#I do not want to deal w the hassle of returning this and getting an 8 case

[badolmen]

Bruh

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (vii) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : a little weed sure eases theses two up.

warnings : implications of sex & use of weed

mickey speaks : sorry this took a while to get out friends, hope u love it. also lowkey self inserting w the hawaii trip :P

THIS IS PART SEVEN GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST!!!

“OH, he’s obsessed!” andrea exclaims across the table, a wide smile smothered over her face.

it didn’t take long for asha to call you and begin debriefing her month-long europe trip to you, only for you to cut her short (because matt began knocking on the door, complaining about how long you’d taken to piss) and ask her to finish her tell-all over lunch. she of course agreed and texted you the location of her favorite ramen place along with: “tell your roomie andrea that she can come with i wanna see u bothhhh!”

she’s spent the last half hour detailing the total princess treatment she’d experienced from a guy she met at her stop in london. “yeah, too bad i won’t see him again,” she pouts.

“you didn’t get his phone number that entire time?” you ask, fiddling with the chopsticks in your hand.

“oh of course i did, i just won’t be using it,” asha laughs and tucks a piece of her dark curled hair behind her ear. “it was nice while it lasted but i’m definitely not trying to deal with the hassle that comes with dating anyone right now,” she shrugs.

“you’re so bad!” andrea shakes her head and giggles, "but you know what, i get it."

asha hides her laugh by guiding noodles towards her mouth.

your phone buzzes softly against the counter and lights up, showing off a new text message from your mom, but more importantly your lock screen wallpaper displaying a sleepy figaro on your chest.

asha squeals through her chews as you pick up your phone to decide whether you’ll confront or procrastinate the text message (that will most likely sour your mood). andrea’s eyes widen at the girl as asha finishes up and starts to explain, “who’s cat is that?!” her acrylic nail taps against the table.

“oh, it’s ours,” you peer over your phone, deciding you’d rather not answer your mom’s text (she's asking how degree-related job searching has been, again).

“what?!”

“oh yes, he's my babyyy,” andrea coos while unlocking her phone to show off the many photos, “his name is figaro-.”

asha swipes through the phone in awe, “and when the fuck did this happen?”

“like a few weeks ago, i wanna say…” you turn to look at andrea while trying to remember.

“i’m coming over way more now. oh my god.” she gushes over the many photos of the playful black kitten before returning andrea’s phone.

“please do, it felt like you were gone for so long.” you whine out the beg before taking another sip of the warm broth.

asha sighs (in a way that causes her lips to flutter a little), “i know, i miss hanging out with my friends!”

“and we miss you! your ass is always traveling somewhere we have to soak up all your LA time while we can,” you joke.

the two laugh along with you, “i think i’ll be here for a while…not until like, my birthday.” asha thinks through her schedule and her mouth widens at the thought of her birthday, “oh my god! i forgot to tell you- mostly because it’s kinda far out? so, the past four years i’ve hosted trips for my birthday in late november... and i want you two to come this year!”

your eyes widen in excitement and your mouth is full of noodles, keeping you from letting out the loud 'yes' you wanted to. so andrea answers for the both of you, “well of course, we’ll come!”

asha’s face can’t possibly be stretched further with happiness as she celebrates, “yay, this’ll be so fun! you’ll get to meet some of my girlfriends and f’course the boys will be there so you’ll know a few people already!”

“and where are we going?” you ask with big, curious eyes.

“hawaii!"

౨ৎ

a distinct berry shade drips over the room in full swoops as the leaving sun peeks through matt's curtains ever so gently. your lips are now almost the same shade of the woven fabric, especially after enduring matt's undying and bitter kisses.

you hear him breathe a soft laugh, finding your body's limp, laid-out position to be straight out of an erotic femme painting: right leg and arm stretched above and below you, left arm above your waist to cradle your tits, and left leg bent and falling over the opposing leg.

you turn your head when you recognize his return, whispering, "hey."

matt’s bed dips accordingly when he lowers himself next to you, fixated on your still-exposed silhouette that hosts a few deep hickeys (he’s recently taken a liking to giving you them, his ego gains a small ignition at the thought of him placing them only where he gets to see), rather than your observant eyes.

he finds one he’d kissed into the skin under your printed hello kitty, leaning closer to lick and suckle at it more. you squirm and push his head away with a whine of his name.

he chuckles and moves his hair from his face, “put some fuckin’ clothes on then.” he lays your sweatshirt and panties, he gathered on his way back to you, against your chest.

you lift yourself easily, though a sleepy yawn still makes its way to you as you fit into the hoodie. matt shifts himself to slouch against his headboard. you finish your redressing before moving yourself higher on his bed as well.

matt thinks your phone screen is severely bright and headache-inducing but he doesn't complain as he normally would, instead he's more focused on balancing his joint-rolling necessities atop his wife beater clad torso.

you pay no attention to him as you exchange texts with remi:

REMI - 6:43 PM

OMFG

REMI

this guy im friends w thinks i should set you up on a blind date with a guy he knows :D

REMI

HE JUST SHOWED ME A PIC AND ... fuck

REMI

PLS SAY YOULL DO IT

REMI

u deserve a nice date night

Y/N - 8:36 PM

hi WHATTT

Y/N

idk rem😭😭

REMI

ABOUT TIME U RESPONDED HELLO

REMI

rlly you dont wanna??

Y/N

ill have to think about it

you sigh while turning off your phone, moving your body to better face matt, who's hands work to add the potent plant into his detailed silver grinder. there's obviously no need for you to stay in his bed or hang around for any longer, but as of late you both aren't necessarily itching to kick the other out as soon as clothes are back on.

"i wanna learn," you declare as you sit up more, looking down at his slouched figure.

"to roll?" he asks pausing his smooth routine and licking over his lips expectantly.

"yeah," you move your hoodie’s long sleeve cuffs away from the lower half of your palm, showing him your dedication and anticipation.

matt smirks and continues to zip the plastic bag once more, shaking his head.

"what? why not, matt?" you pout.

“because i’m already good at it,” he shrugs, “you can smoke with me but you don’t have to be the one to roll.”

“‘kay, whatever. i’ll just get someone else to teach me then, like chris or lucas or somethin’” stretching as you collapse back onto his bed and bury your face in the crook of your arm. when matt does nothing to pull you out of your dramatic fit, you decide to mess with him further, grabbing his phone from its place near his thigh and rolling over so that you lie on the plush of your stomach.

you pretend to type (actually just tapping against his uncharacteristically soft lockscreen, displaying a vintage looking photo of a woman you’d only assume to be his mother) then putting the phone up to your ear, mimicking the ring with a burring noise in your throat. “hey lucas! yeah it's me, matt never gave me your number! i know. that is really selfish and unfair!” you nod along while staring at matt who thinks you look and sound so stupid that it’s kind of cute.

you twirl your hair and bite your lip, really getting into character, “you're right, he is the worst. he won’t even let me roll up with him! but that’s fine, i think i may just need someone more skilled and sexy like you to hel-”

matt taps your barely covered ass harder than he intends to, shocking you in the best way. “alright, stop fuckin’ around and pay attention ‘cause i’m not repeating myself,” he softly demands, gesturing you to sit up with his fingers.

"ow!" you rub at the spot and roll your eyes in faux irritation, fighting the urge to smile now that you've successfully recaptured matt's attention and can still feel the heat of his hand on your ass. you try to give yourself grace in moments like this but you can't help but reflect and feel a bit pathetic when having a crush on someone like matt.

matt, who would never take a relationship further than casual sex and unserious after-sex smoke sessions, especially not with you.

"shh. come here, bruh" he hushes you and you obey, shifting to sit next to him, reflecting his bent position. "'kay," he hands you the grinder, mumbling, "take a look," as he grabs one of the natural hemp rolling papers and places the packaging on his nightstand.

you open the silver lid gently, eyes widening slightly and impressed with the dollops of finely crushed weed laying in the container. "how much do you use?"

"all of it," your head practically snaps over to look at him and he sighs, "y/n, it's like half a gram."

you fight the urge to dip your index finger in the crowd of weed and move it around, "still looks like kind of a lot."

"well, it's not," he shakes his head and adjusts his shoulders. "now you're gonna take some in your fingers and place it in this paper," he taps your distracted arm with his hand to bring your attention to the rolling paper he has curled slightly around his thumb. as you begin to take a hold of some of the substance he warns, "and don't do too much at once- i don't need you spillin' any on us or my bed."

"you're such a diva," you huff and softly sprinkle the weed into the wrapper he's holding.

once it's full enough matt shows you how his fingers guide the paper and fold it into its proper joint shape. he moves his hand towards your mouth, "now you gotta lick and seal it." you inch closer, hesitantly peeking your tongue out just a little to lick at the small flap. "okay, you need more than that baby-ass lick. but don't over-do the spit 'cause that'll fuck it up too," he eyes your mouth when you expose more of your tongue, successfully sealing the joint (with matt's guidance).

he finishes off the end of the joint before presenting it to you, "voilà," matt fiddles with the joint in front of your face before you boldly grab it from his hands.

you immediately encourage him with a wave of your fingers, "gimme that lighter, please."

he's slightly impressed with your sudden confidence and adjusts himself (removing the remaining items from his lower stomach, including the lighter you ask for) and reaches over to light it for you.

matt's lip falls between his teeth due to natural anticipation. the sharp, orange hue sparks to life and you gain a shyness as he approaches the joint in your mouth with it. suddenly your fingers take it away from your mouth as you whisper, "wait, matt."

matt dramatically throws his arm down, "yeah?"

"i don't actually know how to do this," a smile spreads across your face when you see matt's mouth slightly ajar and eyes disengaged.

"seriously? you started talkin' like you've at least smoked a couple times."

you hold a laugh in, "well like, i wanna try it. you just have to tell me what to do..."

"inhale the shit," matt gestures his hands, "hold in your lungs, blow it out. it's simple as fuck," he points to your hand holding the joint, "let's see it."

you deadpan, "you're so unhelpful," you shake your head and place it back in your mouth, "just light me up."

he rolls his eyes as his hand moves back up to you, you lean into the flame and immediately inhale as it comes to life in your mouth.

matt just smirks from next to you, amused at your attempt. you focus on holding it in your lungs and close your eyes as you exhale. the smoke exits smoothly and surrounds your head, when you open your eyes you immediately look over to matt who laughs when he sees a cough brewing in your lungs. you push his shoulder just as you begin a small coughing fit.

he goes to grab the joint from your hand but you raise it away, finishing your cough and putting it back into your mouth to taste the odd plant flavor again.

matt's laugh is still there just died down, "who the fuck are you?! 'just light me up' and then here you go actin' like you own shit." he points a finger at you with his eyes big and playful.

you smirk sarcastically, and your eyes crinkle in the softest way, when you lean closer to him in response, blowing smoke in his face.

౨ৎ

"so why're nick and chris staying so late at the warehouse?" you ask and play with the strings of your hoodie.

matt draws lines across your inner thigh with his fingers, "it's nick's month to do inventory and chris bought some crazy wall art shit he had to finish setting up-"

"you're not gonna help them?"

"oh yeah sweetheart, i'll actually go there right now and help them out." his eyes are so dewy and red you find yourself excusing his annoying sarcasm and instead wanting to kiss him and his puffy eyelids and his flushed cheeks, especially when you're sat on top of him like this.

"still, they probably wanted you around," you explain.

"why do you care so much about shit that doesn't involve you? i left them and invited you over so you should be happy." his voice eases his delivery to not come across so harshly while his eyes squint a little.

"you're right, s'not really my place to have a take on y'all's dynamic." you shrug and feel as his hands stop running over your thighs and instead squeeze harshly as he looks in your eyes.

"mmm, thank you for telling me i'm right," he smiles and leans forward to give your jaw a kiss with his wet, pink lips, "say it again and i'll be fully hard."

"you're a dog," you laugh as he pulls away. "what'd you do today?" you whisper, ignoring the sensation that comes with him feeling up your lower half.

"guess." he blinks slowly.

"mmm... i don't know. you tattooed some people, fucked me, made fun of me, smoked..." you list off on each of your fingers.

he nods along as you list each, making different facial expressions depending on the task. "those are all definitely things i did.."

"did you eat?"

"i mean, yeah...ish." he rubs his eyes and his mouth begins to curve slightly, knowing your next sentiment well enough he could say it with you.

as if on queue, you prompt him with a question that tends to come up quite often when the two of you finish fucking, "can we get food?"

౨ৎ

the doorbell of matt's shared townhome rings through the house as the two of you giddily stand near the door, "3, 2, 1.." you count through giggles before opening the door and facing the young man dressed head to toe in papa johns gear.

"oh. my. god!" you exclaim in a ridiculous country accent, "baby come here, they sent a man to sell us insurance or somethin'!" you call out and pinch your eyebrows.

before the man can get a word in matt comes into frame, cowboy hat in tow and his mocking accent deeper yet identical to your own, "now who 'den sent you here to harass my woman? huh?" he holds a tooth pick in his mouth and squints his eyes. "and how much would i owe to have whatever you got in them boxes, son?" he points and you try not to laugh from behind him.

"uh, it's just a pizza delivery that was ordered to this address, sir..." he looks around, checking the numbers displayed next to the door once more.

you peek your head back in, "you know what, charles, it was probably little john, you know he's always orderin' that amy-zun and what not from that tablet!"

"mmm..." matt pretends to think and not laugh as he holds onto a fake belt around his black sweatpants, "my lady's right," he cracks a smile, "you know how the kids get," he tuts and gestures to the man again while pulling out his wallet, "i owe you?"

"only $12.57."

"right," matt grabs a few bills and whistles, "wife, come grab this box for little john would you?" he hands the money over as you reach for the pizza box, "keep the change, boy." he tilts his hat in dismissal and as soon as the door is shut matt's falling to the floor with laughter as you laugh and place the pizza box down, screaming about how close you are to pissing yourself.

౨ৎ

"asha told me about her birthday trip in november," you say, licking your lips of excess pizza sauce.

matt nods and swallows to respond while wiping his mouth, "yeah she does that shit every year."

you adjust yourself on the bed and grab another slice of the cheese pizza in between you two. "it sounds fun, i'm excited," you say before taking a bite.

"yeah, it's usually fun. usually." he laughs.

"meaning?"

"last year in mexico nick almost fist fought asha's boyfriend because he was bein' shitty to her on her birthday. it was a fuckin' brawl everyday of that trip, i swear."

"damn."

"yeah. but don't trip, asha's not letting anything ruin her birthday this time, she loves herself too much to do that." he rolls his eyes in endearment towards his friend.

"well, how about you? your birthday's next weekend.."

matt shakes his head and looks to the side for a moment, "we always struggle to figure out what we're doing for our birthday. the three of us wanna spend that time together but chris wants a party, nick wants a small get together with games, and i'd want a lowkey dinner or something."

"you could always do all of the ideas but on different days."

"that drags it too much, we'll most likely host a party like we did last year, chris will probably nag us enough to make us give up." matt shrugs and takes a bite of his slice.

"well, i'll be at whatever you decide to do," you smile.

"oh will you now?" his eyebrows lift for just a moment in humor.

"well duh."

"and who's inviting you? cause it won't be me," he smiles and stuffs his mouth again right as you push his shoulder and laugh off his bad joke.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list (ily):

@rootbeerworshiper @deadxrx @breeloveschris @saintsturn @honestlybabymiracle @hearts4chris @starrysturniolo @blissfulbellss @aoxash @st7rnioioss @blondiesjailer @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @sturnioloa @thinkingabkinkyshit101 @tcvazq @novasturniolo03 @imaslutforwhitemen @trinity2058 @taking-a-footnote-in-your-life @1horrormoviewhore1 @keira324 @st7rnioioss

@whicked-hazlatwhore @matthewsturnioloswifey @mayhem-72

[mandomover]

The Rookie

Chapter Nineteen - The Questioning

Noonan tries to get answers from you. And Murphy stirs the pot while you try and make sense of your life and feelings.

Warnings: swearing, smoking

Words: 4200ish

Next | Masterlist

A/n: Okayyyyyy I’m sorry, it’s been months. In my defence, I’ve been growing a tiny human and I work 12hours then sleep the other 12 before I do it all again so forgive me. I’ll try to be better I swear. But enjoy fwends! Comments and reblogs and asks and messages are always appreciated 😘🙏🏼

You sigh as you tap your pen against the wood top of the desk, throwing it down and leaning back in your chair.

"I'm bored."

Javi smirks but doesn't look up from his hunched over position over his satellite map of some of the comunas.

“Count yourself lucky that we’re allowed to do this.”

You huff audibly and rock in your chair, causing it to squeak, the sound bouncing off the walls irritatingly.

You can see a vein pulse on Javi’s neck and you grin, childishly pushing him to see how far he will go before he breaks. You change your pace of rocking so the squeak changes with it and the vein continues to pulse.

“Wanna get lunch?” you ask a minute later as your stomach growls loudly.

“No,” he snaps, slamming a fist on the map. You stop moving, watching him with a wary smile.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, finally looking up and grinning himself when he notices your sly grin too. He throws a pen at you, catching on to your antics and you catch it deftly and throw it back at him. He side steps it and it clatters against the wall as he barks, “you have terrible aim for an agent.”

You shrug and resume your squeaky rocking, eliciting a roll of Javi’s eyes as he picks up the pen and turns back to pore over the map.

“Gimmie ten minutes to track this path then we’ll go grab something, alright?”

“Deal.”

You watch him plotting as you ponder the past week and how much has changed, without anything really changing at all.

It has been eight days since Natalie and her friend were killed by Escobar’s sicarios, and while trying to stay far away from it to save your own necks, you learnt through others in the office that their deaths had been written off as ‘gang-related’ leaving you in the clear. It was a quick hush hush because Escobar had decided to kidnap members of influential families in the hopes that he would use the hostages as leverage, including the former president's daughter Diana, to encourage negotiations. It was non-stop and you couldn’t help but feel guilty for what happened to Natalie, but no good would or could come from you owning up to going against the ambassador's wishes and involving yourself in something you had no right to involve yourself in. Javi had talked you out of owning up, convincing you worse would happen if you did and nobody needed the hassle right now. Especially if Murphy was dragged into things.

Murphy hadn’t returned to work, citing parental leave after Connie had ‘bonded with a patient who happened to be an orphaned baby and needed an urgent foster placement.’ They were trying to adopt her legally using their good standing within government circles.

Murphy was due to have come in for a meeting this morning with Noonan, but you hadn’t heard how it went, and although you had an inkling what it could be about, until you were told otherwise, you wouldn’t stress yourself over it.

You had turned over a new leaf and decided to eliminate stress from your life. It sounded funny; eliminate stress from your life when your life was nothing but stress, but the stress you could control; you would.

You and Javi had spoken at length the night after you rescued Olivia, as Murphy had told you she was called, and you had talked over cigarettes and alcohol, using the crutches you knew best. You had aligned your goals, talked about what you wanted out of Columbia and where you might go from it, and Javi had opened up too.

You had fallen asleep on his couch, the recent events taking a toll on your body, and woke when you felt him lift you deftly and carry you into his bedroom, setting you down gently on top the mattress and covering you with a blanket before he had turned to go.

“Javi?” you whispered.

He froze, silhouette framed against the hall light.

“Stay with me.”

He didn’t move, and your bleary eyes blinked stupidly as you waited for a response.

“Are you sure?” he said eventually.

Javi’s own words echo in your mind.

‘Life’s too short to give a shit, especially this fucked up life we live in Columbia.’

“C’mere,” you mumbled, patting the empty side of the bed, rolling over to give him room. You closed your eyes sleepily but you could hear him stripping off his shirt and out of his jeans and sliding under the blanket next to you. You murmured when his cool skin touched yours, and he pulled you into his arms, your warm skin slowly warming his, and that’s where you slept peacefully all night, waking up the following morning, both in the same position.

Even Javi agreed he got better nights’ sleep when you were there with him. You certainly couldn’t deny it, no longer requiring makeup to cover up the heavy bags under your eyes, and that was only after spending two nights together. So when Javi asked you to stay the next night after work, it made sense, cozy and safe in each other’s arms, just to help you both sleep. The next night after that, you had met him at his desk, arriving with your purse and a purpose and he just looked at you, boyish grin lighting up his face.

You didn’t know what you were doing. You thought there might be more than platonic feelings in the mix but you’ve been there before where you’ve assumed something only to be rebuffed and been the butt of the joke for too long. You’ve also had your fair share of hurt. So you weren’t assuming anything, just eager to spend time with your friend now you were friends again, even if the lines were beginning to blur a bit. A lot of what Murphy ever told you, hushed conversations and cryptic comments started to make sense now, as you spent every waking (and sleeping) moment with Javi. You weren’t quite ready to open Pandora’s box and question how you felt; this simple solution came at the right time. It was easy.

You had expected more of a conversation after that day based on what Javi had said on the phone but only your deep conversation about everything but your relationship was talked about the day after. Javi was eager and pleasing, as if he had missed you as much as you had missed him the past few weeks and willing to do whatever it took to keep you as close to him as you wanted him as close to you. It was a different Javi you saw, to what everybody else seemed to know and think about him, so you didn’t push it beyond that and he didn’t push you, but the playing field was definitely open with no clear boundary in sight.

He didn’t question your impromptu kiss and you were glad, unsure as to even why you had felt like it was a good idea. But Javi never pushed you. So you sealed and locked the emotions and thoughts you knew you should really explore and understand, at least for your own sake, let alone dragging Javi into your messy mind, and pretended like the slate was clean and fresh each day.

So for the last eight nights you’ve spent them in Javi’s apartment, stealing all of Javi’s old T-shirts and sweatpants before returning home to quickly shower and change before another day at work.

You were enjoying it. The cathartic rhythm of what was expected of you, and what you knew you could give, side by side with Javi. But of course your mind liked to remind you at the worst times; it wouldn’t last forever. A niggle of guilt and doubt in a meeting, just as you fell asleep, sitting in Javi’s apartment with a cool beer in your hands.

