#bear man deserves a proper beard

[skywerse]

The Grandberry Pirates!!!

[googleitlol]

I'm impatient so I'm getting right to what I wanna write. It doesn't take long for Zhenyuan to get back and figure out what happened to his tree and boy was he pissed.

He catches up pretty quick, fighting with the disciples before scooping them all up in his sleeve to take them back to the Abbey and make them pay for uprooting his ginseng tree. That's where the drama continues to unfold…

(PS this is a bit of a longer one)

Dove Masterlist:

Guan Yin

Last night was supposed to be relaxing, a break from camping in the wilderness. A moment of peace on this long and tedious journey. Now, after spending the entire night running away from the temple your group had disrupted, you all were presumably being taken back.

Zhenyuan, the immortal daoist that ran the temple and owner of the uprooted ginseng tree, had returned in the time your group made their escape. After fighting off the three demons followers of Tripitaka, the daoist managed to capture and drag you all back to the hall where the disciples were originally accused of thievery.

In the main hall once again, Zhenyuan orders his disciples to have you each tied to the pillars of the hall while the horse is left tied to a post at the gates outside. The immortal looks to his prisoners, his eyes shifting to each of you with a look of animosity. His violet cap nearly covers the stray crow feathers mixed amidst his hair, the pearl whit of his beard shows the extent of his time on the earth. If not for the current situation, you might have felt honoured to meet the old daoist.

One of his servants, likely one of the men he had taken with him on his previous trip, approaches. “What would you want done now, Master?”

The immortal whips his head towards his servant as he speaks, his frown deepening. “I’ve waited ten thousand years for my tree to bear its fruit. They will all be punished accordingly.” As he continues, he looks back to your group. “The Tang Monk is mortal, and so neither knives nor spears, hatchets nor battle-axes should be used.” Your hopes of survival widen at that, if only by a smidge. Perhaps you and Tripitaka could survive this after all. “Bring out the whip.”

Nevermind.

“What?!” Tripitaka shouts, his eyes wide as a disciple goes to fetch the whip. It’s quickly brought out, and you’re sure that if not for the rope keeping the monk tied to the pillar, his knees would have surely given out. You don’t trust any weapon owned by the immortal. Even if it wouldn’t kill a human, it surely won’t leave one in the state to travel ever again.

“You can start with the unworthy senior member of the party, the Tang Monk.” Zhenyuan orders, ignoring the man’s exclamation. “He will pay for the waste my years of labour has been reduced to.”

Before you can object, a voice calls out as the servant begins to wet the whip. “Wait!” The daoist looks to Sun Wukong, seemingly annoyed by his shouts. “Start with me, I’m the one who stole the fruit. I uprooted your tree.” Your brows lift up in surprise, his gaze refusing to look away from the immortal. He’s actually admitting to it? His eyes are wide, panicked as he speaks.

Zhenyuan grits his teeth, the confession only angering him further. “Insolent ape! Even if that is true, he should pay for not delivering the proper punishments for your offences.”

“He didn’t even know I did it!” Wukong objects. “When my brothers and I were asked by him and your disciples, I became spiteful and tried to trick them instead. If anyone deserves the punishment for your tree, it is me.” He lowers his head, as though he was ashamed.

You look at the demon, his head hanging low. It takes you a moment to realise you aren’t misinterpreting what is being said. Sun Wukong is really taking ownership of his actions. You never thought you would see the day.

Zhenyuan glares at the simian for a moment, sharp enough to pierce through solid iron. His servant looks up to him in silent confirmation, and after the passing of a moment, he nods. “Very well.”

With the command, the servant approaches the Monkey King instead. You watch, anxiety picking at your skin as the man raises his arm in preparation. Before your mind can register your mouth moving, you shout. “Stop!”

“What now?!” Zhenyuan’s head swivels to face you, his teeth gritting as the others turn to look at you more in confusion.

You take a moment to breathe, knowing what you have to do. You really didn’t want it to come to this, but there wasn’t much else of a choice. With one last glance of annoyance to Monkey, who was looking at you with wide confused eyes, you face Zhenyuan. “If you truly seek justice for your ginseng tree, we can revive it.” The daoist is silent for a split second before he keels over in laughter. “Revive it? And how would you do such a thing?” He asks, clearly amused by your claims.

