#angry rich old man core

[jojacorp-official]

okay so i gave that emo guy the coupon and he used it to roll a blunt. ill take that as a win!!! he gave me his number too im swooning

"I expect that you'll be paying me back!"

[boogiewoogieweeb]

would LOVE to hear about the ned quits the navy one 👀👀

hi kay! thank you for the ask!

it's more of a nebulous, 100+ bullet point listicle of an au than an actual wip at this point, but i'm more than happy to yap on about it:

it's essentially a ned-centric post-rescue joplittle au in which ross ex machina saves a handful of the expedition survivors (including some of the mutineers). it mostly follows the show's timeline, with some self-indulgent exceptions regarding canonical character death (jfj doesn't die, for instance. he and francis had their 'wedding night' scene, but francis couldn't go through with it, and jfj is not quite as scorbutic in this au).

aboard the investigator, ned learns that jopson survived being abandoned, and has to wrestle with his conscience. he tries apologizing to jops, only to be soundly and coldly rebuffed in the attempt. this shakes ned to his core, and he questions the purpose of his own survival. things only get worse for his mental state when he overhears francis tell jcr that he feels personally responsible for what happened to the men after he got captured by the mutineers.

this makes ned question his entire naval career, and what it means to be a good man. after some soul searching, and further developments once they reach ye olde england (including an inquest by the admiralty; and sending francis money on the condition of anonymity to help pay for jops' recovery), ned decides to quit the navy and start a shipping venture of his own with the help of his (legendary) brother, james, and some rich benefactors thanks to his connection to lady jane.

things go moderately well. james invites ned to come live with him for a spell, their business grows lucrative, and ned slowly relearns what it means to be, if not happy, then at least content. until a very angry jops shows up on his doorstep one day and goes, "so. it's come to my attention that it's not captain crozier, but you i have to thank for funding my recovery". this leads to them having it out in the foyer, with jops angrily telling ned he doesn't need his charity, and ned replying even more angrily that it's not charity; but he had to do things behind jops' back because he knew jops would never accept his help otherwise.

eventually, jops asks him why he's so deadset on helping, and ned - without thinking - blurts out: “my heart stopped beating the day i left you behind, and only restarted when i learned that you’d survived. but by the time i could tell you so, however, you already hated me. and now, all i have left is my ability to care for you from afar.”

they're both stunned into silence by the admission. ned, in a near panic, hastily tries to salvage what little dignity he has left by vowing to stay away from jops forever if that's what he truly wants.

but instead of turning away in disgust, jops breaks down right in front of ned and simply says, "it would've been easier for both of us if only i was capable of hating you."

smth smth emotional catharsis. and then james little - gay legend that he is - walks in on them having their heart-to-heart, takes one look at jops and goes, "oh, this explains so much about why ned's Been Like This™ since he got back."

cue happy ending, applause, etc.

and yeah, that's basically ned quits the navy in a nutshell! i'd be more than happy to share the full bullet point list on here for anyone who'd like to know more.

once again kay, thank you for picking my guilty pleasure au to ask about! i hope you enjoyed learning more about it 💖

[gayleviticus]

dont know how to really put this into words and its not a very Easter-y post per se but something ive been thinking abt, and especially since Good Friday, is almost... how slender yet hugely significant a thread the passion of Jesus is in the Christian Bible?

my NRSV is 1102 pages (897 without deuterocanon). the Gospels take up 89 of those pages. 8-10% of the Christian Bible is about the life of Jesus (although ofc the rest of the NT is about unpacking what that means). and then the passion itself is an even smaller slice.

i often pray the catholic liturgy of the hours, which is at its core a bunch of psalms and then some other miscellaneous stuff depending on the time of day, and something i oddly appreciate abt it is all this time spent with OT Psalms makes explicitly Christian stuff like the Trinity or Jesus more exciting when it pops up, because you feel their absence a bit?

Christianity is very Jesus-drenched, and obviously that's because he's literally the core and namesake of the religion. but i sorta feel like sometimes it can be too much. Jesus overload. the significance of what it means for God to become human flesh and suffer and die as the culmination of this whole century-long epic of redemption fades a little. we don't always appreciate Jesus as the climax to the story because we start with him as the beginning.

sometimes i go thru phases where I spend most of my Bible reading time in the Old Testament, and for various reasons - it's got a different feel and scope, it speaks to different things (more of an emphasis on societal social justice), it's more dramatic in certain ways, it has nice poetry, it has a very rich tradition of people getting angry with God and pouring out their souls in suffering.

but i think deliberately spending this time away from the NT makes me appreciate what a big deal the Incarnation is - and i feel a bit in awe of the way that all the threads in this massive story of God's work culminate in the life of just one guy and his humiliating, brutal, embarrassing murder. A story that's weaved its way through global floods and plagues and revolution and kingdoms and wars and exile finds its thesis statement in One Man standing before Pilate, beaten by soldiers, dragging his cross through the streets, nailed to a tree.

it's a bizarre kind of narrative understatement. the Bible rejects the temptation of many a long-running franchise to go bigger and bigger, to keep on raising the stakes, and instead sits you down with the most humiliating, degrading, hopeless moment in Jesus' life and says: this is the face of God. This is what God looks like. The Lord is not to be found in whirlwinds nor earthquakes nor fire but in the face of the oppressed, the falsely accused, the suffering.

of course, there's a cosmic dimension to it as well. in a sense as it simultaneously lowers the physical stakes to one man, one soul, the Passion is also raising the cosmic stakes tremendously. 'now is the judgment of the world, now is the ruler of this world cast out - and i, when i am lifted up, will draw all people to myself.'

but on the face of it, the idea that it should be this Holy Week that's the crux of the story - not the great flood, not the destruction of Jerusalem, not the apocalyptic terrors of Revelation - is a bit odd, and for that endless fascinating to me.

[lamentingocean]

Sword Demon 7/11 Worker X Rich Reader

•---------------------------‐---------------------------------•

Warning: , pet calling, a bit of NSFW (daily dose of that sweetness) a bit of bullying and stupid fucking customers.

~Work made by Ocean~

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I graduated high school and turned into a billionaire by the time I started my own business. I didn't apply for college at the time since college seems to be a farce to most graduates. most people say that college is hell. but it's an optional school to go to as a young adult. it's a school of hell but also a school of extra learning to survive in life. to most people who don't want to learn to survive life tend to insult school like it's an abusive parent on the internet, while the people who do want to be successful embrace the hardship, and stress that school has. I have nothing against those kinds of people, but I developed a superiority complex to my immense wealth. It really isn't a problem to me since I choose to post as a threat to most rich people around my area.

you know what I hate the most...? The kind of people that have their entire eating cycle around a convenience store as they don't know how to get a pack of Mac and cheese and just make a meal instead. I eat steak while all these other commoners eat canned pasta that is probably processed in a factory, giving you cancer the best that it can. I hate those kind of people.

Eating at fancy restaurants is one thing but seeing homeless people rob a store for a pack of gummies is hilariously pathetic to me as a rich person with a million dollar house, a expensive car, and even butlers to serve under me. so I had a bit of a curiosity attack in my mind.

I wanted to walk into those convenience stores and eat a small meal. to see into the eyes of what these commoners eat to mince their hunger into nothing but bites. Ravioli, chips, 7/11 pizza, and breakfast items. this is so curious to me as a rich person that I might consider living a normal life instead of giving myself a terrible impression around people. To think I'm a "snarky, cocky, money bathed, selfish brat" these commoners probably eat good. or they eat terribly. it's hard to tell what people eat these days to stay alive. nobody wants to die from starvation. so I go to my car. it opened automatically if I pressed a button of its very own app.

and then the doors open by themselves. that's crazy. I need to explore how these commoners live in terms of food. So.. I drive to this nearby 7/11 just for an experiment. I pull up, open the door to automatically get the musky sound of a dirty mop, freezer frost, and cardboard pizza heated up. my nose scrunched in disgust to the smell. I also wasn't used to the expansion of cancer snacks. a monotone sounding voice shook me to the core while I was looking at the drinks. it's a gray haired man with a scar.

sleep-deprived, looks like he hates his job, but also.. really attractive with his small beard right on his chin. but I also see a woman with a boy who looks seven years old. I kinda look ridiculous with all this fancy fit on. I grabbed a small drink with alcohol until a shrill scream shook me. AGAIN.

it's the kid crying to her mom about his obsession with hot wheels and the mom arguing to that attractive looking guy. "I want my money back! how dare you insult my child just because he wanted a free toy from the store..this is discrimination!"

"Lady. your child literally came to me ill-mannered and ORDERED me to give him a free toy. this isn't discrimination. this is bad parenting idiot." her gasp rumbled the entire earth to that blunt response.

acting like her parenting style is made of the stuff of legends.

"I will be suing! He's only a little boy growing up to be a fine young man with proper education. you should treat him with respect!"

"Lady... does it look like I give a damn. get out of the store if you are so angry about your ill-mannered child geez. I have a lot of my mind anyway."

she left with such an aroma of anger. while I snickered in the back after what happened. meanwhile, all I see in the candy aisle is nerds gummy clusters, reeses, m&ms, peach gummies. My eyes start to shine at the vast expansion of the amount of candies that present themselves in front of my very eyes. I slowly grasp my hand to the peach gummies since I can imagine the sweet, sugary powder of this sweet treat. the price is 4 dollars in total. It's like I explored a whole other world while i was stuck being my isolated richness. I guess it isn't that terrible as I make it out to be in my own mind. once I finished reminiscing at all these delicious looking candies. I've come to pay at the cash register to this guy with a dirty work apron on. what a way to greet a new customer. so I need to inflict some revenge onto him just for a dirty apron to my rich fur coat made by the most beautiful animals in the world. I threw my items at his face until it fell right in front of the register, smirking at how his expression didn't change a bit. his emotionless state is like glass art, beautiful but simply hard to shatter. he spoke in words with a small drop of irrationality.

"Will that be all for today, ma'am/ sir..?" my voice spoke in a snotty accent, trying to get him mad a little but also see who you really are just by the physical appearance, I whip out 5 dollars from my pocket, feeling underwhelmed how a mere 5 dollars can be in the hands of a millionaire. I gave it to him with an evil smirk spreading across my face like the smile movie. "Yes, dirt-bag." I scan his movements, watch, and analyze as he checked out the items just for the price to pop up on a small screen right at the top of the register. my eyes rose up to look at his sleep-deprived eyes that can even make an energetic person sleep in a matter of seconds. it riled me up a bit just by glancing at them for seconds and seconds until my voice spoke up again in that same snotty accent.

"Hey...can I get your number...?"

"why."

"Just to see how embarrassing you are to desperately have ME as a friend. It's probably for money. are you really that stupid?"

his eyes rolled in a small growing bit of annoyance in his mood, talking back to me in his normal voice to possibly keep his composure.

"I didn't even do anything."

I can sense he is keeping his composure, I need to strike more personality into him.

"hmph. give me my food shit bucket. you probably have depression do you? acting so emotionless and so dry around people that I can even get a bit tired of talking to you. you probably have a sad life. how unfortunate.."

I threw the 5 dollar bills right in front of his face and then snatched the items back to my hands. snickering at his annoyance since I can sense it from afar. but something he did surprised me to the bitter core. He took out a small piece of old recipient paper from an old restaurant, wrote his number on it, and gave it to me without a single care in the world. I guess my strike didn't work against him. I was reminiscing about it so bad that his next words made me flinch out of that reminiscent space I was trapped in for the last 20 seconds. "Call me if you want something. I don't give a shit if you are a rich person. a friend is a friend. got it..? Good."

That genuinely made me brush a period of blood red, I stared at him for a couple of seconds before he could go to the back to talk to his manager. my eyes kept aiming at his body and his face. his gray eyes with eye bags... his luscious thin body, his scar.. I was having so many dirty thoughts about a person I just met that I started to scream so loud like a idiot. I think he liked me too? does he? or does he not or just did it for trickery? either way.. I want to go home and think about this a little more. Is this love at first sight?

I drive home after a lot while overthinking. to be honest, overthinking isn't a fun thing to have. especially when you think of the worst-case scenario when it comes to certain inconveniences that happened small. I started to believe that having all this power or having all this money is nothing compared to a normal aesthetic life getting crepes to eat on a food market street. using money to boost happiness. people say that money can't buy happiness.

that's a goddamn lie. if you can't buy roses for your girlfriend, then what is she supposed to be happy about when she is met with no gift on a first date with a lover. money does buy happiness. money is control, money is everything to us. dispite money being the dirtiest thing on earth. money is also an evil addictive subtance as well that can destroy multiple people's lives with it. There is no doubt that it can. but all of this money I have isn't worth it.. After exploring a convenience store for the first time in my life. I actually had a different feel of life. I know it isn't that serious, but it is. I actually want to experience the life that you can have a gaming pc and a small kitchen, but you can enjoy that type of lifestyle.

my overthinking is getting worse. I arrive home to automatically grab my phone and type in that man's number. Once I got done. I texted him immediately.

Me: Yo. are you here dirt bag or are you wallowing in depression?

maybe I shouldn't be too harsh, but it's so fun to bully a commoner a little bit. I waited for 3 and a half minutes just to send a dry text back like I'm his buddy.

Sword demon: No, Im not. what do you mean, bruh?

Me: Why did you give me your number in the first place, pukey pig?

I was honestly really curious to see what he's going to say. God, why am I so invested in only a convenience store worker? it's like putting a sex drug onto someone's drink and then they want the fuck any man they see in their vision.

Sword demon: I was simply invested in you, too. You are too predictable. I can literally sense that you were trying to get me mad idiot.

Me: Who are you calling a idiot?! Packaged Ramen eating emo.

my blush couldn't leave my face. my hands were trembling like a vibrator to his "investment into me." I was heated but also melted into the ground to that words.

Sword demon: Do you want me to come over or something? send me your address, yk rich people aren't that hard to find around these parts.

Me: why?"

Sword demon: I can bring roses if you want..

Me: pfh as if you have the money to buy roses for me you lousy pet-

Sword demon: im being serious.

my blush grew more red, red, and red, reading his messages 5 times in a row.. but eventually, I gave in and typed in my address.

Sword demon: I can even bring chocolates.

Me: Are you trying to flirt with me? It isn't for money... right?

Sword demon: no. I wouldn't do that. I'm not money hungry. I just need it to survive.

Me: Fine. just...bring some chocolates.

I was opening up to him a little since I kept being mean to him for no reason. for some reason. I can't bring myself to hate a commoner like him, but I'm pretty sure love can't always be based around a person's life. He suddenly got offline just to come to me. but if that's the case. I started to be a blushing mess to his approach.

it took many minutes to waste precious time overthinking about one man, so I decided to shower for it. my mind is so scrambled for a guy I just met. a rich person doesn't waste their time upon people, so why am I so vulnerable? just an employee in a small food store, so it's annoying to think about. my body is being cloaked with soap due to my mind being drizzled by the hot water. my mind is bubbling due to the amount of thoughts I had in one day. my naked body started to have an entire sex thought rampage over this man. I stared at it even more, having hallucinations of having his body against mine in the shower as we make out, fucking, and just sucking him off.

I fell on the floor, having soap get in my eyes just enough to snap me out of my overthinking sexual mindset. it's so weird. but eventually, I stood up to apply my perfume on my skin and put on my fancy clothes just to look good. I always look good for people. maybe im just a people-pleaser. I went down to my kitchen to grab a cake to eat in my free time, I hear the doorbell ring and my face sparked in happiness to see this man bringing me chocolates for just killing off my loneliness.

I ran to open the door and there he was. a box of chocolates on his right hand, a fresh set of roses on his left hand, and that same dim emotionless expression in his face. but for some reason. I didn't even try to bark at him with my attitude as my spit. trying to take note of a feral dog. it didn't piss me for some reason. I was actually happy about his appearance right in front of me. It's not because he's attractive, but his calm, cold aura is starting to comfort me a little.

"I was trying to decide if you do want the roses. it's probably too blunt or rude of me. But I also couldn't decide what kind of chocolates you like so I just got the expensive kind. for your taste.."

he had the heart-shaped box full of little small chocolate bites. I could see the price tag on there having an estimated cost of 300 dollars. and the roses weren't fake either. they weren't roses fished out of a grocery store. they were real because of the thorns and the lingering scent seducing my nose to smell them even more. and that completely broke my avoidance for him.

I suddenly hugged him right in the chest, with the way he was looking when I slowly squeezed his body. He was surprised, and that broke his emotionless state to other people. A small, genuine smile started to grow on his face as he hectic towards laying his hands on my body. He slowly put the stuff down and wrapped his arms to my waist. His touch is soft but a bit hard at the same time. his scent is kinda like a mix between lilac and soft vanilla with a hint of slight cologne. and his arms were strong but tender. my head slowly grasped to look up at him, sliding my face across his chest to look at him. his smile made my heart get crushed by the God cupid himself.

his breath is so warm, and our eyes directed at each other in such a close range. even I saw a little blush stare to form on his face when my own face moved closer to his. I kept losing it to him for the entire day, and now I'm completely losing my own attitude directly in front of him. it's like revealing an intimate side to myself that didn't even know existed. but also soon as I flipped back to reality again.

I pushed him off and grabbed the gifts a stupidly rude way. "You are now my pet. you must do what I say, or you won't be coming back here ever again."

"I don't know. It seems like you were into me for a second...are you? I won't mind if you are attracted to me. for real..I really wouldn't mind."

"No! No. I was just...directing my attention to you from a TV show."

"Sureeee..."

my face turned a bubblegum red again to my next words, and my own mind betrayed me into saying this.

"Do you...want to watch a movie and share chocolates together..?"

"Sure. Why not?"

(Sweetest x reader I wrote in a while, that's for sure)

[belphegor1982]

The thing with jigsaw pieces is that they’re vulnerable from all sides when they’re scattered.

