#I accept whatever punishment you deem fit for this

[baggidude]

So what if it turns out symbiotes can survive on MALE JUICES so to keep the killing rate low Eddie becomes a manwhore? Like its not as good as brains but it MUCH better than what chocolate does.

[minnophee-writes]

His Judgement

A/N: Been in such a Dead by Daylight fixation that I don't think it can be stopped. Pyramid Daddy can smash, I don't care - don't @ me. It was a great crime that BHVR took his ass away from us! Also, I wrote this fic while listening to 'Insanely Illegal Cage Fight' by Dal Av + Jackson Rose. For some reason it gave Pyramid Head vibes. This isn't beta read so any grammar and/or spelling mistakes are my own.

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Pairings: Pyramid Head x Female Reader

Fic Warnings: Character death, blood, violence, betrayal, slight angst, blade / knife, death, dub-con touching, dub-con, smaller female / taller man, size difference, hair-pulling (brief), dark smut, injuries, mating press, long tongue action / tongue fucking (brief) / tongue deepthroating, claiming, breeding, squirting (brief), creampie, (🔞MDNI this fic is for ADULTS! Begone minors🔞)

Summary: When things go from bad to worse during a trial against the Executioner, Reader finds herself standing face-to-face with the large killer himself, ready to accept whatever judgement he deems fit to bestow upon her. However the situation doesn't seem to go as she suspected.

Word Count: 4,311 words

Taglist: @stygianoir

You grabbed onto the hips of Feng and dragged her off the hook, her groans of pain audiable but she tried to quieten them as you herded her behind a large rock to mend her wound. Blood oozed from the gaping hole in her right shoulder but you worked quickly to bandage the injure to slow, and hopefully, stop the blood. Feng nodded to you in thanks before you guided her toward the generator that you were working on before going to her aid.

The realm the entity chose for this trial just so happened to be the Midwich Elementary School, the home of one of the most terrifying killers in the entity's realm. It didn't help that the entity wanted to rub salt in the wound and have the killer actually be the Executioner, he was known to be ruthless during trials, showing no mercy, and defying the entity's rules by outright slaughtering people in these sick, twisted matches. Feng was able to run the large man but he managed to outplay her, ensnaring her within his trail of barbed wire - also known as his 'Trail of Torment'. You had taken shelter in a locker nearby when the Executioner placed her on the hook.

Rushing footsteps startled you and Feng, the sudden appearance of Yun-Jin Lee panting and breathing heavily should have been the first sign to let you know of the oncoming danger yet you and Feng continued working on the generator, now with the help of an anxious Yun-Jin Lee. Everything was quiet for a moment, the only sounds were the generator pistons powering up when you noticed Yun-Jin Lee glancing behind Feng for a few seconds before pushing Feng and running off in the posite direction. You stared after the suspicious woman in confusion and agitation when the sound of Feng's scream caught your attention. The looming figure of the hulking Executioner had pierced his heavy weapon into Feng's torso, the tip of the knife sunk deep in her stomach while her arms scrambled for purchase, rapid gasps left her lips and her eyes were wide in absolute fear.

Time seemed to operate in slow motion, your brain now just processing that Yun-Jin Lee sacraficed Feng to the killer to save herself and fled, leaving you to fend for yourself once he was done punishing Feng. Your heart lurched in sorrow and disappointment, more so disappointed in yourself for not having seen the large killer coming toward them, maybe you could've saved the poor woman - if only Yun-Jin Lee hadn't just selfishly pushed Feng toward her death.

Feng turned her head toward you as her arms weakened in strength, her eyes pleading for something that was not an option, something you couldn't give her. The Executioner yanked his knife from her body before driving it back in, a dark puddle of blood and barbed wires appeared around Feng and devoured her into the ground, taking her and leaving no evidence that she was ever there. Your heart skipped a beat, seeing someone you viewed as a close friend, due to being in many trials together and forming a bond, hurt you deep down and caused tears to slightly blur your vision. The scraping of metal on metal brought you back to the present and you're terrified eyes stared at the large killer a few feet from you, his triangular helmet looking in your direction - his helmet tilting slightly to the side as he seemed to glare you down.

In a sudden rush of adrenaline your body shot into action, you quickly spun around on your heels and sprinted in the last place you saw Yun-Jin Lee and prayed for the best. Your legs carrying you down a flight of stairs and turning down a long corridor, your lungs struggling to intake oxygen and vision slightly unfocusing from how hard you were pushing your body to work in running away from danger. By the time you had reached the end of the corridor you pressed your back against the steel wall and attempted to collect yourself. You didn't hear any heavy footsteps coming after you, and a timid glance down the direction you had just come from proved that the Executioner wasn't pursuing you. You seemed to be in the clear.

A breath of relief escaped your lips before a faint whistle caught your attention, your head turned to the right to see David waving you over into a classroom he was holed up in. You rushed over to him, glad to see a friendly, familiar face, and agreed to help him on his generator. You were tempted to tell David about what Yun-Jin Lee did to Feng, how she willingly sacraficed a teammate - a friend, to the killer and left you for dead just to save her own skin, but you thought against it. Your main concern and goal was to repair the generators so you could get the hell out. The elementary school chilled you to the bone, the disarray of everything in the school and classrooms - they they all left in a rush, almost as if they were quickly evacuated unerved you to no end. So your main motivation on completing your generator tasks were because some of the realms absolutely creeped you out. As the third piston started to pick up speed the woman that had caused you grief appeared in the doorway, making her way arogantly to the other side of the generator, acting as if she hadn't just betrayed a teammate.

An occasional spark would fly as the three of you worked on the gen, the progress slow but surely going, David giving quick glances at the only doorway in and out of the classroom. Your nerves were on alert for any sign of the Executioner, waiting for his sudden arrival and hoping to be able to distract the killer long enough for David to get out of dodge. Any creak or groan from the steel structure had your head turning behind you and toward the door in search for the large man but was greeted with nothing which only calmed your racing heart slightly. Your eyes took note of the vault window on the other side of the classroom which led into the other, a good escape route in case the killer were to appear and block the doorway. David must have seen you looking at it and gave you a subtle nod, acknowledging your find and piecing together two wires which completed the generator, the engine running smoothly now and the three of you made a slow approach to the window vault in the classroom. You were first in the line, then David, leaving Yun-Jin Lee to carry the back but as you neared the vault the loud, piercing sound of metal scraping across metal brought their attention to the classroom doorway.

The bloodied image of the Executioner almost seemed to freeze the trio, his shadow loomed and seemed to swallow the entire room before he then took thundering steps toward you. Yun-Jin Lee rushed passed you and David, shoving the both of you toward the killer while she vaulted the crumbled opening. David lost his footing and was tumbling right into the path of the Executioner when you quickly reacted, grabbing onto David's wide forearm and pulling him back, adrenaline giving you the strength to drag David over to the vault as the killer closed the distance between you.

"Go, David! Run!" You shouted before turning around to face the large man.

His knife was embedded in the ground leaving a trail of torment, cutting off one of the paths to getting out of the classroom. You didn't want to lead the killer in the direction of David so you chose to try and run around the Executioner's left side - the one unaffected by his torment. Just when he was within arms reach you bolted to his left and rushed passed, jumping over a small section of the unforgiving trail and making a mad dash down the hallway, the killer's heavy footsteps storming after you.

He was a man on a mission, only having eyes for you, and you were hoping he would lose track of you soon because your stamina was rapidly draining, but he seemed to always know where you were going. You've run through the bottom floor before attempting to lose chase upstairs, quickly turning corners before dipping into a random classroom and ducked behind an overturned table while you took the time to catch your breath. David slowly exited one of the many lockers that were lined against the wall and rushed over to you, a relieved expression painted on his face.

"Thank God you're okay! You're not hurt, right?" He then looked over your figure for any injuries.

"I'm fine, lets just focus on getting that last gen done." You got up and started to dust yourself off before looking David in the eyes with concern yet certainty after your second run-in with the untrustworthy woman, "Don't trust Yun-Jin Lee... She's the reason Feng is dead..."

"...Shit."

David looked shocked and opened his mouth to say something but the approaching march of the Executioner caused you two to run back over to the lockers and hide next to each other, hoping the beast of a man would just keep walking but those hopes were dashed away when his large figure stepped into the room. His helmet slowly scanned across the room in search for you, his eyeless gaze fell upon the lockers that you and David were hiding in, your breath hitched in anticipation. His steady stride carried him across the spacious room, your muscles growing more tense the closer he got to your lockers, when you noticed a little too late that the Executioner was looking at a different locker - the wrong locker.

The Executioner's thick arm shot out from beside his lent body and grasped the locker door and ripped it off its hinges, David's surprised shout ringing throughout the room as the larger man pulled him out of the locker, and placing him onto his wide shoulder. You bursted out of your locker and clung onto the killer's arm that seemed to put him off balance and dropping David. You grabbed David's hand and began to run away, a very angry killer hot on your heels. One of the hallways had a pallet in the middle that you knew you could use to block the Executioner and gain some distance so you made sure to head toward it, your feet carrying you faster while David kept pace and followed your every move. When the pallet was in sight a few feet away a smile started to grace your face for the first time that trial, but that all came crashing down when you noticed Yun-Jin Lee standing on the other side of the pallet, staring you dead in the face before tossing the pallet down and bolting around the corridor. Your feet stuttered for a split second before you decided that one of you were gonna have to vault the pallet first. You looked over your shoulder to see that the Executioner was a lot closer than you thought and was reeling his arm back to strike at David and your brain went into a panic.

"David, watch out!" You screamed as you pushed him ahead of you, the edge of the knife sliced into the outside of your bicep.

The flaming sting of the injury caused you to let out a squeal as you held onto your arm and made a run for the pallet, David waving encouragingly to you on the other side. Your staggered gait didn't get you far when a strong hand gripped a decent amount of your hair and pulled you back, dragging you into a warm, soild body, ripping another screamed from your lips. You heard David shout your name from where he stood before rushing back over the pallet to get to you.

"No! Let her go!" David readied up to throw a punch but the Executioner just thrust his knife upward.

The blade kissed David's skin, cutting through his button-up and exposed his chest which now displayed a deep, flowing wound from where the blade cut him. David winced and clutched his chest, a groan left his mouth as he looked back toward you. You were terrified, uncertain if anyone was going to survive, and it didn't help that the merciless killer had you in his hold and was readying up to strike David again - this time a killing blow. In a desperate attempt to save at least one of your friends this trial you decided to try begging and bargining. Right as the Executioner drew his arm back to deliever a deadily strike you clung onto the arm holding your body to his and began pleading.

"Wait, no, please!" You cried while squeezing your eyes shut, "I-I'll do anything, please... You can k-kill me right now if you want but spare him!"

You were rambling but you were hoping that the killer would at least pause long enough for David to make an escape. The Executioner slowly glared down at you through his large helmet, his head tilted in feigned thought before suddening swinging his arm overhead and implanted his knife into David's neck, blood spurted out everywhere, and his eyes bulged out while his gasps were wet and thick. Whimpers and whines left you as you watched the light fade from his eyes, his body steadily sinking to the floor before it slumped down and hit the floor with a thud. Before you could process anything you were then thrown against one of the steel walls and lifted a few feet of the ground by your throat, a large hand encased it and made it a struggle for you to take deep breaths. He stared you down while he watched you struggle to get out of his grip, his suffocating presence suddenly making you have flashes of some of the children drawings scattered around the school - some of the drawings depicted said killer in front of her, a name scribbled on top that made sense for a child; Pyramid Head. 'Seemed fitting for him', you thought brieftly.

Pyramid Head jabbed the knife into the floor next to you both before using his other hand to grope your body, using it to spread your leg to insert his hip between them and opening your legs wider. The position caused you to have to wrap your legs around his waist to try and lessen the pressure on your neck but he just placed his hand on your ass and held tight, hitching you up higher and pressed you between the wall and his solid body. A deep rumble spread from within his chest and a slick, slimy appendage timidly appeared from under the pulsing puss under the helmet before it confidently started to lick your face, covering your face in thick saliva. The tip slid across your lips a few times before forcing its way passed them, exploring your mouth and worming itself down your throat.

You let out a squeal in rejection but that didn't seem to do anything to the Executioner as he continued to thrust his tongue down your neck, sliding it back and forth, as if it got pleasure from it. His hips humped into your crotch which shot small waves of pleasure up your spine, strained moans escaped your lips while you tried to find where to place your hand before settling with clutching onto the arm that's holding you by the neck. He let go of your ass to ruck up his filthy apron to expose his pulsing cock, the tip red and leaking with pre-cum. You choked on his tongue in horror, trying to angle your hips away from him but he took that as some sort of invitation to shred your pants from your legs, your underwear disappearing with it while he rubbed his thumb against your folds in an attempt to get you wet and wanting. He retracted his tongue from your throat to then go down to your pussy, smearing his saliva over your vulva and clit, teasing your hole by probing it in exploration before plunging in deep.

You yipped from the wet intrusion of his tongue, you could feel it wriggling around inside - pushing against your spongy walls until it found your g-spot, your body eliciting a full-body spasm. Your mouth opened and closed from the onslaught of pleasure his tongue was giving you once he discovered your hidden spot deep within you, not even your toys could find it half the time and yet this large, brutal killer found it within seconds. It left you stunned more than anything else, your brain going fuzzy and all logical thought disappeared. His thumb pressed into your clit again which made you clench your pussy around his tongue, a moan left your throat at the pleasure flowing through your in waves, your body warming up from the growing arousal.

Your head flopped to the side as you let out a sigh, your eyes fluttered opened and your vision was then filled with David's cold corpse lying on the floor, his glazed eyes staring in your direction and your stomach squeezed - threatening to make you throw up any sustenence inside. You shut your eyes tightly before righting your head straight, a cool chill creeped up your spine at the mental image of your dead friend only a few inches away. Once you opened your eyes again you stared up at the helmet, hoping you were looking where his eyes may roughly be.

"Pyramind Head, please-" You managed to rasp out, "- I-I wanted you to spare him... why?"