Mentally preparing yourself, you shake your head. “I cannot give your tree new life, but I know who can. My master, Guan Yin.” Some of Zhenyuan’s disciples share looks of shock with one another at the mention of the bodhisattva’s name, some muttering to one another while the daoist remains still. “I am certain she has a cure to bring your tree back, I have seen her perform similar miracles before. If you release me, I can bring her here so she can heal it and bring your fruit back.”

The room becomes heavy in silence, the immortal narrowing his gaze as he considers your words. “And how can I trust that you won’t abandon these men to hide with your master?” He asks, gesturing to the pilgrims.

Before you can affirm your claim, Wukong jumps in with little hesitation. “I could go with her.” The response makes your stomach drop. Out of everyone in your party, why is he the one volunteering? Looking back to Tripitaka, his wide eyes seem to show he carries the same sentiments. “Trust me, if I tag along, Guan Yin will want to rush me back to my master as soon as possible.” You do suppose there was truth in the statement, though it carries truth in the context of any of the disciples leaving the monk. Nonetheless, the glare of the immortal slowly shifts. It feels clear how greatly he mourns his ginseng. You can’t blame him for his anger, after returning home to see the fruits of his labour be massacred in such a way. After a moment of contemplation, he sighs. “Very well, then. You have three days to return with your master.” As he speaks, his servants quickly approach you and Sun Wukong to untie you.

“Your companions will remain here under my care until you return. You have my word that no harm will come to them.” He promises, and you nod in thanks before looking back to Wukong, the two of you eyeing one another warily. You can only hope he isn’t doing this as some way to get back at you for slapping him. You doubt Tripitaka would believe any ‘unfortunate’ accidents that might happen on your way to Potalaka Mountain. You catch the poor monk’s eye, who’s making a terrible effort to conceal his lack of hope. You don’t blame him for the sombre look on his face, this very obviously isn’t how this stop was supposed to go. All you can hope for is that things can go smoothly from here.

One of Zhenyuan’s disciples ushers you and Wukong to the gates while others go to untie your companions. You can only manage to glance at your travel partner for a moment, uneasiness weighing you down inside. He looks just about as thrilled as you feel, which is more comforting than you thought it’d be. Better than seeing that devious telltale grin that usually meant he was up to something.

You think again of his confession to Zhenyuan, almost impressed by the fact he took sole ownership for what happened. It feels… uncharacteristic from what you’ve seen of him. At that moment, he had sounded genuinely concerned for Tripitaka. You always assumed he felt your travelling party was more an obligation, a means to his freedom. Even in his defence for his actions the night before, it sounded like he only used the disciples' rudeness towards his master as an excuse. But in the main hall with Zhenyuan, the trickster’s words truly felt honest.

The disciple leaves the two of you at the gates, and the tension only seems to grow in his absence. You quickly clear your throat, averting your eyes to the path instead of looking to the demon. “We should be on our way, then. We don’t have much time.”

He replies with only a grunt, supposedly in agreement, and the two of you begin your trek away from the abbey and towards Potalaka Mountain. The silence feels thick as you move, this tense feeling of awkwardness almost drowning you. It felt so normal to be bickering and at odds with the demon, and not having to deal with his insipid jabs for once feels off.

“…I didn’t expect you to volunteer yourself like that.” You finally break the silence, glancing to the side to see him rolling his eyes.

The monkey looks away, seemingly irritated from how he crosses his arms. “Things were easier before this stupid journey. I can handle any sort of punishment because I– I’m me! Poor Master is so frail, his heart might have given out before the whip could even touch him.” He shakes his head with a prolonged sigh. “I never intended for him to face the consequences of my actions. You were… right.”

The gasp that escapes your lips catches even you off guard, though not as much as hearing those words come from the supposed Great Sage himself. “What was that?” You look at him with wide eyes, the demon grumbling when he glances at your expression. Hearing the Great Sun Wukong admit not only that he was wrong, but that you were right? You’re almost feel unable to comprehend how he continues to surprise you.

“I won’t repeat it a second time. You heard me, woman.” You can’t help but grin at his seeming annoyance, amused by his obvious reluctance in admitting his wrongdoings. Despite how much you enjoy this, though, you can’t help but truly feel… you’re not quite sure. You have always been so sure of the Monkey King’s inherently selfish nature, seeing him act in any way that doesn’t align with it felt unnatural. “Why did you stop Zhenyuan?”

The question takes you off guard, the amusement dropping from your face when you take in the inquisitive look on Wukong’s face “What?”