You would have to open that box sooner or later. But as long as you took each day as it came you would be fine.

The stress built up when you put too much pressure on yourself and you swore, no more pressure.

You snap your eyes up when Javi tosses the pen onto the desk and stalks round to you, pulling you away from the back of the chair so he can more easily lift his jacket from its station there. He holds out a hand, pulling you to your feet and patting himself down searching for his packet of cigarettes and lighter. He lights one, handing it to you, and you inhale deeply, lungs burning with the nicotine before he lights his own.

Just as you reach the doors to the stairwell you hear your names called from across the office behind you and turn to see Noonan’s assistant, hair piled high on her head stepping quickly towards you, a thick yellowing folder tucked under her arm.

“Your presence is required with ma’am.”

“Is it about Murphy?”

The tired assistant avoids your eyes but points in the direction of Noonan’s office. You look at Javi, brow raised questioningly, but he is watching the assistant with a stoic expression. He gestures at the assistant and sighs, flicking ash from the cigarette onto the dank and dusty carpet below.

“Lunch can wait then,” he murmurs apologetically at you and you follow them through the office toward the more formal area reserved for Noonan.

You weren’t expected at a meeting so you’re not too sure why you’ve been summoned and neither by the looks of it does Javi, brow furrowed and smoking angrily as he huffs through the corridors.

You reach her office and settle into the sofa outside the door, watching Javi from your peripherals as he fidgets in the seat beside you. His shoulders are taut and you can tell he’s nervous, giving himself away with his slender fingers tapping irrhythmically on his knee.

The phone rings on the desk and you jerk slightly, looking to the assistant who comes back round the desk to open Noonan’s door.

You hold your head high and march right past her, crossing Noonan’s office briskly with Javi hot on your heels.

Murphy is there, his back to you, but you can see he’s slumped in his chair, surely not a good sign and you turn to Noonan as you approach the desk, her tight lipped expression giving nothing away.

“Ma’am,” you address curtly, as you reach the chair by the desk, flattening flyaway hairs down against your head in an attempt to make yourself more presentable, as you take a seat, Javi flopping into the one on your right.

“So,” Noonan starts carefully once her assistant has closed the door behind her. “You know why you’ve been asked to see me?”

You shrug, hoping Javi takes the lead on this one as you play dumb.

“Why has Murphy here been MIA for the past week or so?”

“Personal business?” you query, lifting your gaze to meet Noonan’s briefly. You feel defiant, not willing to give anything away or jeopardize Murphy in any way where Olivia is concerned.

She purses her lips, wrinkly lines around her mouth giving the impression she’s sucking on a sour lemon.

“What might that personal business be?”

Your eyes shoot to Murphy, but his eyes are trained firmly on his knees, fingers clasped tightly together in his lap.

You swallow, clearing your throat before you answer to buy yourself a bit of time.

“Murphy and his wife are hoping to adopt a child Connie came into contact with in work who needs someone to care for her.”

Noonan looks at you, green eyes piercing yours and you squirm under her gaze.

“Why this child? Surely she sees lots of orphaned children in her line of work?”

“Not sure ma’am.”

She leans back in her chair and you steal a glimpse at Javi, who’s ears are tinged with pink and is staring hard at the wall.

“My phone has been very quiet this past week.”

“Surely that’s a good sign,” Javi says, sitting up a little straighter in his seat.

“Oh not like that. I was getting three calls a day about how annoyed you were to be sidelined in your job then they stopped all of a sudden, why might that be?”

She squints at you, and you blush, opening your mouth to come up with an answer but Javi speaks for you.

“We spoke at length about how we just need to do what we’re told and she needs to follow orders.”

You smile, nodding lightly in agreement, hoping you look more convincing than you feel.

“You and I both know Agent Peña, that you of all people do not take orders well,” Noonan snaps, rising up quickly from her chair and leaning onto the desk and glaring at Javi. “And she,” Noonan rounds on you, icy stare and a long pointed finger in your direction, “seems to be led by example.”

Your eyes widen and you turn to Javi slowly, but he is looking at Noonan with a cool air of dismissal, before completely changing his tone and smiling brightly, “Just following orders.”

You inhale deeply, stomach tightening at the tense interactions.

“Where were you on Wednesday the fourth? There was an interdepartmental meeting that all three of you deemed not important enough to grace your presence with.”

“Lots of tip calls,” Javi retorts breezily.

Noonan sighs, sitting again and pulls two folders from her desk drawer. She places one in front of her, the bright coat of arms stamp emblazoned on the cover and slides the other one towards Murphy. You take a quick look at the folder in front of him, and notice the title of ‘Administration for Children and Families’ on the top.

Noonan flips the folder in front of her open nonchalantly, spinning it towards you when she rifles through it to find what she is looking for.

“Who are they?” She points at two pictures side by side, one of Jaime, a crisp copy of an older, worn image, but unmistakeably Jaime, and the other a crime scene photo, tape and evidence markers surrounding blood spatters and bullet wounds, but still unmistakably Natalie.

Your stomach turns and you swallow uneasily, wanting to avoid the grotesque image but you can’t look away, Natalie’s lifeless eyes staring out of the photo at you.

Javi pulls the folder closer, pretending to inspect the images carefully before he answers, tossing the folder back on the desk carelessly.

“Dunno who the girl is but that’s Jaime Carrera, the trafficker Escobar planted on the Avianca flight 203.”

Noonan takes a second to study both you and Javi and you try to make your expression as neutral as possible to not give yourself away.

“No idea who that is?” she points at Natalie, pulling the folder back towards her side of the desk.

You shake your head, trying to appear disappointed that you can’t answer her question.

“Natalie Carrera. Jaime’s wife.”

You nod, accepting the news of who this unknown person is with an interested detachment, and you’re almost proud of your acting ability.

“So they’re both dead now. They had a daughter, Marcela Carrela. About eight months. Not sure where she is.”

“Oh?”

“Hmm, very interesting, Natalie’s death was called in to the tip line on Wednesday night from an anonymous source and when the officers investigated they found Natalie and another girl there, but no baby. Where could she be?”

“Oh that’s a funny one ma’am, maybe she got away.”

“Oh yes, that baby took herself out of that situation for her own protection did she?” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Your cheeks burn but say nothing more, scared to give yourself away. You watch as Noonan pulls a stamp pad from her open desk drawer and pushes it into the dripping red ink, before trailing it across the pictures to stamp on each of them. A big and bold ‘deceased’ block appears on each image and Noonan quickly flicks through pages to pull a death certificate out.

“Jaime has been signed off as ‘accidental death’, despite us knowing his involvement in bringing the plane down but what about his poor wife? They’ve signed her off as ‘gang related death’ but is that the real story?”

“I suppose we have no real way of knowing ma’am, we get lots of tips like this to scenes like that where there’s no evidence to suggest anything other than ‘gang related death’.”

“Hmm. So are you willing to put your jobs down on the fact that she’s just another random ‘gang related death’ in this system?”

You swallow again, a lump forming in your throat at the brutal and unfair ending Natalie suffered but say nothing.

“Ok,” Noonan says simply, signing an additional sheet of paper with a flourish and tucking them both back into the folder, placing it back into her drawer.

“That brings me to you Murphy.”

The room rounds on Murphy and he sits up in his chair, pulling his shoulder back and looks at Noonan with his chin jutting out as she leans forward to pull the ACF folder closer to her.

“You want me to sign off on a United States adoption of an unknown and unclaimed eight month old Colombian girl who happened to come in to your wife’s care in the hospital on Thursday morning?”

Noonan is laying out all the pieces of the puzzle but no one is putting them together, making for one of the most unpleasant meetings you’ve attended in quite a while. As long as no one says anything, this can all be over and you can go back to being happy with your life and your situation with Javi and boredom in the office in no time. Hell, you’ll take the boredom. You swear you won’t complain to Noonan about being sidelined ever again, as long as you get through this unscathed.

The room is quiet, Murphy’s low huffs of breath the only sound.

No one answers her and she sighs, making you shuffle uncomfortably in your seat.

“I don’t need to remind any of you what this could mean if the DEA were to be involved.”

“They’re not,” Murphy says boldly and you and Javi both roll your heads round to peer at him finally saying something, even though neither you nor Javi have said much in this meeting.

“Very well then,” she says with another dramatic sigh, pulling a page from the green folder out and signing it with a flourish as well. “Murphy take that to admin and HR on your way and we’ll see you back here in another three days. Congratulations dad.”

She hands him the folder and he stands, making to exit, his expression unreadable. You take that as your cue and you rise quickly, wanting to be out of there and get a chance to talk and congratulate Murphy yourself. You give him a brief squeeze on his elbow as you move quickly towards the door when you halt, Noonan calling yours and Javi’s names.

“Do anything like this again and I swear, there’ll be consequences not even I can protect you from.”

She’s looking at you intensely, brows knit together, but it’s not a cold glare. Just one of warning, and you vow to be more diligent and careful in the future so this never has to happen again. You’ve gotten away with it this time when the outcome could have been so different, and you’ll not take that for granted, thanking Noonan quietly as you step out the office door before Murphy and Javi.

Murphy settles himself against the desk lip, crossing his arms over his chest and crossing his ankles loosely, while you sink into your desk chair with a sigh. Javi leans over your desk on his fists, looking between you and Murphy.

“Well that was fucking horrible.”

“How do you think I felt?” Murphy protests. “I had that for a solid hour before she brought you guys in.”

“We’re off the hook,” Javi interjects, holding a palm up to silence you. “Noonan said herself DEA aren’t involved, even if she suspects something, without us saying anything, there’s no evidence.”

You nod in silent agreement, pursing your lips. It seems suspiciously easy, Noonan brushing it all under the carpet when you know she knows. All you got was a fair warning but it seems too weak in your line of work so you don’t know whether to trust that that really is the end or not.

“No stress, remember?”

“Huh?” You focus on Javi, looking at him quizzically as you zone back into your space, and his soft brown eyes are on you and a gentle hand squeezing your shoulder.

“I can see you thinking about it. Forget it; it’s done. No point thinking about it anymore.”

You swat at him and roll your eyes playfully, as he moves to pull two cigarettes from his breast pocket, grateful he’s always on hand to keep you grounded when you aren’t always the most helpful to yourself. You smile in thanks at him when he hands you one and Murphy clears his throat. You glance at him and go beetroot at the appraising look he’s sharing between you and Javi.

“Sorted yourselves out then?”

“Yeah, we came to an amicable agreement.”

Murphy eyes you both surreptitiously, eyes narrowing as neither of you respond. Eventually, Murphy spits, “Amicable? That’s a funny way of saying you’ve been sleeping together.”

“We aren’t sleeping together!” you exclaim loudly, blood roaring and rising on your face quickly, waving your hands at Murphy as Javi shakes his head and says much quieter than you, “it’s not like that.”

Murphy cocks an eyebrow and looks between you both again, a cocky grin spreading across his pale face as your face burns with a fiery heat.

“You know I live below you and can hear and see you both leaving together every morning?”

“It’s honestly not like that Steve,” Javi insists and you nod fervently.

“It’s not. We made up, but we’re just-”

Well, what are you?

Now, is a perfect example of when the guilt and doubt creeps in, questioning if you even know anymore what you are.

You’ve been sleeping in the same bed, enjoying each other’s company with rare moments apart, and you don’t wish to be apart from him, miserable when you were the one giving him the cold shoulder. Surely that’s more than friendship, and seems a bit unfair to say as much to Murphy when you know it’s more than that. But that would open a drawer you don’t think you’re emotionally ready to open, and sometimes you just can’t dig too deeply for fear of what you’ll find. Not here, and not now anyway.

You suck a deep drag and look at Javi in bewilderment and he answers for you, watching you carefully as he speaks.

“We’re just good friends, who’ve been through a lot together and are helping each other out in a lot of ways.”

Oh fuck, he gets it. He knows you don’t know what you are and that’s the most unfair thing of all, after everything he’s ever done for you and told you, and what you’ve explicitly told him, and now you have no idea, other than knowing you don’t think you could breathe on your own if you didn’t have him by your side.

Fuck.

“Ok,” Murphy drawls, slapping the desk with the folder he’s picked back up and rises from the desk edge with an unconcerned shrug. “Whatever you say.”

Javi is still watching you, cigarette dangling from his pursed lips, and you lick your lips as you watch them pucker round the cigarette, face still burning from Murphy’s comments.

“Well now that this is all gonna be official, it’s time to celebrate,” Murphy booms, breaking the awkward silence. “Wanna come over for some dinner and drinks tonight? Come to ours for say, eight by the time Connie gets dinner cooked and Olivia down?”

He glances at his wrist watch and looks expectantly at you with his eyebrows raised in question.

You smile, a genuine smile, and relax yourself, knowing the drawer is closed for the time being and you think of the great time you know you’ll have at the Murphy’s with Connie’s cooking and getting to hear all about how Olivia has been settling in to her new life.

“Sure, I’ll be there.”

“I’ll be over a little later, I have a meeting,” Javi mumbles, scratching at his jaw.

“With who?” you demand. You don’t have any meetings planned, especially in the evening.

“Don’t worry about it Rookie. Just need to speak to someone who might have some intel. I’ll be there.”

You squint at Javi, the first time he’s mentioned meeting anyone who could help with intel, and god knows you haven’t been out of each other’s sights for more than five minutes the past week or so to even discuss gaining intel from anyone without the other one knowing.

Javi is pointedly looking anywhere but at you, so you scrutinize him, willing him to look at you and tell you who he’s meeting.

“Steve, I’ll walk you up to admin, Rookie, I’ll see you at Murphy's later.”

And with that the two men walk away from the desks, Murphy giving you a wave and a wink over his shoulder leaving you sitting on your own to contemplate who Javi could be meeting and how you really feel about him if you can convince yourself to be honest to yourself in any way at all.

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[clarenecessities]

3/18/2022

so on our minecraft server, since cheats are disabled, you can like. you can request A Ritual to accomplish something, which will require an appropriate sacrifice. like neo wanted to hollow out his basement so he had to provide a certain number of diamonds and some other shit & a live deer.

but i have been building a village, Boyne, and yesterady i decided i was finally ready to change the biome for it (so the villagers i eventually bargain for will be appropriately dressed). and it was decided that my quest was to hunt and kill a great white bear, Nechtan, to “the south”. so i was like hmm. that sounds familiar kind of, i probably read about it while i was doing my bear research.

i set out into the world, and ~3000 blocks south and some bad directions from hollis later, i found him.

but get this.

since there are world borders up, i filled out my map ages ago, right? and i had scoped out the whole world to find a spruce forest that would be more appropriate for Boyg. and there’s this one little island, nestled between two villages, that i could Just See building a castle on.

but i had already created a lot of infrastructure so it would have been a hassle to move, and it’s right next to an underwater temple and i didn’t want to deal with Drowned all the time.

guess where they spawned that magic bear.

out of all of the chunks in all the world, they chose this like 40x50 block island at the polar opposite end of my home, which i had considered settling.

but it gets getter!

when i returned to Boyne, thrilled with my properly-tinted grass, i realized that it wasn’t just a “white” bear, it was a kermode bear. i was heartbroken bc i am morally opposed to killing Those bears, Specifically, although it’s possible i’ve only told neo this of our friend group as he is the one who tried to drag me along on a hunt in RDO for one. so i was like Why friends. WHyw did you do this to me

but as i went to continue building the wall i’m making to keep my eventual townsfolk in, i found her

another kermode bear, nametagged so she won’t despawn, living peacefully among my hills, named Boann. which is incredible for several reasons. one, it’s the goddess of the river Boyne, which like, heart emoji. two, said goddess was (sometimes) married to Nechtan, so like, lol. i did recognize the name. and three, w my accent it’s pronounced Bone, like. she’s white. and boann is ‘white cow’ anyway and. do you get it you guys

i teared up a little ngl. i love my bear & i love my friends & our gay little adventures. it was a very happy st patrick’s day

[sickficsies-and-whumpsies]

Hello! may I ask sick kawanishi taichi? because it's actually hard to find his version :"D. He gets his hay fever acting up in class all day and causes a fever and headache. Shirabu take care of him since they're classmates and he looks horrible. Thank you!

Hello!! Now that I think about it, I've never even read Kawanishi content, poor guy. I hope this is similar to what you had in mind~

TW: headache, hay fever, coughing & sneezing.

1.1k words, Gen.

ーーー

The voice of his Chemistry teacher blabbering about the TCA cycle almost lulls him to sleep. His head rests propped up on his hands, elbow on the hard, uncomfortable desk as he blinks, trying to make out whatever's being written on the blackboard. Kawanishi has only taken notes for the first ten minutes of the lecture, before entirely giving up.

His head has been pounding without giving him a break since the previous night, and out of the usual seven hours of sleep he normally gets, he's sure he hasn't actually slept for more than three. Not well, either.

Kawanishi slowly moves his hands to the sides of his head, palms flat on his ears that ache and throb. He hisses under his breath, sniffling, eyes watery.

The room keeps spinning, and his eyelids feel heavy and sore. The ache in his head, ears and chest drowns out everything else.

He doesn't even notice how Shirabu's staring at him from his desk. The setter eyes his friend carefully, and rapidly notices his puffy eyes and his cloth tissue crumpled and indubitably damp with snot.

He returns his attention to the lesson, but not long passes before he's startled by a stifled cough coming from the back of the classroom. Most of his classmates, and even the teacher, only glance at the source of the noise for a split second before going on with their duties.

Yet, Shirabu can't pry his gaze from Kawanishi, who looks more and more in agony with each passing instant. Although he isn't familiar with allergies himself, it's not hard to identify the symptoms.

Headache, runny nose, cough, and tiredness, from the looks of it. He doesn't envy him one bit.

Shirabu recalls that Kawanishi has mentioned being on antihistamine medications, but it doesn't seem that the boy has taken them before coming to school.

"Shirabu-kun!?" 

He startles, snappung around to meet his teacher's annoyed gaze. "Perhaps you should focus on the lesson. I know you can get good grades, however I believe you might learn something from this, too."

The boy nods, bowing his head slightly, cheeks tinged in red. "Y-yes sir, sorry sir!!"

Someone snickers, yet Shirabu pays no mind to anyone but Kawanishi, who's still sniffling and struggling to hold his cough.

As soon as the bell rings, marking the end of those neverending fifty minutes, Shirabu is quick to catapult himself to his friend's desk, crocuhing next to it.

Kawanishi, whose head now lays above his arms, that work as a makeshift pillow, slowly tilts his gaze towards Shirabu, cocking an eyebrow in confusion.

"Kenjirou? What're you...?"

"Did you take your meds today? The antihistamine ones." he asks, pragmatic as always. "You know your hay fever's bad, so why didn't you?"

Kawanishi looks like he's about to say something, but a wet cough cuts him off abruptly. Shirabu timidly reaches out with his hand, rubbing soothing circles on his friend's trembling back while he coughs and sputters helplessly.

The middle-blocker reaches for his water bottle with the hand that isn't pressed against his mouth, and shakes his head, regretting the action as it throbs harder.

"Why not? Did you run out?"

"C-couldn't." Kawanishi replies once the coughing fit comes to an end, "Test later. Meds make me sleepy." 

Shirabu sighs. Right, they have an English test coming up in the fifth period, he'd momentarily forgotten about it.

"Still..." he fumbles for words, "Your health is more important than a test. You look like you can't breathe."

"Th-that's because it's true." Kawanishi coughs, cheeky. Shirabu lets his shoulders sag, just a bit.

"Listen, I'll make you a deal. We still have a bit more than four hours until the test, so how about you take the meds, rest in the infirmary and come back for it later, if you're up to it?"

"W-what aboutー" a sneeze, then another, then a cough, and a groan. "M-my head, fuck..."

Shirabu doesn't even wait for his friend's final answer. He turns to a classmate, explaining the situation and asking her to warn the teacher. Then, he starts to rummage insise Kawanishi's bag, retrieving the meds, and his bottle.

"Let's go, Taichi." he calls, gentle. 

His friend slowly stands, chair screeching against the linoleum, but as soon as he's up, he sways. A hand immediately shoots for the desk, grip tight to steady himself.

Shirabu's got his other arm, a concerned look in his honey eyes.

"You good? Do you need to sit back down?"

"N-no, no, m'fine, just tired." Kawanishi hums, straightening himself. Shirabu still doesn't let go, and the two of them make their way towards the nurse's office.

The walk is painfully slow, Shirabu being forced to stop dragging Kawanishi more than once as the latter doubles over and coughs, or sneezes, or moans in agony.

"You should've stayed in bed."

"You sh-should've let a professional cut your hair."

Shirabu snorts. The fact that Kawanishi's well enough to joke around is a huge relief. Luckily, the infirmary isn't far, and the nurse is kind and quick as he allows them in, instructing Kawanishi to take off his shoes and to loosen his tie before he shows him a free bed.

Shirabu and the nurse exchange a few words, and soon the setter joins Kawanishi, handing him a pill and his water bottle. 

"Here. I told the nurse about your hay fever, but he's said he will have to check your temperature and blood pressure anyway, for safe measure. I'll be back in three hours, to see how you're doing."

Kawanishi swallows the pill. He then turns to face Shirabu, "Thanks, man. Sorry for the h- ha- the hassー" a forceful sneeze cuts him off. 

"It was no hassle. Now rest." he says, offering a kind smile before he leaves the office, Kawanishi fast asleep.

ー ー ー

Shirabu doesn't visit him three hours later. Instead, Kawanishi blinks his eyes open to the warm, tangerine sunlight filtering through the infirmary shutters, and only then he sees his friend walking towards him, his own and Kawanishi's school bags and duffel bags thrown over his shoulders.

"Oh, you're up." he chirps.

Kawanishi frowns, face hurting. "What time s'it?"