Tears fell from your eyes and down your cheeks as you continued to look at him but you got no response, the only response you got was a deep, rumbling growl and his tongue thrusting in and out of you faster, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit rapidly as well. Your breath hitched and a loud, prolonged whine echoed around you both, your walls spasming before hot, white ecstasy burst through you - the tight knot that had quickly formed in your lower stomach suddenly snapped that caused you to drench Pyramid Head's lower sternum and tongue. A foamy, white ring surrounded the base of his appendage and smeared itself across it with each thrust, it drove him feral and the pulse in his cock couldn't be ignored anymore.

Pyramid Head thrusted his cock against your wet cunt, soaking his dick in your juices before attempting to align the tip with your twitching hole and as he steadily pushed in it stretched you in an impossibly delicious way. The moan you let out rang down the corridor but your attention wasn't on how loud you were being, your thoughts were on how big the Executioner was and how he may have ruined any other man for you and he wasn't even halfway in yet. He thrusted in a few more inches before the base of his cock was snug against your pelvis, his hips grinded on your swollen clit, your cunt clung to him from the stimulation. After giving you a brief moment to get adjusted to his cock he began to back his shaft from you before driving it back in with a deep, powerful thrust, punching noises and air from you. Each strong thrust loosened your legs from his waist and he decided to wrap his thick arms under them, he brought them up so that your ankles rested on his shoulders and the angle made it feel as though he was fucking into you deeper than before. Your nails dug into his biceps as he drilled into you, the wet sound of skin slapping skin and your meek moans were the only sounds that could be heard, his tongue hovered over your clit as a large glob of spit splattered onto it - his hips smeared and grinded it into your clit and your toes curled.

A silent scream left your lips as your pussy splashed the Executioner in your juices, your back arched sharply as the walls of your cunt throbbed intensely as it milked his cock. A rumbling groan vibrated inside his chest and his hips stuttered for a few thrusts before burying it deep within you, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix and thick, heavy ropes of cum coated your walls. His cock pulsed with each shot of cum and he gave a few small thrusts to fuck some of it into your cervix, laying claim over you by hoping to breed your fertile womb.

You let out a drawn out whine as you felt his cock slowly withdraw from your abused pussy, your gaping hole twitched as it tried to suck in the cum that slowly dripped out of it. Pyramid Head carefully set you onto the ground as he readjusted his apron, his hand grasped his weapon's handle before yanking his knife out of the floor. You lazily stared at the looming figure accepting your fate, knowing it was only going to last for so long before he killed you in painful ways only he can imagine. Your eyes closed as you waited for the final blow, hoping that he would be nice for once and show mercy with giving you a swift death yet none of that happened. You opened an eye to see what he was up to prior to opening your other eye to glance up at his still form.

A horrified gasp came from your left and you turned your head to see Yun-Jin Lee peeking around the corner, her hands covered her wide mouth and her eyes were almost popping out of her head, a disgusted and petrified looked was etched onto her features. Her eyes bore into your tired figure on the ground, too drained to even properly cover your exposed bottom when, faster than you had ever seen him move, Pyramid Head clutched a fist into the other woman's hair and threw her across the air, her body colided with the hard with a hard smack. Yun-Jin Lee yelped in distress and attempted to crawl away from him but he drove his knife into her calf, the blade sliced and shredded through her muscle and bone, and she let out a piercing scream that had you flinching away.

Yun-Jin Lee stared up at the Executioner with pleading eyes but they wouldn't reach him for he has already decided her fate. Lifting his blade high in the air he brought it down with fierce strength, swinging his weapon multiple times and created many deep, slash wounds - each one becoming more violent than the last. Pyramid Head slammed his blade across the forearm of Yun-Jin Lee, her right arm became detattched and slumped to the floor, while his foot crushed her mid-spine between him and the ground. Yun-Jin Lee was getting desperate and frantically thrashed around hoping to wiggle her way from under the intense judgement of the Executioner yet it was useless, he only put more of his heavy weight onto her spine and a cry of pain was torn from her. With two hands he raised his knife and, with the swiftest movement you've ever seen, he drove the blade into her back - a loud crack pierced through the air and a wet squelching could be heard when the knife sliced through Yun-Jin Lee.

The last of her breath escaped her dry lips before her body fell limp, her still figure stayed face down as Pyramid Head removes his weapon, from the now dead corpse, and turned his helmet toward you once again. A small feeling of dread shot through you for a split second but your brain was still foggy from the rough fucking he had given you just moments ago, and your limbs felt like they were made of lead - anytime you tried to move your arms or legs you were met with no response from your muscles. You watched as the Executioner walked over to your slumped body, examining your for a minute or two before he leant forward and wrapped an arm around you, lifting you from the ground and over his broad shoulder.

Pyramid Head started a steady gait toward one end of the corridor, his destination unknown, yet you weren't afraid of being hooked and being sacrificed to the Entity. He walked passed many hooks on his journey, your mind growing more and more confused while you watched one of the hooks fade around a corner as Pyramid Head continued on, his steps only speeding up once the howling, whimsical noise of the hatch could be heard. Pyramid Head turned quickly into a classroom, the hatch a few feet away from you both when he gently set you on your feet, his hand clutching onto your hips to steading you - and to grope you one last time. You warily glanced between the hatch and the Executioner, as if waiting for him to then crush your hopes of escape by beating you to the hatch and closing it, but he just stood there.

