#and shame-based motivation *sigh*

[bluegalaxygirl]

Amnesia (KidKiller X Reader) P14

Plot: After an explosion reader wakes up in a hospital with no memory of the past few years, her parents want to take her home so she can recover and get back to a normal life while the Kid pirates want her back on the ship where she belongs.

Warning: Bad language, Family issues, Mental abuse, Body issues/shaming, mentions of eating disorders, reconstructive surgery, Blood, domestic abuse and Violence.

Reader is Female, Poly Relationship, established relationship, Kid X Reader X Killer, Reader is a member of the Kid pirates and is in charge of the money, Budgeting and negotiating the best price.

< Previous part …. Next Part >

The Victoria was oddly quiet mainly because most of the crew where either on the deck doing cleaning work and look out duty or off the ship heading into the shopping area to get the supply's they ordered days ago, Kid of course is mad about it wanting to head into those shops and demand the stuff for free or just take the stuff after such a long wait but Killer and Wire managed to calm him down a little and shove him into his workshop which is where he's currently working on odd things. His leg bounces hating having to wait a whole day to see you and not getting to beat the shit out of anyone, again it would be much easier to destroy this place and take you with them, but he knows you well enough to know that if he does that and you get your memories back you would be overly angry with him and become less trusting of him. Your no stranger to violence and killing but Kidnapping and being forced to do something against your will is something you never tolerated, he laughs at the memory of you calling yourself a hypocrite since you didn't mind doing stuff like that to your enemies. A knock on the door jolts the captain out of his thoughts, swiveling around in his chair he flicks his hand using his devil fruit to unlock the door and open it seeing Killer, Wire and Heat all at the door "What?" Kid growls as the three enter the room, Wire closes and locks the door behind him which makes the red head raise a brow "Heat has found some info for us" Killer stands walking to stand next to his captain before turning to look over at a very tired looking Heat, the bags under his eyes are a lot darker and his eyes are blood shot.

Crossing his arms over his chest Kid sighs hoping they have something good they can use and not just some useless info "Go on then, get on with it" The captain snaps, Heat jumps slightly being brought back to the real world from his slightly sleepy state, cleaning his throat the stitched man runs a hand over his tatty hair knowing he needs a good show but what he found was more than he thought and the deeper he dug the harder it was to pull away. "There's a lot to go threw, i left Mohawk and Narbe, at the library in town, they managed to get in contact with a few people who used to work for the family, its surprising how willing they are say what goes on behind closed doors. Most of the books there though are strange to say the least, all are based on the history of entertainment and old newspapers that only show big achievements and positive views" Kid groans throwing his head back in annoyance not wanting to know how they got the information "Hurry up Heat, i'm loosing patients here" With a gulp Heat nods ruffling his hair a little to get his head in gear, its common for him to ramble when tired so Wire places a hand on his friends shoulder patting it a few times in reassurance and motivation to go on. "R-right, sorry. So Y/n's farther is the 7th owner of most of the companies he owns, all of which was passed down to him from his father and his father before him and so on, but he is the first to make a deal with the world government to supply not only medical equipment but also weapons, the guns the marines use are made by his company but before that they were sold to mulish groups, how he got away with it i honestly don't know. There's only one company he owns that doesn't involve the world government or the marines but there's little to nothing on that one, i only know that its based in the north blue."

Killer nods at the information, its surprising how much your farther caters to the world government, and yet he hasn't called in the marines yet, it makes the masked man anxious. "How many companies in total does he own?" the blonde asks wanting to know how deeply involved your farther is, getting rid of him might work in their favor if you agree to it at the end of all of this. "Four in total, the third one that provides to the world government has something to do with clothes. He also has shares in other companies and places but most of them are medical, he actually owns half the hospital here." Kids taken aback by this new information but it does make sense now why they brought you all the way here and why the staff, other than the nurse, always seem to take your families side. Wire raises an eyebrow removing his hand from the stitched man's shoulder to cross his arms over his chest "I thought they had their medical license revoked, they can't own a hospital without one" The tall man comments makes Killer hum in though his mind running to try and figure out what is going on, its clear they need you for something otherwise they wouldn't be going this far, do they need you in order to get that licence back? if so this seems way to drastic for something so small. Heat shakes his head with a sigh "That is kinda true, they got their license to make medication revoked, i couldn't find much on it but there was this drug they made that ended up killing a lot of marines that were using it, so the government took their license away. They can still make medical equipment, bandages and stuff like that though"

With a loud groan Kid leans back not seeing much point in all this information, so what if your father owns all that stuff and the place your staying in, they still can't tell him what to do or stop him from doing what he wants, your not going to be their hostage, he'll make dam sure of that "Is there anything else?" The captain asks looking back at Heat who quickly looks away while rubbing his arm, the energy in the room shifts to one of nervousness and slight sickness, Wire tilts his head at his friend a pit forming in his stomach knowing its bad if Heat is reluctant to talk about it "Shit.. this about Y/n or the family?" The tall man asks hoping its nothing bad to do with you but deep down he knows it has everything to do with you, Killer stops his pondering to look at the stitched man, his anxiety rising making him feel physically sick, Kid grits his teeth both his hands gripping onto the arms of his chair threatening to crack it under his grip. "Heat… Get on with it" Kid growls in a low tone, one he rarely uses, his anger spikes the longer Heat takes to talk but when he does the three of them stop in their tracks of high emotion "Y/n… she- she used to do beauty contest and pageants from a young age-" Before he can finish Kid bursts out laughing, the anger he once held gone at how stupid it sounded, Killer next to him lets out a long sigh relaxing his shoulders and moving to lean against Kid's workbench trying to calm his beating heart down. Wire slaps Heat on the back giving him a shit eating grin while letting out a small huff of a laugh "Are you fucking kidding me man, thats it?" The tall man rolls his eyes.

Kid leans forward slapping his knee while trying to calm his laughter down "Oh! t-thats f-funny… Imagine our N/N in a fucking puffy dress… she would rather be burned alive then do that shit" Kid laughs hitting Killer on the arm lightly managing to get a laugh out of his partner but the masked man quickly stops himself as Heat growls taking a step closer to the two with bright red cheeks "No really, she's won a bunch, and… She looks good in all of them but.." Heat yells only to stop himself and look down the redness in his cheeks fading away as anger starts to overcome him, Kid raises an eyebrow at his friend wondering why there would be a 'But' in that sentence while Killer looks the stitched man over frowning under his mask. A pit forms in Heat's stomach thinking his captain and maybe even Killer will kill him for thinking your hot but it has nothing to do with that. "I'm not hitting on your girl or anything Captain, its just, I'm concerned some of them are… provocative for a young girl.. i mean the newest ones i could find was when she was 16" Heat tries to explain backing up a bit in hopes his Captain won't kill him, Killer's shoulders tense his hands turning to fists at his side, anger flows through him, not at Heat's commenting on your body, but he can see what his friend is starting to get at. "I don't think she wanted to do it, she always has this fake smile in the photos and her mother is the center of any article about her wins. All she talks about though is weight loss, beauty is pain and shit like, heck there's a part in one new's paper where she openly praises eating disorders" anger boils inside the stitched man making his body start to warm up and smoke start to leave his mouth.

Wire takes a step back not wanting to get to close to the now fire angry man his gaze flicking to the captain secretly asking if he should step in but Kid's eyes are angrily locked onto Heat who continues to rant "I mean if thats what she says when Y/n is winning then what the fuck is she saying when Y/n's losing? I found out from one of maids that used to work there that Y/n had to have reconstructive surgery on both her ears after her mother deiced to piece them with a hot needle and an ice cube, she got other pageant moms to hold her down and then forced her on stage after to prance around in a pretty dress and for what? Winning a gift card… yea thats the fucking prize, a 50 berri gift card and a plastic crown. How stupid is that? The shit that lady made Y/n go threw is ridiculous, i mean calorie control books, daily weighing, restricting or even locking away food if she weighed even a little over, pulling her out of school to be pretty and proper like some little lap dog and almost beating her because she cut her hair without permission. That Bitch is crazy and as for her farther he's just as bad he-" Heat only stops his rant when Wire grabs him pulling the stitched man into a hug, one arm around his waist and the other holding his head to the tall man's chest, thick smoke coats the air as Heat pants making the room stuffy but none of the men move to open the door. Kid's hands shake as they grip together, his body now leaning forwards and his elbows on his knee's letting his mind go run through all the strange stuff you used to do and say.

It all made sense now, why you never got your ears pierced, why you always insisted on working out even when tired or in pain, why you never wanted to wear makeup or dresses and why you hated people commenting on your body, it makes him sick to think he used to tease you over this stuff, liking getting a little rise out of you but now he just feels like a dick. Killer grabs the edge of the workbench making it squeak under the amount of strength he's using, he has his own personal image issues and you've been nothing but sportive thought it, always knowing what to say and how to comfort him, he's done the same for you but hearing this just makes him so mad. You never minded talking about food or helping out with food but you never wanted to know anything about Calorie's or fat content, its clear now why, and he's just thankful that you don't have an eating disorder now, the past might have been different, so he'll make a mental note to talk to you about it tomorrow, he needs to know how deep this goes, he doesn't want you to end up like him, hiding behind a mask and unable to look at himself in the mirror with feeling a sickness growing inside. Before he wouldn't lay a hand on your mother only for your sake but after hearing this he wants nothing more than to wrap his hand around her throat and make her bag you for forgiveness before ending her life weather you like it or not.

With the room oddly silent it gives everyone time to go through their own thoughts and feelings on the matter but Heat knows there's more, he's only talked about your mother, he hasn't even gotten onto your farther yet and there's still more stuff to go through. The beauty contests seemed to be the main problem to everyone who used to work for the family, but he knows you well enough to know that its just the tip of the iceberg, it runs deeper, and he's not sure if he wants to find out how deep. "No wonder she hates being called pretty and beautiful, imagine a bunch of old sweaty judges, family and so called friends commenting on your body for years, judging you on your looks and nothing else" Heat sighs letting the flames in his throat die down and the smoke in his mouth starting to thin out, patting his friends back Wire lets go to unlock the door and open it, letting the smoke flow out of the room, stepping out he looks both ways down the long hallway seeing a cabin boy mopping the floor with wide eyes. "There's no fire, head up top and tell everyone to stay away until further notice" Wire blankly states earning a nod from the boy who quickly grabs his bucket and mop before rushing down the hall and up to the deck, now the area is clear the tall man turns back to his friends letting out a sigh, he tried not to get too angry about it all but even he has his limits. Wire is extremely good at hiding how he's really feeling, even better than Killer which is saying something but even know he's finding it difficult to keep his straight face.

Kids leg bounces as a growl leaves his lips and his amber eyes travel from the floor to the stitched man now leaning against the wall "Her Farther… what did he do?" The captain pushes those words through gritted teeth wanting to know everything before he storms off and releases some steam, with a sigh that releases a little more smoke Heat turns his head to look at the door annoyed at himself for letting the smoke get this bad "Mohawk managed to dig up a few things but there isn't a lot, he's still an ass but at least it sounds like he didn't physically hurt N/n" Killer rolls his eyes not feeling any better about this even though he knew his friend was trying not to make himself and everyone else more angry "Mohawk found that the company in the north blue was having some money issues for almost a year, at the same time Y/n stops doing any kind of contests or pageants, once the issues was resolved though Y/n started doing them again. I think he got Y/n to do all that work just to cast her aside after she was no longer useful, what a prick." Heat slumps against the wall now looking up at the ceiling in order to try and control the fire starting to burn in his throat again, Wire sighs walking over and patting the stitched man on the shoulder, he know something like that would hit you hard. They all see the way your eyes light up when ever you get praised for your work, your also very dedicated making sure everything is in order and perfect. "She's does has siblings but only the youngest who's the first boy in the family is the air to the companies, i couldn't find much on him other than he's still very young" Heat concludes glad he got all of it out, but he wonders if this information was even useful, there is a chance they could remind you of all the shit your family did and that will make you come back but at the same time you remember all of it and still somehow chose to keep them around.

Killers hand grips the desk hard enough for it to crack a chunk off, he flinches slightly bringing his hand up to see the chunk of wood and a bit of metal still gripped tightly in his hand, the anger inside of him is still there, and he knows he needs to calm down before he breaks more of the ship. Kid growls while leaning back in his chair, his hands shaking with anger and the need to lash out, his mind races with things he wants to do and say to your parents making his mind block out the destitution between Wire and Heat "So what about the marines? Why ain't they here if their so buddy buddy?" The tall mans asks feeling like something is off about all this but Heat just shrugs "I don't know, he seems to be friends with most of the lower level marines but other than that i can't find anything too useful." Without a word Kid quickly stands his hands grabbing the arms of his chair and flinging it back into the wall before storming out of the room, his anger getting the better of him, Killer quickly follows with no intention to stop his partner while Wire and Heat rush out unsure of what their captains plan is. Slamming the door to the deck open the crew who are there jump in surprise most moving out of the raging captains way, those who didn't are shoved aside with a gruff huff or a warning growl, the captains eyes are fixed on your parents ship currently five rows over, the guards in duty stand tall one on either side of the ramp while servants run around none of them noticing the heavy aura that starts to emanate from Kid, he knows exactly what he wants to do, destroy their ship and make your parents pay.

He can't hold back any longer with anger reaching an almost overwhelming level, storming down the dock his eyes are fixed on the almost royal looking ship as his boots stomp heavily across the wood making it crack in places and splinter in others, it isn't long before his actions draw an audience of his crew, the men and women of the ship running to the railing of their ship in order to see what's going on. Killer along with Heat and Wire make their way up too knowing know what is going to happen, Heat lets a large smile form on his face as he takes a step towards the ramp leading down onto the dock wanting to join in the distraction only to be grabbed roughly by Wire "Shit, Captain wait" The tall man yells knowing its reached his captains ears since he earns a middle finger in response "Stay here" Wire growls down at the stitched man who growls back while crossing his arms over his chest, he wants to join his captain but Wire can be very scary when he gets mad so opts to do as he's told. Running off the ship the tall man quickly turns back expecting Killer to be right behind him only to see empty space, looking back onto the ship the masked man hasn't moves from his spot just watching his captain angrily make his way to the last dock. He should stop Kid, if he does the captain will listen, they might fight about it later but, no, after everything he's heard he won't stop his partner, they deserve what ever comes to them, you might hate them for it but at this point he doesn't care. A part of him wants to order Wire back to the ship but with his anger seething inside he can't get anything through his gritted teeth and clenched jaw.

With a groan of frustration Wire runs off his longs legs making it easy for him to catch up to Kid just as the captain starts gathering metal around his arm hoping to sink the ship which is now just down the long dock "Captain… Kid stop" Wire rushes in front of the red head trying to stop the man from doing anything too bad, he wants these people to pay for what they've done but there's too many things to consider, one, the marines might get involved which means another big fight and them unable to stay here for too long, two, they have no idea how your going to react when finding out, you might not come back with them which leads to them just taking you by forth which won't go down well and three, the captains rage won't just stop at the ship, it'll carry on until he's satisfied which means the whole island will be burning including the hospital your in. "I know your angry, and they deserve what ever comes to them but not now" Wire still tries to convince his captain while starting to step back seeing the red head not slowing down or stopping, he knows if he stays in the way he'll get shoved aside or worse thrown. "Get the fuck out of my way, i'm gonna tare them apart, rip them limb from bloody limb, make them beg for forgiveness then deny them the sweet relief of death until I'm satisfied" Kid growls with a sickening smirk, one that just oozes blood-lust almost making his mouth water, the captains metal arm becomes huge casting a shadow over your parents ship which is now only a few steps away.

The guards on the deck rush over with guns and swords but their weapons are pulled out of their hand adding to the still growing fist, those in the ship either cower in fear, frozen unable to move or run around calling for people to get off the ship and onto the deck "Eustass Kid, what the meaning of this?" The familiar grinding voice of your farther yells out from behind the captain getting the red head to turn his head, burning amber eyes glaring at your Stoic farther who's walking down the dock to his ship surprisingly calm for a man now in the eyesight of a raging supernova. "You bastard, What the fuck do you want from her?" Kid's voice echo's out as his metal hand grips onto the mast of the ship the once perfect glistening white and chestnut wood splintering at his light grip, he wasn't going to destroy the ship just yet, plus if your mother is on there he doesn't want it sinking yet, he wants to take her out himself. Your farther's eyes narrow as he crosses his arms over his chest "She is my daughter, i would do anything for her" The blatant lie causing another wave of anger to wash over the red head his metal hand unctuously gripping tighter until the mast cracks and splinters into pieces, the part above his hand creaking and falling into the ocean, screams and cry's call out as more servants and guards rush off the ship as it rocks from the waves. Some guards run up attempting to punch or kick Wire only for the tall man to kick them into the water and send a glare to anyone else who gets any ideas, he knows know there's nothing he can do to stop this so has no chose but to watch what ever unfolds and take out anyone who gets in his captains way. "Bullshit, if you actually cared you'd have kept her away from that bitch of a wife"

A gasp is heard from the crowd of people gathered at the end of the dock your mother pushing her way to the front with a frown clear on her face "How dare you, i gave that ungrateful child everything she could want" Kid's burning eyes slowly turn to look at the woman, its clear now she was acting back at the hospital, this is the real her "You conniving, vindictive cow" The captains voice sounds almost inhuman almost like a wolf drooling and snarling over its pray, Wire quickly moves out of the way as Kid lets go of all the metal he had been collecting letting it rain down into the ocean and onto the ship impaling wood, shattering glass windows and slicing through the rapes and sails so the captain can storm over to your mother. "Get away from her" Your farther yells but makes no move to get closer, guards moves to try and protect your mother trying to stop the man from getting any closer as the woman backs up becoming scares for her life. Killer's fists shake at his sides his anger also starting to grow at seeing your mother again, he can't hear what is being said, but he knows their certainly not apologizing for what they've done, honestly it wouldn't matter if they did or not they still deserve to pay, Heat growls his hands gripping into the wooden rail of the ship threatening to break it, his throat starts to warm up and smoke starts to leek out the corners of his stitched mouth. Neither of them can hold back any longer, in unison the two walk off the Victoria earning gulps, wide grins and looks of confusion from the crew watching on, neither of them knew what they were going to do once they made it to your parents but it wasn't going to be good.

[strlingsav]

Drive: Seven

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Explicit content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

Johnny called you out of the blue, wanting to meet up following your leave. Up to that point, you weren't sure how Johnny felt about you- you had an inkling he'd known all along about your secret affair with Simon, though not to what extent. The phone call didn't allow for much insight, either, a quick conversation that did nothing to settle your nerves. Surely, he'd be curious; if not pissed off.

You were a bit hesitant to blindly agree to meeting him, and when he mentioned Kyle, your blood ran cold wondering if Simon or John were sitting with them.

You finally agreed, after reassurance that neither men were there. He purposely emphasized that Simon was on base for the evening and had declined his invite. The thought made you cringe- you worried you'd isolated him from his friends, his teammates, and it was your fault he was hiding away and not out drinking.

You managed to peel yourself from the confines of your bed; pulling on causal clothes, running your fingers through your hair and washing your face. Your mental health had certainly suffered the last few months; your motivation to take care of yourself had been hindered by self-deprecating thoughts.

You managed to apply a bit of makeup and pull your hair into a suitable condition. Though it wasn't your usual standard, Johnny and Kyle wouldn't notice a difference- and you didn't care.

The two men were at opposite sides of the table when you arrived, Johnny's arm resting on the seat while he nodded along to something Kyle was saying. They greeted you, quick hugs and hellos offered before you sat down beside Kyle.

"You been alright?" Johnny asked, his hand wrapped around his beer.

You could tell he practically spat the question out, like it was trapped in his throat, waiting to burst out. His face showed no expression- not empathy or anger, and you knew you needed to proceed with a cautious response.

The noise of the bar drowned out any worries you had of awkward silences or pauses while you tried to come up with a story better than the truth.

"Yeah," You nodded, cracking a small smile. "Aside from being discharged and publicly humiliated."

"Donnae think too hard on it. Nobody blames you- shoulda been Ghost gettin' tossed; Price kisses his fuckin' arse."

"It's not his fault," You shook your head. "I also should've known better."

"He was your superior officer," Kyle added. "It was his responsibility." You winced at the word 'was'- another reminder of the loss you'd suffered.

"But we both wanted this- it," You corrected yourself. It was silent for a few moments, before you spoke up again. "Let's just move on," You smiled awkwardly.

"Aye," Johnny nodded. "You heard from him?"

"Thought we were moving on?" You raised a brow.

"Too good not to share details," Johnny grinned.

"I did, and then I ended it- I guess."

"Ended it?" Johnny asked. "Ghost's been chattin' my fuckin' ear off about you. You sure that's what you want?"

"You're not my therapist, Johnny," You rolled your eyes, a grin on your lips.

"No- but the lad's desperate for you, tell you that much."

"It's not feasible," You shrugged. "Not when we don't work together. I can't put that on him."

"Anythin's possible," Kyle entered. "Even if it's just to shut him up," He laughed, watching Johnny.

"I can't," You interjected. "I got ahead of myself with the feelings part- I know that. I just think I felt more for him than I thought I did."

"No shame in it," Johnny shook his head. "If it makes you feel any better, I'd never seen that big bastard happier. Y'should tell him."

You tilted your head, sighing softly. "It doesn't- and I won't, but thanks." You grinned.

"So what now?" Kyle asked, leaning in.

"Nothing. Find a job, settle down. Like a normal person."

"We'll miss havin' you around, that's for sure," Johnny nodded.

"Thanks, Johnny."

"Normal people tell other people how they're feeling," Kyle eyed you down, an eyebrow raised while he subtly scolded you. "Instead of avoiding it."

"I'm not normal just yet, Kyle. Can't you just say you'll miss me?"

"I'll miss you," He teased.

You sighed at his response. Their advice was well-intended, but a voice in your head still warned against being honest with Simon. You worried it would create expectations, standards that he couldn't uphold from across the world.

If he didn't reciprocate your feelings, the humiliation of being discharged would only be accompanied by rejection from the very reason you were let go to begin with. It made your stomach churn to imagine telling Simon- the lingering stare he'd give, the apologies and polite goodbyes. It would sting far worse than just leaving it as it was.

You must've been staring off into the distance, hardly touching your drink as Johnny and Kyle dragged you back onto shore. They offered to play a round of pool with you- take your mind off everything, but you wanted to sit and stew.

You took up a seat at the bar while they played, fingers playing with the plastic toothpick you snagged. You felt like shit. Not just because you'd lost your job, but because you'd lost Simon. You were sure he'd take you back in a heartbeat, but it didn't mean anything. Your feelings were as pointless as they'd always been. You felt absolutely ridiculous for knowing that from the very beginning, but proceeding anyway.

You wanted to be mean. You wanted to keep being unavailable and distant, until he lost interest and left you alone. It was hard- hard not to call him, hear his voice. So you promised yourself to be mean, because if you were to see him, you'd crumble, fall into the abyss where he'd been waiting for you.

Your attention was grabbed by a man sliding in next to you, getting a bit too close for comfort and leaning into your personal space. You looked up to meet his gaze, finding an unfamiliar face beside you.

Ordinarily, you'd have been flattered by his bold actions, but your mind only had enough space for one man at the moment- Simon.

"You drinking alone?" He asked, leaning over the bar.

Your expression remained flat as you nodded. "Yeah, I guess."

"Want another one?" He nodded toward the drink in your hand.

You lifted your head again, uninterested in anything but the woodgrain of the bar.

"I'm okay," You smiled politely.

"C'mon," He grinned. "I'm a stranger offering to lend an ear- nothing more."

Your patience had already begun to wear thin, especially as he kept that same grin across his face. Before you could say another word, someone else did for you.

"Fuck off, yeah mate?" Simon's voice interjected from behind you, causing your eyes to widen.

"That's- I'm sorry," You said, offering an apology to the man.

Your jaw clenched as you spun to face Simon, watching the stranger you were politely chatting with turn away with widened eyes. Your eyes met Simon's, your brows furrowing with frustration.

"That was rude," You said. "What are you doing here?"

"Weren't gonna tell me you were here?" Simon asked, his eyes surveilling the room before he leaned closer and looked at you.

"I don't report to you anymore," You said back, watching him grimace.

"Quit the fuckin' attitude," He growled. "Didn't think I'd find out you were meetin' with Johnny and Kyle?"

"I was sure you would," You shrugged. "Just didn't realize I needed permission to be here."

He leaned down and ordered a strict, 'come with me' while he herded you out the front door. His hand gripped your arm, gently guiding you forward so he could talk with you in peace and quiet.

It was damp outside, a bit of a chill while progressing into Spring. Your breath in the air appeared before you, and Simon's hand on your arm offered a comforting warmth.