(Missing scenes/snapshots of Chozen, Daniel, Amanda, Sam and Johnny in between “Extreme Measures” and “Ouroboros”.)

So it only took me two or three months (lol) but I wrote another fic! Or rather a collection of six ficlets, starting with this one, because I had a couple of ideas burned in my head after 5.05 and 5.06. I’ll be posting the next one in a few days!

Jigsaw Pieces

Chozen, uneasy

Daniel, adrift

Amanda, sleepless

Sam, shaken

Johnny, fixing things

Daniel, not alone

Chozen may have made a mistake.

He is used to making mistakes and admitting them, though he wasn’t always. A man who says he never makes mistakes is a liar. As he got older, though, he likes to think he got a little wiser, at least enough to recognise some ideas are bad ideas and should be avoided at all costs.

Daniel-san has been gone ten minutes, and already Chozen is starting to think he shouldn’t have let him go back to Stingray’s house alone.

Of course Stingray is no threat on his own, that much was obvious earlier. And of course Daniel-san would go back to apologise, because no matter how rattled he was, how short-tempered and angry and aggressive he ended up being towards Stingray, at his core Daniel LaRusso has a kind heart that not even Terry Silver can corrupt completely. This Chozen has learned plotting and fighting side by side with him for weeks, even if in hindsight it was already obvious over thirty years ago, when they were young. Chozen despised him then for that kindness then, laughed at him for being weak and soft, and then hated him for risking his life when Chozen himself could only run and hide… And then he showed a mercy Chozen thought at the time to be the cruellest of acts when Chozen, trembling, furious, conceded defeat and expected – demanded – death.

Now Daniel-san is the one who has conceded defeat. The cost of his war against Silver became too high; Silver poured poison into his mind, blew on the embers of doubt until even his family left, wary of the fire, and if the shadows under his eyes and the set of his shoulders are any indication, it’s taking a toll on his health, too.

He even apologised to Chozen earlier for “wasting his time”, as though helping a friend in need and fighting for the honour of Miyagi-Do wasn’t worth crossing any ocean for, as though Chozen hasn’t let him down in this when he swore they would see things through together. As though his uncle Sato wasn’t closer than a brother to Daniel-san’s Mr. Miyagi before love and resentment drove a wedge between them for forty years, a feud that almost ended in tragedy.

As though Sato hasn’t passed onto his nephew the four hundred years rich history of Miyagi-Do karate along with a rough, understated love, just like Miyagi passed his family’s karate onto the boy he had come to love as a son.

“Our senseis had the same sensei, we’re basically karate cousins,” Daniel-san had said last year with a smile, eager to learn more, even as his old enemy outwardly sneered at the idea of teaching a foreigner some of the most sacred secrets of Miyagi-Do.

Which… hadn’t been completely an act.

But Daniel-san passed Chozen’s test. Chozen passed his own secret test, and finally got his chance to show mercy in turn. The look of terror on Daniel-san’s face shifting into absolute confusion had been the icing on the cake.

And when Daniel-san, rubbing life back into his limbs, panting and a little shaken but wide-eyed and grinning, had asked, “Can you teach me?”, Chozen’s nod and proud smile had been one hundred percent genuine.

Unfortunately, some defeats hurt more than others.

Fifteen minutes. Chozen has already checked his bags twice.

His eyes fall on the newspaper clipping that put them on Stingray’s trail this morning, the address and the word LIAR in bold letters. Even with the evening traffic, Daniel-san must have arrived by now, replacement video game console in hand, and Chozen doubts he’ll stay very long. He’ll probably be back in twenty minutes, plenty of time to drive Chozen to the airport. And then, somehow, send word to Silver that he’s backing out of the war.

Except…

Would Terry Silver even accept a white flag? So far, he hasn’t struck Chozen as the kind of man to accept defeat of any kind. Part of the philosophy of the Way of the Fist is to do everything, go to any lengths, to win. Not just beat your opponent, but destroy your enemy – surrender is not enough. And while Chozen has nothing but contempt for the concept of Defeat does not exist in this dojo – sometimes losing and accepting that loss helps put things into perspective – something else nags at his mind that he can’t quite put his finger on.

Chozen reviews all of his interactions with Silver, at his dojo, at his home, at the country club. The way the man smiled even as he prodded and picked at his adversary, like Daniel-san was a mouse and he a cat, to discard his toy when it no longer entertained him and not a moment before.

It’s doubtful, to say the least, that he’ll accept Daniel-san’s surrender now. He took too much pleasure dismantling him. And when better for a cobra to strike than when the enemy is already down?

Still holding the scrap of paper, Chozen reaches for his phone and opens the Uber app.

If he’s being paranoid he can always apologise later.

______________________

...It’s super short, I know. The next one is longer, and then the next one longer than that, etc. I hope you like them!

[sashi-ya]

𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒙 𝑽-𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 Crema Catalana 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰. 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Dear, @sanjisprincesswifey your 𝑬𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆́ bonbon is filled with 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒂 𝑪𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒂, please enjoy the taste of 𝒑𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒄 𝒔𝒆𝒙

request: @sanjisprincesswifey asked: hiii sweet sashi! for your valentine's day event may i request bon-bon enchanté with sanji and a female reader, please? thank you so so much, i'm so excited for this event! tw:public sex. sanji fucks you in front of a whole party of influential and rich assholes on a valentine's night party of swingers. oral sex. food play. fingering. I'm well aware Sanji isn't such a dominant man, but I wanted to try it for this fic and I kinda like him this way :3 (see how I used his surname? it's for the Germa vibes you guys)| wc: 1.8k | masterlist

Not everybody has a valentine's day date. Not everyone, you don’t. And he doesn’t either.

The chef, blond and refined, a man that looks like a prince, shows the guests delicious chocolate creations. Bonbons and truffles, filled with sweet, spicy, and even salty cores. When the women try them, the juices of those little bombs drip so tempting on their lips.

Your body reacts to everything around. You’ve been hired for this event to perform some kind of guest receiver. You weren’t specifically told about what the gathering would be about, but, you were told it was for the pure, sinful entertainment of influential couples… Your attire, all black, shiny... You were asked to wear tall latex boots too. Lips red, long lashes…

Soon, you understand. A swingers party? Perhaps even worse.

“Lady, where are the rooms?” a rich man asks, laughing with a much young girl trapped by his old arm around her waist. You swallow. She doesn’t seem to be disgusted like you are. Nor his obvious wife, all over a young, tanned man.

You smile. Force a smile. “Sure, allow me to guide you” you mumble, pointing with your whole hand to the back of the main floor.

As you start walking, feeling the intense stare of the four of them on your ass, your guidance gets interrupted. “Wait, daddy! I want some chocolate first!” the young lady chimes, pulling the man that reminds you of a pig in a suit towards the blonde’s chef.

You follow them, after all, there was anything that interested you the most than meeting that blonde delight of a man.

With refined gestures, and quick pauses to clean a little drop of blood falling from his nose, he receives you five. “Sweet jesus, what a beautiful mademoiselle! I think I have the perfect bonbon for such a beautiful princess” he says, acting like a total gentleman but taking quick looks at you.

You stand behind the couples, waiting in silence but peaking with interest to his milky white hands give the women the chocolates on a little napkin.

“And for you, my sweet lady in black… would you like to try my most delicious creation yet?” he says, making you widen your eyes. At first you look behind you, but soon you realize he is talking to you.

“Me?” you ask, pointing at yourself. “I’m from the staff- I’m not sure if I’m allowed to” you mumble, because you are sure this is no part of your job.

The chef laughs. “Me, Chef Vinsmoke Sanji gets to decide who is worthy of tasting my creations and what best than the most beautiful woman in this whole party?” he says, making the guests a little angry, leaving the spot annoyed.

You try to stop them, but you don’t really try hard. You really wish to stay with him.

“Leave them, soon they’ll be too drunk to even perform in bed as it should be done. Please, try my Enchanté”  he says, handing you the tiny little chocolate dome for you to bite it.

You nod; the blue of his only visible eye reminds you of a calm ocean and the soft touch of his hands of the velvet graze of a summer breeze.

The moment the dark chocolate gets to your lips you can already feel energized and a little dizzy. How comes that just the taste on your tongue gets to be so intense?

You bite it; the crunch sound gets followed by a sugary, creamy texture invading your tongue. It tastes like vanilla, a little hint of cinnamon and definitely brings you the idea of passion. “Mmmh this tastes deliciously!” you chime, closing your eyes in pure ecstasy. It’s not a strong flavour, but rather a delicate caress to your taste buds.

“I knew you will like it!” Sanji says, coming closer to you with his handkerchief and a sweet smile. You watch him reach the commissure of your lips and wipe just the tiny little spot of cream left from how filled the bon bon was.

You look down in embarrassment, but he is absolutely happy of having done such movement. “Have you been to Spain, dear …?” he asks, because he still doesn’t know your name.

“(Name)… and, no. I haven’t. Why?” you ask.

“Oh, what a beautiful name, (Name)-san! Well, you see, the filling is made out of “crema catalana” a typical dessert there, especially in the region of Cataluña. Does it taste like passion? In my opinion Spain is the country of love and passion”  he explains, coming closer, even more closer than before.

You take a little step back; his aura is a little bit strong but definitely warm. Like a man you know can break you but is still a sweetheart.

“I see… and yes, it did taste like passion, Chef Sanji…” you whisper, this time taking the risk of coming closer to him. “Could I have another taste?”

Sanji’s pupil gets absolutely dilated. He gasps, his pale lips separate. And a little curl garnishes his lips as he slightly smirks. A smirk you imitate, placing your hand over his forearm.

You don’t exactly know if it’s the people around you making out freely or the flirtatious whole intention of the party. Or maybe people fucking on the rooms that surround the main hall of that luxurious venue… but you don’t want to stop passion...

“It would be a pleasure, (Name)-san” Sanji tells you, taking his index to your cupid’s bow. “Wait for me right there…”

He stretches to the table and picks another bonbon. Taking it to your lips, a simple look and you obey to his unspoken order. Opening your mouth, your receive the little chocolate in your tongue.

“Don’t bite until I tell you, ok?” he says, looking around as people begin to round you two. You may have not noticed, but your sexual tension is making everybody attracted to the start of an erotic gourmet show.  “Look around, (Name)-san… don’t you want to help me show how good my creations are? Can you please bite this now?” he says, leaving “Enchanté” in between your front teeth.

You smirk and do as he tells. Soon the same vanilla flavoured cream oozes out and drips from your lips to your chin. Sanji lets the filling keep falling down your neck until your cleavage and just there -trying to stop the little red drop coming from his nose- he uses the tip of his tongue to clean you from it.

“The taste is even better mixed with your skin” he murmurs, softly taking his hand to your neck to stretch it out.  “What does it taste like, (Name)-san? Tell the audience, please” this time he says it louder for the public to hear.

You swallow what’s left of the bitter taste of the dark chocolate. “Like passion, Chef Sanji” you purr, as he turns you around delicately to show your raptured face to the audience.

“Passion you say? Is that so? And how it makes you feel?” he mumbles, taking his hands to the zipper in the middle of your dress, as it slides so easily because of the latex texture of your clothes. “Does it make you wanna have more, and more? Does it make your inhibitions to be forgotten? Does it make you feel hot? Are you hot, (Name)-san?”

You smirk, allowing him to pull down the zipper to free your nudity in front of a crowd that had succumbed to a sinful place that’s not hell, but looks more like heaven.

“I’m hot, Chef Sanji. I want more, Chef Sanji…”  you whine, feeling the dampening reaction of your core getting excited. Never in a million years you would have thought you loved to be watched, but as Sanji said… indeed, that flavour wants you to forget all inhibitions…

“Show me then, what you wanna do…” he whispers in your ear, taking a quick trip to your pink panties from behind.

You let him kiss your neck and play in between your folds, giving everyone the filthiest of the shows. Your moans and whines get many couples to enjoy the show with great pleasure, others who had had enough have already gone to their rooms to unleash the same passion as you two.

And, Chef Sanji is not satisfied with your shaking limbs as your climax approaches because of his fingering motions… no, he isn’t. “Dear (Name)-san, would you like to be my best creation yet? Can you please sit on my table and spread wide open those delicious thighs of yours?”

You moan and nod. Quivering legs take you to the table behind you. He helps you sit over the cold surface of granite and presents you as another of his ingredients. Sanji’s fingers bury in your thighs, and he helps you take of your panties and spread your legs as widely as possible.

“Behold the best ingredient ever created by God… a woman’s body” he announces, showing the rest your spread anatomy. You are presented to the world, dripping and so ready for something else. People clap at your steamy core; you are there to be shown like a work of art. And after all, that’s exactly what you are.

Sanji plays with the litmus slippery products of your arousal in between his fingertips. He looks at the strings forming, he shows them to the rest and then as if he was tasting a cream before using it on a dessert, he takes his fingers to his mouth.

“Ah… perfect! You are totally becoming my main ingredient (Name)-san!” he says, kneeling right in front of you. “And for that I need to study your flavour a little bit longer”

His lips touch your entrance, his tongue your folds. He goes up, down, sucking on your clit too. His thumb in and out, hitting a special spot. Your fingers become white from clenching to the table underneath you.

You throw your head back, the scent of sex mixed with dark chocolate invades your nose, the soft murmur of the people around gets to your ears… but nothing matters the most than the orgasm that hits you and Sanji’s grunts as he drinks your release drop by drop…

“Thank you so much for joining us tonight! Please, don’t forget to choose “Enchanté” when asking for sweets tonight. Remember this is just a little show of what my sweet creation will lead you to feel like” Sanji stands and opening his arms he announces the show’s finale.

The blonde turns around with a pleased smirk as the many applauses fade with the loud music and the steamy atmosphere of the party. “Now, would you like to finish things up with me in one of the rooms, dear (Name)-san?” he asks, helping you stand up.

“It would be a pleasure, Chef Sanji…”

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Do you know of modern versions of deal with the devil fairytales/folktales?

Hmm, if you mean modern media inspired by those type of folktales, I’m afraid not. My interest lies with the folktales much more than modern fantasy! But if you mean “modern folktales”… Possibly my favourite fairy tale about a deal with the devil is a literary fairy tale written in 1965 by Dutch writer Godfried Bomans. I’ll try to do it justice in a retelling, it’s called The Stolen Heart:

There once was a fisherman who was rich in family but lacking in almost everything else. He and his wife lived in a little house by the sea. They had six children and one more on the way, but the fisherman barely caught enough fish to feed them all.

Since he loved them all very much it hurt him terribly to see them hungry. And one evening when he had caught even less than usual, he sighed: “If only I was able to catch more.”

“That can be arranged,” a voice behind him spoke, and the fisherman saw the voice belonged to a richly dressed nobleman who was blowing on his hands as if he was freezing cold. “Sell your soul to me and you will be rich beyond belief. All you have to do is breathe into my mouth.”

The fisherman considered this and while he did so a chill wind touched his face. “Then you are the devil,” he replied.

The nobleman stopped smiling. “Sell me your soul and you will be rich beyond belief.”

“Alright,” the fisherman relented and he did as the nobleman instructed and exhaled his breath into the mouth of the stranger. The very moment he did so he felt a coldness in his chest where his heart ought to beat. “What have you done with my heart?” he asked, frightened.

The stranger smiled. His cheeks were no longer pale. “In ten years you may see me again if you wish it, but you won’t wish it. I thank you.” And with that he jumped on his horse and rode off.

The fisherman could do nothing but roll up his nets and go home. But the net that had been empty before, now hid an oyster within the mesh, and in that oyster a giant pearl. The fisherman hurried home, but when his wife embraced him she startled because he felt cold as ice. The fisherman did not mind her, however, and told her to fetch the mayor.

He traded the pearl for a piece of land. It was a miserable little plot, but the first time the fisherman dug into the ground he found a chest full of treasure. This treasure he brought to the king and it bought him three ships, each with a crew one hundred strong. They set off in a merchant’s fleet, but tragedy struck. The fleet was destroyed in a terrible storm. Only the fisherman’s ships returned with their cargo of grain.

Now there was famine in the country, because the fleet had been lost, and the fisherman sold his cargo at ten times the price. Now he was truly rich beyond belief. He bought the royal palace to live in, because even the king had grown poor, and he sat on the sunny balcony listening to the starving people begging below. But he would give them nothing, because they could not pay.

This became too much for the King and he told the fisherman the people would die if nothing was done.

“What do I care?” the fisherman spoke. “I want for nothing.”

For the first time in his life the old king grew angry and he cried out: “You know what is wrong with you? You are heartless.”

The fisherman grew pale. “How do you know that?”

“Even a child can see it!” the king replied. “You laugh while the people starve in the street. It’s as if you’ve sold your soul to the devil.”

Now the fisherman grew as white as a sheet. “How do you know that?” he repeated.

The king startled. “You do not mean to say you truly sold your soul?”

“Yes,” the fisherman replied. “That is why I sit in the sun all day. I am cold.” And he took the king’s hand and placed it on his chest.

The king hastily drew back. It was like touching ice. The king, shaken to his core, ordered the fisherman to leave. He made a proclamation that the man who sold his soul was not to be harmed and that his leftover grain would be divided amongst the hungry.

Now everyone knew what the fisherman had done. He wandered from place to place, but everywhere the people fled from him. And no matter how much gold he offered, no one would give him bread or board. At last he remembered his wife and children and returned to his little house by the sea. Not because he loved them, but because he was hungry.

When he arrived he found his wife bent over the cradle, because their seventh child had just been born. But when she embraced him in greeting he pushed her away and when she placed her cheek against his chest she shrank back, because she felt the cold against her skin.

“So it is true,” she whispered. “And I have never believed it.”

“It is true,” the fisherman confirmed and he explained to his wife that they would never again have to worry about money and that once the people had gotten used to him, they would get whatever they wanted.

“That may be so,” his wife said. “But you no longer love me. And whatever you get, it won’t make you happy.” And she held up his newborn child to him, but all he could do was look at them both with cold eyes.

