedly until you match his gaze with your own that was just as devious, making him fold in an instant, or so you think, “Just betting on whether we thought you’d stay the night or not this year.”

“That’s not interesting though, I stay practically every year cause I’m too drunk to go home alone and none of you will take me.” You chuckle shaking you head, “ A better bet would be who will get drunk the fastest, my money’s on Hyunjin.” 

Minho took your bet money counting it out before the other boys made their wagers too, writing them all down as more and more bets danced through your group. Both those typical for the Christmas party and those unique to this year for whatever reason. Debates starting up over a few of them as they always did.

“No I’m telling you Y/N will be the first one to admit it. She always gets loose lipped when she drinks.” Jisung teases despite the validity of his statement, something you’ve proven true to them at more than just the previous Christmas parties. 

“Still who she likes is the secret she guards more than anything else, she’d have to be so shitfaced for that to come out it would be ridiculous!” Changbin counters, “ My money is on Felix, he was practically giving it away unprompted last year. It wouldn’t be too hard to get it out of him if we really tried.” 

“Maybe that’s just cause Y/N doesn’t trust some of you to keep your mouths shut.” Christopher shrugs as he takes a seat, though all eyes are on him not because of the motion, but because of his words. Giving away that you had already confessed your crush to at least one person in the room. 

“Wait. So you told him, but you didn’t tell me? What do we even gossip for? Let I’m lowkey offended right now.” Hyunjin whines used to being your partner in crime when it came to exchanging secrets about your group, even the things you’d never tell anyone else. Trusting the other to lock it down tighter than even their own secrets, even if you exploited that information at times. Like when Hyunjin conveniently ended up paired with his crush for every game of the spring break party.

“In my defense I was distraught and looking for you when it slipped. Chris was just the only one around, so he’s the one who got that information.” You counter knowing there wasn’t any taking it back at this point anyways, Hyunjin barely accepting your answer with a grumble. You were somewhat glad that it was the case though, he’d surely exploit the information tonight if he had it. In this case you should be safe, or so you thought before you noticed the subtle smirk on Christopher’s face before he glanced between you and the very crush you’d revealed to him....Minho.

“Hey, the boys sent me to see if you needed any help.” Minho steps into the kitchen watching as you moved to pull something out of the oven. Most of the food had already been prepped before you arrived so you offered to be the one to actually cook it. This being the fourth time in an hour and a half that Minho had been sent to check on you, each time he showed up besides you though he announced himself with those same words....the boys sent me. Them digging a little deeper into your heart whenever you’d hear them again. It implying that that he never actually chose to come to you of his own will, only coming to you since the boys told him to.

“I’m fine Minho. You can go back to the others.” Your words were sharper than you intended and it nearly made you wince, even if he didn’t return your feelings he was still your friend and you shouldn’t be so harsh to him. Sometimes your feelings managed to rear their ugly head before you could stop them though, something you’d feel regret for later

“Rose....your thorns are showing again.” Minho’s gentle voice says the familiar phrase as he moves to stand at your side. His nickname for you with a subtle announcement of the fact that your emotions were slipping out quicker than you often registered, something he always managed to stay calm through no matter how snappy you sometimes got, “I don’t know what riled you up, and I don’t have to. You should go take a minute to calm down though. I’ll watch the food.”

The way he spoke to you was enough to calm you down enough to regain your composure, but not wanting to be so close to him and unintentionally get worked up again you conceded. Slipping outside into the frigid air for a few moments to collect yourself before finding the others in the living room again, sitting besides Christopher now.

“The eggnog spiked yet?” You question with a soft sigh as you lean against his shoulder, causing him to chuckle and nod, “Good, cause I’m going to need a drink to make it through the night.”

“You drunk yet Y/N?” Changbin teases as he pours you another glass. Internally cursing him out, he knew damn well he put something stronger in the eggnog this year without any warning. Knowing that you and Felix at least would try to keep up with everyone else despite being two of the light weights of the group. The others in that category smart enough to stop before they could make a fool out of themselves, even accidentally.

“Not drunk enough to lose to Felix or spill any secrets yet, if that’s what you’re asking.” You call him out, brow quirking as if to challenge him to tease you again. The alcohol buzzing through your system making you more confident in challenging them, even if it slowed your wit slightly. 

“Nah just wondering if you’re drunk enough to at least confess you’re spending the night? Well officially anyways. We thought of a way to determine who you’re going to stay with tonight.” Changbin brings his own glass to his lips, hiding his smirk knowing that Christopher had come to him and Hyunjin with a plan to rig it so that you’d end up with Minho. 

“Fine, I’ll confess to that.” You chuckle not catching onto their schemes, “So how are we figuring it out then? What’s your big, genius plan?” 

The sarcastic way you’re carrying yourself makes Hyunjin snicker, leaning towards Christopher, “Oh if only she knew...” He shakes his head slightly before shaping up, to hide any suspicious acts from you, “Simple, you’re just drawing the name out of a hat. You know the deal though, you only get to pick once and that’s who you’re stuck with.”

“Yeah, I know the deal.” You sit up further waiting for them to bring the hat over, the liquid courage running through you making you feel really good about your odds. It was only a 1 in 8 chance that you’d end up picking Minho, you were most likely safe from your crush. Well the possibility of embarrassing yourself while alone with him anyways. Or so you thought until you managed to pull his name out of the hat.

“Well.....I guess I’m rooming with Minho tonight....”

"Alright I think that's enough for one night." Minho takes the glass from you before you can get it refilled yet again. You'd lost count three drinks ago, hoping you'd get passed out drunk instead of having to face him. Luck wasn't on your side this evening though as Minho still had his wits about him and he refused to let you do something dangerous to your health.

"But Minho, if I'm not drinking what am I going to do?" Your whine is only added to by the small subconscious pout adorning your drunk face.

"We've both had enough and are going to bed now. It's 4 fucking 37 in the morning and you know someone's gonna be waking is up too goddamn early hangover or not. So if you wanna drink something it'll be water on the way to bed." Minho insists moving to help your inebriated form up from your seat on the floor and towards his upstairs bedroom.

"You can use the bathroom, I put some clothes in their for you so you can sleep comfortably." Minho sits on th edge of his bed, pulling out his phone to scroll through seeming almost entirely disinterested as you wobble off to the bathroom. Not getting far though before you have to pull the door open with a blush, your shirt wedged half on with only one arm successfully out.

"M-Minho I got stuck, c-can you help me?" Your words held no room for any hidden implications, especially not when panicked tears started to well in your eyes.

"Hey, it'll be okay. I'm gonna help you and you'll be just fine." Minho coos trying to reassure you, not knowing your panic was partly due to having to face him like this. His warm hands gently in the way they helped untangle you from the shirt you'd somehow managed to get trapped in.

"There you go, all better. Now go get those warm clothes on and get in bed before the cold settles in too much." He insists gently wiping away the last of your tears before you returned to the bathroom.

Silence filled the space when you returned, saying nothing as you switched places with Minho. Sliding into the bed while he was in the bathroom. It wasn't like you'd never slept there before, staying with the boys frequently meant that you'd slept in all their beds at some point but never since your feelings for Minho had developed so much had you stayed in his. Never after you'd felt like you'd embarrassed yourself beyond repair in one evening either. Not realizing you were sniffling with a fresh batch of tears until Minho returned.

"Hey what's wrong rose? You've been upset all day. Please talk to me, we don't like when you're upset." Minho's brow furrows as he uses the paw of his sweater to gently wipe away the tears again.

"I-It's just so hard Minho. I don't know if I keep doing this." You feel exhausted from the alcohol, the excitement throughout the evening, and now an emotional breakdown too and yet you needed to get this off your chest or even that might not be enough to let you get rest tonight.

"What is? What's hard? What can't you do?" Minho asks feeling his heart bleed at your distress even if he was able to stay as calm as he was.

"L-Loving you...."