He lead you to his truck, opening the door as he gestured for you to get in.

"Simon-"

"Get in the fuckin' truck."

You sighed, stepping in to sit in the warmth of his vehicle, while he rounded the front of his truck to get in the driver's seat. He put it in drive, starting toward your apartment without allowing you to get a word in.

"What's goin' on?" He asked, hand clinging to the wheel as you leaned back against the seat. "Y'can't keep avoidin' me. You just fuck me and leave?"

Your eyes dodged his, staring at the street ahead of you. You knew you'd break down- one drink in, and it had loosened you up just enough to get emotional and honest.

He huffed; drawing your name out in that low, raspy voice that tugged on your heartstrings and sent chills up your back. Your gaze met his pleading eyes, lifting your head to find the brown irises that made your knees weak.

"You didn't have to come," You said finally. "Did Johnny call you?"

"Doesn't matter who called me," Simon tilted his head. "Answer me," He said, briefly peering over at you.

"I don't know, Simon," You narrowed your eyes.

"Don't know why you're avoidin' me?"

"I don't know about anything," You laughed, exasperated and tired.

"Talk to me, sweetheart," He said, voice just above a whisper, soft and gentle- like he usually was with you.

"Don't do that," You shook your head, your eyes closing so you wouldn't have to see the look that could break you in seconds. "Don't be sweet and nice to me."

He chuckled, "Why's that?"

"I've been an asshole," You sighed, tears welling in your eyes.

"Just tell me what's goin' on, and we can fix it."

"There's no we, no us."

He quickly pulled over, finding a spot on a quiet gravel road that had trees hanging over it, and long grass in the ditch. His head turned as he gave all his attention to you.

"I beg to fuckin' differ. Don't care if you ain't answerin' my calls, you're mine, remember that?" His hand came to rest on your thigh.

"I can't-," You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut as stray tears fell. "I can't, Simon. We can't do this."

"Why's that?"

You exhaled harshly, sniffling as a lump grew in your throat. You swallowed, finding his eyes in the darkness.

"Because I love you," You whispered. "And I can't do that while you're miles away. And I can't ask you stay." Your voice began to quiver, which was more irritating than bearing your feelings to him.

He was silent for a few moments, his eyes darting back and forth between yours. His chest was tight, your admission of your feelings made him feel warm, content.

"Y'don't have to ask," He shook his head. "'It'll always be you. I'll always love you," He said quietly. "Y'know that, right?"

Your breath caught in your chest, desperately holding onto your last shred of self-control, eyeing down his lips. Your eyes dried themselves with the help of his words, a yearning forming in your chest that begged to be satiated by him.

"I don't know-" You started, shaking your head.

"It's you," He repeated, craning his neck to meet your eye line. "It's you, love."

His voice was low, quiet and full of sincerity. It churned your stomach.

"I just want you to be sure," You nodded. "And I want you to be here. And I don't know if you can be either of those things- and I understand." Your voice wavered again, the lump in your throat returning.

"Fuckin' 'ell," He nearly grinned, letting out a short chuckle of disbelief. "I have to get you a ring to sort you out? 'M sure. Always was- am."

"Don't joke about shit like that," You sighed, looking away, attempting to fight off the vulnerability of your position, and keep him at an arm's length.

"Jokin'? It ain't far off, love. Just waitin' for the right time." His hand briefly touched your cheek.

"It doesn't change the distance," You reasoned, watching him shake his head.

"It's finished," He answered. "My work with 141- overseas- it's done. 'M here for good, sweetheart."

"Johnny didn't mention that?" You said, tilting your head.

"'Course he didn't. I asked him to let me tell you myself."

You gasped, "I knew he called you!"

He shrugged. "Johnny ain't what I was here to talk about."

"You're here? For good?" Your brows raised themselves as you interrogated him.

"Long as you'll have me."

A rush of relief, excitement flooded through you. All the walls you'd broken down to find the gooey centre of emotion within him- it was more than worth it. The fruition of a crush you'd had since the first time you saw him; it made your heart pound.

He was real, genuine, more than just the stoic lieutenant you pinned him as. And he loved you- wholly and without conditions, obviously and without shame- even when it threatened his career. It was the perfect ending to the most fucked-up fairytale you'd ever seen.

You pursed your lips, slotting yourself closer to his seat. "As long as you want to stay," You said- resolute.

"Have t'kill me to keep me away," He teased.

Your stomach flipped, a laugh exploding from you before he cut you off with a kiss, soft and apprehensive. You shivered against him, warm lips against yours awakening the nerves in your body.

Once your mind had caught up with your body, your hands grabbed at his shoulders. It made you sigh into his mouth, savouring the feeling you'd missed. You missed him, undoubtedly, and the thought of one day being more than what you were in '141' made your heart jump.

Your smile broke through the kiss, and his greedy hands were grabbing and pulling at your waist in an attempt to keep you close. You giggled while his hands worked their way down to your ass, squeezing harshly, pulling you onto his lap. You could feel his arousal through his jeans- his hard cock pressed against you.

"'Member the first time I had you like this," He whispered against your neck, his fingers working at your pants' button. "Naughty fuckin' girl you were. Still are," You could hear the grin on his face.

His hand slipped beneath your pants, running his fingers gently over your pussy. He let out a short exhale.

"Still get so fuckin' wet for me, don't you, sweetheart?"

His rhetorical question made goosebumps appear over your skin. You pulled yourself closer to his chest, ground your pussy over his hand. Your deep breaths fanned over his chest, your fingers digging into the tight T-shirt covering his skin. You wanted more- wanted to feel him again.

Your hands worked quickly to slide his shirt off, your palms running down the thick muscle of his chest, fingers tracing the divots and protrusions of his abdomen. He let out a quiet grunt, his cock twitching in his jeans at the feel of your soft hands on his body.

He grabbed your wrist, dragging your hand down to his groin, allowing you to grab a handful of his crotch- he moaned quietly when your gentle hand caressed his cock, short huffs from his nose as his fingers worked their way inside you.

"Take 'em off," He ordered, fiddling with your waistband with his other hand.

He helped you to sit forward while you slid your pants down your hips, removing your feet from the confines of your jeans before settling back on his lap.

His calloused hands slid up and down your thighs, rounding your full hips. His fingers found the scar, the patched-up hole in your leg; you shivered as he looked down at it.

"First time I've felt it," He said, out of the blue. "Hurt at all?"

You shook your head, "No." Your cheeks flushed, overwhelmed by everything that had come together in the last few moments but especially as he dusted his fingers across your scar.

He squeezed your flesh reassuringly, leaning up to press a soft kiss against your lips. Your hands, in turn, moved quickly to unzip his pants, gently taking his cock in your hand as you knelt up on the seat.

He helped to guide his cock to the warmth of your pussy, the soft, wet flesh beckoning him closer until he sunk in, and you began to relax, sliding down his cock. Your pussy swallowed him whole, his pulsating cock twitching within your welcoming walls- his head fell back, and your hands landed on his shoulders.

"Shit, baby," You exhaled, your hips stationary while you acclimated yourself to his size again.

"Just as fuckin' heavenly," He whispered, strong hands kneading the flesh of your ass and hips. "Though now s'all mine," He grinned, smug and assured.

Your hips rolled forward, the first thrust easing any discomfort, and making you flinch when your clit rubbed against the short curls at the base of his cock. You exhaled again, a quiet shudder as he filled you entirely, so deliciously hot and hard inside you.

Your hands met behind his head, pulling yourself closer as you found your stride, taking his cock deeper inside you while grinding your clit against him.

"That's right, love," He said approvingly, his hands gripping your hips, helping you forward. "Ride it- y'know how I like it, don't you?" He cooed, greedy fingers squeezing your waist and ass in his hands.

"Keep talking," You whispered against his cheek. "I missed your voice," You said.

"That right?" He practically hummed, though a bit choked as you rode his cock. "Think you missed more than that- greedy fuckin' girl."

His hand left a slap against your ass, making you hiss softly.

"Simon-" You warned. "No teasing, been too long," You groaned.

"You wanna cum, sweetheart?" He asked, his voice dripping with mockery.

You nodded, your breaths heavier as you chased your orgasm, his voice leaking into your abdomen and pushing you forward with every single word. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, your breasts flush with his chest.

"Make me cum," You sighed.

He put two fingers in his mouth, before reaching your clit and stroking softly in a circular motion. Your back arched into his touch, practically bouncing yourself up and down his cock.

"Yes- yesyesyes," You gasped.

He let out a short, strangled grunt at feeling your pussy flutter around his cock.

"Fuckin' Christ, love," He spat, his fingers digging into your waist as he helped you ride him.

Your breath caught in your chest, warmth flooding your abdomen as you clenched your jaw, your pussy contracting around him. Your vision blurred for a moment, squeezing your eyes shut while your climax rushed over you within a matter of moments.

Stars obstructed your view of him while you blinked softly, and he wrapped a gentle hand around your throat. You quickly realized he'd released inside you already- overly sensitive and cringing each time you moved forward.

"Sorry," You gasped, relaxing into his chest, his cock still erect inside you.

"S'alright, sweetheart." He pulled your forward to kiss you, soft lips against yours.

He helped you over to the passenger seat, offering his T-shirt to help clean yourself up. Once settled back in your jeans, and sliding the seatbelt over you, you turned to him with a soft smile.

"Let's go home."

[flowers-for-the-grave]

Herons Aren't Lightweights

The Herons base was rowdy at night.

They all gathered together, tankards of beer in hand, drinking like there was no tomorrow. There may as well not have been to them.

Cleo continued brewing up drinks, adding input to the conversations going on around her.

Scott was up on the stage with Christian, asking questions in a hushed tone, yet somehow she could still hear the slur in his voice.

Eloise sat with Water, both singing somewhat poorly to bar songs and the made-up anthem of the Herons. Olive sat beside them, joining in every now and then but mostly just working on tuning their instrument.

Owen sat at one of the tables, head in his hands. He let out a low groan, eyes fluttering shut.

"Guys? I think someone needs to take Owen to bed." Cleo called out.

"Really? Already?" Olive asked. "We've only had...had..." Olive's eyes began to droop. They downed another drink. "We've only had, like, five drinks."

Water shrugged. "I can take him. Be back soon!" Water stood up, staggering a little, then approached Owen. "C'mon, let's go. You've had enough for tonight."

Owen only groaned weakly in protest.

Once Water had carried Owen out of the tavern, Cleo glanced over at Scott. He was still talking to Christian, and was gesticulating madly.

Olive and Eloise seemed distracted enough. They wouldn't mind if the next round of drinks didn't come for a bit.

Cleo carefully walked up to Scott, then paused a little behind him.

"What do I do? I- is there anything I can...do for him? I mean, we've just started talk...talking to each other again!"

Christian merely shrugged in response. "I am not sure. For now, give him some space and a little time. Eventually things between you will get easier."

Scott's ears flushed. "I don't have time to wait that long! What if one of us goes out on an expedition and never comes back? I may never get to see him again in time, and I don't want thing to be tense between us if and when that happens!" His voice rose in pitch and volume.

For a brief second, Eloise and Olive glanced his way. Then the two of them slowly turned back to each other and their drinks.

Cleo set her hand on Scott's shoulder. He spun around and grasped at the handle of his rapier, then let go when he saw it was her. "I think you should sit down now Scott. Give Christian a break."

He nodded meekly. "Yeah. Yeah, sure." Scott allowed Cleo to lead him to a seat at a table, then push him into it.

"Is it about Acho?"

Scott hesitated, then nodded. "I just...I just don't know what to do."

"Think about it in the morning. You're not thinking clearly right now. When you're sober, think about it then. For now, you can either keep drinking and drown your sorrows in alcohol, or you can take a rest like Owen. No shame in either option."

"Alcohol. Strong alcohol." He didn't stutter, and his voice was almost completely free of a slurred tone. Almost as if he hadn't had more drinks than most of the other Herons already.

"Sure?"

"Yes. I want you to give me so much alcohol that I can barely move around tomorrow. No, for the rest of the week."

Cleo sighed. It wasn't a good idea, but they were pirates.

Since when was anything they did a 'good idea'?

Olive let out a startled yelp, then a joyful squeal. "Cruppy! Hello!" Cruppy jumped at Olive's heels, rubbing against them and jumping like a puppy would. Olive bent down and stroked Cruppy, to which the crab-puppy-thing eagerly jumped into their lap for stroking convenience.

Smiling at the sight, Eloise was suddenly motivated to sing even louder and more joyfully than before. Olive joined in with equal vigour and Cruppy nestled in their lap peacefully.

Cleo shook her head with a warm grin, then grabbed the next round of drinks.

"To us!" She declared, holding her tankard tight and pushing it high into the air.

"To us!" The others parroted, with varying levels of volume and enthusiasm. Regardless, the sound could be heard well beyond the Herons' base and echoed through the town.

Water returned, arms free of Owen, and shouted, "To us!" at the top of her lungs. A delayed reaction, but a welcome one.

For the rest of the night, they all chanted the same thing over and over, falling asleep in the tavern.

They all regretted it in the morning.

But Herons weren't lightweights, and for some strange reason, they all wished to prove it.

[saltyyuuri]

Deadlock x GN!reader

💛Blunt honesty💛

words:1850

Note from Salty (me): pls excuse the spam post I can't help it I have too many ideas flowing in-I legit haven't written fanfiction in so long and now that I got back in it I can't fucking stop- anyways I am basing this fanfic off a Iso x deadlock post I saw and I'm obsessed with (fanart in question on @sunsettemplar posts)

Warnings: foul language

Song (Chemical - post malone)

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"Well I'm sorry, but it's shit- plain and simple." The blonde Norwegian declared loudly, her clear blue eyes boring into yours as she held up a can of red bull, a new flavor that had been released recently that you wanted to try. You thought it was good- but Iselin seems to have quite the opposite opinion.

"Iselin, C'mon it's not that bad-" you Chuckled out softly, sipping the drink again. The flavor was iced vanilla berry, and since you loved vanilla flavored thing- you assumed that you'd live this new drink. Indeed; the taste was getting addictive - more than expected. "(Y-N); You know I love you, right?" Iselin said, resting her real hand onto your shoulder for a short moment. "Yea ..?" You replied, cocking your head to the side.

"Good. I love you- But you have poor taste in drinks. That red bull tastes foul." She once more deadpanned- gently squeezing your shoulder affectionately as she spoke to you. Her slightly messy blonde hair fell to the side as she cocked her head to the side, leaning in to place a small and slightly rough peck on your cheek. "More for me then-" you giggle out, sipping the drink once more, not realizing that you had essentially nearly finished the can already.

"(Y-N), darling, I think that enough caffeine for today-" Iselin said as she cocked an eyebrow at your rapid consumption of the drink- lord knew you could be a gremlin when you had to much caffeine in your day. You simply smiled, finishing the can to toss it out- already feeling the burst of energy starting to take over. All Iselin could do at that moment was sigh and shake her head- but she did let a small smile take over, because whether she liked it or not- your energy burst were contagious.

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"Iselinnnnnnn-" You called out loudly from your dorm, the door was barely cracked open but lord knew you had some damn lungs in you, and Deadlock could quite literally hear you calling out for her from the common room. You had decided to spend your energy on cleaning your dorm room, now that you had some motivation you went in full swing.

Iselin made her way to your dorm- peeking her head in with a deadpan look as always. "Yes, darling?" She simply asked in a much calmer, flat tone as she watch you sort through piles of things. You turned around instantly, strutting over to her. You had a brand new, still in the package lipstick - one you had bought maybe a few months back, but the more you looked at it, less it seemed like your shade. It was a shame- the color was really pretty.

You walked up to Iselin - holding up the packaging near her face, simply observing, looking as her then the shade. "What are you doing?" Iselin once more asked in a deadpan, mild disinterested with the sudden color matching session. "I think this shade would suit you better than it would on me- wanna try it on?" You asked her with a small smile forming. You gently handed her the packaged lipstick, watching as she took it with her bionic arm, looking only mildly interested now.

"I don't usually wear lipstick. But I can try it, yeah." She simply said before tearing the package open, finally freeing up the lipstick tube from its cardboard and plastic packaging. She headed to a nearby mirror- the one mounted over your dresser- to apply the reddish brown lipstick; as she walked over she read the packaging briefly for the fun of it. "Highly pigmented, transfer proof... Hm."

She finally started to apply the lipstick - the color suiting her quite well. You walked up behind her, looking at her reflection with a slight smitten look on your face. "You look pretty." You said with a smile as you looked at her reflection.

"Mhm... I want to test the lipstick and see if it's as good as advertised." Deadlock said, turning to look at you, a small smirk forming on her lips. Before you can ask her how or why- she had a hand gripping your chin to hold your face in place. "WaiT-!" But any further questions or protests were brutally cut off with her lips- first on your lips before being peppered all over your face.

You turned into a giggling mess- feeling giddy and slightly flustered as she gave you that sudden burst of affection, your cheeks tinting a light pink while she left lipstick marks all over. After about a minute of her attack; Iselin pulled back, still holding your chin as she looked over your face.

Iselin frowned, taking out her phone. She turned your head to face to mirror, face squished in her hand. You had a smitten look on your face while she looked annoyed, snapping a picture of you two in the mirror. "It's not transfer proof -... And highly pigmented my ass- after the two first kisses its faded." Iselin mumbled out - she was actually going to leave a 1 star review on the brands website with the picture of your kiss-marked face as proof.

"Iselin! I look dumb in that picture -" you whined slightly, your face still being squished in her hand as she was writing the review with her other hand. "Darling, you always look dumb. But you're my dummy." Deadlock replied - finishing up her review before turning to place another kiss on your lips before you could make any complaints on her remark- once more melting into the kiss.

"I need to head off to prepare for a mission now, darling." Iselin said as she pulled away from the kiss, loosening her grip on your chin and jaw before pulling you into a hug. You were still a but lovestruck from her affection bombing of Earlier, but that went without any complaints on your end- and she knew very well that you were enjoying every second of the affection she had to give. "Be safe, Iselin. I love you!" "Love you too, (Y-N)."

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Deadlock had left for her mission and you were finishing up cleaning your dorm- your face still covered in kiss marks from deadlock and her new lipstick. You didn't mind it one bit- instead anytime you saw yourself in the mirror, you were giggling like a kid. The suddenness of Iselin's affection - even if it was to 'test' the lipstick- was always welcome on your part.

You knew she was a blunt and honest person - so moments like those meant so much more than it looked. Sure, she could be a bit dry on words and sometimes looked cold on her actions towards you- but if you look past the blunt exterior - her intentions and her honesty in it all is what made you melt and fall for her a bit more every time.

It had been a few hours, dinner time passing by fast as you made yourself something easy and fast to eat, mainly passing time on your phone as you waited for Deadlock to send you a message. It was in her habit to send a short, quick text whenever she was nearly done with the mission - or fully done- to assure you she was okay. You weren't generally too worried for her; she was with a team of more than capable agents to help her if need be.

And the text came by sooner than anticipated, making you smile giddily. It was just a short text, a simple "Everyone's okay- heading home soon 💛" but it always made you happy to get that good news message. You tapped on the notification on your phone, opening the chat bubble to text her back.

You: "Good to hear you're okay, love 💛"

You: "Are you in the aircraft to head back? Or still on the field?"

Iselin: "Just boarded."

You: "... So you aren't busy right now, riiiiight? 👀"

An idea was bubbling into your mind, cackling slightly as you hopped up from your bed-setting your phone down for a short moment. You rummaged in your closet, taking out her Zip up hoodie you had stolen a short while ago when she was out on a different mission. You set the lighting in your dorm to only be on the fairy lights around your mirror before getting to work.

You took off any clothes you had on except for your underwear - wearing the hoodie unzipped. You still had the lipstick marks on your face- adding a bit of spice. You picked up your phone, angling the camera to snap a picture - where the open hoodie showed off your nude chest, where the underwear was visible along with your thighs. Half your face could be seen on the picture - but the kiss marks were visible as day. You finally opened the text chat with your lover once more.

Iselin: "No- I am in the aircraft, so just on my phone. Why?"

You: "Oh no reason 👀"

Iselin: "...What did you do?"

You: "*1 image attachment.*"

You: "just this 💛"

Iselin looked at her phone in slight confusion, finally deciding to tap on the image attachment and look at the picture you sent. Once it loaded up and opened on her phone screen - she hummed in approval as a small smirk formed onto her face. The small change of behavior seemed to have caught Killjoy's attention - turning to look at her teammate.

"What has you looking at your phone that way?" Killjoy asked in a slightly teasing tone towards Iselin - raising her head slightly as if to try to peek at the phone. Iselin was quick to shut her phone- hiding her screen immediately. "(Y-N) Sent nudes." Iselin bluntly replied, her deadpan stare coming straight back as she looked at Killjoy - watching as the other sentinel froze up, clearly not expecting that answer.

"..Are you pulling my leg-?" Killjoy asked a bit bluntly, still a bit surprised by Iselin's blunt honesty. "No, she sent me a nude in my zip up hoodie." Iselin replied once more with a bit more honesty than she should have had. "I... I didn't need to know that -" killjoy said as she took a step back, allowing deadlock to have some privacy for her phone once again. "You asked." The blonde woman simply retorts, opening her phone once more.

Iselin: "You look hot in my hoodie. You going to stay like that till I get back?"

You: "If you want me too 👀😇"

Iselin: "I want you, yes."

You: "That's not-"

You: "I mean yes, I want you very much too but close enough I guess 😂💛"

Iselin: "I mean, you understood 🤷🏼‍♀️💛"

Iselin: "Now be good, I'll be home in 30. Love you."

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[straykittenidk]

Could you write something based on ambers intial reaction to see roy being flustered for the first time? or hcs on it

Imagine she doesnt expect it because roy usually puts on this cool and brave face :)

Of course! ^_^

(sorry if it's so late I was pretty busy with school)

(also it's Christmas based because I just miss Christmas and because I found such a cute Royber picture on Pinterest it's a shame not to use it)

"ARE YOU BLUSHING?"

It was just a regular Christmas Eve at Broomstown.

A holiday awaited all year by many.

How could anyone not love Christmas?

I mean, you don't have to go to work or go to school, you can drink hot chocolate, wear cute hats and gloves, build snowmen, have snowball fights, and, most importantly,

You would get lots of presents from Santa! (Or from your closest friends, if you're not a child anymore.)

And yet, even on this day, the newly funded "rescue team" of the town couldn't relax.

"You guys, we really need your help. The current vehicle that was in charge of setting up the Christmas tree is sick! And guess what that means..."

"Let me guess: it means that we gotta do it ourselves... Yeah, can't wait."

"Well, it is our job after all. We can't be mad..."

"Our job? You mean setting up Christmas trees?" Helly asked, sarcastically.

"I mean making sure we help the town in any way that we can, including setting up Christmas trees if needed, Helly."

"We better get to work fast, then! The tree is huge, and Christmas is already tomorrow!"

"Right! Instead of complaining, we should focus all our strength on working!

"You're both so motivated it makes me feel even more unsure about this..."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt you to learn a thing or two from them, don't you think?" Poli teased with a small chuckle.

"Hey! Stop teasing me! I said I was unsure, not that I wasn't going to do it at all!"

"Quiet, you two!" Jin exclaimed, interrupting their little banter.

Then, with an annoyed sigh, she turned her attention to Roy and Amber, and said:

"I do appreciate the enthusiasm, you guys, but setting up the tree isn't all! We also need help placing all the gifts of EVERY citizen down there, and so we really need a Santa Claus that would kindly do that. Well, Two Santas, given how many gifts there actually are..."

"Oh! Well, that's not really a problem is it? We'll just divide in two groups! Two of us set up the tree, and the other two go pick up all the presents!"

"Seems like a plan."

"Ahem, two groups of two? What about me?"

"Right, well, what we meant to say was one group of two and one of three, of course, hahaha...!" Roy awkwardly laughed, trying to keep Jin from getting angry exploding like always.

Jin crossed her arms, but felt satisfied after she was included in the activity.

Without pressing on the issue even further, she said:

"Anyways, let's just make these groups and get straight to work. Me, Poli and Helly will be in charge of the Christmas tree, since Helly can fly, Poli's the strongest one in our team and I'll watch over them to make sure they're doing everything right. Amber and Roy will go pick up the gifts from the Post Office and bring them to us. Is that okay?"

Everyone agreed,

"it's settled then. Oh, and, Roy, Amber, grab these hats!" Jin said, as she grabbed two Christmas hats from her bag and threw them at the two.

"Are you sure we need to wear these? How is this necessary?"

"It's the rules, you're Santa, you gotta wear the hat! Or do you want me to get the white beard for you as well?" Jin teased with a smirk, getting a giggle from Amber.

"Haha, no, no... I was just asking. The hats are pretty cute, anyways. Right, Roy?"