The Executioner subtly nodded over to the hatch, giving you a slight nudge toward it and you timidly made you way over to it. You looked back at Pyramid Head one last time and muttered a hushed thank you before disappearing into the hatch, the opening then slammed close and a black, smokey abyss surrounded the Executioner, teleporting him back into the killers realm. Somewhere in the back of his mind a faint voice promised him that within due time you'd be his, that you would become his pet and that was going to be his reward for being such a loyal being.

~~~~~~~

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this fic! Make sure to like and reblog this to let me know that you want more <3 Had heaps of fun writing this and hope to write another banger soon 😎

[kurosstuff]

Hey~

If you're writing for Sera..maybe could you write where she has to watch as Reader gets their wings ripped off and is casted down to hell?

<3

Oh of course lovely~

Also never wrote for her so I'm sorry if she's occ- SO ITLL BE SHORT♡♡

Warning(s) pure angst, kinda with like the Bible? A bit(cause of lucifer) but- not detailed

Heaven is a peaceful place.

No trouble. No sadness. Nothing of the sort. No negative things

No regrets.

So why does Sera feel this deep regret? This sickening feeling as she awaits the trial to begin. Must it be because of her own miss calculation? Frowning she watched as you were forced into the room. Forced on your knees bound in that gold chains as you stand trial for your traitorous behavior.

Which she deemed was also her fault. Letting you entertain such horrid thoughts. Of how the council was wrong. How heaven was cruel. Sera stood eyes once filled with love and warmth, now cold staring you down.

"You stand trial for questioning the lord above himself. How you questioned his authority. Blamed him for all the sinning below. " her throat felt dry from how cold she spoke to you. Her lover. Her mate, "Do you admit to these claims of being a traitorous angel?"

"Yes. I accept to all of it, " your voice rang out. Without hesitation. Without a drop of regret.. guilt. Sera frowned deeply, her emotions gone too much, the eyes on her wings popped out showing her true emotion.

The sadness in the eyes. How every pair watched you. Watched all your reactions, all eyes not cold. But filled with her true feelings. Her warmth for you. Her love for you. A hand touched her arm. Looking she saw Emily, who smiled sadly at her. Taking a deep breath, her wings folded once more. Eyes fully closed

She ignored the trial. Hearing the pleading. She ignored it all. The only thing she did was watch you. She knew the outcome. She knew what would happen. Closing her eyes, she sighed. This has all been done before. The same EXACT thing. The same thing your being accused of.

Of what you admitted to.

The first fallen angel. The King of hell. The one she herself failed to protect from the unpurity of the firsts. The unpurity of the growing world. Sera was more then aware mortals couldn't be without sin. Not with how a certain someone played a trick. A test of sorts with-

She sighed she won't focus on the past. How she failed. In the SAME exact way. Looking at you as you screamed, glaring, begging to be heard, she frowned deeply. Only one punishment would seem fit for this crime.

She didn't want to watch. But she must.

After all? How could she look away from her final sight of her mate? Taking a deep breath, she spoke for the first time ever. Interrupting you

"Only one punishment seems fit for the crime. You will be stripped of your title as a pure angel. You will be fallen"

Not even a second later, an executioner - was it Lute the rude inhumanely cruel angel? She wasn't sure not with those God forsaken masks. Watching her push you to the ground, the chains holding you in place as she struck. Slicing your wings off in a cruel fast motion. Yet so slow to Sera. A deep frown never left her face, never left as you begged for her to forgive you. Watching as the ground opened up swallowing you whole.

Welcoming you to your new home.

Closing her eyes, her hands clasped over one another, praying your fall was a peaceful one. That you'd forgive her. She new the council would over look this. After all.

Like Swans-? Angels mate for life. No matter what occurs to their mate. Even if they fell. That as cruel as it was. Sera couldn't help but be thankful for in.. a odd way she couldn't pinpoint. Turning, she left the courtroom noting Emily? Didn't follow- humming she must be grabbing your halo.

Silently, she walked. Where to? She wasn't sure - just going wherever her feet took her. Just whatever her feet took her. Blinking, she stopped.. was it raining? Her cheeks wet from something. Moving to touch her face, her lips quivered in sorrow. In her loss. Closing her eyes in a deep sigh.

Heaven doesn't rain

[quinloki]

Now you've got me thinking about Shsnks using you to keep Marco compliant. You're on the ship too, but treated well (for a captive) as long as Marco listens.

Ohhhhh I love this.

Cw: gods uh, coercion, imprisonment, yandere, non con, dub con, collaring, threats of violence, mdni, dark dark content.

>.>

Shanks had mentioned you, at the start, if Marco was good he’d keep you safe. Nothing would harm you. To be good Marco had to just accept things, not try to run or anything like that.

He agreed, and he tried, but missing you was a terrible pain all it’s own, and he couldn’t release the desire to run from Shanks, not entirely. His mind wandering to you and the memories he was already fearing would fade, even when the red-head was showing him the sweetest of pleasures.

One day Shanks wakes him up, gently with a wide warm smile on his face.

“Wear the bracelet,” he says, honeyed words smoothing over Marco’s morning confusion. “We’ll take the collar off and go out on deck.”

Time outside was a rare treat, but Marco didn’t question it. Slipping on the sea stone bracelet, he sat up and let Shanks remove the collar. Care was taken to keep it from marring his skin, but in the event it did Shanks would grant him a second without any sea stone at all - not that a chance for escape was included in that.

Shanks has Marco walk ahead of him, opening the door to the hall that led outside. Marco didn’t reach for doors unprompted, even in the short time comparatively that he’d been a “guest” on Shanks’ ship. He’d lost a hand that way, even if only temporarily.

The door to the deck is opened and the warmth of the sun on Marco’s face isn’t enough to soothe the terror in his stomach.

You’re new the bow of the ship, laugh carrying on the wind as Limejuice and Yassop regale you with whatever stories they deem fit. He can’t even muster rage, fear takes hold too harshly with Shanks’ hand on his arm.

“They’ll be safer here than on that island. Without you there marines and pirates alike could end up doing all manner of nefarious things and I… simply couldn’t bear the thought of that.”

His lies are so sweet, but Marco knows better. Knows Shanks caught on, knows that his feelings toward you hadn’t waned. Knew that he was desperate to find a way back to you.

Shanks pulls the bracelet off Marco’s wrist smiling up at him. He didn’t need to limit Marco directly anymore. The truth of the words didn’t even need to be spoken.

Marco couldn’t heal others the way he could himself, the healing power of the Phoenix was much less when extending beyond his own self.

“Despite what you might think, I don’t have any issues sharing. Especially with how much they mean to you.” Shanks explains, and there’s no layer of deception. “With time they might even become just as important to me, eh? So let’s all get along.”

And maybe it goes smooth for a while.

Maybe it’s not so bad.

Shanks makes sure the island is safe.

Marco gets to see you and spend time with you, and you have your own cabin for the two of you. The crew is so nice to you, but you know something is wrong. Marco can’t hide it from you, you two know one another far too well.

You piece the puzzle together yourself, and also the dilemma, because Shanks’ observation haki is terrifying in its capacity. There’s no way to safely plan between yourselves. You can’t even plan in your own mind because solidifying your choices could telegraph them.

But realization alone is enough, and the shift is enough to break the fantasy, and one night the rules are set for both of you.

Bound beneath him, you and Marco are both collared, a short lead connecting your collars. Your beloved is buried deep inside of you, but it’s Shanks who is thrusting into Marco, controlling you both.

You comfort, your pleasure, your pain, it’s all his to give or withhold. Harm will never befall whoever defies him, he will always punish the other, and how severe will be only for him to know. His limbs will regrow, but the agony could last hours before Shanks lets him heal.

And you? He doesn’t need you to be anything but alive, and there’s not much you need to fill that definition.

But oh your cries are sweet, oh so sweet, and he’d rather give you both pleasure and comfort, more than anything else. So be sure to behave, and don’t test his convictions.

[furious-haste-of-malice]

❝ I want you, Námo. I have wanted you for a while. ❞

⊱ Prompt: Blackmail, obsession ⊱ Pairing: Manwë x Námo ⊱ Synopsis: After Námo disobeys an order from his king, Manwë forces him to make it up to him. ⊱ Warnings: Creepy Manwë, power dynamics, sexual content, non-con, the prompt in itself

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: Another one for @tolkienpinupcalendar's Dead Dove December and yes, I will be working on these for quite a while longer. Nevertheless: Enjoy!

"Please forgive me, my king." 

Námo was kneeling in the chambers of his lord, head bowed in dutiful penitence. He was as aware as the Vala in front of him that his refusal to speak when he was bidden was a grievous offence to the Elder King's authority, even though he believed it had been necessary to adhere to the divine ordinance he had been given at the beginning of his existence – to never reveal more than what was needed. 

Nevertheless, his being was bound to lawfulness, and he would accept punishment if his lord and his father deemed it necessary. 

Manwë looked as holy and glorious as ever, even seated on his bed instead of his throne. His usual smile had faded, replaced by a sorrowful mien, and the deep sigh that fell from his lips sent a small breeze through the air surrounding them. 

"Worry not, dear Námo. I shall surely forgive you, but I am afraid you will need to make it up to me." 

Despite the perfectly serene and innocent tone, Námo felt a sense of unease, sending shivers down his spine. 

"Anything that is within my power, my king," he said carefully. 

"Very well. Rise." Manwë held out his hand, though it was a gesture of silent command instead of an invitation to take it. 

Námo did as he had been told. Perhaps his obedience could help him atone for his sin, he thought, but then he was caught off-guard when Manwë rose as well and delivered three swift, decisive strikes, the gleam of silvery talons being his only warning – the first one tore off his veil, the second discarded his hood and the third undid the sash holding his robes in place. 

A small gasp escaped Námo as his form was revealed to the eyes of his lord, and he saw delight blossoming within the depths of his blue eyes. 

"Get on the bed." 

"M-my king –"

"Now." 

There was something rough and firm within Manwë's voice, something that was usually absent, that many thought him incapable of. Námo's fána trembled when he obeyed once more, leaving him exposed and prone in front of a Vala he had always trusted – until now that he saw his eyes glint like those of a raptor spotting prey in the grass. 

"What do you want from me?" he managed to ask, attempting to suppress his fear when Manwë climbed on top of him with such natural ease – 

As if we were lovers...

"Is it not obvious?" Manwë smiled at him, as kind and sweet as he had always done, but the dangerous gleam in his eyes hadn't vanished. "I want you, Námo. I have wanted you for a while."

Too stunned to speak, Námo could only stare at him as he lovingly cupped his cheeks. 

"You are so beautiful," Manwë sighed. "And now you will finally be mine." 

Námo stopped breathing when he was drawn into a kiss so tender it almost made him forget that it was forced, and his own lips remained stiff and unmoving. He still couldn't believe that he was being subjected to a punishment of carnal nature, at the hands of his pure, benevolent king no less. 

Manwë withdrew after a few fruitless attempts, seeming upset. "You don't wish to kiss me?" 

"Please, my king... n-not this..." Námo attempted to plead, but was ignored. 

"If you continue to be disobedient I can no longer be patient with you. Your punishment is whatever I deem fit, and if I want to make you mine and show you where you belong, then this is what shall be done." 

Talons dug into his sides as Manwë forced him to turn around and slipped his robes off his shoulders, tearing any remaining clothes to shreds. Námo was left lying on his stomach, held down by a Vala greater than himself. A still-clothed groin was pressed against his exposed backside, and he felt flesh hardening against him. 

"Since you have cheated me out of a prophecy, I hope you at least haven't cheated me out of being your first," Manwë whispered in his ear. 

Námo remained silent. He didn't wish to recount the ways in which his wife had made love to him and how they pleasured each other, and his mind struggled to comprehend the depths of the twisted lust his lord had suddenly revealed. How long had he desired him? Why did he believe he had a right to claim him? 

Yet there was no time to ask himself such questions when two hands spread his legs first and then his cheeks, and he heard the sound of a bottle being uncorked, followed by the scent of vanilla and the sensation of liquid being poured onto his skin. 

He prayed that those talons wouldn't be forced inside him, even if that meant he would be taken without further preparation; it was going to hurt, but repairing his flesh would be easier this way. 

It was only then that Námo briefly considered fighting back, yet any spark of resistance was swiftly drowned out by the knowledge that his king was mightier than he, greater in power and stature. Something inside him had given up before the thought had even crossed his mind; perhaps he already knew that it was going to happen regardless. 

Námo buried his head in the nearest pillow when he heard the rustling of fabric and attempted to muffle his cries of pain as Manwë forced himself inside. He had to will his fána to relax and open up, even as it felt like he was betraying himself and his objective of enduring this violation with as much dignity as he could. 

"You feel so good." 

"You are so beautiful." 

"You sound lovely when you cry and moan for me." 

Manwë whispered sweet nothings in his ear while taking him, but Námo refused to break his self-imposed silence. This was neither love nor pleasure, it was punishment just as his lord had said, and he would not think of it otherwise for the sake of his own sanity. He received no touch and no true affection, only the empty words of one whose mind had been tainted by greed and obsession. 

"Say my name." 

Manwë's command seemed to permeate the very air Námo was breathing, but he refused; he did not desire this, and he would not pretend to. 

Taloned fingers closed around his neck. "I commanded you to say my name."

He remained silent. Manwë's grip tightened, making it nigh impossible to breathe, and despite knowing that he couldn't be slain, panic flooded his fána – as well as the realisation that his torment might only continue if he kept refusing. 

Hesitant and in a broken voice, Námo at last obeyed his lord's command. 

"M-man... wë..." 

The whisper of his name and the choked noises he made sent a shudder of pleasure through Manwë's entire fána, and he spilled his seed inside his unwilling lover, withdrawing only after every last drop had left him. 

Námo felt the need to curl up on his side, make himself small and disappear, but before he could move he was turned around to lie on his back once again. 

Manwë looked down at him with a perfectly angelic smile, as if nothing had happened, and planted a chaste kiss on his forehead. 

"You are forgiven." 

Thanks for reading! ♡

[gojoidyll]

A continuation of Sukuna x Tattoo Artist ! Reader, the first part can be read here !!

Warnings include | +18 content, smut, oral (male receiving), grammatical errors, etc.

!! mdni !!

"Cause something tells me you never tattooed a dick before."

You were willing to accept the challenge. ...especially considering that you have been harboring a major crush on the man the moment you first gave him a tattoo.

Your knees were shaky as you knelt to the floor. What he said was true, you never actually seen a dick before.

And now what? Were you actually going to suck this guy off? He was a customer. Some bad boy who frequently came in to get a new tattoo once a week.

Well, whatever. You liked him. You like him a lot in fact. And, in your mind, if this got you closer to the man, then you were willing to do this. Besides, you actually wanted this anyway.

"And since I bet you never seen a dick before," he beckoned you forward. Your hands rested on his thighs as his belt fell to the floor, "I think it'll be a good idea for you to get well acquainted with the canvas you'll be inking? Don't you think so too?"

You nodded and swallowd any fear within yourself as you shakingly went for the waistband of his pants. Your fingers nimbly undoing the button and pulling down the zipper. Your hand gently ghosting over a large bulge as you pulled his jeans down.

"Come on now, don't be scared, or do you want me to take my business elsewhere?"

You managed to calm yourself significantly at that. The need to keep him here gradually rising as you pulled his underwear down next. His dick finally being free as it slapped against his abdomen. Heavy, hard, and his tip an angry red and already leaking pre. The sight made you shudder and you couldn't help but to wonder if you could even fit your your whole hand around it. Probably not...

Steadying yourself once more, your reached forward. Your hand gently grasping it. Fingers touching and lightly running up and down his hard length.

It was scary, but you had to admit that it looked good.

You placed your other hand against his thigh and leaned forward. Your lips pressing a gentle kiss upon the tip, his precum leaking a bit and dribbling down your glossy, puckered lips. And you couldn't help but be content with the small, sharp intake of breath he took. His body shuddering at your ministrations.