You had passed out nearly the moment those words had left your lips, but Minho couldn’t, not after your confession. It had been the last thing he’d seen coming after trying not to look desperate to you all day. Yet you’d confessed to him of all people and it weighed too heavily on his mind for the next two hours to even consider getting any sleep. Only getting maybe two hours in before an excited Jeongin bound in to try and wake you both up so everyone could come downstairs for Christmas. Though Minho ensured he never got to you before he shoved him out with hushing sound. Slipping down behind him to grab some water, coffee, and pain meds for when you’d wake up. Telling the boys you’d had a rough night, probably drank too much, and should be left alone to sleep as long as you needed. Not expecting you to already be shifting awake when he returned to the room. 

“Hey, you can sleep more if you want. It’s alright.” Minho gently brushes the hair out of your face as your eyes slowly blink open, leaning into the warmth of his touch without realizing, “I brought you meds and coffee if you’re felling hungover.”

You accept his help to sit up and take the meds, willing your fuzzy mind to clear enough to recall what happened the night before, “Minho...d-did I do anything last night? I-I can’t remember.”

Minho froze debating how he should answer that, he wanted to be honest with you, but after seeing how upset you were the night before he didn’t want to embarrass you at all, “W-Well, umm....”

“I-I said something didn’t I?” You could read his face for once, the calm demeanor gone and it telling you something had happened. The way his eyes widened at your question was enough to confirm what you thought as panic bubbled up and made your throat feel tight, “W-Whatever I said I didn’t-”

Minho cut you off by pressing his lips to yours quickly, feeling his own panic, “P-Please don’t say that you didn’t mean it. I think I would die if I lost the hope that you actually loved me back.”

The panic stopped almost instantly, feeling it dissipate as you processed his words, “L-Love you back?....Y-You mean you love me too? B-But you were acting like I was such a bother yesterday.”

Minho sits on the bed, pulling you into his arms before you could cry again, “I didn’t mean for it to come off that way. I-I just didn’t want to look desperate when I couldn’t think of a reason for you to love me too.” 

“You’re an idiot, I was literally like so obvious.” You whine softly and he chuckles though his focus seems to shift as his gaze falls to your lips, “You can kiss me again you know....a-after all we both just confessed so it would make sense to...”

Minho’s eyes flick back up to yours as a smirk forms on his face, but he makes no smart comment as he gives in to what both of you are wanting. Leaning in to kiss you again, less panicked this time as his lips softly meld with yours. Though the both of you were pouring too much emotion into it for it to become anything less than desperate. Now that you had each other you needed that more than air itself, it remaining sweet despite the way you both chased after each other as if afraid this would all disappear if you separated for any real stretch of time.  You feel the faintest trail as Minho’s hands move from holding you against his chest to cradling your head as he lays you back onto the bed. 

“If you want to take things slower then just say so. I-I just don’t want to let you go.” Minho’s voice comes out so light you wonder how you hear it over the beating of your own heart, especially with how it races when his lips press a fleeting trail down your jaw between his words. 

“Y-You don’t ever have to slow down Minho, I’ve wanted this.....wanted you for too long to do that now.” You insist with a low moan as his lips press a little firmer against a sweet spot on your neck.

Minho hums against your skin too caught up in you to care about words when he could show you how he felt better anyways. His hands gripping at your sides, thumbs rubbing soft circles as if he’s afraid he’ll break you by being too firm. So you decide to make a larger move, reaching to grip the hem of his sweater and pull it off him, letting your hands and eyes roam his newly exposed skin. The feel of his warm skin beneath your fingertips heating you up inside, the flame of desire flaring up faster than you would have thought possible if the person before you had been anyone other than Minho. Minho’s hands gripping yours before looking up at you for permission, hesitating even as you nod.

“You sure you won’t be too cold?” Minho’s fingers peak under the hem to rub gently at your skin beneath it.

“Well if I am then I guess you’ll just have to warm me up.” Your words seem to light the same fire in Minho as he doesn’t hesitate a second longer to his sweater off you. Hands running over your stomach to squeeze your breasts through the bra, leaning down to kiss you again.

“Guess I will.” Minho speaks against your lips, tone deepening as he lowers again moving to rid you of your bra as his lips trail towards your chest. You nipples pebbling slightly from the frigid air and his advances, but noticing the unpleasant chill that runs through you he presses against you more, letting his warmth radiate onto you. His warm mouth closing around your one nipple as his hand toys with and warms the other, switching between them with a new path of kisses to make sure they get equal attention.  Until he gets impatient to show his affections elsewhere and his mouth lowers while adding soft nips between kisses to reach the hem of the sweatpants he gave you to wear. His fingers nimble as they work on the tie, though he doesn’t do more than that until he has permission from you to pull them down and leave you in only your panties.

“Oh the thoughts I had while helping you get untangled from your shirt last night my flower, and to think now a few of them are becoming reality.” Minho places a kiss to your hip, as his hands gently spread your legs, loving the way he’s able to fluster you so easily, “I’ve been dying for a taste and you’re not making it any easier for me. May I?” 

The way he drags his thumb over the wet patch of your panties makes it hard to respond when you’re moaning and focused on that surge of pleasure, but the thought of getting something more urges you to form words, “Y-Yes please, I’ve been wanting to feel your mouth.”

“All you had to do was ask precious.” Minho gently blows against the wet patch making you squirm before kissing your thigh and slipping off your panties and lowering himself between your legs, placing the gentlest of kisses to your clit. The way you whine impatiently makes him chuckle against your core only making you squirm, his thumbs rubbing softly against your plush thighs as he grips them firmly to keep them open instead of impeding his work. He has no intent on tormenting you with teasing, not this morning anyways, but he still wants to savor the moment. The way he licks through your folds slow yet firm enough to spark delicious waves of pleasure through you, enough so that you can’t complain too much about his pace. Minho’s tongue and lips working everywhere to get every last drop of you that he can, while also focusing on your reactions to find what makes you feel the best. Knowing that his own patience will wear thin soon enough and he wants to know how to throw you over that sweet edge with more intensity than you thought possible, wanting to make all of you feel as amazing as his heart did upon hearing your confession. 

“M-Minho please, I want to feel all of you.” Desperation bleeds into your words and actions as you squirm against his grip, hips trying to roll against his mouth and it has his eyes darkening with a new surge of lust. Nearly giving into you pleas, but you’re his first priority and it has him pulling away slightly making you whimper.

“Shh pretty girl, shh.” Minho coos softly, grip loosening as he runs his hands over your thighs and hips trying to get you to relax some, “Calm down, don’t get so worked up. I’ll give you what you want, I promise. You just need to calm down so that I can get you ready for me. We’ve waited a long time I know, but you can be good and wait just a little longer can’t you?”

This time a simple nod isn’t enough for him as he’s a little firmer with you in this moment, pinching your thigh lightly as he demands your words, “Y-Yes sir, I can be good for you.”

Minho has to take a deep, shuttering breath when he hears the word sir fall from your lips so perfectly, now was not the time to lose control, not when he wanted to show you every emotion he’d had trapped inside for so long. Not when he knew there’d be plenty of time for that later. Yet, it does have him snap a little as he dives between your legs again with more purpose. Lips suckling and kissing your clit like his survival depended on it, eyes locked on your face as he feels your fingers weave into his hair. The soft tug you give has him moaning against your clit, only adding to that pleasure as he eases a finger in, though it’s not long before he’s able to add another. Curling them with each thrust in search of the spot that would have you trembling against him, thriving off the pleasure he’d able to feed you right now, nothing else in the world mattering more than your cries for him and the way you lose yourself to the sensations. He knows he’s found that spot, when you’re clenching around him, practically sucking his fingers in, thighs shaking as your edge hovers so close and yet just barely out of reach. 