"Oh, like, 6:30PM? I let you sleep in, since the nurse said you needed to rest more. Ah, the teacher said that you can take the test once you're well, it's no problem for her." Shirabu says, nonchalantly. "I know you're mad at me for tricking you, so I'm treating you to sukiyaki."

"You think food can solve this?"

"Can't it, though?" Shirabu grins.

Kawanishi's stern expression sobers up a second later. "...I get to pick the place. And I want ice-cream later, my throat hurts."

ー ー ー

Let me know how I did with this one!! And, anon, if you have an AO3 please let me know, so that I can gift this fic to you next week!!

(August 25, 2021)

[ourneverendingpossibilities]

Amnesia (2/2)

Anime: Bleach Pairing: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques x reader Rating: M (For language and implied themes) A/N: So here’s the second part!! If I had the patience, it would’ve been one long fic like I had intended.. But my brain was not working and I wanted to post the first half.. I love when my brain does these things... Anyway, I hope you all like! Can also be found on my AO3! Merry Christmas @oi-taigaaaaa​ ! __________________

The desert sands brush against her bare skin.. Her clothing was tattered around her, and she clung to herself as if she could shield some of the pain. The mask on her face was broken in places it shouldn't have been, but she didn't have the energy to heal herself... Better yet, she couldn't, because she was currently under attack. Why couldn't she defend herself better? What kind of life did she live before becoming this...??

_____ was at a loss for words..

It wasn't until she felt another presence, one that was strong, but warm, did she even attempt to lift her head. But her eyes remained closed, scared to open in fear of what she would see... Why was she here?? Stuck in purgatory without a companion...?

"Oi.... You're not dead, are you?"

The voice, distorted but warm, oh so very warm, made ____ open her eyes.. She was greeted by another arrancar... But he was the shape of a panther... A gorgeous, beautiful panther... His muzzle was covered in blood, and she turns to look at the other creature, dead and lifeless.. Her eyes immediately return to the being in front of her, and she opens her mouth, but nothing comes out....

"Do you have a name, or am I just going to abandon you here?"

She doesn't understand why this being is interested in her, or why he feels so familiar... But she swallows the lump in her throat, letting her arm fall beside her. She feels she can let her guard down a little; he hasn't finished her off yet.

"_-____." she murmurs, meeting those fierce blue hues head on. He moves closer to her, and takes a sniff, causing ____ to flush a little.. Well, stiffen is the accurate description. "W....What are you-?"

"Good... You're not weak." he states, nudging her arm before turning around. He sits in front of her, tail swishing in the sand as he keeps an eye out for any hollows who dare attack. "Heal yourself, girl... Then eat the rest of the hollow and prove your worth to me... Otherwise, I'll kill you and devour you myself."

____ didn't understand why this... Panther hollow would want her to stay with him... But she can only nod her head, realizing he can't see and begins to heal herself. She moves to the dead hollow, about to take a bite when she looks at his face, a curious expression hidden behind her ox mask.

"What's your name... Arrancar? If I'm to pledge my alliance to you, I need to know what to call you."

He lets out a snort of sorts, casting her one last glance, before staring straight ahead.

"Grimmjow... Grimmjow Jaegerjaques."

She swallows the lump in her throat, ignoring the longing emotion clinging to her... She thinks she may know this arrancar in another life... But her memories are hazy, and trying to think about it only causes her pain... She finishes off the hollow, cleaning her face of the blood as she bows beside him, resting a hand on her chest.

"I look forward to serving you... Grimmjow-sama."

___________________

She feels herself roll out of bed, rubbing the back of her head as it hits the ground... What the hell?? Is she a child waking up from a bad nightmare?? She finds herself leaning against the mattress, resting her head against the edge as she lets out a sigh... Grimmjow.... The dream, she had called a panther like hollow, "Grimmjow"... That can't be the same Grimmjow that manhandled her the other day...

Could it?

She rubs her face, trying to understand why he was so angry.... Why he would blame Ichigo for her not knowing who he was?? She never saw that man in her life!! Even if she has met him before, and knew him...

Someone as handsome as him could NEVER be forgotten...

Her cheeks flare up, and she lets out an irritated groan... Right... Ever since she has been in Urahara's care, her hollow emotions have started to take shape in the form of human emotions... Things she shouldn't feel when she was an Arrancar, like sadness, and guilt, are now things she's experiencing... She hates it... Just wants to return to her arrancar ways of feeling nothing.

But she's always felt something.

Otherwise, she couldn't heal... And not many arrancars of Aizen's army had that power. But she did... And yet, he never used her powers.. Because he didn't know she had them. He never got the chance to find out. She just can't remember why; and it continues to haunt her. Her time in Hueco Mundo was long, but she finds that there are memories she doesn't remember, things she should know, but doesn't. She's asked Urahara what Grimmjow was talking about after he left. But she wasn't given an answer, and he'd sent her on an errand with Orihime, leaving her confused and empty.

Grimmjow....

Why does that name continue to haunt her, and why does she feel he was the piece she was missing?

__________________________

"Grimmjow-sama?"

He lets out a grunt; as if telling her he was listening. His head is resting in her lap, and they're laying together curled around a fire she made during these chilly nights.

"Why did you let me live ? You could've killed me and continued on your path to becoming a Vasto Lorde."

His ears flicker, and his eyes open slightly, staring down at the white sand. His paw shifts, and his attention remains on the fire, but he knows she's waiting for an answer. Why did he leave her alive?? It would've been simple to just finish her off and continue on without a companion... and yet; she's here with him, keeping him company during these dreary and barren times...

"The path to being a Vasto Lorde is a long one, and I decided you were worth keeping alive..." he states lazily, closing his eyes once more. "Besides, you didn't want to die. And I'm not one for killing those who have fight left in them, but aren't at full strength."

He hears the hitch in her breath, before a light rumble vibrates under his chin. He opens an eye, and looks up to see her stifling a laugh... How dare she laugh?

"What's so funny?!"

She shakes her head, turning her eyes to look at him, gently stroking his cheek, "I didn't think you were a beast who understood what it means to fight on equal grounds.."

He startles her by knocking her on her back, blue hues glinting in the fire as he sneers at her. His paws pin her down, and his tail swishes, licking his lips at their position. He's the one in control.

"You dare to challenge me, princess??" he grumbles, pressing his weight on her. He hears the gasp, but focuses on her face, watching the way her cheeks change colour under that mask.. Tch... "You owe your life to me... And one day, I'll make sure you remember that..."

He blinks when she smiles at him, using what strength she has to wrap her arms around him. "It doesn't matter what you do to me, Grimmjow-sama... I'll always pledge my life to you... I'd even die for you."

His reiatsu grows darker, and he growls in his chest, moving to bite her neck. He hears the gasp, her body clinging to him as he delves his teeth into her skin. His face goes to her ear, and he growls;

"You're mine _____... and I won't let you die for me."

He looks at her face, seeing her eyes widen in understanding. He watches her neck move as she swallows, before she buries her face in his cheek, holding him close.

"I belong to Grimmjow-sama... And I won't leave you behind."

He lets out a snort, as if agreeing, before picking her up by the scruff of her cloak with his teeth, carrying her to the small cave they call "home".

_____________________

He's waiting for that shithead shinigami to return home. In the back of his mind, Grimmjow could've just met him at his school, caused a scene there... But he didn't want to risk bringing _____ into it. And he knows, she'd step in if only to protect that bastard. It still makes his blood boil.

How dare he steal ____ from him? Kurosaki isn't good enough... He's a fucking weak human! He couldn't give ____ what she needs.. What she desires.. He's always filled that role, and he'll refuse to have her be stolen from him. Especially from a piece of shit like him.

"What do you want Grimmjow? I'm not in the mood."

He rolls his eyes, "Tch. I don't give a shit if you're in the mood or not... You're going to fight me." he starts, pulling Pantera from its sheath. "Or I'll go after that Orihime chick, and make you attack me."

The smirk grows when Ichigo presses the crest against his chest. He's now in his Shinigami form, and jumps at him... What an idiot, an open book. And Grimmjow is happy to tear pages from it, one by one.

Let the fun and blood begin.

______________________

_____ feels the fight before Orihime pauses their training. Both their faces express the same concern, and although the words are stuck in her throat, _____ is thankful for Orihime understanding the look in her eyes. She doesn't return to her gigai, opting to stay in her Arrancar form. Her powers have stablized now, and she's able to control them better without needing it, and it would be too much of a hassle to get back in. Instead of waiting for Orihime to get ready, ____ finds her legs running up the ladder of her own accord, and her body runs to where the reiatsus are clashing, sending shivers down her spine.

Why does the second one feel as if it's calling out for her?

Her eyes narrow as the worry creases on her face.

'Grimmjow'.

______________________

"_____-chan, I hope you're adjusting to being Grimmjow's fraccion."

Aizen's voice was smooth, silky and firm. She tries to hide the tremble of his reiatsu, eyes on his as she nods her head in slight unease.

"Y....Yes..." she stutters, bowing her head, "He's been treating me well.."

Silence lingers, before he nods his head, a smile on his face. "That's good... Let me know if he ever tries to hurt you.. I'll deal with him myself."

A shudder runs down her spine, and she bites her lip, before swallowing the lump in her throat. "....Y...Yes, Aizen-sama..."

She then leaves the room, finding herself able to breathe easier once she was away from him. She feels his reiatsu spike, and immediately her feet take off towards him. She never likes making him wait, because since their transformation, Grimmjow has become more... brash, and destructive... A part of her died when she realized he wasn't entirely the same person... But then again, perhaps he's always been thirsty for blood and mayhem... She just never noticed until now.

She's jarred from her thoughts when she runs right into his chest, almost falling on her butt in surprise. His hand rests on her back, holding her up as he swiftly gathers her in his arms, using sonido to carry her back to his quarters. She feels dizzy at the movement, but before she can process anything, or her surroundings, his mouth is on hers, rough and dominating. He pins her arms to the wall, using items she didn't know he acquired, but her mind was too focused on his taste, his scent.. Wanting to just feel his warmth around her..

Oh how she wishes she can touch him.

"Did he touch you?"

The words are dark, rough, and brings ____ from her thoughts, opening her eyes to meet his. Blue hues dark, full of passion, anger and something else she can't place... And she starts to sweat... His reiatsu is starting to suffocate her, and although she wants to reply to him, she's out of breath, and her mind is racing from the struggle of trying to breathe..

"Answer me, Princess..." he growls, moving to bite her neck, "Did. He. Touch. You?"

"N....No!" She whimpers, trying to wriggle out of her restraints. He put pressure on her body, and he makes her look at him, a gasp leaving her lips.

"G...Grimmjow.... I... I belong to you... and you alone... I wouldn't let anyone else touch me."

'Not the way you do.'

She hopes her eyes communicate her thoughts, and he seems to be silent, assessing her current state. His eyes are hiding something, but it's gone the moment she blinks, and she whimpers when he moves to nip at her cheek, a hand rubbing her sides.

"Good. You're such a good girl, ______." he murmurs, eyes narrowing as he smirks against her skin. "Now... Let me reward you... My Princess..."

________________________

_____ reaches the fight, gasping when she sees the sight before her. Ichigo has donned his hollow mask, and Grimmjow is in his released form... The white and blue flash in front of her, and she feels her body shudder, nearly collapsing at the overwhelming energy... She doesn't know what's going on, or why her body is reacting this way. But she feels sick, dizzy from the flashes in her mind.

The rare smiles. The frown when he's concentrating. The snarls when he's angry. The look of pleasure when they both reach their peaks.

Her hand clutches her chest, and she's kneeling on the ground, whimpers escaping her lips. She can't breathe... She's sinking fast, and she can't find the strength to climb back out of the water. The sound of a crash echoes in her brain, and her head snaps up, searching for the explosion. When she spots it, she sees a bloodied Grimmjow laying in the crater. On instinct, her body begins to run, and her eyes are only on him..

Her master... Her lover... Her companion...

"Grimmjow-sama!!"

__________________________

Fuck his life. How the hell did that bastard get so much stronger in the time they last fought? It's not like Orihime is around to cry for him to stop... He hasn't even threatened her in front of him... Well... He did use it as bait to lure him into a fight...

But he understands why when he feels her reiatsu heading right for them.

Shit... _____ figured out he was here... She knew he was fighting with Kurosaki... She was going to come and defend that bastard... AGAIN. The feeling of betrayal began to claw at his gut, and he growled, doing everything in his power to overtake the bastard. But it seems he saw every move coming... It was as if he became predictable in his attacks, and he was left fending off attacks rather than being the attacker.

He coughed, letting out a grunt as he watched the bastard charge up one last Getsuga Tenshou... Heh... So he was that angry he wanted him dead? Well now... He deserves it... After all, he was the one who forced him into a fight... Must have caught him in a bad mood... Grimmjow couldn't find the energy to sit up, but he managed anyway, feeling his body revert back to normal. He was leaning on Pantera, panting and wincing at the pain...

But his body shook the moment he heard her voice....

"Grimmjow-sama!!!"

With wide eyes, he turns his head to see her running at him. Tch. Her face was ugly with those tears and worry. But it was all directed at him. FOR him. And he feels his body shake... What a time for her to remember who he was, right as he was about to be defeated... But he heard Pantera roar, and he felt Kurosaki release the attack before he realized his mistake...

____ jumped at him, knocking him on his back as she tried to shield the blast for him...

She was going to DIE for him... And he couldn't find the strength to move Pantera...

He finds the strength to crush her to his chest, flipping her under his body so he'd be shielding her from it. The heat was starting to close in on them, and if anyone was going to die, it would be HIM for HER.

Suddenly, there's a glow engulfing them, and his eyes widen, watching as Orihime runs at them, protecting them from the attack... He doesn't understand why she did it... But he sees the determination in her eyes, and feels the concern and unease rolling from Kurosaki as he lands on the ground and runs to them.

"I...Inoue!! W... Why did you do that? You could've been killed!"

Her attention remains on the Espada and Arrancar beneath him, her eyes filled with worry for her friend. She brings down the shield and starts to heal Grimmjow's injuries without his consent, attention on the girl in his arms, clinging to him.

"You weren't going to kill me, Kurosaki-kun... Because I could sense that your attack was weaker when you saw ____-chan try to shield Grimmjow." she explains, directing her attention to him, "You weren't going to kill him from the start... You just wanted him to know you were stronger..."

"It was STILL reckless, Inoue!!!" He scolds, moving to rest his hands on her arms, brown hues filled with worry. "Don't you ever try to shield one of my attacks again!! I... I couldn't forgive myself if I hurt you...."

If Grimmjow was in his normal state of mind, he would've thrown up at the grossness in front of him. But his attention was on the Arrancar in his arms, clinging to him as if she was scared to let go. It seems the two humans are busy with each other to notice them, and he feels a drop in his stomach when ____ pulls away briefly to stare into his eyes... He cups her cheek in the palm of his hand, clicking his tongue softly.

"Stop crying, Princess... It makes you look weak."

He watches the way her cheeks puff up, anger swelling in her eyes before she punches his chest. "Y....You're the one to talk!!" She starts, grabbing his cheek in the same manner as him, "Y...You're the one who was broken at me forgetting who you were!"

He growls, eyes narrowing, "Watch how you talk to me, _____... I won't go easy on you... I told you... I'd make you remember that you owe your life to me..." he smirks, dragging his hand down her sides, sneaking it under her uniform. "Don't think I've forgotten that."

She shudders, and his eyes darken at her actions, watching her beneath blue hair. "M...Maybe I should've let Ichigo kill you.." She mumbles, feeling his reiatsu spike at her words.

"Oh... You're going to pay for that _____-chan...." he whispers, biting her neck. She has to stifle the mewl, a hand reaching up to grab his ear, "I'll make sure by the end of it, you remember just WHO you belong to... And who you're loyal to."

She feels her eyes soften, and _____ moves to kiss his cheek, ignoring the looks from the two humans... "Not if I can embarrass you in front of them first." She winks, before jumping out of his arms and takes off with Sonido...

His eyes widen at her words, but a smirk curls on his lips, clicking his tongue... Well... She has some nerve... But the chase is what makes it fun, and ____ has always made things fun and entertaining... He looks at the two humans, stretching his arms.

"Thanks for healing me, woman.." he mumbles, "And for looking after _____ during her stay." He ignores the gasp from her, before glaring at the orangette, "I'll be back for my rematch... And this time, I'll make sure you don't hurt _____... Otherwise I'll hack you to pieces."

He doesn't wait around any longer, vanishing before their eyes, chasing after the one person who's always stayed with him.

His lover, his companion, his mate.

[cryingcow]

Character Story - Someya [RGGO]

Between Someya and Ono Michio, I very much misjudged who had the more ridiculous story XD For tonight’s story we have Someya, aka “naked wet guy who showed his bare ass in Y6″. Not to be confused with Katsuya in Y5, Kiryu in Y0, and Ryoma and Saigo in Ishin :D

Story: Someya deals with a . . . somewhat unusual kidnapping - and - hostage situation during the Christmas-New Years holidays.

Someya, beating someone’s face in: “How dare you disrespect the Care Bears!!!”

Note: The item’s name is “くま太” or Kumadai (Kuma Futoshi?). I went with the English translation because I like alliterations :D also, “New Year holidays” seems to refer to the whole Christmas to New Year period.

 .

CHAPTER 1

.

|December 2013—3 years before Kiryu and Someya met in the open space in front of the Tojo Clan Headquarters . . .|

Someya Family Member A: “Oh, thank you for your hard work around the area.”

Someya Family Member B: “Really . . . even though it’s already the New Year holidays . . . I didn’t think yakuza would be so busy.”

Someya Family Member A: “Don’t be stupid . . . the New Year holidays doesn’t matter in Kamurocho. Isn’t it an inviolable rule of collections to take what you can as long as the city is alive?”

Someya Family Member B: “I know that . . . a lot of work in a bustling city . . .”

Someya Family Member A: “Anyway, was anything late today? Did any store hesitate to pay?”

Someya Family Member B: “No, but I had a bit of a run-in with the Wakaba Family . . .”

Someya Family Member A: “Oi oi, not again . . . we already beat them badly before. They’re really persistent . . .”

Someya Family Member B: “Every time I see them, I beat them up and drive them away, but there has to be a less messier method . . . Rumor has it they’re trying to gain power and get back at us. I think it’s better to prepare for that—”

Someya: “Hm . . . you don’t have to prepare for their comeback. We can easily crush them when they attack. Rather, have you secured the thing yet?”

Someya Family Member A: “Th-That’s . . . it’s a special item, so it’s hard to find . . .”

Someya: “Oi oi, what day do you think it is today? Don’t you understand? That it’s already tomorrow?!”

Someya Family Member A: “Apologies, Boss . . . I’m having the footsoldiers scour Kamurocho right now . . .”

Someya: “Securing the thing is of utmost importance . . . If we fail this year, it would affect my reliability. Last year was really bad . . . you understand we can’t afford to fail anymore . . .”

Someya Family Member A: “Y-Yes . . . we will find it . . .”

Someya: “Apart from that, how are preparations going? Are things going our way?”

Someya Family Member B: “Ye-Yeah, it’s ready. There won’t be any problem tonight or tomorrow!!”

Someya: “I see . . . then the problem is the thing . . . it’s over if someone takes it before me . . .”

Someya Family Member A: “Understood! We will work with the youth to search all over Kamurocho!! We’ll definitely obtain it!!”

Someya: “Yeah, get going.”

{The Someya Family members run out.}

TV Voice: “Sawamura Haruka, an idol who had an electrifying retirement at the end of last year, became a hot topic when she was witnessed at an orphanage in Okinawa—”

Someya: “’A daughter raised by a yakuza’ . . . Children cannot choose their parents. That child shouldn’t be held responsible . . . Oh, should I also go out looking for the thing in question? It would be a hassle to get caught up with another group while looking for something like that . . .”

----

Someya: “Damn it . . . I’ve been searching for it but it’s nowhere to be found . . . I won’t make it by tomorrow night . . .”

{Someya’s phone rings.}

Someya: “What is it? Did you find it?!”

Someya Family Member A: “Yes! I managed to find it!! I’m holding the thing right now!!”

Someya: “Well done. Despite seeming impossible . . . Where are you now? I’ll be there soon—”

Suspicious Man: “Yo, Someya . . . I wasn’t able to take care of you the other day . . .”

Someya: “Are you . . . from Wakaba Family? What do you want with me?”

Wakaba Family Executive: “We, the Wakaba Family, want to give our thanks to the Someya Family . . . Were you researching a lot on an item of yours? Have you been frantically looking for something the past few days? Giving the whole family a hard time . . . But thanks to that, you’re alone without any entourage. Will you properly receive our thanks today?”

Someya: “Don’t you know? I don’t have time to deal with you. I’m sorry, but can you come back another time?”

Wakaba Family Executive: “Shut up!! We won’t let this opportunity of you being without your minions slip by!! This time I’ll make you pay!! Let’s go, you guys!! He’s alone, let’s kill him!!!!”

{Someya kicks their butts.}

Wakaba Family Executive: “Damn it . . . Strong . . .”

Someya: “You’re all talk . . . the result is the same no matter how many times you try. Give up.”

Wakaba Family Executive: “Tch . . . you’re certainly strong, you bastard, but what about your minions? By this time my elite should be attacking them . . .”

Someya: “What did you say?!”

Wakaba Family Executive: “The best you can do is pray for their safety!!”

{The Wakaba Family runs away.}

Someya: “Oi, wait!! . . . Damn, those guys run fast . . . For now, I’m worried about the thing. I should get in contact with the family . . .”

----

Someya Family Member A: “I’m glad we managed to find it . . .”

Someya Family Member B: “Yeah, if we couldn’t obtain the thing, that person would definitely be in a bad mood . . .”

Someya Family Member A: “This will finally reassure our Boss—”

Suspicious Man: “Haw . . . It seems that important thing you’re holding is what the Someya Family has been frantically looking for . . .”