Roy looked at Amber and smiled warmly at her, nodding his head

"Yes, they're pretty warm and comfortable."

"Glad to hear that, you two. Now, off you go!"

Roy and Amber quickly drove away, leaving the headquarters and heading together towards the Post Office to retrieve all of the presents.

"Jin, you know I'm not the strongest of the group, it's definitely Roy... So why did you-"

"So Roy could go alone with Amber, duh!"

"Wait, so that's... That's like... Oh... Oh! You mean it's like a secret Christmas date?!"

"Took you long enough!"

"Wait... So are the hats also-"

"Yeah, I lied. They aren't necessary, I just wanted to see them with cute matching hats."

"But when I lie then suddenly it's not okay, huh..."

"Hey! In my defense they're so cute together yet SO oblivious it makes me mad! I just want them to realize their feelings and kiss already!"

"yeah, they should really confess to each other, but it also isn't good to rush them. It needs to happen naturally, we just gotta give those lovebirds some time."

"Let's see how this date goes then! Hopefully they won't just stutter and awkwardly talk over each other like last time!"

___________________________

"Oh dear..."

"I didn't expect there to be so many!" Roy exclaimed, as he and Amber looked at all the piles of presents scattered across the office.

"Well, let's start. The sooner we begin the sooner we finish."

Roy nodded, and together the started to grab the presents 5 at a time and putting them on a cart that they would have to bring to the others.

"Amber, how are you going to spend the Christmas holidays?"

The ambulance smiled slightly, without taking her eyes off her work.

"Well, I don't really know... I was thinking of just spending it quietly at home, with some friends and family. You know, the usual." She answered.

"Oh, I see. Well, my family couldn't make it to Broomstown this year, so I guess I'll have plenty of free time on my tyres..."

"oh, I'm sorry to hear that... Why couldn't they come?"

"Well, they were just too busy. I mean, both of my parents work, and they have my little brother to take care of, so they just couldn't make it here for Christmas."

Amber stayed silent for a bit.

"it must be tough being so far away from your family, I couldn't imagine that."

Roy laughed.

"Well, it isn't as awful as you may think. Yes, I miss them sometimes, but I'm doing just fine here! Haha..."

Amber frowned, but didn't say anything as she placed some more presents on the cart.

She could see right through him.

"You know, you don't have to pretend like you're always okay. At least, you don't have to do that around me, Roy."

Roy stopped in his tracks, caught completely red-handed.

"W-what? I'm not pretending, I really am just fine! Look-"

"Roy."

Her voice turned stern for a moment, but with a soft undertone. She wasn't having any of that, and Roy could tell. He knew her well, and as it turned out, she knew him as well, perhaps even more than he knew her.

"I-I..."

"It's okay if you don't want to talk right now, but I just..."

She stopped, as she turned her gaze from the work to her best friend, now facing him directly.

"I just worry about you, okay?"

As she said that, Amber approached Roy and gently held both of his hands, that were already cold from the chilly winter weather.

As he felt her fingers brush against his palm, he felt a shiver run down his spine, and he felt his cheeks turning a warm, flushed red color.

He blushed.

"Amber, you... you really do..?"

"Of course I do! Does it look like I don't? You're my best friend, I care about you a lot, you know?"

Roy stayed silent for a few minutes, still processing what he just heard.

She cares about him. She knows he isn't fine,

Because she cares.

She was so close to him he felt like he was about to explode.

"I-I'm... Y-you, I mean, thank you... You're the best girlfr-... Er.. I mean friend I ever had Haha.. ha... ha."

Amber looked at him with warmth, until her gentle expression turned into a smug smirk.

"Aww, are you flustered?"

Roy almost jumped, letting go of Amber and slapping them immediately on his cheeks to try and cover it up.

He really was loosing his cool, something that rarely ever happened to him before.

"I..."

Roy sighed, knowing that he couldn't change the subject Anyways.

"How could you tell right away? Am I really such an awful liar...?"

"Not at all, you are a pretty good liar, I must admit." Amber praised him and patted his shoulder, as she spoke "But so am I. Liars know liars, you could say."

Roy blinked twice in surprise.

Amber, the nicest, most kindest most beautiful soul in the whole world, was a good liar?

"You? A... liar?"

"Yeah, I knew you'd be surprised. I don't like lying, that's why I rarely do it, but that doesn't mean that I don't know how to, once in a while."

"Wow, I... I never knew that about you."

"Well, now you do! You're the first person I told this to, actually."

"really?"

"mhm, really."

Silence. Roy was still shaken up from earlier. He felt ashamed of being so vulnerable in front of amber, he felt weak and useless.

"I'm... I'm really sorry that you had to see me like... this." Roy shyly said, in embarrassment.

"But Isn't that a good thing?"

"Huh...?"

"You showed me the real you. Not some fearless and heroic firefighter, but the real you, so I did it in return. Now we're even. That makes us even closer than before, isn't that amazing?"

"I... I guess It is..." Roy's answers were short, and a bit repetitive, because he was so nervous he couldn't even come up with a proper answer.

Amber smiled warmly, and then she looked at Roy's head.

Without saying anything, she came closer, and without asking she adjusted the Christmas hat that was about to fall.

"And besides, I like this side of you. It's genuine, and cute." She whispered softly, as she looked directly into Roy's eyes.

Roy blushed even harder now, and Amber obviously noticed, since she let out another soft giggle.

But this time, Roy didn't cover it up.

He was flustered, but not embarrassed.

Because he could trust Amber just as much as he could trust his family, or Poli.

She was his best friend, or, maybe even something more...

Amber was so beautiful, he couldn't even think straight.

After adjusting the hat, she stepped away from Roy to give him some space, as she went back to work.

"...Oh, Amber! About my family..."

"hmm?"

"Could I... maybe, tell you about them another time?"

"Of course, whenever you want to. I'm always willing to listen."

She smiled again, and this time, the first thing Roy thought was that she was more beautiful than all of the stars behind her.

"Now let's finish with this tiresome job, Santa! The others must be freezing while they're waiting for us!"

"Haha, I'm coming, I'm coming!"

[ceridescent]

But you know the killer doesn’t understand — M., Wanda

Actress!Wanda Maximoff x Actress!Female Reader

Summary: You genuinely had no idea why Wanda would call you, when everything she needs are within her reach. But then she asks you on a date downtown, and you say yes, because this way things will go back to the way it was. You learn how cruel hope could be.

Warnings: Heavy angst, toxic relationships, illicit affairs, mentions of pregnancy, allusion to homophobia.

Word count: 2, 432

Author’s note: Here’s a modified, detailed one-shot based on Phoebe Bridgers’ Moon Song! I made a very short one recently that I scrapped off here although it’s still present on my Ao3 account.

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I deceive myself that the throb of my chest conveys the excitement of seeing her again. Not pain, not betrayal. Only joy and acceptance.

It was quiet inside, almost lifeless, that I doubt the motive behind this, and I try not to, again.

A quiet exchange of relief begets — a subtle smile, none of the creases by my eyes.

“You came,” she sighs and my dimple pops out. “Of course,” I mumble, disregarding her failed attempt to hide her solemnity. I sit on the floor, behind the door, by her side. My head automatically rests on top of Wanda’s shoulders, stiff and unwelcoming. Shuddering due to my crisped and wet hair, my bones rattling not because of the hasty snowfall.

That didn’t stop me from moving, I think this was what was needed of me. Skin over skin, bonds laced, assurance.

“I rushed as soon as I could, I didn’t know snow was-“

“Hush.”

Wanda looks at me to command silence, her green eyes frighteningly fragile. She puckers her lips, finalizing her request, shaking her head as I whisper “I’m sorry,” lowering my head in shame. “Please don’t”

“Please”

Wanda pulls my neck into her, busy cradling my rotting body into her embrace, my neck sputtering burning blood leaking through the slit. She kisses me on top of my head and for a moment everything I’ve lost disappeared. “Warm enough?”

I look up at her small smile, “warm enough,” repeating the words we both want to hear. It is true. She keeps me warm whenever she can.

Wanda couldn’t have done that, she couldn’t have done that to me.

But she is happy now, almost there, my presence filling her lungs, the wilting roses tucked in between the spaces of her sternum unwilting. Soon, the thorns will be strong enough to pierce her. There would be nothing I could do to help.

I am close enough, I can guarantee by the smooth curve of her cheekbones highlighting her blush, the little light in her green eyes that just never shines bright.

Wanda found it difficult to speak recently, most of the time I had to scoot over and hear to her heartbeat, refusing to listen for my sake. Nonetheless in the end, I understand. That is the least I could do for her.

Thus the tilt of her head I welcome, the burn of her green gaze, the moisture of her lips.

Positioning herself to capture me with her lips — “I’m so grateful to you” — I feel her tongue bearing down on me before I could feel her kiss. Rushed and desperate and uncaring; the best way she knows how.

“I miss you”

I am beginning to shatter. I pull her for a kiss in return — the supple flesh, the reason behind it — until we both forget.

“I’m s-sorry, I…” breaking free, I disconnected without sight, shutting my eyes down before any of my other senses. “It’s just…”

“Don’t say anything else,” Wanda whispers and slides her fingers along the skin in between mine, looping them together before they fall. “Stay.”

She turns delicate, peppering kisses along my cheek and jaw each drop of my heartbeat, holding my face like holding a maimed bird. “We’ll go out, have much fun. I’ll take you out to this pub downtown where no one knows it’s us.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

Jests work out just fine between us. At least, that’s the normality we can’t shake.

Wanda pulls the middle of my hair so I’d look up, grinning widely. It's almost as if she's trying for an audition.

I just can’t stop being malicious like this.

Her other hand tucks my lengthening side bangs in the backs of my reddening ears, the other massaging my occipital.

“I want to take you out on a date,” she exhales, “I want to eat dinner with you without a care in the world. I want you-“ planting her lips against mine, sucking the air off my lungs. I need her as much.

Wanda tried to take it to the bedroom but I just can’t do it right now.

She smiles through it all, an emphatic nod without exchanging words. Nothing could undo what had been done. Wanda doesn’t let go of my hand.

Until she’s driving the car toward our destination, a park downtown with a nice view. She says there’s a big cherry blossom that I haven’t seen before, and when she can, squeeze my hands three times. It’s a method we’re deeply accustomed to, a cipher unable to be deciphered by the common people.

My love takes the lead in long strides, her and her big feet, and her big eyes that’s looking down at me all the time. It takes an effort — “you mesmerize me” — so I blush when I receive praise from her. She just knows what to say and what to do. Wanda sees me for who I am, and it only makes her bolder to stand by me. She knows me and she chooses me.

We don’t mention the bruises that colors my now patched skin, hidden in between shoulder and jaw. I’ll just have to wait for time to heal it, although it might take forevermore.

Strolling a safe, bare space in the midst of April, the snowfall I encountered was probably last, feels so liberating I believe I had shed a newer skin. Wanda helps by kissing me everywhere she could.

Without a care in the world it is, blabbering mouths and innocent laughter and fiery touches fill our thirty-minute conversation before we decide the weather is ailing for Wanda to remain outside longer, but not before we take snaps of each other under the big pink tree.

“I’ll take water, please, thank you”

The waiter jots down my lover’s refreshment and leaves the table. I am a grinning girl who can’t be helped. “What?” Wanda gives me a suspicious look that transitions into a smug smirk. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.

“I like it better like this. Real and easy to touch. Very 4D,” I giggle and pinch her cheeks, pulling her in for a chaste kiss. A hearty laugh erupts from me seeing her face chasing my mouth. Wanda chuckles, blood rushing through her cheeks, “I-I feel…

“I feel like a teenage girl taking my crush out on our first date,” she confesses, hiding her face with her hands. “And how would you impress your girl crush on your first date?”

��Being here is enough, I suppose…”

“Lame! Lame! Lame!” I shout, booing her. She only coos and purrs like a defeated cat. “I can’t just play with you whilst we’re outside…it’s inappropriate,” Wanda reasons, rubbing the back of her neck as she purses her lips.

“Lame! Lame! Lame!” I repeat with the same emotion and reject the cowardly response of excusing myself to the restroom and have an awful five-minute breakdown. I could never hate Wanda for what she’d done, I could never hate her no matter the cause.

“Let’s talk, please, my love,” Wanda lowers her voice as she reaches for my hand, shaking even before she touches it. “We’re outside, I can’t do this right now-“

“Okay, fine! Do whatever you want,” she fumes, tossing my hand away, refusing to look at me until the server brought us the drinks. “Are you guys ready?”

“Yeah, we’re leaving. Come, Y/N.” I retaliate, sipping on my cocktail like I’m on a vacation. I’m supposed to. “Please,” she tries, “I’m tired, I’m getting suffocated-“

“I apologize for your condition, miss. Is it perhaps the heating system?”

Wanda begs more, “You can screw off, thanks for the concern. Honey, please, I need-“ and when that didn’t work, she

drags me out of the pub where we planned to make everything seem normal, to no avail. It’s natural, that when the edges of a picture have ripped apart, the center follows. Her heavy footfalls, quick and sturdy, impatient and agonizing whilst I trudged along. We come home disorientated, both for the same reason, one I cannot digest the longer she gives me the silent treatment.

I am paralyzed.

“Has this been happening a lot?”

“Maybe,” Wanda responds in a gurgle, nauseated, leaning her palms against the kitchen sink, wiping the residue off her mouth. “Sucks not to be around, huh?”

She tiptoes toward the couch, giving me an accusing look, wobbly as she throws herself on top of it to lay.

“You can’t talk to me like this right now!” I huff and rush to fish a bottle of water from the refrigerator and sit next to her, ignoring my moistening neck, back to spreading red, aiding Wanda’s hydration. My head is a bomb of worry, my heart palpitating in concern.

“Is this your first time? Talk to me, Wanda, please,” I beg, squeezing her hand it turns scarlet.

“I am talking to you,” she whispers, resting against the soft cushion, her mind elsewhere. She swats her hand away, hissing. “It is my first time. Say, you weren’t with me when we first scanned my belly, did you?”

“It is not my child, Wanda!” I burst, the suppressed emotions I had kept hidden came out like the applause and affirmations the masses have shown when they found out before me.

“The child isn’t mine, Wanda, but you-“

And my secret lover is crying now, the best actress of our generation, the wife of Vision to the public eye. “He’s yours he’s yours he’s yours,” she chants until it is enough for me to believe it.

She shakes her head, unable to get a hold of the situation, water leaking out of her fingers no matter how much she clasps onto it. “I thought you wanted this too?”

I can’t believe she’d say that.

“H-how could you say that?” I stammer in disbelief, shaking as I fall to my knees. I crawl to her and bow my head on her thighs, grasping what I can to bring me back to her. “I w-want the- you could have told me! You could have told me!”

Wanda reasons, “I was too overwhelmed I-“

“You don’t forget the one you love, Wanda!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m sorry, please, get up, don’t kneel-“ and even as I wish to oblige, I just can’t get up, the weight of her betrayal pinning me down. “You could have told me…before…before I found out from them…you could have told me if you wanted to…”

Please listen to me. Please listen to me.

She caresses my head, “I love you, Y/N. My baby…it’s-it-I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you for- so you- I couldn’t-“ ruffling her hair and hiding her tear-stained cheeks.

“F-for you. I didn’t want you to see because it would hurt you-“

“That is not up to you, Wanda!”

“-that you’re showing up as my friend, and not my lover- and you’re-he’s not-“

“You could’ve told me…I would’ve been by your side. That’s all I ever want…” I am begging her for something she cannot undo, something that has passed, something indelible. The three of us agreed to it, so I believed I had the right to know. It didn’t cross my mind they would begin to treat me like the press.

Harder she cries, apologizing. She pulls away from me, hugging her legs, caving in. “I don’t deserve you. You don’t deserve to be kept secret. I don’t deserve to hurt you.”

“N-no, don’t say that,” I countered, “you can’t say that, that only means you won’t try.”

Please don’t give up on me. Please don’t give up on me.

“Is there anything else I could do to stop you from hurting?” She looks at me like she is losing hope in us, but most especially in herself.

“It doesn’t matter now, okay? It happened, and I’m okay with this pain-“ I pat my chest, nodding my head, “I’m okay- we are t- you did it to protect me. We do this to protect ourselves. You hear me?” I reach out and place a palm on her quivering leg, making her turn around. “Don’t turn your back on this, you’re only saying that because you regret it,” I weep, “don’t give up on me, please.”

“I just want to love you in plain sight.

I want to love you without dividing it with someone else.”

I share a bitter smile, “will you? Give it all up for me?” already knowing the answer.

“We both know it’s impossible,” I say, speaking for her. Wanda hugs her body closer, unable to look me in the eye. “I love you,” she says so quietly it’s as if it was never uttered.

The rest of my happiness never mattered if Wanda wasn't involved. If it isn’t Wanda, what else is there to live for?

“I was supposed to give you a good night,” she sniffles and wipes the snot clogging her nose.

“It’s okay. Just let me love you, please. Let me be here.”

Please don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.

“I called you,” Wanda begins quietly, “I called you,” repeating it in a loud tone, wavering. “You didn’t pick up, I thought-“

“You tried?”

“I tried,” she wept, reaching for my hand. “I’m sorry.”

What makes that sorry different from all your other sorry’s before, my love?

I chuckle, shaking my head. “You called me three hours after they got a hold of your pregnancy leak. You called me to apologize.”

“I-“ Acid tears leak out of her green eyes, a pool of never ending guilt and sadness. Wanda whimpers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” reeling off her favorite words. What else could she say to this?

She’s paralyzed, “I’m sorry,” fading into the abyss. Whimpering, I get up and pace in the living room. “You didn’t mean it?” I call, fighting the urge to weep again. “Right? You didn’t?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she keens, shifting slightly, her gaze planted in me. “I love you.”

“It’s okay…” I mumble, going back to Wanda, kneeling down so I can meet her starry eyes. “…it’s alright. I get it. Hey,” I pause, grounding her, rubbing my thumb over her knuckles, “I get it. I understand. It’s okay, it’s— I’ll be fine,” running my fingertips over her crown when she bowed, “don’t you worry.”

“Are we okay?” Wanda croaks, nuzzling her cheek on my palm, whispering the very same words. “We’re okay,” I smile bitterly, “we’ll be fine,” uttering the words we both want to hear, until it runs out of meaning. I hope to God it never will.

[karatekels]

Mediation - Chapter 5 - TIGmas Day #9

Remember how last chapter's smut was fluffy and sweet? Yeah, this is the opposite. Have fun!

[I will likely edit this later but I've been staring at it all day and needed to release it into the ether to cleanse my soul]

TW: graphic sex, rough sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), questionable dubious consent (Cash is a smooth talker that can waltz you right into subspace), spanking, dirty talk, degradation and humiliation kink that came from idk where, anal (fingering), orgasm denial, bdsm in general, Cash is the kinkiest fuck

Previous Parts: Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

---

Mediation

Chapter 5: Confrontation

---

Reader’s POV:

You are woken up the next morning by the sun streaming through the window and onto your face. You stretch beneath the blankets, your body aching deliciously as the events of the night before slowly come back to you. Poking your head up, you see that Terry isn’t in bed beside you, and a cursory glance around the apartment suggests he may have stepped out.

You slip out from under the covers, shivering slightly at the morning chill, and head to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you feel a hint of shame at the situation you find yourself in. Never once in all the times you’ve fantasized about being with Terry did you think it would end up being a one-night fling, let alone one motivated by such a whirlwind of emotions.

And it had been amazing; better than anything you had imagined during the lonely nights in your apartment. Your chemistry had been undeniable from the moment your lips first touched, and you feel your pulse speeding up just at the thoughts of the night before. You had history, you had chemistry, you trusted one another… it would be so easy for your relationship to transition into a romantic one. Based on the way he treated you last night, with nothing short of reverence, you think you can safely assume that Terry is already there.

So what exactly was holding you back?

You ponder the thought as you exit the bathroom, but before you can start looking for your scattered clothes the front door starts to open, and you can only dive back under the covers, feeling shy. Terry enters, his back to you as he pushes the door open, a tray laden with coffee, juice and breakfast held in front of him as he makes his way over to you. Seeing you’re awake, he moves to set the tray down on the foot of the bed before taking a seat beside you, leaning down to sweetly kiss your forehead. Your heart takes off in your chest the moment his lips make contact.

“Good morning,” he greets you softly, a shy smile on his as he looks down at you wrapped in his sheets. You can’t help but return his smile, feeling your cheeks redden under his gaze as you return the greeting.

“Where did you get –” you start, pausing when Terry gives you a sheepish look, one hand coming up to the back of his head.

“I guess Jake figured you’d spent the night,” he answers you half-finished question about where he’d gotten breakfast, his cheeks reddening to match your own. You bury your face in your hands; Jake hadn’t heard anything last night, had he?

“Hey hey, it’s okay,” he says, reaching out to stroke your bare shoulder comfortingly. When you don’t brave your embarrassment to look up at him he sighs, moving off the bed to gather your clothing for you and depositing it in your lap. “Like I said last night, this doesn’t have to change anything between us. We’re still partners, still friends, no matter what.”

You force your head up, resting your chin on your knees to look at him. “I don’t… I don’t know what I want, Terry. Last night was…” you pause, breaking eye contact as you feel your face heat again, “it was perfect.”

Terry doesn’t respond, and you eventually force yourself to look back at him only to see him looking at you with dark, hooded eyes that make you feel like he can see right through the bedsheet wrapped around you. Slowly, he closes the distance between you on his hands and knees, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss that has your mind going completely blank.

Upon hearing your muffled moan Terry pulls back, his brow knit together as though in frustration.

“Get dressed, sweetheart,” he murmurs, though his eyes seem to be trying to memorize you as you are, naked and wrapped in his sheets. “I can’t think straight, seeing you like this,” he adds, giving you a devilish smile and a wink before moving the breakfast tray over to the counter in the kitchen, his back turned to give you some privacy.

It takes you a long moment to snap out of your kiss-induced stupor, hurriedly throwing your clothes on before joining Terry in the kitchen. Hardly having to look at you, he wraps an arm around your waist and lifts you easily to sit on the counter, leaving the breakfast between you. He takes a few bites but leaves the majority of the food for you, ever the gentleman.

“Do I have to decide right now?” you ask timidly after several minutes of eating in silence.

“Of course not. Take all the time you need.” His tone is so… non-judgemental, to the point that it’s almost frustrating. You could really use some guidance here, or at least some insight into how he feels…

“But what do you want, Terry? Why is it up to me?”

With a sigh, Terry moves around the counter to stand in front of you, your knees automatically parting for him to stand between. He cradles the side of your face in one large hand, looking down at you with a small smile, but his piercing eyes reveal the depth of his feelings for you.

“I want you, Y/N,” he says, as though it were obvious. “These last few years all I’ve wanted is you, however you’ll have me,” he admits, and the conviction in his voice makes your heart clench.

“But if that’s just as friends and partners, that’s okay,” he says earnestly, and while you want to believe him, you know that it isn’t the whole truth. Last night meant more to him than it had to you, and it has you feeling guilty… for several reasons.

For one, you hate to think that there’s even a possibility that you had taken advantage of Terry’s feelings last night to make yourself feel better. You hadn’t done it out of malice – you hadn’t planned on last night at all – but maybe you had been selfish nonetheless. You’d been under the impression that you’d both held relatively harmless crushes on one another, but that had been definitively proven false from that first kiss. Terry clearly felt strongly for you, and you…

…well, another tall, blue-eyed man had complicated things for you.

And it wasn’t like you were even considering Cash Ewing as a romantic option – that possibility had fizzled and died as soon as you’d heard him on the phone last night – but, try as you might to deny it, you had started to see him as one during your week together. Thinking it through now, you suspect that was part of the reason you had been so upset by his betrayal.

It wouldn’t be fair of you to decide your future with Terry while you’re currently caught up in an emotional whirlwind; one made by your feelings for another man, no less. You have to figure things out and get your head on straight before you can even consider a relationship with Terry.

He deserved that, at the very least.

But how could you go get closure without him throwing a hissy fit?

“Terry, I think I need to cool down from last night before I can even think about this,” you start, trying not to sound suspicious.

“That’s understandable,” he says with a twinkle in his eye. “Last night was hotter than hell – I don’t blame you for needing more time to get your head on straight.”

“Terry!” you squeak, scandalized, and he chuckles as he presses himself flush against you, his hands coming to either side of your hips.

“Sorry, sunshine. Everything else can go back to normal, but I will always be able to think back on last night,” he purrs, leering down at you with a smug grin. “And I plan to. Often.”

You squirm in his grip, flustered and frustrated and far more turned on than you want to be right now.