The monkey demon smirks, a brow lifting at the sense of the tables turning in the conversation. “You didn’t think a little flogging could really hurt me, did you?” He leans over, stopping you in your tracks with a raised brow. “I honestly thought you would have revelled in my pain.”

“Don’t think so low of me.” You roll your eyes, resting a hand on your hip and glancing away. “The thought of asking my master for help came to me just moments before. Zhenyuan would have moved onto the rest of us after you anyways. I’m not so cruel as to watch another get whipped just because of my own feelings, even if that person is you.”

“Could have fooled me.” He laughs, making you scoff. There’s that annoying monkey you’re used to. Done with the conversation, you transform and take flight, in hopes of making the detour home quicker. You assume he’ll follow suit.

What you don’t expect is to be plucked from the air, ochre arms taking hold of your small form. You jump in a panic, your wings flapping manically before hearing Wukong’s sour tone of voice. “Stop! Calm yourself, Dove, the trip will be faster if I carry you.” He explains, huffing in a bit of amusement as he adds, “Your wings aren’t nearly as swift as my cloud.”

Of course he has to get one last jab in. You don’t find yourself too annoyed with it, though. If anything, it means you get to sit back and enjoy the sky instead of exhausting yourself. You silently tuck in your wings and try to relax, despite how bizarre this felt. It really crossed your mind earlier that Wukong volunteering was his way of making your death look like an accident, and you still haven’t crossed that situation out as a possibility. However, you can’t deny how you’re taken by surprise with how gently he holds you. He carries you in one arm, his other shielding you from the strong winds rushing past.

Though, despite the protection from the powerful gusts, you can’t help but reel from the whiplash of it all. So many of his words, his actions in these last few hours clashed with the loud and brash monkey you know him to be. Of course, you never really expected him to be heartless, but you find yourself surprised nonetheless. Atop Sun Wukong’s somersault cloud, it hardly takes any time before you spot Potalaka Mountain in the distance. In a blink, you start to feel your stomach twisting. Seeing your home again, it feels almost surreal after so long. If it wasn’t for the pressing matters you returned for, you would love to see everyone again. The mountain itself is beautiful, flowers of every kind paint freckles of colour over the grassy green surface. Bodies of water trailing from the top of the mountain run down in graceful twists, trees older than yourself towering over bushes of berries. As Wukong begins your descent, you notice the village home of your old friends. It seems bustling with life, but before you can take in anymore of the small home, you pass by it on the cloud.

Facing forward once more, you find yourself heading towards a nostalgically familiar bamboo grove. The cloud disappears, the Monkey King landing as you transform back and take in a deep breath. You quickly turn to Wukong. “Thank you, Great Sage. I am grateful for the… quicker trip.”

The King gives you a funny look, perhaps because of the more formal thanks but is unable to respond before you turn back towards the grove. You can feel her presence, an aura you can recognise even on the other side of the mountain. She emerges from the grove, a serene figure cloaked in white holding her precious vase in one arm, a willow branch in the other. A small smile emerges from the warm feeling that grows in your chest when you see her, and you quickly bow in greeting.

“Hello, Master. I–” You can barely continue when your words get stuck in your throat, caught by surprise when you feel Guan Yin’s arms wrap around you in a warm embrace, pulling you closer.

“It is good to see you again, my little Dove.” Any resolve you had mustered quickly dissipates at her words and you quickly find yourself returning the gesture, holding your master tightly in your arms.

Your smile cracks wider ever so slightly when you feel her embrace tighten. “It is good to see you as well, Master. I’ve missed you.”

You slowly release from the reunion, your mind brought back to the problem at hand when you see Guan Yin glance back at Sun Wukong. “And I see you brought company as well.” You turn to look at the demon yourself, the man giving a somewhat awkward wave to the bodhisattva, his worried smile saying enough about the situation. “Tell me, if the two of you are here, where have you left the Tang Monk?”

“About that, our travelling companions seem to have found themselves in some trouble.” You lower your gaze as you speak, searching your mind for the right thing to say. You felt bad having to come here and bother the bodhisattva at all, and now the words feel caught in your throat.

“I angered the Great Immortal Zhenyuan, Bodhisattva.” Sun Wukong steps forward, in front of you. “I stole some of his ginseng fruit. When his disciples accused us of stealing, I struck down the tree in a bout of anger. Now we have come to ask for your help in restoring it.”