“You’re right,” he said. “That was the price.”

And so the fisherman lived with his wife and seven children, whom he no longer cared for. The youngest of them grew up strong and merry in spite of his father. When he was almost ten years old, he heard from his siblings what had happened to his father and why he was always cold and quiet. The boy grew to pity his father, so one day he went to him and said:

“Father, is it true you no longer have a heart?”

“That is true,” his father answered. “That was the price.”

“Do you not long to have it back?” the boy asked. “Do you want me to fetch it for you?”

“I don’t want anything,” his father replied. “How could I?”

“The ten years have almost passed,” his son said. “You could see him again, if you wished it.”

“How could I want or wish for anything? I have no heart for longing with.”

So the boy turned away from his father and prepared for a journey he did not know the length of. Then he hugged his siblings and kissed his mother and went to speak to his father one last time. But his father would not shake his hand or wish him well, so the boy set off to go to the devil.

He walked and walked, until he reached a place where the people told him there was a nobleman living nearby who had changed so suddenly almost ten years ago. He had always been cold and silent, but suddenly he had become cheerful and talkative. He had grown fond of children, though he had none. And of fishing, though he never worked a day in his life.

“Then he must have my father’s heart,” the boy thought and he set off towards the nobleman’s house.

On the way there he met an old woman, who greeted him kindly and asked where he was off to.

“I am going to the devil,” the boy replied.

“Is that so?” the old woman hummed. “Well, you may do so. He has no power over the innocent. But you must hurry, because tomorrow he is to set off on a journey.”

When he heard that, the boy’s own heart glowed, because tomorrow was the day he was born. The day his father lost his heart. So that had to mean that his father had wished to see the devil again after all, no matter how faintly, and that strengthened his resolve.

He reached the nobleman’s house at dawn and the devil himself opened the door when he knocked.

“Come in,” he said. “You are just in time, for I was about to go visit someone. You look quite like him.”

He led the boy into a large room filled with a rushing sound as if a hundred clocks were ticking all together. But when the boy looked around he saw rows and rows of glass cases lining the walls, each holding a heart that still beat.

“A hobby of mine,” he said carelessly. “Sit down, boy, and tell me, what can I do for you.”

But the boy did not sit. “You are the devil,” he said.

Now the devil sat down, because he knew he had met his adversary. “How do you know that?” he said softly.

“I know,” the boy said. “And I wish to know more. Who do these hearts belong to?”

Never in a million moons would the devil have answered such a question, but suddenly he felt quite weak. The father’s heart beat in his chest and he could not deny the boy.

“Ask something else,” he said.

“No. I ask this.”

The devil could not fight this strange feeling that he had never felt before. He was powerless to stop it. “Fine,” he said. “They are the hearts of the people who sold their soul to me. Now go, because you know too much already.”

“And why do you visit them again after ten years?”

“Ask something else,” he said.

“No. I ask this.”

Again the devil could not resist him. “I have to,” he replied. “After ten years they can get their hearts back, but most of them do not wish it. They have grown too used to me. Now go, because you know too much already.”

But the boy did not go and suddenly said: “Then give me my father’s heart.”

The devil grew pale. “Ask something else,” he whispered.

“No. I ask this.”

The devil looked at him in desperation. That strange, irrepressible feeling grew stronger and stronger and he could not deny this boy anything he asked for. But suddenly he had an inspiration. He reached into his chest, pulled out the father’s heart and placed it onto the table. At once he breathed a breath of relief, because the child’s hold over him had been broken. He looked at him with cold eyes and answered: “No.”

But the boy had already darted forward and snatched the heart off the table. He ran, and he ran as if he had the devil at his heels. Only he didn’t, because the devil didn’t have the heart to go after him.

So all the way home ran the boy, clutching his father’s heart, and he arrived there at nightfall.

“Father! Father!” he cried, running into the house. “I have stolen your heart!” And he placed the heart, that he had carried all the way, back into his father’s chest.

And no sooner had he done this, or the fisherman rose from his feet and wrapped his arms around his son. For the first time in ten years he looked around and saw his wife and children. Tears washed down his cheeks.

“How much you have all grown!” he wept. “And how much I love you all!”

Suddenly he felt the warmth of the flames in the hearth and he smelled the kettle boiling above it. He heard the wind whistle in the chimney and the rain ticking against the windows. Everything was new to him and everything was a delight.

He kissed his wife and he hugged his children and he took his place among them at the table and he could not stop telling them how much he loved them all.

But they do say he loved the youngest most of all. Because he had truly stolen his heart.

-

[Freely translated from “Het Gestolen Hart”, as published in Godfriend Bomans Groot Sprookjesboek, 1975]

[80s4life]

Karma’s A Bitch

Word Count: 2,853

Status: Suggested!

Ask: Hey darl! I was wondering (if it’s ok with you) if I would request a Tallahassee x reader fic? The plot can be whatever you like but if you need suggestions it could be about raiding a supermarket (and of course finding twinkies) or picking rooms in the house or something. Anyway I hope your well x

@: a lovely anon!

A/N: OOOOOHHH! We love ourselves a cowboy, don’t we? (Especially when it’s Woody)

Side-Note: There is an outfit idea below with a tag! However, what you want to wear is 100% up to you! All I did was give you an idea (and to boost everyone’s confidence since I believe any body type can pull it off beautifully!)

Fandom: Zombieland

Relationship: Tallahassee x Reader

Summary: Even if the world ends and all else fails, that doesn’t mean there is no light at the end of the tunnel. For example: living in Bill Murray’s mansion, stealing anything and everything you want without consequences, and never having to work or get up at a specific time ever again. However, there are still factors that remain the same: assholes, zombies, and assholes (again for good measure)

Warnings: language, implied smut/sexual allusions, physical fighting, arguing

Masterlist  Zombieland Masterlist

Taglist: @snapessecretdiary @tangledcopperstrands

{I do not own this gif, credits go to -> @veinsandknuckles​}

Kicking around a rusted tin can, you feel the urge to argue; having been so bored and angry for months now causing you to get antsy. “Maybe if your short legs could carry your ass fast enough, we might still have the car,” you smirk, knowing damn well that was going to piss him off.

“Maybe if you weren’t so busy eye-fucking me, we would still have our guns,” Tallahassee seethes, already fed up with your shit.

“Maybe if you weren’t so damn old-” you get cut off.

“I-” Columbus drags loudly, “-don’t suggest you finish that Y/N.”

“Oh no, please Columbus, this has been long overdue,” you glare directly at the back of Tallahassee’s head.

“You better watch it Midget, I’ll fuck you up. There ain’t no law holdin’ me back no more,” Tallahassee warns, but you pay no piece of mind.

“Oh, you’ll fuck me up? That’s rich coming from a miserable old man that ain’t done shit but complain. You just sit there and judge, and bitch, and moan, and groan all. Damn. Day.”

girly to pay attention to anything or even lift a fucking leaf,” Tallahassee heightens his voice to sound more feminine, the act giving way towards the end, going back to his usual raspy tone.

You don’t even know why you’re arguing with him. Maybe because it’s been so long since you’ve been able to relax, or get enough sleep, or have late night outs, or normal shit young horny people used to do in their 20s.

“I help out here more than you do! Fuck, I mean, I’ve gotten Columbus out of harms way more times than you have. Hell, I even saved your ass more times than I could count!”

“Oh you Bitch!” Tallahassee jumps at you.

You don’t hold back either, lunging for him as he tackles you to the ground, wrestling like children. Rolling around across the concrete of the old, cracked street. At some point, you think you have the upper hand, smirking at Columbus over your shoulder. Then, Tallahassee takes advantage, spinning you around, which causes you to smash your head into the ground.

“Ow!” you scream, reaching for his neck in a rage.

He blocks the attempt, grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head, his legs straddling your hips. Face red with anger, you struggle underneath his strength, unintentional heat thrumming in your core. 

“Get the fuck off me, Tallahassee!”

“Not ‘til you call ‘Uncle.’”

“I ain’t callin’ shit!”

“Then I guess we’re stuck here.”

“Guys!” Columbus yells, but you pay no mind, managing to knee Tallahassee in the balls as his head leers in the direction of the scream. Groaning, he lets go in enough time for you to wiggle free, about to tackle him again. 

Columbus, with his eyes peering off in the distance, “Guys! It’s our stuff! It’s the girls! Come on!” 

Giving Tallahassee the stink eye, he reciprocates the gesture, but otherwise you both let up with aggravated huffs. “I’ll show you helpful, Dickhead,” you mutter loud enough for him to hear, running ahead of the group to sneak back up to a seemingly useful parked truck, the engine rumbling calmly in the distance.

Tallahassee follows closely behind, panting as he crouches beside you.

“Don’t have a heart attack on me now, I don’t feel like reviving your ass through CPR or some shit.”

“First off, fuck you. Second off, fuck you twice.”

“Ooooh, good one,” you giggle, turning back around and feeling the ghost of his breath fan against your neck, his body hovering just behind yours to catch sight of what you are looking at. You shiver unconsciously, missing the sensation. 

Ignoring your tumbling thoughts, you motion for Tallahassee to go around the other side as you close in on the car. Nodding, he does as follows luckily and to your amazement. Making your way over to the front of the truck you whisper and count to three, jumping up with slight yells to see who’s in the car. Catching sight of nothing, you almost jump out of your skin when your hear another voice.

“It’s about time you guys showed up, we were about ready to just leave your asses down the street,” states Little Rock, shotgun in hand.

Wichita makes her way out of the apartment complex next, smirking devilishly as she catches sight of a confused Tallahassee. You smile too once you catch him slipping up.

“Shut up.”

“That’s all you got?” you laugh.

“Oh, give me a break, will ya?” Tallahassee groans again, peering at you desperately.

“Come on, there’s some nice houses in Beverly Hills. It’s not too far from here,” Wichita states boredly, placing her shotgun in the driver’s seat through the window while pulling out the car keys from underneath the front wheel.

“So we're a team again?” you ask exasperatedly, slightly taken aback.

She, in turn, doesn’t give you a reply, unlocking the car door and turning the ignition, “Get in,” she grits.

Snorting in disgust, you look over at Tallahassee, he seemingly having already been staring at you. You gesture in her general direction, and with a simple once over, he points to the back seat. Face dropping, you look him dead in the eyes before grabbing the door handle, only for Wichita to lock it.

“No, you two get in the back. I’m not going to listen to you two bitch.”

“Like putting us together is gonna do any good?” Tallahassee scrunches his nose.

“Listen, I don’t fucking like you too much Old Man, so get in the back before I leave you here.”

Flipping her off just in the right direction for her to catch you in the left-side mirror, you mouth ‘fuck you’ before not so gracefully hopping on the truck bed.

Columbus, after watching from afar and doing a series of stretches, jogs over and steals the passenger seat, which Wichita allows. Tallahassee and you quickly take notice to the freedom, but otherwise ignore her. For now. Little Rock sidles into the backseat with a huff, and then lays a possessive hand over the guns laced there, having scored quite a hefty amount in the neighborhood.

///

The car ride was mostly silent, somehow actually getting into a comfortable conversation with Tallahassee. He really wasn’t a bad guy once he let his ego slip, giving way to the real boy underneath. If you were going to admit one thing to yourself, it was that Tallahassee was, in fact, hot as hell, but otherwise, so was his aura, voice, demeanor, and personality. It was quite the confusing mix of emotions the man elicits, especially once you forget about him as a person and remember his bitchy and childish attitude when something he doesn’t like happens.

Jumping off the truck, Wichita makes sure that your finger was returned, an added sway in her hips as she steps directly in front of you, up to the front door.

“I’m tellin’ everyone right now, if you see me go feral on her ass, no one be surprised. I ain’t gonna put up with this ignorant behavior and using us kinda shit. You got that, Wichita?” you state, heat trickling up to your face as anger threatens to overrule her self righteous ass.

Nodding weakly, you quickly see her pissed expression soften. Perhaps she’s realized her ways and put herself in my shoes?

“Ya know, your kinda sexy when your angry,” Tallahassee giggles, whispering in your ear so no one else could hear his attempts, the scruff of his chin lightly poking at your ear lobe. Another shiver brings a coat of goosebumps up to your skin as your choice of words are quickly lost on you.

“Let’s look around,” Columbus says, having walked around some of the grand rooms at the entrance of the mansion you’d wandered into, and you almost wanted to thank him. 

The mansion was beautiful despite the current environment and “living” organisms roaming the world currently. Breaking off into groups, Columbus and Little Rock walk around the first floor, Wichita walking around the opposite end of the younger two. Tallahassee started walking behind Wichita, but realizing your presence wasn’t sensed, he turned around to see you walking straight up to the second floor.

“Hey! Hey, wait Y/N!” he calls, jogging up the flight of stairs to you. “What’cha up to?”

“Well, Nosey, I was gonna go pick my bed before the Princess snatches the sweet. It’s Bill Murray’s place after all, and I want the best room in the house before I get stuck with a shitty ass mattress. I deserve it.”

“Well, in that case, so am I. If you think I’m gonna sleep on the couch, you best be mistaken.”

“Whatever Tallahassee,” you mutter, smirking as you could see through his cover-up, leaving the conversation for another time.

Catching sight of the very obvious Master Bedroom, you have a split second to glance at Tallahassee before he’s ttrying to shove you out of the way. Easily, you gather yourself back up and go to push him over this time, and with success, he grabs your ankles to pull you down with him. “Dammit!” you grunt, trying to kick at him as he pulls you towards his body on the floor. “C’mon Tallahassee!”

“I ain’t lettin’ you get it that easily, you call dibs like a proper adult!” he states, pulling your body flush underneath his chest, back squished against the floor as he uses you as padding on his stomach.

“This is childish!” you scream in aggravation, pushing at his face as he threatens to crush you.

“What’s childish is not letting the mature adults have the most comfort!” he is temporarily blinded by your insistent hands.

“Why? So you could die quicker and leave the younger people to sleep painfully as we do the work for you?”

“Oh would you quick pickin’ on my age?! I ain’t that old and still limber enough to bash your ass!”

Heat pools at you inner areas again, causing a blush to quickly flush up at your cheeks. Coughing in an attempt to clear your thoughts, Tallahassee takes the unintentional distraction as an advantage, pushing you on the ground and keeping you there until he is back on his feet and running away.

Scrambling back to your feet, you run after him again, but it’s too late. He’s already opened the door, and made a show at flopping on the bed as you reach the entrance. Groaning, you almost cry in frustration, looking him dead in the eye with his smug grin.

“I win.”

“Yeah... You win,” you say, turning back around and closing the door lightly, not rising any suspicion. If you would’ve slammed it, he would’ve chased back after you, and all you wanted to do was be alone.

Moping around, you find another room, not entirely as huge as Murray’s room, but it was quite spacious, earning you somewhat of a grateful smile as you drop your bag. Exhausted, you allow yourself the reward of kicking off your tennis sneakers, checking some drawers and scoring pajamas. 

With your luck finally turning up, you giggle and jump around just a little bit, pulling out comfy shorts with an adjustable tie and pockets, clean underwear, a sports bra that was just about your size, and a breezy tank top that was open at the sides; the outfit overall providing comfort and a breeziness under the hot California sun. (x)

Placing the outfit on the bed and continuing to mosey about, you spot a Walkman, a choice of gold plated headphones and earbuds, and score your own private bathroom. Smiling happily now, you turn the shower handle to check, hot water pouring out of the shower head and cascading onto the huge granite tub. Taking your time, you take a long, hot shower, basking in a long awaited cleansing with your earbuds in.

After what felt like years, your skin was beat red and warm, fingers shriveled from the moisture and condensation floating about in the bathroom. It had been so long since you were able to enjoy little things like these; being able to just live.

Humming to yourself, you mutter the words to the old rock song as you play around with your hair, placing it into whatever was the most comfortable now that it was clean and somewhat manageable. Caught up with the newest rhythm, you miss the presence of someone other than your own, turning away from the bedroom door in order to strip your towel and gather your undergarments. Pulling on your underwear, you pull the bra over your head, slip your arms through, and then adjust your shorts around your hips.

Finally turning around, you flinch so hard, blood running cold, and eliciting an ear shattering scream. “Tallahassee! You- You- Get out!”

Tallahassee, still dumbfounded, stares in awe before a startled smirk adds to his face, laughing harshly as he lets himself out slowly, stealing one last glance before closing the door with a soft click. 

Your heartbeat pumps loudly in your ears, shock still causing you to stand stock-still for another 10 minutes. Easing out of your embarrassment “gracefully,” you hurriedly pull on your shirt before begrudgingly opening the door back up again. There, Tallahassee stands with his legs crossed, arms folded, leaning up against the copper rails in the hallway just across your room.

Smirking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Tallahassee acts as if nothing happened, “I just wanted to swing by and ask you how you’re settling in.”

“S-So you were worried about me?” you smirk, still flaring with a beat red face full of regret and stupidity.

“Something like that,” Tallahassee admits, letting his focus shift to your clothes, absentmindedly licking his lips on occasion.

“Like what you see?” you giggle, crossing your arms as he straightens back up on his feet.

“Yes, actually, I do, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here, T?”

“I gotta ask you somethin’... Why...” he clears his throat, “Why d’ya hate me?” he finishes the question, looking at his feet for distraction.

You sigh, “I don’t hate you Tallahassee, you hate me. The only thing I dislike is your ego, kind of.”

“I never hated you, Kid, I just didn’t know how to properly live with a young broad like you. And, what did you mean ‘Kind of?’”

“Well, your ego both frustrates and attracts me, to say the least. Your not a total Dickhead,” you smile, “What did you mean by ‘Young broad like yourself?’”

Edging closer to you, Tallahassee breath fans your face, calloused hands coming to rest on your bare hips. “What I meant was a strong, independent woman that constantly makes me run for my money and keeps me hoping for a better future.”

“So...What you’re saying is that you like me just a little bit,” you beam.