“I’m being serious!” you whine, trying to shove him away. “I don’t want to rush into something either way. This is important; you’re important,” you insist, babbling until he takes your hands in his own, stepping back and lightly pulling you down off the counter with him.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop,” he says laughingly. “Until you make a decision, that is,” he amends, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Either way, I fully plan to talk about it with you afterwards.”

“Fine, make my decision easier,” you mutter under your breath, scowling up at him in response to his wide grin. Still beaming, he gathers the breakfast dishes and carries them to the sink to wash up.

“So, what are your plans for the day?” he asks, changing the subject. You bite your lip, debating what to tell him before ultimately deciding that the truth would be best in the long run. He won’t be happy about your plans, but that was better than the alternative of him finding out you had lied to him.

“I’m… I think I’m going to go talk to Cash,” you tell him, trying to project confidence.

Staring at Terry’s back, you watch as every muscle in his body tenses up, his hands gripping the edge of the countertop so hard you worry he’s going to snap it clean off.

“Absolutely not.”

You sigh deeply at his back, not wanting to have this turn into a fight with him.

“I’m going to go give him a piece of my mind, Terry. You may be okay with keeping everything bottled up inside of you for years, but I need closure.”

Terry turns back to you, his body language placating as he prepares to smoothly talk you out of it.

“Y/N, he’s dangerous. I can’t allow you to –”

“You can’t allow me to?” you snarl his words back at him with a harsh enough tone to have him flinching under your glare. “You’re not in charge of me, Terry.”

“I’m not trying to be ‘in charge’ of you, Y/N, I’m trying to protect you!”

“I don’t need your protection,” you sneer, your temper flaring. “Just because we’ve slept together doesn’t mean that you can tell me what to do. I’m an adult, and I’m a damn good cop – I can take care of myself!”

“Being a good cop has nothing to do with being able to handle him!” he exclaims, grabbing you by the shoulders and bending to your eye level, his blue orbs wide and pleading.

“We’re not going to be fighting to the death, Terry. And look at it this way: I can threaten to throw his ass right back in jail if I get wind of him doing anything. Then you’ll get the last laugh.”

“Then let me come with you.”

“No,” you say firmly. “This is between me and him. If you want a turn to yell, you can wait and I’ll come tag you in once I’m done with him.”

“Y/N–”

“You said that nothing between us would change,” you remind him, internally wincing as you take advantage of his weak spot. Terry McCain was a man of his word.

Sure enough, he clenches his jaw, glaring at nothing for a long minute – you remain silent and still, letting him battle it out with himself – until he finally lets out an aggravated sigh.

“If I don’t hear from you by three o’clock this afternoon, I am coming to find you.”

You let out a sigh of relief, wrapping your arms around his middle and hugging him tightly. It was only just after nine now; plenty of time for you to go home to shower and change, verbally eviscerate Cash Ewing and emotionally recuperate before meeting back up with Terry.

“Part of me is flattered you think I might take more than five hours to yell at him,” you joke, trying to alleviate the tension from the conversation. You feel his laugh more than you hear it, the reverberations rumbling through his chest as he returns your embrace, squeezing you almost desperately against him.

“I know what you’re capable of, Officer,” he replies, and you look up to see a slightly strained smile on his face. Well, he was trying, at least.

“Thank you, Terry. I promise I’ll be careful,” you say sincerely, wanting to reassure him.

“I’d like to make you dinner tonight,” he tells you suddenly, and you’re a bit befuddled by the abrupt change in topic. Realizing that he was likely feeling anxious and wanted to make sure that you were alright after your confrontation with Cash, your heart twinges even more at Terry’s concern for you.

“That sounds great,” you say, easily giving in and savouring the genuine smile Terry gives at your acceptance.

“Then I’ll talk to you at 3,” he concedes, his gaze running across your body like he was trying to commit you to memory. You try not to fidget under his stare, letting him take you in as he needed before he pulls you into an even tighter hug, laying a tender kiss on your forehead.

You stumble slightly as you back away from him once he releases you, your eyes on his as you fumble around his apartment for your things. You aren’t sure why you can’t seem to look away; there’s just an underlying need within you to look at him as he’d just done to you. Finally managing to get your coat and shoes on, you stand by the front door awkwardly.

“I’ll see you tonight, then?” you say, the words coming out as a question. Terry levels you with an intense glare, his arms crossed tightly over his chest; you get the sense that he’s restraining himself from charging you and keeping you here with him and, importantly, away from Cash.

“Give him hell, Y/N,” he demands in a rough voice. You nod, fleeing from the apartment before he changed his mind.

One volatile oaf down; one to go.

---

By the time you get home, shower, and get changed, it’s nearly eleven, and you don’t get to Cash’s house until nearly noon. Well, he couldn’t complain that you were waking him up, at least.

The last few hours have seen your anxiety rise exponentially, to the point that you’re a frazzled ball of energy by the time you pull up to Cash’s house. Your heart is beating hard and fast in your chest, adrenaline thrumming through your veins, and you quickly throw the car in park, storming up the driveway and the few steps to his porch, immediately pounding on his door with your fist before you lose your nerve.

You don’t let up, and it only takes a minute or two for the front door to open, Cash’s angry expression softening as soon as he lays eyes on you. He seems annoyed, but you can see the relief in his eyes.

It only makes you angrier.

“Y/N?”

You ignore him, barging past his massive frame into his house and looking around suspiciously. You’re not sure exactly what you were hoping to find – a drug lab, or a counterfeit money operation, at the very least – but his house is normal, comfortable even.

“What the fuck are you looking for?!” he snaps from behind you, and you turn to face him with fire in your eyes. He’s closed the front door and is leaning against it, watching you look around his kitchen and living room with his arms crossed.

“I’m looking for whatever sneaky shit you’re up to, you jackass. I cannot believe you, Cash! I trusted you, I went behind Terry’s back for you, I stuck up for you, and you lied to me!”

He pushes himself off from the door, slowly stalking towards you with bright, unblinking eyes. You swallow thickly, your nails digging into your palms, but you refuse to back down or let yourself be intimidated.

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?” he asks once he’s closed in on you.

“I’m talking about… whatever it was that was so important that it had you leaving here last night less than half an hour before we were supposed to meet up,” you grumble, moving past the fact that you have no idea what you’re actually accusing him of.

Cash looks at you blankly for a moment, seeming genuinely confused. Of course. He’d have to be a good actor to fool Terry.

“You were here?” he asks, staring you down, his face remaining an emotionless mask.

“Yes, moron, so don’t even try to pull the wool over my eyes again or I’ll just kill you.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, as though he’s fighting a smile, and you barely keep your mouth from falling open, appalled at the thought of him laughing this whole thing off.

“What exactly did you hear?” he presses, his tone coloured with amusement and making you gnash your teeth in your rage.

“I heard that you were looking forward to seeing the payoff, and that the plan went off without a hitch,” you recite, letting him know that you aren’t fucking around. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, you son of a bitch, so don’t even try to –”

Cash lunges forward suddenly, a large hand wrapping around your wrist in a bruising grip, and you cut off your rant in surprise. He starts dragging you further into the house, and though you try wrenching yourself out of his grip and fighting him off, screeching obscenities at him all the while, he remains utterly unfazed by your efforts, pulling you over to a coffee table in the living room and moving you in front of a couch.

“Sit down,” he commands you firmly.

“Bite me, you fucking bastard!” you sneer as you try to shove past him.

He rolls his eyes, pushing you down by both of your shoulders until you topple onto it. Quickly moving around the couch, he leans down over you to thrust a notebook into your hands, opening it to a particular page of surprisingly elegant handwriting.

“Read it.”

---

Cash’s POV:

He watches your eyes scanning the lines of text, sees the tears start to form even as your cheeks turn red, clearly embarrassed by your misunderstanding. While he feels a pang of guilt watching you cry, it is largely overshadowed by his annoyance and frustration. He doubted that you felt guilty for standing him up last night.

You shut the book, tossing it onto the seat next to you, angrily wiping your tears away.

“What does a letter to Terry have to do with anything?” you snap. Terry’s stubbornness has clearly been wearing off on you.

“I left this at my therapist’s office and went to go get it last night; that’s who you heard me on the phone with. I’d been telling her about my attempts to work a case with you to make things right, and that maybe now that I’d done something good I could be redeemed in Terry’s eyes. That’s the payoff I was referring to; him maybe looking me in the eye again with anything other than disdain. I was going to get your opinion on it.”

Your mouth opens and closes like a goldfish as you stare up at him. He moves to the kitchen to cool off, pouring you both a coffee – you follow him mutely after a moment, sitting up on the barstool beside the kitchen island. He wordlessly slides a mug over to you, noting with slight satisfaction that you can’t look him in the eye, your shoulders caved inwards under the weight of your guilt.

“I was only about ten minutes late for when we were going to meet, you know,” he continues casually, as though he was discussing the weather and not how his evening had unfolded after you had failed to show up. “I texted, I called, I waited around – I even went to your apartment at one point, but I couldn’t find you. You had me worried,” he admits, his voice turning rough.

And you had. He wasn’t a man that trusted easily, especially not after his time in prison, but you had – seemingly effortlessly – wormed your way in past his defences over the past week. He had become more than fond of you, and thought that those feelings had been reciprocated until last night. You had proven yourself to be a woman of principles, and when you hadn’t shown he had immediately started assuming the worst, worried that something had happened to you.

“I’m so sorry,” you admit in a weak voice, still staring down at the counter as though you were incapable of looking at anything else. “I thought –”

“I know what you thought,” he interrupts harshly. “What happened to not judging people based on what you hear from others?”

“I… I don’t know,” you say hollowly, your eyes wide like you’re watching your perfect little worldview come toppling down around you. Part of him wants you to hurt for assuming the worst in him, for jumping to conclusions, but the rest of him…

The rest of him wants to make you see just how good he can be.

Visions of you on your knees begging for his forgiveness appear before his eyes, and he shakes his head, focusing on the real you that was here now, on the verge of a meltdown in his late mother’s kitchen.

“I think you do.”

You jump slightly in your seat, seeming to have forgotten that he was even there, and your eyes flick over to him. “W-What?”

“You wanted me to screw up, so you wouldn’t have to worry about McCain’s reaction to us spending time together this week,” he informs you matter-of-factly.

“That is not true!” you protest, though you offer nothing in the way of evidence to the contrary.

“It’s a perfectly normal reaction if you think about it,” he continues as though you haven’t spoken. “You’ve put yourself in a difficult position, stuck between two people you care about, and you saw an opportunity to take the easy way out without having to really make a decision.”

“You’re being ridiculous –”

“You’re being naïve,” he counters. “Come on, what do you think you would’ve done if Terry had come back from his little vacation and hated that we’d spent so much time together?” he asks, staring you down until you feel pressured to answer.

“I told you from the beginning that Terry was my priority, Cash,” you spit out, your words intending to injure, but he brushes past the feeling of rejection. That had been what you’d said in the beginning, but he knows that it wouldn’t have been an easy choice for you to see through to the end. Not after spending the better part of a week working closely together.

“Of course,” he agrees genuinely, and you seem taken aback by his easy acceptance. “But you’re not an asshole, Y/N. You would’ve had to come tell me yourself, and that would’ve stung far more than being able to blame it on my return to a life of crime.”

“You… That’s…” you stammer, and he takes a sip of his coffee so that he has a moment to relish in this victory. He'd always been intuitive, but his years working as an officer followed by his time in prison had honed his ability to read people, to understand the thoughts behind their actions.

“I don’t blame you for it, Y/N,” he murmurs, leaning towards you across the counter and holding eye contact with you. “I know better than most how easy it can be to fall into the trap of trying to do the right thing the wrong way.”

A flash of sympathy steals across your face, and he smiles at it. You really did seem to understand him more than most anyone else. And it had happened so quickly…

“I guess that would make sense,” you concede reluctantly, looking ashamed of yourself. “But I didn’t do it knowingly, I swear!”

“I know.”

You look at him in silence, your brow furrowed in frustration. His patience runs out after a minute.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” he presses, genuinely curious. You press your lips together into a thin line as you choose your words.

“I don’t… I don’t get why you’re not more upset with me,” you mumble after awhile, your eyes back to staring at the countertop.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m still pissed at you,” he informs you seriously. “But now I don’t have to feel guilty for eating all of your spring rolls…”

He cracks a grin at the indignant noise that escapes you, but you can hardly call him out on it when it had been your choice to not show up last night.

“I guess that’s fair,” you grumble, flopping your head down on top of your arms which rest folded on the kitchen counter. He takes the opportunity to stare at you – well, what he can make out through your mop of curls. How differently could last night have gone if he hadn’t forgotten that stupid book?

He’d contemplated making a move on you last night, confident that he would get a reciprocal response from you, any hesitance banished by the presence of alcohol and the celebratory mood. He knew that his attraction to you wasn't just a symptom of going years without a woman; you were something special, someone he had clicked with faster and more deeply than he had with anyone else.

Ultimately, he’d decided against it before you were due to arrive; he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize Terry’s forgiveness. The things he’s done for that man, he thinks to himself as his eyes rake over your wilting form.

His self-sacrificing mood crumbles to dust as you straighten back out, tucking your hair behind your ears and inadvertently showing him a flash of a dark mark on your neck.

“What is that?” he asks in a low growl, his jaw clenched shut. You jump, startled by his change in tone, not sure what he’s referring to.

“W-What’s what?”

He’s moved across the kitchen in an instant, roughly grabbing a fistful of your hair and lifting it up, tilting your head to the side and baring your neck.

“Ow! Cash, what the hell?!” you hiss at him. You try to pull away from him, but he feels the moment you realize what he’s looking at, your body going taut with tension and freezing in place. He glares hatefully at the hickey, his blood pumping with a pure rage he hasn’t felt since Devlin paid him a visit in prison to gloat.

“Well, I guess that explains where you were last night,” he sneers at you, though he’s disturbingly gentle as he releases his grip on your hair, moving away from you.

“Excuse me?!”

You’ve got some nerve acting offended, having come here to throw accusations at him while showing off a love-bite from his best friend.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. Though I have to say, I’m almost impressed with Terry – I would’ve thought that fucking your partner would’ve gone against his precious morals.”

“What makes you think –”

“That you were with McCain? Please. Even setting aside the fact that you’re practically joined at the hip, where else would you go if you thought that I of all people had betrayed you?”

The words are bitter in his mouth as he spits them at you. Not only had he failed to reconnect with Terry despite his best efforts, but he’d pushed you into the man’s arms all because of one dumb misunderstanding.

“Oh, well don’t you think highly of yourself?” you say with a scowl, hopping down off your stool and stomping over to him.

“Am I wrong?” he asks, not able to keep the venom out of his tone as he looks down at you with mock innocence.

“That’s not the point!”

“Oh? Then what is?”

“The point is that my life is none of your fucking business!” you shriek at him.

“Then why did you spend the last week trying to make me a part of it?!”

The question hangs between you for a moment, both of you panting slightly from the force of your little shouting match.

“Don’t be an idiot, Cash,” you say dismissively. “We were working on a case together.”

“I’m not a cop anymore, Y/N. Why didn’t you just get the information from me and move forward with the investigation without me, Officer?”

“I thought the whole reason you came to me with that was to get back into Terry’s good graces!”

“It was, but involving me directly as much as you did was definitely not going by the book,” he points out, closing in on you until you back away. He repeats the dance with you, herding you back towards the counter. You aren’t going anywhere until he’s gotten the answers he wants from you.

“So what would make such a noble, good little girl let someone with a criminal history get so close, hmm? You were with me because you wanted to be, end of story.”

“No, not end of story!” you argue, shoving him in his broad chest as he cages you in against the counter. “You don’t get to just dictate how things are like this!”

“No, I suppose that would be your fuck buddy’s domain, wouldn’t it?” he snarls, giving you a mocking smile. He can tell that you long to slap it off his smug face, your hands balled into little fists at your sides, and part of him hopes you do it. “He gets to make the rules for everyone, doesn’t he?” he presses, goading you further.

“First of all, you presumptuous bastard, and not that it’s any of your business, but Terry and I are not ‘fuck buddies.’”

“Really?” he snorts, very much doubting that that was the truth. Terry had mostly stopped having casual flings even before Cash went to prison, and you hardly seem like the type to have a one-night stand, with a coworker no less.

“Really,” you insist, your tone adamant, and he can’t detect any tell to indicate that you’re lying to him.

“You’re not together?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at you. He notices you flush, and wonders at the reason behind it.

“We’re not together.”

Cash quickly weighs his options. If you’d gone to Terry last night, he undoubtedly was under the same assumption that you had been: that he had returned to criminal activities. That likely erased any chance he had of yesterday’s crime ring bust working in his favour towards earning Terry’s forgiveness. That ship had sailed, likely for good at this point.

Shockingly, his dejection at the thought of having lost his first, last, and likely only opportunity to patch things up with Terry is nearly overshadowed by his anger and frustration at knowing that the man has taken you from him now as well.

Well, if he's going to lose everything that matters in his life regardless, he’s at least going to leave with something to remember you by.

“So you won’t object if I stake my own claim then?” he asks nonchalantly, poised to strike.

“No, I –”

He cuts you off, his lips crashing against yours as he pins you back against the counter, pressing your arms tightly against your sides. Your initial response is to kiss him back, your body desperately responding to his rough attentions with your own fiery passion, and fuck it’s good.

Shamelessly taking advantage of your enthusiasm, he pulls you flush against his chest and coaxes your tongue into playing with his own, but as your awareness returns you try to push away from him. Eventually you resort to biting his tongue hard enough to get him to yelp and free your mouth, thrashing yourself out of his grip as one hand releases you to go to his mouth. You hadn’t broken skin, but it had been enough to hurt.

Gazing down at you with renewed interest, he lets his pain morph into pleasure. You’re a little spitfire, but he doubts you’ve ever been pushed to your limits. Lucky for you, he’s more than willing to give you a taste of what you’ve been missing out on, especially since this would likely be his one and only chance.

“That wasn’t a ‘Yes,’ Cash! Just because I’m not with Terry doesn’t mean you can just molest me.” He snorts for all response, electing to focus on the fact that while you had wriggled out of his grip on you, you hadn’t tried to duck under his arms and escape. It may have been years since he’s been with a woman, but he can still recognize the signs of desire easily enough; you want him bad, and you want him to take you.

Now it was just a matter of getting you to realize it.

“Officer, I believe they call what you’re doing entrapment – you’re not allowed to set a trap only to punish me when I walk into it,” he teases, stoking the flames of your anger. Anger was a form of passion, after all, and he can easily see a path to getting yours to morph into one more agreeable for his desires.

“I’m not setting a trap! Have you ever considered that I just don’t want to be with you?”

“Now is hardly the time for jokes, Y/N.”

“You are the most arrogant, idiotic –”

“There you go again, trying to rile me up into taking you.” He sighs, dramatically rolling his eyes and biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at your reaction. You were made for him to rile up.

“Why on earth would I ever –”

“Because you want to lose control, sweetheart,” he explains patiently, giving you a wicked smirk. “You want to, but you don’t want to lose that good-girl reputation you’ve built up. Terry is the safe, right option that you want to take, but you can’t deny that you want me too.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoff dismissively, but he can see from the look in your eye that he’s said just the right thing. No wonder you two had gotten on so well; you were made for each other. He needs to take, and you need to be taken from.

“The only thing that’s ridiculous is you acting like you don’t know what you’re doing. You push the big, bad Cash into fucking you the way you deserve without ever having to admit you want it.”

He pounces on your stunned silence, determined to break through your denial, to make you realize he’s telling you the truth.

“But ohh, do you want it,” he coos into your hair quietly, turning you and pinning your back against his chest as he keeps you in place. “And you know I can give it to you the way you’re craving, more than he or anyone else could ever hope of doing.”

His hands roam up and down your body as he pulls you against him, and your silence is deafening.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Y/N,” he urges, knowing full well that you won’t; you can’t. “Tell me to stop.”

You’re trembling in his hands now, your breath coming in ragged gasps that escalate to a squeak when he brushes your hair off your shoulder, but you don’t say a word.

“That’s what I thought,” he says smugly, right before biting down on the slope of your neck, mouth tracing the hickey and enjoying the perverse gesture immensely. So Terry had had you first. He would have you last, have you more, have you harder.

It was the least the prick deserved for keeping the two of you away from him.

“C-Cash!” you moan his name urgently, your eyelids fluttering as you tilt your head to the side to give him better access, and there’s never been a sweeter sound.

“Mmhm yeah?” he hums, holding your hips steady as he leaves a trail of smaller hickeys leading from Terry’s up to your ear. “What do you want, baby?” he whispers breathily, relishing in the way your back arches as you moan softly, your eyes rolling back. You mumble incoherently, already overwhelmed by your lust and giving a nice boost to his ego. But he wants an answer from you, and he’s going to get one. Reaching up, he abruptly pinches one of your nipples over your clothing hard enough to make you let out a strangled cry. You try to turn to look at him, but he keeps you facing forward; he’s in charge now, and you’re going to quickly learn to listen and obey.

“I asked you a question, little lady,” he growls in your ear, grinning to himself as he feels you stiffen against him at his use of your most hated petname. “Now tell me what you want,” he demands, loving how he can feel your body giving into him.

“I – I want… I d-don’t… I…” you babble, and he tsks in your ear.

“You don’t even know what you want, do you?” he asks condescendingly, hands roughly groping you over your clothes, and you whimper pathetically, the sound making his cock twitch. He brings one hand up to grip your chin firmly, turning your head to face him. He takes a moment to savour the needy look on your face: eyes glazed and unfocused, cheeks red, breath coming heavy through parted lips; you were clearly made to submit to someone. No, not to ‘someone’; to him.

“You don’t know what you want,” he repeats, lifting a finger to possessively stroke your cheek, the rest of his hand tightening his grip on your jaw. “But I do.”

Releasing you suddenly and moving backwards, he watches as you immediately whirl around to search for him almost frantically. He hasn’t even gotten started yet and you’re already addicted to his touch. Keeping his eyes on you he moves to sit on the couch, pleased when you automatically start moving towards him, stumbling slightly from your weak knees. Oh, he’s not just going to break you; you’re going to shatter for him.

“That’s right, baby,” he croons, and your eyes shine at the praise. “Come to me,” he coaxes, and you come to stand between his legs, shaking like a leaf and letting him know that every nerve in your body is on fire.

“You just need to be able to let go and not think for once, don’t you sweet thing?” he purrs, lulling you even deeper. You nod jerkily, a whine coming from deep in your throat. If only Terry could see you now…

“And you want it to be me that gets you there, isn’t that right?” he presses, needing to hear you say it. You start to nod again, but that’s not enough for him. “Use your words for me, Y/N.”

“Yes – Cash – please!” you whimper, and he hums his approval, lightly tracing a path up your bare arms with his fingers. Just this little bit of touch has you squirming where you stand, moaning needily for him.

“You need to know how it feels to used like a mindless little fuckdoll, don’t you?”

His degradation seems to snap you out of your trance-like, submissive state – he can see the difference in your eyes even before you start to pull away from him – and he grabs your wrist, keeping you in place.

“No more shying away from what you want, princess,” he insists, squeezing your wrist until you stop trying to wrench it out of his grip, looking at him with fire in your eyes. He’s not going to lose you now, so he’s back to converting your ire into desire. “Be a big girl and take it for once.”

You let out a scream of pent-up frustration and pounce, straddling him and kissing him aggressively, grinding against him wantonly as you tear off his shirt, running your hands and lips all over him. You try to take off your own shirt, your fingers fumbling with the buttons until you’re growling in frustration and making him laugh mockingly into your mouth; he knows it’ll piss you off and spur you on.

“Shut the fuck up and help me get this off,” you snarl, biting his lip hard enough to sting, and he is only too happy to oblige, tearing your shirt open and off of you, the buttons scattering across the hardwood floor.

“What the hell, Cash?!” you growl, shoving him against the back of the couch. He gives you an innocent smile, completely unfazed by your anger as he removes your bra, ignoring your swats at him.

“Be a little more specific in your instructions next time, Officer,” he suggests teasingly, snatching your hands up at the wrist and positioning them behind your back, holding them both in place with one hand. Pleased with the view the position affords him, he pulls your hands down lower until your centre is pressed flush against his hard cock and your bare chest is thrust up towards his face. Perfect.

Eager to tease you further he purses his lips, gently blowing cool air across your nipples and watching them harden even more with a perverse pleasure. You stubbornly cut off your whimper, but you can’t seem to help the way your hips buck against his in response.

“Ask for it.��

Your body tenses, fighting to straighten back up, but he holds your wrists down firmly between his legs to keep you in position. You shake your head, refusing to obey, and he gives your bowed body a predatory smile. He is patient as he torments you, alternating between blowing at your chest and simply leaving you stretched in your awkward position for minutes at a time. He has to give you credit; you’re holding out for longer than he thought you would, but he’s enjoying himself all the same.