Someya Family Member A: “Who are you guys?!”

Wakaba Family Elite: “We’re from the Wakaba Family that you dealt with before. We came to return the favor . . . We’ll take that while we crush you. That would surely inconvenience you!!”

Someya Family Member B: “This is important to our Boss . . . we won’t be handing it over to you or the others!!”

Wakaba Family Elite: “Heh . . . Then we’ll take it away by force. Our original job was to beat you guys up anyway!!”

{The Wakaba Family defeats the Someya Family members.}

Someya Family Member A: “Da-Damn it . . . I didn’t think there’d be anyone this strong in the Wakaba Family . . .”

Wakaba Family Elite: “Well then I’ll be keeping this, okay?”

Someya Family Member A: “W-Wait!! Give that back!!”

Wakaba Family Elite: “Shut up!! Get it back then if you want to repent!!”

{The Wakaba Family elite punches the other yakuza and makes him collapse.}

Wakaba Family Elite: “Based on what I’ve heard, could this be tribute for those at the top? The up-and-coming Someya Family is in a good mood . . . the receiver is upper management of the Tojo Clan . . . could it be for the Majima Family?”

{The Wakaba Family elite opens the wrapped gift.}

Wakaba Family Elite: “What’s this?! Isn’t this just a blue stuffed bear?!”

.

-END-

.

CHAPTER 2

.

Wakaba Family Elite: “You were frantically searching for a stuffed toy like this even though you’re yakuza?!”

Someya Family Member B: “Kuh . . . si-since that’s all, give that back . . .”

Wakaba Family Elite: “. . . I see, is it hidden? Is there a secret to this stuffed toy? I don’t know what this secret is, but with that desperation, there’s no doubt this stuffed toy is important. This will make a good souvenir for my boss . . . bye.”

{The Wakaba Family elites leave.}

Someya Family Member A: “Uugh . . . B-Boss . . . sorry . . . there was nothing we could do . . .”

----

Someya Family Member A: “I’m sorry, Boss . . . the thing was stolen by the Wakaba Family . . .”

Someya: “Damn it . . . just when we’ve finally found it, no way they’re taking it away . . . They’re trying to look inside the stuffed toy, it’s all over if it gets dismembered . . . Before that happens, we’re getting it back!! Tell everyone in the family to prepare for a raid!!”

Someya Family Member A: “Y-Yes!!”

Someya Family Member B: “B-Boss!! The Wakaba Family leader wants to talk to you . . .”

Someya: “What did you say? Give me the handset.  . . . Wakaba. What do you want from me?”

Wakaba: “Aah, Someya-san. Thank you very much for your help the other day . . . I’m sorry I wasn’t there to receive it. However, it seems that my underling made a mistake and accidentally brought in that important item . . .”

Someya: “Made a mistake? Heh . . . of course you’d say that . . . was it not forcibly taken from my men? Is the thing you stole from us safe?”

Wakaba: “Yeah, and as long as the secret of this stuffed toy hasn’t been revealed, it would be a waste to do something bad and reduce its value.”

Someya: “Aren’t you impertinent. Now why don’t you return it immediately? Before my whole family mobilizes to crush you . . .”

Wakaba: “Please calm down, Someya-san. If you do that, what’ll happen to this stuffed toy?”

Someya: “. . . Shit. You . . . what do you want with that? Just get this over with already!!”

Wakaba: “Heh . . . this stuffed toy seems very important to you . . . If it’s so important, then I’ll give it back. But I can’t say I’ll do it for free . . . So then . . . give us 100 million.”

Someya: “100 million? You want me to pay such a large sum of money to get back what you stole?”

Wakaba: “Yeah, if it’s not possible then I will burn this stuffed toy here.”

Someya: “Shit . . . fine, I’ll prepare the 100 million. There’s not a single scratch on it?”

Wakaba: “Then with an attaché case filled with 100 million in cash, please come to the abandoned building on Senryo Avenue. I will return this stuffed toy once I have that 100 million.”

Someya: “Understood. An abandoned building on Senryo Avenue?”

Wakaba: “Yeah, we look forward to welcoming you alone. See you later.”

{The phone call ends.}

Someya Family Member B: “Boss, do you really have 100 million? To buy back something like this?!”

Someya: “I know that. And I’m sure they have an ambush ready with all their members . . . But that’s the only way to get it back. If I refuse, they will definitely burn it. Prepare 100 million now. As soon as I’m ready, I’m taking it alone.”

Someya Family Member B: “B-But . . .”

Someya: “It’s okay, just do as I say!!”

Someya Family Member B: “Y-Yes!! Understood!!”

----

Someya: “As told, I came alone. Why don’t you come out of hiding?”

Someya: “No understanding of courtesy, greeting guests with such a dirty place.”

Wakaba: “To think you’d actually come alone . . . that stuffed toy must be quite important . . .”

Someya: “The promised 100 million. Take it. Where’s the thing you promised to exchange with this?”

Wakaba: “Oi, check the contents.”

Wakaba Family Elite: “Yes sir.”

{The Wakaba Family elite takes the attaché case from Someya and opens it.}

Wakaba Family Elite: “Boss, the contents are definitely the 100 million.”

Wakaba: “I see . . . Someya-san, I definitely received your 100 million . . .”

Someya: “Then will you please give me the thing over there?”

Wakaba: “I will return it properly in due time . . . but before that, I would like to ask you one question.”

Someya: “A question? Don’t play around!! Hand over the thing already!!”

Wakaba: “What’s the secret behind this stuffed toy that you’re desperately trying to get back? I don’t think it’s sane to pay 100 million for a stuffed toy. Is there an important secret?”

Someya: “Doing something like this, I’ll teach you to have a sense of honor. I gave you the money, why don’t you keep your end of the bargain?!”

Wakaba: “Think it’ll be easy just because you asked? . . . Okay. Take the stuffed toy as you like . . . Well, if you could reach it past this many people!!”

Someya: “Tch . . . so this is how it goes after all . . . fine. I’ll beat it into your skull not to break promises!!”

Wakaba: “Let’s get started! We’ll carve some etiquette thoroughly into your body!!!!”

{Someya defeats almost all the Wakaba Family members.}

Wakaba Family Elite: “S-Strong . . .”

Wakaba: “Kuh . . . to think even for my elite are unable to compete against him . . .”

Someya: “Now, will you return the item quietly?”

Wakaba: “Kuh . . . it’s come to this!! Oi!! Bring the stuffed toy!!”

{A Wakaba Family elite hands Wakaba the bear.}

Wakaba: “Someya, if you move a single finger . . . I’ll blow a hole in this stuffed toy’s head, you hear?”

Someya: “Wakaba! You bastard . . .”

Wakaba: “Heh . . . it’s an effective technique . . . That Someya can’t move a finger because of this . . .”

Someya: “Don’t touch that with your dirty hands . . .”

Wakaba: “As long as you don’t move, no harm will come to this stuffed toy . . .”

Someya: “Kuh . . .”

Wakaba: “You guys, take him down so he can’t rampage about!!”

Wakaba Family Elite: “Yes sir!!”

{The two elites grab Someya by the arms.}

Wakaba: “The situation has reversed, Someya . . . Can you move if you are held down by a few people?”

Someya: “Wakaba . . . you bastard . . . you coward!!”

Wakaba: “Someya . . . please receive our thanks. Once this is done, the stuffed toy will be returned as promised . . . Well, if you’re still alive at the end . . . now bestow him our gratitude to your heart’s content!!”

Wakaba Family Elite: “Yes sir!!”

{The Wakaba Family elites start punching Someya repeatedly.}

Someya: “Uguh?! Gah?! Gahaa!!”

Wakaba: “Heh . . . Someya, I wonder how much you can endure . . .”

{The Wakaba Family elites keep punching Someya repeatedly.}

Someya: “Guuh?! Gohah?! Guaah!!”

.

-END-

.

CHAPTER 3

.

Wakaba: “Making a fool out of me! You can’t die yet! Take this! And this!!”

{Wakaba punches the immobilized Someya repeatedly.}

Someya: “Fuguh?! Uugh?! Gahaa!!”

Wakaba: “Well? Do you feel like talking about the secret of this stuffed toy? Huh?!”

Someya: “. . . Haa . . . Haa . . . and who are you? . . .”

Wakaba: “Tch . . . you still have such cheeky eyes? In that case, I’ll hurt you more!! Eat this!!”

{Wakaba punches the immobilized Someya repeatedly again.}

Someya: “Guh?! Fuh?! Gehoo!!”

Wakaba: “You’ve lasted this long . . . there’s no reason . . . What is it?! Say it!! The secret of this stuffed toy!! Is it worth over 100 million?! Huh?!”

{Wakaba punches the immobilized Someya repeatedly again.}

Someya: “Gah?! Uguh?! Gahaa!! . . . O-Okay . . . now give it back . . .”

Wakaba: “Shit . . . this bastard . . . the hand I’m using to hit is starting to hurt . . . Oi! Bring me a wooden sword!!”

Wakaba Family Elite: “Y-Yes sir!! Here.”

Wakaba: “Al~right, now I’ll hit you with this from now on. Spit out the secret immediately before you die!!”

{Wakaba beats Someya repeatedly with the wooden sword.}

Someya: “Guah?! Gaha?! Guhaa!!”

Wakaba: “Anyway, this bastard and his minions are ruthless, aren’t they? Their Head doesn’t come back, but they don’t come to help . . . Will the guys from our family come to my aid if that were me right now? Huh?”

Wakaba Family Elite: “Y-Yes sir!! Of course!!”

Wakaba: “As expected. I feel sorry for you . . .”

{Wakaba beats Someya repeatedly with the wooden sword again.}

Someya: “Guh?! Uguh?! Gahaa!! Cough cough . . . Haa . . . haa . . . say . . .”

{A cellphone rings.}

Wakaba: “Hm? Whose cellphone is ringing at such a time? . . . Heh, hey Someya . . . could that be your phone? Do we check?”

{Wakaba takes Someya’s phone and steps away.}

Wakaba: “Speak of the devil, apparently it’s from your ruthless minions . . . Yeah, hello? I’m sorry for taking the call . . . your Head is already bloody . . . Shut up, stop making a ruckus!! I was about to kill him . . . A pleasant memory to carry into the next world. Since your cute little minion went to the effort of contacting you, I’ll let you talk to him in your final moments. I made it hands-free, so it’s time to say your goodbyes . . .”

Someya Family Member A: “Boss!! Can you hear me, Boss!!”

Someya: “. . . Yeah, I can hear you. Good grief, what’s this about?”

Someya Family Member A: “That’s good . . . please listen, Boss!! The stuffed toy gift for your daughter . . . we contacted the distributor and obtained another one!! So there’s no need to be compliant with those guys anymore—"

Wakaba: “What did you say?! This is a gift for your daughter?! This is really just a stuffed toy?!”

Someya: “Oi oi, is it okay for you to be distracted by someone else? Would I miss such a chance?”

{The two elites holding Someya collapse.}

Wakaba: “Someya?! Damn it!! If you don’t stand down, this stuffed toy—"

Someya: “Heh . . . Sorry, but will you return it now?”

{Someya hits Wakaba in the face, and snatches back the bear.}

Wakaba: “Gahaa?!”

Someya: “Oops . . . waving around an important trump card like this, it’s easy to take away . . .”

Wakaba: “Is it really just a stuffed toy?!”

Someya: “Of course it’s not just a stuffed toy. It’s a super rare item produced in limited quantity . . . A stuffed toy of the mascot ‘Big Bear’ from the anime ‘Dokidoki Princess’, which is popular with children . . .”

Wakaba: “Wh-Who is Big Bear?! Don’t be foolish!! Isn’t there a secret that’s worth big money?!”

Someya: “Hm . . . When did I say that? Did you perhaps misunderstand me?”

Wakaba: “Then why? For an item like that . . . Why did you prepare 100 million and do something so unreasonable?!”

Someya: “Yeah, see . . . For me, this guy . . . shelling out 100 million isn’t even enough . . .”

Wakaba: “I-Idiot . . . doing something like that . . .”

Someya: “Now, Wakaba . . . I wonder if you’re ready? If you had returned this guy, I would have let you pass this time, but . . . you broke your promise and did as you wanted . . . so I guess I’ll have to take my due compensation?”

Wakaba: “Kuh . . . Wh-What are you doing!! You’re already in bad shape!! You were surrounded by everyone and beaten like a punching bag!!!!”

Someya: “This is a good handicap for you guys . . . I have a lot of plans from here on out, I don’t have time to spend on you!!”

Wakaba {to his remaining minions}: “Do something!! Bring weapons!! Just kill him!!!! Get started!!!!”

{Someya defeats the rest of the Wakaba Family and they all collapse.}

Someya: “Haa . . . haa . . .”

Someya Family Member A: “Boss!! Boss!! Are you safe?! The whole family is now inside the building—”

Someya: “Shut up, I’m fine . . . I got back the item.”

Someya Family Member A: “I’m glad you’re safe!! But then . . . this stuffed toy is wasted . . . Oh, no, maybe it’s good you got it back!! If you look closely, this bear may be a fake because the color is different from the previous one . . .”

Someya: “. . . ?! A different color? Oi, what color is that bear?”

Someya Family Member A: “It’s pink. The previous one was blue, so is it a fake?”

Someya: “No, you did well. That stuffed toy won’t go to waste . . . I’m heading back to the office. I’ll leave it to you to clean up here . . . please move some of those guys out of the way.”

Someya Family Member A: “Y-Yes!! Understood!! You can leave right away!!”

Someya: “Yeah, I’m counting on you to handle this.”

Someya: “. . . It’s not easy being Santa at all . . .”

----

|Morning of December 25--|

Hiromi: “Oyassan look, look! Santa gave me 2 presents this year!! It’s amazing!! Big Bear and Bear Beauty from ‘Dokidoki Princess’!! Santa brought them both together!!”

Someya: “I’m sure Santa sent out another gift to apologize for the mistake last year . . .”

Hiromi: “I also met Santa! He came to see me because I’m a good kid!! It’s not a lie! I really met him!!”

Someya: “Yeah, of course Oyassan believes Hiromi’s story. I’m sure Hiromi was a good kid . . .”

Someya: (Really, to have obtained Bear Beauty afterwards . . . it was a good surprise, albeit by chance . . . For this child, I’ll seize anything to give them complete happiness . . .)

.

-END-

Masterlist

[the-untamed-obsession]

Despair | XueXiao x Reader

I know. But don’t worry, it’s just angst. Pure angst. I’m sorry if it seems like a little bit of a mess, it’s 4:30am and I’m really tired but I really needed/wanted to finish this. Happy reading💖

WARNING: mentions of severe depression and suicidal thoughts!

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: After their deaths, you’re expected to continue on living. But how can you? You’re so alone now, all alone with your thoughts of despair.

Your eyes scanned the road where many people walked, busy with their daily lives. You watched as couples passed by, then children, then adults, then people who were by themselves, and so on.

Your emotionless face didn’t change as a little girl ran towards you and stopped. She stared at you for a moment, but you looked away giving her no reaction. She took the hint and ran off, but she reminded you of her.

A-Qing.

You shook your head and kept looking ahead, your eyes following each person that passed by. But none of it brought you any solace. It only worsened the ache in your heart. How were you supposed to continue like this? How were you supposed to stay strong? How were you supposed to move through life like this?

You were miserable. The world was so bland and tasteless. The colors were gone, the life was gone, everything that made your day worth living every single day was gone. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, everything had been taken from you.

What could you have done? A lot, actually. There was a lot you could’ve done, but you were just too naive. Things had been great, things had been so perfect… then HE came along. He ruined everything, he took away your happy little family.

What could you do now? Mourn. But it wasn’t enough. Every day was harder to deal with. Every day seemed like a hassle. Everyday was just another miserable reason to join them.

Even now, a full year later, you would still imagine looking up to see them walking towards you. Every time you’d hear your voice, your hope would spike and you’d feel like you’d see them laughing at you. Laughing the way you used to.

But you knew that was all a delusion. There was nothing to fix the void in your heart. There was nothing that could take the pain away. There was nothing that could fix you.

Your eyes fell to the cup in front of you. Your fingers reached around it and picked it up; you saw the liquid swirl inside. It was tea, you’d lost your taste for alcohol a while ago.

Not that it mattered, anything you ate or drank tasted like sand. Whether it was a delicious meal or the best alcohol around. It was all the same to you.

Sweets were also something you avoided. Especially the one Xingchen bought you. You remembered the days where you woke up and found a piece of candy beside you. You’d remember the smile on Xue Yang’s face every time you gave him some. You’d remember the pout on A-Qing’s face when you’d tease her about eating too many.

All of those were just memories. Annoying little memories that never went away. How could you enjoy them, anyway? Everything that brought you joy, was taken away from you.

Your hand touched your chest as the tears pooled in your eyes. Why? Why Xingchen? Why A-Qing? Why… why Xue Yang? He had changed his life around, he’d promised he would bring him back… he never got the chance.

You smiled as you finally saw your home in the distance. It wasn’t the prettiest, but you loved it. You lived there with the people you considered your family.

Xiao Xingchen, Xue Yang, and A-Qing. All three of them meant so much to you. You weren’t even sure when you began to fall in love with Xingchen and Xue Yang, but you didn’t hate it. Neither did they.

Nothing really changed between you three. There was a day where you three sat down and talked about your relationship. It was pleasant to admit your true feelings.

From that day forward, you three had been in a relationship. A-Qing caught it rather quickly, claiming even though she was blind she could practically smell the romance.

She treated you 3 like her family as well. Everything had been so perfect.

You walked in and saw a crying Xue Yang with no Xingchen or A-Qing. You were concerned, terrified even.

“Wh-what happened?” You asked, grabbing his arm. He was a mess, a sobbing mess with a pouch in his hands. “Xue Yang… Xue Yang!”

“(Y-Y/n)...” he murmured, tears steaming down his face.

“Where are they?” You asked, taking his shoulders. “Where are they? WHERE ARE THEY?!” You knew. You just knew.

Xue Yang moved aside and you looked behind him and felt your heart shatter. It almost felt like your heart stopped. In fact, it would’ve been better if it did.

You saw Xingchen laying there, still as a statue. You saw the large slit on his throat and your hand flew to your mouth. Your knees buckled and you fell to the ground, but almost immediately shot up and ran to the man in white.

“XINGCHEN!!” The scream that tore from your lips broke Xue Yang further than he’d already done so himself.

You fell to the ground beside Xingchen and reached out with shaky hands.

“Xi-Xingchen! W-wake up… pl-please. D-don’t le-leave me! Say something! Say s-something Xingchen!”

Xue Yang watched in horror as the words Xingchen cried out, you were crying out now. Your hands were hitting Xingchen’s chest in an attempt to wake him, but it wasn’t possible.

“XIAO XINGCHEN!!! WAKE UP!!!”

You felt arms around you and tried to shove them off, but they were firm.

“I’ll bring him back! I swear!” Xue Yang cried out, wanting any way to soothe your pain. “I swear! I promise you, I’ll bring him back!!”

You had believed him, knowing that he truly meant it. Xue Yang- whatever he’d done- had regretted it and wanted to make it better. He kept you in the dark with most things, but you accepted it, now only having him. Not like it was much different. Unlike Xingchen, you never knew of Xue Yang, so you couldn’t earn him or protect him.

In one day, everything had changed. Your family had been torn apart and you were too terrified to lose the last person you cared so deeply for.

So you believed him and went along with it. You didn’t stay with him, but he visited you every single night. He brought you candy- none of which you ate- and he often brought you food.

One day, Xue Yang didn’t return. You felt immense fear immediately and went out searching for him. You’d heard word that someone- matching Xiao Xingchen‘s description- was seen near Yi city.

Back home?

It didn’t matter. You went back in search of both of them, hoping to find either Xingchen or Xue Yang.

You found Xue Yang.

Dead on the ground, missing one arm, but a piece of candy in the other. It had happened all over again. You’d lost whatever was left of your family.

“Xue Yang? H-hey… Xue Yang…” you said, falling beside him. “Th-this isn’t f-funny. St-stop! Your jokes aren’t funny! Wake up! Wake up right now!” Tears streamed down your face and you let out a pained scream, one that echoed all around you.

You pulled Xue Yang into your arms, unable to handle what had just happened. His blood stained your clothes but you didn’t care.

When did this happen? Who killed him? Where were they? Would you be able to catch them? What would you do when you did catch them? Would you kill them too?

So many questions bombarded your mind but you had no answers. All you could do was pull Xue Yang all the way back to where Xingchen was and put him in a coffin beside him.

A-Qing was still missing. No matter what, you’d find her. You’d find her and keep her safe.

You poor fool.

If only you’d known. Only a few weeks after, you’d found out that A-Qing had become a ghost who begged other cultivators to ward them off. She even searched for someone to help kill Xue Yang, the cause of it all.

Learning the truth didn’t help anything. You’d learned everything overtime, piecing together some of your own thoughts.

Song Lan had appeared one day, he fought Xue Yang who cut out his tongue and turned him into a fierce corpse. A-Qing had seen it all and told Xiao Xingchen, who told her to run and hide.

Xingchen confronted Xue Yang, who lost it and taunted Xingchen with the one thing he couldn’t handle. Killing his own best friend, one who he’d given his own eyes to. Xingchen had taken his own sword and ended his life. You’d come home the next day.

Useless. You were so useless! You did nothing to save anyone! You couldn’t save Xue Yang, you couldn’t save A-Qing! You could save Xingchen! What good were you?

For someone who claimed family was so important, you sure as hell let your own down.

Ever since then, you’d been wandering the world. You didn’t know what to do. Would you go looking for Song Lan and kill him for ruining everything? Would you kill Wei Ying for daring to come back to life when no one you cared about could? What could you do?

Nothing.

As usual, you weren’t able to do anything. All you were good for was crying and regretting every life choice.