“Maybe just a little bit,” Tallahassee chuckles, pulling your body closer, “Do ya like me a little bit?”

“Hell yeah,” you pull him closer to you, closing the gap between yourselves, attaching your lips to his.

Eagerly, he kisses you back fully, hands going up to cup the base of your skull, groaning into the kiss as he tries to gather you up in his arms, not wanting you to separate from him. Passionately, you pull him closer, subconsciously grinding with extra friction. 

 Apparently, with your mouths and bodies preoccupied, you miss just how loud you were becoming, still in the nakedness of the outside world. Your attention finally refocuses with loud gagging noises and a shrill shriek. Columbus quickly covers his mouth, embarrassing himself in front of everyone, avoiding eye contact with Wichita. 

Little Rock, unfazed by the projection of intimacy, she bluntly states, “If you guys want to fuck, do it in private! No one gives a shit what you do, just do it away from everyone else!” she bellows from the foyer.

“And quietly!” Wichita adds with a playful smile, waving you off as she goes back to the indoor theater, bucket of popcorn in hand.

Columbus and Little Rock follow her in tow quickly, leaving you to your own activities. Chuckling again, Tallahassee looks down at you with a naughty swirl in his clear ocean blues, “I’ll show you old, Babygirl.” Without another word, he hefts you up and unto his hips, your legs locking just above his ass, and leading you into your bedroom. With a loud slam and a small click of the lock, he throws you onto your bed. I guess the guest bedroom was better than Bill Murray’s.

[ladyzirkonia]

Thank you Free these questions are just perfect! 😍 I'm so sorry in advance this is gonna be a LONG post.

I decided to talk about these two beauties today, a intense duo from different worlds united by a cause (clone activism, anti-war movement).

Doc (not known under her birth name Jurij Vega) - everything about her here

Robert Zane Weaver better known as Zane Silverstar (no official post yet), rockstar, anarchist and clone right activist. Known in Coruscant for his band Neon Syndicate (with his bandmates a Zabrak and a Togruta) - more later.

How would you describe your OC's voice?

Doc:

Not a direct voice claim but her voice sounds a lot like nightsister Merrin from Jedi: Fallen Order/Survivor. She has a slavic/russian accent, most of the time she tries to hide it (and the fact that she's not from the core worlds) but it breaks out when she get's really angry.

Zane:

I think it's obvious. Keanu Reeves. But not the nice version.

Where did they grow up?

Doc:

On a mining planet in the Outer Rim (similar to the planet in Bad Batch - The Outpost). Her and her brother were orphans, sold to slavers. Doc was always too sensitive and weak for the hard work and survived because her big brother protected her. As her brother died, she had the luck that a Jedi (Master Asano, yes another OC xD) found her and brought her to Coruscant. The branding scar on her face still reminds her of her time in slavery.

Zane:

Rich kid. He grew up in the upper levels of Coruscant. His father was a politician and a big privileged asshole. (Just think about a person like Mon Mothmas husband in Andor) He was always disgusted by all of the filthy rich attitude and politics. When he was old enough he left Coruscant and became a merc.

What would be their ideal weapon in a fight?

Doc:

Doc isn't the greatest fighter. She would be more subtil if she had to eliminate someone. But she's very good with her hands and obviously with a knife too. Normally she just uses it for medical reasons but hey she's a doctor, she knows exactly where to stab you to kill you instantly.

Zane:

Don't let the rockstar image and all the drugs fool you. He was a merc, this man can fight and will kill without any hesitation. He has a blaster that was specially made for him and he almost loves it as much as his dick.

Let's start something fun! 😂 Each Sunday, I'll post three random questions for you to answer for one or more of your OCs. Feel free to link the work(s) they appear in, too! We'll have a little showcase where you might discover someone that piques your interest and voila! Something new to read! 😁 As for the image? Random dude I found on Canva, with so much sass and so much cake that I had to include him. 🤣🙈 And apparently all of this is going to have a 70's vibe, LOL.

How would you describe your OC's voice?

Where did they grow up?

What would be their ideal weapon in a fight?

[rae-writes]

It’s You

Satan x reader

wc : 0.8k

warnings : mentions of blood, brief depictions of war

synopsis : He remembers you.

There was yelling. Ear-piercing screams, angry shouts, betrayal-dripping words. Celestia didn’t look beautiful anymore. Not when there was blood and feathers scattered across the ground, spears and arrows flying, swords clashing. Not now. 

Celestia was hideous right now— disgusting, disgraceful. Standing on the red stained grass had you feeling nauseous until you saw him.

There was a terrifying dark aura surrounding him; emitting from him. There was blood splashed on his face and his tattered clothes, but you knew it wasn’t from the battle. He hadn’t fought. You didn’t recognize him— he was new. 

And maybe you were naive to approach him, but his eyes were closed like he was unconscious and he was new and pretty and you were curious. 

So you slowly bound up to him, hand stretched out to brush against his jaw when you got close enough. You heard your name being shouted by multiple angels, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the man who’d finally opened his eyes. 

They were brilliant, shock green hues. The pupils were mere slits; it didn’t deter you, though. Those pretty pools of green scanned your face while his clawed nails brushed against your hand that was still resting on his jaw. It was a serene moment in the midst of chaos. 

And then he fell. The clouds- the ground- opened up beneath him, beneath the seven brothers who started the war, beneath their sister who was punished for loving, and they all fell. 

-

You fell harshly onto your bottom. There was quiet chuckling from your left and you groaned, “Not funny, Simeon. Next time warn me before you push me through a portal, yeah?” You smiled at Luke as he helped you up. 

“Welcome! I am glad to see you three had a smooth journey.” Lord Diavolo’s smile was polite, with a hint of playfulness at your audible grievances. 

“It’s a pleasure to us all, Lord Diavolo. I’m sure you already know who we are, but I am Simeon, this is Luke, and then Y/n.” 

You smiled at the Lord and his butler, before turning to the brothers you remember so vividly. “It’s been quite some time, boys. Where is Belphegor?” 

Beel smiled sadly, “He’s one of the human world exchange students. I’m sure he would’ve been thrilled to see you, though.” He gave you a big hug like he used to do.

You were practically beaming by the time you reached Lucifer, having greeted all your old friends, “So? I was expecting a more…excited welcome since, you know, Simeon and I are your friends.” 

Lucifer looked at you exasperatedly, but with a twitch of a smile nonetheless. “Yes, welcome Y/n. It’s good to see you.” 

“I see nobody bothered to inform me we were greeting the angel exchange students today.” 

Everyone looked to Mammon, who whistled and glanced away, knowing he had been in charge of informing everyone of the time.

“I am Satan, the fourth born, and the Avatar of Wrath.”

You turned to look at the owner of the rich voice that soothed your ears, eyes widening at the familiarity of said demon. The man- Satan- looked back at you, eyes widening as well. 

He frantically looked over your face, lips parting at the core memory that surfaced to the forefront of his mind. 

He was falling. Why was he falling? Why was he here? Where was he? Who was he? All these questions assaulted his being while his eyes were focused on you : the first thing, and person, he’d laid his eyes on. The wind was cold against his skin, but you had been warm. He wanted to feel warm again. His hand blindly reached out for you, seeking that warmth. The last thing he saw before he lost his newly gained consciousness was your worried face as you were restrained from jumping after him. 

Satan blinked, seeing everyone staring at the two of you from his peripherals. His gaze was focused on you, though; on your familiar eyes. Faintly, he remembered the warmth you gave him and his mouth spoke before his mind could catch up.

“I remember you.” 

You felt your breath leave your lungs at that. You wanted to go to him again, naive as it may still be. Your legs moved, timidly and slowly, towards him. Towards Satan. Warnings of the man standing in front of you waded through your thoughts. 

“That man wasn’t a man. He was a demon, born of disgracefulness.” — You didn’t think being born of anger stemming from the love a brother holds for his sister was disgraceful. 

“Demons are ugly creatures, appearing as beautiful only because they want to manipulate you.” — You didn’t think a being who had just coalesced could’ve manipulated you in that split second. 

“He’s the brother of those traitors.” — They weren’t traitors. The Angels were wrong. 

“Forget about him, young Y/n. You’ll never see him again so it’s best to just get him out of your mind.” — Michael was wrong. 

Your hand brushed against his jaw, just like before. “You remember me.” You smiled, staring into those same beautiful green hues, “Hello again, Satan.” 

Your touch was warm. He missed that warmth. “Hello, Y/n.”

[phoenixyfriend]

OKAY so on the topic of Star Wars takes wrt “character ends up in an A/B/O universe where they’re an omega, but they were previously a cis male in their canon”

@atagotiak and I had some Thoughts on discord

So, obviously, Anakin would make a good omega and he’s also incredibly murdery. Foregone conclusion that we're using him for this.

There is no preexisting Anakin in the Omegaverse. He shows up JUST as the war is starting. Canon timeline is in the third year of the war (he’s 22), but whatever dumped him into omegaverse also tossed him back a few years. No de-aging, just a bit of mismatched timeline stuff.

He's... really good at war, and clearly a Jedi, so the Temple just kind of goes "WELL OKAY THEN, SURE, YOU'RE IN, EVERYONE PRETEND HE'S BEEN HERE THE WHOLE TIME." The Jedi, by and large, don't care about omegaverse dynamics beyond 'what do you need, medically, to be happy and healthy' and 'what do you need to be aware of so you can be prepared for biases you encounter in the field?’

None of the civilian natborns (mainly politicians) want to put him on the field because of those biases. Anakin, being Anakin, is VERY blatantly an omega in scent, has never been on suppressants (because it wasn't a thing he fucking NEEDED), is incredibly emotional as a person, loves kids, etc.

Like, nobody wants an omega fighting a war anyway, but THIS one is like PINNACLE omega, and those awful Jedi are making him FIGHT just because he's good at stab!

The Jedi: Actually, it's because he's got several years of war experience that we don't, and he's a good tactician that works well with the clones-- Coruscant: You MONSTERS The Jedi: Look, we gave him the option to not stab and he looked absolutely devastated. Anakin, several days earlier: You don’t want me? I’m not good enough??? Jedi: Also he can beat up at least half the temple.

He doesn't know a damn thing about dynamics, but he DOES know that sometimes he's so horny he wants to stab HARDER. The clones are largely disinterested in their generals' dynamics because between mostly-Mando* trainers and no-dynamic Kaminoans, they only really care if a person can shoot.

* Mandalore approves of Fighty Omegas. As far as (traditional) Mandalore is concerned, you want an omega that will kill the threats to your children as well as you do.

Anakin: You know more about being an omega than I do. Rex: ...I'm an alpha. Anakin: Yeah. Let that one sink in a bit.

We have two options for Obi-Wan!

Omegaverse local Obi-Wan (beta) has never met this man before, and is very unnerved that the immediate default reaction Anakin has to his presence is releasing Family pheromones as if Obi-Wan is his DAD and like. This strange, too-tall man from another dimension has got absolutely NO control over what he projects in the Force OR in his dynamic.

Obi-Wan was ALSO transplanted from canon to omegaverse, and is also an omega, for contrast reasons. He is nice and friendly and and likes poetry and that sort of thing... but also he has the highest dismemberment count in the movies. Also he doesn’t prioritize romance.

We went with the second one because it's hilarious.

Someone watching them spar: Wow, omegas from that universe are terrifying.

As previously mentioned, now with some tweaking to account for both: Obi-Wan and Anakin just straight up don't exist until they drop headfirst into the council room, already covered in blood. (It's mostly not theirs.)

Nobody realizes either one is an omega until they "naturalize" to this dimension and Anakin goes into heat... and doesn't realize it, actually, because his primary symptom is heightened protectiveness and aggression. Everyone else with the right nose realizes, because the man has no control over his pheromone production, but Anakin? No. He just stabs. He’s angry and horny and he will cut someone.

Ahsoka has no reaction to human pheromones but basically everyone smells Anakin's "my child!" reaction to her, so... Cool. Have a padawan, we guess.

Anakin ends up sparring a lot with Aayla and Ahsoka, because only humans and near humans have dynamics, so these two don't REACT to the pheromones situation.

(Palpatine is a Kindly Old Beta who tries to treat Anakin the way he EXPECTS Anakin wants to be treated, which is. Not. Accurate.)

(Anakin hates it.)

I'm just so in love with "An omega can't fight." "You wanna fuckin' bet?"

There are plenty of omega Jedi, by the way, it's just... most of them can keep it relatively low-key instead of Anakin's jet-engine broadcast. Some, if they're known to be omega, probably take advantage of being underestimated, like Obi-Wan probably (and especially a version of Obi-Wan that was always an omega, unlike this version). They have a very different way of presenting themselves than Anakin, who's not subtle about being an omega and also not subtle about being all aggressive and stabby.

At one point, Anakin has to protect some Very Traditional Individuals who get all "Stay back, Omega, it's not safe!" and he's just... so tired of this shit. “You are squishy civilians and I'm a trained Jedi Knight and accomplished GAR General who's killed more people in one sitting than there are in this entire palace. Sit the fuck down and let me do my job.”

It starts making the rounds that Anakin insisted on fighting in person, and the rumors shift from "how dare the Jedi force an omega to fight" and over into things that are deeply hurtful in-universe in the vein of "broken omega" and some people try to say it to his face but like...

He didn't grow up here.

He doesn't care.

Say that to one of his friends and he's going to rip out your spleen, probably, but say it to him and he's just staring at you flatly and asking if that's a negative on getting away from the encroaching battle droids, sir?

"You're rather unpleasant for an omega, aren't you?" [deeply offensive] "I literally could not give less of a fuck about your opinion. Move."

It's not that there aren't omegas that act like Anakin, either, it's just that most of them aren't, you know, Jedi who regularly interact with the upper crust, or capable of his level of destruction. Unbeknownst to Anakin, everyone clocks him as Outer Rim based on his behavior, well before his accent gives him away, and certainly before he mentions he's from Tatooine, because Core Omegas Don't Act Like That.

Someone they meet in a more diplomatic setting says something decently passive-aggressive about how at least Obi-Wan acts more like how an Omega should. Then a battle breaks out for some reason, and... well. Anakin and Obi-Wan cause such a scandal by keeping score of kills in a battle, don’t you know?

Turns out sending Anakin to fight Ventress is great because she keeps expecting him to react a certain way but NO he's here to STAB.

I like the idea that Obi-Wan's favorite opponent these days is Grievous because the cyborg doesn't have a nose, and thus gives zero fucks about dynamics or heats. Dooku is a rich old man who has opinions heavily influenced by Sith Juice Making Him More of a Dick, and the Dathomiri can smell dynamics even if they don't have them, and so they have biases about those things. Meanwhile, Grievous is just there to Kill, and Obi-Wan genuinely appreciates the lack of commentary on his dynamic.

Dooku’s probably an alpha, or a beta who's used the whole "we are more level-headed" thing as one of several angles to keep himself the public face and supreme commander of the CIS.

On to more fluffy things that have less to do with political biases.

There's a lot of "I'm upset that my loved ones don't know me," but also please understand the appeal of Obi-Wan marching up to Quinlan like "Yes, hello, I understand you've been read in on the full situation behind myself and my former padawan. I was close friends with your alternate universe self, which I feel is necessary disclosure before I propose the following: Would you like to join me for my upcoming heat, as I have minimal experience with the dynamics situation and even fewer people I actually trust, and I believe I can put my faith in you to treat it as casually as necessary while still having control and respect for my person."

(The Team is in a fairly safe place to process stuff, but having sudden unexpected changes to your biology has gotta be a little traumatizing, on top of ending up in a universe where none of your friends know you and people have a whole host of unfamiliar forms of sexism to point at you.)

Obi-Wan, who wasn't quite touch-averse but was much more easily overwhelmed by physical contact than Anakin (who craved it), suddenly finds his body switching gears and insisting on cuddles with Trusted Loved Ones, which is.... mostly Anakin, on account of nobody else really knowing him yet. Also Ahsoka, who is aware that she's something of a replacement for her alt-universe self, but Anakin explained it as "I love you so much no matter which dimension I'm in or what you're like, and I'd like to get to know you the way I got know her."

(It's rather eloquent for Anakin. He got Obi-Wan to help him draft up the script for when he pitched taking on omegaverse Ahsoka as a padawan.)

Anakin gets a more intensely sexual heat than 'usual' at one point for Reasons (IDK it could be as innocuous as 'we got better food than the usual rations and my body is reacting to the higher fat content with the belief that it's safer to have a baby now'), which nobody takes a whole lot of notice of because they're in a WAR, and also this is only his fourth one so it's not like he's got a lot to compare it to... except then the predominantly alpha clones can't stop themselves from reacting to the pheromones, mostly by wandering past his door and asking if he needs anything, offering up alpha-scented blankets and stuff for the nest to soothe the hormones, bringing snacks and electrolyte drinks, and like, Anakin is flattered, really, but fuck off please.

(He got a warning from medical a few hours before it hit that it would be different, so he actually does have alpha-scented fabrics to help him out. Apparently that's a thing you can just ask friends for, so he asked Rex if he had anything on hand that he could spare. He now has one of Rex’s recently-used sheets and a bodyglove in the nest.)

(Anakin has no idea how to feel about the nesting instinct, but at least it’s warm.)

Tia asked "Oh hey, who has the scared and horny reaction to his carnage?" and like.

Listen. I'm not saying I've been low-key imagining this as Rex being a very subby alpha who's really into Anakin's whole Thing but...

At one point Anakin gets injured in a way that requires painkillers and he ends up whining to the point of almost crying about the fact that nobody is cuddling him right now in medbay and Kix just gives up and comms Ahsoka to come hug her weird older brother.

And Then There Is Purring.

That’s a Thing Now.

Rex ends up in the pile somehow. He came over to check on Things and ended up yanked in by half-asleep, half-high Anakin, who has a grip like an octopus and no impulse control and is purring like a pod motor while NUZZLING HIM.