Then, opening your mouth a bit, you poked your tongue out and gave his raging cockhead a few kitten licks. The soft strokes of your tongue making him grip the leather seat hard as he tried his best not to grab a fistful of your hair and shove his dick down your throat. His manners may be bad, but didn't exactly want to treat you like a whore that he would just toss aside the next day. You were his beloved tattoo artist after all.

"Your mouth," he managed to utter out, "take in your mouth, and if you even think of using those teeth, then I will punish you."

An empty threat. He would never hurt you. Not that you needed to know that.

Obeying his command a moment later, you opened up. Your tongue lulling out fully to help slick up his length as you took him inch by inch. And seeing you struggle finally made him move his own hand. His finger lightly tangling into your hair as he helped push you down as lightly as possible. He wasn't known for his gentleness, but it was as he had thought before. Hurting you wasn't exactly what he wanted. Nah, he just wanted you.

"Wrap your hand around the part you can't reach," he ordered to which you obliged, and as he let your mouth adjust, your drool pooling at the corners of your mouth as you looked up at him. Small, soft tears decorating your eyelashes.

Ah, fuck. So fucking pretty.

Deeming you ready, he started to push and pull. You head bobbing up and down as he used your mouth for his pleasure.

"Keep your eyes on me."

And he kept that same slow pace whilst keeping you on your knees for a long period of time as he enjoyed what your pretty mouth had to offer.

Yeah, let's just say he didn't actually want a dick tattoo at all. As he originally planned, he just wanted you. Only you. Be it on your knees. On his lap. Or anywhere else. He would have you.

[kedsandtubesocks]

Happy ‘bakugou birthday party’ day to all of us celebrating 💥♡ Katsuki Bakugou you absolute gremlin thanks for taking over my life lmaooo mainly this is my thank you gift to the shining stars in my life @the-wild-wolves-around-you @ofmermaidstories @willowser for letting me ramble on and on about this ridiculously obscure but near and dear to my heart mandalorian AU

(oh mandalorian bakugou how I love to hurt you)

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚‧͙⁺˚*･༓☽ ☾ ༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

“When did you realize you were in love with the Jedi?” Yui Kodai is a quiet woman.

Kirishima had joked on the day the arranged marriage was announced she would be the perfect opposite to mellow him out. Instead Bakugou found he couldn't warn up to her icy tempered distance. Hell, he even forgot Kodai was in the training class opposite to his when they were kids. Damn Kirishima had to remind him.

Now in her sleek almost pristine bright crimson and white mandalorian armor, Kodai is the prime example of a mandalorian’s dream. But she’s not his.

Bakugou is the quiet one now and doesn’t respond to her. The truth, the answer, to Kodai’s questions feels so heavy even after everything that’s happened these past few days.

“You can’t deny it.” Kodai presses firmer and he knows she is right.

After all, Bakugou had ran off in front of her to you.

“I’m being relocated back to Coruscant.” You had told him two days before. “I…so I originally wasn’t suppose to be here. I had switched my first assignment location with a friend of mine and apparently the council found out. Guess it finally caught up to me.” You weakly laughed but it did nothing to lighten the awful thickness suffocating the air.

“I’m sure you’re excited that I won’t be bothering you anymore.” Even with the heavy revelation, you still had continued to tease but it was hollow as hell.

He had so many questions, wanted to say so much, needed to.

“.…yeah whatever.” But that was the only thing, the last thing, he said to you. Nothing else.

You returned to Coruscant without another word or even goodbye to him.

So Bakugou accepted that was the end. Your return back was the final sign for him to extinguish the fire roaring inside for you.

Then the damn Jedi temple gets attacked.

Bakugou, as a decorated war hero, as a mandalorian warrior, is a man forged and consecrated in victory. He scoffs at fear because he has faced it numerous times in bloodstained beskar and won. But when the data pad projected a fiery chaos erupting at the temple, pure terror consumed him. Bakugou simply moved like a man possessed. He even snarled to fight any of his comrades who dared stand in his way. He could not lose you.

So Bakuguo flew to you with no hesitation. And Yui Kodai, his intended, simply watched in silent judgment.

Now in the stillness of his home Bakugou feels the weight of this reality settling between them. He still hasn’t even answer Kodai’s question and he knows he needs to. She deserves the truth.

“Guess I can’t pin point when.” Bakugou finally admits, can’t even fully turn his helmet towards her. “Felt like maybe it was always just there. Just took me too long to catch up.”

He tried ignoring the aggravating frustration he felt towards you. He bared his teeth at it and tried to fight with his whole might. But that aggravation was simply tender adoration, a blooming love. It has always been there. You have always been there and will always be there. You are now apart of him, just as integral as his beskar armor. You might even be the strongest piece of him.

“I can’t go through with this, with us.” Bakugou tells Kodai. “I’m sorry, about all of it.”

He would take any penalties or punishments his people deem fit. He would accept ‘em with honor because for you, he’d do it all. He’d hold the weight of his love for you and bare it without waver. This whole situation is still shit though. It’s why he does mean his apology. Kodai is a good warrior, doesn’t deserve any disgrace.

She remains quiet and Bakugou fucking fidgets uncomfortable as hell under her damn composed silent stare.

“Well?” He snaps anxious at her lack of anger. “You gonna fucking yell at me? Call me a damn bastard or some other awful shit? Cause you can.”

Kodai again takes a moment and allows no words to fill his home.

“I am not going to yell at you or call you any names.” Her collected voice is chilling as it snaps his spine straight.

“We both went into this arrangement for the benefit of the other clans. I held no true affection for you and I figured you held none for me either.” Her dull direct tone slices through him sharp.

“I know many will disapprove of this. But I am not upset. I’ll hold no bitterness towards you or your Jedi. I am and always will be Mandalorian. That is all that matters.”

This is the most he’s ever heard her talk. Shit she didn’t even say this much when they got engaged. And for the first time he finally catches it - her true emotion, her quiet dignified conviction evident in her voice.

Bakugou can only nod but the underlying truth is there. She just told him ‘I was strong before you and I will be strong after you.’

Kodai moves to leave before he can even respond. Bakugou rises to see her out until Kodai’s sleek helmet whips back at him. He freezes. Won’t admit it but he is spooked when her helmet turns towards him.

“Be well Bakugou.” She bids him a simple, even kind, farewell. The door slides open and Kodai leaves with her words lingering behind her.

Bakugou sighs exhausted and thinks it rattles his bones. “Fucking hell.”

Yeah he still has so much to deal with, especially with the elders and other clans. But this with Kodai? He’s grateful it’s officially done. He’s also grateful to her. Kodai handled the situation way better than he would have and it’s why she earned his respect tenfold. Because if he saw you running off to someone else-

A wave of jealousy, so sticky and bitter, leaks into his heart at just the damn thought of a hypothetical rival and Bakugou wants to slam his bare face into a wall. This is what you have done to him - shaved him down to a lovesick man who would rip open a planet’s core for you.

With a final sigh, Bakugou heads to his bedroom. Quietly he slides past the door’s cover.

There in the comfort of his bed you continue to sleep soundly.

The medical bacta patches on your arm and shoulder are thankfully healing swiftly. Your face however still hasn’t regained its full bright energy back. He knew the medication would keep you asleep for a few days and as long as it takes, he will wait. He would wait decades for you because he already has been. But stars, he just wants you to open your eyes.

In the soft carved out space of his room, Bakugou slips off his helmet. He removes it off so easy and without reservation. It surprises him how certain he feels without it on.

The lanterns built in his room’s walls cast a gentle amber glow. As he finally stares at you without his helmet, a damn new star, a new galaxy, is born bursting right in his chest. You’re beautiful, so damn amazing, and he can’t believe he almost lost you.

Bakugou ran screaming your name into the chaos of the temple. He searched and searched without waver until he was victorious. Until there you were, lightsaber in hand landing a final swing to a trooper. Your shoulder was soaked in blood. When your face flipped towards him, your eyes wide and alive, air filled his lungs.

He doesn’t know who ran first. All that mattered was the beautiful collision of you and him meeting in the middle. His hands and your hands clutched and grasped desperate to solidify the other was real.

“What are you doing here?!” Your voice cracked as you yelled exhausted and on the edge of tears.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. In the heat of battle, with destruction swirling, all Bakugou could do was clutch your face in his hands. You, his fierce fighter, his ridiculous shitty Jedi, were alive.

“Had to make sure you were safe.” He told you so surprisingly low in the middle of the destruction. He hoped you maybe had not hear him or the terror in him that was barely settling down now.

“You shouldn’t be here!” You instead screamed at him with more desperation and fear.

“No way! ‘m not fucking leaving!” Bakugou barked back loud. “I’m staying right here! By your side!”

His voice snapped convicted and your face fell.

Before you could yell anything back at him, Bakugou rapidly pressed his helmet covered forehead against yours.

It only took you a moment to realize what he had done. Because just as fast your hand flew to the side of his helmet. Then the pressure, the weight, of your forehead pressed back firmly against his.

A sacred kiss shared between his kind was shared between you and him right in the halls of the Jedi temple under siege.

If this was his way to a warrior’s death, then he would gladly greet it by your side protecting you ‘till the end.

Now with soft steps Bakugou leaves the memory and arrives to the side of his bed. He starts to lean his forehead down towards yours. But, he stops, swallowing back something thick. He wants to. Shit, he’s done this before with his helmet on.

But once his eyes flicker to your sleeping face, your voice suddenly chimes into his mind.

“Not yet…just be a bit more patient okay? Wait for me.”

You speak so clearly, as if you had suddenly opened your eyes, woke up, and started talking. He hears your smile, even clearly pictures the way it warmly crinkles your eyes.

Bakugou fully doesn’t believe in the force, definitely doesn’t believe in any other mystical type shit. He just believes in you.

So Bakugou slips his helmet back on. Without hesitation he presses his forehead delicate and light against the top of your head. His eyes squeeze close tight as the tears string.

For a split moment, he thinks about Kodai. He knows that even if he had gotten to know her, maybe even witnessed more of the fierce composed dignity he saw earlier, she would never be you.

You are the only one he wants to speak the sacred vows with.

That’s why he knows. Bakugou knows it will be worth it when he fully gets to experience you and you freely see him.

The next time he removes his helmet Bakugou knows it will be at the wedding ceremony when he ties his existence to yours.

“Yeah alright I’ll wait, you hear me? I’ll wait as long as you need. Just… just please, wake up soon my damn shitty Jedi.” Bakugou whispers and it is the closest thing to a prayer he will ever say.

[felikatze]

every potential for morgan's backstory is so fucked up in different ways.

the way they only remember robin. that has to be on purpose, right? because robin's our other amnesiac of the game, and that one was an accident. they remember nothing.

and yet robin's very memory loss confirms grima's power can erase memories. what does this mean for morgan.

add in grima's last words in future past, the world morgan is from....

it's obvious fp robin changed. we can tell as much from fp robin's, well, everything, but also from morgan's dialogue.

"But I cannot strike down the kind and gentle parent I once knew... Forgive me, Master Grima. I must withdraw... I remain your servant and am ready to accept any punishment you see fit."

'I once knew' implies that Grima isn't kind and gentle anymore. Yet Morgan still recognizes Grima as their parent, without doubt. And even then, if Morgan kept all their memories of Robin, then why not these memories, too?

"...At last...I can rest... ...No one else...will suffer... ...because of me... ...Thank...you... ...I hope your lives are...filled... ...with...joy... ...... ...... ...Morgan...please forgive me... ...I put you through...so...much..."

From one line alone, it's obvious that Morgan's remaining love for Robin is reciprocated, no matter how twisted Robin has become. So. This is a world where either no time travel exists, or Lucina failed to change the past. Either way, the future Shepherds have no reason to return to the past, or no means to. After all, Naga is dead.

The only entity left with the power and reason to travel through time is Robin.

We have two options here.

1. After failing to kill player Robin, Morgan fled to the past.

Presuming somebody erased Morgan's memory on purpose, which I presume because of the specificity of their amnesia, Morgan did it themself here. And they intentionally left in memories of the kind and gentle parent, because that's what they wanted to remember. Even if they said they were willing to kill their friends and forsake everything for Grima, it becomes obvious rather quickly that there are some lines they're not willing to cross.

In this case, they wanted to forget that pain and conflict, of choosing between sides, and opted to cherry pick the best of both.

The version I believe in more strongly, though there's concrete evidence for neither, is option 2.

2. Grima erased Morgan's memory and sent them back in time after they failed to kill the future Shepherds.

After all, if Morgan says they're willing to accept whatever punishment Grima deems fit, why would they run away? And why would they be absent from the final confrontation between Grima and the Shepherds if Robin entering the battlefield at all made them worry?

Fp Grima is. A lot. But as said before, they still loved Morgan- even if they did not express it properly. Even if they were more master and servant than parent and child, in their final moments, Grima wanted Morgan to be happy. To forgive Grima for all the suffering they've put Morgan through.

If Grima saw Morgan's conflict when they returned to report their failure, there's an easy out Morgan could give them- send them to a time where they won't have to choose at all. And if Morgan's memories are erased, they will carry no guilt for a failure Grima doesn't fault them for.

Except... if you've seen me talk about Grima, you know a trait I like to play up. Their desire for Robin to be remembered fondly. Why else hide their face from Lucina and Co in FP? Why else give Robin the option to die a matyr in Awakening? And, why else erase Morgan's memories of Grima, but leave everything about Robin intact?

i just. they loved each other, despite everything. despite the apocalypse. except it's hard to raise a child when you've gone mad with grief and power. both of them remember the good times, and try to play a facsimile of family. but it doesn't work. it's harmful and broken. it was good, once.

man. fucking. grima still loved morgan, okay. despite everything. they still loved their kid. and sometimes loving someone means letting go.

[ask-healthy-light]

Nox now was hopeful her cousin would be more forgiving after she still felt worried and somewhat guilty for all the trouble she had caused with her plan.

She then walked up to Shining armor ears drooped as she began to apologize for all the trouble she caused for him and Cadence.

She then lowered her head as she said

"I will accept any punishment if you deem It necessary"

Without skipping a beat, Shining Armour gently placed his hoof on Nox's arm, and asked her to stand upright again, speaking calmly and quietly to the Dragon-Pony, who felt nervous about the judgement she figured he would give; but the kindness she heard in the voice of the Lord of the Empire before her confused her too, and she looked up with tears in her eyes as her heart started to beat faster.

Outside of her field of view, as the group silently watched on, Eclipse and Celestia slowly stepped towards the two, just in case, until a gentle smile grew on Shining's face, and he lowered his head to meet Nox at eye height; but although Nox felt more at ease when she saw the caring expression on his face, she looked away, and told Shining that she would accept whatever judgement he deemed fit.

But as he looked around at the others in the Hall, and saw Celestia and Eclipse standing only a few hooves away, Shining merely sat down as he took her paw in his hooves; and he quietly told Nox that even though he did not agree to her actions, nor those of the group, since it could have ended more disastrously, knowing how he and Lady Cadance had acted towards her and her friends, he understood.

As Nox looked back at Shining in utter confusion, as he looked over her shoulder to nod to Eclipse, he admitted that he knew there were not many ways she could have helped her friends, due to his and Cadance's measures, for which he apologised; and although he had hoped she had not resorted to such drastic measures of her own, if there was nothing left to do harm, there was no use for punishment.