“Minho, please I’m close. Please make me cum or give me your cock, I-I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” Your pleas sound magical to Minho, it being enough for him to give you what you want, speeding up his fingers as his tongue flicks against your clit as he brings it between his lips again. Willing to throw your over the edge for the first time, so that he can have you losing his own patience as your nails drag lightly over his shoulders. The was you fall apart beneath him is like a work of art, the most beautiful Minho has ever seen as he slips his fingers from your spasming core to gently lick over you and ride you through the pleasure until you come back to him. Kissing you briefly before licking his fingers clean while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“You’re sweeter than I ever could have imagined my flower.” Minho hums in approval, his smirk almost showing more in his eyes than on his lips. You’re quick to respond though not wanting him to drag it out any longer.

“I bet we’d taste sweeter together, but there’s only one way to find that out now isn’t there?” You purr back as your fingers work to untie his sweatpants, gripping both them and his undergarments to impatiently push both down at once. Freeing his beautiful, hardened length to you finally. Not giving him to to ask for your permission before you rub his tip through your folds, leg locking around his waist to urge his hips closer. Your actions seem to be enough as he places his hands on either side of you, slowly pushing in and leaning in as he gives you a moment to adjust to him.

“You were awfully loud earlier flower, if you don’t quiet down then all the boys will know what we’ve been up to. Do you want that?” Minho’s question is somewhat serious, but it also holds a teasing to it as he’s proud of the fact that he can make you feel good enough to be so loud. You getting him back by rolling your hips against him and earning a groan from him. Hands slipping around his neck to tug him down and tease his lips with your own.

“Why don’t you shut me up then?” Your words are almost daring and they have him crashing his lips messily against yours as his own hips start to move against you. The patience between you both is gone as he finds a quick pace and yet he’s not manhandling or overly rough in his treatment, the erotic scene still one of passionate lovers. Baring their emotions to each other in the most desperate of ways despite not being able to handle a slow pace any longer. It being everything you could have asked for and more, right now you didn’t need the soft, slow lovemaking. You need this the desperate lovemaking, the kind that showed that Minho had been longing for you just as much as you’d been longing for him. The kind that showed that you were his now and that he would show you that in every way possible for as long as you would ask it of him. Where every move he made was to find what made you feel best, because you were what he most cared for in this world and where it was so much better than he could have imagined that he wasn’t sure if he could hold off. Though he was intent on your pleasure coming first as he angled himself to perfectly hit the spots he found brought you the most pleasure with each drag of his cock, thumb rubbing quick circles into your clit as his other hand tangled into your hair to keep your lips pressed against his. Taking in all of your moans as your pleasure explodes once more, the feeling of you cumming on his cock enough to send him spiraling into his own high as he moans into your mouth in response. Slowing his thrusts as he rides you both through your highs. Hands gently tracing shapes over your heated flesh, finding you glowing in the aftermath of your climax.

“Come on my flower, I’ll help you shower before we join the others.” Minho kisses your forehead softly before scooping you up to take you to the bathroom. Getting you in the steaming shower as quickly as he can so that you won’t have to face the cold while bare for too long and so that you two can be quick enough to be able to get some food in before the others ate everything. Not that he wouldn’t cook you up a good breakfast if it came down to it. Willing to shower you in all affections imaginable after what you both had just done. Though before long Minho had you both cleaned up and in warm fresh clothes, going down the stairs to join the others.

“Weren’t you wearing something different this morning?” Jisung questions Minho slyly as if they hadn’t all heard what you two had been up to earlier. Minho knew what he meant, but still didn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Yeah well I took a shower, so I put on something else.” Minho shrugs pulling out a seat for you, before taking his own so you two could eat breakfast as well.

“Oh did Y/N shower too? Her hair is all damp still.” Jisung innocently inquires taking a bite of his pancake trying to hide his smug expression. Minho gently moving your damp hair away from your bare skin so that it wouldn’t get too chilled.

“Well then you obviously know the answer.” Minho rolls his eyes adding his portion of whipped cream and other sweet toppings to your plate instead of his own.

“Hm I just find that interesting considering we only heard one shower running.” Jisung smirks at you both as the others snicker and chuckle, teasing you all through breakfast while exchanging knowing looks. 

The teasing had died down some later as you all gathered around to exchange gifts. Feeling your heart stutter as you hold Minho’s in your hands, the man seeming flustered as you go to open it. Finding a small necklace inside one that looked like a lifeline with a heart at the end, flipping it over to find his initials on the back besides yours. 

“So if things had been different this would have been when I confessed.” He admits in a soft whisper into your ear,  a blush adorning his cheeks so beautifully as you laugh softly.

“It’s alright I liked the way things turned out much better anyways.” Minho admits before the guys pretend to gag and whine at all the pda they were witnessing.

“Alright enough of the mushy stuff, you have to open mine next.” Hyunjin dramatically insists shoving his gift in front of you, a pretty envelope sitting on top and beckoning you to open the card first. Your attention immediately drawn to a special little note at the bottom...

PS. Minho’s name was the only one in that hat.

“Well guess I ruined your little plan huh?” You tease, flustering along with him as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek in front of everyone.

[sunkisseddaffodils]

hi i would like to dorequest onewould like a bbc sherlock, in 1890, in which he meets and falls in love with the reader

Pairing: Sherlock x female reader

Genre: au, historical

An: thanks for requesting!! Hope you like it ☺️

-

The rain splattered against the windscreen of a horse-drawn carriage that was arriving up the driveway of a grand Georgian estate. It was early in the morning, so foggy and cold that upon stepping out of the carriage Sherlock could see his breath in the air. He hastily jogged towards the front entrance but he didn’t even have to knock when a petite and somewhat dishevelled lady came bounding out of the manor. She was in quite a distressed state when she introduced herself:

‘Good morning, sir. I’m Y/N L/N, the housemaid. Please do tell. Are you from the police?’

Sherlock tried his best to be comforting as he nodded 'yes' and asked her to show him to the scene of the incident. Y/n lead him up two flights of stairs and then into a private study. As soon he entered the room, his mind was already awhirl with theories. Books were scattered across the room, having been thrown from the large shelves. A vase lay broken next to the desk in the centre of the study. The window behind the desk was smashed into pieces. But the main focus of the room was the man with bruise marks all over his neck, sitting dead in the antique desk chair. It was the owner of this estate, Lord Williams. This was why Sherlock was here. He was here to solve his murder. Sherlock was darting about the place, inspecting every inch and corner. The housemaid, Y/N, was standing silently in the corner, sniffling to herself, grieved at the loss of her master. Suddenly, she murmured something. Sherlock snapped around to look at her.

‘Look… look at the window’

The detective ran over to her and then did as she recommended. Shortly, he knew what she was referring to. The window had been broken from the outside. That inferred the murderer had entered into the house through this room. He looked at the housemaid, curiously.

‘How did you know that?’

Y/N was fiddling with the straps on her bonnet as she answered.

‘It’s obvious, is it not?’

The door was shoved open with a colossal force by a man with a wiry face escorted by two other men. The fury in his voice echoed around the room when he saw Sherlock’s presence at his crime scene. They were the actual police inspectors meant to be investigating this murder.

‘May I ask what you are doing here?.’

The detective inspector may have been a substantial amount taller and broader than Sherlock, but the latter had no problem walking right over to him and standing his ground.

‘Despective Inspector Lestrade sent me.’

The two loathed each other.

‘You have no authority to be here.’

The detective inspector and Sherlock were having a staring contest waiting for one of them to break. Tactically, Sherlock withdrew and conceded, sitting down on a chair nearby and then stated:

‘Well, if you think you are capable of solving this, then go ahead.’

He proposed this while gesturing to the room before them which had hundreds of clues lying in wait of what had happened when Lord Williams was killed. Sherlock knew for a fact that they weren’t sharp enough to find them all. The detective inspector simply laughed in his face.

‘There’s no need. I’ll think you’ll find we have the murderer in this very room.’

Abruptly, the two accompanying men turned to Y/N, their rifles pointed straight at her. Her eyes widened in shock, putting her hands up defensively.