There’s a lot of blackmail photos featuring Rex’s very intense blush as he’s cuddled by his commander (giggling at him) and general (clinging like a tooka and rubbing himself all over).

Anakin is deeply offended that ANYONE thinks he'd want to get pregnant by just any old person, NO he needs to fall in LOVE there needs to be EMOTIONAL DRAMA and if Padme won't have him (apparently she's in a relationship and no he's not BITTER) then he'll find someone else to have a whirlwind romance with!

People think Anakin's a slut because he can't control his pheromone production (he has NO practice and for health reasons he can't go on suppressants) so he always smells open and ready for flirtations, which Obi-Wan also has to a somewhat lesser degree (he's older so his body just naturally produces less), and then someone tries to cross a boundary and grabs his ass and ANYWAY Anakin has to now fill out an incident report for breaking a civilian's arm.

Again.

[seita]

the contract girlfriend | semi eita (m.)

˒ pairing: semi eita/reader ˒ genre: angst, fluff, smut ˒ wordcount: 𝟺𝟹𝟹𝟷 ˒ tags: friends2lovers, fake dating, musician!eita ˒ cw: dirty talk, loss of virginity, virgin kink if u squint: sweet talking, pet names, mean girl ex, mutual pining, unrequited love(?), angst with a happy ending, UNEDITED

+ note: this is a collab along with the other writers for the kkc! i would also like to thank @bokutobabie​ 𝖿for her help with this plot bc it was kickin’ my ass.

˖˖ summary: when he was an unknown musician, his girlfriend left him. now that he’s made it, he wants to make her jealous at a fancy party so he can get her back.unfortunately, he asks you to be his fake date. the downside? you have a very real crush on him.

⇦ back to navigation.

collab masterlist!

© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.

“I have a proposition,” is never a sentence you want to hear when you sit down to lunch with your best friend. Especially when that friend is Semi Eita. 

“What..?” you ask apprehensively, taking the cup of coffee he’d obviously gotten to bribe you. You took it regardless, not willing to pass up the offer of free coffee.

“Nana is gonna be at the party this weekend,” he muttered, swirling his fingertips around the rim of his cup. You felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach at his words, “I want you to come and pretend to be my date.”

Just as you’d expected. Not something you wanted to hear.

Nana was Eita’s first love, his first serious relationship, really. They got together when he was fresh out of highschool, the two of them spending almost all of their time together. 

It was when his career as a musician was just beginning, he was playing small gigs and there was nothing really successful. But he was happy. And he thought she was too.

Until she dumped him in favor of a much more famous man. He was a big movie producer and offered her a leading role in an upcoming film. Of course, she took the offer. 

She would much rather be mingling with the rich and famous than be hanging out with “a nobody like him”, as she put it. You remembered the hurt Eita felt, the tears and heartbreak it took almost 3 years for him to get over. 

“Why?” you finally asked with a sigh, “What will that accomplish?”

“Well if she gets jealous, she might want to get back with me,” he grinned impishly, shrugging his shoulders like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You recognized the look in his eyes, one of determination. So you sighed, nodding your head, “Alright, I’ll be your date.”

He beamed, uttering out endless thanks to you as you went on with your lunch until he decided to go back to the studio. He slipped his hat on low, making sure his mask was in place before hugging your goodbye and leaving you sitting alone at the table. 

You sighed, downing the last of your coffee. Your spirits were low; you had no idea what to expect from this party. 

Would she fall for it and run back into his arms now that he had had his big breakthrough and became mainstream? She surely must have known by now; his band was already breaking records, wracking up fans by the thousands, his songs were being played on the radio. 

Maybe now that he was famous enough, she’d actually want to be with him. Not that she deserved him. And he didn’t deserve someone like that, either. He was too good for her, too good to be treated like that. 

You let out another sigh and stood up, grabbing your purse from the back of the chair.

This was going to be painful. You weren’t sure how you would cope with pretending to be his girlfriend all for the sake of him getting back with her. 

Surely your heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

Because as much as you tried to hide it, you were irrevocably in love with your best friend.

The entire getup was supplied to you by Eita; from the jewelry to the dress itself. You felt like a different person. Despite the fact he was your best friend, you hadn’t attended one of the big parties since his band’s breakout single. 

This particular party wasn’t in celebration of his band, but he was invited regardless so naturally he went. He was still enjoying the high life and was getting used to tasting fame. You were glad it hadn’t actually affected his personality. 

“You look nice today,” Tendou complimented with a breezy smile. He was nursing a glass of champagne, which was uncharacteristic to say the least. He had always been more of a whiskey kind of guy.

“Thanks,” you shrugged, “I’m not really a fan of this kind of thing.”

“I know,” he grinned, “You look terribly uncomfortable, that’s why I came over to be such a good pal and keep you company while your darling boyfriend is off galavanting with the people!”

You rolled your eyes, “He’s not my boyfriend, Satori.”

He giggled, taking glee in your embarrassment, “But you wish he was.”

“Are you already drunk?” you raise a brow, making him snicker.

Someone called his name from the crowd and he flashed you a knowing grin, “Eita may be too dim to see it, but the rest of us aren’t!”

You pout and find yourself alone once again. Looking around, you search for your ‘boyfriend’. Suddenly, a heavy arm falls across your shoulders and the familiar scent of his cologne reaches your nose. 

“Hey, babygirl,” he coos, making your heart skip a beat at the pet name. He sounds so fond and you feel yourself smiling before he busts out laughing, shaking his head before letting his arm fall from your shoulders, “That’s just so weird. I dunno if I’ll be able to get through this tonight,” Ouch. “Anyway, Nana just arrived so…” he takes your hand but you can’t bring yourself to smile as you feel the ache in your heart at his words.

If he takes note of your deflated behavior, he doesn’t say anything, merely leading you over to the balcony. You breathe in the fresh air and feel the ache in your chest dull.

“Eita? Is that you?” a perky voice makes you cringe. 

“Nana,” Eita breathes, tugging you against his side as she breaks through the crowd to stand in front of the two of you.

Her smile promptly disappears at the sight of you crowded in Eita’s arms.

“Eita...who’s this?” she asks, a smile returning but you can tell it’s plastic. 

You remembered everything you had gone over with him before the party; the two of you had sat down for a few hours to sort out your story and rules. It had felt like you were making a binding contract with him when you told him no kissing on the lips. It was your only stipulation and you swore you saw a brief downward tug of his lips when you told him before he beamed and readily agreed. 

Maybe you were imagining that disappointment in his eyes too. 

“This is my girlfriend, _____,” Eita introduced, giving your arm an affectionate squeeze.

“Oh,” she gave you a strained smile and held out her hand for you to shake. When you slipped your hand into hers, she gave it a tense squeeze that made you flinch, “I’m Nana, Eita’s ex.”

“I’ve uh…” you cleared your throat and pulled your hand away, “I’ve heard stories about you.”

“All good I’m sure,” she replied flippantly before setting her sights on him once more, “We should totally catch up, you know? Reminisce about the good old times~”

The sultry, flirtatious undertone made your skin crawl. Even if you weren’t really dating, she thought you were and for her to not respect that made you angry. But still, Eita pulled away and placed a kiss against your temple that set your heart ablaze.

“Sure, why not?” he grinned and gave your hand a squeeze, “You go have some fun, sweetheart. I’ll catch up with you later.”

You gave him a hollow wave as he quickly vanished into the crowd without a second glance your way. You knew this was the end goal but still, to see him walking away hurt. A sense of rejection was seeded within you and you felt your spirits slowly being crushed. 

It took all your power to continue on with the party until it felt acceptable to leave. Throughout the party, you kept getting glances of the two of them. 

Eita wore a serene smile, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her. Whenever she looked at him with a flirtatious smile and a subtle caress, you felt jealousy pool in the core of your stomach. You wanted to march over there and scream “he’s mine!”. But you couldn’t, because he wasn’t really yours. 

He was only pretending to be yours so he could have her. 

Your phone vibrated as you downed your final glass of wine, making you look at the screen with a frown.

“I’m heading to Nana’s apartment for the night! See if Satori can give you a ride home, thanks for the help!!”

Your jaw ached from how hard you were forcing yourself to keep from crying. When you tried to find the elusive redhead, you found he was drunk and dancing with two girls so you decided to leave him be and simply call an Uber. 

For just a short time, you had simply been a contract girlfriend for him to use. Though you knew it was fake, it still felt so nice to be called his. 

So you went home, removing your expensive clothing like Cinderella after the ball and decided to relax on the couch. It was only a little past midnight when you got out of the shower, turning on the TV to watch whatever late night nonsense was playing. 

Eita thought that being with Nana again would be everything he wanted. But as he laid beside her, her head resting on his naked chest, strangely all he could think of was you. 

When he asked you to pretend to be his date, he hadn’t thought of the possibility of how it would really feel. Sure, he had touched you before, naturally. Sometimes he hugged you and held your hand. But that night, when he placed the kiss against your head, the way your eyes lit up in response had his heart stuttering when he thought back to it. 

Truth be told, when you told him he couldn’t kiss you he felt so...disappointed. He had thought of assigning the same rule but decided against it at the last moment, secretly thinking about how nice it may feel to kiss you. 

He had quickly dashed that though because of how wrong it was to think of you like that. 

Yet there he was, thinking of you with his ex girlfriend back in his arms again.

“Eita?” Nana asked, lifting her head to look drowsily at him, “Are you okay?”

“Um...yeah,” he clears his throat, “I should probably get going.”

“Why?” she whines, “Don’t worry about her.”

“Huh? Who?” he asks, confused.

She giggles and clings to his arm, “Your girlfriend! She doesn’t have to know!”

His heart ached at those words -- true, you weren’t really dating but he felt like he had done something wrong. And for some reason Nana’s blatant disregard that he had cheated with her made him nauseous.

“I...I just want to see if she made it home safely,” he gave her a tight lipped smile and picked up his phone. 

She rested against the pillow, head propped up on her hand as she watched him dial you. When you didn’t answer, he gave a frustrated sigh and dialed Satori instead. 

It rang a few times before the slurred voice of his best friend answered, “H-Hey man, what’s up?”

“Satori, did you drop _____ off okay?” Eita asked.

The redhead made a confused sound over the line, “What’re you talkin’ about? She never asked me to take her anywhere.”

“What?” Eita frowned, “Did you see her leave the party?”

“Gotta tell ya, man, I wasn’t watchin’ her,” Tendou replied, a feminine giggle in the background making Eita frown, “Wasn’t that supposed to be your job?”

Eita sighed, shaking his head, “Alright, dude, just...let me know if you hear from her.”

“Hah? Why would she call me?” Satori chuckled, “Why don’t you just check on her? Better safe than sorry...I mean, she’s a cute girl, you never know what kinda scoundrels were eyeing her in that pretty little dress tonight. If i was a less honorable friend, she would be the one in my bed right now!”

Eita scoffed and hung up as his friend started cackling gleefully over the line. Eita stood up, shaking off Nana’s grabby hands as he slipped his jeans back on.

“You’re not going back to her, are you?” she pouted.

Eita sighed, “I gotta check on her. No one knows where she went off to.”

“She’s a big girl, c’mon Eita~” she purred, letting the sheet fall from her bare body as she crawled towards him.

He shook his head and threw his shirt on, grabbing his keys off of her dresser before moving to the door, “I gotta see her.”

He ignored her obnoxious whining as he bolted out the door. Any sleepiness that was in his system had evaporated at the worry he felt over you. 

The drive to your apartment was quick enough, it went by in a blur. He took two steps at a time up to your place on the 3r floor, not patient enough to wait for the elevator. 

The knock on your door made you jump. Throwing the pillow you held in your lap aside, you checked through the peephole to see a familiar head of sandy blonde hair. 

Pulling the door opened, you looked at him with wide eyes, “Eita? Aren’t you supposed to be with--”

“I couldn’t get a hold of you,” he breathed, stepping past you to enter your living room.

“And?” you laughed, shrugging your shoulders.

“I got worried! Why didn’t you go home with Satori?” he sighed, sitting on your couch with a huff.

You chuckled again, though it was humorless, “He looked like he was having fun, I didn’t want to impose.”

He sighs and relaxes against the couch. As you sit next to him, for a second things feel normal. 

You almost feel okay, as if you could forget about everything happening. It’s so easy to forget your crush on your best friend and the fact he wanted to be with another woman. 

It was easy to forget it all until it came rushing back into your face in the form of Nana. 

You and Eita were having a lunch date, as was normal for the two of you. Unfortunately, amid his retelling of a story you had heard a million times over, she showed up with an obnoxious screech of his name.

“Eita!” she squealed and rushed over to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. 

You let out a soft sigh, your eyes falling to your half-finished plate.

“Nana…” he greeted, eyes wide in shock, “H-How did you find me? What’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you, silly!” she chirped, taking a seat in his lap in a way that was far too comfortable. Suddenly, her gaze shifted to you and the smile vanished off of her face, “Oh, you’re here.”

“Nana…” Eita sighed but didn’t make any move to get off of him.

“What? I thought you were going to break up with her?” she whined loudly, making your cheeks burn as people looked over at the two of you, “You said you were going to dump her!”

“I--” Eita started.

“You should go,” Nana grinned at you, shrugging her shoulders as she hugged Eita closer to her, “Seriously, he’s mine now. He was fucking me at that party instead of you.”

Although nothing about your relationship that night was real, the humiliation you felt at that very moment was. She was smug that she had gotten your boyfriend to cheat on you and was making a spectacle of her victory. 

Biting your lip, you reached behind you to grab your purse, “I-I’ll see you later, Eita.”

“______ wait!” he called but you were already rushing towards the entrance. 

You had no idea that he was hot on your heels until you reached your apartment. You went to close it only for the foot to intercept it. Looking over your shoulder, you found Eita panting before he was pushing the door open completely.

“_____ I--” he paused, “Why are you crying?”

“I am?” you wiped under your eyes and frowned when you felt the moisture there, promptly wiping it away, “Sh-She completely made a fool of me, Eita. I don’t know what you ever saw in her and I don’t know why I helped you get back with her.”

“I know, look…” he ran a hand through his already messed up hair, “I feel the same, alright? I’m sorry I pulled you into all this, _____, I really am. Alright, I told her to get lost.”

You sighed and took a seat on your couch, “She only wanted you back because you’re famous now. You know that right?”

He chuckled and sat down, nodding his head, “I guess I was just...hoping for something I guess.”

“What?” you asked.

He shrugged, “I don’t really remember anymore,” he confessed. 

“Well,” you didn’t quite know what to say, simply leaning back on the couch to appear relaxed, “I always wondered why you didn’t date after her anyway.”

He shrugged once more. How was he meant to say that he didn’t want anyone impeding on his time with you? 

“I guess...no one really came along, you know?”

You nodded, “I guess it’s the same for me.”

He snorted, “You’ve never even dated anyone before.”

“You don’t have to bring that up!” you whined, playfully shoving his shoulder.

He laughed, melodic and pretty, “I think it’s cute. What’s your story then?”

“Eita, we’ve been friends since high school, you know everything about me,” you smiled, feeling your cheeks warm at the soft look he was giving you.

“Yeah but…” he bit his lip, fingers inching closer towards you, “You’re...pretty and sweet. There’s plenty of good looking guys around me that have tried flirting with you before. Hell, Satori even said he was into you.”

You smiled and shook your head, “No, none of them are right…”

“Who is right then?” he asked, unable to hide the hopefulness in his voice.

“Eita…” the smile falls from your lips, your heart hammering in your chest as he moved closer towards you, “I…”

“Hm?” he hummed, his nose brushing against yours, breath fanning over your lips.

“I...I won’t regret this, will I?” you asked. 

His breathing stuttered against your skin and he shook his head, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, “You won’t.”

After those words left his mouth, he brought your lips to his in a sweet kiss that was perfect for a first. You could tell he was experienced, knowing exactly how to move. 

There was something sweet lingering on his tongue that you found utterly addictive. 

You wish you could find it strange or even scary to wind up in bed with your best friend. The fact your entire relationship was going to be changing should have concerned you but all you felt was anticipation. 

He hovered over your body, the two of you stripping your clothes with unhurried ease. His body was firm from working out, a habit he never let go of from his time as a volleyball player. 

His hands were calloused and warm as they touched your body, caressing your breasts in a way no one ever had. The feeling of him thumbing over your nipples had your back arching in arousal, your panties becoming soaked embarrassingly fast. 

He was hard and throbbing in his jeans, the constricting material almost painful but all he really cared about in that moment was seeing all of you. 

Hooking his thumbs into the band of your panties, he pulled the material down. He cursed under his breath at the strings of slick that attached to the fabric. 

“You’re so wet,” he breathed, licking his lips as he tossed your panties over his shoulder to be lost somewhere in your room. 

“Sh-Shut up, don’t tease me…” you mumble, feeling embarrassed by your body’s own reaction to him.

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss against your knee, “I’m not, baby. It’s sweet...I love knowing you react so honestly to me.”

“Eita…” you whined, reaching up to cover your face as he spread your legs.

“Hmm?” he bites his lip, sliding two fingers between your folds to spread them apart. 

Your hole clenched around nothing, drooling more slick for him to gather on his fingertips. He used it to rub smooth circles around your clit, the sweet moan that fell from your lips at the pleasure he so easily gave you. 

“I’ll get you nice and prepped, baby,” he cooed, the nickname making your heart soar. 

You were so wet, making it easy for him to slide two thick fingers into your pretty cunt. You clamped down tight around the digits, making his cock throb at the mere thought of what that would feel like around his hard cock. 

Twisting his wrist, he crooked his fingers up to hit your sweet spot, his thumb coming up to circle around your clit. The inexperience of your body made it so easy for him to bring you to the edge. 

You had never felt this, no one had ever touched you so intimately so your body was more reactive than ever. 

Reaching down, you wrapped your hand around his wrist, meeting his gaze with wide eyes. He smiled, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You cumming?” he asked, though he could very easily feel your walls spasming around him. 