Too well did Shining remember Nox's heartbreaking reaction to his horrible response when he saw her true form for the first time, but when he saw a smile slowly grow upon her teary face, he could not help but smile as well; and he opened his arms to offer her a hug, but Nox dove into his embrace at great speed before he even managed to utter a single word, and held him close as she quietly cried.

Even though nobody, not even Shining himself, knew how Cadance would react to his judgement, he was just glad to know that everyone was safe, especially Eclipse, to whom he had not yet apologised for his and Cadance's coldness; but for now, since he was fully focused on consoling Nox, only when she let go of him would he tell them about the terrible danger that awaited them outside of the Empire.

Back in the Upper Hall, Luna had just finished weeping over her re-emerging memories, but her tears started to flow again when Nox deeply embraced Shining Armour, and even though she knew these tears were not evil in nature, she had to sit down again; and as soon as she did, the Pink Pup trotted to her side, where It started to wag Its tail, and bark excitedly, as if It knew how Luna was feeling.

The smile on Luna's face could not grow any brighter, so she just started to laugh as the Pup leapt into her lap, and tried to lick her face, until she got up from the ground, and cleaned her face of the countless tears of joy she shed; and when her face was dry again, she looked through the little Pup's worn bag, knowing too well who it truly belonged to, and laid out the documents on the table.

Fortunately, it did not take Luna very long to remember that Star was still downstairs in the Hall, with everybody else, as well as the pure crystal in the bracelet, so she took a step back, and used her magic to her heart's content; and mere seconds later, everything that was in the bag was neatly sorted and organised, and she even mended the old maps and documents that had been torn and folded.

Many of the maps on the table were aeons old, and crudely drawn, loosely depicting Equestria before she and her Sister rose to the thrones, whereas others were of areas within the land documented but a hoofful of times throughout the ages; but as Luna gently pet the little Pup's head, and said that the maps were too old to be useful, the Pink Pup barked, startling Luna, and jumped onto the table.

After It had swiped aside the older maps, It pointed to one note in particular with Its paw…

(Thanks for reading! And if you enjoyed, please reblog! Thanks in advance!)

Send an ask or request! | Start at the beginning! | Next part!

Featuring: Nox Lunarwing from @nox-lunarwing Solar Eclipse and Twilight Sparkle as Twilight Eclipse from @asktwilighteclipse

[overlyimmersed]

The Fairy Bard's Harp

‼️THIS FIC IS NO LONGER COMPLIANT WITH THE CANON OF THIS AU‼️

"After the whole ordeal with Gowther’s memories, as everyone is calming down at sunset, Maranwe comments that she wishes she knew where her harp was. Helbram pipes up saying he knows where it is. It’s among Helbram’s things from when he was posing as a holy knight. The group goes to get it. This allows Maranwe’s first encounter with Hendrickson..." "...Maranwe makes no attempts to hide her disdain for the human, having been told about what he’d done to Helbram..." "Finally she gives her attention to her harp. An intricate, handheld lyre with a nighttime color scheme and adorned with moonflowers. She trailed her fingers over the strings and they produced a lovely sound, which momentarily distracted everyone from the fact that Maranwe was now using it as a bow, pointing a magic arrow at Hendrickson. And, for the first time, she speaks directly to him..."

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't shoot you." The fairy growls, soft and cold like footsteps through deep snow.

Hendrickson hesitates, stunned by the sudden threat, but the shock quick ebbs out of him and a resigned guilt overtakes his features.

"I can't." he says. Regret pours from his words, spoken no louder then hers had been, "I have no excuse for what I did, and I deserve whatever punishment you deem fitting. If shooting me will ease even a fraction of the pain I've cause, then do it."

She grits her teeth, grinding them in irritation, but her arms tremble slightly as she hesitates. Does he really think that's what this is about? Her feelings?! As if she could ever feel any better about all of this, no matter how many humans she might shoot! As if revenge would mend anything! It's not about payback! She's not threatening him because she wants to feel better! It's just because he deserves it! Because he caused suffering and harm! It's justice! Not some petty solace.

Her hesitancy gives Helbram the opportunity to intervene. He places his hand over hers, the one holding the bow rather then the string, hoping to encourage her to lower the weapon.

"It wasn't all his fault, y'know." he says gently, looking at her eyes, though hers are still fixated on her target. "He was being controlled by a demon. Besides, there are better ways to use that pretty harp. It's been a while since I've hear your music, why don't you play a little?"

She fails to respond at first, letting his request hang in the tense air for a moment. When she shift her gaze to him, her eyes fill with a pain that nearly makes Helbram flinch. After a few second of holding his gaze, she resigns and lowers her weapon, letting the string relax back into place and the arrow dissipate.

Helbram musters a smile for her, and leads Maranwe to the nearest chair. She sits and her muscles easily fall into old habits, pulling the lyre up into the correct position. She begins to play, her fingers gliding across the string with practiced deftness creating an unexpectedly complex melody. The sound fills the room, beautiful and lulling, if not a bit somber, and everyone present is entranced.

Once the final note fades, there's only a second's silence before Helbram starts clapping delightedly, the sound having the same illusory, echoing quality that his voice does, "That was great!"

Maranwe scoffs at the praise and rolls her eyes.

"It was." Harlequin agrees, wearing a bitter-sweet smile, "I've really missed hearing you play."

Several of the others join in, adding their own compliments. Maranwe accept them quietly, only blushing and smiling softly.

[simplygasimmer]

Vlad: "Please let me be rid of her!"

Elisabeth: "Please forgive my outburst my Lord. I did not recognize

you at first. I will accept whatever punishment you deem fit."

Vladislaus: " Your outburst is forgiven. My awakening was not expected. I may be "dusty" as you put it, but make no mistake, I could rip your heart out faster than you can blink. I sense deceit and ambitious intent within you. I also sense regret..."

Vlad:" Grandfather, the sun has set. It's time to feed. I must warn you, a lot has changed. So allow me to show you how things are done now. "

[asterigos]

𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇. 𝟐𝟗. 𝐒𝐇𝐄/𝐇𝐄𝐑. 𝐄𝐒𝐓.

Tired and I’m not super speedy with replies. Please be sure to read my rules before asking to write together, but if after that you’re still interested please message me as I’m typically open to plot and can usually make new characters if need be!

Has it been a while since I’ve responded to a DM/IM? Check my personal post tag to see if I’ve made any updates.

APRIL 2023: Currently on a HIATUS. Replies will be very sporadic; not accepting new plots.

ABOUT • RULES • CHARACTERS • NAVIGATION • PLOT BUNNIES • ASK MEMES

Characters lacking a bio doesn’t indicate being a “main” or “test” character, it just means I haven’t gotten to it yet. Since I can’t have two pinned posts, below the cut are specific plot ideas I’d like for some of my characters. They can be revised as necessary to fit other genres aside from modern day. Please review their general information on my character page!

These are just the main things to keep in mind, but please read my FULL RULES before asking to write together!

• I will not write with anyone or any character under the age of 21. No exceptions. Same goes for the FC of your character, they must be 21+. • I reply about 1-2 times per week. I can’t do frequent replies every day or every other day due to my busy schedule. • Please DO NOT reblog any of my graphics unless you were tagged in it or have otherwise received my explicit permission to do so. • Most of my characters are women as I primarily write F/F for romantic ships because that’s what I’m most comfortable with, but I am willing to write other gender romantic pairings. Anything goes for platonic relationships. If you’re interested in a M/F ship with one of my women characters, you can ask but I’m picky, sorry. Most prefer women anyway despite whatever sexuality they are.       • I’m open to platonic plots and encourage them too! • I’m open to just about any genre despite whatever genre I write my characters in as their main verse. They’re nearly all pretty flexible with being dropped into other settings and I enjoy branching out and doing different types of genres.

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑-𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒

If romance isn’t specified then the plot doesn’t have to include it. The gender-pairings listed are only applicable when it comes to romantic connections, but irrelevant otherwise.

My muse for my guys is fickle which is why there are few to no plots listed for them. If you're interested in any of my guys let me know and we can create a plot together!

ALEXIS CAINE. 37. Medical examiner (mildly corrupt). F/F.

M.E./“Client”; changes the evidence to push a case into her favor for the sake of your character who is either being wrongly charged/suspected (e.g. being framed) or is on a track for receiving a harsh punishment for something that wasn’t their fault or an accident.

Coworkers-ish; she’s convinced to work with a private detective and help them with a case. Maybe the P.I. discovered what she does: tampering with evidence if she deems the case being unfair against the suspect, whom she will meet with first prior to agreeing to work together. They could’ve baited her into meeting.

Friends to lovers; your character could be the lawyer she works with on the cases which she’s altered the evidence or someone she works with (lab tech, detective, etc.). Basically sunshine/grump dynamics.

ALIZEH ROSHAN. 37. Personal assistant (aspiring chief of law). F/F.

Boss/P.A.; she’ll try to leave as soon as things heat up.

Exes/Past affair; in a chose of the relationship or her career Alizeh would pick her career. This could’ve been why things ended or not or one of many reasons.

Rivals to lovers; coworkers, working for rival companies, or your character could be CEO of a startup that’s rivaling Alizeh’s boss’ company, etc.

CAMILLA ZHU. 58. Spy / Hitman for a criminal organization. F/F.

Hitman, Spy/Target (can be a criminal, wealthy/prominent public figure, or regular civilian)

Mentor/Protégé

Rivals; whether they work with the same organization or they work on opposing sides.

Defective agent; someone who gets her to betray her organization and either work for a rivaling organization or partner up with your character and they work independently.

Betrayal (ex-friends, lovers, or something in between); current or former partners where one betrayed the other.

Enemies to friends/lovers; forced to work together for a mission, but start out hating one another.

Forced proximity; forced partnership for a mission leads to forced proximity (sharing a room/only one bed, hiding in lots of cramped spaces that puts them physically close, etc.); this can go with any of the above ideas.

ESPERANZA CORONA. 43. Councilperson. F/F, M/F.

Exes; from before she became a councilperson.

Target/Hitman; someone is targeting her for a shot at her seat.

Rivals; a rivaling politician or up and coming politician.

EVA HAWTHORNE. 47. Socialite / Artist (anonymous). F/F.

Crime; can be pulled into crime unwittingly as an art forger.

Boss’s wife/Personal Assistant; Eva is gay but very lowkey, almost secretive, about it due to being married to a prominent man for the sake of her family. This could be a legal age gap, but no one under 35.

INGRID SALINAS. 42. Head of herpetology at a museum. F/F, F/M.

Spouses; with a rocky relationship. She doesn’t know how to fix things so she focuses more on work yet at the same time fears the relationship’s ending in the same poor way her parents’ marriage did.

Chloe; something inspired by the movie about a married woman hiring someone (but doesn’t have to be an escort in our plot, they could be a PI) to find out information on her spouse.

JAIMIE KING. 31. Black Market Dealer / Hunter (post-apocalyptic setting). F/F, F/M.

Ex-best friends; someone she abandoned or betrayed to save herself.

KALANI ENNIS. 38. Hitman / Criminal informant. F/F.

Lawful/Lawless; Kalani, seeking to try and turn her life around, starts working as an informant to help your character chase down other criminals.

Hitman/Target; The target she can’t bring herself to kill.

MARCELLA ESPADA-SHIRAZI. ~300 / 40. Vampire (can be written in a non-supernatural setting as a human). Hitman. F/F.

Almost lovers

Hitman/Target

Hitman/Hitman

Ex-friend, partner, etc.; Someone who knew her in the past as a lawyer before she became the wrathful, hollow version of herself that she is now.

Platonic or Romantic anything; Someone to teach her how to let go of her grief and channel her rage into something constructive.

REGAN SLOANE. 32. Bodyguard. F/F.

Hired for a heist; but she ends up getting close to your character who could either be a team member for the heist or the target.

Bodyguard/Client; your character could be a criminal, someone of importance, etc. that Regan has to protect.

RILEY THORTON. 35. Hitman. F/F, F/M.

Past gang member; someone who was apart of the gang she brought to ruin. They could be someone who had a high position (not the leader, as they’re deceased) and want revenge for some reason.

Investigator/Hitman; Someone who’s onto Riley, but doesn’t yet have solid enough evidence that she’s behind the gang’s collapse and this could be their big break if they can crack the story open. In this scenario Riley would work as a bartender as a cover job.

Clients; someone who’s hired her past or present and starts to be a repeat client for some reason and use this opportunity to get to know her.

Hitman vs. Hitman; someone who’s been hired to target Riley for something she did to the client that crossed them enough to want her gone.

SEVERIN VOLKE. Ancient; appears 38. Angel. Hitman / Various crime. F/F, *F/M (*for a casual relationship)

Guardian angel/Charge; Severin is a terrible angel and was exiled from Heaven for their violence and disobedience. In the process of turning into a fallen angel. They could protect your character for selfish reasons, but end up coming to their rescue (or to be a nuisance) on multiple occasions.

Guardian demon/Charge; similar to the above except Severin has nearly finished the transition from fallen angel to demon. Though they’ve embraced their chaotic nature there’s still a small part of them that’s good and that part is what leads them to protect your character.

VASCO RIVAS. 30. Thief. M/M, M/F. Original verse is historical, but can be switched into another with ease.

Thief/Target (royalty, noble, commoner)

Forbidden relationship; gap in social status

VALDIS ALMAZAN SOLVEIG. 41. Werewolf. Homicide detective / Bodyguard. F/F.

Bodyguard (maybe hitman)/Client; bonus if the client is a prominent criminal, preferably one who isn’t totally cold-hearted. Valdis could come to work as a hitman or bodyguard for your character if she comes to respect them enough.

Detective/Relative or friend of victim

Detective/Lawyer

VALERIA AGUILAR. 50. Hitman. F/F. Note: she’s immortal, but doesn’t think there’s anyone else out in the world who is as well.

Another immortal person

Scientist/Subject; someone trying to capture her in order to analyze her genetic makeup and biological structure to figure out how she’s immortal, how the accelerated healing processes work, the limits of her immortality/healing, and/or how to weaponize it, etc.

Liberation; she’s captured in a science lab, being used as a test subject but your character chooses to secretly try and help her escape despite this also putting your character in danger.

Hitman/Target, Hitman, or Client

Enemies or friends with benefits to lovers

YANMEI YIN. 53. Editor-in-chief at EXPOSÉ. F/F, F/M. Can also be written further back in her lifetime when she still worked as a police detective pre- or post-coverup scandal before quitting to pursue journalism.

Target/Hunter; someone related to a person who’s had their wrongdoings exposed by Yanmei and either are going after her themselves or your character is someone who’s been hired by someone to go after Yanmei. Doesn’t necessarily have to be a hitman!

Informant; the one Yanmei goes to for advice repeatedly. She knows they don’t work exclusively for her so she’s careful around them. The price asked of her could become more dangerous and not just about money.

Ex-spouses; Yanmei was married once, though it fell apart for a variety of reasons, but in part because of her unyielding personality although she’d have been gentler in a relationship. But still stubborn and blunt with her opinions. They’re always chasing stories too.

[flordivina]

For Spotify Wrapped: 50 (from my muses, Jinx, Vi, Naafiri, Warwick, LeBlanc (Test Muse) Go with whoever fits the best for the respective song.)

• Spotify Wrapped Starters — Accepting • { ♫ 50 - Violence against Nature by Bad Omens ft. Poppy ♫ } / for Sera & VI

——It was bad; it was so bad… Seraphine couldn’t help but keep running as another wave of protests from Zaun had arised, those who followed Jinx as a symbol & were being punished by the martial laws from Piltover. It had been yet another aggressive endeavor, fire met with fire. She may be deemed a traitor perhaps, classified for corruption, compliance with the enemy, whatever political thing that could be crossing her mind. Yet the only reason she had been running those errands back & forth was precisely to deliver aid to those who couldn’t access it. Breathing Masks, filters, fixing prosthetic, medicines, whatever that could be offered…

Something had happened, another altercation. Violence against everybody & everyone; not even her headphones could tamper the sounds of painful melodies being translated by her own arcane into her heart, crushing her nerves & making her dizzy as she clenched the bag keeping medical equipment tightly against her chest, gasping for air & looking behind her every so often. She could hear the enforcers looking for her group, she could hear the screams full of swearing & agony.