What would they want? What would they want you to do? Xingchen would probably want you to move on or something. A-Qing would probably suggest marrying some rich clan leader or something. Xue Yang might suggest you get revenge.

But you were tired. You were so tired and your mind kept replaying scenarios where your life would've been different. You kept wishing and begging for the universe to give you another chance but it never did.

Every day you woke up realizing your mistakes. Your inability to help anyone, your inability to do anything. Your mind replayed one thing and one thing only:

“Useless (y/n)...” you murmured as you took a sip of the tasteless tea. A tear slid down your cheek and you watched it hit the table below. It was soon followed by dozens more.

Even now, you couldn’t let go. You couldn’t move on. What was the point anyway? They’d all still be dead.

One thing you often wondered about was joining them. You tried. You tried living on your own. You tried for a whole year to continue without them, but it was so hard. It was almost as difficult as bringing them back to life.

But before you ended your time on this miserable planet… you needed two things.

Xingchen’s sword, Shuanghua, and his spirit pouch.

You glared up at the bright blue sky that taunted you, vowing to get both of them from Song Lan. There was nothing else left in the world for you… but those two things… you so desperately needed them.

[blizzardfluffykpop]

The Ko’s Arcade

Summary: Falling for the arcade owner’s son is a lot easier than you think. 

[He would probably propose to you with a vending machine ring ngl very cute tho].

Do or Not Series

Fluff

Word Count: 2,843

Shinwon X Reader

I’ve been going to the arcade on the outskirts of the city for years. To the point where Mr. Ko knows my whole family, considering they were the ones to start bringing me here. My parents thought I would stop going to The Ko’s Arcade when I was a seventh-grader at the latest. But here I am, almost out of college and still going at least once a week. Who knows, there might be a new game there? Or better yet, they have a new prize to win. Or a new thing to get at the vending machine. It’s a reward after a long week of courses, tests, and my job. The stress relief of beating Donkey Kong at his own game is the best feeling. But it not only those, maybe it’s because Mr. Ko’s son Shinwon is working there now? Yeah,... about that,... I may have a slight crush on him,... May. 

“You’re going to that silly arcade again?” My mom asks, and I nod, “It’s Sunday, so yeah.” She shrugs and tells me to enjoy myself and to tell Mr. Ko ‘hi’. I ride my bike over to the arcade, and for the next five hours, I am going to play some games and unwind. And possibly sneak a peek at the cute guy who runs the prize station. The bells ring above the door as I walk in and spot a few kids playing different games. Shinwon goes, “Welcome back to The Ko’s Arcade!” I grin and wave at him and walk to the back to find Q*Bert. After eight levels and three different tries to get up to the ninth level. I give up as I hop on the snake by accident again. I decide it’s not worth the hassle and get a pop from the vending machine. 

While looking around for another game. I catch Shinwon playing a two-player racing game by himself. Working up my confidence, I make my way over to him and challenge him to the next round. He smirks, “Alright. What’s the reward if we win.” I scrunch up my nose and think for a moment before it hits me. I need fifty more tickets to win the giant stuffed animal I have been eyeing. I rarely play the games that spit out tickets, so it is harder to earn than you would believe. “If I win, I want the big stuffed animal you guys have behind the counter.” He nods and tells me, “If I win,... the next time you hit the high score on Donkey Kong, you have to write my name.” I scoff, “Of course,... it has to be my title you are after.” He laughs, and I grin, “So is it a deal?” I nod, and we both shake hands. 

Let’s just say the game did not go as I expected. I expected to be at least in second place, if not in first. Let me say, Shinwon had some tricks up his sleeves and knew the track better than I did. Considering this was my second time playing this game, and probably his fiftieth. I ended up in last place in the first two races, and by the third, I was finally in seventh place. Shinwon moved around in numbers going from second to fifth to first. There goes my Donkey Kong high score title, I’ll miss it, but at least I’ll know that it’s me that has the highest. Mr. Ko will be in shock that my high score got taken by Shinwon. When everyone knows he is awful at the game like I am with racing games. I pout over him as the last race finishes up and totals our scores. He laughs, and in a teasing voice, he goes, “Did someone lose?” I pout and nod my head as he smiles over at me before he types in the winner. I don’t look at who’s name he types in till it circles back to the leaderboard. And printed in bold red letters is (Y/n). He winks at me and helps me out of the chair. 

He walks us over to the prize counter and reaches underneath, and pulls out a clip-on stuffed animal. He hands it over to me with a smile playing on his face. I grin at him as I realize it’s a little monkey. “Here, I had an unfair advantage on that racing game. Plus, your favorite game is dad’s favorite so,...” I thank him and put the monkey on my belt loop with a big smile on my face. I tell him to give me one second, and I race over to my backpack. And take the hot wheel car pin off of it and hand it to him. The one I had won at the arcade years before, “You suit the title of the best arcade racer better than I do.” He gasps, “My dad hasn’t carried these for years! They went out so fast that I didn’t get a chance to win one!” I grin and pin it to his green and white striped jacket. “Well, here you go. You deserve it.” It’s his turn to blush, and we give each other a fist bump before I make my way over to Donkey Kong. 

Three hours later, I hit the high score again. He comes over as I’m about to hit enter. “You don’t have to put my name as the high score, by the way.” He tells me, and I turn around to look at him and hit the enter button as I shake my head. “Yeah, but a deal is a deal. By next Sunday, I’ll have your score blown out of the water anyway.” He smiles, “I’ll gloat while I have the chance then.” I grin, “You go for it, King Kong.” He laughs as he says, “Whatever you say, Speed Racer!” I laugh and grab my backpack and make my way out. “I’ll see you next Sunday?” I ask, and he tells me, “Couldn’t miss it.” My heart is pounding by the time I leave. 

--

Next Sunday, like clockwork, my mom tells me to have fun at the arcade. But weirdly, it isn’t Shinwon standing behind the counter to greet me it’s Mr. Ko. “Good Morning, Mr. Ko!” I exclaim, and he goes, “Ah! Good Morning, (Y/n)! Bright and early like usual!” He notices me looking around for Shinwon, and he says, “If you’re looking for Shinwon, he’s in the back. He’s getting ready to put a new game out.” I nod as he points to the back room, and I decide to go back there. 

I open the door and don’t spot Shinwon, but spot some old classics I grew up playing. Like my mom’s favorite Pong. When that went out of order, she stopped coming in. Or Ms. Pacman, my dad’s favorite. I hope someday they will come back out on the floor. As I head further in, I see Shinwon struggling with a cardboard box, and I can’t help the giggle the falls from my lips. He whips his head around in my direction, I wave, and he smiles at me, “Here to help?” I shrug, “Am I getting paid?” He rolls his eyes, “Depends if you’re good to help.” “And if I’m good help?” He smirks, “We’ll see.” I shake my head as I place my book bag down and try to see what he’s doing. “Usually, the boxes come off easier, but this particular game is a special order so,... it’s packaged weirdly.” I nod and grab the box cutter he was using and slice down the side carefully. We pull on either side, and it still doesn’t give. After a few minutes of figuring out the best approach, we agree on ripping the box open. When we get it open, he asks, “What do you think?” I grin, "This is gonna be fun." He smiles as I take a closer look at it. Unlike the classics that are stand to play, there are chairs for you to sit and play on the tabletop arcade. On the instructions, it contains a bunch of old classics that no longer inhabit the place: like Pong, Asteroids, and Centipede. I help him wheel it out, and we each grab the two metal chairs and bring them over. He plugs it in and says, “I challenge you to Centipede!” I smirk, “You know I’m a pro at the classics!” He shrugs, “Are you?” 

Two hours later, after playing the different games, he has to return to the counter. Five kids walked up to the register with a bunch of tickets. His dad went home after we came out of the backroom, which left him to run the ticket counter. I watch him from afar and see how kind he is with the kids, and my heart melts a little. I remember being that age and rushing up to the counter to see what I could get. Or if I needed more to get what I want. Hoping that I would have enough time for one more game before my parents came. That Mr. Ko would let me have the prize although I was off by a few tickets. It seems that Shinwon is no different in that department; the one kid was off by five, and he still handed him the fifty-ticket item. I smile to myself. How could I ever get tired of this place? It’s filled with my childhood memories and,... Shinwon. 

As I watch him, I realize I’m in deep with my feelings for him. From his smile to his aura, I can’t help but fall more and more for him each second. He comes back over to me and says, “Sorry about that--” I cut him off, “Don’t be, we were both kids once.” He smiles, and I continue, “It was cute how you cared for them. You reminded me of your dad--” He groans, “Ah man, not my dad!” I shake my head and laugh, “Your dad is like the coolest and sweetest--.” He smirks, “Are you trying to say you find me cute and sweet?” I roll my eyes, “I was going to finish my sentence with ‘old man’. But I mean if the shoe fits--.” He shakes his head, and I laugh. I squeeze the little monkey he gave me that is hanging off of my belt loop. And I notice the pin I gave him is still in the same spot. He notices the monkey is still on me. He smiles, “I see you still are wearing the little guy.” I smile, “It seems you still have the pin.” 

Five more games against Shinwon, and it’s time for me to go home. I start to bid him goodbye when he goes, “Before you go, I know I’m going to regret it if I never ask you. Would you want to go on a date with me sometime? It's okay if you don't want to!” I turn around and look him in the eyes and ask if he is for real. He nods, and I grin, “I would love to, when and where?” He taps his chin with his first finger in thought and goes, “Would the pizza parlor uptown be good?” I nod, “I believe so, around six pm tomorrow?” He nods, “I get off at five, so I can pick you at six?” I nod, “Sounds good to me, King Kong.” He laughs, and I bid him goodbye, and he yells after me, “See ya later, Speed Racer!” My heart is beating out of its chest as I race home. The butterflies in my stomach are unbearable, “I have a date with my crush, Ko Shinwon, tomorrow!” I don’t realize I yelled that out loud until my dad let out an, “Um??” I laugh and scratch the back of my neck, “So uh, when were you going to tell us that? Is that why you always go to the arcade?” I shrug, “Partly, but I also have to defend my title as the champion of Donkey Kong.” He laughs, “Well, I trust you two, but be back home at a reasonable time.” I nod and race to my room, throw my head into the pillow and squeal about it. 

--

At 6 pm sharp, I hear a knock on my door, and I race over to it. I bid my parents goodbye after slipping on my shoes and head out with Shinwon. When we reach the pizza place, he asks, “Are you any good at card games?” I grin and nod my head as we slip into a booth. He pulls out a deck of cards and deals them out. “I challenge you to a game of War!” By the time the waiter comes over to take our order, we are in a heated battle. We only break our concertation to order the pizza and our two drinks. Before we are back in action, firing cards at one another to see who will come out on top. Unlike the last time with the racing game, I come out on top. “I win!” He groans and dramatically falls back into the seat. I laugh, and he smiles as I choose the next game like Rummy, and he pulls a pad of paper out of his deep pockets. “How deep are your pockets in the jacket?!” He grins, “I can hide a whole lot of movie theatre snacks in these babies.” We laugh as we start up the game. We finish the game coming out as a tie with a perfect 500 on either side. “I guess that means we’re even.” I wink at him, “Not for long.” He smirks at me as I grab a pizza slice from the pan. “May the best player win!” He exclaims when we shake hands before we devour our pizza. 

“Winner gets a kiss on the lips!” Shinwon exclaims, and I blush, “Alright but be prepared to lose!” I tell him with confidence. He grins, “Either way, I’m a winner.” Thirty minutes and three pizza slices later, I win the card game. I blush as I realize what’s going to happen. He wipes his hands off on a paper towel. I push the pizza pan to the side, and he reaches over the table. I meet him halfway as he puts his hand underneath my chin and places a chaste kiss on my lips. Before he can get away, I pull him back in for another kiss. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while, King Kong.” I sigh as we pull away, and he grins, “So have I, Speed Racer.” I hide my face behind the cards and blush. He laughs at me and pulls the cards down, “You’re cute.” I give him a small smile and tell him, “I think you’re cuter!” 

Three games full of laughter [a few kisses] and two pizza pans later, we’re, finally, worn out. We walk out of the parlor, and right outside is a small vending machine that flattens coins and stamps them. We rush over to it, thinking the same thing. Luckily, I have two pennies in my pocket as I slip one in and type Speed Racer in cursive on the machine. When it comes out with a hole punch on the top for a necklace chain, I hand it over to him. “So whenever I’m not around, I’m always with you.” He grins and puts it in his jean pocket, “Okay! My turn!” He makes mine, and when it comes out of the machine, he hands it over to me. Placing my hand over it so I don’t see it at first. I open my hands to see a few goofy little smiles on it. And in big block letters, it says, ‘King Kong’. I grin and place it in my jean pocket as he tells me, “It keeps me close to you. I think I like you.” I grin, and peck his cheek, “I think I like you too.” He places his hand over his cheek and throws his arm over my shoulder. Before he places, a big kiss on my cheek. I can’t help but laugh as we walk home together. 

When we reach my house, I go, “Do you want to go to the movie theaters next time?” Shinwon grins at me, and I continue, “Well, I got to see how many snacks we can sneak in with those pockets!” He laughs, and before he parts to his house, I kiss him. He kisses me back, and when we part, it feels bittersweet, “I’ll see you soon?” I nod, and he leaves as I go inside, I hear a loud, “WOOHOO!” And I can’t help but laugh because I have the funniest and cutest date possible. I cannot wait for Sunday,... Maybe I’ll see him before that. I tell my whole family, filled with excitement, “So are you going tomorrow to see him?” I grin at my mom, and I nod happily, “I think so.” 

[janeyseymour]

Anne Boleyn: Captain of the Chaos Squad- pt11

pt 1. pt 2. pt 3. pt 4. pt 5. pt 6. pt 7. pt 8. pt 9. pt 10.

Title: Out of the Kitchen

Anne Boleyn was never one to step into the kitchen- Jane Seymour had made that very clear after the first debacle that took place within their house.

What began as a nice day between the third queen from the second would turn out to be an escapade neither of the women were planning on dealing with that day.

“Janey, do you want to make cookies for me?” Anne slid onto the couch next to the blonde who was watching television in peace.

“Make them for you?” The silver queen’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t think so lovey.”

“W-Why not?”

“I’ll make them with you, not for you. And I do expect that the others and I will be able to enjoy some of the sweets as well?” she proposed.

The woman with space buns grinned at this. “That sounds like a good idea! What all do we need to bake cookies then?”

“You don’t know?” Jane couldn’t imagine not knowing how to bake. It came as a second nature to her. With a shake of the head from her predecessor, she began to list out the ingredients. “Flour, suga-”

“I’ll stop you right there,” the shorter woman interrupted. “We’re out of flour.”

“That’s impossible I bought some the other day for Catherine and Anna to make-”

“Do you remember when you were complaining the other day that there was just “so much dust” in the kitchen?” A smirk appeared on the green woman’s face. “When Anna brought it back to our apartment, she dropped it trying to put it in the cabinet for you.”

“You’re kidding,” Jane’s face morphed from shock to disappointment.

“‘Fraid not ol’ Janey. So, should we go to the store and get some?” Anne stood and offered a hand to her friend.

“Well, I suppose that’s just what we’ll have to do, now isn’t it?” She grabbed the hand being offered and allowed herself to be pulled off the couch.

The two found themselves at the grocery store with a basket full of flour among other baking needs. All was going well until Anne Boleyn decided to attempt to sneak other sweets into the basket without Jane noticing. And it was working. She had hidden a bag of gummy bears, a coca cola, a few packs of gum, some chocolate, and a pack of starbursts by the time they made their way up the register.

Jane was loading the groceries onto the conveyor belt when she eyed the woman accompanying her trying to grab her hidden gems and place them closer to the cashier to scan first.

“Anne Boleyn,” Jane’s voice was eerily low, low enough so that only Anne could hear her. “What have you done?”

The look Seymour was giving her alone was enough to make her tremble slightly, but along with the tone she was using? Well, the second queen knew she had made a mistake.

“Well, uh,” she scratched the back of her head as she thought of what to say. “You see, I think a little kid thought that our basket was hers and put her goodies into ours?”

“Hm,” Jane hummed. “So I suppose that this small child has all the same favorite sweets as you?” Anne nodded. “And I suppose that if I put it back, this small child wouldn’t know the difference, right?”

“Well, I mean... we don’t have to do that. We would have to get out of line and put it all back, so it’s really not worth the hassle,” the second monarch laughed nervously.

“Well, I can just tell the cashier I don’t wish to buy these add-ons. You know that dear.” The blonde’s voice was sickeningly sweet, but Anne knew the fire that was growing in her.

“Yeah, but I know you always feel bad doing that because then the workers have to put it back for you.”

“Well, you’re right I suppose. Just don’t pull any more shenanigans like this again. Understood?” Once again, her voice was dripping with honey, but it was not to be taken lightly, and the green queen knew that. With a quick nod, Jane continued to put the groceries on the conveyor belt.

The two had returned home and were getting ready to begin their adventure in baking.

“So, what’s the first step?” Anne looked at the woman in front of her curiously.

The third queen smiled softly. It was always nice to spend time with Anne. “Well love, the first step is to put on an apron. Lord knows you’re going to need it. And then I’m going to need you to wash your hands while I set everything out that we need.” And so, the two began their baking extravaganza.

“You have to level out the dry ingredients hun. If you don’t level it off, the cookies won’t bake properly.”

“Who says?”

“Me,” the woman in grey laughed while showing Boleyn how to even out the dry ingredients.

“Well,” Cathy smiled as she made her way to the coffee pot. “It’s actually a science. Chemistry.”

“That’s a better answer than yours, Janey,” Anne laughed. “So, now what?”

“Dump it into the bowl. Just make sure to do it gently because if you don’t, it’ll-” she was interrupted with a face full of flour and a nervous smile from her predecessor. “-go everywhere.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know that would happen.”

“It’s alright love.”

“So now that we’ve mixed the dry and wet ingredients separately, we have to mix them. Only do a little bit at a time though. Lord knows we don’t need more flour flying around the kitchen,” Jane instructed. “Think you can handle it while I clean up a bit?”

“You got it boss.” Anne mock-saluted her successor before turning to the ingredients.

“Annie, how have you only done like a quarter of the mixing?” Jane was shocked. It had taken her ten minutes to clean the various measuring spoons they had used before she had been dragged away for another ten minutes to help Katherine braid her hair.

“You told me small amounts!”

“How much have you been putting in at a time?”

“Like three of these?” the second queen held up a teaspoon. “I just didn’t want to make another mess.”

“Oh love,” Jane sighed goodheartedly. Her sweet friend was really trying. “You can do a bit more than that. Here, let me show you.” The blonde took the bowl of dry ingredients and dumped a good amount into the mixer before turning it on.

“Alright. I got it from here.”

“So now, you take a tablespoon and get some dough on it. Roll it into a ball like this, and then plop it down on the baking tray,” Jane explained as she demonstrated the first one. Anne followed her lead, and soon enough the two had a few baking trays full of cookie dough balls ready to be baked.

“You preheated the oven like I asked, right?” At the question, the green queen nodded. Surely she couldn’t have messed something as simple as pressing a few buttons up. Oh how wrong she had been.

“Wonderful love. Grab a tray and then we just have to pop these into the oven.” The third monarch picked up two trays and carried them across the kitchen. Opening the door to the oven, she was shocked to see all of their pots and pans still sitting on the racks. “Oh dear.”

“‘Oh dear’ what?” Anne glanced around the blonde. “Oh dear.”

“That’s quite alright love,” Jane assured her. “It’s an honest mistake. I’ve done it before. We’ve just got to get these out before popping the cookies in.”

A few minutes and curses later, the pots and pans had been taken out of the oven and replaced with the cookie trays.

“We have to set the timer for about eleven minutes. If they’re not done by then, we leave them for another two minutes.”

“Sounds good. Thank you for baking with me, you ol’ mom,” Anne joked as she gently pushed her friend.

“Of course sweetheart. It’s always nice to share my passions with you queens.” Jane pulled the green queen into a tight hug before pressing a kiss to her temple. “Thank you for asking me to bake with you.”

“Well, we both know if I tried to do that myself, we wouldn’t end up with cookies,” the second monarch laughed.

“I don’t doubt that what you’ve said is true,” Jane agreed in a silly manner before turning serious. “Now, while they’re in there baking, we might as well begin to clean up the mixer and bowls.”

In the middle of tidying up around the kitchen, Jane’s phone rang.

“This is Jane!” She answered the phone as happily as always.

“Seymour, it’s Cleves. My car broke down,” a rather panicked Anna of Cleves’ voice could be heard through the speaker.

“Where are you?”

“By Bryant Park. I’ve already had it towed and all that, but I don't know how I’m going to get back to my place.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen. It’s too cold to stand and wait for me, so go into the Whole Foods across the street and wait there.”

“Roger that. Thanks Seymour. You’re a lifesaver.”

“You goin’ to pick up Cleves?” Anne already knew the answer, but it didn’t hurt to confirm.

“I am. I trust you to not burn down the apartment in the thirty minutes I’m gone. When the timer goes off, check the cookies. If they’re golden brown, they’re done. Turn off the oven and let the cookies cool. I’ll be back soon.” The blonde pulled on her coat and made her way to the car to rescue the fourth queen.

Jane knew leaving the second queen home alone with an oven full of cookies that were bound to finish baking any minute was a risk, but she wasn’t about to let her successor freeze on her trek back to her apartment.

“Rounding the corner now,” Jane had been on the phone with the red queen. “Get ready to get in, I’m at a stoplight.”

“I see you. Unlock the door Seymour.” The blonde unlocked the car door and was hit with the bitter cold that was swirling around outside. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Not a problem Cleves,” Jane looked at the woman sympathetically. “Gosh, you must be frozen. How about you come back to my place and warm up a bit before we head back out into the cold to get you home?”