Still, you nodded, mouth falling open but no sound escaping, “E-Eita…”

“C’mon, baby,” he groaned, fasting his pace to fuck your dripping cunt. The sounds were wet, lewd and if you were with anyone else you would have been completely ashamed. But it was Eita, the person you trusted the most in the world. He groaned as your body began to quake, “Let it go, pretty girl. Cum for me, that’s it.”

At his encouragement, you released with a shrill whine of his name. He eagerly fucked your gushing cunt through the high, only slowing when your back met the bed again. 

Pulling his fingers from your hole, he was mindful of your sensitivity. He still couldn’t resist placing a fleeting kiss against your throbbing clit before sitting up to meet you for another heated kiss. 

Your body was still trembling as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your thighs spread open around his waist. His clothed cock hovered above your sensitive core and he made sure the rough material of his jeans didn’t make contact.

“Please, Eita, c-can we…?” you asked, biting your lip, too embarrassed to utter the words.

He smiled and nodded, brushing some hair behind your ear before sitting up to discard the remaining clothing on his person. His skin was pretty, tanned and built. His cock reached his navel, dripping precum down the length which he used to easily slick his cock up with his fist. 

The sight of your best friend jerking himself off over your naked, trembling body felt beyond taboo. But it only made you more eager to have him. 

“Please, Eita...I want you,” you breathed. 

He flashed you a smile and sat up on his knees, sliding the dripping tip between your folds. Brushing past your clit, you whined at the sensitivity. 

“It might hurt a bit, pretty baby,” he whispered, positioning himself at your entrance. 

You had already guessed it. He was big just by looking at him. But nothing compared to when he began to sink into you -- that’s when his size really became apparent. 

“Ah, Eita!” you whined, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He hissed but didn’t stop you, eyes falling to where his cock was steadily stretching you open. When he got halfway in, he pulled back until the head remained within your clasping walls. With an experienced roll of his hips, he pushed his cock back in, this time easily bottoming out. 

“Fuck!” you squealed, back arching. 

He could feel you gushing, dripping down his balls. There wasn’t a single sign of pain in your features so he quickly began to move, the both of you riled up and eager to have each other completely. 

Everything felt so right, so sweet. Having him in your arms made you feel so happy. 

“You’re mine now, baby,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck, “All mine. N-No more, fuck, of this friend shit...I love you.”

“Eita,” you whined, tears pricking your eyes as you hugged him tightly against you, “I love you too. P-Please make me cum.”

“Fuck, I’ll get you there, baby,” he promised, reaching between your bodies to find your clit. Your walls immediately clamped tight around him as he played with your little bud, “C’mon. Cum for me. I wanna feel you cream, pretty baby. Can you do that for me? Show me how good this cock makes you cum.”

His filthy words, whispered in his sweet, deep voice were enough to throw you over the edge. As you squeezed around him, trembling and gushing through the amazing orgasm, he spilled within you. A soft whimper of your name fell from his lips as his balls throbbed, cock spitting out load after load until you were so filled, it dripped from your cunt. 

Finally, the both of you stilled. He leaned back to look in your eyes, tucking some damp hair behind your ear before pecking your lips. 

“I meant it, you really are mine now,” he said.

You nodded, “You’re all mine too.”

“Well,” he gave you a teasing grin, “You have to share me with my millions of adoring fans.”

“Don’t be so full of yourself,” you giggled, biting your lip as he pulled out, “You have thousands at most.”

“Oh, way to bruise a guy’s ego,” he laughed.

You were grateful to have him, everything with him was so easy. Everything between you was fine, perfect even. And you didn’t have to worry about ever losing him to another girl again.

[ilovescarletwitch]

I want people to stop saying that Leia and her grandmother Shmi both practiced non attachment when they both suffered the greatest loses of their lives. And always mentioned as a praise to the Jedi Order. Neither of these two women had studied the Jedi Order philosophy or knew anything concrete about the Jedi.

Shmi was a slave. She was property and had no rights or agency. Her own child was not considered hers. She was owned by a creature we are told is a gambler so there is a strong possibility at any point he could lose one of them at cards and their lives would become even worse. When she sent Anakin off with Qui-gon, she only knew the man for a week at most. She had never been to Coruscant or knew anything about the place or the Jedi Order. If something happened to Anakin she wouldn't be there to comfort him, or help him, wouldn't even know about it. These aren't the actions of an enlightened woman who was unattached to her own child and knew it was time to send the kid alone out into the world, at the ripe old age of nine, with only the clothes on his back and in the care of virtual strangers. These were the actions of a desperate mother who loved her child enough to part with her only family, taking a chance to spare him from a life of abuse, exploitation and degradation.

Similarly, at the time of Alderaan's destruction Leia was a prisoner. She had been kept in a very claustrophobic cell, and was questioned by Darth Vader who did his best to terrify her. It's implied that she was drugged in order to be more cooperative and we don't know if she was physically tortured. She was at least subjected to psychological torture and we don't know how much food and water she was given.

According to Rogue One, which is canon, the Death Star had already been used to destroy Jedda. As a result, Leia knew that even if it didn't blow up the entire planet the Death Star would still capable of causing unimaginable destruction to Alderaan. She resists threats, intimidation, possibly torture but when her planet (her family and all the people she has a responsibility to and never consented to dying for the Rebellion) is threatened, she gives Tarkin the location of a Rebel base.

Later we are told (officers report it to Tarkin)it's abandoned but are never told if Leia knew she was abandoned when she gave up the location. Tarkin after she gives up the location explicitly tells Leia and the audience that the plan was always to destroy Alderaan as a show of force that would terrify the galaxy and the location of remote planet housing only rebel forces wouldn't be as powerful a statement as the destruction of a rich core planet populated by civilians. Tarkin wanted to make a statement that core worlds weren't safe, civilians weren't safe, nobody was safe if there was suspicion of dissent. The Empire would be absolutely ruthless in stamping it out.

Yavin 4 was also a remote planet that only housed rebel forces. Giving up it's location at that point would not save Alderaan but merely doom more people. Leia didn't conceal the location because she was enlightened and unattached but because she knew there was nothing she could do, no information, no matter how valuable, that could persuade Tarkin to change his mind and spare Alderaan. She was completely helpless and powerless to do anything but accept what happened to her planet. And then spend four years seeking justice against the Empire. During the ESB she was shown to be angry and anger is also a manifestation of grief, especially grief for such a huge loss. But Jedi apologists don't want to consider that grief isn't something pretty and would show in many different ways

Now pro Jedi people are against the fact that Leia fell in love with Han and wanted to marry him as well as start a family with him. In fact while this person seems Leia getting married and having kids as boring, it actually makes narrative sense. Should Leia have approached Han after she admitted that she loved him and he admitted that he loved her in order to say “Sorry I can’t marry you because I now suddenly want to join this religious order that we are rebuilding that refused romantic relationships in the past because they thought it would make you evil even though we can change the rules because we are rebuilding it.” But then again these are the people who call Anakin a sperm donor in regards to Leia even though he was excited to be a father and if he never fell, he would be raising both Luke and Leia with Padmé. They act as if he was a deadbeat father who wanted nothing to do with her when he thought his children were dead. As Darth Vader he wasn’t an ideal parent, but he wasn’t someone who voluntarily abandoned his own children. Also I liked that in Legends Luke realized that forbidding family bonds in the Jedi Order was dumb.

[vrishchikawrites]

You know what would be cathartic?

JC getting the ass whooping he deserves.

I can't get over how he gets zero repercussions for the massacre of the Wen remnants as well as torturing and murdering who knows how many people for 13/16 years... Etc. Sure after Guanyin temple we get a spark of hope that he might at least mend his ways, but then in the extras he's back to his old ways so 🤷

The only post canon I accept for him is that he finally manages to cross one line too many and someone just beats the shit out of him and wipes the floor with his mug (preferably WN or LSZ because those two are such good boys and they deserve a little violence as a treat but LWJ and WWX could get to let out some steam as well) meanwhile the rest of the cultivation world watches on like "yup he had it coming"

(this is way, way post canon but I had a vision in my head. I hope it works)

Age has done nothing to temper Jiang Wanyin's personality. He's still entirely too quick to anger, always a hair's breadth away from violence. Lan Xichen finds it distasteful but he's a Sect Leader and must maintain proper relationship with his peers.

His amiable masks strains, just a little, when his youngest nephew is pushed back by the fury of Jiang Wanyin's blade.

It was supposed to be a lesson but Xichen knows Jiang Wanyin's true motives.

Lan Zhenxing is Wangji and Wuxian's youngest child, adopted when he was discarded at the gates of Cloud Recesses as a little baby. He may as well be Wei Wuxian's natural-born son, given how much he resembles him in personality.

His uncle is very displeased but Wangji is not-so-secretly enamored. Nothing pleases him more than finding traces of his husband in their son.

The quality that Wangji adores, Jiang Wanyin detests.

Xichen has always wondered why Jiang Wanyin is so determined to remain bitter. It hurts no one but himself. Wuxian has moved on, it isn't in his brother-in-law's nature to linger in the past. Xichen has witnessed his blissful happiness first hand and is forever grateful it turned out this way.

There's no reason why Jiang Wanyin couldn't follow the same path; build his family, nurture new ties, and take the path of peace.

Now, as he watches Jiang-zongzhu pressure his little nephew, his 14-year-old baby Lan, he can't help but feel angry.

It is supposed to be a lesson, a way to correct the child's sword grip, a way to help him become lighter on his feet.

Xichen had permitted it, nudging his intimidated nephew gently.

It was a mistake.

His little nephew's face is white and eyes are wide. He is visibly terrified and there's no parent in the crowd unbothered by it. He sees several cultivators step forward with disapproving frowns. There are a few who even dare to call Jiang Wanyin's name, asking him to slow down.

The Cultivation world is very familiar with the man's temper but this is the first time they see his capacity for ruthlessness so starkly.

"Jiang Cheng," Xichen turns around to see Wei Wuxian walk forward and breathes a sigh of relief. Wangji is nowhere to be found but he assumes he's still engaged in writing a report of their most recent Nighthunt.

The differences between Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian couldn't be more stark.

Wuxian has a genial air and a youthful face. He barely looks like a father of three children, two of them already adults. Diligence and innate brilliance have allowed him to reach new heights of cultivation.

In terms of power, no one but Wangji is his match.

Jiang Wanyin, in contrast, has the look of a bitter, worn-down man. Xichen has always found it fascinating.

In Wei Wuxian, that Golden Core had thrived and shone with the brilliance of the Sun. In Jiang Wanyin, it has lost all of its lustre. It remains powerful, but nowhere near as potent as it should be.

Twenty three years ago, Wei Wuxian had gotten a weak body and a weak core. He build it up again and now he stands tall, strong, and practically glowing with the might of his spiritual prowess.

It is perhaps the person, not the core itself, that determines a cultivator's power.

Wei Wuxian steps between a furious Jiang Wanyin and his son, running a gentle hand over the boy's head to reassure him, "Go keep your A'die company, a-Xing. He's stuck with paperwork and would love a distraction."

All traces of fear have already left Zhenxing's face and he is back to his good-humored self. He bows to his father and Jiang-zongzhu cheerfully and walks away.

Wei Wuxian stares down at Jiang Wanyin with no trace of kindness on his face. The gentle father is gone, this is the Wei Wuxian his brother has carefully brought out with years of love and unceasing devotion.

Confident, self-assured, and absolutely unwilling to be anyone's victim.

"If you're angry, take it out on someone who can actually beat some sense into you, Jiang Cheng."

"Wei Wuxian!"

"Jiang Wanyin," His brother-in-law echoes mockingly, "Did you think you could harass my son and I would just let it go?"

"He's a weak if he needs your protection, even now." Jiang Wanyin says and Wuxian's expression turns frosty.

He unsheathes Suibian, "It seems like you need a sound thrashing."

Xichen coughs to conceal his laugh as Jiang Wanyin scowls furiously and rushes at Wuxian.

It is a short match. Sandu races forward and Wuxian spins out of its way, Suibian singing through the air as he cuts a shallow slash across Jiang Wanyin's chest.

The sight of blood silences everyone.

Wei Wuxian doesn't falter. It would seem everyone has forgotten just how ruthless the Yiling Laozu can really be when provoked. Wuxian presses Jiang Wanyin like the Sect Leader had pressed Lan Zhenxing. He becomes a swift, merciless, overwhelming force that has Jiang Wanyin scrambling backwards to avoid the more deadly strikes.

All the while, Wei Wuxian is calm, his lips quirked and clothes unruffled. He spins in a flurry of rich black silks and brings Suibian down with such force, Jiang Wanyin loses control of Sandu.

The sword clatters to the ground and Jiang Wanyin looks up at Wei Wuxian with fury and embarrassment.

"My son is weak, huh?"

One must wonder, Xichen thinks absently, how a man with every advantage in his corner manages to squander his potential so completely.

Jiang Wanyin is of noble birth, handsome in appearance, and posses a golden core that had immense potential.

And yet.

Xichen shakes his head as other cultivators nod in approval of Wei Wuxian, murmuring among themselves.

Apparently, no earthly advantages can overcome the faults of one's character.

"The good and righteous are always strong," His uncle says with grim satisfaction and Xichen looks at him in surprise, "Even if their bodies are weak." He thinks back on the young Wei-gongzi, back from the dead in a weak body. "The wicked and resentful are always weak." Lan Qiren starts walking away, following Wei Wuxian out of the training field, "Regardless of the power they hold."

Xichen looks back at Jiang Wanyin, who is stalking away with humiliation written on his face, ignoring the disapproving frowns aimed at his back.

What a pity.

[sokkastyles]

I’ve talked about this before, but I need to emphasize that Zuko working in the tea shop is a huge part of his arc and development. It wasn’t just something that lasted only a few episodes that he hated and then moved on from, it’s something that is threaded throughout his arc and into the finale. 

Of course he’s not happy for a large part of the time he’s working there in book two. He’s a traumatized teenager who is desperately trying to achieve the approval of his father so that he can go back to the home he was banished from. Iroh tries to make the best of things in part because Iroh genuinely enjoys it and making the best of a bad situation is just who he is, but he also wants Zuko to be happy and wants to make the best life for his nephew that he can, and he knows that Zuko needs positivity and security in his life, as well as tries to nurture in Zuko an appreciation for the small things in life and an attitude of service. It is hardly surprising that Zuko is resistant to this, though.

Zuko complains even more when he and Iroh are presented with new opportunities, because he doesn’t want to accept the possibility of growth in this new life.

Iroh: Did you hear, nephew? This man wants to give us our own tea shop in the Upper Ring of the city!

Quon: That's right, young man, your life is about to change for the better!

Zuko: [Sarcastically.] I'll try to contain my joy. [Walks outside, slams door shut.]

Zuko spends seven episodes working in the tea shop in a twenty episode season. It runs through his entire Ba Sing Se arc. He grumbles, groans, and complains through most of it.

Iroh: So, I was thinking about names for my new tea shop. How about the Jasmine Dragon? It's dramatic, poetic, has a nice ring to it.

Zuko: [Shows Iroh the flyer.] The Avatar is here in Ba Sing Se and he's lost his bison.

Iroh: [Grabs the flyer.] We have a chance for a new life here. [Cut to Zuko looking out a window.] If you start stirring up trouble, we could lose all the good things that are happening for us.

Zuko: [Turns to Iroh.] Good things that are happening for you! Have you ever thought that I want more from life than a nice apartment and a job serving tea?

Iroh: There is nothing wrong with a life of peace and prosperity. I suggest you think about what it is that you want from your life and why.

Zuko: I want my destiny.

Iroh: What that means is up to you. 

Zuko’s time in the tea shop is part of his arc of discovering that he can choose his own destiny, and although he didn’t choose to live as a refugee, he can choose what he makes of it, which is what Iroh is trying to teach him here. Part of that is choosing to accept Iroh’s love, choosing to appreciate the good things instead of wishing for something that he doesn’t have, and we know that Zuko’s desire to go back to being the prince of the Fire Nation and earn his father’s affection is ultimately empty, and part of a life where he was abused, as well as where he was a part of a system that was oppressing others.

Then Zuko refuses Iroh’s advice about accepting a simple life in favor of pursuing Appa as the Blue Spirit - an identity that represents Zuko’s internal conflict between his fractured self image, which in book two involves him using the Blue Spirit identity to steal, to get back a part of the old life which he’s lost. It is extremely painful for him to admit that trying to get back to who he was before his banishment is causing him to engage in self-destructive behaviors that are stagnating his growth. Iroh just wants him to be safe and happy but he also knows that Zuko has to confront this conflict within himself.

That’s why, after he frees Appa, he must throw away the Blue Spirit mask once and for all, symbolically letting go of his desire to go back to the Fire Nation.

Iroh: You did the right thing, nephew. Leave it behind.

Giving up the past is never easy. Especially giving up the ideas he’s held onto for so long, the idea of what he can one day get back that, as Iroh said in book one, had kept Zuko going through his banishment, that gave him hope. But part of creating your own destiny is realizing that you can find hope in places you didn’t think you could find it. Zuko has to find something else to put his hope in and that’s represented physically by the sickness he suffers after freeing Appa. His entire sense of self has been shaken to the core, because change, real change, is hard.

Iroh: You should know that this is not a natural sickness, but that shouldn't stop you from enjoying tea.

Zuko: What's happening?

Iroh: Your critical decision. What you did beneath that lake. It was in such conflict with our image of yourself that you are now at war within your own mind and body. 

Zuko: What's that mean?

Iroh: You are going through a metamorphosis, my nephew. It will not be a pleasant experience, but when you come out of it, you will be the beautiful prince you were always meant to be.

Tea even makes an appearance during Zuko’s “metamorphosis,” because the tea is symbolic, y’all. Then when Zuko wakes up from his sickness, we see an immediate change in him.

Iroh: Now that your fever is gone, you seem different somehow.