Deciding to escalate things, he gathers saliva in his mouth, obscenely spitting directly onto one of your nipples before focusing his breath on that one alone. You let out an appalled gasp, but he can feel you getting wetter through your clothes.

“CAAASH!” you shriek out his name as one long, drawn-out syllable.

“Yeah?” he asks, forcing his voice to remain calm even as his grin widens. “Are you ready to tell me what you want?”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you snarl at him, and he chuckles, ghosting a finger over your neglected nipple and watching as you desperately try to press your chest upward to no avail. “Fuck, please touch me!”

Satisfied, he pulls you gently back upright with his free hand, the other still keeping your hands behind your back. Your face is especially flushed from the blood rushing to your head for so long, and you have tears and drool dripping down your face, completely incapable of cleaning yourself up. The sight has him salivating, but he’s determined to draw this out until you can’t handle anymore and then some.

“There, was that so hard?” he asks, his tone patronizing, and you try to blink past your tears to glare weakly at him. “Now, let’s see just how willing you are to cooperate. Hands on my legs.”

You immediately obey, your small hands gripping him just above his knees, shuddering as he lets out a pleased rumbling noise. So responsive, so easy to please...

“Now, you’re going to keep them there if you want me to keep touching you, understood?” he presses, and you’re nodding in agreement before the words are even out of his mouth.

“Now tell me exactly what you want me to do with these perfect tits,” he growls, and you blink down at him slowly, once again growing dizzy from the intensity of your desire.

“S-Squeeze them?” you let out meekly, your blush returning once more, and he hastens to obey, immediately moving to cup a breast in each hand, kneading them possessively and relishing in the feeling of your pebbly nipples against his palms. Your grip on his legs tightens, and you throw your head back and your chest forward wantonly with a delicious moan.

“Use your mouth,” you beg softly, and he watches your blush spread down your neck to the tops of your perky tits as you shyly instruct him how to please you. “Please,” you tack on sweetly, and your ability to sound so innocent while acting so unbelievably filthy tests his resolve.

“How, sweetheart?” he asks in a gravelly voice, wanting to see just how much he can push you past your comfort zone when it came to dirty talk. He’s rewarded for his efforts with a single moaned syllable.

“Suck!”

He immediately latches on to a nipple, suckling hungrily at your delicate, sweet skin. Your lusty cry spurs him on, and he sucks several hickeys onto the breast before switching over to the other to repeat the process, his hand continuing to knead the unattended breast until you’re writhing in his lap, mewling needily.

“More, Cash! More,” you plead, forcing your eyes open to look at him in desperation.

“More, huh?” He repeats, contemplatively running his tongue across a nipple. “And what does ‘more’ look like, Y/N?”

“Play with my nipples,” you whimper pathetically, though your embarrassment quickly burns away as his fingers tease your nipples, gently rolling the perky buds between his thumbs and forefingers. Cash’s hungry gaze catches every change he makes to your body as he plays with you, salivating at the way the hickeys scattered across your breasts start to darken over time, the way your nipples grow larger and redder under his attentions. Your whole body will be marked like this before he lets you walk out the door; he has no qualms about keeping you here.

“H-Harder,” you stammer the request between two hot little moans, and he can’t help but torment you further.

“Harder? Hmm, that might hurt you, babygirl,” he warns you lightly, though he is fully intent on giving you exactly what you’ve ask for.

“I want it to,” you reply shamelessly, and boy, are you ever a quick study?

“You want it to, huh? Then say it.”

“Please make it hurt, Cash!” you cry, tears streaming down your face, and as far as he’s concerned, you’ve just begged for your own destruction.

He pinches both nipples firmly and you roll your hips, grinding against him wantonly, his perfect little slut. He repeats the motion again and again, varying the severity of his pinches until you’re sobbing, but he’s not done yet.

“Bet you I could have you coming for me just from this,” he gloats, pleased when he hears no argument from you, just a long, drawn-out wail as you arch up further for him. He pulls at one nipple, tweaking it painfully, while he uses his teeth to give the other the same treatment, and a string of expletives and pleas burst from your lips.

“Oh FUCK I’m so close!” you scream, and he immediately stops playing with you, his hands coming down to your hips to pull you back and away from his own, leaving you with nothing to grind against as you chase your release.

“No!” you cry out in frustration, desperately trying to position yourself on top of his thigh, your hands coming up from his legs to grip his shoulders for support. “No please, I’m so close!”

“And close is where you’re gonna stay,” he informs you, his gaze unsympathetic as you look to him for release. “You’re gonna work for it today, princess. And when you finally get to come, you’re gonna feel dirty and used and powerful,” he says, his tone persuasive as he gently strokes the side of your face, his other hand lightly teasing the base of your spine. “Now get on your knees.”

You reluctantly obey, clearly upset you had been refused your orgasm as you slide off his lap and onto the floor on your knees. Your eyes lock onto his crotch as he unbuttons his jeans, opening them enough to pull out his hard, leaking cock. You immediately lick your lips, though he’s fairly sure from your dazed expression that it isn’t a conscious gesture on your part.

“Hands on my knees again,” he orders you, pleased when you place them there without hesitation. “Can’t have you taking care of that needy little pussy while you’re showing me how bad you want it, now can we?” he adds teasingly, and you shudder as he degrades you. “Now, let me see what that smart mouth of yours can do.”

Whining, you move forward, sliding your hands along his thighs as you guide your open mouth to the head of his cock, obediently getting to work and sweet fuck your mouth feels like heaven.

“So eager to please,” he growls down at you approvingly as you get his dick nice and wet. “Such a good girl for me, Y/N.”

He immediately notices that your mouth speeds up when he talks down to you, and he internally cackles at the implications of this for the future. He wouldn’t be surprised if he could talk you into bed with just a single sentence after this, no matter what claim McCain thinks he has to you.

The thought of Terry and the accompanying pang of guilt helps to stave off his orgasm, and his subsequent frustration at the man merely fuels the need to ensure that if and when you return to the other man you are thoroughly used and bruised and his, inside and out. He's tired of losing based on one bad choice he made years ago; tired of trying to be the bigger person when it never got him anywhere. Let him be what people thought he was.

Focusing his attention back on you, he catches himself thrusting into you particularly roughly, apparently having taken some of his anger out on you through a likely brutal facefucking. You clearly don’t seem to mind, staring up at him through your big, teary eyes like you were servicing a god, your hips squirming as you desperately try to hump yourself to completion as you work to get him off.

“Look at you, trying to grind against your feet to get yourself off,” he mocks you, laughing cruelly even as he thrusts his hips up, forcing more of his dick down your throat where it belonged and hearing you choke. “Up off your heels, little fucktoy. I told you that you don’t come until I say so.”

Whimpering around his thick cock you force yourself to stand up on your knees, your thighs still clenched tightly together as you desperately try to get some friction on your clit. Your pace becomes even more frantic, your head bobbing faster as you sloppily try to swallow him whole.

“Such a dirty girl, wanting to come just from having a big cock in your mouth,” he smirks, slapping your cheek lightly with a hand as you drool and moan around his heavy length. Your only reaction is to stare up at him with big, pleading eyes as you continue giving him the best head of his life, and fuck if he isn’t getting close.

“I’ll let you come, pretty girl,” he pants heavily, taking in your hopeful gaze. “But only while you’re taking my load down your throat,” he adds, smirking down at your crestfallen expression, clearly not thinking you were able to do such a thing. He’s happy to prove you wrong.

“Don’t give me that look. I know what you’re capable of.”

Cash releases his grip on your hair to trail his hand down to your neck, squeezing gently. He swears he can feel the head of his cock through your delicate little throat, and the realization has him coming hard in your mouth with a roar of your name. Faintly, he recognizes your muffled scream around him, your body twitching spasmodically as you orgasm from nothing but his cock and cum on your tongue.

Let’s see McCain try to top that.

Reader’s POV:

You think you black out for a minute or so, feeling dirty and satisfied in ways that you didn’t even know were possible as you come to, panting heavily.

Gradually coming out of your orgasm-induced haze, you start to wonder how the hell things got to this point. You had never been someone to sleep around, but in the last twelve hours you’d had sex with two different men!

Oh, but it’s been the best twelve hours of your life.

It’s certainly been the best sex of your life, the pair of them again acting as two sides of the same coin. Terry treated you like a queen and something to be cherished and protected; Cash is the opposite, though there’s a strange devotion to the way he’s degrading you as well. You wouldn’t be able to decide which you preferred if you had to, and find yourself wishing – not for the first time – that they could somehow just merge into one person.

“Strip for me,” Cash commands in his husky, dominant voice, cutting through your convoluted thoughts, and you blink as a degree of rationality returns to you. When you don’t respond Cash forcibly reaches down to turn your head to face him, taking in the lucidity in your eyes with a slightly exasperated expression.

“Oh, I see your brain is back to thinking about more than worshipping my cock,” he says, clucking his tongue at you. “That’s a shame, but I think we can get you there again pretty quickly…”

“Fuck off, Cash,” you hiss at him dismissively, backing away as he stands and approaches you, but he grabs you by the upper arm quicker than you can blink.

“Oh,” he breathes, his voice low and dangerous. “So you want it like that now, do you?” he asks, and you’re ashamed of the tendrils of desire that course through you. This time you’re conscious of the lusty disorientation as it starts to cloud your mind again, but you’re still utterly unable to resist it. Screw the consequences; you’re assuredly going to hell anyway.

“Bite me, you son of a bitch,” you sneer, and he levels you with a wicked smile.

“With pleasure.”

He tangles his free hand in your hair, grabbing a fistful right at the roots and gripping it tightly, keeping your head tilted up to face him. Slowly, he trails his other hand down your arm, keeping his gaze locked with yours as he moves his fingers to the button on your jeans, undoing it and the zipper without a word. You’re both breathing heavily, your bare chests brushing against one another as they expand, each of you waiting to see if the other will move first.

“Last chance to be a good girl,” he offers. “Strip for me.”

You honestly try to obey him, but your body doesn’t seem to be responding to your brain, and it seems that Cash’s patience has run out. Snarling at you, he drags you back to the couch, pushing you onto it so that you’re on your knees, your front pressed against the back of the couch.

In one fluid motion he tears your pants and underwear off your body, the force it tugging your legs out from under you with a yelp. You feel him get onto the couch next to you, one hand on your back keeping you pinned against the couch while he unceremoniously brings the other down to spank you hard.

You shriek in pain and surprise, but he doesn’t let up, giving you several more in quick succession until you’re a squirming, crying mess.

“You know how I know you need this?” he asks you casually, stroking the small of your back while your top half hangs over the back of the couch, giving you what you suspect is a brief break. You’re physically unable to reply through your choked sobs, so he continues. “You can curse at me and spit and pretend to try to fight me off all you want, but not once does a single ‘stop’ or ‘no’ escape those lips.”

You writhe against the couch, uncomfortable with just how much Cash is able to see in you, sometimes seeing parts you didn’t even realize were there. Because he had been right about everything: why you jumped to conclusions last night, why you're mouthing off to him today, what you need from him sexually... He knew it all.

“I was pretty sure of it the day we met, when you got all mouthy and smug with me. I could see it in your eyes, your need to be taken and used. Granted, I didn’t know you were quite this much of a needy little whore, but I guess that’s why they call them surprises.”

“I am not!” you protest angrily, trying to straighten up and face him, but another firm swat to your butt has you dangling over the back of the couch, compliant once more.

“You’re not a whore?” he asks incredulously before letting out a cruel laugh that sends a shiver down your spine. “What else would you call fucking two different men within the span of half a day? And men with such a complicated history with one another, too,” he laments, getting cocky now, and you can’t understand why you don’t hate him right now. “Oh, if only Terry could see you now, huh?”

“Don’t,” you snarl at him, the guilt and humiliation threatening to overwhelm you and somehow only adding to your arousal.

“Still forgetting who’s really in charge here, huh? I’m more than happy to give you a reminder,” he says cheekily, delivering another series of slaps to your reddening ass.

“Cash, please!” you beg him, though at this point you aren’t even sure what you’re asking for. He calmly pulls you upright, his eyes thoroughly drinking in your dishevelled appearance with a great deal of satisfaction. Gently, he takes the side of your face in one hand, and against any and all logic or reason you feel yourself relaxing into it.

“What would Mr. McCain think of his own partner, sloppy and sobbing and begging me for more?” he chides you softly, gripping your chin tightly and forcing you to look at him. “And probably with his cum still inside your needy pussy!” he laughs harshly, shoving you to the side of the couch. You barely catch yourself on your hands and knees, just wanting it to be over, just wanting it to never stop.

“Disobedience clearly becomes you,” he murmurs darkly from behind you, and you feel his tongue licking at your sopping entrance. You keen, trying to get away from the stimulation, but he pulls you back, kneeling on your feet so that you can’t pull them out from beneath him. One arm snakes underneath you, pressing against your abdomen as he keeps your hips up for him, and you feel the fingers of his other hand spreading you open to his lecherous gaze. You bury your face in the cushions, preferring to suffocate over letting him hear the depraved sounds escaping you.

“Neediest little cunt I’ve ever seen,” he growls quietly, your thighs flexing as you feel his breath so close to your centre. You thrust your hips backward wantonly and he laughs mockingly before giving into your silent pleas, eating you out until your head is spinning from the lack of oxygen, your voice hoarse from screaming.

“Next time we do this you should bring your cuffs,” he pants in your ear as he presses himself against your back, two fingers now fucking you hard and deep.

“What makes you think there’s going to be a next time?” you sneer defiantly, even as you raise your voice to be heard over the obscene sounds of his fingers pumping into your pussy. You can't seem to help yourself, needing to push back so that he'll go even further, giving you just what you need and forcing you to take it.

“Because now you know I’m the only one who can give this to you,” he hisses, and you shudder, knowing he’s right.

Cash withdraws his fingers, pulling himself off of you reluctantly. “Spread yourself open for me, beautiful” he instructs, in his sexy, husky voice, and you’re helpless to do anything but obey, reaching back to pull your cheeks apart, displaying yourself for him.

“Good girl,” he coos, laying a gentle kiss on top of one of his red handprints on your ass before diving back in with his tongue. You start to lose yourself in the moment before you feel a finger still slick with your juices teasing the puckered entrance of your ass, the unfamiliar sensation sending a fresh hot wave of shame and arousal coursing through you and making you moan.

“Yeah, you were made to be fucked senseless, weren’t you? Every hole perfect and tight and meant to be used,” Cash chuckles at your response, continuing his insistent probing as he lays lewd kisses across your slick upper thighs. “You know I’ll give that to you, baby,” he murmurs, his lips sending vibrations dancing across your sensitive skin.

“I’ll give my pretty little fucktoy anything she wants, so long as she asks for it,” he reminds you in a singsong voice, and you can feel him smirk against your inner thigh as he torments you. You debate trying to snap his neck with your legs, but that would mean he wouldn’t be able to finish what he started.

You whimper, trying to hold onto your remaining sanity long enough to voice one of your most taboo fantasies. Cash continues on his quest of trying to kill you purely by overwhelming your senses, his tongue tracing a path up your spine as he lays his body overtop of yours again.

“You can do it,” he murmurs encouragingly in your ear, his hands trailing up your sides possessively and making you shudder. “Say it, Y/N.”

“I – I want,” you stammer, trying and failing to push the words past your lips in your delirium and shame, and Cash decides to try another tactic, flipping you onto your back and looking down at you almost tenderly with his stormy blue eyes.

“I know what you want,” he coos, leaning down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss that stands completely at odds with his rough treatment of you yet somehow makes such utter sense that you find yourself unable to question it. “I already know, remember? I know you, Y/N. All you have to do is say it, and I’ll give it to you.”

He dips his head lower, his lips and tongue claiming every inch of skin from your neck to the undersides of your breasts, coaxing you into confessing for him.

“Play with my ass while you fuck me!” you groan, your eyes scrunched shut so that you don’t have to face his reaction. Fortunately for you, you can still feel it, his cock prodding your leg insistently as he rises to full hardness again.

“There’s my good girl,” he gloats, kissing you again until you forget your shame again. If anyone could personify the act of making a deal with the devil, it was Cash Ewing.

“Roll over,” he commands, and you obey, eager for an excuse to hide your blush from him. “Hips up. Arch your back more, yeah, just like that,” he praises, easily thrusting two fingers into you again so that he can tease the tight ring of muscle with your slick juices, lubing you up. “You’re gonna take my finger before I let you take my cock, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, fuck, yes!” you chant, rocking your hips towards him impatiently. The tip of his finger probes your puckered hole and you whine at the intense, unfamiliar feeling.

“You’ve got to relax for me, little lady,” he teases, reaching around with his free hand to toy with your clit. “How am I ever going to get this ass to take a pounding from my cock one day if you can’t handle one finger?”

You moan, lost in fantasies of him taking you and using you in any and every way, and you manage to relax enough to let him slip his finger in up to the second knuckle.

“So fucking tight,” he groans through gritted teeth, slowly pumping his finger in and out, fucking into you at different angles to help you get used to the sensation. “Looks like all of your holes are desperate for me, my little slut.”

“Yours, Cash!” you moan shamelessly. “More, please!”

“You want more?” he taunts, guiding his cock to your dripping entrance. You wail incoherently in response, grinding back up against him. All you want in this moment is to be given more than you can take; you need to come apart at the seams for him.

“Christ, you look so good like this,” he snarls as he enters you in one dirty thrust of his hips, immediately setting a hot and heavy pace that has you burying your face in the couch cushions to muffle your shrieks. “Marked and sore and mine, begging me to fill you up!”

His cock stretches you out deliciously, and you’re grateful for how obscenely wet you are, because he’s not being gentle with you as he claims you inside and out. The friction of his finger in tandem with his cock nearly has you sobbing again as he ruts into you. It’s filthy, it’s degrading, and it’s exactly what you deserve, bringing you over the edge fast and hard and making you scream his name like it’s the only word you know.

“Look at you, coming so fast from getting fucked in two holes at once,” he growls, not letting up on his aggressive pace. “I told you that you were a little whore.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as he continues to use you, any thoughts beyond taking him into your body impossibly out of reach.

“Beg for it,” he grunts, giving your ass a break from its new exercise so that he can grip your hips tightly with both hands, holding you upright as he pumps you even faster onto his cock. “Beg for my cum!”

The only indication you have that you’re obeying him is your throat getting progressively more sore as you scream yourself hoarse, your body on autopilot and your mind blank, but you feel him pumping you full as he comes with a roar of your name, collapsing on top of you.

You both lay still for a minute or two, catching your breath, and you feel him climb off of you, too boneless to lift your head and check on his whereabouts.

“Get your feet off my couch,” he grumbles, mocking you from a week ago when he had first barged into your apartment. How much things had changed in so little time…

“Why?” you complain, your voice muffled through the cushions.

Cash, impulsive as always, grabs one of your ankles, yanking you off the couch and onto the floor, where he’s laid a blanket out over the carpet.

“Couch is too small to sleep together,” he mumbles, pulling you over to him.

“Ah yes, I suppose an animal like you wouldn’t sleep on a bed.”

He snorts dismissively, pinning you to the floor with his heavy, sleepy frame as revenge. “Upstairs is too far.”

You roll your eyes, not that he can see it, and try to make your escape, but you can’t get so much as a limb out from under him. Cash clearly feels you squirming, but makes no move to accommodate you. Overgrown prick.

“Ready to admit it yet?” he asks innocently, as though he wasn’t slowly crushing you to death.

“Admit what?” you ask, grumbling from beneath him.

“That you want me just as much as you do him,” he states, as though it were obvious. He rolls the two of you over, propping you up on top of him, and you wonder if it even occurred to him how much heavier he was than you.

“Shut up, Cash. It’s not a competition,” you say instead.

“Certainly can’t be a close one after that,” he counters smugly.

“What happened to your priority being Terry, huh?” you ask, throwing his words back in his face, as he had done to you.

“Well, my relationship with him was slightly different than this,” he jokes, busy rearranging you both the way he wants. You’re too exhausted and trembly to do more than let out a weak groan of protest. “Now, tell me what I want to hear or I’ll have to rally for round three.”

He sounds just as spent as you do, but you still take the threat seriously. There was no way you could handle anything remotely close to what you had just experienced again.

“I want you too, Cash,” you concede tiredly, moaning appreciatively at the blanket he throws across the two of you. Cash’s strong arms wrap themselves around you possessively, tugging you close to him.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he grumbles sleepily in your ear, though you can hear his smile in his voice.

“No,” you agree, the heat of his body against yours quickly lulling you deeper into drowsiness. “I guess the hard part comes next.”

A clocktower in the distance rings three times, but you’re both too deeply asleep to hear it.

[The fact that there is no sufficiently sexy Cash gif to put here fills me with rage; the producers of the film should be held accountable! In the meantime... what that tongue do?]

---

Hopefully that was enjoyably intense for you! There won't be any smut in the next two chapters, but then... then there's the epilogue, where they it all come comes together! ;D

Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

---

Master List Here

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[lookinghalfacorpse]

ttdtn extra scene 1 (?)

honestly surprised that i haven’t written any extra scenes for ‘the trees deny themselves nothing’ yet! everything has just kinda fit inside the main fic. 

i’ll be honest, idk if this will be an extra scene or if it will be part of the sequel.  so, if it’s part of the sequel, then enjoy the preview i guess!

read the full fic on ao3 here, info and trigger warnings here 

Chex was the biggest ram in the barn.  Being a big ram didn’t mean much; he had a lot of respect among his fellow sheep, sure, but he still felt small alongside the horses next door, the mules they could see from their field, and even the goats across from them.  He had a solid set of horns upon his head, sure, but he couldn’t hope to reach much further than a human’s lower thigh (or a piglin’s upper calf).  But, neither the horses, the mules, nor the goats could reach him from within their enclosures, so Chex confidently trekked across the stall and bumped his dark snout against the feeders, wondering why they were still empty at this hour of the morning.

Philza was still in bed.

Technoblade was worried.  Upon waking, he liked to play a game where he guessed what breakfast was based on just the smell.  He was very good at it– sometimes he’d walk into the kitchen with his eyes closed, listing off the ingredients he recognized and the way he thought they combined, while Phil chuckled at him.  But there was no breakfast that morning; not for Chex or for Technoblade.  Philza was still in bed.

“Phil?”  Techno pushed a knuckle against the slightly open, wooden door.  Since Dream has been staying with them, Phil kept the door ajar in case he was needed throughout the night.  But Dream wasn’t there anymore, and Philza was still in bed.

“Eh?  Phiiiiil?”  

Phil was lying comfortably on his side, hands placed gently on the mattress beside him, wings gently folded.  Poised and beautiful, even in his sleep.  Placing a knee on the bed, Techno’s weight indented into the fabric and dipped it, jostling his partner’s body.

“Philza…”

“Mornin’,” came Phil’s drowsy answer.  His voice was a bit odd.  Heavy with slumber, yet brittle.

“Mornin’.”  Techno laid more of his body on the bed, reaching an arm across Phil so he could brace an arm against the other side of the mattress.  He knew from experience that if he put too much weight on Phil, he’d hurt him, so he was careful about where he placed his limbs.  It was difficult when he was bigger than the bedframe.  “You’re still in bed.”

Phil stretched, pulling his body into a straight line, from his spine to his feet.  Techno felt him shuffle, the fabric of his robe and blanket bunching up.  “Nothing gets past you, hah?”

“Never.  I’m brilliant and observant.”  When Phil settled back into position, making no real effort to get out of bed, Techno nuzzled his head into Phil’s shoulder.  “Chex is gonna be mad at you.”

“Mm.”

“And Saffron.  And the chickens.”  

"Mm-hm."

"And there's a big pig who, uh, is a bit worried about ya."

A smirk made an indent on the side of Phil's cheek.  "Donna?"

Donna was one of their heavier pigs.  Techno grinned as he answered, "Yeah.  Donna.  Totally."

"Well, I'd hate to make her worry.  But my head hurts like a motherfucker," Phil replied, solemn and musing, "and I'm finding that I'm not all that helpful these days, anyway."

Techno worried that it was about this.  A few days ago, Dream stormed off into the forest, limping with his wooden prosthetic, and they haven't heard a peep from him since.  Not even a letter.  Techno knew his old roommate well, and he knew that Dream's shame was often misplaced.  He assumed that the kid must be embarrassed or afraid of being a burden.  Philza assumed he must be angry, which is an easy assumption to make when you’re also angry with yourself.

Techno rubbed the flat plateau of his forehead and snout on Phil's shoulder.  "You were helpful." Techno responded in a low tone, "Not your fault certain people had ulterior motives."

Phil sighed as he rolled over, pressing his back against the mattress.  He adjusted himself so he could meet Techno’s forehead with his own.  “I should’ve known better.”

“He should’ve known better.  I’m almost done fixin’ up your armor, you know.”