“If you and Bo are doing something though, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“It’s really not a problem. She’ll understand. And, if Annie didn’t mess it up, we should have cookies to offer you.”

“Bo baked?” the fourth monarch raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I helped direct her. She did a pretty good job. Let’s just hope she can follow through with the last bit.”

The instant the third and fourth queens entered Jane’s apartment complex, a smell of something burning hit them.

“I swear to-” Jane cut herself off. “If that’s coming from my apartment...” The two sped up their walking.

“What the hell?” The blonde threw open her door, her fears of the burning coming from her apartment being confirmed.

“I don’t know what happened!” Anne yelled frantically, the smoke from the oven still heavily present within the room. “The cookies were goo one second, so I left them in for five more minutes like you said to and-”

“Two minutes Anne! Two! On what planet do “five” and “two” sound identical?” Jane retorted as she hurried to the window and flung it open.

“Jane! It’s cold out!” the second queen protested, instantly wrapping her arms around herself.

“And our apartment is filled with smoke! It needs to be let out!”

“If you two need to be alone, I can call Cath-” Anna began.

“No!” The two women who lived in the apartment all but shouted at her, making the red queen throw her hands up in surrender.

“Okay! I’m sorry!” Cleves defended herself before making her way over to the oven and helping guide the smoke out the window.

Anne kept her eyes trained on the ground once the room was cleared, as she was determined not to let the blonde see the tears threatening to spill out, but her voice could be heard clearly saying guiltily, “I’m really sorry Janey. I didn’t mean-”

“It was a mistake Annie; it’s alright. I know you didn’t mean to almost set our apartment on fire,” she joked lightheartedly. “We just know not to do that again, yes?” With a nod from her counterpart, Jane continued. “Why don’t I whip us up some hot chocolate to warm us up? Yeah?”

“Let me,” the fourth queen offered. “It’s the least I can do for interrupting your baking together.”

“That’s very kind of you Cleves. Thank you.” Jane seemed satisfied to not have to be in the kitchen any longer. “Annie and I were just going to spend the day watching television and enjoying the warmth of our apartment if you’d like to join us before heading back home.”

“Bet,” the red monarch smirked before turning to make her infamous hot chocolate.

As the three settled on the couch, Anna of Cleves pulled a box out of her backpack.

“I assumed something like this would happen. Here’s some replacement cookies.” She opened the box and placed it on the coffee table in front of them.

“You little-” Anne howled with laughter, failing to pretend to be offended. The three plowed through the box in no time.

From then on, Anne Boleyn rarely made appearances to cook or bake in the kitchen. Sure, she ended up in that room in the apartment often to “annoy” her roommate (who would tell her it wasn’t annoying- it was nice having company while she cooked), but she would never be allowed to use any appliance other than the microwave again.

“What’s for dinner?” the green queen would ask almost every night. “Do you need any help? Can I put anything in the oven for you?” she would ask in a joking fashion.

“Darling, I love you and all, but please step out of the kitchen,” the blonde would reply without even looking up from whatever she was preparing for supper that day.

It was probably better that way.

[wordsablaze]

15~ someone you can trust

tell me your problems (i’ll chase them away) Internal scars can be difficult to deal with but Eskel vows to heal any that Jaskier is weighed down by if it’s the last thing he does…

A/N: okay so i’m sorry it’s been ages but here’s a slightly longer than usual dose of these dorks being in love that i hope compensates :)

previous chapter

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@random-nerd-3 @betaray-jones @w-s-kibela @in-love-with-writing002 @screaming-flapjacks @havenoffandoms @lasaga666 @mayastormborn @alllthequeenshorses @little-piece-of-tamlin @selectivegeekwithstandards

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Eskel wakes in an empty bed.

It’s more than a little disorientating because the last thing he can truly recall is getting onto Scorpion and he has no idea how they got back to the inn - if he really had been that injured and unaware of his surroundings, he doesn’t want to think about how low his chances of getting back in other circumstances would have been.

“Jaskier?” he asks as he bolts upright, then winces as the healing wounds on his back complain that he’s moved too fast. Giving himself a moment to adjust, he rolls his shoulders and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

He doesn’t get a reply, obviously, but Eskel can hear singing from below and he assumes the bard must be performing. He has no idea how Jaskier can perform for several days in a row, especially with his logic that every performance deserves his best efforts, but it’s impressive to say the least.

By the time he gets downstairs, the noise has died down almost entirely, which he’s been around long enough to know means the performance is close to ending. He orders food for both himself and Jaskier before settling at the only empty table, not bothering to ask for a drink because he’s more than sure Jaskier’s rose song will take care of that. And as expected, both Jaskier and two pitchers arrive at the table within the next few minutes.

“Eskel! What are you doing? Aren’t you meant to be resting?” Jaskier asks a little breathlessly before grabbing a drink and promptly finishing most of it.

He shrugs. “I’ve had long enough to rest.”

Jaskier smiles, then notices the plates and his eyes light up. “And you managed to get us food!”

Eskel frowns; he really didn’t think acquiring food would be considered such a hardship. Before he can ask what’s so special about it, Jaskier starts eating and, not wanting to interrupt that, he does the same. Except it’s not the same because Jaskier is doing something odd with his hands, in the sense that he seems to be trying not to do anything with his hands despite eating with them.

“Are you okay?” Eskel blurts.

Jaskier freezes mid-chew and smells like sharp panic for a good few seconds before he shakes his head and swallows, then nods quickly. “Of course. Whatever made you think otherwise, darling? I could not be better!”

Well, that’s not very convincing.

“Jaskier? Why are you lying?”

This time, Jaskier stops eating altogether. He smells like ash and mud and burnt vegetables and Eskel only has enough time to deeply regret his words before Jaskier is gone, an empty mumbled excuse hanging in the air between them as the red of the bard’s doublet disappears through the door.

Eskel curses.

He wants to immediately follow Jaskier like he had last time but he can’t just leave his lute lying around; he deposits it back in their room as fast as possible before leaving the inn, closing his eyes for a moment and letting himself seek out the warm honey and ink that the bard seems to leave a trace of wherever he goes.

Left.

Then right.

And right again.

Through a very narrow alleyway.

Left.

Around a bend.

And past a broken gate.

“Jaskier?” Eskel calls softly, but it’s not like he needs to; he’s in what seems to be an isolated patch of wildflowers and it’s clear which way the bard has run through them. Trusting his instincts, he walks over to the nearest tree and leans against it, sighing softly. “I apologise, bardling, I didn’t mean to… upset you. I was just worried, is all.”

He counts a full minute before Jaskier lands beside him. Literally lands beside him because he’d apparently been in the tree. He blinks, resisting every urge in his body that tells him to jump backwards, and glances over Jaskier, happy to find him uninjured at least.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Jaskier says quietly.

“You didn’t,” Eskel says immediately, then shakes his head when Jaskier raises an amused eyebrow at him. “Well, I suppose you did. But I only meant that you don’t need to lie if uh, if you’re not alright.”

Jaskier bites his lip as if he hadn’t considered that and whether or not Eskel had been worried before, he definitely is now. Still, he waits for Jaskier to finish contemplating whatever it is he’s contemplating, unwilling to risk offending him further and ruining yet another of his days - the bitter expression on the bard’s face when he’d thought Eskel was leaving yesterday is still fresh in his memory.

“I wasn’t lying,” Jaskier says eventually, his voice oddly thick, “I’m fine. I’m merely tired from playing for such an unprecedentedly energetic crowd but it's nothing a lovely meal and warm bath won’t fix. In fact, I very recently purchased some lovely rose oils and I simply cannot wait to use them.”

“Why didn’t you just say so back at the inn?” Eskel asks. Ash mixed with lavender. Something bad along with something good. Eskel has no idea what to make of Jaskier’s emotions because the bard himself can’t seem to pick between them.

Surprisingly, Jaskier steps back. “Alright so I may quite possibly be lying now. In truth, I didn’t purchase any rose oils because Alija ran out and I couldn’t bring myself to bother her with a singular order and really, that would take a week and a half at the very least, at which point we’d be long gone and it wouldn’t be worth all the hassle anyway. Did you know there are several different types of rose oils and only two of them are truly suitable for-?”

“Jaskier. Stop, please,” Eskel interrupts.

He stops.

Eskel sighs deeply before offering the bard what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Did something happen yesterday?”

Jaskier just shrugs, smirking a little.  “Nothing out of the ordinary, really. Giving an excellent performance, saving a ridiculous witcher, acquiring a meal free of charge, the usual results of my endless charm.”

“Then why did you run?” Eskel asks. He hates how this feels like some kind of interrogation but he can’t understand why the bard had gone from enjoying his food to seeking refuge in a tree and he doesn’t want it to become a recurring mystery.

“I don’t… I don’t know?” Jaskier replies eventually, frowning. But when Eskel says nothing because he knows better than to believe that, Jaskier sighs. “I just thought it’d be better if I gave you space. You’re already injured, I didn’t want to make it worse.”

There’s a moment in which Eskel debates on whether or not to tell Jaskier that he’s done nothing but somehow make life impossibly better, but he decides against it for the time being. Instead, he gently nudges Jaskier and shakes his head. “I didn’t need space. It’d have been better if you’d stayed.”

Jaskier blinks at him. “You mean that? Even though I, uhm, lied?”

“You don’t owe me total honesty,” Eskel replies, shrugging, “I was only asking in case there was something I could do to help.”

He doesn’t like the way Jaskier looks as though that’s a foreign concept to him. He also doesn’t like the way he’s immediately filled with the urge to find whoever’s responsible for that and make them regret it - he’s not even sure how he’d do that to be honest.

“As much as I appreciate that, darling witcher, I’m afraid it’s merely a consequence of providing so much bardic goodness to the world, nothing to be done about it. Should we- that is, would you like to return to the inn?” Jaskier asks, and still it’s unclear exactly what emotions he’s experiencing.

Eskel swallows down the instinct to ask anything more and simply holds out his hand. Jaskier hesitates for only a moment before a wide grin spreads on his face - accompanied with the scent of honey and ocean waves so he knows it’s not forced for the sake of politeness - and he slides his fingers into the gaps between Eskel’s.

Gods, he’s addicted to the feel of their hands being connected.

“I ought to thank you,” Jaskier whispers as they begin walking. “I simply have to thank you, really. For- for following me. I can’t say I was expecting it but I greatly appreciate it.”

“How did you learn to climb trees so well?” Eskel asks, unsure of how to react to such gratitude, glad that walking means he doesn’t have to face the heavy sincerity in Jaskier’s eyes.

Jaskier chuckles, squeezing his hand. “How else was I meant to observe the life of witchers without being devoured or torn apart or meeting some other equally ugly end?”

Eskel splutters on nothing in particular, turning to face the bard with wide eyes. Jaskier only raises an eyebrow and tilts his head to the side, and Eskel is abruptly reminded that he’s not the first witcher to be claimed by a bard.

“So you’d… watch from above?”

“Sometimes,” Jaskier replies, turning his head back towards the road, though his gaze seems to go somewhere far beyond the path, into a past that Eskel cannot follow no matter how hard he tries. “It wasn’t always an ideal plan if the monsters could climb too. Or fly.”

He thinks Jaskier’s pulse quickens but it’s back to normal before he can question it, and he wonders - not for the first time but certainly more deeply than he has before - just how different this version of the bard is from the version that Geralt had half-heartedly grumbled about over several winters.

Jaskier gasps sharply as they get back to the inn, letting go of Eskel’s hand and sprinting inside. When he too enters, Jaskier is standing by the table they’d previously occupied, his teeth worrying his lip as he frantically glances around.

“What is it?” Eske asks, concerned by the abrupt shift in mood.

“My lute! I left her behind! Eskel, I left her and she’s gone! Oh, how could I have been so careless? Stupid, stupid, stupid-”

“Wait, wait. Jaskier, your lute’s back in our room,” Eskel interjects, placing a hand on his arm and gently pulling his hand out of his hair where he’d started to pull on it.

“Back in our… what?” Jaskier trails off, predictably heading straight for the stairs as soon as the words register.

This time, he enters the room to see Jaskier kneeling on the floor, cradling his lute to his chest as if it were his child. Not that Eskel has much knowledge of what it’s like to cradle or be cradled but he’s been alive long enough to gather as much.

“I can never thank you enough,” Jaskier declares when their eyes meet.

Eskel’s face heats up and he shrugs, shutting the door behind him. “It was the least I could do, bardling.”

“You are impossibly considerate, my darling,” Jaskier says in the same no-argument tone, placing the lute down gently before rising to his feet and throwing himself at Eskel, his arms looping around the witcher’s neck.

None of Vesemir’s training had ever prepared him for anything like this.

“Your… your darling?” Eskel echoes. He knows Jaskier had referred to him as his witcher before but that was halfway in jest and regardless, to be known as someone’s witcher is hardly the same as to be known as someone’s darling.  

Jaskier pulls back, his palms settling against Eskel’s cheeks, the tips of his fingers sliding ever so nicely into his hair. “Are you alright with that?” he asks, his breath just about brushing over Eskel’s lips.

Eskel is honestly too busy wondering what he’s supposed to do with his hands to consider the concept properly. Thankfully, Jaskier seems to realise that and his sour-scented nerves dissolve into amusement, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles warmly, his thumbs tracing small curves under Eskel’s eyes. “I’ll let you think further on that, shall I?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply as being overly aware of how close they are means Eskel can clearly feel as Jaskier winces, even though his face barely gives his discomfort away. He frowns, covering Jaskier’s hands with his own and guiding them down between them, stepping back a little as he does.

“You’re hurt?” Eskel asks; Jaskier’s fingertips are red and warm to the touch and judging by the guilty expression on the bard’s face, that isn’t exactly normal.

“I- It happens. It’s only painful when I play for rather extended periods of time. I may have also used up the last of the salve I had without checking to see whether I would be able to acquire any more but it’s nothing serious, I promise,” Jaskier explains, pulling his hands out of Eskel’s grip.

Not that Eskel lets him, tightening his hold on Jaskier’s wrists only enough to keep them in place as he hums thoughtfully. “I might have a solution for that.”

Jaskier’s curiosity seems to outweigh any doubts he has and he shrugs. “Alright then, do your worst.”

“I’ll do my best for you, bardling,” Eskel chuckles, sitting down cross-legged in front of the bed and waiting until Jaskier does the same, which doesn’t take long on account of their hands still being connected.

Eskel lets go of Jaskier’s left hand and places both hands around his right one, guiding him into curling a fist and slowly letting it go again until his fingers are flat, stretched out. He repeats the process several times until Jaskier’s confusion fades into acceptance, then gently squeezes his hand reassuringly.

He finally takes his eyes off Jaskier and the bright awe in his eyes as he keeps one hand around the bard’s wrist to steady him and uses the other to gently rub circles into his first knuckle, moving along to the next after a few moments. Jaskier’s breath hitches as his fingers brush the calluses on his fingers and Eskel pauses, forcing his hand to slow down lest he ends up causing pain instead of relieving it.

It would be nothing short of a crime, he thinks, to be trusted with the hands of bard and break that trust by compromising their ability to play. In fact, the weight of trust Jaskier is placing in him by letting him, a witcher who more often than not uses his hands to create violence as opposed to comfort, do as he pleases lies heavy on his shoulders.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, moving onto the next finger and going a little more softly this time. There’s an unfamiliar scent around them, something quiet and golden and herbal, but Eskel doesn’t let his focus waver, making his way along each finger until he’s done, then carefully tugging on each one to stretch them and watching as Jaskier exhales, his shoulders relaxing.

Jaskier starts to pull his hand back as they both pause for a moment but Eskel laces their fingers together and shakes his head. “We’re only getting started yet,” he says quietly.

“My mistake,” Jaskier mumbles back, an easy smile playing at his lips.

Eskel uses their interlaced fingers to flex Jaskier’s wrist, slowly bending it in every direction before taking his hand back, stroking from the tips of his fingers to the edge of his palm, smiling each time Jaskier’s hand instinctively curls and he has to pull his fingers back. Jaskier seems to find it just as amusing as him, both of them laughing quietly when it happens for the fourth time and it seems like he’s simply attempting to steal Eskel’s thumb.

He flips Jaskier’s hand over and traces invisible paths from his nails to his wrist and back again. When he moves on to the skin between each finger, Jaskier gasps, not in pain but in something like surprise. Eskel waits for him to nod his approval before continuing, then repeating his earlier sequence of working his way down each knuckle, this time taking special care to focus on his fingertips and gently relax them.

“Almost there,” he murmurs as he moves his attention to Jaskier’s wrist, once again flexing his hand before rubbing upwards from the base of his palm. Jaskier shivers as Eskel’s fingertips run along his arm, his eyes falling shut as he leans his head back against the bed, the air around them filling with what must be the scent of sunbeams themselves.

When Eskel is satisfied that he’s made a difference, he laces their fingers together again and squeezes gently, letting Jaskier take his time to react. And take his time he does; Eskel is beginning to suspect he’s fallen asleep to the feeling of Eskel’s thumb tracing patterns onto his hand when Jaskier finally opens his eyes.

“How did you learn to do this?” Jaskier whispers, his voice ever so quiet and thick with a gratitude that Eskel’s not sure he deserves for something so simple.

Eskel shrugs. “Just here and there.”

“You amaze me,” Jaskier says, and Eskel can smell nothing but genuine admiration in his voice; he has to look away so he doesn’t do anything to embarrass himself.

He’s internally very pleased that he’d managed to help though. It only feels right to have been of some comfort after Jaskier had managed to get him back to a bed in one piece yesterday and although he’s not even remotely well-versed in articulating his appreciation, at least he can pay some of that concern back.

Jaskier pokes his forehead.

“What-?” Eskel manages, jerking back a little.

Not very successfully holding back a grin, Jaskier shrugs. “You were frowning again. What else was I meant to do?”

Eskel blinks slowly, then lets himself laugh. He’s half-aware that it wasn’t quite funny enough to warrant the way he laughs so hard that he almost starts struggling to breathe but he’s lost in the freedom of this casual hysteria for longer than he’ll later admit to and, in the moment, he can’t bring himself to feel bad about it.

When he recovers, there’s a sparkle in Jaskier’s eyes that hints at something dangerous, something like fondness, something that Eskel wants to keep close for as long as possible. And if he is to take Jaskier for his word, keeping it - keeping him - close is actually far from impossible. What a strange and hopeful prospect.

“I find myself needing to thank you once again, Eskel. I already feel a hundred times better,” Jaskier says, pulling his hand free and flexing his fingers gently as he stretches his legs out in front of him.

Eskel raises an eyebrow, holding his hand out with the palm facing upwards. “Your other hand, if you wouldn’t mind. I’m not done.”

“Oh,” Jaskier whispers, biting his lip for a moment. “Are you sure you have time?”

“I’m meant to be resting anyway, aren’t I?” Eskel asks.

At that, Jaskier’s expression brightens once more and he nods. “Yes, of course you are. I suppose this works out for the best then, doesn’t it?”

It does, but their reasoning is likely very different. Eskel doesn’t comment on that, simply shifting so he’s facing Jaskier, taking his hand and starting the same way he had before, curling his fingers into fists before stretching them out again.

Since he’s more aware of how much pressure to apply this time, his left hand is a much quicker process than the right. Again, both of them laugh as Jaskier’s fingers automatically wrap around Eskel’s thumb when he moves it over his palm. And again, both of them smile as Jaskier’s breath hitches when Eskel’s fingers brush over his calluses. But this time, Jaskier doesn’t make a sound as Eskel finishes up by lacing their fingers together, and the air around them is neither warm nor golden, unexpectedly salted.

Eskel glances up sharply to see Jaskier using his free hand to push tears away from his eyes. He lets go of Jaskier’s hand immediately, shuffling backwards as his stomach drops. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. What did I do wrong?”

Jaskier lets out a noise that would land somewhere between a laugh and a sob before shaking his head. “No, no no no. It wasn’t- I mean, nothing hurts. I… I’ve been a bard since I was a child and nobody has ever… Nothing has ever helped like this.”

Oh.

Eskel doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t even try to think of anything, just silently moves so that he’s propped against the bed too, his arm leaning against Jaskier’s as he too stretches out his legs in front of him. Wordlessly, Jaskier takes his hand, squeezing carefully before his head lands on Eskel’s shoulder; Eskel tenses for a second before exhaling and forcing his muscles to relax again, adjusting so Jaskier’s head is in a comfortable position.

“You have my utmost thanks but I think I’m going to fall asleep now,” Jaskier mumbles.

“I don’t mind,” Eskel whispers. He thinks he should mind in some way or the other but he also just doesn’t have any reasoning that’s good enough to refuse the honour of acting as a pillow.

Granted, It feels a little strange to remain as still as possible whilst the bard dozes off but really, it’s nothing he hasn’t done before when various animals - usually goats - have fallen asleep in his lap or on his limbs. Although he’s almost certain that no other experience, no matter how small or adorable the animals may be, will ever compare to the soft and gratifying weight of Jaskier seeking comfort in his presence.

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shout out and thank you to @jayjayjayne for being absolutely lovely and inspiring the idea of a hand massage - i hope i did it justice <3

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thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher sideblog: @itsjaskier​ | next chapter

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Working Like a Charm

Sammie Smith’s body ached. Every muscle screamed to the high heavens, lamenting long hours of work, telling a tale of soreness and overexertion. He could feel how sunken his eyes must have looked but avoided rubbing them.

Numb to the layers of grit and filth from the coal mine that clung to every surface of exposed skin, his weary calloused hands burned from clutching tools for as long as he had. Still was he clutching them now, carrying his heavy shovel and pickaxe on a shoulder. Part of why “Baron” Callan had hired him—he brought his own tools to work.

The day had been entirely too damned long, he thought. His head hung low, he looked forward to crashing into his creaky old rocking chair, warming up a bowl of beans, taking a bath, and getting a good night’s sleep. Night came fast this time of year, and the day had dragged on into overtime due to a cave-in, setting them back and subjecting the workforce to Callan’s barking admonitions. At least nobody had gotten hurt in the accident.