The answer makes Guan Yin’s eyes widen, and you look away when you feel her gaze focus on you. “My help?” She sounds surprised, but you keep your eyes trained to the ground. Even without looking, you can hear the smile in her voice. “I am impressed.”

The words have your head whip back to face her, your mouth almost going agape. Even your monkey companion shares a look of befuddlement. Impressed? By what?! “You are?”

Slipping the willow branch into her other hand, Guan Yin holds out a hand that you take, bringing you closer as she addresses Wukong. “My little Squab has always made it a point to show her independence. Though, it was the right decision to call on me for this. I will revive the ginseng tree.” She looks at you with the same comforting smile you’ve seen since you were a child, and it quickly absolves your anxieties. You had been worried that asking for her assistance on a matter like this would be tedious to her, but the bodhisattva quickly settled your fears with her words of reassurance.

“Squab?” Wukong snorts, quickly dragging you back into reality with his snickering.

You feel your face flush, and try your best to ignore the ape. “Shall we be on our way, Master?” You clear your throat and turn to face her. The Bodhisattva lets out a titter of amusement herself, which does little to tone down the growing warmth of your face.

Luckily, she doesn’t comment on it. “Yes, the faster your journey can continue, the better.” With her words, you turn back into your dove form.

This time, Guan Yin is who you accompany on the flight back to the Abbey, perching on her shoulder. Fortunately enough for you, the importance of the situation at hand left little time for conversation between Wukong and Guan Yin. You soon catch sight of the home of Zhenyuan once more. As you descend, you spot a servant catching sight of your group and quickly run inside.

By the time you reach the ground and transform back, the old immortal Zhenyuan, accompanied by your own travelling companions, are at the gates of the temple ready to meet you. “Bodhisattva Guan Yin, it is an honour to have you with us.” The daoist bows in greeting, your master doing the same.

“Thank you, Great Immortal. The Great Sage and my disciple have informed me of your misfortune.” She nods politely, gesturing to the two of you. “Please, bring me to your ginseng tree so that I may restore it.”

“Of course.” At her request, your group is led to the gardens. You follow behind your Master, your companions a little ways behind. There’s a slight tension in the air you try your best to ignore while you are all escorted to the tree, a nervousness amongst the others. Maybe they were unsure of whether Guan Yin can do what you said she could, but if that is the case, there’s no need for them to be antsy. You have faith in your master. Entering the garden, the damage outshines the beauty of every other plant in the space. Grass and dirt overturned surrounds the thick roots that point up towards the sky. Shrivelled leaves lay scattered beneath the branches they once decorated, pieces of bark and twigs chip off the trunk, the aftermath of prideful destruction.

The group looks back at the Monkey King, who lets out an uncomfortable chuckle. Guan Yin raises an unimpressed brow, and points to the tree with her willow branch. “Sun Wukong, will you step forward, please?” With a small nod, he complies. “The hand that fell this tree will be the one to lift it back up.”

The Bodhisattva dips her willow branch into her vase, using it to brush a charm onto the sage’s hand before closing his fist. “Now, place your hand at the base of the tree, and– do you perhaps own a jade ladle?” She turns to Zhenyuan.

“We have wine goblets and tea cups made of jade.” The daoist responds, and she nods.

“Good, have one brought here.” Guan Yin smiles, and he turns to give one of his servants the silent command to retrieve one while she returns her attention to Wukong. The demon places his fist against one of the roots of the tree, one of the few that were still in contact with the ground. The dirt beneath the root starts to tremble as he follows her instructions, the ground dampening before a pool of water spurts up from below. A few of the disciples gasp at the trick, though Guan Yin remains unfazed. “Thank you, Great Sage. Now, if you would please reorient the tree to its original position.” Wukong is quick to obey, lifting the tree with relative ease and placing it carefully back so that its branches could reach up once more. The Bodhisattva then has several of their observers help in covering the roots with more soil, you and your fellow companions putting a hand in yourselves.

Just as you all finish in replanting the tree, the servant returns with the jade goblet. Once it is given to Guan Yin, she hands it to Sun Wukong. “Use this to pour the water over the tree. Once you have done that, the bark and the roots will grow back together. The leaves will come out, the branches will turn green, and the fruits will appear.”

The Monkey King nods, following the bodhisattva’s instructions and uses the jade goblet to scoop up the water from the ground. On his cloud, he hovers over the tree before drizzling the water over its branches. Guan Yin begins to recite a spell under her breath and as the water makes contact, the leaves begin to grow once more. The spots where the bark had chipped away reemerge and the uniquely-shaped ginseng begin to grow and ripen spontaneously. The servants and disciples of the temple begin to murmur amongst one another, shocked by the miracle performed.