Phil hummed, satisfied, and let himself sit still under Techno’s warmth.  Techno let his eyes fall shut, and they burned behind his eyelids.  In truth, he didn’t sleep too well, either.

“Painkillers for your headache?” Techno offered.

“Please, mate.”

-----------

Dream was still in bed.  He didn’t know why.

It wasn’t his bed.  Not the bed he set up in the prison, which was a little bit too soft and made his hips ache in the morning (He wondered, sometimes, if there was something wrong with his hips.  What are the chances he’d broken something?).  Not the guest bed in the arctic, where he’d spend the night under a pile of dogs (He felt cold without them).  

He was in Sam’s bed.

He didn’t remember how it started.  They were arguing– no, debating– and then it turned into an argument when Sam raised his voice.  The logic made no sense, and it was moving too quickly, as things usually go with the Warden.  Dream knew this type of conversation well, and he thought he was good at navigating them and taking advantage of obvious inconsistencies.  But Sam said something that really pissed him off (He didn’t remember what), and Dream pushed him back, and then somehow they were even closer.  Dream was scared, and he was angry, and he was betrayed.  It felt better when they were kissing.

He woke with a burning pain at the amputation site.

He tried to ignore it and go back to sleep.  Sleep was a favorite pain reliever these days, especially when he felt lethargic and heavy enough that he was able to ignore his body in favor of rest.  But today, the pain gripped his lungs and made his teeth grind together, the muscles of his back contracting as he curled in on himself.

Sam seemed to manifest from nowhere.  Pain made Dream’s mind fuzzy, which he hated, and he often missed important details such as when someone entered or exited a room.  Perhaps Sam spent all night beside him, or perhaps he just walked in from the kitchen.  Either way, he towered over Dream, eyes scanning along his body the same way he might look at a machine that wasn’t working.  Dream was used to it.

Wordlessly, Sam took the blanket off of him.

It wasn’t an aggressive movement– in fact, it was actually rather slow and unrushed, but it was authoritative enough to convey a typical agreement of their relationship: “I will look at you now.”  Sam took the stump of Dream’s leg in one of his palms and lifted it slightly.  The incisions he made a while back were now pinkish scars, blending in well with all the other scars that littered the area.  It was an ugly limb, Dream thought.  But it wasn’t any uglier that morning than it was any morning before– no extra swelling, no leakage, and no redness.

“Does it hurt often?” Sam asked him.

“Yes,” Dream replied stiffly.

Sam’s expression didn’t change.  Dream wondered for a moment if he didn’t hear him, or if his own voice was too hoarse to be audible.

Quietly, Sam raised the leg up even further, and Dream whimpered from the strain.  He barely even felt as Sam pressed his lips, softly, against the scarred skin.

“I have potions,” Sam stated.

“Don’t,” came Dream’s stern reply.

[jillsandwhichs]

Cleon - Oneshots/AUs Fanfiction , Chap 2 , Being a good girlfriend

Masterlist

Pairing: Claire Redfield & Leon Kennedy

Summary: Claire drops of Leons lunch to him at work

Status of their relationship in this oneshot: Dating

WC: 2.6k

Type: Sfw

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Thank you

Claire was standing on the white, decorated balcony, her fit arms resting on the railing as she sipped her sweet jasmine tea. Gazing off into the distance, and listening in on the sounds of nature, Claire felt at peace. Seeing the birds fly on by, along with their adorable chirping noises. Even hearing the cars in the distance go by at a rapid pace. It all felt so lively.

The sky seemed gloomy today, full of clouds with a grey, dark tint to it, it wouldn't be a stretch to assume rainfall was on it's way. The contrast from the breezy cool air to the emitting heat radiating off of Claire's mug, due to the tea, was relaxing as well.

It wasn't very often Claire was able to enjoy the little things in life. Her entire life was based around Terrasave and everything that comes with it, but being able to take time off for herself was important, and she knew that. Claire is very into self-care and the benefits that it provides.

A clearer mindset, a better headspace, positive attitudes and all the goodies it comes with, and right now, Claire felt calm, content and overall, just happy. It wasn't just due to commiting to self-care, it was also the people in her life.

Sherry, Chris, Jill, and everyone else, they all meant so near and dear to her, it's a shame it has been so long since she last seen them, especially her brother, Chris, he's always off doing his own thing with the BSAA, he never has time to spend with Claire or anybody for that matter.

But best of all, Claire's most favorite person, is her boyfriend, Leon. He was one of her main sources of motivation. He provided her that stride she needed to accomplish each goal that came day by day. He was her reason to wake up and get out of bed each day. Leon is and always will be her everything.

The mere thought of Leon made Claire feel elated.

Turning around, and sliding open the screen door that lead back into the apartment, Claire wandered back inside, sipping the last few drops of her tea before carefully placing the mug into the empty sink, water droplets still visible on the sides and bottom of the sink from when Claire did the dishes earlier that morning.

The apartment was silent, minus the distant sound of the fan in Leon's bedroom and the small drips of water occasionally hitting into the sink. Claire doesn't like silence, she doesn't feel safe when it's this quiet.

Grabbing the TV remote, Claire turned it on and began to scroll through channels before landing on some random reality show, she turned the audio up and tossed the remote to the couch, walking into the kitchen again.

Candle light emitted from the kitchen, the scent was 'Mahogany Wood', one of Leon and Claire's favorites, they always had it lit. Inhaling the nature-like smell, Claire walked towards the candle and picked it up, the heat instantly burning her soft-touched finger tips.

"Fuck... I'm stupid." Claire sighed to herself, shaking her hand, as if to shake away the sting.

Ambling to the refrigerator, Claire opened it and began to eye down the produce and protein within it, wanting to make herself a quick and easy lunch. She contemplated making avocado toast, or maybe even oatmeal, but she was never to sure and besides, she's indecisive.

Whilst looking though, Claire realized something. Leon had forgotten his lunch, and his break was soon. The man didn't even eat his breakfast, so he's bound to be starving. "Why are you so forgetful." Claire giggled to herself, grabbing the tub from the fridge and placing it on the counter.

Leon packs his own lunches, and in his, he put a sandwich, an apple and for some reason, doritos, he was so random. "None of this is really even healthy, why do men just toss things in a container and call it a meal?" Claire groaned aloud, tossing the doritos to the side, along with the sandwich, but left the apple in there, she wouldn't completely ruin his 'masterpiece' of a lunch.

Turning around from the island counter, Claire re-opened the fridge and grabbed out some strawberries and a banana, putting them on the counter. She then strolled over to the sink and grabbed a knife from the strainer. Claire made the decision to cut up some strawberries and bananas for his side dish, along with making him a much more healthy sided sandwich.

Placing the banana onto the chopping board, Claire began to fully cut the fruit into thin slices, once she finished off the banana, she dropped the fruit into a container. Cutting the strawberries next, she threw the leafy tops off into the trash bin and made sure they were pristine without any bugs or dirt.

After she finished up with the side, she grabbed out some turkey slices and whole wheat bread, and made a quick sandwich, but it was made with love, of course. Leon always preferred turkey over ham, so Claire is happy she remembered that minute thing about him, maybe it was important after all.

"There, he'll like that." Claire mumbled to herself, pulling her flip phone out and shooting Leon a message, letting him know she'll be on her way to drop off his lunch.

"Hi! I seen you left your lunch here at home so I'm gonna come by and drop it off, okay? Love you!" Claire messaged, sending it after typing it out. It took a moderate amount of time to do so though because of how texting works through a flip phone.

Grabbing the tupperware, Claire shoved it into her red leather purse, clipping the bag shut. Whilst walking towards the door, Claire turned off the smart TV. She then opened the black door, locking it behind her. The apartment complexes hallway was compact, multiple doors on each side of it. It is the most pricy complex in the city so it makes sense it's so packed full, but Claire didn't mind, wherever Leon goes, she goes.

The elevator doors slid open and Claire stepped in, standing beside a man who was in a black and white suit. The apartment complex was full of business men like himself, it's part of the reason Leon lived here, it was near his work, and it's near a few multi millionaire companies. Although, the D.S.O is most likely worth the most, hell, you're working for the President of all people!

The elevator dinged as the doors opened up completely, Claire convoying out of them and heading out of the building and to her car. Claire spotted her small, grey car, it was parked on the side of the road, beside the crowd filled sidewalk. The neighborhood felt safe enough to leave it there, little to no crimes happened around here.

Claire clicked her keys, her car beeping then unlocking. Leon actually helped Claire pay for her car, since she can't get everywhere with just a motorcycle, although she wishes she could. Plopping down in the driver's seat, Claire put her purse down in the passenger seat, making sure it was tucked in enough to not fall off onto the floor of the vehicle.

Sticking her key into the ignition, the girl started her car up, heaving out as she heard it start up so cleanly. Her motorcycles were a lot louder, and much more sketchy to start up due to how old they were, she fears someday they'll stop running and she'll have to buy, or make a whole new one. Claire has somewhat built her own motorcycle, it's more complex than that though.

Once Claire was officially on the road, she turned the radio up, the song 'There she goes' by the La's began to play, it was one of Claire's favorite songs. Her brother, Chris, introduced it to her, he had impeccable taste in music.

He was also the reasoning behind Claire learning about the band, Queen, her and Chris have matching Queen jackets. In a series of unfortunate events, Chris did lose his. Claire still has both of hers though, she wears them on occasion.

Whilst driving, droplets of rain began to fall, hitting the windshield at a rapid pace. "I knew it'd rain." Claire muttered to herself, firmly tightening her grip on the steering wheel. Leon's place of work wasn't to far from the apartment, it was about ten minutes away, but with this traffic, it could take even twenty.

It looked earthy out. The dark green grass, fresh cool wind, and the misty air all came together and the rain blended in perfectly. Fall time was the best time, it was Claire and Leon's favorite. Leon had actually asked Claire to date him last fall, their one year anniversary was right around the corner. The girl had pondered on what they'd do for the special day.

Hearing a ringtone sound coming from her phone, Claire shot her head towards the passenger seat and began to dig her hand through her purse, needing to fetch it out in order to see whether it was Leon or not. She knows it's illegal and highly unsafe to use a phone while driving but in this case, Claire was willing to break the law for him.

Stopping at a red light, Claire opened her phone up and gave a content look at her phone when she seen the message, it read, "I hadn't even realized, thank you, my sweet girl. Love you too." Leon was the best. Claire closed her phone and tossed it back into her purse, gandering back up at the road.

-

Officially, Claire reached Leon's workplace, and parked her car in front of the building. The establishment had high security but Claire's already visited Leon at work countless times, so the more she visits, the less precautions the security tends to take.

"I'm here! Where are you? Come out to my car." Claire messaged Leon. Whenever she'd visit him on his lunch break, they would just sit in her car and chit-chat, it was the only way they could spend time together when he's working.

She pulled out his food from her purse and set it up on the dashboard, waiting to see him walk out of the double doors that lead to the exit. She had hoped he'd enjoy what she packed for him, deep down, she knows he will but even so, it's not what he had packed.

Claire still had the radio up, the song now playing was called 'Coney Island Baby', which is a pretty old song, but it's a goodie. Claire is a musical enthusiast, she wants to learn guitar someday just like her brother. Although, he can't play any other instrument, he can't read music...

As she was in her head, she didn't realize Leon had walked out until she heard a knocking sound on the passenger side window, turning her head, she seen Leon, a slight smile on his face. "Unlock the door." Leon spoke, his voice muffled due to him being outside.

Chortling, Claire hit the unlock button on her door and let Leon climb into the car. His hair and outfit was somewhat damp from the down pouring rain. "Hey." Leon whispered. "Hi." Claire smiled, leaning in to kiss him. Leon brushed his veiny hand against her cheek, giving her a quick smooch before pulling away. "Thank you for bringing me my lunch." "I'm not gonna let my boyfriend go hungry at work." Claire retorted.

"You're a good girlfriend." "I know." The girl snorted. Leon grabbed the plastic, clear container and placed it on the center console, unclipping it and seeing what was inside. "This isn't what I packed." He stated, confusion in his tone. "Yeah, sweetie, I hope you don't mind, your lunch was uh... Something else." She teased.

The man looked up with a smirk, "Thank you." Leon chuckled, kissing his cheek briskly before taking a bite of the turkey sandwich.

They sat in silence for a couple minutes as Leon ate, but Claire didn't mind, she was happy he was eating. The man needed to fuel his body, especially considering his line of work. "Is it good?" Claire questioned. "Very much so." Leon responded. "Good, good." Claire said, whilst rubbing his tense shoulder with her delicate hand.

The way Claire showed her affection was through actions and physical touch. It kind of all adds up. She brought him a lunch, her action, she's being physical with him, physical affection. Leon definitely shows his through words and physical affection. They're both very into physical touch, especially Leon.

"Looking back on it, packing dortitos and a sandwich like that wasn't even a lunch, thank you for this, sweetheart." Leon spoke, enamore in his voice. "You're welcome, Leon." Claire replied, drawing her head towards him and pushing her lips upon his, the passion between the two was noticeable. Leon breathed deeply as he pulled away, gazing into Claire's divine eyes.

"So, for dinner tonight, what would you like?" Leon asked. "I can swing by somewhere after work. Whatever you want, I'll get." He spoke again. Claire sat in thought for a second, before her lips curled into a small smile. "Chinese food... More specifically, orange chicken and lo mein!" She giggled. Chinese food was one of her favorites. "Your wish is my command." Leon laughed, finishing off his last strawberry.

Taking a strawberry between her fingertips, Claire put it up to Leon, trying to hold back her snickering. Leon smirked and bit the strawberry, maintaining eye contact with the woman just in front of him as he did so. "You're cute." Claire spoke with an honest tone. "Says you." Leon retorted, causing Claire to roll her eyes.

Leon placed his hand on Claire's before speaking, "I have to get back to work." The man sighed, clearly dreading that factor. "I know." The girl expired, leaning her head onto the head rest of the driver's seat, staring into Leon's eyes. "I'll see you soon, ok?" He added, brushing some of her brunette hair behind her adorable ear. "See you sweetie." Claire mumbled.

"Don't be such a downer." Leon whispering, giving her one last final peck on her forehead before opening the door and stepping out, the rain had let up a bit. "I love you." He spoke. "Love you." She replied.

Claire studied Leon as he strided off, heading back into the building. Claire missed him already.

Divider Creds: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[autistickremylecroux]

Could I pls request a zora x reader eenmeies two loves :d

zor/reder work at ocena bliz and both try 2 bet teh othe with boutny, butt 1 da read gets rlly inryed,zora rlly worry and confesion

(sossy for spelign itz lik 3 amnr)

Bounty battle-Zora x gn!reader

Hi! Sorry for the week wait, my school has caught up to me quite badly. And dont worry about the spelling. I really enjoyed writing this ! it was a lot of fun

WC:1559

Warnings:Blood, surgery, mentions of needles.

“Howdy [name]~” you cursed internally, turning your head to glare at the women behind you. The same face which matched the top bounty. 110,000. Hardly even above yours. Zora laughed at your glare, a loud sharp chuckle. “Not too happy I see? shame you just can’t seem to—“ she stepped forward, getting a bit closer into your personal space, her voice dropping to mock condescension “—keep up” she pulled back, twirling her pistols, before firing a bullet which grazed past your ear.

You forced back an annoyed scowl, she always knew how to get on your nerves. And you were sure she was doing it on purpose to annoy you. To mess up your ‘game’. You forced yourself to sigh, before smirking. “Oh i can keep up, not too sure you’ll be able to though.” You watched as she paused, turning around and raising an eyebrow.

“challenge accepted.” She whistled, before disappearing off into the surrounding woods. Leaving you standing there, you turned back to the board. Staring at your poster , which had a bullet in line with your forehead. Your scowl returned, and you ripped the poster off of the wall and put it in your pocket. Before taking a marker out and reaching up to Zora’s poster.

[timeskip]

You walked past the same bounty board, turning to look at it. Your bounty was now at 120,000. Zora’s hadn’t changed. It was a bit of a disappointing jump after your latest job. It had been risky. Although, after the 100,000 mark it was noticeably more difficult to climb the ranks. You were willing to take the risk. You couldn’t let Zora out perform you.

You snatched the posters down, taking Zora’s as a motivation of sorts. You know , to motivate you to do better. Not any other reasons. You were planning to hand them to Zora as a taunt. Not because you knew Zora liked to keep and collect them as ‘achievements’. You continued back to your base, planning out more ways to ‘annoy’ Zora. You knew exactly what to do. There was a Banzai blaster base nearby, and you had one hell of a heist planned.

[timeskip]

leaves and twigs crushed under your feet, your limbs were heavy and you were losing blood. But you needed to keep going. You needed to reach them, the heist had gone horribly. Some of the Vice Presidents or whatever had been there, and you hadn’t expected them to be there. And by the time you had realised, you had been shot, it didn't do much but it had caused you to slip, falling backwards out of the window. It wasn’t a big fall, since it was only a first ground window. But the glass had hit your side rather seriously, and it had started bleeding.

You trudged through the forest, before you spotted a familiar figure, you couldn’t make it all out as your vision had begun to blur, you focused on getting one foot in front of the other. You managed to push yourself through the brambles, being closer to the figure you knew was Zora.

You watched as she temporarily stopped threatening the other one, all you could tell was they looked like a yellow blob. Probably a Banzai Blaster, but you couldn't tell as your vision got worse. The last thing you could see was Zora, suddenly start running towards you, yelling out something you couldn't make out. Before you promptly faceplanted into the forest floor.

Zora cursed, scooping your unconscious body into her arms, she turned to the Banzai Blaster she was trying to get. Before starting to run towards the nearest Bliss Ocean outpost. Leaving the Blaster confused on the floor.

She stopped after a bit,realising you were losing too much blood, temporarily setting you down and ripping off part of her beloved poncho— if it was to keep you alive it was worth it. And tied it around your waist tightly, desperately cursing under her breath as the adrenaline kept her going. She picked you up, and dashed off again. “you better stay above snakes [name] “

She eventually made it to the base, bursting open the door with her foot, everyone there instinctively shuffled out of the way, Zora when angry was something. And when it had to do with you? Twice as much. Everyone seemed to know except you how much she liked you, mostly due to some things she admitted while drunk. Or because of the glares she sent anyone trying to flirt with you.

At this point, even Naven had taken notice of it. Which said a lot. As sweet as he was, he could be a bit oblivious at times.

None of this mattered, as you were almost dying. Blood gushing from your arms, legs and waist, some was coming from your head too, which left your hair damp and sticky. She shook the thoughts from her head as she ran into the medical bay, practically yelling at the nurse. “OI! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE—“ she yelled,setting you down at the bed.

The healer rushed over, they were one of the few people in the organisation who had an epithet, mostly because it was useful having someone with a healing epithet. They started examining you, clearly worried. “what happened?” they said, grabbing some damp cloths to start applying it to the wounds.

“i dont fucking know i wasnt there for fuck sakes” she snapped, pacing back and forth. Before stopping and looking at you, “are they going to be okay?” she whispered , her voice becoming a lot quieter. Almost scared. Which was a first.

“yes but they’ll need emergency surgery— if you could wait outside it would be good” they said, tensing as they hoped Zora wouldn’t flip out. Seemingly their prayers were answered. As she silently left and slammed the door behind her.

Zora paced around for the next six hours outside the medical bay. She didn’t get anything to eat or drink,just waited and waited. When she heard the door open, she snapped her head around. “[name] will wake up in about an hour,they’ll need to rest for a bit”

Zora sighs in relief, practically pushing the medic out of the way to get into the room. She sat beside you,your arms, legs and waist were covered in bandages and yet you looked peaceful. There were needles in your arm, most likely giving you some nutrients to makeup for the lost blood.

She stayed silent for about half an hour, before softly grabbing your hand. There was so much she wanted to tell you, whether it was to yell and cry about how reckless you had been. Once she figured out what had happened of course. But she also wanted to wait and tell you everything would be ok.

As the clock ticked on, she started speaking. “you better wake up you coot” she snapped, while subconsciously rubbing the back of your hand. “I'll kill ya if ya dont” she adds, watching as you shuffled around but stayed asleep.

You felt yourself come to your senses,but you didn’t want to get up, you heard the voice. But kept silent, you knew who it was. But she was acting differently than usual. And you wanted to hear what she would say.

“you’re a right idiot. “ you heard her say, her accent making her clip some of the vowel sounds out slightly. “ya got y’rself hurt just to one up me” she laughed, and you wanted to bottle the sound and get drunk on it every night. But you still kept quiet. You wanted to see what she’d say.

“i’m not sure why I even bother to love ya.” your heart felt like it stopped as you heard her say those words, and you visibly tensed. Which she noticed clearly. “…” she stared at you, and you could feel her gaze even if you couldn’t see. “ [name] ?” you opened your eyes slowly, turning your head to look at her, your vision still wasn’t the best. And the light was bright enough to give you a headache “How long have you been listening” she continued, her tone dark as she seemed to be rather annoyed.

“a bit” you admit, humming. It was silent for a second, as both of you tried to think of what to say. You chuckled as you noticed her looking away. It was surprising to see the all cocky and confident Zora flustered and embarrassed. “it’s nice to know you love me” you added, mostly because your inhibition was reduced from the painkillers. “i mean, i thought it was a one…way thing” you added,your words slightly slurred as you started to close your eyes again. Falling back asleep.

People noticed Zora spending more time in the medical bay in the upcoming days. They also noticed she seemed happier than usual, and slightly less murdery. And they knew it had to do with you.

[ana-lora-rein]

𝘌𝘺𝘬𝘵𝘢𝘯 𝘛𝘴𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘺𝘭𝘶 ܟ 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 1 ܟ Broken Wings

Amateur translation. Postcanon.

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Marines don't die, they go to hell...

His ears were ringing endlessly, and his heart, pounding frantically in his chest, seemed about to burst out. The only thing that cooled off was the tailwind, which kept from passing out. If he had lowered his eyelids for even a second, in a fainting state, he would have fallen from the flying banshee straight into the rocky abyss of the soaring mountains. Miles felt warm trickles of blood rolling down his temples. He had to overcome the stabbing pain in his body to brush it away with his hand.

— Bitch... — Quoritch cursed, spitting up the clots. He gripped his fingers tightly on the collar straps of the winged beast, guiding it toward the base.

The flight wasn't long, but all the way there, Miles had only one thought: Why didn't his son stay with him? Little Spider, struggling with conflicting feelings, did not let him die: pulled from the bottom of the wreckage of the sinking shuttle, growled one last word and fled away. Maybe the kid did it out of the compassion he'd inherited from Sally? Or out of a sense of indebtedness to the one who had brought him into the world? In any case, the colonel was left confused. And in the back of his mind, two very different beginnings were struggling. They, like cats, were gnawing at him from inside, reminding him that sooner or later he would have to choose. One was demanding to turn around, to find that scoundrel Sully and take out the wretched gang for the damage they'd done, and the other was wanting to forget, to tell everyone to go to hell. His jaw clenched in irritation, and Miles clenched his teeth. He promised himself he'd figure it out. But there was no way to undo what had happened. His team, his loyal comrades-all of them dead at the hands of the blue apes. What a shame for him as commander! Poor Lyle. He wanted to go to the makeshift sauna at the bottom of the hill just outside the town. And the Reaper... She'd still be alive and well, even if she was blue in the body. Mansk had intended to ask the beastie out on a date. And though all the boys knew how foolish his idea was, he couldn't ask anyone else out.

«Scumbag Sully and his cum wife!»

A gagging interrupted Miles' thoughts. Rekom crouched on his side, spitting out blood. A stinging, biting pain squeezed under his ribs. He mentally counted the damage his enemy had done: a punctured shoulder, something like a lung wound, a concussion that made him dizzy and his eyes swim. All this he had felt once before. On Earth War, it was like déjà vu, a memory that came back to him. The pain was the same, but the motivation was different.

Hear that, Sally, how does it feel to betray your country?

The Winged Beast. Banshee. It suddenly nervously fluttered its wings, screaming as if distraught. The animal sensed everything the rider was experiencing. The colonel remembered the connection (tsaheylu). This connection seemed too strong, too obscene and too explicit. Gathering his will into a fist, Miles took a deep breath and exhaled, placing his palm against the banshee's head. He stroked the beast, tried to calm it down, because we don't need the bird to get nervous and send it into the abyss. The colonel understood that he had to get to know his new friend better, to learn the subtleties of communication.

Like a thunderclap, the wireless rattled loudly in his ear. He still had the earpiece with the microphone in his ear.

— Quaritch! Can you hear me? General Ardmore calling!

— Shit... — Miles sighed heavily, coughing and coughing up, — Yes, I'm on the line, General! The mission failed, there were too many of them! Back to base!

— Why haven't you been in contact for two hours?! What happened?! What happened to Dr. Ian Garvin?!