Sammie’s feet dragged and kicked up tiny clouds as he walked the dusty road back to his home on the edge of Dead End.

His shanty little shack stood amid a copse of trees, just far away enough from the town’s center that he needed not deal with the raucous noise from the saloon or the farrier’s daily toil or other busywork in the rugged frontier town, but not so far away that it made fetching water and supplies too much of a hassle.

He tripped over something, stumbled a few steps, and caught himself before gravity could drag him down. Sammie slowly turned to look at what had snagged his boot.

A linen sack. Sopping wet and dark in color. About the size of a human head.

It took him several moments to register what he was looking at. For the realization to sink in. He lost track of time, oblivious to how long he was standing there, staring at the linen sack, piecing together why his own brain figured it to be the size of a human head, or that the stain in the coarse cloth and on the dirt around it had to be blood.

And then his mind snapped onto a decision. He did what he believed every other conscientious citizen of their fine town should do upon finding a severed head by the roadside on their way home. He kicked it away with full force, cringing at the squelching sound and how little it flew past the shrubs, heavy with fluid, and it flopped unevenly, disappearing awkwardly into the shade of the underbrush.

He had been stealing pennies from Callan and often cheated at cards. He had pissed off plenty of people around town in some of his bouts of drunken aggression, and Sammie did not want to have Sheriff Moody on his ass for accusations of a murder he did not commit.

With a heavy sigh and hoping to leave the severed head behind for wild animals and vermin to claim, he continued his way home.

Only about thirty paces away from his shack, he stopped and groaned, beginning to second-guess and regret what he had just done. If it did draw wild animals, they would be a bit too close to his hut for comfort. And leaving it there for some rascal or dog to find might just make people think he did it either way.

Branches bent and snapped as he hastily dumped his tools by the side of the dirt path and started poking around in the bush where the head in the burlap sack had rolled off to.

Sammie swore up a storm as he searched. The blood drained more and more from his head with every second, a sense of dread forming a knot in his stomach as he could not find it and began to imagine people pointing and laughing while they hanged him from the gallows.

It had not flown far. How in tarnation could he not have found it already?

Glass shattered and metal clattered, and the burst of ruckus stopped him dead in his tracks. Sammie’s head jutted over, and he craned his neck over the edge of the bushes to peer at his shack.

Someone was in there.

The murderer?

He could feel his heart pounding away as it uncomfortably pumped blood through his throbbing chest, digits, and ears. Even his belly pulsed with his festering sense of fear.

Straining his eyes to see inside the darkness behind the small and shoddy windows of his cabin, he could not make out anybody in there. Eagerly awaiting a motion to make itself noticed.

He licked his parched lips and returned to his tools, keeping his eyes trained on his home. He ducked down, pawing at the first wooden shaft his hands found purchase on, then gripped the pickaxe in both hands.

Step by step, careful to not make too much sound as he approached, he drew his axe up high above his head, ready to swing it and kill if need be.

The closer he drew to the shabby front door of his cabin, the more subtle sounds he perceived from inside: scratching, followed by a man’s clipped cough, followed by wooden objects scraping against each other, followed by what sounded like someone smacking their lips—

Sammie arrived by the door. His heart throbbed with such pounding force that it felt like it was trying to escape every orifice, trying to drown out every little noise.

He kicked the door and started swearing once the sensation of the jolt reached his ankle and knee—the door just rattled in its hinges, refusing to yield anything but additional pain in his already sore leg. He lost balance and stumbled away, using the pickaxe to brace himself from falling, skidding across the dirt.

Whoever had invaded his home did not react to his fumbling around outside. Still sounded like someone was eating in there.

Was this rat bastard eating his jerky supplies?

The fury welling up in his gut—being stolen from, being possibly framed for murder, making a fool of himself in failing to kick his own door open, frustrated by the ghoulish foreman and “Baron” at work, being too tired for any of this—somehow eclipsed his fear.

Fuming, Sammie ripped the door open, gripping the pickaxe in one hand, knowing it might as well just scare off the scoundrel to show he could drive the pick right through him if he started messing around.

One step beyond the threshold, he froze.

Faint light from the setting sun poured in through the cabin’s small windows, revealing a cloud of dust motes to be dancing in the rays. The smell of feces and vomit lingered in the air, like someone had dragged the horse trough from outside the saloon into here.

A stranger sat at his table, eating. Eating what looked to be shards of glass in one of Sammie’s wooden bowls. The stranger smacked his lips and the glass crunched between his teeth as he chewed, with rivulets of blood trickling down his chin. He looked like he had once sported a dapper black suit and jacket, like someone far more well off than Sammie—like a businessman from Louisville—but myriads of dark spots and dust marred his attire, like he had been rolling around in the dirt and human refuse.

And his hands were slick and shiny with crimson. His fingers looked way too thin at the tips, all pointy and narrow, mismatched with the rest of his meaty palms.

The stranger met Sammie’s horrified gaze with an air of confounded indifference about him, idly crunching down on the glass being ground down between his teeth. His eerily thin fingertips gingerly grabbed another shard from the pile of broken bottles in the bowl in front of him and guided it to his mouth.

He opened his mouth and revealed a nightmare of blood and shiny jagged bits, teeth painted in black and red.

The pickaxe landing on the floorboards with a heavy thud helped Sammie break out of his trance. All semblance of fatigue had escaped his weary body and he now felt lightheaded, his stomach churning and turning upside down like it needed to expel his meager lunch, and his knees buckled for a split second before he braced himself against the frame of his front door.

The stranger stopped chewing. Swallowed with visible effort and a loud gulping sound to accompany it. Coughed, choked, gurgled. Swallowed again.

He tilted his head and stared Sammie in the eyes. Piercing, unblinking. Uncaring of the blood dripping from his own chin.

“I—”

The glass-eater spoke and coughed. He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I, too, have discovered, that poring over the secret pages of Doyle, I sometimes feel the distant spirit of God,” said the glass-eater. Blood bubbled from between his lips and stilted his otherwise eerily calm manner of speaking. “On the whole, our questions are quickly eaten by the—by the—”

His words trailed off. His gaze remained fixed upon Sammie, going blank.

“W-who? Who are you?” Sammie finally asked.

He wanted to crouch down and snatch the pickaxe back up, but it was all too weird. The stranger, this glass-eater, had clearly lost his mind, but he was not threatening him in any way. Just sitting there with a calm that did not match the damage he was doing to himself in eating all those glass shards.

The glass-eater blinked, finally, reminding Sammie of a human. His focus returned; his gaze hardened again.

“Who are you?” the glass-eater echoed him, almost mimicking his tone.

Was that a mockery?

Sammie almost shook his head as much as his mind told him that was not the case. The glass-eater had repeated his question more like children learning how to speak by mimicking the words of adults they heard spoken.

He swallowed the dry lump of coal dust and grit and fear that had lodged itself into his parched throat and started thinking differently.

Maybe this glass-eater fellow needed help.

“You don’t look alright, man,” said Sammie. “I can get you a doc. You want me to get you a doc?”

Glass-eater tilted his head the other way and did not answer the question. Instead, without breaking eye contact, he picked up another shard and brought it to his lips, parting them and inserting it into his bloodied jaws.

Crunch, crunch.

“You, uh, you know where you at? This is my home,” Sammie said. “I can get you—I will go get a doc, alright?”

Crunch. Crunch. Dead stare.

“Maybe, uhm, stop eatin’ all that—uh, all that glass?”

Crunch. Staring unbroken.

“I will go find the doc,” Sammie said, walking out of his cabin without turning his back, not daring to turn until he had distanced himself from the door by several slow and careful paces, as one should in the presence of a beast in the wild.

Slowly peeling his gaze from their unnervingly long eye contact, he shot a glance over his shoulder every few steps, making sure that the crazy man still sat there and did not just jump up from the chair and give chase.

Instead, he continued to calmly eat more of the broken glass. With growing distance, Sammie could not hear those blackened teeth crunching down on the shards. He merely heard the haunting echo of it in his mind.

Crunch, crunch. Crunch.

His pace accelerated and he nearly jogged the last bit towards the rows of buildings that constituted Dead End’s main street. Bumped right into someone, nearly falling onto his ass as he stumbled sideways past the next person.

A man in black, standing tall, the powder of the trails sticking to a long duster coat. U.S. Marshal’s star on his belt, two six-shooters slung into holsters hanging from a belt around his hips. A visage featuring a symmetry broken up only by a milky-white eye, framed by a scar speaking volumes of a beast’s claw raking over the lawman’s face.

The marshal’s one good eye scanned Sammie up and down while he caught himself. Sammie nearly soiled his pants right then and there, at the mere thought of all the trouble he might get into if this lawman got on his case and misunderstood the situation somehow. Just find the doctor, now, and—

“What in the hell is wrong with you, son?” asked the marshal with a growl. “You look like you seen a ghost.”

He tipped his hat at Sammie and hooked a thumb into his belt, demonstratively flapping open one side of his coat to display the badge and one of his revolvers.

“O-oh, uh, it's—it’s, uh, it's—uhm, it’s nothin’, sir,” stammered Sammie. “Jus’ lookin’ for a, uh, physician, bit of a personal medical ‘mergency?”

He silently cursed himself for being such a bumbling coward, now of all times. Swallowed another lump stuck in this throat. His heart now pounded as fiercely as it had when he found the severed head.

Shit. The severed head.

Sammie had nearly forgotten about that.

The marshal took a step closer towards him and lowered his voice to what could only be described as a conspiratorial whisper, “Listen, I know there are strange things goin’ on in this town. You lead me to 'em, I oughtta have a shot at fixin’ these things somehow.”

He rolled his jaw and then set it while he awaited a response from Sammie. Sammie’s mind and thoughts however melted into a puddle of worthless soup.

Sammie blurted out the words, “Ah, shit, m-man—uh, I mean, uh—I-I need your h-help, sir.” He then lowered his voice to a desperately pleading hiss. “There’s some crazy man in my house. H-he's—he’s eatin’ glass, man. And talkin’ weird.”

He could get to the head later. Or maybe that would never come up.

Sammie held his breath, ready to soon be staring down the wrong end of one of those revolvers.

Instead, the marshal nodded and ordered, “Show me.”

He led the lawman back down the trail. Noticed a whiff of something dead and rotten about him, leaving him to wonder if something was not off about the marshal, as well. At the very least, Sammie hoped, that might throw him off from noticing a head in the sack out in the bushes nearby. Then he wondered if it was even a human head in there, as he had never bothered to look inside. Then he quietly scolded himself to shut about it already, like he might draw attention to the bloody linen sack if he thought too much about it.

Approaching the cabin, hasty step by step, he expected to find the glass-eater missing and putting him in the predicament of having to explain things. Things like this did not happen. Should not happen.

Some part of him dreamt that this was just a nightmare, and he was about to wake up anytime soon. No such luck, though. His body still ached from the day, the sun set on the horizon, and every step hurt his blistered right heel. It was all too real.

Like a dream, he hoped to cross that threshold and find no sign of the glass-eater. To find everything in its rightful place, to wonder if he was just losing his own damned mind.

But Sammie froze by the door. The stranger still sat there, gingerly picking up another shard of glass, bringing it to those bloodied split lips and the crimson fluids running down his chin in rivulets, and then chewing on the shard.

Crunch, crunch. For some reason, it reminded Sammie of bones now. Like this was the sound that bones made when something ate them. Snapping, cracking, crunching.

Crunch. Crunch.

A calloused hand clapped down on Sammie’s shoulder, tearing him out of this new daze of his. The marshal squeezed his shoulder for a second and then pushed past him, stepping inside the cabin.

“Sir?” the marshal asked. “This your home?”

Even with his back turned to Sammie, the marshal’s presence was imposing. All dressed in black and looking weathered, it was like he absorbed all the remnants of light in these gloomy cramped quarters, like he had a strange inverse halo about him where all light bent and gathered around him.

Crunch, crunch.

The glass-eater tilted his head again, just like he had when speaking with Sammie.

“Yes, of course this is my home,” the stranger spoke, another bubble forming between his tortured lips.

Unfazed by his condition and what all those shards must have been doing to his—in his—

Sammie fought the urge to throw up at the thought. The marshal cast an inquisitive glance over his shoulder, catching Sammie’s gaze. For a moment, he worried if he had to argue about some crazy man walking onto his property and getting other people to testify that this was, in fact his home.

The marshal did not question it, though, instead turned his attention right back to the glass-eater.

“All under the sky is my home, now, as we awaken, sea, by sea,” said the stranger, cementing what the lawman must have instinctively grasped. “You are a child of the mountains. I am the ocean.”

His thin fingers—and only now, somehow, as it grew darker, did it dawn on Sammie what was so off-putting about them—grabbed another shard from the bowl. His fingers looked the way they did because all the skin and nails from their tips had been flayed off somehow. Just bloodied skeletal husks of what they must have been, thinning towards the tips.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

“That so?” asked the marshal. He shot another glance at Sammie, his brow arched.

The marshal knew. He understood the insanity of this situation. The madness of that man.

To the glass-eater, he then added, “You touch any… strange objects lately, sir?”

Crunch, crunch.

“You involved on the rail work between here and Louisville?”

Crunch.

The glass-eater tilted his head again. More blood trickled from the corner of his sealed lips. His eyes sparkled with something strange in the dying light.

Crunch.

“You even remember a name anymore?”

Crunch. Crunch, crunch.

The glass-eater grabbed another shard, not breaking eye contact with the marshal.

“My name is the many, and my song is the return. I am the ocean,” he finally replied, putting particular emphasis on the word “am”. It echoed in Sammie’s mind.

The marshal violently expelled air from his nostrils, something in between a sigh and a groan.

“Shit,” he said.

In a flash, loud claps of gunshots pierced the air. The stinging smell of gunpowder soon hit Sammie’s nostrils. The deafening noise startled Sammie, sending him reeling, stumbling backwards, away from the eruptions of muzzle flashes brightly illuminating the gloomy cabin for split seconds. Then another volley of shots ripped, fired from both revolvers, one in each hand of the marshal.

The glass-eater dropped the shard into the bowl and looked down at his chest, now pockmarked with pitch-black bleeding bullet holes. He probed one of the wounds with those skeletal fingertips, almost in disbelief. Not trembling with fear or weakness—no—with a certainty that seemed wholly unnatural.

More thunderclaps, more shots released from the revolvers until both weapons had been emptied through repeated fire. The glass-eater slumped over the table, the wooden bowl with the glass hurtled to the floor where the shards sprayed in every direction with high-pitched clinking, and the stranger stopped moving.

Frozen in shock, Sammie knew not what to do.

Why in God’s name had he just shot the man?

“Too late to save that poor bastard. Too far gone,” the marshal growled, followed by another sigh; almost as if he had read Sammie’s mind and responded to his thought.

The floorboards thumped and thundered, and spurs jingled, as the marshal strode through the narrow cabin’s interior, closing in on the dead body of the glass-eater. He poked him with the smoking barrel of one of his pistols, then used it to lift the lifeless head and ensure the stranger had expired. A veritable vomit of blood poured out from the dead man’s half-open mouth.

Still dumbfounded and with a panic budding deep down, Sammie was only moments removed from running away and looking for help. Because now he feared the marshal again, perhaps far more than ever before.

What if he found the head? Blamed it on him? Blamed glass-eater on him Gunned him down without question? Without trial?

The thoughts circled at the speed of a hundred miles a minute, but they also rooted him firmly in place while the marshal’s eyes scanned Sammie’s meager possessions around the cabin. Then their eyes met again.

“You hold on, sir,” the marshal said, taking a step towards him. “I will get this mess cleaned up, lickety-split. Damn shame he had to ruin your home like that. And I reckon I, uh—I apologize for the holes I put into your back wall.”

He had already holstered the guns, which had happened so quickly that Sammie never registered it. He wanted to back away, but now dreaded seeing those guns flash right back out, giving him the same treatment of judge, jury, and executioner, all in one.

Instead, the marshal dug around in his duster and produced a silver amulet. Its shape looked foreign, odd—not a crucifix, not a locket, not a pocket watch—before he could discern its precise form, the marshal clutched it firmly in his fist and whispered something incomprehensible.

A warm light flared up in the cabin for a split second. The stench of rotten eggs suddenly filled the air, adding to Sammie’s nausea. And he heard something fidget in there, just out of sight. The marshal looked at a corner—focused on something just out of sight for Sammie. He only needed to step inside to follow his gaze, but—

Something held him back. Something in there had appeared out of nowhere, and it unsettled him deeply. Made his mind race even faster, so fast he could not form a single coherent thought.

“You clean up here, alright?” the marshal spoke to whoever was in the corner.

Pause. Scratching sounds.

“No, we will not discuss this now. Just clean it up, and we can bicker later,” the marshal said, responding to seemingly nothing.

Another long pause, more scratching sounds. Someone else was in there. Or something.

The marshal walked outside the front door, paused, swiveled, and closed the door behind him. He cracked a feeble smile at Sammie, something that screamed of dishonesty. Or perhaps pain. Or regret.

Sammie did not know what to do. He had to tell others about this. Get word out. They might think he was crazy, but if the marshal was truly crazier than him and the glass-eater combined, then he might find protection in numbers. Hell, maybe even that useless sheriff might help cover him if the going got rough.

The marshal lifted the amulet to eye height between them and then let it drop. It dangled from its silvery chain and Sammie tried to study it as it swung back and forth.

Up close, it looked like a long, steel cylinder, roughly the length of half his pinky finger. Reddened grooves coiled around it at rhythmically pleasing intervals, and strange symbols etched into the side formed a harmonic pattern all over its surface. The symbols reminded him of arithmetic, for some reason, though Sammie was illiterate.

“Look at the amulet, sir,” said the marshal, his voice now flat and calm. Almost soothing. “Next thing you know, all these worries o’ yours will be wiped away.”

Another flash of light. Next thing Sammie knew, he was walking down main street, in Dead End. No recollection of anything that had just transpired.

His body ached. Every muscle in him complained about the long day of toil behind him. He just yearned to sink into a bath and wash off all the grit and filth from the coal mine. His weary calloused hands burned from clutching the pickaxe and shovel that he carried on his shoulder. His tired gait gained more zest as he veered off to the side, taking the open spot between the buildings and following the dirt path back to his cabin.

The day had been entirely too damn long, he thought. His head hung low, he looked forward to crashing into his creaky old rocking chair, warming up a bowl of beans, taking a bath, and getting a good night’s rest.

Night had somehow come faster than it should have, he reckoned. They had worked late, but he must have been so tired that he did not realize how fast the sun set on his way home.

Must have just been that time of year.

Sammie’s feet dragged and kicked up tiny clouds as he walked the dusty road back to his home on the edge of Dead End.

He did not trip over anything this time. He did not notice anything amiss in his cabin when he plunked down his tools on the table and looked around for some jerky to bite. He went about the rest of his evening. Oblivious to what had happened here earlier.

Something had reached deep inside his mind and scrubbed it clean. No head, no glass-eater, no marshal, no shooting, no talisman. Just some missing time he could explain away.

The marshal’s talisman worked like a charm.

—Submitted by Wratts

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ'ꜱ ᴛᴡᴏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇꜱ | ᴊᴏɴᴀᴛʜᴏɴ ᴊᴏᴇꜱᴛᴀʀ x ᴄɪᴠɪʟɪᴀɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | Yakuza!AU [𝕁𝕁𝔹𝔸] One-Shot

Here’s the next one~ two more left~! hehe Here’s the Civilian’s perspective and first meeting with Jonathon~! I hope you guys enjoy this and thank you all so much for the support for this AU! ;;

**WARNING: There is going to be a lot of mention of torture and bodily harm within these stories in this AU so please, if you are uncomfortable with the subject or have a weak stomach DO NOT READ.

TW; Blood ; Injuries ; Mutilation ; Torture

» » Admin Ko

»»————-　♔　————-««

Perhaps it was a mistake. A trick of the eye. Yet no matter what sort of explanation was being formed, none of them came close to even properly processing what they bore witness to. No matter how much they pleaded, or how calm they tried to be in worming their way out of death’s hold those eerily calm blue eyes gave no indication as to how they would meet their demise.

A rumor that plagues the streets, and warns all those who dare to venture out at night: that no matter who you are, or what you do for a living; if you run into a Joestar it’s almost certain that they’re never seen or heard from again. They’re put in the pages as missing, and the families go on to mourn them as if they’ve died some sort of heroic death, when really that’s never the case. Especially with the Joestar family.

“I’ve heard nothing but...good things from this establishment. What’s the clientele like? The day to day basis of it all?”

Despite the allusion to a casual and almost light conversation, the man firmly held down against his office chair thought otherwise. Practically stunned into silence when the head of the Joestar syndicate waltzed into his abode; he couldn’t help but stammer and attempt to worm his way out of the uncomfortable grasp of the large man’s two guards.

Though he stiffened at the vexed exhale that escaped the domineering man’s lips. A look of indifference settling in his eyes as a shiver of unease rolled down the seated man’s spine. The tension in the room practically suffocating as the intimidating figure that was Jonathon Joestar stepped into his personal space. 

“Speechless? I suppose that makes sense in one way or another...I normally  allow you to have one of your workers be here with you, but they’re all dead aren’t they?”

As the words left his lips, the imaginary coil that was wrapping around his neck tightened. The feeling of dread prickling against his skin as he could practically hear the cries of his workers. The pleading for their lives and the messy arguments to why they should live continued to pelt down on his back as the overwhelming stench of blood filled his senses.

“Apologies, I should’ve cleaned up a bit more before we paid you a visit....but I couldn’t help but provide you with a...reminder.”

Choking on his words, the man tried to reason with the normally compassionate leader before a thick hand wrapped around his throat. Promptly shutting down all possibilities as a sinister smile formed on the younger man’s lips. 