‘Y/N L/N, we are arresting you on the suspicion of the murder of Lord Williams. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence’

And with that they restrained her, eager to flee the manor and reprimand her in custody. Before this could happen though, Sherlock pressed his back against the door to the study firmly, determined to stop them from making an idiotic error.

‘Wrong!’

The detective inspector pursed his lips, having had enough of Sherlock’s obstinance.

‘Remove yourself from the door!’

Sherlock disregarded his order.

‘Tell me, inspector, what motive does Y/N have?’

He sighed, thinking that if he could answer this one question then he could be out of this damned estate and off to lunch.

‘It doesn’t matter about the motive. She was the only was in the house when he was killed. There’s no one around this house for miles. She was the only one who could have done it.’

Sherlock remained in front of the door, ready to humiliate the detective.

‘Yet again, incorrect. Inspector, you see but you do not observe. So again, tell me, what is her motive?’

His eyes sparked with rage, practically spitting out his answer.

‘She must have gone mad. She is a woman after all.’

Slowly, Sherlock sauntered over to the inspector and pressed a finger on his chest accusingly.

‘Although Y/N may impart the image of being a simple, little housemaid, she has a lot of intelligence. Far more than I can say of you.’

Sherlock ignored the evil glare radiating from the inspector as he passed him to walk over to where Y/N was being restrained and smiled at her encouragingly.

‘So, Y/N, why don’t you inform us of why it could not have been you who murdered Lord Williams?

Y/N, who had just about recovered from the panic of being arrested, coughed slightly and caught her breath. Her voice breaking as she deduced to Sherlock and the others from what she saw around the room.

‘You can tell that window was broken from the outside by the glass laying all over the floor inside this room. Why would I need to break into the house when I already live here? Continuing, the size of the bruise marks along his neck suggests they were done by someone with large hands, most likely a man.’

As Y/N was making her case, the detective inspector looked at each of the clues and found that she was making sense. Whether he liked he not, Sherlock and Y/N were right. Rubbing his eyes, he signalled for the two policemen to let Y/N go. Whilst, he and his men were going to inspect the rest of the house, he ordered the pair of them to leave the house immediately or he would have them arrested for obstructing a murder investigation.

Since that stressful day, two months had passed. Y/N was no longer working as a housemaid but solving crimes right alongside Sherlock Holmes. He solved the cases, she wrote about them in the newspapers afterwards. As time went on, this odd feeling towards Y/N kept creeping up. At first, he didn’t understand what it was. But then he knew. He was afraid to say it was love.

[butwhyduh]

Ephemoral

Damian Wayne x reader

Summary: another of my betrayal stories. Damian is like 20. I don’t want to betray children lmao.

You were saccharine like the sweet honey candy Damian would eat as a child. Your laughter was a soft melody he adored. And sight of you with tears in your eyes made him want to rip the world apart. His love for you was like an ancient Grecian tale and it scared Damian. He cared too deeply for someone who’s feet were so shallow in this world. He’d died once and could easily do so again.

But laying next to you on a blanket on the south lawn of Wayne Manor, made Damian not care about his fear. You were here and so was he. His eyes watched you stretch and smile. He couldn’t help but lean over to hug your waist. He breathed in your soft perfum deeply with closed eyes.

“Dami! What are you doing?” You laughed and he grinned.

“Capturing the princess,” he said kissing your collarbone. You laughed and pulled away as he tickled your ribs. “You’re so beautiful today. Have I told you?”

“No. I’m only wearing a hoodie and jeans, Dami,” you reminded him.

“It’s not your clothing that makes you beautiful,” Damian said leaning over you. You looked at his intense green eyes framed with thick dark lashes and full brows. His tan skin glowed in the sunshine. “It’s what’s underneath,” he said romantically.

“Kinky,” you whispered in his ear with a grin and he stiffened before rolling his eyes.

“I was trying to be sweet. Though you are quite lovely physically as well, beloved,” Damian conceded. You grinned and grasped the back of his neck. You pulled him into a kiss. You spent most of the unseasonably warm winter day kissing on the lawn. Damian didn’t dare take it further as you were stanch on your beliefs that sex should be private.

“What would you like to eat, my beloved,” he asked later in the day. Damian lay on his back, looking at the dying lights of dust. You had nestled into his arms to watch too.

“Hmmm how about something spicy,” you asked looking over to him. He grinned and nodded. Damian could never tell you no.

“Let’s get changed and we can go eat somewhere properly,” he suggested. You rolled over in his arms to look at his face.

“Really?” You asked. “Don’t you have patrol tonight?”

“Later. But right now, I want to spoil my love,” he said grasping the back of your neck gently to pull you into a kiss.

Damian had gotten a table at an exclusive restaurant. Of course he had. One word and he could go anywhere: Wayne. You considered feeling bad but as you walked up the stairs to a private table on the balcony that watched over Gotham’s night sky, you could care less. The city could be on fire and Damian wouldn’t have noticed. His eyes were on the dress that curved to your form, the soft clicking sound of your heels, the wine colored lipstick you wore.

You chatted softly about things in your life. University classes and hobbies. Damian couldn’t help but feel a guilt. You knew he was a Wayne and was Robin. But you didn’t know he was an Al Ghul or his long complicated past. The fact that he was raised as an assassin. The fact that his mother had verbally threatened to kill you a few times and only Damian’s threats back had stopped her.

“Damian, are you okay?” You asked after a while. He had a hard line of his brow and he was silent. Damian shook himself and sat up straighter.

“I apologize. My mind was wandering,” he admitted. You grasped his hand.

“To what?”

“My mother,” he said truthfully. Damian didn’t know why he told you that. One of your eyebrows rose. He had never said anything about her and the issue seemed painful.

“Really?”

“Yes. 2 days ago was her birthday,” Damian said. Not that the league would ever celebrate simply being born. You had to earn a celebration in war or strategy.

“Oh. Do you speak to her,” you finally asked. You’d wanted to know for a long time but was scared to bring it up. Why was he willing to share Robin with you but not his own mother?

“No. I haven’t in years. She’s....” Damian failed to come up with the right words. A murderer? Assassin? Cold heartless bitch? No. In her own way, she loved him. And unfortunately it was a deeply dysfunctional way. “Strong willed. And hard to get along with. It’s hard to explain.”

“I see. Do you want to get along with her? You’re a grown man now. Surely she would respect that,” you said and he almost rolled his eyes at how innocent and naive you sounded. His mother would rather rip out her own spine than let Damian be his own man if it was up to her. Damian simply squeezed your hand gently.

“I don’t think so. She believes eternal ‘I’m your mother, listen to me.’ We’ve butt heads for years over it. Even though we live across the globe apart,” Damian said with a rueful smile. He hadn’t told you about her, not really. But it felt good to tell you that his relationship with her wasn’t great. It was partial honesty at least.

“Where does she live,” you asked and his brain froze for a half minute. That was something he could not answer. She was far too dangerous to know about. Ignorance was truly bliss on the account.

“She travels a lot. China, Middle East, Peru. She doesn’t stay in one place very long,” Damian said. He was truthful at least.

“Wow. She must have a great job to travel like that. What does she do,” you asked. He almost laughed in frustration. When did you become the detective? That’s not fair to you. Inquisition is not a flaw in of itself.

“She works in defense contracts. It’s very confidential and complicated,” he finally answered. You nodded sagely.

“Like the rest of your family. Complicated and confidential,” you answered giving him a wry smile. Damian smiled back.

“Perhaps. Perhaps. I hate to eat and run, beloved. But duty calls. Can I call you a car to the manor?” Damian asked. You nodded. There was one company that the Wayne family would hire rides from. One of Alfred’s ex military buddies owned a contractor company that hired private security that doubled as drivers. Confidential and discreet was their motto and they had never let down the family.

20 minutes later a member of the staff walked you, and a small box of food from the dessert platter, to a waiting car. The driver was a quiet intense looking man. He had obvious muscles despite being in a full suit. It wasn’t a surprise. He was security after all.