However, it is Zhenyuan whose voice carries above them all. “Thank you, Bodhisattva.” He is almost beaming with joy as he speaks, relief transcribed over his expression. “This deed must be celebrated. Please, allow me to hold a feast in your honour. To celebrate the revival of my ginseng tree.”

Your master looks at you with a smile, one you return happily. You guess it was a good thing to have called on her for assistance after all. “Of course, I accept.” With that, Zhenyuan and Guan Yin left to speak while you finally have a chance to speak with your friends that were left behind. Tripitaka is the first to approach you, relief radiates off him in waves. “Thank goodness you came back. I’m impressed with how quickly you were able to return.” He admits, looking over to where Monkey King was talking to Sandy and Pigsy. “I thought you and Pilgrim Sun would have more of a… difficult time reaching Potalaka Mountain.”

“The trip was… quiet.” You give a shy smile, not sure how else to describe the short journey. Surprising was the first word that came to mind when describing it, but you’d rather not have to explain why the monkey’s actions felt so surprising to you.

As though he could sense being thought of, Sun Wukong jumps between the two of you, taking Tripitaka by surprise. “Looks like everything has turned out alright in the end. Right, Squab?”

“Squab?” You let out a groan when Tripitaka echoes the nickname. He really isn’t letting that one go anytime soon, is he?