Before she would realize it, Seraphine was lost, rushing inside a bar establishment with some other Zaunites that were fleeing from the Law. Perhaps they had recognized her? The girl with the bunch of fixing tools & a whole first aids equipment? She didn’t know, yet, it was nice to be able to breath after several hours of fleeing back & forth. The place seemed to have grown quiet, windows closed & shades drown, pretending to be closed.

She was tired, honestly, heart still beating faster than it shall, her ears still in a cacophony she couldn't stop, to the point she would just go find a place to sit near the barman, still holding the precious cargo to aid whoever need it. & when peeking to her side, seeing a woman with dark-inked hair & a jacket with a wolves design. It may steal her attention briefly as her melody was very particular, perhaps her own adrenaline-filled brain trying to soothe & ground itself finally setting in a single symphony…

It sounded, like the roar of Tigers…? It was fervent; beautiful; but all the same with a saddened note… Like strong music with a lot of ups & down, the sound of walls crumbling, crackling fire, metal sliding; & screams. But there was also a laughter at the sound of a drum; something hopefully childish & sweet that would surprise the young songstress, immersing her for too long she wasn’t able to realize she had been staring for too long.

“Oh! My apologies!… I… was just wondering—“ She would notice some bruises, choosing to focus on that detail due the situation. Maybe she had also been hurt in the middle of the escape? Totally unaware of the underground fight rings the other could had been participating prior to the situation of tonight.

“You look a little beaten up, do you require any aid? Or an analgesic perhaps? I have some medicine for pain in my bag if you require it…”

@shimmerbeasts ♥

[prometheusinitiative]

Wren | Trial 4.3 | Breaking Point

As the votes start piling up Wren’s expression goes from distant and hardened to looking on the verge of real fear- real panic. The number climbs higher with each new person who chimes in and his hopes sink further and further.

“Wait.”

he croaks out, faintly at first. Another vote. 

“No- no please wait just- Listen!”

He looks almost desperate now. Frustrated; confused. He clenches the fist of his uninjured arm over and over, breathing heavily as he stares so hard at the floor as if it holds the answer. When he finally speaks again his voice is so weak, so small, so defeated.

“Ridley never went mad.”

he can hardly bear to look up now, eyes fixated on the floor as the events replay behind his eyes over and over.

“I’m sorry. I went after Ridley. It was stupid of me I was just so angry I couldn’t think- and then she practically handed me the weapon, she pointed it out deliberately why did she do that-”

he cuts himself off, fist closing as he takes a deep breath. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be Royce.”

the crack of his voice carries real grief now,

“I don’t know where he came from- how he got there so fast, but I swear I was stopping before he did. I realized what I’d done and I- I stopped, but he didn’t care. He saw what I’d done to her and he just kept coming at me. I couldn’t fight him off, I couldn’t get away, and then when he was strangling me I was just trying to grab for anything I could use to push him off… I couldn’t breathe, I didn’t even see what it was i grabbed until…”

he finally trails off, looking hollow and empty.

“And when it was over, I had to decide that it shouldn’t have been for nothing. I knew eventually the truth would come out, but until then, if I could have a chance at getting to the board I was damn well going to make it count.”

he finally raises his eyes to look at Jules, almost bewildered, stricken with guilt and shame.

“I lied because I thought it was my only chance. Because I knew if I told the truth outright you would all throw me to Royce’s mercy, when I know without a doubt he will not spare me for what I’ve done.” his brows furrow slightly, “yet you still- knowing what I did you still were willing to give me a chance…”

the mere concept seems to have broken some resolve in him and he drops his head down into his hand. 

“There is a man on the board who killed his own son-someone I loved, then covered up the evidence of it, and got away with it,”

his voice is thick with grief and anger combined now,

“I mean to kill him, but if you will give me the chance, I will do whatever you need of me regarding them first. I will have them free Ridley, I will negotiate freedom for all of you if you ask it of me, so long as that man pays for his crime. And afterward, I will accept whatever punishment Royce deems fit for me, but just… not yet. We don’t know yet if his execution of me will be final, and I can’t die yet- not before he does.

[7-wonders]

Every Time We Touch (Adrian Chase)

Summary: Adrian's not a fan of having people touch him. The more that he gets to know you, the more that he warms up to the idea of people, namely you, crossing that boundary.

Or,

Five times you touched Adrian Chase and he realized he might not be touch-averse, and one time where he said "fuck it" and touched you first.

I. 

The first time that Adrian realizes that he’s not entirely touch-averse is also, coincidentally, the first time that you touch him. The whole team is brainstorming at the old Henenlotter’s Video, trying to figure out the link to the spa business card that Chris found and the butterflies that you’re tasked to destroy. Ideas have been thrown out, though they’re not necessarily good ones: a butterfly works at the spa, one of the butterflies enjoys spa treatments, even that the spa doesn’t actually exist and is a red herring (a red herring for what, though, nobody is quite sure). None of those theories seem to fit what you already know about butterflies, which leaves everyone frustrated and a little cranky.

Murn is about to call for the group to take a lunch break when Adrian suddenly speaks up, feeling like a lightbulb has gone off over his head. “Well, what if the butterflies are using the spa as, like, a headquarters or something? Maybe they’re making more butterflies there.” 

Most of the time, when people look at Adrian silently for a long moment, it’s because he’s said something that they’ll deem stupid. Adrian doesn’t tend to agree with that judgment, considering most of what he says is actually very genius, but whatever. By the way that the rest of this ragtag task force stares at him, he assumes that he once again said something that they don’t agree with.

Murn’s finally the one to speak, pointing a finger at Adrian and nodding slowly. “That’s…actually a good theory.”

“Ha, imagine that!” Peacemaker jokes, holding his arms out like he’s waiting for everyone to start laughing along with him.

Instead of laughing, Murn ignores him, and the deflated look that he sports when he realizes he’s being ignored. “Economos, see if you can get into any security cameras on or near the Glen Tai campus.”

The rest of the team begins to be assigned various tasks related to collecting more intel on this potential lead and gets up to complete said tasks, but not you. Your desk sits across from the one that Adrian had been given after he had basically forced himself into the team. He knows that, to anybody else, this would seem like a punishment. To anybody else, he’s weird and antisocial and a little bit sociopathic. 

You don’t treat him the way that other people do. You treat him like he’s got something interesting to say, and like his opinion matters, even when it’s an objectively stupid opinion like Judomaster getting his strength from his bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos (well, he still doesn’t think that was a stupid theory, and he still thinks that this should be looked into). He understands why people enjoy getting praise from others, because he finally feels that “normal” emotion when you praise him.

After everybody else is gone, and being tasked with finding evidence to back up Adrian’s theory, you look at him from your desk and grin. See, that’s what he likes about you. You just get him, in a way that nobody else does. You understand that this is something to be excited about–he had an idea, a good one, and people agreed with him. It’s not often that that happens.

“Great theory, Adrian!” His heart clenches when you say his name, but he brushes that off as heartburn from the questionable Mexican he ate earlier.

“Ah, it was nothing.” He waves a nonchalant hand in the air as if he produces leads for the team all the time. “Just a random idea I had.”

“It was a good one, though.”

You hold up your hand to him, and he hesitates. Under normal circumstances, there’s no way that he’d accept someone’s high five. He doesn’t like–touching, not even just a friendly pat on the back. Call it a quirk, a trait, or just Adrian being Adrian, but he’s never enjoyed other people touching him. Even when he was a kid, he avoided games like Red Rover due to the fact that you had to hold hands to play. Not only was it awkward to be so close to other people, but the idea of grubby, sweaty hands holding onto his was not something that Adrian was ever fond of.

This isn’t exactly a normal circumstance anymore. To be honest, he doesn’t know what ‘normal’ is at this point in his life. How can you have a normal day when you’re a vigilante that’s fighting parasitic aliens determined to take over humanity? Maybe that’s why he begins to consider your offer of a high five.

“C’mon, why won’t you give me a high five? You’re fine high fiving me after we make it out of a butterfly lair, but you won’t now?” Adrian’s cheeks flush, and he shrugs. He doesn’t want to admit that the only time he feels comfortable touching someone else is while he’s in the Vigilante suit (there’s gloves on his suit, after all) and that he’s basically a different person then. As just plain Adrian? No.

This time feels…different, though. He’s not exactly excited to high five you, but he’s not completely opposed to it like he would be if, say, Adebayo were the one sitting across from him.

You wiggle your fingers teasingly, raising an eyebrow at him when you realize you’re slowly wearing him down. “Here. C’mon!”

You push your hand further over the joined desks, waiting for him to smack his hand against yours. Finally, he does. It’s definitely not the best high five ever given, but it’s a high five nonetheless. The look on your face wipes away any of his doubts about if you think he’s a weirdo for not having high fived before, and he actually likes the way that his hand tingles after contact with your skin. He might be imagining it, but he continually flexes his hand throughout the day to chase the feeling of your touch.

II. 

The Glen Tai recon mission had not happened as expected. Instead of being a quick in-and-out to collect information on the movements of the butterflies, a horde of butterflies had nearly overwhelmed the group and killed you all. Surprisingly, that wasn’t the biggest threat. No, that honor belonged to the butterfly-controlled gorilla that had tossed you, Harcourt, and Adrian around like a bunch of rag dolls. Economos ended up being the one to come to the rescue (wielding a chainsaw, which Adrian finds very unfair), and the task force got out and back on the road largely unscathed.

In this line of work, ‘largely unscathed’ means ‘not shot or stabbed’. There’s plenty of cuts and scrapes littering the bodies of the anti-heroes, but considering everyone is alive, conscious, and walking, the mood inside the truck is overall jovial. Economos and Peacemaker have found a shared love of hair metal, and even though it’s not something those in this truck would normally listen to, you’re all gladly moving your bodies to the beat. Adrian’s enjoying this camaraderie that he’s found, happy to be alive and with these people that he considers to be his friends. He’s not the best at doing any sort of dancing though, so he just moves his head and watches everybody else. 

Mostly, he’s just tired. The adrenaline is very quickly wearing off, and the ache of the bruises and cuts that he’s suffered are starting to make themselves known. He can see that the others are feeling it too, even if none of them will admit it. Limbs begin to become heavy and dancing is replaced by the same head bobbing Adrian’s been doing (and they tell him that’s not actual dancing. Who’s laughing now?), yawns are stifled and conversation starts to die down. Adrian leans his head against the wall of the truck behind him, looking for something to support his body. It’s definitely not ideal, considering that the movement of the vehicle continually jolts the back of his head against the metal.

He’s about to just say “fuck it” and risk the concussion anyways when he feels something thump against his shoulder. When he looks down, he sees you jerking your head up from where it fell against him. You look up at him and smile sheepishly, rubbing at your eyes to try and make yourself become more alert.

“Sorry,” you say to him, “I dozed off for a second.”

“Are you tired?” That’s a stupid question to ask, because obviously you’re tired, you just fell asleep for a second and landed on his shoulder, but you don’t tell him it’s a stupid question like everybody else here would.

“A little bit. Apparently, fighting a gorilla takes a lot out of you.”

Adrian chuckles. “The gorilla looks a lot worse than we do right now.”

You bump your shoulder against his in agreement. “Damn straight.”

Adrian watches you for a second, how you try to angle yourself away from him so you don’t fall asleep on him again. “Y’know, you can–um, if you want to sleep, you can use my shoulder.”

“Yeah?” You look at him, checking to make sure he’s really okay with this and that this isn’t crossing his boundaries. 

Even though he’s never actually told you that he’s not a fan of being touched, you’ve managed to pick up on it pretty easily. Maybe that’s just what happens when you spend long hours with people, like the team has been doing more and more often lately. 

When he nods, you nod back at him. “Thanks.”

You’re a little awkward at first, gingerly laying your head back on his shoulder and trying to figure out how to get comfortable without being too much of a perceived burden on Adrian. After a bit, you stop shifting, and Adrian can hear your quiet breathing change into something slow and steady as you fall asleep.

Having someone, having you, asleep on him isn’t nearly as annoying as he thought it would be. In fact, your body against his is comforting, almost like a weighted blanket, though maybe it’s just because you both could have died today. He’s tempted to put an arm around you and pull you closer to him, but the realization that that’s something that he wants to do is startling, so he decides that this is not the day for trying a number of new things.

When he starts to feel it getting more difficult to keep his own eyes open, he finds himself having to make a choice. Does he go back to laying against the jostling metal of the truck and not get any sort of decent rest, or does he lay his head on top of yours so that he can actually get some sleep? Though the thought makes him a little squeamish—he may be more comfortable around you than anyone else, but he still isn’t used to physical touch—he decides that he prefers the latter.

Slowly, so slowly that he worries the people around him are going to notice and ask him what the fuck he’s doing, Adrian lays his head on yours. At this moment, it makes sense why people romanticize this sort of thing. It’s really comforting to be so close to someone you care for when you’re in the most vulnerable state. 

Plus, he gets to smell your hair in a way that’s not creepy. Not that he smells your hair normally, but sometimes he’ll catch a whiff of your shampoo and it smells really nice. He really needs to remember to not ever mention that to you, or anybody. It sounds creepy even when he’s just thinking about it.

Where moments ago he found himself unsure of being able to get any rest, he soon discovers that he drifts to sleep easily in this position, sound asleep against you.

(Leota takes a picture of this, you asleep on Adrian’s shoulder and Adrian asleep with his head on top of yours. She doesn’t take it to laugh at you guys or share among the group. No, she takes it so she can hold onto it, so she can whip it out when you two finally get together and say that she knew from the very beginning how this would end up.)

III.

As it turns out, judo isn’t the only skill that Judomaster possesses. He’s actually quite handy with knives as well, which is something that nobody was expecting until the moment he pulled a dagger from his suit and began to swing. Though Adrian was able to handle himself in the fight, Judomaster still got in a couple of good swipes with the knife. The cuts are deep enough to continue bleeding sluggishly even after Judomaster disappears just as quickly as he appeared, but that’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. When Adrian and Peacemaker stumble back into what’s now become HQ, though, it’s clear that the cut on his abdomen is not one that he can slap a bandaid on and call it good.

He’s upstairs in the old office that’s become the unofficial triage, digging through the many first aid kits stocked in here for suture supplies, when you knock and open the door. You hang back in the doorway, unsure of how to ask what you want to ask. Adrian smiles at you to reassure you that you can come in.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey. How are you doing?”

“It hurts, but not too bad. I’ll stitch myself up quick and then I’ll be good as new!” 

You frown, but Adrian’s not sure why. Were you hoping for him to bleed out? “I can give you stitches, you know. You don’t have to do them yourself.”

“You don’t have to! I promise I’ve done this before.” Adrian doesn’t want you to think that he’s incapable of patching himself back up; he’s spent many nights with a towel in his mouth to muffle any wayward sounds of pain as he yanked a questionably-sterilized needle and non-surgical thread through his skin. Still, you shake your head and sit down on the couch next to him.

“Really, it’s no problem. Trust me, I know how much it sucks to have to give yourself stitches.”

It’s common in this business to not talk about how you got into said business. Still, it was impossible for him to even pretend like he didn’t snoop through everyone’s files the moment Economos left his computer unattended. You originally had plans to join the FBI, but your aptitude tests caught the attention of Amanda Waller’s network. Soon enough, you were often loaned out by the Bureau to work for her, doing the type of dangerous stuff that the FBI Academy had told you was mostly only in movies.