“Wayne Manor, please sir,” you called to him. He nodded.

“Of course Madame,” he answered in a very soft accent that wasn’t Gothamite. You sat back and relaxed. It was almost 11 and you were getting a little tired. Your head began to droop and your eyes became heavy. It was in that moment that the car made a wrong turn. You sat up straight.

“Sir, it was supposed to be a right turn back there. You’ve gone the wrong way,” you said. He only rolled the partition closed. You gasped. “Sir,” you said forcefully as he drove faster the wrong way. You looked at your phone and noticed a no service sign. There was no way with the amount Damian paid for it. You tried the knob at a stop sign to find it locked like you worried. Your heart pounded roughly. You were being kidnapped.

For 2 hours, the car drove farther and farther out of Gotham. Your city was nowhere to be seen and you didn’t have a clue where you were. The car finally drove up the gravel drive of what looked like a military compound. You gulped as it stopped. The door opened and the man motioned for you to get out. You shrank to the back of the seat.

“If you don’t come out willingly, I will have to drag you and I’d hate to ruin your pretty dress,” he said in a tone that made you think that he hoped to ruin your clothing. Your eyes were wide but you climbed out on your own. He looked you over hungrily before shoving your shoulder toward the front door. You gasped. Your heels made loud clicking noises on the concrete floor and you almost grimaced at how loud you felt. There was no sneaking in here.

He walked you up a set of stairs into a private room. The man gave you a look over before locking you in. Almost as an insult, he hadn’t bothered to take your phone from you. It was useless without any signal.

In another room, Talia lounged in a chair. She watched the security footage of your room. You looked around stiffly before finally sitting on the corner of the bed. You were kidnapped and being held in a cement room in the middle of nowhere without a way to contact anyone in a dress and heels. This was less than ideal.

“I wonder what my son sees in her. She didn’t fight at all. Came willingly. Not much in the way of protecting herself. How could she possibly be a good partner,” Talia asked and the men beside her knew better than to answer. Talia decided to meet you herself.

She casually opened the door and walked in. You stared at her. Talia smiled softly. You were terrified and scared people are easy to control.

“Hello,” she started. “My name is Talia, and you are dating my son, Damian.”

What an odd specific coincidence that you would see her right after talking about her. She wasn’t dressed as if she was in the military and damn sure wasn’t in China or Peru. What didn’t Damian tell you?

“I simply had to meet you. I must say that I’m... disappointed. You aren’t much of a fighter, are you?” She said. Much like a good lawyer, Talia asked questions she already knew the answer to.

“I didn’t know I needed to be,” you said and she grinned.

“No. But you do have a mouth. Such a pretty little one. Too bad,” she said and before you could comprehend what she meant, you were hit in the mouth. You cried out in pain and covered your face in your hand. Your shoulders curled around you protectively and you scooted to the back of the bed. You could taste iron and you wiped away some blood. She had busted your lip already.

“Didn’t even attempt to deflect my hit. And your soft lip burst open instantly. You could never handle a real fight,” she said before tutting. You could only stare up at her as she towered over you. She was right. Damian had taught you a few self defense maneuvers but you had never fought anyone.

You could see parts of her that were in Damian. Besides the obvious skin color, she had his intense eyes and her predatory mannerisms. Damian had never used it on you, but you had seen Robin scare criminals without a word. You had thought it was a Batman thing, but it was from her. Batman hung over them like a predatory bird that killed quickly, with mercy. Talia looked at them the way a cat looked at a mouse. She was going to play with them before eating. You resisted the urge to shiver.

“Damian will be here in a few hours. Why don’t I see if I can toughen you up beforehand,” she said smiling. Talia gripped your shoulder and dug her nails in. You groaned. You tried to pull away.

“No no, dear. That will cost you,” she said before backhanding your face. You gasped out a sob as blood started flowing again.

—————————

It took Damian a full 3 hours to realize you were missing. Embarrassingly long time in his mind. He called the car company to ask about the ride. Damian expected you to be asleep and didn’t want to wake you to calm his mind.

“Mr Wayne, we have an issue,” a woman’s crisp voice cake through the phone. Damian was taking a break on a rooftop.

“What do you mean,” he growled. She stuttered before answering.

“ we can’t find the driver. He won’t respond to our cal-“

“How long? How long have you known?” He asked. Damian was pacing the rooftop with pure murder on his face.

“About an hour, sir. We called GCPD immediately,” she said.

“Your incompetence astounds me,” he said before hanging up. Damian called you instantly. After the fifth time of your phone ringing to voicemail, he was almost in a panic. He sat down breathing deeply. He could call his father but this was his problem. He’d give it 2 hours and then call Bruce.

It was 10 minutes before he had his answer. There was a loud clicking sound in his comms signaling that Oracle was about to talk.

“Robin, there is a man tied up with a sign for you,” she said. “5th and Cherrry behind the gazebo. Police have already taken him into custody for care and questioning. But the message...” she trailed off.

“The Wayne place where it all started. Where you started. Or she’s dead,” Oracle read. “Does that mean anything Robin? Should I contact Batman? Nightwing?”

“No. I’ll take care of it,” he said hanging up on her. Damian knew exactly where to go as gross at it was. Bruce’s old compound in the woods where Damian was conceived. Of course his mother would reference something that weird. It was a full two hour drive up there and Damian was flying on his motorcycle. The place was now privately owned, probably the league. He climbed in through a side window, pulling out his swords as he snuck around. He turned a corner and stopped.

“My son,” Talia said with a false warmth. Damian looked over at her and she grinned. Behind her was you and Damian’s heart dropped. You were on your knees, your arms tied above your head in a V shape. The delicate dress you had worn to dinner only a few hours before was dirty with one strap hanging on your arm. The topside of your breast was visible as you breathed erratically. Spot of blood and dirt clung to the dress and Damian could see the sweat on you from where he stood yards away. Your bottom lip was bloody and swollen and you had the beginnings of a black eye. Talia had definitely been hurting you.

You looked up at him, your eyes were so fucking scared but hopeful. Hopeful that he would save you. But the second Damian moved towards you, Talia put a dagger to your throat.

“Okay Mother. You have my attention. What do you want?” Damian asked. He covered the raw rage in his voice with a blankness. She would win if he was emotional.

“I wanted to meet your companion. She is on a whole.... disappointing. Weaker than a kitten. No fight. She is not worthy of you, Damian. Not someone who you should conceive heirs of the Al Ghul line with. She is nothing,” Talia said.

Now Damian wanted to fight his mother, say that you were more important to him than she ever was. But if he did that, the target on your back was forever. And he didn’t think his mother would simply beat you next time. So he did something he hated.

“Mother. You misunderstand the situation. I have no intention of having children with her. I only keep her around to amuse me,” he said and your mouth fell open. You sagged against the ropes. “You’ve wasted your time kidnapping a toy. Mother, I thought you better than this. Let her go.”

You started crying. You were nothing to him. Just like you always feared. You weren’t wealthy or connected or powerful. Damian had been playing with you and you fell in love.

“Why don’t I just kill her,” she suggested and you gasped.

“No. As Robin, I cannot let you kill an innocent. She’s been naive but doesn’t deserve that,” he said and Talia backed away.

A side window broke. Batman and Nightwing landed on the ground. Talia’s men began fighting. Damian ran towards her and she evaded him.

“I won’t kill her. You have my words. But what I did was nothing compared to what you did, my son,” she said with a laugh. She ran past Bruce. “My beloved. We will meet again,” she said before climbing in an armored car that pulled up. The three heroes took out her men and tied them up.

Damian quickly ran to you and cut the rope with his katana. You fell into his arms. You were barely awake and tears fell down your face. Damian looked you over before hugging you tight. You tried to push him away.

“Don’t,” you said wetly. “Don’t touch me,” you said wobbly on your feet. “I’m not your toy.”

“Beloved. I said all of that to save you. I love you,” he said trying to get close and you put your arm up.