“Now then....shall we begin with our little discussion?”

»»————-　♔　————-««

It had been an accident. The moment she walked down the wrong alleyway to return home, she knew her life was going to change. Having only just moved into the area, she was unaware of the rumors and whispers that floated around the supposedly quaint city. 

Despite having pushed the rumors off, she couldn’t help but mentally curse herself for not paying the least bit of attention to the words that flew around the city. For now, what she saw was something so much more worse and frightening than anything she’s ever experienced in her life.

The smell of blood and the faint whimpers of a human echoed throughout the dark alleyway as her (e/c) took in the gruesome sight. Bloodied and beaten, the man-- or what was once considered a man, laid crumpled in a broken pile on the floor. Blood was gushing out at an alarming rate as she swore she could see the man’s shin bone peeking out of broken and bloodied flesh. One of his eyes lifeless while the other stared straight at her. Practically begging for some sort of help.

Instead, she felt bile work it’s way up her throat as she took a step back. The sight and smell too much for her. Yet, as she took a step back she bumped into a large solid mass. Heart stuttering in her chest she couldn’t help but feel a horrid chill roll down her spine as a scream was itching to rip out of her throat. 

“Oh? A lost little bunny? My apologies, as I wish you hadn’t walked down this...path.”

The voice was cold and collected, yet with a hint of kindness interlaced that she couldn’t help but cling onto as she slowly looked up to meet swirling blue eyes peering straight into her soul. 

“m..’m s-sorry...” 

A soft and pained whimper escaped her. The atmosphere making her tremble in absolute fear as she finally noticed the blood and flesh that clung to his once pristine shirt.

“No need to apologize. If I’m correct, you’re new to this city. Aren’t you?”

A hesitant nod was given in response as she couldn’t find the words to even form a proper sentence. The fear that oozed off of her hadn’t gone unnoticed to the large man as he let out a sigh before beckoning a finger for his companion to appear.

“Yes, Mr Joestar?”

“Clean up the mess for me. I apologize that I won’t be able to help, but I’d like to clear up some...things.”

“Not a problem. I will await for you by the car until you are finished sir.”

“Thank you SpeedWagon.”

Watching the exchange, she couldn’t help but feel another bour of adrenaline kick into her system as she tightly held onto her clothes. The only purchase she had to at least ground herself and not run away, lest she wanted to end up like the man on the ground. 

She watched as the man called SpeedWagon approached, passing by her without remorse or even a look of acknowledgement. Though before she could even get a good look at the man, her attention was pulled back to the ‘Mr. Joestar’. He offered his hand to her, the action would’ve been seen as kind if not for the situation she was in. Though to not anger him or invoke a sort of grudge from the man, she hesitantly let go of her clothes to place one of her shaking hands into his steady one.

“Despite being new around here, you’ve seemed to have picked up at least a couple of things. You’re quite the observant person.”

“W...What do you mean?”

Confusion was evident in her voice. She hadn’t been observant, rather unlucky and dumb for not paying attention to the warnings everyone around her gave her.

“You didn’t run and start screaming like a banshee for one. Any person who isn’t at least well acquainted with this city would’ve tried to call the police or scream for help, but instead you stayed silent and instead have chosen to walk with me.”

With that he turned to face her. His expression oddly serene and kind though she knew better. Despite not having witnessed the brutal beating, she could already tell this man that stood before her was someone to not mess with. Nor get on the bad side of, and no matter what she did now she wasn’t sure she could get away completely unscathed. 

“So how’s this, we’ll make a little...deal. You’ll survive this whole ordeal and live on the life you wish, but I’d like for you to be my...friend. It may not seem like it, but I am quite curious about the simple life that so many people live. I believe this isn’t too much of a hassle, after all I’m merely asking for simple meetings with you.”

Even with the statement and logical side of thinking, she couldn’t help but feel her gut plummet into the ground at the statement. She was thankful of course, for being able to live and continue to see another day, but to be...friends? With a psychotic man? No doubt someone who dealt with the underground world? She wasn’t sure, but.... weighing her options, she found herself looking up at him as the words that left her lips sealed her fate with the man.

“...Deal. When will our first meeting be?”

And with the grin of a devil, he met her gaze strongly.

“Glad you see it my way, how’s this weekend sound?”

[enigma-im]

Nothin’ But a Good Time

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Dremora (Demon) X Male!Human (Nord) Warning: Anal, Demon sex, Deals with a demon, Skyrim, blowjobs, handjobs

Word count: 2676

Summoning an unbound Dremora means that it can turn on you. This Dremora has a better idea than just killing the summoner.

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'Summon an unbound Dremora' it was a difficult spell and a dangerous one at that. To conjure a Dremora was on its own, dangerous. To conjure one that you know will attack you is just plain stupid. Yet, desperate times call for desperate measures.

The dungeon wasn’t a challenge for a mage as talented as myself. It was almost comical to be tasked with a quest like this. The Skeevers die on sight, the Draugers are similar to practice dummies, the puzzles are elementary at best. I will be paid in no time at this rate. If only every mission was like this.

As I near the final room I learn that extending some modesty once in a while might be beneficial to me and my ego.

The room ends with a dragon priest instead of my anticipated Deathlord. I really should have kept my mouth shut but the new reward of a mask keeps my spirits high. I face the spirit with a new wave of optimism and cockiness until the graves give way to Draugers. This is fine, I can deal with that. Down the way towards the floating priest two more coffins give way to Deathlords, alright this is less ok.

The battle is full of loud explosions of fireballs and lightning strikes. The Draugers become more of a hassle as anytime I try to deal with them I have to take my attention from the three major threats in the cavern. I take to summoning familiars and Atronachs, drinking bottles after bottles of Magicka. I pick off bits of health from the Deathlords as I try to avoid hits from the priest. His magic staff is becoming too much a problem that I fear I may lose my life this day.

Carding around the edges of the room for the hundredth time I take a direct hit from the Dragon Priest's staff. I hit the ground harder than reasonable, sliding along the uneven cobble on my shoulder. I quickly attempt to stand but the room turns, I fall back with a heavy sigh. I see the low life Draugers come in for the kill. In a last-ditch effort, I cast one more summoning spell, conjuring the one being I swore I wouldn't.

In a swirl of black and purple, a Dremora is officially summoned. Without preamble, the dangerous demon snaps forward and fast. It takes on the Draugers quickly with inhuman strength and speed. As everyone is distracted I look through my bag for potions or food, knowing the unavoidable battle that will come to me.

I watch from the corner of my eye at the Deadra armored beast fights. It takes care of the undead creatures very well, finishing off a Deathlord in the time it took me to swallow down minor healing. Once I catch my bearings I stand and begin to loot through the dead bodies, begging to gods for a potion or two. When that, thing, is done it will turn its ire onto me. I must be prepared for the fight.

I don’t notice the silence for a moment as I reach for the minor magic potion at the bottom of a broken urn. It doesn't occur to me till I feel the dark presence behind me. With a quick breath, I turn and throw a bolt of ice at the demon. With a lazy effort, it pushes the ice off like it was a bug in the way.

"Generally people give thanks but I can't say I'm too familiar with Nord customs," the Dremora chuckles. I straight at his laugh, utterly confused. The being cocks a dark brow at me with a grin," You seem a lost for words."

"Aye," I eye him," just a bit of miscommunication."

His arms cross while changing weight to one leg," How so?" His demeanor is startling, to say the least. I have never interacted with demons before, well in a friendly manner at least. I've killed a few to use their hearts for potions, I'm no saint. The college generally warned against conversing with them unless you can have the upper hand.

"I was informed that this conjuring spell was to summon an unbound Dremora," I clarify.

"That I am," he tilts his head with an amused smirk," Do you believe I have no free will? That I will attack anything that breathes? I found the deal is far greater than the taste of freshly spilled blood."

I sober at his words," the deal?"

"Yes, the deal," he chuckles," you summon me, I protect you, now I get something in return. Give and take sort of thing." I eye him cautious, not open to making deals with conniving creatures like him.

"What kind of deal?"

"Hmm, not sure. I haven't decided on what I want yet, but I do have ideas," he answers in thought.

"What could you want," I slide my hand towards my dagger, cautious but not completely open to fighting just yet. The Dremora casts a glance to my hand then back up at me. His brow raises again but he either doesn’t care or doesn’t mind me reaching for my weapon. Arms still folded he begins to circle me, walking lazily around with his eyes wondering my body.

"What do I want," he taps his finger against his elbow," many things. The better question is what do I want that you can give me. You could be my slave, do my bidding here in the living realm. To kill who I demand, to retrieve what I desire. But I don’t need another one, I already have all the slaves I want. You could give me something I haven't reveled in for a while." he stops his circling and walks towards me. Panicked, I back up till I thump against a wall. Quickly he grabs my face and regards me in an appraising way. "You are very handsome for a mage, most are old and cynical. You are young and full of mirth, perhaps I shall partake just this once," he hums as his thumb brushes my cheek.

"W-What do you want," my resolve slips for a second. I'm not ignorant or oblivious, he wants something I myself haven't partaken in since starting college. Before the time of my studies, I took to parading around as many women as I could, drinking and partying with the liveliest of maidens. I have never been with a man, let alone a demon.

"Here is the deal, you take my seed and we call us even," his hold switches to my throat," if you don’t, then I take your blood as payment."

"You're seed," I ask confused," do you believe you could impregnate me?"

He scoffs," No you stupid man, I wish to spoil myself inside you. Once I do, then we are square. This acceptable, Nord?"

"Blood or cum, such an impossible choice," I roll my eyes," as long as you don’t rip me a new one I will reluctantly lay with you, demon."

"Reluctantly," the Dremora laughs," you caved very fast for someone who is reluctant."

"I'm not above my ego to rather die than fuck a man, just be fast and I can forget about it," I sneer.

"Like I'd give you the curtesy to forget," he chuckles darkly," but if you insist."

I startle when head leans down and captures my lips with his, wasting no time shoving his tongue down my throat. The intrusion sends a jolt down my spine, spurring my interest just a peek. A chill runs through the room and the rock bites into my skin. I shiver when I feel the hard grip of his hands on my uncovered hips.

"You seem to be less reluctant now," he whispers in my ear as his hips brush against mine. I look down at our now nude bodies, seeing my hardening cock against his thigh.

"Is but nerves," I scoff. He hums in an answer as he lowers onto his knees. Its almost a powerful sight to see such an evil being kneeling. The sight is even more uplifting when he grabs my half-hard dick in his hands, stroking me in a lose hold. His mouth joins in for a moment, my spine snapping straight as the electric feeling runs upwards. "damn, Dremora. Ever heard of pacing one's self," I ask as my hips buck. He chuckles around my cock, the vibrations feeling divine.

"You were the one who wanted fast, and I'm the one who didn’t want you to forget," he kisses along my shaft, palming my balls with an uncoy look. His attentions are not what I expected, the sight more arousing than anticipated. I watch him lather my member with his tongue, bucking and sighing with the feeling. I rest my head back to the wall, mouth parted in an unending breath. As I feel myself nearing my end he backs off.

"Don’t want you to end so soon my handsome Nord, now it's your turn to be on your knees," He laughs. I give him an unabashed face before doing as he says. I get down on my knees ready to return the favor. He confuses me by not standing but crawling around behind me. It seems he is ready for the main course. He grabs my shoulder and pushes me forward. I catch myself on my hands as his hand rests on my back.

His clawed fingers trail down my spine, my skin tingling with anticipation. I can feel the warmth of his cock resting at the crease of my ass. The tip nudging just barely between my cheeks. His palm slides over my lower back before trailing over and cupping my hips. He swiftly pulls me flush to his thighs, his cock gliding up and settling close to his stomach. The weight is similar to the one in my stomach, the suspense making my own cock twitch. He pushes me away then pulls me back to him again, enjoying the tension in the air.

I fall onto my forearms and buck back into him with a groan," Just put it in already!"

His deep chuckle echoes in the room," so eager aren't we? I thought this was supposed to be my payment."

I look over my shoulder at his wicked grin," what? Cant, we both get something out of this?"

"I suppose we can," he tilts his head. The Dremora says nothing else as he continues tracing his cock on my ass. Soon he grabs ahold of one of my cheeks, clenching the muscle between his fingers. He spreads me open and regards his new toy. I wait with bated breath as his other hand lazily trails down to rest his thumb over my pucker. My stomach clenches as I choke on a gasp, I guess the eagerness is getting to me. He chuckles as he presses his thumb to me, massaging before inserting. I let out a long groan and rest my head to the filthy floor. He lets himself just rest there, humming as he listens to my panting breath.

"Please," I find myself crying out, not sure what I'm asking for. He somehow figures it out as he removes his thumb and grabs ahold of his cock. He presses himself to my entrance, slowly pressing his tip inside. There is resistance but he pushes on. With a sudden pop, his head is engulfed. The image and the reality of someone being in my ass make my cock leak and a whine let out from my chest. Before I could beg some more he pushes in farther. His head sliding further inside, the unfamiliar feeling of something this far inside me is intoxicating. My anus being stretched isn't pleasant, it aches and stings. Still, my cock remains hard and drips pre to the floor. His length rubbing along my prostate makes the pain feel like nothing.

I relish every inch till his hips are finally flat with my ass. Once he is to the hilt I hear him breathe. He sucks in a greedy breath and grips my cheeks with a painful hold. I can feel my hips try to move, the urge to buck back into him is strong. God, what my guild would think of this. Hell! What would my church think of this?

"By the divines, you are the tightest hole I have ever had the pleasure of fucking," the Dremora calls out in wonder," I believe this will be sufficient payment indeed." before I can comment he pulls back then thrust forward with a sharp snap of his hips.

"ack-, fuck," I cry out. I rub my forehead along the ground, the bits of rock digging into my skin. I hardly notice them as he pulls out again and bucks forward. He finds a pace quickly, using me like some common whore. Seeking his own fulfillment as I whimper and cry in the dirt. His inhuman cock does wonders to my insides, his length hitting places I never knew existed. My cock bobs with each thrust, a string of pre falling to the ground make me groan. I find myself reaching under myself and gripping it. The mixture of him and my hand makes my brain feel fuzzy.

"Are you going to touch yourself, my little Nord," he chuckles above me," Love the feeling of my cock rearranging your insides?" I whimper like a dog as I stroke myself, twisting my hand over my tips then clenching my base. If I knew being fucked in the ass was so grand I would have done this sooner. I'm almost curious if being fucked by a Nord is the same as this? Perhaps a Dremora has better prowess with these kinds of things. Either way, it's hard to think, at the moment a Dremora is a way better lay than any of my past lovers.

"Faster," I cry as I buck back into him. He laughs, curling his fingers over my waist. He slides them down over my stomach, feeling my muscles flex with each push of his hips. His fingers wrap around my base as my palms massages my tip. He gives short quick strokes that make me see stars. I continue pinching along my head as he rubs up against my shaft. My grunts and groans stutter as he fucks me from behind harder, knocking the breath out of me each time.

"Cum for me, my little Nord. I want to feel you squeeze my cock as you do," he rumbles beside my ears. I have no strength to deny him, falling victim to his assaults quickly. In a flash, my body seizes, my spine arching as I feel my balls tighten. I scream like I never have before as I shoot white ropes onto the dirt-covered floor. He doesn’t stop squeezing me, milking me for all I have as his own thrusts stutter. "Yes, just like that," he grunts. As I fall limp on my arms he thrust once more before stilling. I can feel his hot load coating my insides, the feeling is divine. He gasps hard, one of his hands making scratches along my sweaty body.

We both catch our breaths, resting for just a moment in such a dangerous surrounding. He soon pulls out of me, sitting up straight on his knees. I can feel his cum dribble out of me, trailing over my taint and onto my balls before dripping to the floor. I watch between myself as the drops darken the floor.

"You took my seed, the payment is fulfilled," he stands and walks around to my front. He kneels down in front of me as I fall limp to the floor. He grabs my chin and forces me back up on my hands," Till next time, my little Nord." he presses a kiss to my lips then with a smirk, he vanishes. I fall once again onto the floor, naked and defiled.

"till next time," I mumble to myself with a content grin.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I wanted to write a MLM story and this smut came out. Also my best friend wanted me to write one too. so technically this is dedicated to him, Love you bro.

I love skyrim so enjoy this mess.

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[after-l1fe]

Mayhaps could I ask mori nsfw alphabet? Please?

Mori x GN!MC Nsfw alphabet

Soo idk much about Mori but I tried doing some research about him in hopes to better understand him. The whole point of his character is to be mysterious and damn did it work well XD. I wanna say idk his past story and in one part I talk about his eyes, I hope that doesnt break cannon too much or at all.

 A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He is normally very tired after sex but he will attend all your needs, do you want a bath and clean sheets? you’re getting that, sometimes it seems like he already knows what you want even before telling him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your thighs, he loves to hold them when he is between your legs and to leave them full of marks.

From his body he prefers his eyes, even if he has them closed most of the time and doesn’t show them off that much he loves them, and he showing you his eyes when the two of you are alone is something he considers very intimate.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His cum is thick and sticky and he loves covering you with it its his way of being a little possessive, his favorite place to do so is your chest.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has only jacked off once and that was after you wore particularly exposing clothes to a party and drank a little bit too much and began getting touchy with him.

He couldn’t help but go to the bathroom to ‘ease some tension’, you two were already in a relationship but the idea of doing love to you while drunk didn’t feel well to him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

This isn’t something he’s proud of and no one knows about it but he has no experience at all yet he definitely did his best to please you that first time you two did it, only to find out he wasn’t that good at it, cue A LOT of research and the discovery of several kinks he didn’t even knew existed.

That second time was the best one you ever had, only for him to surpass his limits every time afterward.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He has done lots of positions but his favorite ones are the ones where you are tied up, if he had to choose one though it would be the leapfrog position with you hands tied up, he loves how vulnerable you look and how you seem so helpless (of course all with your consent, he would hate to harm you or do something you don’t like).

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

0 goofiness, he doesn’t feel like sex is the right time to make some jokes and he’s very serious about it, also why would he joke when instead he can say dirty things that make you squirm.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

The carpet does match the drapes although they are a little bit darker in color.

He trims the hair every now and then and makes sure that it looks well, he just doesn’t like shaving he feels its too much of a hassle.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He struggles a bit with telling you how he feels so he prefers to just kiss you all over and sometimes after he’s more in the mood drop an ‘I love you’ but otherwise he wont seem very romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t do it. He has better stuff to do, like deals and negotiations, and if he really needs to have some fun he will just come to you and have fun with you 😉.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He’s a voyeur as he’s not afraid of doing stuff in public yet he would hate the idea of you two getting discovered by anyone that’s why he’s planned every little detail, but you obviously don’t know that which makes him enjoy himself even more by seeing how you get a little shy by the idea of getting found.

He’s also a rigger, he loves seeing you tied up in beautiful ways and then he loves to add a little fun by placing some toys in you and watching you beg for him as he just watches your needy state.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He isn’t afraid of doing stuff in public and he is quite proud about having done it in certain places, some of those being the roof of the school, the auditorium and one time he was under your desk as you spoke to someone letting his tongue and hands wander your private parts.

Yet sometimes he just wants to have a sweeter session with you which will take place in your or his room. (Sometimes it doesn’t have to be in the bed tho, he likes the shower as much as the bed)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He loves to fantasize about the stuff he could do about you, and sometimes he cant help but let his mind wander a bit too much and he NEEDS to try this new idea/fantasy he’s planned in his head.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Harm you, he may like tying you up in ropes and put you in cuffs but he always makes sure they’re smooth/soft and won’t cause you harm, you mean the world to him and he wouldn’t want to do anything that harms you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers receiving, he can just lay back and see as you do all the work and try to get him to cum although, if you do a really good job of pleasing him we will be sure of returning the favor twice as good as you did.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

For quickies he prefers fast and rough, to get you both to orgasm rapidly but, if its just a normal session he prefers taking more time and go slowly and tell you how much he loves you while leaving a little kiss on your lips.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He loves them. Its fast, not too energy wasting and you both get a lot of pleasure!!

The school closets are one of his favorite places to do them.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He loves taking risk and experimenting new stuff.

He wouldn’t be against the idea of having some fun in an unused classroom or the storage.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Not that much stamina so he prefers to just give it his all in one long round and then just kissing, cuddling and showing how much he loves you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

LOTS of toys, he thinks they make things spicier and he isn’t wrong about that, specially as he knows how to use them even in ways you hadn’t imagined.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

SUPER unfair, he won’t stop whispering dirty things into your ear and sometimes it won’t even be in private.

He once was walking by your side and just whispered pure filth into your ear to afterwards just leave and leave you there feeling horny. You can’t get a break with this guy.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He doesn’t make a sound no matter what he’s doing with you (aside from his dirty talk) BUT, if you whisper his name right into his ear you’ll hear him grunt and hell start moving rougher and faster. If confronted about it he will say he didn’t even hear you say anything.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

As he has said before he never breaks a deal, and that also applies to his love for you, he would never even think about cheating on you, and he will always try his best to make you happy, after all he made a deal with you, a deal to never leave you alone and be there for you no matter what.

After sex he will ask you more than once if you are fine, sometimes he thinks he has gone a little too far with stuff (even if you two just had normal sex) he loves you a lot and wants no harm to come to you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s average in length but where he excels at is in thickness, this is something he loves, he loves the feel of how you stretch for him and cry out in pleasure.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not that high yearning, or at least that’s what he says/shows, he might not look like it but sometimes when he looks like he’s scheming something it may not be some dirty plan or at least  not the dirty plan he does to get some deals with people. 😉

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t like wasting too much energy and he IS quite tired afterwards but, he will wait until all your needs have been attended to and you are feeling comfortable, if you’re not comfortable no matter how tired he is he wont be able to sleep.

Thanks for my first request 😊💕literally number one anon