Zuko: [Optimistically.] It's a new day. We've got a new apartment, new furniture, and today's the grand opening of your new tea shop. Things are looking up, Uncle.

This doesn’t necessarily mean that Zuko has suddenly decided that he loves serving tea and working customer service, but the change he’s experienced is about choosing to find the good, to accept change into his life, to accept humility, and love. And this is the most happy we’ve ever seen Zuko be. We also see him emotionally supporting Iroh and working on his relationship with his uncle because he knows that seeing Zuko happy makes Iroh happy. Before, Zuko made a big show of his unhappiness, slamming doors and frowning and shouting and generally acting like a spoiled teenager with major authority issues, which made Iroh visibly upset. Iroh constantly tries to get Zuko to change his attitude but in the end it’s something that Zuko has to choose himself.

Iroh: Who thought when we came to this city as refugees, that I'd end up owning my own tea shop? Follow your passion, Zuko, and life will reward you.

Zuko: Congratulations, Uncle.

Iroh: I am very thankful.

Zuko: You deserve it. The Jasmine Dragon will be the best tea shop in the city.

Iroh: No. I'm thankful because you decided to share this special day with me. It means more than you know.

Zuko: Now let's make these people some tea! 

This is more than just Zuko being happy for Iroh or trying to be happy because Iroh wants him to be happy. We see the idea repeated here that you can choose your own destiny, and that those who do are rewarded by life. This is also echoed in Zuko’s conversation with Katara in which he tells her that lately he has realized that he is free to choose what he makes of the scars of his past, and his future. We also see him practicing what Iroh told him, he lets go of shame by letting go of pride. Instead of talking about what he thinks he deserves, he talks about what Iroh deserves. The dialogue also indicates that Zuko chose to be there.

This development is emphasized when Zuko and Iroh are invited to serve tea to the Earth King.

Iroh: I ... I can't believe it!

Zuko: What is it, Uncle?

Iroh: Great news! We've been invited to serve tea to the Earth King!

Zuko goes from “step aside, filth!” and complaining about doing work to smiling about serving tea to the king of a rival nation. That’s character development. And as I said before, it was essential to Zuko’s development in becoming the kind of Fire Lord that he is supposed to be.

The dramatic irony of Katara finding them and unintentionally ratting them out to Azula is that when Katara enters the tea shop, she finds not only a Zuko in a tea apron, but a happy one enthusiastically taking people’s orders.

Zuko: Uncle! I need two jasmine, one green, and one lychee!

Iroh: I'm brewing as fast as I can!

I love this scene so much because it’s like, imagine that you decide to go to Panera Bread and you find Kylo Ren working at the counter, cheerfully asking you if you want chips or an apple with that. It’s also hilarious that Katara’s immediate thought is they’re infiltrating the city when she knows that there’s an evil force of brainwashing government agents lurking about.

That Zuko genuinely found peace with his life in Ba Sing Se is narratively important because it makes what happens next even harder for him. “The Crossroads of Destiny” is a true crossroads because he’s fought hard to find happiness and hope in his new life, but then it’s all ripped away and he’s put to the test. That he fails it this time just emphasizes how hard it is to break free of old destructive habits.

This is why when he does go back to the Fire Nation, we’re shown his doubts, and how uncomfortable he is. He tries to be happy and to accept his role as prince, but he already knows that this is not the destiny he wants for himself. The excessive opulence of the Fire Nation is meant to show this. We see this in scenes like Zuko constantly being unhappy during the beach episode and becoming angry when he is told to relax and do nothing, and his insecurity at the party in a room full of rich kids. 

In particular, we see him being uncomfortable being waited on by servants in “Nightmares and Daydreams”:

Servant #1: Fresh fruit, Prince Zuko?

Zuko puts out his hand and shakes his head respectfully.

Servant #2: May I wash your feet, sir?

Zuko respectfully puts his hand out and shakes his head again.

Servant #1: Head massage?

Zuko shakes his head again.

Servant #2: Hot towel?

Zuko looks at the towels for a moment and takes one. He is seen wiping his forehead before walking out of the room. The two servants bow behind him. Zuko walks out the palace gates, with Fire Nation citizens waiting for him.

Servant #1: Prince Zuko, is something wrong? You didn't take the palanquin.

Zuko: I'm just going to Mai's house. It's not far.

Servant #1: It's not a prince's place to walk anywhere, sir.

Zuko looks to the distance, walks over, and gets into the palanquin.

We see him trying to fit in with Mai because he’s a sixteen year old who has a girlfriend for the first time in his life and he wants to impress her, but what this scene actually shows is their differing values.

Zuko: Tell me, if you could have anything you want right now, what would it be?

Mai: Hm ... A big fancy fruit tart, with rose petals on top.

Zuko: You know, being a prince and all, I might just be able to make that happen.

Mai: That would be impressive.

Zuko: [To the servants.] Do you think you could find a fresh fruit tart for the lady, with rose petals on top?

Servant: Excellent choice, sir.

Mai: I guess there's some nice perks that come with being royalty. [Pushing Zuko to lay down with her.] Though there's annoying stuff, too. Like that all-day war meeting coming up.

Zuko: [Sitting up, followed by Mai.] War meeting? What are you talking about?

Mai: Azula mentioned something. I-I assumed you were going, too.

Zuko: I guess I wasn't invited.

The two look away from each other.

Zuko asks Mai what she would want if she could have anything and what she comes up with is fruit tarts. This doesn’t necessarily mean that Mai is shallow, but what it does mean is that she’s never had to worry about what she wants in terms of the big picture.

“Who are you, and what do you want?”

She’s also never had to go hungry like Zuko has, and never had to serve others like Zuko has.

And then she brings up the war meeting, which to her is only an annoyance. Zuko doesn’t care about fruit tarts and palanquin rides, but this is something he cares about. It’s also funny to me that Mai is like “make out time,” and let’s be real, nobody would fault Zuko, a sixteen year old boy, for enjoying a little hanky panky, but Zuko is like “no, anxiety time!” Which shows how much he’s changed and how much he is struggling to be happy despite all the fruit tarts and hot towels and having a girlfriend who is all over him.

It is NOT a coincidence that when Zuko joins the gaang, we see him genuinely happy and among friends and making and serving tea.

Zuko had to go back to the Fire Nation to really understand how much he had changed and to really be able to choose his own destiny, but we know which one he chooses, between a life of empty riches and a life helping others. Even when we see him addressing the people as Fire Lord, his speech is all about service and humility. When the crowd cheers for him, he does this:

Zuko: Please. The real hero is the Avatar.

Which shows how far he’s come from the boy who so desperately wanted recognition, who was repulsed by the idea of serving others or lowering himself to the status of a “peasant,” who only thought of himself and what he deserved. His last scene is not his coronation, not his triumphant moment of standing in front of a crowd as Fire Lord, or even confronting his father, but a quiet moment, serving tea to his friends.

[fandomwriterstuff]

Rewind

Rick Flag x you

Rated T

~6.5k words (I could not turn it into chapters, it didn't work out right)

Warnings: canon typical violence

I highly recommend listening to this song because it is very epic and I listened to it while I wrote the dramatic end scene.

You were a petty thief, a modern Robin Hood; you stole from the one percent to gave to the needy. And you know what? More often than not, the one percenters never even noticed. And every time you got caught you used your powers to get out of the situation. However, you knew a day was coming when you wouldn’t be able to get out of a nasty situation. A feeling of dread was filling up your nightmares and seeping into your waking life. You were filled with anxiety that your next job would be your last. Of course, it was never an issue with your powers. That is, until it became an issue.

You were doing a job in Gotham, a shitty city if you did say so yourself. Nothing like the country home you grew up in. You knew the ins and outs of the city bank. You knew the guard schedules, you knew the camera angles, you knew the passcodes, you knew which day your target would be inside. Bruce Wayne. Local billionaire who wasted his time and money hosting galas for the rich and famous. You loathed the idea of him. He wouldn’t notice a couple million getting lost in the shuffle. You knew everything that Gotham City Bank had to offer. But what you didn’t know would get you caught and sent to a metahuman prison. What you didn’t know was why you’d been feeling the dread of this job creep up on you for weeks. You had a bad feeling about it, more than the rest. So when you walked in, in disguise, you thought nothing of the exhaustion and weakness that filled your body.

You’d barely slept the night before, so it was normal. And this wasn’t a cash job, it was all wire transfers. But Wayne had to be there for the biometrics to work. Unfortunately, he knew all about your little job. He knew and he had you caught. You were confused, at first, when all you saw when you walked in was an empty bank. It was just the tellers looking at you nervously, but there was a swish behind you and you whipped around, military training coming back to you from your brief time in the army as you took a fighting stance to see… the Batman?

“The Masked Marauder,” he mocked you in his autotuned voice. You scoffed, two could play at that game. You were posing as a man today, trying to throw the trail off of yourself. You turned on your voice modulator and laughed haughtily at him.

“The Batman. Fancy seeing you here,” you were unsure as to how Batman was involved with Wayne Enterprises, but you had no doubt he was there for you.

“Feeling a little weak yet? I can see you straining,” you were on guard as he approached you, coming close enough that you could see the stubble on his chin. If you could turn him around so you were closer to the doors you could use your powers to get out of there and make a quick escape. It was easier to change your own position with your powers and not an entire scene, but you could do it if need be.

But he was onto something. You did feel weak. You were tired, your limbs heavy.

“What did you do to me?” You asked, shifting on your feet but trying to keep the charade up. You were masked and cloaked, but he had a nerve-wracking effect on you.

“It’s new technology. Power blockers at every entrance. You’re powerless inside this place,” at his words you backed up, falling weakly towards the ground as your powers were seeping out of you. You tried to use them to get out of this situation, breath shaking and palms sweaty as the seriousness of the situation dawned on you. You were well and truly screwed.

It was only moments before the GCPD came and fixed you with a power-blocking collar, chaining you up in an armored vehicle and sending you on a long trip to Louisiana. You had no next of kin to notify, no friends to take care of your apartment. You were alone.

Belle Reve was a hell of a place. You were brought in under the cover of nightfall and were only given a brief explanation of the situation. You were in a metahuman prison. You had less rights than normal humans. You were being tried for multiple robberies and the associated injuries that people had gained when fighting back against you. You’d never killed anyone, not since the army, but it didn’t matter. The crimes had stacked up. You were looking at forty years in this place.

When they threw you into the cell you were going to stay in, you were relieved to see there was only one bed and it wasn’t occupied. Solitude, at least, was your friend. You could think. You’d have thought it would be less time in prison since you hadn’t killed anybody, but it didn’t seem like it mattered. You shrugged to yourself. It’s not that you had issues killing people, you were in a special metahuman unit in the army before you became the Masked Marauder. You had a different codename then, but working with them had made you a little crazy. You had to see your close friends and colleagues treated with less respect than dirt because of their metahuman status, and you had to see most of them killed in action. You barely made it out, and you came out with a raging hard on for disrespecting authority figures.

You were only in Belle Reve for six days before you met Harley Quinn.

“Live fast, die hard, baby. You gotta do what you gotta do,” was something you heard a lot out of her smirking mouth. If you were in another life, you’d have been instantly attracted to the beautiful blonde, but you had enough crazy in you to not want any more on your plate. Despite the lack of romance between the two of you, you still got close. “As thick as thieves,” Harley would say with a wry twist to her mouth. She loved puns.

“Chronos?” You whipped your head around at the sound of your military nickname. “What the fuck are you doing here you little slut?” Your eyes widened as you recognized one of your previous teammates. Another bad egg, turned away from the army and towards a life of crime.

“Who’s Chronos?” Harley frowned next to you at the lunch table you were at, she hated not knowing things.

“That’s what they used to call me,” you whispered, standing and facing the other woman. You were small in stature, and the Amazon-like woman towered over you.

“Annie,” you knew she hated being called by her real name. She was one of the cocky ones, thinking metahumans were better than regular old humans.

“You’re wrong,” another voice called. “Chronos is a dude,” that came from Blackguard, a weirdo that you were avoiding. You avoided most people, really.

“Chronos is not a dude,” Annie growled, suddenly looking at the smaller man. “You calling me a liar?”

“I think it’s time for us to get out of here,” Harley dug her fingers into your bicep and pulled you towards the rec yard.

“What’s up with you? You normally love people watching the fights,” you wondered, concerned when Harley passed her favorite guard without saying hi. (It was Colonel Flag, the fucking hottest guard at Belle Reve who you’d definitely formed a crush on. You couldn’t help it, he was compassionate and he didn’t spit on you or throw you around or humiliate you like the other guards.)

“You didn’t tell me you had a super secret past with a cool nickname,” she whisper-shouted when you got to a bench and she could slap you on the arm.

“It didn’t come up,” you shrugged sheepishly.

“What does Chronos even mean?” She asked and you were going to explain, but Colonel Flag sat down at the bench across from you with a warm smile.

“Harley, Y/N, just the two people I wanted to talk to,” he then raised an eyebrow at the bruising grip Harley had on your arm. She let go and he frowned at the angry half moon marks her nails had left there.

“Not now, Ricky,” Harley pouted. “Y/N’s been holding out on me! She has a cool secret life and never told me about it!”

“I doubt you ever asked,” he followed up in a deadpan way and you stifled a chuckle. It was true. She could be forgetful and also unobservant. She didn’t exactly ask you about your life a lot. You thought it might be an act, she did have a PhD, after all.

“She even has a cool nickname. What does Chronos even mean?” She asked again, but side-eyed Colonel Flag when he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Chronos? I thought they called you the Masked Marauder. You’re in here for theft.”

“They must not tell you all the deets,” you raised your eyebrows at the man. “Before I was a criminal I was a part of an elite army group of metahumans. But that went to shit and I’m considered a war criminal in several countries. Never got the pardon for working as a part of the US military because they wanted to keep my unit under wraps,” you frowned. You couldn’t ever leave the country because of it.

“Well you’re not going to like the proposal I have for you, then,” he looked like he was regretting coming over to you and you threw a smile on your face.

“What do you need, Colonel?” You asked, tilting your head, but Harley was bouncing up and down in her seat.

“Oh! Task Force X? Is it a new mission?” She looked so excited you nearly didn’t listen to her words. But you did.

“Task Force X?” You asked him, narrowing his eyes. Maybe that’s why he was so nice to you all this time. He was buttering you up. “I don’t think so. I’m not dying today.”

“You get ten years off of your sentence for every mission you do-” You cut him off.

“You had me at ‘ten years off of your sentence.’ Say no more. I’m in,” you grinned, shark-like, at him. He had the wherewithal to not look confused at your sudden change of heart.

“It’s always fun, like weeding out the weak!” Harley exclaimed as you were ushered out of the briefing with Amanda Waller, a woman who terrified you and chilled you to your core. You felt okay though because Rick was going to be your commanding officer. It had been three weeks since your conversation with him outside in the rec area. Three weeks and your relationship had shifted just enough to make you feel safe in his capable hands. If it wasn’t the genuine human respect he gave you, or the dirty looks and reprimands he gave the guards who manhandled and mistreated you, it was the lingering fingers brushing against your back when he led you places and the warm smile he had just for you.

“Flag,” you smiled softly as you passed him on the plane.

“Chronos,” he smiled back. You knew it was commonplace to call each other by their names (Bloodsport, Blackguard, Chronos, etc), but you felt a twinge of fear. This was your first time using that codename on a real life mission since you left the army. But, when Rick came up with a fancy electronic screwdriver and unhooked your power-dampening collar, you felt such a high. You were ecstatic, your limbs felt light, you felt like you could go a million rounds against Mayweather, you wanted to fuck-

“Am I missing something? Isn’t Chronos a dude?” Blackguard asked, again, and you scowled.

“Chronos is a myth, man. This is clearly just someone with the same name, right?” Boomer nodded towards you and you gave him a tight grin. But before you could respond, Rick did.

“She’s definitely Chronos, and you better hope her powers aren’t mythical,” you grinned at that. He had your back. However, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to save them all if it all went to shit. For several reasons.

You hadn’t used your powers since arriving at Belle Reve, so you didn’t know if you were at 100%

You only had certain amount of power over large situations, so you’d likely only be able to save yourself and a few others

You didn’t care enough about these fuckers and they didn’t care about you. Your priority was to get out alive with Rick and Harley

That’s when Harley made her first appearance to the team. She was apparently good friends with Boomer and you mentally added him to your list to keep alive.

After you set off, things happened quickly for you. You made eye contact with Rick (yes, you were mentally calling him Rick now, because you wanted to fucking date the shit out of him), and made small talk with Harley as Blackguard freaked out about Weasel. But when you dropped and made your way to shore, you stuck close to Rick. He had your back and you had his.

As it turned out, Blackguard had set you all up, giving your location to the enemy and getting his face blown off for his efforts. You watched as your elite team of killers was picked off one by one. Harley had run off and you were panicking that you didn’t have an eye on her. You needed her to get out of this alive.

“Follow me!” Rick shouted, nodding his head towards his intended destination - the forest.

“But Harley and Boomer are-” you shut your mouth as Mongal’s actions finally took their toll on Boomer. But maybe you could fix it, if you could use your powers-

“No, we have to get out of here, or we’re next,” Rick grasped at your arm and dragged you into a full out sprint towards the forest, gunshots echoing behind you. You slapped his hand away once you were deep in the forest, though the sky was darkening you cut your eyes to his.

“Harley is all I have,” you spat.

“She’s my friend too, you know,” he frowned. You’d never used that tone on him before. “She can handle herself,” as much as you were loath to admit it, he was right. She was crazy but she could get out of nearly any situation. You sighed and bent over, hands on your knees as you calmed your breathing.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” you muttered, but you gasped when a sudden pain shot through your right bicep.

“That was a warning shot,” you heard a voice call out in accented English.