“No. I just want to go home,” you said barely pushing past him. You only made it a few steps before you collapsed. Damian caught you and half carried you bridal style as you looked away from him and sobbed. Nightwing came over quickly, sending the trouble.

“I can help you,” he asked and you pushed from Damian’s arms to his. Dick carried you to the batmobile. You sat sobbing in your hands.

“What happened?” Dick asked after closing the door and standing by Damian.

“I had to tell mother I was not interested in her. What I said was cruel, I’ll admit. But she wanted to kill her, Richard,” Damian said. His whole face looked pained. Dick nodded.

Damian followed the batmobile to the cave. Dick carried you to the med bay where your cuts and scrapes were cleaned. You changed clothing. Ice was applied to your bruises and you looked so close to sleep. Damian stood close by nervously.

“Go away,” you said to him and Damian’s brows furrowed and he closed his eyes. “I don’t want you near me.”

He nodded and left the area. Instead, Damian watched you on the main monitor. You cried into a pillow before falling asleep. Damian could barely watch.

“What do I do?” He asked Dick miserably. “How do I take back what I said?”

“Give her time. Give her space. She’ll just to process it first” Dick suggested. Damian nodded.

That’s how you went an entire month without seeing him. He watched you everyday. Damian gave you all the space you needed. It was long after your lip had healed before he spoke to you. You stayed at a friend’s house. You signed up for college classes, got a job at a coffee shop, and just tried to move on.

But it had truly fucked you up. Yeah, you had nightmares about Talia beating the shit out of you. But what was worse was that every memory of Damian was tainted. Did he truly love you or was he simply playing with you. He seemed like he had loved you. Was it all fake?

He came to your work. It was purely an accident. Damian just wanted a coffee. He walked up to the counter pulling out his wallet and almost dropped it when he saw you. Your hair was falling out of a hairnet and your white dress shirt had seen better day. But Damian thought you looked so beautiful.

“Hi,” he said and you stiffened.

“Damian,” you breathed.

“How- how are you?” He asked.

“Fine. Do you want a coffee or something? There’s a line,” you motioned behind him. He quickly ordered a drink.

“Can I talk to you sometime?” He asked as you made the drink.

“Uuh.”

“Yes? Give me just a few minutes of your time,” he begged and you stopped to look at him. You sighed.

“I have a break in 15 minutes. You can talk then I guess,” you answered. You handed him his coffee.

“Thanks. Great,” he said with a determined look before sitting at a table. Damian watched you work almost the entire time. It was a little unnerving but how he used to be before.

You sat down with a drink beside him. Damian played with his fingers before speaking. You couldn’t help notice how handsome he looked in a dark green Henley and black jeans.

“I’m sorry I haven’t tried to talk to you earlier,” he started. “But I need you to know, everything I said that night to my mother was a lie. I have never thought of you like that. But if I showed interest in you, she would have targeted you. I should have told you about her earlier.”

“What does she really do?”

Damian sighed.

“She’s an assassin. She raised me to be one until I was 8 and then I moved in with my father. I should have warned you about her. She’s crazy. Obsessed with the lineage in our family. It’s very strange. I don’t share her beliefs,” he said.

“That’s good because that was... weird. I mean, the whole thing was but her talking about heirs was super weird,” you said taking a drink.

“Yeah. Yeah. I sometimes think she picked Bruce because of his pedigree. But more important that any of that madness is you. I miss you,” he says earnestly. You gulped.

It was painful. He called you everything you worried about. Nothing but a toy. A distraction.

“I really really miss you. Because I-“ he struggled to speak. “I love you,” Damian finally said. He had never said that one. He had always danced just beside those words.

“Dami,” you said cautiously.

“I love you. And I always have,” he said holding your hand. You didn’t pull away. “Please let me make it up to you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I- I don’t know,” you said feeling yourself fall under his spell.

“Please,” he whispered leaning towards you. You leaned in as well. His pretty green eyes stared at you, pleading. You couldn’t say no to him either.

“Okay,” you said. Damian gently, like he might break you, gave you a kiss. He pulled back to look at your face for any reaction. You had a little smile before giving him another kiss.

[applejuizz]

laughter of youth.

the scout regiment has managed to rescue eren and recover annie’s crystal from their enemies, yet at the cost of many soldiers’ lives. levi learns a valuable lesson of trust. characters: levi ackerman x gn! reader (platonic!), historia reiss, sasha braus, jean kirstein, mikasa ackerman, eren jaeger, connie springer warnings: canon violence (vague descriptions), mentions of blood/wounds word count: 1.764 inspired by attack on titan 2: final battle and the story of “our man”, the customizable in-game character.

Paperwork after paperwork after all the paperwork...

Levi had come to dread the sound of hasty footsteps pacing up to his wooden office door and its prolonged creak as Miss Four Eyes allowed themselves in carrying yet another pile of experiment reports, barely containing their unreasonable excitement. While they fervently sought the tiniest free space to fit the monstrosity held in their arms, their flow of Titan anatomy ramblings never ceased.

Levi, you won’t believe what Eren managed to do today...!

Victor - who the hell is Victor? - stood awake the whole night and was as energetic as ever in the morning! This new breed of Titans is quite interesting!

I keep naming these Titans and I won’t shut up already and I should slap myself before you kick me across the fields, Levi! - he couldn’t possibly describe the joy these words would bring him coming out of Hange’s mouth. Too good to be true, unfortunately.

He shifted into his chair, straightening his back and shaking off the annoyance that had been constantly pulling on his nerves for three days already.

Thankfully, his office was quiet and the hallway was blissfully empty. Hange had taken a day off from experiments to let Eren rest. On that note, Jean and Eren had stopped arguing for once, Sasha had ceased her relentless search of meat and he could finally relish in the silence surrounding him. It wasn’t often that he got to have such quiet moments to himself.

And because they were so rare, only when he got the chance to savor them did he realize how much he actually hated them.

It wasn’t that he disliked being alone - on the contrary, he loved solitude a little too much for his own good. Instead, he found that whenever he allowed his mind to rest, he was assaulted by intrusive thoughts and memories that he’d rather bury deep in the back of his consciousness. Perks of being a soldier.

His eyes took in rows and columns of observations on the papers in front of him. His hand signed each and every one of them away promptly, yet his mind was drifting, conjuring up crimson fields, disgusting Titan flesh sliced in half, the blood-curdling screams of soldiers trampled off their horses or chewed to their demise. Nothing he wasn’t used to. However, that didn’t mean it didn’t make his skin crawl sometimes.

He thought back to commander Erwin, weak and thinning, laying in a hospital bed with only an arm left. Levi knew his superior was a strong man; he didn’t worry much about his recovery. What did plant the seed of doubt in his heart was the fact that somehow, the man he’d thought nearly invincible had been so badly wounded, and that alone was a strong indicator of the deep shit they all were in.

And of course, the one member in his squad that had never returned from the battlefield hung dark and heavy over his consciousness, a shadow of guilt, the same damn story repeating itself over and over again. No matter how much he tried to avoid it, it came crawling back like an awful nightmare, looming over him along with the deaths of all the other people he has trusted and cared for. Isabel and Farlan, Petra, Eld, Günther, Oruo… and now them too.

I won’t die on you, sir!

Like hell you won’t.

Their promise rang in his ears as if trying to mock him. The shadows of his consciousness sneered at him: look what happens when you decide to trust people, you twerp. Should’ve known better. Haven’t you learned your lesson?

“Tsk.” He set the cup he’d mindlessly lifted back on his desk. The tea had gone cold. He’d have to ask someone to brew him another. Not exactly pleasant, but enough to distract him from the dark path his thoughts had gone onto.

Before he could even stand up from his chair, though, loud voices boomed from downstairs through the whole hideout and caused the floor beneath his feet to vibrate. They were followed by clattering of pots and Jaeger’s unmistakable yelling, obnoxious and over dramatic as always.

So much for his quiet moment.