— Missing or dead.

— And Captain Mick Scoresby?

Miles crouched in pain and wrapped his arm around himself, trying to answer as calmly as possible. He never liked to report, especially to women, and the worst thing for him was when it was a woman who turned out to be the boss. The colonel could only respect the generaless for the first half of the day he met her before she got under his skin with arrogance and prejudice.

«Fucking bitch...»

He had to unfasten the Velcro vest and throw it off his bloody body: even the clothes squeezing his chest prevented him from speaking.

— Missing or dead, — the Colonel repeated.

— Go immediately back to the scene and find the doctor! Can you hear me?

— I hear you. — Miles's breathing quickened and his eyelids seemed too heavy.

He wanted to finish, but the shroud that fell over his eyes and the ringing in his ears plunged him into darkness. His hands slid down, and recom fell chest-to-chest on the banshee's neck, finally losing his composure and his equilibrium.

***

Laura Asadi always loved weekends. Even though the sun was beating down like never before, illuminating the city streets with its scorching rays and casting glares on the glass panoramas of the buildings, she went to the park for a long-awaited jog. Nothing could have made her happier than the mesmerizing nature of Pandora. Unless it was music on her headphones and a desire to pursue dancing, singing, photography, or maybe even writing a novel. But as much as a young soul's heart tugged at creativity, it was her profession as a therapist that allowed Laura to leave a dying planet and find herself in the most influential organization. The RDA appreciated her abilities and welcomed her into their ranks. They gave her a new life that she longed to share with her family. Happy for their daughter's fate, her parents remained on Earth. Laura could only arrange their move to Pandora by working off her first contract, and she humbly awaited that day.

The week flew by unnoticed. Every day she had to work late with patients caught up in the maelstrom of events. People couldn't find common ground with the local tribes: A prolonged war had broken out. Diversion after diversion claimed more and more victims. Few survived the battle with the Na'vi. Lora understood that they were fighting for their territories, and were not at all happy to have unexpected visitors from space. Any attempt to negotiate between the two parties to the conflict was backfiring. Too different lives, too different species, too different view of the world.

Laura admired the philosophy of the Na'vi. Before going to bed, she read books about this amazing species, their culture and everyday life. She especially liked the works of the once popular scientist Grace Augustine. Fifteen years ago this woman had managed to make contact with the Omatikaya forest clan. They even built a school for children, where Miss Augustine taught earthly lessons and shared her knowledge. But, unfortunately, her efforts were wasted. There was a conflict that remained the subject of numerous theories. Laura heard only one truth: A certain Marine Jake Sully, an Avatar member, sided with the Na'vi during the first war, gathered the clans into an army, and prevailed by expelling the humans from Pandora. This precedent has remained on everyone's lips to this day. After all, from time to time Sully would sabotage military depots and blow up cargo trains. Some considered him a collaborator, a traitor to the motherland, and some quietly admired him and wished him victory. Laura, on the other hand, always found it difficult to choose. She tried to stay out of the fuss and do her job - to heal the wounded, to save lives. After all, working off her contract to get her family back from a dying, poisoned Earth.

Gathering her long dark hair into a ponytail, Laura stepped into the thicket of the park, breathing in the scents of the local flora through the transparent oxygen mask. She liked to come here in the mornings when she got up early: she enjoyed nature, and fed the funny prolemurs with bananas before exercising. Some animals began to recognize her, came down from the trees and unceremoniously stretched out their paws in the hope of getting a treat. This time red apples were waiting for them. No sooner had the girl rustled her backpack than twigs rattled around her. On all sides there were those who wanted to eat them. They wiggled their ears, curiously waiting and looking at the guest with interest.

— Guys, not all at once, you do remember to be able to share, don't you? — Laura laughed as she handed out the apples. One of the cubs, begging for attention, climbed down from his mother and brazenly climbed onto the girl's shoulder, wrapping one pair of long paws around her and tugging at the strap of her top with the other. — Oh, is that you, buddy? I remember you, you're growing up fast...

She quickly got used to and grew to love the animals here. Her acquaintances and colleagues always wondered how these animals let her in so quickly. After all, usually prolemurs tried to stay away from people, and if they approached, it was only for a moment. Inadvertently, Laura thought she loved animals more than people, and she should have gone to the veterinary department. If it weren't for her promise to her dad and her love of the arts, she would have. Born into a family of the medical generation, she hadn't found the courage to break a long-standing tradition. Even though she felt out of place, she was one of the best in the department.

Asadi didn't have time to finish feeding the prolemur pack. Suddenly the roar, so wild and piercing to the core, made the beasts scream and scatter in panic in the bushes. The girl shuddered, clutching her heart in terror. The sweep of bright blue wings that came down on the ground, crushing the bushes, shocked and stunned her. Laura had never seen a mountain banshee this close. From something screaming in panic and shaking her head. The girl opened her eyes in wild amazement. A bloodied, unconscious Na'vi had fallen from the winged animal's back. A tall blue body in military gear fell between two prickly bushes. The banshee flapped its wings and rose into the air, disappearing into the sky.

«Oh my God, it's an avatar!»

Laura dropped to her knees and crawled toward the man. The long thorns of the bushes touched her tanned skin, scratching her to the point of pain. The girl clenched her teeth from the unpleasant thrill, but, holding herself together, approached the victim. Streams of blood trickled from his wide nose, mingling with the profuse sweat on his blue skin. The avatar furrowed his dark eyebrows and lowered his pointed ears in pain and agony, but he did not regain consciousness. He only opened his mouth, breathing heavily in the air he needed.

Laura caught her breath. She stared in shock at the three-meter-tall humanoid she was seeing for the first time in her life. Her hands were shaking with excitement. She hadn't had to deal with avatars yet. The therapist wasn't sure she could give first aid to this creature properly, because she didn't know how much their anatomy matched that of a human. But despite her fear and uncertainty, her therapist habit was to go nowhere. With feverish movements, she began to check for a pulse and determine the damage to her body. The girl also fleetingly noticed the long tail she had accidentally sat on. She hesitantly put her palms to the humanoid's chest, probing for numerous cuts. Blood was flowing from the punctured shoulder. She had to act immediately. The purple insignia of skulls and a snake on the victim's clothing suggested that this was someone very important to the RDA. A recombinant organism. Back from the dead, he risked ending up on the other side of the world again.

The therapist gathered her senses and was vigilant. She grabbed the edges of her cotton T-shirt, tearing the white fabric in two halves. A few moments more, and the punctured shoulder was carefully bandaged. The girl couldn't let it die. Quickly she took the smartphone out of her backpack with her bloodstained fingers and dialed the right number. The beeps were excruciatingly long. Laura was shaking with fear for the creature's life. She gently wiped the blood from under his nose, checked his pupils, and lifted her eyelids. Rekom was on the verge of life and death. Laura swallowed the lump in her throat. Emotions were running wild.

«God, I hope you don't die!» — Laura thought, and a shuddering veil covered her eyes.

— Emergency service. What's wrong? — The operator's long-awaited voice came through the smartphone like a breath of oxygen.

Laura perked up, holding reckom's bandaged shoulder with her free hand. He hissed desperately, like a roadkill cat, remaining unconscious with only one twitch of his tail.

— Therapist Laura-Anastasia Asadi speaks! Suburban Park sixth district, thirteenth precinct on the south gate side, a recombinant has been found in critical condition! Send a car immediately, he has lost a lot of blood, punctured shoulder! Also suspected second-degree concussion!

The wounded man moved his ear. He tried to catch every word, tried to come to his senses, but all he could do was open his blood-glued lips and whisper faintly:

— I must... I must...

— What? — Laura leaned toward his face. She excitedly contemplated every inch of smooth blue skin with smooth "tiger" stripes, and her hand gently slid down the long neck of the amazing creature, where the pulse beat faintly.

— Miss Asadi, five minutes, the brigade is on its way, wait!

***

At the end of the long, bright tunnel, flooded with blinding light, Miles saw the outlines of people. They were calling his name and rank, asking him to return. Somewhere he'd heard those voices before, painfully familiar, but no image had ever emerged in his mind.

«Who are they? And what do they want?»

As if he were weightless, light as a feather, he floated and felt absolute serenity. He did not want to fly to the sound of the voices. He wished he could stay. This strange place of walls of bright white light engulfed him with every second and distanced him from human silhouettes. It seemed so familiar, so quiet and safe. There was no noise, no one was giving orders. And there was no pain.

«It's so good here» — Miles thought, but the bliss was short-lived. An invisible force, like a magnet, pulled him forward along the tunnel. A sense of excitement and fear made his heart beat fast. Now he heard not only people's voices, but also the pounding of his own heart. Something squeezed his lungs. The feeling of his body returned. And the pain returned. The heaviness in his right shoulder was accompanied by a groan. Miles opened his eyes.

— Finally! We thought we'd lost you, Colonel, — said the man in the big round glasses and white coat. The nurses, standing on either side of the patient, shined flashlights directly into his eyes, testing the response of his pupils. Miles exhaled irritably. He wanted to raise his hand and shove the pesky medics away, but the straps of sturdy material prevented him from even moving.

— What the hell? — the recom stared at the restraints that held him in one position, overcoming the stabbing pain in his ribs.

— I'm sorry, sir, this is an involuntary measure. Do you remember what happened to the previous shift of doctors? Your violent reaction sent them to the ICU.

— I'll put you in the ICU if you don't take off those fucking bracelets right now. Now!

— Sir, no, I can't, I'm sorry, that's an order... — the doctor smiled tensely, adjusting his glasses on his thin humped nose.

— I order you! — growled grudgingly Miles, emphasizing the pronoun.

— Please, sir, calm down, you can't be nervous, you've been injected with a double dose of antibiotics...

The doctor's speech of trembling, uncertain words was interrupted by an electronic beep. The massive doors parted to the sides, opening to the visitors. General Ardmore appeared in the ICU in the company of several guards and with a man in a black business suit. When Miles saw people in such suits in front of him, he was knowingly preparing for something unpleasant. These well-dressed rats always demanded too much and gave nothing in return. The first thing he would remove from his memories of his past life was service to such chumps.

— You have no right to give orders if you can't handle even a simple task,— the general said, and walked over to the wounded man, looking at his injuries from head to toe with a look of frustration, — report what happened. And where's Dr. Ian Garvin?

Miles pressed his lips together, holding back the urge to curse, and, clenching his fists, obediently answered:

— The ship sank. The crew, the doctor, and the captain are probably dead. So were my men. Sully attacked from several flanks. There were more of them than we thought, there was little chance of winning.

— But those chances were there? — the man in the suit asked.

Miles glanced at the stranger, thinking only of how nice it would be to take a cool shower now, but instead he had to lie in the medication-soaked room and report back.

— That's right. If it hadn't been for their tame whale with amrita in its head, I'd have executed the scumbag Sally.

A tense feeling arose in his mind. He remembered how the blue savage, Sally's wife, had put a dagger to Spider's throat, intending to avenge her son's death. But was Miles guilty of that? Jake, as a father, had failed. The inevitable war, one way or another, would have touched everyone anyway, and the family leader could have ensured that the children would not be involved. But he himself gave the trump cards to the enemy and was punished by fate.

— Are you going to write in your report that the whale is to blame for your failure, too? Or maybe you screwed up strategically after all? — The generaless folded her arms across her chest in displeasure, glaring at recom with her penetrating eyes from beneath her camouflage cap.

Miles turned his head away, looking out the ajar window, and for a few seconds there was silence in the ICU. There, on the base grounds, right on the roof of the warehouse, sat his dark blue banshee. The celestial predator spread her broad wings that dangled gracefully on either side of the roof and brushed out her feathers. Military onlookers passed by, darting away as if she were a demon, but the bird was strikingly calm.

«What devotion» — still marveled the recom.

The irritation was replaced by an unpleasant longing somewhere in the depths of soul. Son. He came to mind again. The boy had chosen to stay with the one who had raised him since he was a baby, even after the demon stepmother had nearly slit his throat. Miles tried to understand his own feelings and inadvertently imagined two different beings struggling inside him.

«You little bugger, all because of you!» — thought the colonel, remembering the face of the furiously snarling Spider.

— I'll make the report very honestly, don't worry, General,— he said, looking at his boss again with a calm look.

— It's not the report I'm worried about, it's your recklessness and stupidity! You've been dragging around with that wild boy and you've let your guard down.

— You're looking in the wrong direction, General. I took Sully by surprise, killed his son. He'll come. He'll want revenge. Then it'll be over quickly.

— Oh, so the result of the defeat is the future? — The man in the suit came back into the conversation. He kept writing something down in a folder. — You sacrificed an entire fleet to eliminate one saboteur? Then how many souls do you need to take out the others? Particularly the leader.

— I don't like the way he looks at me," Miles blurted out, trying to lie down more comfortably, but the pain in his shoulder made him moan painfully.

— Meet the chief administrator, Mr. Jonathan Bryce, — the general waved to the doctor, pointing to the medicines, and he obediently administered a recurrent dose of painkillers.

Miles shook his head hopelessly and closed his eyelids tiredly. The voices ringing in his head were getting tiresome.

— The last thing I need here is another Selfridge...

— Don't be sarcastic, Colonel. Do you realize why you were sent here again? — asked the man named Bryce, — because I got the impression that you had lost the thread of the narrative in the cases.

— You can't judge a war that isn't over by one lost battle,— Miles immediately retorted, — Sully will come back himself, and this will be our chance to eliminate the bastard.

General Ardmore's face stretched an ironic smile. She spread her arms to her sides and replied:

— You have lost twice, Colonel. Once in that life. The second time in this life.

— Honestly, I don't quite understand what happened in that life, — recom frowned unhappily, shaking his head, — everything seems like some kind of deja vu and only, with some sense of the past. Bryce, tell upstairs that I've been sold a blue marriage.

— And it isn't a marriage at all, Colonel, — the man smiled haughtily, as if hiding something important, and then slammed the file shut.

Miles opened his yellow eyes in bewilderment, and even the general looked questioningly at the RDA representative.

 — What does that mean? What do you mean?

— Tell me, Doctor, how long will the recombinant have to be serviced? — Bryce ignored the colonel's questions.

— With injuries like that it will take at least a week, — replied the medic and scratched the back of his head, unsure of his patient, — sir, it is advisable not to disturb him even now...

Bryce squinted, tapping his fingers on his folder, then looked at the general and said confidently:

— We need him tomorrow.

— Tomorrow?! — The doctor's jaw dropped, — but, sir, it's highly irrational, he... He needs rest and treatment...

— Well, now I know why they tied me up! — Miles laughed out loud, — Doc, you didn't want me to blow somebody's face off, did you?

— You have some special remedy for our colonel, don't you? — Bryce went on asking questions, insisting on his point.

— Yes, but you don't understand...

— Wonderful! - he interrupted the doctor with a satisfied smile on his lips," Then you know how to get him back on his feet.

«What are these bitches hiding?».

***

Time was nearing sunset when Laura took off her disposable work robe and tossed it into a small recycling chamber. At the push of a button, not a trace of the artificially created used fabric was left. The day had been impossibly boring, except for a failed morning jog. Couldn't get that wounded recombinant out of my mind. Big and blue and so adorable that Laura couldn't help but worry about him. Every now and then she wondered if he had survived. She hoped for the best, and didn't have the courage to call the Center. And who on earth would report the well-being of an important RDA recom to an ordinary GP? Laura was sure that even such information remained a secret within the walls of the organization. The recombinant program remained inaccessible to most of the staff: none of the rank-and-file knew about its details, only the creators themselves and the upper ranks of specialists. Laura had heard that every employee touched by the program signed a nondisclosure agreement, and leaking information threatened huge fines and prison. But there were even crazier rumors: a rumor had circulated among a large group that one of the scientists had gone missing after management learned of his entries in a personal diary. He was writing down what he was obliged to keep only in his head, and the RDA thought he might have been passing secret information to the ranks of the enemy. When Laura first heard this story, she only wondered to whom this scientist could have revealed secrets if the RDA had no competitors on Earth for thirty years? They were absolute monopolists. Could the scientist be revealing secrets to the Na'vi clans? But what could they possibly know about it? Or perhaps he was secretly collaborating with Jake Sully himself? Whatever the truth was, Laura didn't believe these tales, and only smiled at such stories.

With an unpleasant heavy weight on her soul due to not knowing the fate of the recom, Laura was about to leave the infirmary, but then she was called at the guardhouse. The operator behind the monitors, named Sam, waved, and the therapist immediately walked over to the counter.

— Let me guess, you mean I'm being left on the night shift again? — Laura leaned her head on her side tiredly.

— Pumpkin, what do you think of me! — laughed the red-haired operator in the black uniform, — Do you really think I only intend to bring you bad news?

— Why? — Asadi stretched out and laughed in response, — it's not bad news at all, I love my job and my patients, it's just that only robots can have no rest.

— I know, I know, you try harder than anyone else, — Sam said as he patted the girl's hair, which fell in a wavy mop of long dark strands to one side as Laura habitually tucked it back and to the side.

— Oh, you sly fox,— she scowled playfully, — just to flatter.

— And you're wrong, not flattery at all, — the guy pulled out of his jacket pocket almost transparent card, handing it directly into the hands of his partner — a name pass of the first level. Passed a few minutes ago. But don't flatter yourself, it's disposable.

Laura opened her eyes in amazement. She twirled the card several times, as if to verify its authenticity. Such passes were issued only to personnel from the RDA Center: scientists, engineers, programmers, elite military and directors. She looked questioningly at Sam, who was smiling, genuinely pleased with her reaction.

— Yeah, yeah, it's right up there. They said the management wants to see you today.

— They did? But... why? — Laura panicked, feeling her cheeks redden as her blood pressure soared — oh God, did I do something wrong? Did I kill the patient? That's right, I killed him!

Sam laughed, throwing his head back and grabbing his stomach.

— Baby, come on, calm down! It's just a request to appear in front of your superiors. Maybe they want to promote you.

— Sam! Promotion? You... — Laura looked at the chart, — Jonathan Bryce? That's the kind of authority given to our chief medical officer so he doesn't have to bother the top for no reason.

— Well, then the head doctor can fire you too, why would Bryce have to write you a pass like that and call you in to see him? — The guard barely calmed down, wiping away the tears that came out of laughter, — God, pumpkin, you're just a miracle, you made my day more fun, I love you...

Laura put her palm to her forehead, herself barely restraining a laugh from her silly reaction. But at times like this, when excitement overwhelmed her, she couldn't help herself. Laura possessed concentration and vigilance only in her work, because she understood that she could not make mistakes as a professional. But in life, this philosophy did not apply.

— I'm sorry, Sam, I... I sometimes lose control... — the therapist took a deep breath and exhaled, looking at the pass again. — It says the time. That's in about twenty minutes. I wonder why I'm being summoned.

— Let's go for a ride, and we'll find out together? — Sam smiled slyly, taking the backpack from the girl and slinging it over his shoulder.

— Are you on a motorcycle? — Laura pressed the pass to her chest.

— That's right, miss!

— That's good, sir! I love the speed!

***

The tailwind blew Laura's curls as she made her way to the main RDA building. Sam was accelerating faster and faster on his motorcycle, and she held him tightly by the waist as she watched the neon lights of the city. On the road, she only wondered why this building was farther away than the others. Almost at the edge of the city towered a tall gate of solid steel, shutting out whatever was going on there from the gawkers. The area looked more like a secret military training ground than a haven for scientists and business directors: endless hangars, armored vehicles, men in uniform, and fighter planes on the roofs. The area was constantly patrolled by guards armed to the teeth. No one could enter the area without a pass, which made Laura uncomfortable. She, a rank-and-file general practitioner, was suddenly given that pass.

«I hope me don't get fired» — the girl thought, resting her chin on Sam's shoulder and looking hopefully ahead at the road. And when the gates of the main building appeared on the horizon, she craned her neck in curiosity and felt her knees tremble.

Sam stopped the motorcycle just inside the security barrier that separated them from the entrance to the compound, ten meters away. The automatic metal detector emitted a distinctive beep, scanning the arrivals with a bright red stripe from bottom to top. Laura pressed her lips together uncertainly, pulling out her precious security badge. Several guards approached with machine guns. One, pointing a machine gun, walked around the arrivals as if looking for something suspicious.

— Good evening, what can we do for you? — one of the men asked, tall, pumped up and tattooed.

— Hello, delivering a guest to Mr. Jonathan Bryce, — Sam smiled friendly, nodding at the passenger in the back.

Laura felt a little uncomfortable holding out her pass to the guard. The man looked at the card, then at her, twisting it in his fingers with disbelief.

— Laura-Anastasia Asadi? — he asked in a clarifying manner to

— Yes, sir...

The second gunman's walkie-talkie crackled and he asked into the microphone:

— This is the central station speaking. Requesting validity of badge twelve thirty — two for time twenty-one zero zero. Do you copy?

— I confirm it's up to date, — a soft, female voice answered, — Let through.

Laura bit her lip with the excitement that overwhelmed her trembling soul. She looked ahead at the massive gate, imagining what everything looked like there, for she had never had to be here before. Curiosity scrambled like cats. And the guard lowered his weapon and only nodded his head forward, letting his guest through. Sam wanted to follow, leaving the bike with the guard, but he was immediately stopped by a hand.

— You can't. No pass, — the tattooed man said.

— And who's going to show her where to go? — Sam with a wave of his hands.

— Go to the gate, miss, — the guard turned to Laura, — they'll meet you there and escort you to your office.

Asadi nodded obediently and, after saying goodbye to Sam who winked at her, moved toward the gate. There she was met by a second group of guards and a screening system. She was asked to have her fingerprints and retina scanned. The access card was told to be kept until she left the building, and after that it would no longer be valid.

Laura was finally led onto the grounds. She opened her mouth in amazement, convinced she was right. A veritable military training ground. Armored vehicles, fighters, robot mechanics, and people in uniform. Several soldiers passed by in three-meter-long exoskeleton suits, raising a column of gravel dust into the air. The therapist coughed, brushing the dust off her face.

«Wow!» — she wondered.

— Miss Asadi? — A woman's voice was heard from behind, and the girl turned around to see a servicewoman in outfit.

— Huh? Yes, it's me... — Laura was confused.

— Come on, I'll accompany you to the boss's office. He's already waiting for you. Is this your first time here?

— Yes, I've never visited this building before. Tell me, why are there so many military men here? — Laura was curious, looking around with the gaze of a keen tourist.

— The war, — answered the girl briefly. — Several new regiments and units have arrived.

— Is it really that bad?

— Miss Asadie, the military is not just here to perform its direct tasks. We employ hundreds of men every day for various jobs. You don't have to worry, everything's under control.

«I want to believe it» ��� Laura thought, wrapping her arm tentatively around herself.

It was harder to breathe in here. There was so much dust and mechanical odor in the air that her throat became dry. With every step she took, she swallowed a lump across her throat and coughed. It seemed that the mask wasn't enough. But once inside, Asadi forgot all about air: the mask could finally be removed. Bright holograms dazzled her eyes. A group of operators was working on something, even though there were many people in military uniforms in the main hall. The monitors glowed with numerous scans of the terrain: soaring mountains, the sea, and some parts of the forested area. Laura turned her attention to the image of fallen centuries-old trees engulfed in flames. They must have been blown down quite recently by volleys of missiles. The girl casually shuddered.

— Sector Five, attention, deal with a herd of direhorse. The distance is six meters, we need a clear path to the mines, — one of the operators muttered lazily into his earpiece.

— They're really close, — the other smiled and shook his head, — I guess they're used to it.

— If the second shift stops feeding them, there won't be a problem.

— We'd better put it in the report, see if it helps.

Laura, stopping behind the cameramen, stared into the monitor where the image of the horses was transmitted and smiled as she watched several cubs frolicking beside the road. She didn't even notice the servicewoman walk to the elevator and call out to her several times.

— Please keep up, Miss Asadi, it's easy to get lost here, — the uniformed conductor warned as she pressed the button for the top floor.

Laura felt the familiar excitement again, only now, on top of everything else, her heart was jumping out of her chest: she could hear it pounding in her ears. To calm herself down, she had to take a bottle of water out of her backpack and take a few sips, but it was in vain - the water had time to heat up and was not tasty. Laura relied on her self-control, so as not to look like a pathetic, intimidated rabbit to her superiors. A long corridor, wide windows of offices and people in business clothes. Now she felt herself outside the military training ground. The top floor turned out to be exactly what she imagined the entire building to be.

— We're here, Miss Asadi, Mr. Bryce is waiting for you, — the girl guide stopped at the main translucent door, where you could see several people: one in a black suit, another in a military uniform.

Laura straightened her back and cleared her throat, nervously adjusting her loose curls. Her cheeks lit up with a treacherous blush. She couldn't hide her excitement; she always had a hard time with any lie.