“Can I?” You’re not really asking him, considering you’re already taking the materials out of his lap and placing them on the table in front of you.

“Um, sure.”

Adrian’s not sure he can ever go back to giving himself stitches, or having Peacemaker do it when the wound is complicated or somewhere he can’t reach. You’re so gentle, from the way you sterilize his wound to how you thread the needle. In another life, Adrian thinks that your experience could have landed you a career as a doctor instead of the special ops you do now.

Your eyes try to stay focused on your work, but as you begin to stitch Adrain up, you can’t help but to look up at him. Though Adrian tries not to, he hisses through clenched teeth at the sudden pain. It’s dull, but it’s still not fun, especially when there’s no lidocaine to numb it.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you apologize profusely, pulling your hands away in caution.

“It’s okay, it’s not because of you. You’re doing great.”

You nod before closing yet another stitch. His abdomen jumps under your touch, both from the pain and from the unfamiliarity of the way that you touch him.

It’s not a begrudging touch like the time that Harcourt had used butterfly bandages to close up a cut on his hairline, nor is it a rushed touch like all his coworkers at Fennel Fields who act like having to hand him dishes and change is the worst thing in the world. You just want to help him, to make sure that someone that you care for is going to be okay.

Adrian’s so in his head that he doesn’t realize you’ve finished your last stitch until you’re clipping the thread and grabbing a bandage from the first aid kit. He looks down to admire your handiwork; the stitches are neat and clean, a little row of black lines dancing above his hip.

“You did good,” Adrian commends, watching as you smile and become uncharacteristically shy.

“Thanks. It’s nothing, you’d do the same for me.” 

Adrian realizes that yeah, he would do the same for you. If you were bleeding and attempting to close yourself up, he would jump in in a heartbeat to do it for you.

“Adrian–”

“Guys?” Harcourt calls out to the team that’s scattered through headquarters. 

You move away from Adrian, looking over your shoulder to the stairs. “Up here! We’ll be down in a minute.”

Grabbing the used supplies, you make yourself busy properly disposing of the medical supplies. Adrian stands up and pulls on a random shirt that he keeps in his go bag.

“Make sure to try not to get in any knife fights until those stitches come out,” you tease. “Don’t need you popping them when I’m not around to stitch you back up again.”

“I’ll try my best.” Adrian feels like he sounds like such a loser, but you just smile at him.

“That’s all I need, is for you to try.”

IV.

Pain. All Adrian can feel right now is pain. That’s probably due to the fact that he set off a grenade inches away from him, but still. Now he’s here, though he’s not quite sure how exactly he got “here”, or where “here” is. One moment he was laying on the ground with bodies surrounding him, and the next he’s in a car on the side of the road. However he managed to get from Point A to Point B, he’s just glad that he’s not out in the open anymore.

He’s so tired, and it’s easy to give into the need to close his eyes. But when he does, he sees the flash of the grenade and feels his body being thrown through the air. He hears the way Peacemaker yelled his name, how you screamed when it appeared that he sacrificed himself. It consistently jolts him out of any sleep that tries to claim him, and he settles for just zoning out by staring at the dashboard of the car. Eventually, he must pass out, because he jolts back into consciousness when his ears pick up on sounds outside the car.

When he first hears voices, he thinks that he must be imagining things. Maybe he’s got a head injury, or he’s dead. Then he thinks that the White Dragon’s followers have found him, and he starts to panic. When he hears a voice that sounds a lot like Peacemaker calling his name, and someone that sounds like you gasp, he realizes that his friends might have actually found him. Still, he doesn’t have the strength to do anything, to call back or wave or even to move. He just has to lay there, hoping that you’ll rescue him.

“Adrian!” You go to open the door, only to find it locked. Banging on the window, you try to get his attention until he finally opens his eyes. “Adrian, unlock the door!”

Adrian finds it within himself to figure out how to work his fingers again and presses the button to unlock the doors. You finally open it and immediately throw yourself at Adrian, careful of the torn-up top part of his uniform and any potential injuries.

“Why did you do that?” you cry, hands feeling his face as if to make sure he’s real. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

He freezes, overwhelmed with the fact that nobody’s ever cried over him in the way that you are, so relieved and thankful that he’s okay. After a moment, his arms slowly go to rest around your torso. You nearly fall on top of him, but you don’t seem to care. No, you seem to care about everything but potentially falling on him.

“Are you okay? Like, you’re not dying?” You pull away enough to look him over again, cataloging just how injured he is.

“I’m okay. Just a little scraped up.”

Your cheeks are wet with tears, and you try to stop the tears that continuously drip from your eyes. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

Adrian laughs, grimacing just slightly in pain. “I know.”

“It’s great to see you, Vig, but we’ve gotta go!” Peacemaker reminds you. 

He gets behind the wheel while you get in the back seat. You refuse a seatbelt in favor of being able to hold onto Adrian, though he’s not sure why. It’s not like he’s going anywhere. If he could get the ringing in his ears under control, he would tell you that it’s illegal to ride in a car without a seatbelt and that this was your warning before he would have to make sure you comply with the law.

“We thought you were dead,” you say. “It looked like you were dead.”

“‘M fine.” For some reason, Adrian thinks that it’s a great idea to turn the radio on, and flips the station to something playing rock before trying his best to headbang.

Peacemaker’s the one to question him. “Dude, what are you doing?”

“There’s no wrong time to rock, motherfucker,” Adrian repeats.

“Yes,” Peacemaker punches the button to turn the radio off, “there is.”

“This is absolutely the wrong time to rock,” you chime in.

Adrian scoffs. “You guys are no fun.”

You lean over the center console, ignoring the look of alarm that Peacemaker gives you in favor of putting a hand on Adrian’s face. His breath stutters in his throat. Why are you touching him like that? Why is your thumb stroking the skin of his cheek so softly? What’s going on here?

It feels like a fever dream and a hallucination all wrapped up in one. There’s no way that this can be real, that you can be touching him and that he can be receptive to it. But he is. Slowly but surely, you’ve worked through every bit of hesitation towards being touched that Adrian had held. He could get used to this, he thinks. He could get used to you being the one to touch him like he’s someone worth touching and holding.

“You can’t do that again. You can’t sacrifice yourself like that,” you tell him. Adrian opens his mouth to respond, but you shush him quietly. “I’m serious, Adrian. I can’t deal with the thought of you dying at all, let alone like that. Just one time believing you were dead was bad enough.”

You didn’t say that the team can’t deal with the thought of Adrian dying, or that you and Peacemaker couldn’t deal with it. You said “I can’t deal with the thought” of Adrian dying. Where his heart stuttered before, it’s racing now. Could that one noun mean something? Or were you just thinking of yourself instead of the royal “we”?

Instead of saying anything, Adrian just nods. After a moment, you believe him and nod back.

“Okay.” You lay your forehead against his and take a deep breath. Adrian gets the feeling that’s the first deep breath you’ve taken since this happened.

“Again, super happy you’re okay, but I need to know if there’s any way we could be tracked right now,” Peacemaker interjects.

“Is your phone trackable?” Adrian asks.

Peacemaker shakes his head. “No, and since we got rid of my helmet, we should be good.”

Adrian looks at Chris with wide eyes, and you groan. Suddenly, everything feels normal again. He’s made a classic mistake that only he can make, and the world has righted itself on its axis once more. Now, you just have to figure out how to distance yourselves from a trunk full of helmets that are currently being tracked. Business as usual.

V.

He’s just no-scoped the shit out of a butterfly when he sees you a few yards away from him, engaging in the hand-to-hand combat that you’re so good at. You’ve never been fond of straight killing people, instead choosing to try and incapacitate your opponent. Of course, you’re trying not to think of the fact that they’ll all have to be killed anyways. At least you’re not the one doing the killing. Adrian takes a moment to admire the way that you fight, always seeming to anticipate the other’s move before they’ve even made it.

When the butterfly finally goes down, you wipe the back of your hand along your forehead and grin at Adrian before your eyes flicker to something behind him and your smile drops. Before Adrian can even turn around, you’ve got your gun unholstered and are shooting at the butterfly that was aiming a police-issued rifle right at him. The butterfly drops to the ground harshly and you grimace at the sound their body makes before Adrian jogs over to you.

“Nice shot,” Adrian compliments, head on a swivel as he tosses one of his knives at a butterfly across the field. 

“You’re not doing so bad, yourself.” 

Your comms simultaneously crackle to life, Peacemaker alerting the team that he’s breached underground and is about to take on Detective Song before finally killing the cow. With that in mind, your mission remains the same: kill the butterflies before they can kill any of you. Right now, the mission is going better than any of you thought that it would.

You and Adrian work synchronously, you taking down a butterfly and Adrian shooting it in the head (and stomping the butterfly that crawls out of the corpse) when you’ve moved on to the next one. Harcourt seems to be doing just as good, though she has none of the moral quandaries that you do when it comes to killing.

Adrian looks over at you when you finally get a break in waves of butterflies. You’re right next to him, breathing heavily and trying to wipe blood off of your face. He thinks you’re extremely pretty right now, even like this. Probably isn’t the best time to tell you that, though. You’re about to say something, though Adrian will never know what it is, when you hear something that alerts you to danger and spring into action.

“Adrian, look out!” You’re taking him to the ground before he even registers that a shot’s been fired, landing on top of him as a round of bullets whizz over your heads.

“Thanks,” Adrian says, looking up at you from where he’s laying on the ground with wide eyes. 

You’re sitting up now, straddling his lap and trying to act like this is a normal position for you to be in. You look like an absolute vision, and Adrian has to try with all his might to not let his jaw drop as he stares at you. His train of thought right now is just a continuous stream of “ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod” and he’s desperately hoping that he doesn’t pop a boner at this. You’re in the middle of a battlefield! Dead bodies are everywhere! For some reason, likely due to the fact that Adrian’s a little bit fucked up, that only makes the situation seem hotter.

For your part, you don’t seem to notice the crisis that Adrian’s having. He actually likes this position he’s found himself in, and he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t be able to get used to being under you. Still, this really isn’t the right place to be experiencing confusing arousal, so he attempts to push those thoughts from his head right now.

“Don’t mention it.” You go to swing your leg back over him so that you can get off of him, but you’re stopped by pain that’s obvious by the way your face twists. You curse under your breath, trying to figure out what’s causing you to feel this way.

Adrian spots it first, and when he does, he feels his throat constrict. “Oh my god. Oh my god, no.”

“Huh?” You look down at where he’s looking and see the exit wound of a bullet hole in your left thigh. “Well, shit.”

Adrian shifts out from under you and you groan from the movement of your wound as he sits down on the ground and lifts your leg into his lap. “Shit!” Adrian tries to think back to any of the wound training that he’s learned, but all he can think about is that you’ve been shot. You’re shot, and he’s sitting here like an idiot while you’re in pain all because he’s panicking over the fact that you’re shot.

“I’m okay, really. It’s just a gunshot wound.”

Adrian laughs harshly. “Just a gunshot wound? Jesus, Y/n, you got shot! You got shot because you were protecting me!”

You wave his concern off, even though he can tell that the pain from the gunshot is making you nauseous from the way that you close your eyes and breathe deeply through your nose. “Pssh, fucker only got me in the leg. I’ll be okay, really.”

“What happened to not sacrificing ourselves, huh? You think you can’t handle the thought of me dying? That’s nothing compared to how much I can’t handle the thought of you dying!”

“I’m not going to die, Adrian, it’s just my leg! We’re all going to die though if we don’t help the team.” Butterflies are starting to gain on the territory that you had previously beaten them back on, leaving you with limited time to decide what to do.

Reports begin to come in of your team members needing help. Harcourt, Adebayo, and Peacemaker are all in trouble. When Economos responds that he’s on his way to help, Adrian realizes that he’s the team’s only hope right now. You realize this too, and you look back at him.

“You need to go help. The team’s not going to be able to win this without you.”

“But–” He’s so torn right now. Does he get back in the action and continue to fight, fulfilling every one of his adrenaline-filled fantasies? Or does he stay with you, who makes him feel things he’s never felt before and is currently lying injured because of the fucking bullet that was meant for him?

You make Adrian’s decision for him by shoving him and pointing towards where the fighting is happening. “Go!”

Adrian glances at you one more time, watching as one shaking hand covers the wound to try and stop the bleeding while the other grabs your gun and aims in the direction of the butterflies. If this is the last time he ever sees you (because it’s becoming increasingly obvious that none of you are making it out of this mess alive), then he regrets that it’s like this. He can’t think about that now, though. Can’t think about potential lasts or deaths or anything of that sort. 

All he can do now is fight.

VI.

You make your way out of the hospital slowly, still trying to get used to the crutches you’re required to use for six weeks. After how close the bullet came to severing your artery, and the potential for further nerve damage, the doctors decided it would be best for you not to put any weight on your left leg for the time being. “Aw, I get my own welcoming committee now that I’m out of the hospital?”

“If you think that a committee can be made up of just one person, then consider yourself welcomed.” Adrian’s leaning against his car, eyes darting back and forth as he watches for threats. Blame it on the adrenaline still in his system or on the fact that he just escaped from this place yesterday, but he wants to get both of you far away from here.

“You know you didn’t have to skip out on your hospital bill, right? Waller’s paying for all of this.” Adrian can feel his cheeks heating up at this; he should have realized this, but of course he didn’t. Would have saved him a whole lot of embarrassment while trying to stealthily make it home yesterday with his ass hanging out of his hospital gown.

“I knew that!” Adrian insists. “I just don’t trust doctors.”

To your credit, you simply nod and take him at his word, even though you both know that was the boldest of bold-faced lies.

Adrian suddenly realizes that you’re standing on crutches and on pain meds (pain meds that he should also probably be on considering he was also shot, but since he was ‘only’ shot in his shoulder, he’s basically fine), which means that you would probably prefer to be sitting comfortably. He opens up the passenger door and gestures like he’s Vanna fucking White. “Here, let me help you in.”

It’s a bit of an awkward dance to figure out. You have to prop your crutches against the outside of the car and grab onto Adrian’s forearms so that you can lower yourself into the car. Adrian slides your crutches into the backseat before closing your door and jogging around to the driver’s side. It’s a lot of work to be a one-man welcoming committee, but Adrian’s taking his role seriously.

Adrian waits until you’re safely buckled up before even starting the car. You’re shifting your leg around, and Adrian can tell you’re trying to find a position that doesn’t put a lot of pressure on your wound. “Are you comfortable?”

“As comfortable as I can be in a car. I’m just ready to go home and be in my own bed.” You pause, biting your lip before looking at Adrian. “Fuck, I don’t even know where ‘home’ is anymore.”

“Did you hit your head? You’ve been staying at the Evergreen Inn.”

“No, I didn’t hit my head. I just mean…the mission’s over now, right? I don’t have to be here anymore. I’ll probably end up going back home to D.C. after I’m healed up.”

“Oh,” Adrian says quietly.

He can’t say that he didn’t know this was coming. It’s not like Project Butterfly was going to last forever, nor were the 11th Street Kids planning on moving to Evergreen for good. The mission was always temporary–this was always temporary. Soon, things will go back to how they used to be. Adrian will go back to killing drug dealers and other low-level criminals, once again alone. He doesn’t even know if Chris will stick around, not now that he’s got his suicide squads and with Harcourt’s injuries requiring a couple months of intensive rehab. 