With an exasperated sigh, Levi picked up his cup again and left his desk and the piles of papers behind, shaking off the last of his melancholy. These damn brats can’t get anything done without wrecking havoc first…

The kitchen was right beneath his office, so all he had to do was climb down the short flight of stairs, put the cadets back in their place, ask horseface to brew him some more tea and go back upstairs. Simple enough.

He came to the sight of Eren, Jean, Mikasa, Armin, Sasha and Connie all hunched around in a compact group, chattering loudly and all over each other. Historia’s dulcet tone surprisingly prevailed amongst deeper voices, although she was nowhere to be seen.

“Wait! You need bandages before anything else! The gash in your side isn’t looking good…”

“Yeah! You’ve literally been through hell and back!” Jean marvelled.

“No, guys! They need food!” Sasha exclaimed as if she'd made a grand discovery, grabbing a half-boiled potato straight out of the pot.

“Sasha, no! The potatoes aren’t done yet-”

“Oi, what the hell is going on here?!”

“C-Captain Levi!” Jaeger stumbled back on his feet, broom in his hands, his headscarf sitting askew on his head. The huddle immediately dispersed, everyone had gone dead silent. Levi scanned the room quickly, not paying much attention to the soldiers’ faces and rolled his eyes.

“I thought I told you to clean up the kitchen, not turn it into a pigsty!” He passed a critical hand over the table, gathering up the dust in his palm and making a grimace. Cleaning supplies, pots and cups were scattered all over the floor and the table, as if the cadets had all come to a mutual agreement of dropping everything at once just to see how many white hairs Levi would gain in his hair.

“B-but-”

“Get back to work and stop yelping, you’re turning my brain into mush.”

But before he could open his mouth to bark another order at Jean, his eyes finally landed on who was once the centre of the huddle: Historia Reiss holding on to a hunched figure’s arm, obviously attempting to provide support, but ending up resembling more of a lost puppy clinging to someone’s sleeve.

“Captain Levi!” the petite girl exclaimed, a hint of relief present in her voice, “I-I went to get water from the fountain and I found them there! They seem stable, but I think they might need a doctor-”

His thoughts were running at light’s speed, yet he couldn’t get his body to wake up from its frozen state at the bottom of the stairs. What must’ve only been seconds felt like hours. As if time had decided to finally slow down, to finally stop the nonsensical blurry of days, months, years passing by only to give him a chance to breathe. A chance to understand. Was it just too good to be true?

“Captain…?” Springer trailed off, eyes bulging out of his little bald head, and quickly recoiled as Jean subtly elbowed him in the stomach. Only then did Levi notice that he had been standing among the shattered porcelain of what used to be his teacup, his hand still hanging in the air as if clinging to the ghost of the object.

The cadet finally raised their eyes from the floor, face bloodied and battered, yet still brightened by youth and devotion.

“Captain Levi… sir.” They saluted in a weak voice, raising two fingers to their temple.

Their last name rolled off Levi’s lips in a stronger tone than he thought he’d manage, yet still trailed off a bit in disbelief. Clearing his throat, he stepped over the broken porcelain.

“So. You came back, huh?” Out of all the words piled up on the tip of his tongue, begging to spill out, the best he could come up with was a rhetorical question. But the soldier still let out a dry chuckle, straightening their back as much as their wounds allowed them to. Their legs wobbled and the Ackerman girl, who had been quietly watching from the sidelines, immediately jumped in to offer extra support. Seeing the usually stone-faced Mikasa’s facial expression filled with a flurry of emotions similar to those churning in his heart allowed him to relax a bit.

“Of course.” The wounded cadet answered. “I made a promise, didn’t I?”

Levi gave a slight nod, features stoic, yet he felt his heart grow with pride in his chest. The same glint of determination glowed in their eyes as it did back then, during their rookie days, when they had placed their fist over their heart and had sworn to stay alive. He had heard the same promise come out of so many of his dead comrades’ mouths that realistically, he shouldn’t have expected this particular soldier to honor it. Yet for some reason, unknown even to himself, he had chosen to place his fragile trust in them. Maybe it had been their thirst for revenge, or their sheer willpower which, dare he say, could surpass Eren’s; whatever it had been, he did not regret it.

He drew closer, steps light as feathers on the wooden floor and took advantage of their hunched position to card his fingers through their hair, ruffling it affectionately. These damn kids keep getting taller… he thought bitterly to himself. The gesture managed to transform their wince of pain into a look of total and innocent wonder. The look in the eyes of a kid who's just got the utmost gesture of validation from a parent.

“You’re a good kid,” he conceded, patting their scalp twice before letting his hand fall back to his side. He could barely recognize the gentle tone of his own voice. “Although were you not wounded, I’d have roundhouse kicked your ass for scaring everyone like this.”

The phrase hadn’t even been that funny, in his opinion, but they let out a joyous, loud laugh, contagious to the people around them. It even pulled a chuckle out of Mikasa.

And as he stood there in the kitchen, surrounded by the laughter of youth, he finally understood. Placing his trust in these kids, fighting alongside them, protecting them with the price of his life were worth all the risks because they were humanity’s last hope. And he would do anything to one day see their joyful faces wiped clean of crimson wounds and dirt and death. Anything.

[rax-writes]

Enchanted - Part I

Fandom:  The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Pairing:  Caliban x Reader

Warnings:  None

Notes:  I’ve been thirsty for this blond bastard since he popped up in the show, so it’s about time I write for him. // So this is slightly OC, because the reader is a Spellman and it gives some backstory on that, but I still tried to keep it predominantly a reader insert.

As the only trueborn daughter of Edward Spellman, conceived during his very brief, loveless marriage to his late bride, you had grown accustomed to being treated differently. Your aunties fretted over you endlessly, despite being well aware of the fact that you were an extremely proficient witch. You were given unearned, unquestioned respect by each member of the Church of Night, as well as every witch and warlock you met. Typically, they asked you endless questions, being that your father had intended for you to be his successor, prior to his untimely death and Faustus Blackwood’s treachery-ridden rise to the position of High Priest. This meant that you had been a sponge for each and every one of Edward’s theories, teachings, and creeds, as well as his extensive knowledge of spells, conjuring, potions, and other witchcraft.

You prided yourself on being a witch of above-average skill and know-how, although that did not mean you were keen on being subjected to impromptu interviews about it all. Additionally, it seemed as though every single creature you encountered knew your father, which often meant they were twice as heaven-bent on killing you, as he had not been one to take mercy on monsters. All in all, it was rare that you were treated as you – not Edward Spellman’s daughter.

That is, until you encountered a certain self-proclaimed Prince of Hell.

Of course, you had been vehemently against Sabrina entering the Netherworld to save her boyfriend. However, you were aware that her determination knows no bounds, so she’d certainly be going with or without your approval, therefore you decided it’d be best to join her endeavor. Upon entering Hell, you, your sister, and her companions found yourselves on a somber, despondent beach, and a medley of wails filled your ears – which could only mean one thing.

“Wait, so… Hell is a beach?” Harvey inquired dubiously.

“Not quite. Hell is a vast realm, full of a myriad of abysmal regions, and this is merely one of them. In particular: the Shores of Sorrow,” you explained. This new information seemed to distress him further. Theo stood, fear in his eyes as he looked to the cages standing out on the water.

“Guys, look…. What are those?”

“They’re the souls of the damned,” you responded, in unison with another voice. At first, you thought it was some sort of echo, but quickly deduced that it was a separate voice entirely. You turned to see a man standing a short distance away on the beach, and your first thought was that he was so beautiful that he looked monumentally out of place in this dreary landscape. He was quite tall, with lovely green eyes, blonde ringlets cascading around his handsome face, and a body that looked to be hand-crafted by Aphrodite herself.

The visually pleasing stranger held searing eye contact with you as he took a few steps toward your group. He seemed intrigued by the fact that you – someone who was clearly not from Hell – was familiar with your locale.