“A warning shot?” Rick shouted as he crossed over to you, pulling you close to him and inspecting the wound. It went straight through, but it was bleeding badly. “Warning shots are supposed to be in the ground, not at people,” he spat, considering running but you were in too much pain and losing too much blood. “Don’t use your powers in front of them,” his lips brushed against your ear and you nodded imperceptibly. You wouldn’t want to show your hand.

“Take the colonel,” a woman’s voice called and you glanced at him, wide eyed as they dragged him off of you.

“Hey, hey!” He shouted, reaching out as you fell to your knees, putting pressure on your wound. If you could stifle the bleeding until they left you alone you could use your powers to fix it.

“Leave the girl,” the voice passed by you and you stared at Rick, panicking but unable to stop them as three men held him back and dragged him away. You couldn’t help but think this was the worst case scenario. The enemy was taking your leader but you had lost too much blood to put up a fight.

As the rest of the enemies passed you, you sat back on your heels, but one of them roughly bumped into you, making you lose your grip on your arm. The blood flow was back at full force and the world turned black around the edges. You were alone. You put your left hand face up in front of you, and your right hand an inch above it face down. Your hands were parallel to each other and you tried to gather your strength to use your powers, but you couldn’t. You hadn’t used them in so long and you had lost a lot of blood. The last thought you had before you lost consciousness was of Rick’s panicking face.

You awoke to gentle hands cleaning your wound with what you assumed was water and opened your eyes when you felt a tight bandage wrapping around your arm. It was a young girl, younger than you.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” she smiled softly.

“She’s awake?” A gruff voice came from behind you and you craned your neck to see a team of people behind you.

“Let’s get going then” another man said. “You patched her up, she can go on her own from here.”

“Who are you?” You asked the girl.

“We’re the Suicide Squad,” the dark skinned man growled. “Here to collect our Colonel.”

“No,” you sat up, quietly thanking the girl for patching you up. “I’m a part of the Suicide Squad,” you squinted in the early morning darkness. Was that… DuBois?

“Bloodsport?” You asked cautiously. Were these all other prisoners from Belle Reve?

“Who are you?” The guy in red and white asked you… Was that Peacemaker?

“They call me Chronos, but you might know me as the Masked Marauder,” you spoke cautiously.

“The thief? Why would they have a thief on a mission like this?” Peacemaker asked and you shrugged.

“My powers are useful for other things.”

“Chronos is a myth though, right?” A smaller man walked over to you, in a suit you didn’t recognize.

You shook your head. But that wasn’t the point, you had picked up on something DuBois had said.

“You’re looking for the Colonel?” You stood and approached the group, which apparently included a shark man.

“Yup, Colonel Flag was taken by enemies and is alive at their camp. He is our first mission,” DuBois spoke and you nodded.

“I’m coming with you. Colonel Flag helped me get out of the bloodbath at the beach. The enemy camp people shot me and took him away,” you frowned at the thought and the girl - Ratcatcher 2, she had specified - gasped.

“Why didn’t they take you, too?” She asked.

“I think they knew I wasn’t important. They noticed immediately that Flag was a military officer and took him away.” Likely to be tortured, you thought to yourself but didn’t say aloud.

“Well, let’s get going then,” Peacemaker said brightly and the group of you made your way to the enemy camp. You were lost in your thoughts on the way there. You weren’t sure whether or not you would kill anybody. Maybe hurt them or knock them out. You hadn’t killed since your time with the military. But they’d taken Rick and left you for dead. So you had very little qualms hurting them.

Turns out, it didn’t matter. Bloodsport and Peacemaker made what was almost a competition out of who could kill the most people in the sneakiest ways, but it got bloodier and bloodier as the rest of you approached the glowing tent. You heard laughter and glanced in, borrowed gun pointed in as you parted the flaps of the tent. But you immediately put your gun down. Rick was shirtless and all patched up, laughing with a woman who you’d seen the dark of the night before. You couldn’t help the rising feeling of jealousy, you’d never have that with Rick. The easy jokes, the equal ground. You were a prisoner, and you would likely die as one. But you couldn’t help the breathy “Rick,” that came out of your mouth when you realized that he was okay, and he wasn’t being tortured by enemies. He snapped his head over to you and stood.

“You’re okay,” he made his way over to you in three long strides, as if he couldn’t wait to be near you, and your heart swelled at the thought.

“So are you,” you whispered, and took a moment to look him over and let your body sag a little. You’d been so worked up that you had barely felt the pain of your wound.

“I didn’t know you were important to each other, I wouldn’t have let them shoot you,” the woman sort of apologized with a half smile and stood. “Let me get you something for the pain.”

It was then that she noticed the very silent camp, commented on it, and that’s when you looked down at your feet. Whoops, you’d let Bloodsport and Peacemaker kill an entire camp of rebels. People who were technically on your side. Waller had given you bad information.

Rick brushed a hand down your good arm and gently held you, pressing his thumb into your elbow as if making sure you were okay, that your pulse was strong.

“I was so worried,” he muttered, and you were sure only you heard it.

“So was I,” you looked up into his eyes, and if there wasn’t an audience, you would have kissed him then and there. Alas, you had another mission. Well, two. The first was to get the Thinker. The second one was to get Harley, and that was a plan you were ready for. You were down to clown, as Harley might say. As long as you had Rick by your side, you could do anything you set your minds to.

The Thinker would be frequenting one of his favorite bars, and as you left the shark dude in the bus you felt yourself relaxing a little upon entry. You knew bars. You knew how to blend in. You glanced over your shoulder, you couldn’t say the same for your teammates. So, you slinked away and found your way to the bar. The leader of the rebel camp provided you with a pair of stretchy black skinny jeans and a MCR band t-shirt. You’d fought harder battles in more confined clothing, so this wasn’t too bad.

“Una cerveza, por favor,” you spoke fluently. You grew up in the country, but your family was affluent and taught you several languages so that you could travel safely and easily.

The bartender smiled and grabbed you a bottle, and you watched the team gather around a table. They stuck out horribly, and you shook your head. Maybe with a few drinks in them they would loosen up, you watched as Peacemaker ordered drinks and nursed your own. You used to like drinking with friends, but other than Rick (and the missing Harley) you didn’t consider these people your friends. You had a tentative relationship with the Ratcatcher 2, and you were beginning to begrudgingly like Bloodsport. But, Polka-Dot Man freaked you out, Nanaue had the English understanding of a kindergartener, and Peacemaker was a dick.

“You going to join the team?” You failed to notice Rick coming over to you, and rolled your eyes, taking a sip as you mulled over your answer.

“Only if they start looking more interesting. You look like a bunch of tourists. I’d like to gather intel,” you scrunched up your nose at Rick and sipped at your beer.

“Yeah, you really look like you’re gathering intel, darlin’,” it was Rick’s turn to roll his eyes. “Sitting here, sipping on a beer and staring at us.”

You scoffed. How dare he call you out. But it was true, you were busy judging the team to actually get any good information.

“Fine, I’ll join you,” you swigged the last of your beer and glanced at the bartender. “¡Uno más!” You exclaimed, and the man smiled at you before grabbing you another ice cold bottle.

“You speak Spanish?” Rick raised an eyebrow at you.

“I speak a lot of languages,” you shrugged and took a swig of the drink before making your way to the now empty table. It seemed like your compatriots decided to go dancing. That left you with Rick.

“Oh yeah, and how did you come to know so many?” He seemed genuinely interested, though you were hesitant to talk about your past.

“My parents were diplomats and wanted me to be able to travel with them, so they had me learn Spanish, French, German, and Russian by the best tutors money could offer,” you shrugged, sort of stilted, at his curious glance.

“And I thought you were a thief because you were poor,” he shook his head with a smile. “Waller has very little info on you so I wasn’t sure.”

“My parents were cruel, and utilized their money to help bad people get into power,” you looked down at your lap. “I resent the things they taught me. And I tried my best to right the wrongs that people like them did.”

Rick sobered up and placed a hand on your arm.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he frowned and brushed his thumb over your skin. “I knew a little bit about your thievery and who you robbed and why, but it makes sense now. You were trying to help. I get it,” he sighed and took a sip of his drink while you downed yours. You hated talking about your family. You wanted to move on to something else. Anything else.

“I don’t want to talk about me anymore,” you sighed, brushing your hair out of your face and looking up into those beautiful eyes.

“What would you like to talk about then?” he whispered, not willing to break the reverie you were in. You were close, closer than you should be.

“I want to talk about you, Colonel,” you smirked and placed a delicate hand on his thigh. He dragged his eyes from that hand slowly up to your face.

“What do you wanna know, beautiful?” He smirked and blinked those pretty eyes at you. You’d both had too much to drink. It was a little scary making the first move, but you found him incredibly attractive and you were 99% sure he returned your feelings.

“I want to know,” you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. “What those lips would feel like against mine,” you wondered aloud, and his sharp inhale was all you had to go on before a gentle hand was turning your face to his. The kiss was gentle, tentative even, but that’s not what you wanted. You wanted everything that Rick Flag could give you and you tightened your grip on his thigh, hoping to convey your thoughts, when everything went to shit. Peacemaker jerked Rick away from you and Cleo pulled you towards a darkened corner of the room.

“They’re asking for IDs,” she hissed, pulling you towards where you saw Abner had the Thinker.

“But what about-” she shushed you as you glanced back, making strained eye contact with Rick. Maybe you could use your powers to get out of this. But… You looked at the Thinker. This was the mission. You looked back at Rick. Would you get your brains blown out to save him?

You made your way to the exit, finding your way to the van and getting out of there. You were only vaguely paying attention while you were in pursuit of the truck holding your … friends? You panicked for a moment when it crashed, and when you pulled to a stop you sprinted out of the van and over to the fiery wreckage, thoughts racing about what could have happened to Rick when he, Bloodsport, and Peacemaker burst through the doors like some sort of boy band.

You couldn’t care less though as you threw yourself into his surprised arms and pressed your lips to his.

“That was stressful and I didn’t like it,” you muttered against his lips, barely noticing Bloodsport rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Rick smiled and pulled away to look down at you. “This is pretty nice.”

You scoffed and grabbed at his hand, not willing to let go just yet, and dragged him to your vehicle.

“Shut it,” you muttered as you all gathered. All he responded with was a light chuckle.

Your next mission was saving Harley, but as it turned out, she was no damsel. You were on your way into the place she was being held when she walked down the street towards you.

“Hey, guys! Whatcha doin?” She was smiling brightly and you rolled your eyes at the situation before hugging her.

“We’re here to save you, obviously,” you muttered and she looked from you over your shoulder to Rick.

“You came back for me?” She whispered and Rick came over to you, Bloodsport rolling his eyes in the background.

“Yeah, it was a really good plan, too,” Rick muttered, but still hugged back when Harley threw herself into his arms.

“Well I can go back in and let you save me,” she offered and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not necessary, Harley. Now that we have you we can get back to the mission,” you patted her on the back and nodded to the rest of your team.

Now, you could say that you acted heroically and saved the day, but you and your ragtag team… You were amateur heroes. It was a shitshow. You were setting up explosives with Nanaue when you had that bad feeling again. The one you had when you were going into that bank in Gotham. Maybe it was your intuition, but you knew some shit was about to go down.

“Keep at it!” You shouted at the King Shark and raced your way down the stairs to where Peacemaker and Rick were headed. If you remembered their part of the plan correctly, they were with the Thinker, but something went wrong when you were about halfway down.

“Fuck!” You shouted as you heard a great BOOM. They’d set off the explosives too early. Maybe you should have stayed… You looked up at the dust coming down from above. Your brain was telling you to get out before the building collapsed on you, but your gut was telling you to make it to Rick.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you chanted as you raced down the stairwell, crumbling concrete raining down as you danced around to avoid it. Your stomach cramped in warning, and you crouched into a ball as the floor beneath you gave out and you fell several floors. When your falling came to a halt you took stock. There was rubble above you, but not crushing you. Your breathing was heavy and your heart raced as you clawed your way towards the fluorescent lighting. You grunted and groaned as your fingernails cracked and your fingers bloodied, but you were not about to die here.

You crawled out into the open and peered through the dark, dusty hallway. You didn’t see anybody, but you heard a scuffle and made your way towards the grunting and smashing sounds. The alarm bells started going off in your brain again, and you started running. Your feet pounded against the jagged edges of concrete on the ground but you didn’t stop. You whipped your pistol out when you came to the source of the sounds, but you froze.

Your eyes took in the scene very quickly, and you knew there was a decision to be made. You saw Cleo’s figure in the dark corner, eyes shining in the dusty haze. The others hadn’t seen her yet. At first glance, Rick was atop Peacemaker, and your initial thought was that he was winning this fight. But his eyes, wide and shocked, locked onto yours for merely a moment before he collapsed forward, a dead weight, and all of your breath left your body.

You also saw Peacemaker’s eyes shoot to a computer chip that had scattered across the floor right before you came in. Right before they shot over to you.

But you knew this: Peacemaker didn’t know who you were. He had no clue what you were capable of. He roughly pushed Rick’s body off of himself, but you were faster.

You put your hands in front of you, parallel to each other, and green mist started swirling around between them. You hadn’t had to use your powers to alter a scene this big or intense before, usually just using them on your own body, but you could do this. For Rick.

Suddenly everything slowed down, Peacemaker was still lying on the ground, Rick was face-first in the rubble, and Cleo was crouched in the dark, hand reaching out to the chip.

But you were alive as your powers raced through you. You had seen yourself in a mirror once as you used your powers, and you could imagine how you looked to them. Glowing green veins covered your skin as you altered the fabric of the universe itself. A wind picked up in the room, swirling in tandem with the green mist in your hands. You only needed a few moments. You didn’t need to go back and stop the fight, you just had to stop Peacemaker. You contorted your fingers and molded the green mist to your liking before throwing your arms wide, the green mist expanding to encapsulate yourself and the two men. You didn’t need to include Cleo, she wasn’t involved. The wind whipped around, the green mist blinding everyone but you, and things started to go into motion.

It would all happen very quickly for everyone involved. Just a rewind. But for you, you had to painstakingly watch as Rick’s body rose above Peacemaker, and you had to watch as the ceramic in his heart was drawn out. You had handcrafted this reality and you were forced to watch as your handiwork took place. But you had gotten to the moment you needed. They were near the end of the fight, Peacemaker had slammed Rick into a wall, and with a wave of your hand, the mist disappeared and everything was clear.

“Wait, what?” Peacemaker shot his eyes over to you, but he was too slow in his understanding. You had already whipped your pistol out of its holster and shot him twice in the throat. He grasped at his, trying to stifle the bleeding and crumpling to the ground, but your eyes were focused on Rick. A very shocked, but very alive Rick.

“What did you do?” He asked, and you weren’t sure if that was disgust or wonder in his voice, so you turned, walked slowly over to Cleo (who had witnessed the whole thing through a haze of green), and picked up the chip.

“I believe you were looking for this?” You asked, holding it out in front of yourself to him. He gulped, walking over to you, but your strength was draining from with a display of your powers. When he pulled the chip out of your hand and tucked it into your utility belt, you wavered, edges of your vision darkening as you slowly knelt to the ground.

“What are you doing, we need to get out of here?” Cleo shouted at you, but you waved her off.

“I just need to sit for a moment,” but your voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

“No you don’t,” Rick hauled you up by your armpits and lifted you into his arms, princess-style. “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered and followed Cleo out of the rubble and into the daylight. You squinted, the bright sun blinding you after being underground for so long.

“Shit,” you muttered, shoving your face into Rick’s neck to avoid the light.

“So,” he sounded very casual and you tensed up. “I really thought you weren’t going to use your rewind powers at all, what happened to make you use them?” You bit your lip, not sure what to say.

“Peacemaker killed you,” Cleo answered for you and Rick stopped walking. You winced and looked up at his face.

“I panicked,” you whispered, not sure how he was going to react. But when he turned his head to face you, it was as if he was looking at you for the first time.

“You saved my life?” He asked and it was your turn to gulp.

Okay, so maybe you had feelings for Rick. You knew that. He was a hot piece of ass, and he was kind, and he respected you. And you kissed at the bar and after the van chase. So he definitely knew you liked him. But did he know your feelings were deep enough to save his life and endanger your own in the process? Well… Now he did.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to lose you to that prick,” you tried to shrug it off, but Rick gently let your legs fall and your feet touch the ground. You weren’t sure what was happening until he reached out and pulled you into the warmest, most all-encompassing hug you had ever experienced.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he whispered into your hair, and you let yourself sigh and sink into the hug.

“Yeah well now you owe me one,” you muttered jokingly, trying to slightly ease the seriousness of the situation. He squeezed you tightly once more before pulling away and smirking.

“Anything you want, you can have,” he smiled that sunlight-bright smile at you and you blinked at him once before returning his smile.

“You can take me on a date once I’m out of prison, how does that sound?” You asked and his smile widened.

“I can do that.”

“That might be a lot sooner than you think,” Bloodsport had walked over to you and (you assumed) Cleo had explained everything to him. You blinked.

What did he mean by that?

Apparently he meant he was going to threaten Waller and keep the information hostage. It wasn’t exactly what Rick wanted, but he got out with his life, and you didn’t have to go back to prison. You were thinking about it as you settled into your new apartment, only two weeks after fighting Starro and killing Peacemaker, your first kill in years.

You were sitting on your comfy couch watching reruns of Adventure Time when Rick called you.

“Hey,” you answered warmly, and smiled at his voice when he responded.

“Hey, yourself. What’s up?” You drew a blanket over your lap and muted the TV.

“Just relaxing. What’s up with you?”

“I was thinking, how about I take you on that date tonight? I’ll pick you up at seven?” If your instincts were correct, and they usually were, he was nervous about it. He was unsure you would actually want him, considering how sheltered and uneven your relationship had been before. You were quick to dispel that.

“That sounds lovely, Rick,” you couldn’t help but bite your lip in anticipation when he hung up a few minutes later. You also couldn’t help the excited squeal you let out and the little dance you did. Things were finally falling into place.