— Thank you for seeing her off, — the therapist said.

— You're welcome. Come in, don't be shy, — the military woman opened the door, inviting her guest in.

Laura entered the office. Attention was immediately drawn to her. Jonathan Bryce turned around at the sound of the doors opening and immediately smiled when he saw the girl. Standing next to him, General Ardmore folded her arms across her chest.

— So you are Miss Asadi? — asked the head administrator and invited the guest to sit down.

— Yes, Mr. Bryce, I'm a general practitioner, I work in the city clinic, — Laura modestly squared her shoulders and sat down in a cushioned chair. She suddenly felt dirty and clumsy, as if a homeless person had been brought into a rich house.

— I remember you on the first day of your stay, you arrived as part of the third crew, didn't you? Serviced the frozen staff? — The Generaless stepped back to the window, observing what was going on outside.

— That's right, — Laura quickly mumbled with excitement and only then realized that this was the answer of the soldiers, but the generaless apparently found it amusing: she smiled at her succinct military answer along with Bryce. — I was twenty when I was accepted into the program, and I was twenty-five when the ship arrived on Pandora.

— I'm still new here and had no idea there were precious diamonds on the staff. A young beautiful girl, and a talented therapist too! — Jonathan splashed his hands in admiration and went to the coffee machine with three cups. — Not many people at such a young age are able to achieve intergalactic flight... Tell me, what is your secret?

Laura was confused at the question, ran her eyes around and answered tensely:

— I just got lucky... When I applied, I didn't count on anything at all, but I heard that the RDAs prefer young professionals, those who can work hard and diligently, and those who are far away from retirement...

— You really are a long way from her, — laughed the General, and Laura smiled modestly, dropping her gaze to the floor. — You're good. Mr. Bryce, you don't know yet, but this girl has already proved herself. When there was an accident on board, thanks to Miss Asadi's ingenuity, she managed to keep the frozen in their original state. She manually kept the capsules at the correct temperature for several hours while the damage was repaired. Had it not been for her idea with the tubes and the pump, we would have lost people.

— Thanks, but I was just doing my duty and listening to the head doctor, — Laura couldn't hold back a modest smile, she wasn't often praised by such big men as four-star General Francis Ardmore.

— Look at you, shy, too! — Bryce put a cup of hot coffee on the table in front of the guests. — Miss Asadi, you shouldn't be modest, you should be proud of your success and talent! After all, we invited you to express our sincere gratitude to you personally for not allowing our recombinant to perish.

Laura looked up, full of hope at the chief administrator.

— Had he survived? Is he all right?

— Thanks to your vigilance. A few more minutes and we would have lost him.

— Wow... — Laura whispered faintly to herself, tucking the unruly curls behind her ears and sighing in relief. — And I thought you were going to fire me...

— No, miss, — Bryce shook his head, taking a sip from his mug of coffee drink, — it's specialists like you that the RDA needs. Right now the ten-mile bridgehead has two million inhabitants. Most of them are military personnel, medics, scientists and engineers. But very soon, thanks to people like you and me, the city will blossom.

— You will help us to do it, won't you? - The general winked at the visitor from under her cap.

Laura smiled:

— With what I can, of course...

— Sure you can, — Bryce reached into his desk locker, pulled out another pass card, and placed it in front of the therapist. — To thank you for saving our precious recombinant, I invite you to a business dinner. There won't be many guests, but I'll introduce you to our leading scientists and specialists. We will decide where to place you, closer to the main control center.

Asadi's jaw dropped. She took the ID card with trembling fingers and clapped her eyes in amazement. It was too sudden. The unexpectedness struck at the heart, making her mentally tremble and rejoice, and outwardly just sit in a stupor at such a generous invitation from the chief administrator. She had never been to a social event before, especially to meet the cream of society. And the cream of society on Pandora was considered to be the famous talented scientists, military men, and engineers. It was an honor for Laura to meet them. It seemed as if a captivating dream had plunged her into a reverie.

— Mr. Bryce, thank you, that's... Thank you, Mr. Bryce, I would be honored to accept such an invitation... — ...Laura repeated the boss's name several times with excitement.

— We'll bring the car to your place of residence. And to make it less exciting for you, this pass can be used by two people, take someone with you to make it safer, — said General Ardmore, putting a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder.

Laura smiled through tears of undisguised joy.

— Thank you, thank you very much...

***

— Not a bad girl, — the general stated as she and the administrator descended into the catacomb system beneath the RDA main building. A spiral metal staircase stretched down four meters, illuminated by wall-mounted neon lights. The air here was cold and musty, with a touch of medication: an unpleasant but harmless bitterness lodged in my throat.

Bryce followed the general downstairs, grabbing a protective, see-through jumpsuit with black gloves from a rack and pulling it over his business suit.

— Funny, it made me smile. I can't remember the last time someone lifted my spirits...

— Is that why you invited her to dinner, so she could keep... to keep you amused?

— I just wanted to thank for saving the colonel, that's all. I didn't expect to see such a pretty girl in the GP ranks. I'd have to go to that clinic and see if I'd be surprised.

— You can't put your finger in your mouth, Jonathan...

— I can't resist a young exotic! — Bryce laughed as he followed the general down the narrow corridor.

At the end was a massive iron door, more like a bank vault door. Inside, under the bright lights, among the chemicals and medical equipment, a group of scientists in protective, see-through jumpsuits and masks labored, observing the subjects and their reactions. Desperate cries echoed through the lab from the sealed chamber. Jonathan opened his mouth in amazement as he walked around the side of the chamber, standing in front of a thick armored window in the floor.

— Is this exactly what you told me about? — the receptionist asked with admiration.

— Yes, sir. We're still just at the beginning stage, but I think by the end of the week we'll have a result that will satisfy us.

— And we can start the cleanup as early as next week? Are you sure about that?

— Absolutely, — said one of the scientists, who approached the administrator and extended his hand in a friendly black rubber glove.

Jonathan shook the man's hand and, clearing his throat, asked:

— What exactly did you come up with? So far all I can see is a squirming blue primate. And, I don't get it, is that our recom?

— Retired, sir, — the general clarified. — One of the surviving recoms from Quaritch's group. Arrived at the base a couple of hours before the colonel. Failed, but will be able to serve in a different way now.

— On the basis of a neurotoxin, which is used by local humanoids, we managed to develop a unique powder mixture, — began to explain the scientist, not paying attention to the cries of the experimenter. — The spraying range of this crystalline substance may be small — five meters, if you wish — but the result will not disappoint you. Besides, the poisoning affects not only the fauna, but also the flora, which is consumed by the na'vi.

Lieutenant Lyle Wainfleet clenched his fists to the point of pain, trying to break free of the steel shackles. The collars around his ankles, hands, and neck squeezed his flesh tightly, preventing him from moving even a couple of centimeters. His blue naked body shuddered now and then in spasms of unbearable pain. The only thing left was to cry out desperately, hoping that at least someone would hear him from above and help him out of his torment. But the torture continued. The white gas came from the pipe every five minutes with an increased dosage.

— I'll kill you scum! I'll kill you! — Lyle screamed, baring bloody fangs like a hunted predator.

[bidokja]

the Story in duke pendragon is genuinely good, with a really solid trio of main characters and enough emotional investment and intrigue to keep me reading for sure. plus the art style for the manhwa is really interesting to see out of a redice team given how most of their other stuff looks the same and rather generic (which isn't BAD per-se it's understandable from a Studio with teams made to make quickly serialized manhwa. it's just. uninteresting).

...now, if only they wrote women seriously. sighs. like. they each have their own distinct personalities and mannerisms so there's that at least (oh how low the bar hath fallen) but the creator largely fails to develop them as individuals with their own goals. aside from sol (who i suspect is written as "hm, not bad" as she is because she's written as a dragon first and woman second) they all get completely sidelined when it comes to plot for the entire first season of the manhwa, and 90% of any girl's or woman's screentime is spent thinking about, fawning over, or swooning due to our main guy eren as a tool to...boost his perceived impact and importance to the reader i guess. and stroke the ego of men or something. idk. i think i'm low-balling 90% actually. even girls that are supposedly near the center of major plot points (like ingrid, for example) are never shown...actually getting involved with said major plot point.

this only really starts changing to a small degree in season 2, and while they do at least manage to make it feel like natural character development for like, luna, her motivation still ultimately revolves around eren. i realize that to some extent Everything revolves around the main character and the decisions he makes, but there are more subtle--and, crucially, less misogynistic--ways to do this when writing.

it's genuinely such a shame because--well firstly because misogyny just sucks ass like come on now. but also because the surface level personalities we get from the girls and women in the series are a solid and varied base! they're just not really doing anything else with them!! there could be a lot more going on here very naturally but it's just not being done. sighs.

[minetteskvareninova]

You're missing the point of that post. It's not about slut shaming and it's not some weird double standard against Rhaenyra & Targaryens. Its the fact that politically, Rhaenyra could've avoided everything very easily but chose not too. Her making really poor choices bc of her entitlement that being Royal, Targaryen, and knowing the prophecy is a big part of her character. It's the fact that Targaryen Exceptionalism, Feudalism & Succession Crisises are really stupid ways of governance and only ruins those around them. This whole system is a house of cards that can be so easily broken simply over hair color. It's almost willful misreading to say it's about slut shaming.

But of course, and that uppity German Struensee would've gotten away with his reforms if only he could keep it in his pants innit Juliana

*sigh* For all of you who still didn't get it:

I used Carolina Mathilda as an example, because unlike book!Rhaenyra (jury's still out on show!Rhaenyra, I honestly get SOME of the reasons why people don't like her, even if my ultimate judgement of her is way more positive) for one reason, and one reason only: she is, both in history and in the movie, unquestionably sympathetic.

For those of you who don't know, En kongelig affaere, or A Royal Affair, is a Danish film that adapts the story of queen Carolina Mathilda of Denmark, whose affair with her mentally ill husband's doctor Johann Friedrich Struensee was used by Struensee's enemies to boosts his charges of treason. The real issue was, of course, court power politics - the king's detachment of reality was so intense he was almost completely incapable of doing his job, and Struensee used that to basically rule in his stead, which of course earned him many enemies. Even worse, his pro-enlightenment policies (although think less Robespierre and more emperor Joseph II.) sparked outrage among the nobility; Joseph II. is an apt comparison here, although he didn't have the added baggage of being a lowborn man seizing power behind the scenes and (allegedly) having an affair with the queen. Jury's still out on whether that particular charge is based on truth, but it's certainly possible, and the movie went with "yes", just because it makes for a better story. In any case, Struensee ended up being executed, while Carolina Mathilda survived, but was torn away from her children and sent into exile. The movie is relatively faithful retelling of a certain quite plausible version of the story, also it has a superb script, great costumes and cast packed to the gills with amazing actors (Mads Mikkelsen, Alicia Vikander, for those in the know also Mikkel Boe Fosgard and Tryne Dyrnholm) - basically, if you can find it, go watch it, after surviving Hot D y'all deserve some real cinema.

Now, in the movie, it's heartbreakingly easy to sympathize with Carolina Mathilda. When she is just a teenager, she is married off to her severely mentally ill cousin, who constantly mistreats her and seems to kinda hate her, plus her affair with Struensee is motivated by genuine romantic feelings. Noone in their right mind would call Carolina Mathilda "entitled" for it (I HOPE). And sure, Rhaenyra is much less miserable than her, but her emotional life is in a similarly hopeless spot, where she can only find actual romance outside of marriage. Plus, unlike Carolina Mathilda, there is no deception involved, at least with her husband - she still has to gaslight the rest of the country, but them's the breaks, what would you have her do, NOT give birth to the prince of my heart Jacaerys Targaryen?! Like, people, you are calling a woman entitled, because she is in a loving monogamous relationship with someone who isn't her (gay) husband. I don't know if it's slut-shaming, but it most certainly isn't FAIR.

What I think confuses people about this comparison is that both book and show!Rhaenyra can be called spoiled and entitled (keyword is CAN; I personally don't agree with this assessment of her either, but let's say for the sake of the argument) for a lot of other things. She has certainly done her fair share of mistakes and I get the general dislike of her - I myself dislike show!Alicent in much the same way, it really depends what actions and character flaws personally irritate you more. But again, having a loving monogamous relationship, with the consent of her husband no less, is just not the kind of mistake I can imagine anyone hating her for. Yes, yes, it is hypocritical to subscribe to a feudal order that abhors bastards while having bastards yourself, but crucially, it's the kind of hypocrisy that many noblemen parttake in with no reprecussions whatsoever, from Corlys to Bobby B. And, again, Rhaenyra's affair with Harwin actually MORE excusable, because unlike Corlys' relationship with Marilda, it doesn't get in the way of an otherwise loving marriage (unless it happened before his marriage to Rhaenys in the show - it didn't in the books, but also in the books the Hull boys might be Laenor's, it's complicated), and unlike Bobby B, she is far from a hedonist serial philanderer. We can debate whether any of that would be WRONG per se, but it certainly would be LESS UNDERSTANDABLE.

It is not entitled to want a fulfilling romantic relationship even in a situation that isn't exactly conductive to it. How is that a hard concept to grasp, I really don't know. Maybe y'all should just read or watch more things dealing with romantic relationships under these circumstances - I highly recommend starting with A Royal Affair, seriously, you guys, it is so good.

[frozenambiguity]

Today's thoughts reside on the relationship between Kaeya and Varka.

There is little that we know about Varka, apart from a few mentions regarding his connections to a few characters and the fact that he has embarked on a journey and took all the cavalry with him. The overall impression that we get is that he is highly respected and looked upon by the community, and even idealized by some, be it the knights, the citizens of Mond, or outsiders ( take Childe's opinion, for example ).

We also know for a fact that Kaeya tends to act in a somewhat dissimulated // cold // calculative way in order to attain his goals and that he bears no shame in his controversial methods. He fraternizes with the enemy, he has dealings with the black market, and he puts other people in risky situations. So you might be asking: Cláudia, what does one thing have to do with another? Well. There is a certain voice line of Kaeya that has always stuck with me:

"There are a total of ten captains within the Knights of Favonius. But truth be told, not all of them have what it takes to be leaders."

I know Kaeya is talking about the captains and not the highest positions of Acting Grandmaster and Grandmaster, but this voice line has always made me question the exact qualities that Kaeya approves of when it comes to leadership. And how Varka, precisely, seems to suit that role in Kaeya's eyes.

We know for certain that Kaeya's views are not one hundred percent aligned with the idealistic, heroic ambitions many KoF possess. Due to his life experiences, you can even say that he has a certain disenchantment with the way the world works ( in the sense that he views the world in different shades of grey. Not everything is marvelous and not everything is catastrophic --- good and evil both coexist, as do light and shadow, and that is the natural order of things ).

But what is interesting to me is that Kaeya approves Varka's way of operating. We do not know the exact details so far. We do not even know what the intent of the expedition that made Varka depart with the cavalry really is. We only know that it must be something grand for it to be so secretive and require so many resources, and important enough for the highest person in charge to entrust Mondstadt to the care of others. But Varka's modus operandi is mentioned by Kaeya multiple times:

"Now that you mention him, it is a shame there is no one in the Knights of Favonius to inherit the Grand Master's approach to his work. *sigh* I must say I really do appreciate people like him."

This gives me the impression that, although ethical, Varka must be someone capable of understanding the way the world works and acting realistically on it. That is to say: he might approach situations as someone who is not afraid to dirty their hands when the circumstances demand it. And someone who is not afraid to be secretive about his carefully crafted plans. Sounds familiar?

Kaeya and Varka have had a somewhat philosophical discussion regarding justice and what exactly it entails, and I wish we had more context about it. A debate concerning a topic so heavy seems to imply that their relationship is not merely one of employer and employee. Kaeya freely exposes his way of thinking to Varka, who no doubt has noticed Kaeya's special way of dealing with things:

"Justice is not an absolute principle, but the result of striking that fine balance between strength and strategy. As for the details of how it's done... Don't worry yourself too much about that." Kaeya once said these words in front of Grand Master Varka.

It is interesting to notice that, although Kaeya's methods may be questioned, people like his comrades and Jean still decide to follow and support him. They trust his intuition. Varka must be no exception. Not that their relationship is necessarily 100% based on trust: Kaeya has dismissed Varka's worries regarding his past and arrival in Mondstadt --- something that, too, confirms that Varka might suspect people's true motives easily, much like Kaeya does. 

Even when the Grand Master demanded information on his background, Kaeya skirted around the issue and gave only vague answers devoid of details.

I really wish we had more information about these two, because all in all, this got me wondering about Kaeya's and Varka's methods of operating and whether they are similar in nature, in general, and their way of understanding each other, in particular.

Could it be that the inner workings of these two characters are somewhat similar? Varka certainly seems to be more righteous than Kaeya is, perhaps because his position demands it. But he still trusted Kaeya enough to allow him into their ranks, although he had demanded clarity from Kaeya before and was not met with it.

Only time will reveal the true purpose of Varka's expedition, his true character, his objectives, and the role the KoF will play in the grand scheme of things.

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 196 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: Slow Tuesday at work.

ANNABELLE: "Perhaps… that’s because you didn’t seem to like what I had to say." MARTIN: "No, it’s because you weren’t really saying anything, were you? It was all just ominous foreshadowing again." Lol, poor Martin, always surrounded by ominous people XD

MARTIN: "Hey, this is your magic bubble. You’re the one making it so that we’re, like, actually walking, walking all the way to Oxford. So sorry I’ve got to sit down occasionally, like a human." Isn't Oxford a bit far from London to simply walk there? You know what, let's find out! Okay, Google maps, starting at the Chelsea College of Art and Design and our destination is 105 Hill Top Road in Oxford... 90 km, 19 hours. That's actually not that bad, they'll reach that in two days. I hope Martin has his camper backpack with him.

ANNABELLE: "And the book breaks?" MARTIN: "It’s not like you’re entertaining company." ANNABELLE: "And it’s nothing to do with the fact that any lost souls in our area also get a break from their torment? Hmmm?" First, I imagine Martin has a camping chair and a little parasol with him and every now and then he unpacks them, gets comfortable and starts reading. Second, OMG aren’t the victims of the domains they come across super confused?? One moment they facing their worst nightmares and suddenly there's sunshine and all their bones ache and they are tired, oh actually, they all probably fell asleep immediately... Otherwise, I'd be asking where are they. Why didn’t they spot the obvious tourists and walk with them in a little parade, all following the camera. (Don't mind me rambling here, I'm just having fun with silly little scenarios.)

MARTIN: "… So what if it does? Is that a problem?" ANNABELLE: "Actually, I find it very reassuring." Cause she wants him to want to save everybody.

ANNABELLE: "No. I did it in his sleep. He’d always been accommodating, so… I wanted to honour his wishes." Was there a superior motive? In the end, if she stole the camera and left him alive and well at Upton House, he'd just be integrated in the fear ecosystem, become either a watcher or watched. And either way, he wouldn't be able to leave his domain to try to stop anything. Hm... can watchers call out to Jon? So if Salesa ended up to be a watcher and could call out to Jon, he could have warned them about Annabelle at best. And only on short notice cause he wouldn't be able to reach Jon when they were in the tunnels, it would have had to be while they were inside the Panopticon. So somehow I think it wouldn’t have mattered if Salesa lived or died, not for our story.

MARTIN: "That’s a shame." ANNABELLE: "Is it?" MARTIN: "I mean… he seemed nice. To us at least." ANNABELLE: "And what of his victims? The people whose lives he destroyed?" Hehe, thinking about Martin wanting Fairchild dead because he threatened him to throw him off a rollercoaster and was a bit of a menace to talk to XD But tbf, Fairchild actively tormented people and wanted to torment them. Salesa was more of an accomplice. Selling all those cursed items (to the rich and arrogant,.. aaaand I’m thinking about MAG 155 again here) instead of sealing them away somehow or even destroying them.

MARTIN: [Sighs] "Is it much further?" Haha, this is the third time now that we hear him asking how much further it is XD

MARTIN: "Hey, is that – ? You told me not to bring a tape recorder." ANNABELLE: "No. I said we wouldn’t need one. We have plenty of tapes." Yeaaaah, already said it in MAG 161, the change of the logo for season 5 gave away the whole "the tapes are web" thing. I mean, it looks really cool and if you listen on a podcatcher it's all the same to you, it's the web tape logo right from the start, so I think it's better and not such a dead giveaway. I listened on YT the first time so I also saw the change in the logo and based my conclusion on the change.

ANNABELLE: "Do take a seat." [MARTIN PUTS DOWN BAG, TAKES A SEAT] Is it finally a comfortable seat?

ANNABELLE: "I’ve written you a statement. I would like for you to read it." Actually I was thinking, why does Martin read it. Why not Annabelle? Is there a canon-reason for that or was it something behind the scenes?

Okay, what about the "Stop no"s, just cross it out and start again, Annabelle, it's not that hard! xD

"immolated by the Chosen of the Ravening Burn." Oh, Ravening Burn, I like that title! Totally forgot about that.

"It was not wide enough to allow true passage, not yet, save for the odd accident." MAG 114.

ANNABELLE: "Oh, it’s so much more than a crack now. It’s an aching hole, a gaping wound in the very fabric of our world." I can't believe this line made it into the podcast... xD

ANNABELLE: [Wistful] "It’s a real shame, you know. I was so looking forward to filling you with spiders." I love that the initial plot of Web!Martin still made it somehow into the podcast. The self-awareness!

Also, Annabelle telling Martin of her plan is the moment Martin realizes this little stunt of him was extremely dangerous. Before that he was always annoyed and snappy, not really grasping the severity of the situation. For him, I mean. Not just for the sake of saving Jon.

ANNABELLE: "Because you always managed to get what you wanted through smiles and shrugs and stammerings that weren’t nearly as awkward as they seemed." [SMALL SOUND OF MARTIN’S CONCESSION TO THE POINT] MARTIN: "Point taken." I’m, sure y'all know what traditional narcissism is, but have you ever heard of nontraditional narcissism? Narcissism is probably more fueled by insecurity than an inflated ego and self-centeredness. While a traditional narcissist will push others down to get validation and keep their insecurity in check, nontraditional narcissists will put others on a pedestal. They’ll put themselves down in front of others, quietly manipulating them into giving them validation ("Oh wow, the XY you made looks so amazing, I will never be as good as you" - "Nooo, your stuff is amazing too!"). Not out-rightly saying Martin is a nontraditinal narcissist, but there definitely are tendencies in these kind of manipulation... I have them as well, after this line of Annabelle I did recognize this in myself and then with the knowledge of nontraditional narcissism I try to stop it when I catch myself doing it.

MARTIN: "Okay, let’s try a different question. What was your plan?" ANNABELLE: "I was going to snatch you away. Lure you both into this web, and then take you. Drive him to despair, so that when you returned to him, bulging, and talking in a thousand tiny voices, it would drive him to a final push." Since JonMartin wasn't planned to be canon at first and Web!Martin in return actually was, this would still have been a cool revelation and a wonderful surprised Pikachu betrayal, but not quite such a knife to the heart (heh, foreshadowing...) if they were together. God, JonMartin being a thing and Web!Martin happening would have been so unbelievably cruel... proper broken heart syndrome material... I like the way it eventually came together. Web!Martin still is valid and great, but from what I know about it I think I do prefer what ended up to be canon.

MARTIN: "And now?" ANNABELLE: [Sighs] "Your bond is too complicated. I couldn’t drive that kind of rift between you now. I’ve considered every angle, examined every cause and effect, and have finally come to the conclusion that I… [sighs] I need to tell you the truth, to explain things." Ha, JonMartin is stronger than the Web! (Well, stronger than that one plan at least.) Also, lol, sounds like Annabelle wrote a meta about their ship...

[WIND CONTINUES AS THUNDEROUS RUMBLES AND BUZZING INSECTS INTRUDE AUDITORILY] Sounds of a thousand gigantic spiders!!! I never understood, why this buzz sound is used for spiders, isn't that from a cricket or cicada or something? (The one here in TMA is not that stereotypical we hear in movies, but still.) (Also, of course spiders are not insects, they're arachnids.)

ARCHIVIST ON TAPE "So just listen –" [CLICK] [CLICK] "Listen, Martin, you should know –" [CLICK] [CLICK] "Now, listen to me, Martin, li-listen –" [CLICK] MAG 160, MAG 129 and MAG 159. Elias, the mass-ritual, which was crucial to the Web’s plan and Jon’s only purpose in all of this. And then talking to Martin twice. MAG 129 being the anchor episode. And MAG 159 of course when Jon went after Martin to get him out of the Lonely.

MARTIN: "What? All this time, through all of this, it, it was just you spying on us?" ANNABELLE: "Oh Martin. You have no idea who’s listening, do you?" Forth wall break?

@a-mag-a-day