“They drown as the tide rolls in, over and over… for all eternity,” he elaborated, as your party approached him. He surveyed your sister and her friends, then returned his eyes to you with a charming smirk. “Although, I’m certain you already knew that.”

“Hi, we’re looking for Lilith,” Sabrina stated. “Uh… Madam Satan, Queen of Hell. She’s in Pandemonium, if you happen to know the way.”

“I would be more than happy to assist anyone accompanying a woman of such intellect and ethereal beauty,” the man stated, charm dripping from his voice as his eyes remained set on you. You would not deny that he was easily the most attractive man you’d ever seen, but you were also conscious of the fact that you were in Hell, therefore he was almost certainly a demon – not exactly ideal dating material. So, you merely met his gaze, donning a smirk of your own, crossing your arms gracefully, and giving a slight tilt of the head to wordlessly meet the challenge posed by his advances.

“All blood flows to Pandemonium. Follow the blood-red road where it flows, and there you’ll find the throne of Hell,” he responded, after your silent exchange, as he gestured toward a small creek of blood nearby.

“Thanks,” Sabrina said, nodding. “And you are?”

“We greatly appreciate your kindness, sir, but I’m afraid we’ve no time for formalities,” you interjected. It was just as well, as the man seemed hesitant of answering her query.

“Understandable. Although, I do hope to cross paths with you again,” he admitted, then took a step forward to take your hand and bring your knuckles to his lips, maintaining eye contact with you as he did so. He then turned to your sister. “Never step off the road. It’s clever you’re wearing dead men’s shoes, though… any demon worth his salt can smell mortal flesh a mile away.”

The two of you shared one last, lingering look, then he slowly spun on his heel and returned his attention to the nearby elaborate sandcastle.

“Come on. Let’s go,” Sabrina said, and the five of you made your way to the flowing blood.

After a not-so-pleasant stroll through the Field of Witness, and the Forest of Torment, where you searched with Theo and Harvey as Sabrina and Roz located Dorian’s pestilential flower, as well as an excursion to a hellish version of Sabrina’s high school, you found yourselves in the throne room of Pandemonium. Lilith decided to allow Sabrina to leave with Nicholas, so long as she would crown Lilith in front of all of Hell. She agreed to do so, but as soon as the ceremony began, it was evident that the Kings were still displeased.

“And who do you propose would rule?” Lilith asked.

“Ahh,” Beelzebub responded, and it was clear that Lilith had stepped right into his trap. “All hail Caliban, Prince of Hell. Molded from the clay of the pit itself. Native son of the inferno, born to restore and rule our dark domain.”

To your surprise, the good-looking blond from the Shores of Sorrow stepped forward, clad in a different outfit, one more suitable for Hell, and smiled at your sister. “Hello again.”

“Uh… hi?”

This Caliban explained that he intended to restore stability to the Nine Realms, and ultimately, conquer the Earth to make it the tenth circle. Unsurprisingly, your sister was simply not having it. She claimed the throne as her own, shut down Caliban’s refutation, and decreed that the Infernal Court be dismissed.

As Caliban turned to go, he locked eyes with you. With a small smirk, he stated, “It appears our paths will cross again, enchantress.” He left through the colossal double-doors of the throne room, and silence befell the room, before you all left, Nicholas Scratch in tow.

Upon returning to your room for the evening, you laid in bed, unable to sleep and staring at the ceiling. Although you attempted to steer your train of thought to more important matters, such as how to help the coven and what it would mean for Sabrina to be the Queen of Hell, you found your mind veering back the dashing young “prince.” Aside from the fact that he’s a demon, and that he sought to descend Earth to chaos and enslavement, he had challenged your sister – and that simply wouldn’t do. So, you conceded that you must push your unwelcome thoughts to the side, such as how his eyes made you feel vulnerable and on fire all at once, or how pretty that alluring voice of his would sound in the bedroom…. Hell help you, you were going to need to try much harder than this.

A sudden whooshing sound and a bright light brought your attention to the corner of the room, and as the vortex of fire dissipated, you saw none other than the object of your desires standing before you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Here to berate my baby sister some more?”

“No. I am here for you.”

You sat up in the bed, then swung your legs off the side, staring at him quizzically. You noticed that Caliban eyed your attire hungrily, and you briefly thanked yourself for choosing a red silk nightie with black lace trim this evening. Opting to bask in the feeling of him undressing you with his eyes, you stood and crossed your arms over your chest – both to show resolution, and to accentuate your chest. His gaze grew ever more ravenous.

“Speak your piece, then.”

“I wish to court you,” Caliban stated coolly, that smirk of his gracing his lips.

“And why is that?”

“You have piqued my interest. Your beauty is beyond compare, and your intelligence and self-assuredness are both endearing and intriguing. I am quite taken with you,” Caliban admitted, now perusing your bedroom and investigating your elaborate bookshelves. He then turned to you, and in a few strides, he was standing in front of you, towering over you as those enthralling green eyes seemingly bore into your soul.

“Allow me to court you. I vow to do my utmost to make you happy, and keep you unquestionably…” he trailed off, bending down to hover his lips mere centimeters above yours as he finished his sentence, “... satisfied.”

You did not miss the way your breath caught in your throat as a result of his actions – nor did Caliban. It caused his smirk to widen further. Nevertheless, you squared your shoulders and looked up at him with all the confidence you could muster.

“Stand down from your attempted coup d'état of Sabrina’s place on the throne, and I will gladly court you, Caliban.”

“Although my name falling so sweetly from your lips is enough to persuade me of almost anything, I’m afraid that I cannot comply with your request, princess,” Caliban responded. “But, if bartering is the ticket to courting you, then so be it. Even if I wanted to, it is impossible for me to stop the Plague Kings’ quest to unseat Sabrina Morningstar and Lilith, but I can let you in on how they plan to do so, which will allow your sister time to prepare for it. And if the Kings or Lilith ask, you didn’t hear a word of that from me.”

You pretended to mull it over for a moment. If you were being honest, it wasn’t exactly twisting your arm to go out with someone as mind-bogglingly attractive as Caliban, so having the opportunity to do so and help Sabrina certainly seemed to be a win-win.

“I agree to your terms.”

“Excellent,” he said, his smirk changing to a toothy grin, flashing a set of perfect pearly whites. He seemed genuinely thrilled that you agreed to court him. “You may inform Sabrina that the Kings intend to evaluate her progress as Queen of Hell for a short time, and if she fails to meet their expectations, they shall send she and I on a quest to find the Unholy Regalia. Whoever is the victor shall earn a rightful place on the throne, by infernal law. So, I would advise that Sabrina watch her p’s and q’s for the next few weeks, but still prepare for the inevitable quest for the Regalia.”

“Thank you, Caliban.”

“Anything for you,” he responded, taking your hand and placing a kiss upon your knuckles, as he had earlier that day, before cradling it in both of his hands. “Now, where would you like to go for our first outing, little dove?”

“I have heard rumors of a carnival coming to town this weekend. Take me?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Caliban said earnestly, then sat down languidly on the ornate velvet couch immediately behind him, and gently pulled you down to sit with him. “In the meantime, I would very much like to get to know you better, if it would please the lady.”

The remainder of the evening was spent on that very same couch, with the self-proclaimed Prince of Hell. The longer you talked, the closer you grew in proximity, until you were nestled against his side with your legs tucked underneath you, his arm draped around your shoulders. Caliban listened intently as you told him about your life, and he readily told you tales of his own past and answered all your questions. A large percentage of the conversation entailed you explaining earthly matters to the Hell-born gentleman, and he was genuinely interested in all the information you had to offer. It was incredibly refreshing for someone to be interested solely in you – not your father’s legacy.

After a while, your eyelids began to feel unbearably heavy, and eventually, you succumbed to sleep, your head falling onto his shoulder. As Caliban looked down at your sleeping figure, after sharing an invigorating, intimate night of soul-sharing, he vaguely wondered of the possibility of love for a man made of clay.

The warm, fuzzy feeling now forming in his chest was all the answer he needed.

Part II