He’ll be alone, and for the first time, he doesn’t like the thought of that. He’s always worked largely solo, but now that he’s worked with a team, the best team, he doesn’t know how he can go back to being the Vigilante that he was before this. He doesn’t know how he can go back to being the Adrian that he was before this.

You notice Adrian’s quiet contemplation, the perturbed expression on his face letting you know that you’ve said something that has gotten to him. He can’t tell you that you would be absolutely right if you were to call him out on it because he’s terrified of the potential results of this connection you have finally being realized by being spoken aloud. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, “I shouldn’t have even said anything. I’m still kinda out of it.”

Adrian hums, shrugging off your apology. He’s scared that if he opens his mouth, words will just keep falling out, so for now he stays silent. Adrian finally parks in front of the hotel, wondering for a moment why you’re looking at him in confusion until he looks out the window and realizes that he subconsciously drove to his apartment instead of your hotel. God dammit, now he’s gonna have to deal with being awkward next to you for even longer when all he wants is to think about how much life is going to suck when the team, when you, are gone.

“Fuck, my bad,” Adrian tries to apologize for driving the opposite direction of where you stay. He feels all shaky and panicky, like he did when he was on that battlefield and realized that you were shot. “I really don’t know what I was doing. I’ll just…yeah.”

“Adrian, it’s okay, really.” You’re trying to reassure him, but he can’t hear that through his pathetic stuttering that tries to form into words that become apologies.

Adrian Chase has never been good at expressing himself, least of all verbally. After all, he didn’t become Vigilante so that he could talk down criminals. True to fashion, he’s at a total loss for words right now. Literally, it feels like his knowledge of the English language has escaped out of his ears. The silence is stretching for too long, and he knows that you’re going to speak soon to either ask him what’s wrong or try to change the subject. He can’t let that happen, so he does the only thing he can think to do.

Adrian doesn’t have to throw any caution towards the wind when he takes your face between his hands. There’s no caution for him to throw, because for the first time, he doesn’t feel weird being touched or touching someone. This feels right, and he hopes that it’s as right for you as it is for him when he leans towards you and kisses you.

You’re obviously surprised by this move, if your shocked “mmph!” was anything to go by. Thankfully, you actually start to kiss him back. If Adrian weren’t trying to make a point right now, he thinks he’d do a celebratory fist pump. You’re kissing him back. Maybe things won’t work out after this. Even if they don’t, Adrian’s happy to know that he’ll always have this memory of that time he kissed one of the hottest people he’s ever met.

When you break apart, both of you out of breath and flustered, Adrian takes a page out of your book and leans his forehead against yours. “I don’t think I want you to go.”

You smirk. “You don’t ‘think’ you want me to go?”

“Okay you’re right, that sounded stupid. I know that I don’t want you to go.”

“Well, I do have six weeks of injury leave, and then who knows if I’ll have to do physical therapy or whatever else. That’ll keep me out of the field for at least two months. After that?” You shrug. “Who knows? Maybe, if I decide I like the area more than I thought I did, I apply for a transfer to a West Coast office.”

“You would do that?” This has gone so much better than anything Adrian could have imagined.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but what we do is typically a very solitary experience. It’ll be nice to not be alone anymore.”

Adrian’s found a kindred spirit in you, a side that he hadn’t expected. He really should have, but you seemed to have integrated yourself so seamlessly into the team that he assumed that you didn’t experience the same isolation that he does. Looks and assumptions are obviously deceiving.

“It would be nice to not be alone anymore,” Adrian echoes. You kiss him this time, and Adrian’s glad to know that the second kiss is just as good as the first.

“So, can I come in? I mean, we’re already here, and it would make no sense to drive all the way back to the hotel.”

Adrian laughs. “Duh, of course you can come in. Just call me Nurse Adrian.”

“Didn’t you just tell everyone a couple days ago how you don’t like male nurses?”

Adrian thinks for a moment before nodding. “You’re right, don’t actually call me that.”

“Okay.” You haven’t been able to stop smiling since he first kissed you. He hopes you never stop smiling around him. “You’re still gonna help me though, right?”

Adrian doesn’t respond to that, because obviously he’s still going to help you. He may kill a lot of people, but he likes to think that he’s kind of a gentleman. Instead, he just opens your door for you, no hesitation in his mind when he gives you his hands so that he can help you out of the car. It’s when he’s got a hand on your back to keep you from falling on the walk to his apartment that he realizes something: Adrian Chase actually really enjoys physical touch, so long as it’s with you.

[sevikasleftpussyflap]

Hiii. Idk if you can tell I’ve been stalking your page but the Sevika content is so refreshing.

I was wondering how Sevika would act if she ever had a crush on someone. (If you don’t wanna write this or have already done this idea then just ignore this 😅).

Helloooooo this is so old, I hope you’re still around <3

Love this love this love this

Love love love the idea of Soft Sev crushing on someone and being a huge softy. Especially if she’s shit at showing it and it leads to the reader thinking Sev’s about to murder them. 

What immediately came to mind was chivalrous but shy Sev around someone she really likes. Someone she pictures herself with when she imagines what retirement could be like, if she lived to see the day Zaun was free. Someone deserving of a better life that she could fight for. 

Silent, protective Sevika watching her love from afar. Never having the courage to speak to her but needing to know they’re safe. Sevika has had her fair share of experience with women, but if she sees the embodiment of all of her dreams and hopes she’s never dared to breathe aloud, she’s going to be a little flustered. She would never be ashamed of who she is because everything she’s experienced and done has shaped her into what Zaun needs. But would she still be needed after Zaun? Would she be able to fit in the nice little world she envisions for herself, or would she taint it? Her existence serves as a reminder of the brutality and corruption that embodies everything about the Undercity so she can’t exactly imagine the future wife she dreams of sharing the same affection. 

Sev would court someone by offering them what she can: protection. She would make it subtle, but her greetings toward you would always start out like “Any problems today?” Or “how are you doing, sweetheart?”

It would be especially jarring if that’s how she opens her first conversation with you. And that’s the entire conversation because she’s not a big talker. She just needs to know the important stuff.

You had avoided the table for as long as you could. Far longer than was acceptable, truly, but so far there had never been a negative review or foul words towards you or your boss.

Which, admittedly, was shocking. This wasn’t the first day you neglected your duties for that particular table. You hoped it would be your last but fate had never been kind to you. Not since you had garnered the attention of Silco’s right hand herself, Sevika.

You had rules down here. Some implicit laws that everyone abided by and some that you had formulated yourself when you took the job as a server for the Last Drop. Mistakes were not an option, not when looking at a person wrong could render you dead in an alley by nightfall. Sooner, if it was ordered by the Industrialist.

Needless to say, those rules included staying on the good side of his henchmen and women. It was harder to do for some more than others yet surprisingly, Sevika was one of the more tame ones. Unless it interferes with her goals, she lets a lot of shit slide within reason. When she didn’t… 

You never thought you’d get the blood out of the wood. You had to stay after hours for the clean, though you were paid handsomely for it. Not like that could erase the sight, the noises, the residual stain left on this place for you. You had seen what she is capable of and it scared you. 

When Sevika’s displeased, she doesn't waste time enacting whatever punishment she deems fit for the situation. Which is why you find the situation you’re in even more precarious. 

One of your own personal rules is to keep a low profile. The lesser known you are, the better. 

Several of your coworkers had captured the attention of some of the henchmen and women. Copious amounts of flirting and diligent service ensured that more than a few of them had favorites among the workers. And, okay, you could see the appeal.

Having such a powerful goon in your corner did come with its fair share of benefits. There was an unspoken claim amongst the bar-goers, a type of protection that was essentially priceless in the Undercity. When your coworker was harassed by a particularly handsy drunk, they had all come to her rescue. She was a favorite of Ran’s, who wasted no time carving a piece out of that guy to offer up to her as some twisted trophy.

Despite the constant badgering of your coworkers to be more friendly, more flirty, that was not the type of love you wanted for yourself. Born and bred in the Undercity, you had seen your fair share of brute violence and needless killing. You wanted a simple life, with a kind person. 

They had all noticed the staring as well. Teasing giggles and jaunty elbows found your side in an abundance of girlish excitement. Ran’s favorite-because she lost the privilege of you remembering her name- never failed to inform you when those piercing eyes followed you as you walked away. 

“Her eyes never leave you, you know.”

“Do they?” The inquiry is absentmindedly thrown at her as you busy yourself with polishing glasses. An imaginary spot captures your focus and prolongs the inevitable.

“She tips you well.”

“Does she?” You don’t need to look at her to know she’s rolling her eyes. Her exasperated sigh paints the picture clear in your mind and you’ve had this conversation with her too many times to not know where it’s going.

“She likes you.”

“I don’t share the sentiment.” “You’re cruel. She’s actually quite nice.” A nasty snort earns you a slap on the arm. “Stop that. She asks about you all the time.”

“Is that where you are when you’re not doing your job? Chatting with her over drinks?”

“Jealous?” Her tone is too hopeful for you. You don’t understand the obsession everyone has with your love life.

“No.” This time you do look at her, if only to relish in the pout that’s on her face. 

It’s not like you don’t like her, you do. This is just one of the few boundaries you’ll defend. Sevika was not infatuated with you like she says, no matter what her inquiries about you may suggest. It wasn’t a secret that Sevika had no shortage of women to choose from beyond the brothel. You were simply something she couldn’t have.

And despite how diligent you were about your rules, you had caught Sevika’s attention. Unwittingly, irresponsibly, dumbly. 

The staring had simply started one day and never stopped. It was out of the blue. Unabashed, as you shakily took orders or delivered food. Sevika started making her stares obvious, the only reason you caught them. She wanted you to know she noticed you, which terrified the shit out of you because that meant you had screwed up. Somewhere along the way, you had displeased her, maybe Silco, though you doubted it because if that were the case, you’d already be dead. Dismembered. Body parts strewn across the city at his right hand’s… hand.

Truthfully, you hated her for changing the trajectory of your life. It never had exactly been a peaceful job but now the anticipation of being noticed choked you like a vice.You were constantly looking over your shoulder on your way home from work. Sleep was lost as you awaited for the inevitable sword to cut through your door, Sevika behind it to enact punishment for some offense you’re not sure you committed.

When you could no longer delay the inevitable, you grab your tray and head over to collect the mountain of dishes piling up on the table.

“I’ll get those out of your way.” You kept your eyes on the silverware and dishes stacked neatly in the middle, like they always were. Just get them and get out. 

No matter how you tried to block out your surroundings, you noticed the gentle, large hand that was passing them to you, noticed who it belonged to. Once, a while ago, she had used her prosthetic to offer you her glass for a refill. You had flinched horribly and embarrassingly scampered to the back where you nearly had a breakdown. That was a few days after she had made a public display of someone who had attempted to cheat Silco. So unbothered she was, beating a man close to death with an almost bored expression. Cruel and cold, ignoring any broken pleas. A few days after the all-nighter you pulled, scraping up bone and skin off the ground. After that, it was always the flesh hand that reached towards you no matter how inconvenient it was. Only a short time had passed before a maroon cloak was added to her usual attire. You tried not to think of the implications of that.

Like clockwork, nothing was said. You ignored the smirks of the men aimed at Sevika, ignored the sloppily written text at the bottom of their ticket. It contained the same thing it always did.

A time, 11: pm. Presumably when she got off, though you’re sure it was earlier than that unless she worked the late nights, terrorizing some poor soul. It wasn’t rare to find her deep into a poker game or at the pool table before 10. Coincidentally it was also a good 15 minutes after you got off, giving you enough time to book it home. At the usual. Her table. Only it didn’t end like that, but with a question mark. Unsure and considerate. You didn’t know how to feel about that 

“Any trouble tonight?” Her voice was soft. It was far more kind than what you’ve usually heard her sound like, though it’s not like you were able to hear it much. From what you remember, it can be low and deadly like it is when she’s on duty. It can be cocky and smug, like when she’s winning a round. It can also be seductive and charming, like when she used to pick up people at the bar.

Although there’s no threat in it, the question causes you to freeze. She’s not looking at you, so you’re not even sure if her words were directed towards you. No one else offered up a response, though and you feel their eyes on you. Perhaps they’re waiting on you to leave before-

Oh Janna, her eyes are devastating. You’ve never seen that shade before, the striking pools of gunmetal stealing your breath like a swift punch to the gut. And they were aimed at you. She’s looking at you.

“...I’m sorry?” You were, for whatever offense you were thought to have committed. 

“Has anyone been giving you trouble?”

Besides you? 

In a small mercy, she reiterates: “Calm night?”

Two words. Your brain can handle that.

“Yes. Quiet. Thank you.” You forced yourself to pause in between the words lest they run together in your hurry to get those eyes off of you. There’s a round of chuckles to your right that quickly die down into smug grins when those eyes narrow in on them. How they don’t feel exposed, stripped to the bone, pulled apart at the very seams under them, you’re not sure.

A glass nearly falls in your haste to get away while you can. It’s rightened without effort by Sevika, who carries on as if it didn’t happen.

“If you ever need anything-”

“Thank you, have a nice night.” Your heart tightens at the disappointed downturn of her lips. It wasn’t your intention to hurt her, only get out of this horrid interaction as soon as possible. Whatever. She’d be fine, she’d find someone else to take home and perhaps some humility would do her some good. You didn’t owe her anything.

Maybe her gentle, quiet behavior makes you cave. Perhaps she comes to your rescue somehow. Regardless of the reason, you decide to meet her one day.

It’s almost time. The minute hand on the clock races across the digits with alarming speed, so much so that you’re tempted to rip it out just for it to slow. Would she even be there? You’ve stood her up- no. You did not stand her up because you never agreed to meeting her in the first place. But your … reluctance to meet with her has surely been noticed. Perhaps she has given up after your disaster of a conversation tonight. The longest you’ve ever spoken to her.

She’s there. She looks bored as hell, face full of what you would call self-loathing and disappointment if you didn’t know who she was. Her cloak still covers half of her, but her metal talons emerge just enough for you to see she’s carving something into the table. As you approach, you’re able to make out the three letters 'Sev'. Cute.

“One more letter and I’m gonna charge ‘damaged property’ on your tab.” 

A slight jolt startles you as much as your voice did her. You truly didn’t sneak up on her, did you?

Regardless, she looks so fucking surprised. There’s a few moments of staring at you like she’s not sure if you’re real and she looks so… vulnerable. It gives you the confidence you need to pull out the chair across from her and sit down, shoulders a little straighter.

“You came.”

“Seems like it.”

Her eyebrow lifts, eyes darting you up and down like she’s not sure who you are. Several beats of silence pass and you lift your own eyebrow in turn. It has to be the trick of the light, but you’re sure her cheeks heat.

“Just staking my claim.” She gestures towards the carved letters, prosthetic hand now out of sight.

“Over a table?”

“Over your table.” Huh. You knew she wouldn’t let you have the reins for long. You may have caught her off guard, but she bounced back quickly and now the ball is in your court. Irritatingly, your heart fluttered a bit at the soft expression she maintained and the relaxed posture you knew was for your benefit. “What made you change your mind?” 

The playful purse of your lips catches her eye as you feign contemplation.

“Who says I ever decided?”