With a sigh, you begin to walk away from the boys. “If the two of you would excuse me, I would like to catch up with my master while she is still in our company.” You dismiss yourself, walking just a little faster than normal to get away from the irritating face of that demon. Even when he’s out of sight, his snickering echoes through the halls as you go to find Guan Yin.

~~~~

As night creeps upon the Abbey, Sun Wukong and his companions gather in the main hall for the feast hosted by Zhenyuan. As the feast is in her honour, Guan Yin sits at the centre of the table, the Tang Monk to her right and her young disciple to her left. Pigsy and Sandy join their master on his right while the Monkey King sits to the right of Zhenyuan and the left of Dove, though her other name is beginning to grow on him. With the matter of his tree resolved, Wukong feels as though Zhenyuan is much easier to get along with. The two have already spent some time talking and, well, having fun drinking. This was a side of the old man Wukong could really appreciate.

Only when the immortal excuses himself for a moment does the Monkey King begin to pay attention to the other side of the table. His fellow brothers and master seem to be deep in conversation with the bodhisattva, sharing with her chronicles of their journey thus far. “And she dove into the river while the others were planning on how to bring you onto land?” 

“I was so confused as it happened, until I recognised her, of course.” Sandy laughs, the girl in question offering a timid smile as he does. Wukong can’t help but furrow his brows at her change in demeanour. He questions whether or not it was possible for her to sit straighter, her body language tense. The usually bossy know-it-all is somehow even more composed than usual, it’s almost scary. “Our little Soother tells us she has been your disciple since childhood, is that true?”

The King almost misses the twitch in Guan Yin’s smile. “Yes, she has always been one of my most faithful. Despite the occasional pranks she would play, she has always been quite attentive from a young age.”

The room goes silent at that. Wujing looks between the Dove and her master, bug-eyed, Wukong himself feeling his mouth go agape. The pig lets out a dry laugh. “Pranks? Her??” The four men all look over to Dove, her eyes practically burning holes into the table, her cheeks growing red for the second time that day.

Guan Yin laughs softly. “Yes, it wasn’t a rare sight to see Moksa angrily chasing after her through my grove. I remember when she made him believe she had killed my favourite fish from my pond. The poor prince was distraught at the thought of me finding out.”

“Oh, really?” Wukong jumps into the conversation at that, leaning against the table to get a better look at the woman’s burning face. “Now that you mention it, I can see Squab being a bit of a troublemaker.” Her eyes flash to him as he calls her by Guan Yin’s nickname, the flames in her eyes so palpable he can almost feel their heat. Despite the very obvious anger, however, she remains silent aside from a quiet, “Hhmph.” The lack of reaction only makes the King grin. She’s obviously holding her tongue because of her master, maybe they could call Guan Yin in for some favours more often if it results in this. Wukong could get used to this poised-yet-flustered birdie.

Whether Guan Yin is aware of her disciple slowly dying from embarrassment, she doesn’t show it. “I wouldn’t say she was any trouble for us, those jokes were merely harmless fun. If anything, seeing how they made her light up was reassuring, with how reserved she was when she first came to me.” Reserved? The master and disciple look to one another, something silent in their eyes speak to one another, but before Wukong can get either to elaborate further, Zhenyuan returns.

“The food has been prepared. But before we feast, I would like to offer you all a serving of the fruit that was saved today.” He addresses the table as servants follow him into the hall, each presenting a plate of the very ginseng that Guan Yin had restored.

Thanking their host, the travellers begin to eat, Wukong remembers it well from the first fruit he stole and partly wonders if eating the fruit twice now means he has ninety-four thousand years added to his multiple immortalities. The fruit is bitter, with subtle sweet notes followed by a bit of an earthy aftertaste. As he eats, he looks to his fellow brothers at the table, enjoying the fruit. Tripitaka makes a slight face at the first bite, likely not expecting its taste while Guan Yin… she somehow looks even more serene and composed while eating the fruit.

That’s when he notices the Dove. She’s still, her fruit laying in front of her uneaten. It doesn’t take long for the bodhisattva to notice, either. She silently places a hand on her shoulder, snapping the woman out of wherever her mind had wandered. “Are you alright?” Her voice is hushed, though Wukong’s more superior hearing is able to catch her words easily.

“Yes, thank you. I just find it a little funny, I suppose.” She gives the woman a smile, and though her master returns it, Wukong can’t help but feel there was something underneath the expression.

Her eyes are sympathetic. “I know, you feel it is too late. It’s not what I planned for you, but after all this time, you deserve something for your efforts.” Wukong feels lost in the conversation, likely a sign that he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but his curiosity will always get the better of him.

Dove sighs, her eyes falling back onto the fruit on her plate. “What was planned or not, everything I have has been given to me by you.” She looks back to her master, the bodhisattva’s smile dropping. “Now, what you’ve done today has given me something new. Thank you.”

“And who brought me here to revive the fruit?” Guan Yin questions. “Everything I’ve given you is what you have earned. Never forget that, Squab.” She brings the woman’s plate closer, the disciple nodding before taking the fruit in her hands.

“…Of course, Master.” She smiles, taking her first bite of the fruit. Sun Wukong can’t help but frown before turning back to his own plate. What were they talking about? Whether it’s his business or not, the Monkey King feels intrigued now!

Would she tell him if he asked? Likely not, but the monkey is sure he can figure it out one way or another. He’s clever when he wants to be, this surely won’t be too difficult to figure out. Besides, he has the rest of their journey to ask about it.

[yawnderu]

Halsin deserves a beard and body hair and I will forever stand by that. He’s already massive as an elf so why didn’t they just sprinkle in a lil hair? It wouldn’t be out of question ☹️ HE’S A BEAR.

YESYES!! I swear, they missed out the chance of giving us a proper, hairy lad. He's a massive man, couldn't they afford to give him plenty of body hair? :(

[eirinstiva]

"I had no man."

The second part of "The Rest Cure" arrived today, and because this is one of my favourite stories of the Rafflesian Canon (?), it's harder than usual to comment because [heavy breathing].

What with his flourishing beard and the increasing shabbiness of the only suit he had brought with him to the house, there was no denying that Raffles had now the advantage of a permanent disguise.

This is the start of Bunny's revenge, and this time Manders left the idea mature all the night. This is not something that he's doing on impulse, this is Bunny showing his own criminal ability.

She was a tall woman; I was not too tall a man. Like Raffles, I had not shaved on Campden Hill. That morning, however, I did my best with a very fair razor which the colonel had left behind in my room; then I turned out the lady's wardrobe and the cardboard boxes, and took my choice.

Bunny knows that he's short, he can't grow a proper moustache and beard, and maybe he needed a haircut soon. He used all of this as resources to his disguise. Bunny used makeup, curled his hair and dressed with almost all the necessary (I'm sure the shoes like the gloves didn't fit him) to get what he wanted:

My idea was first to give him the fright he deserved, and secondly to show him that I was quite as fit to move abroad as he.

But Murphy's Law strikes! And the drama starts.

I had no man. I was alone, had broken in alone. There was not a soul in the affair (much less the house) except myself. So much I stuttered out in tones too hoarse to betray me on the spot. 

Who can save this poor lady Bunny in distress? Raffles! He got hurt but at least they kepy everything controlled.

It was Raffles at his worst, Raffles as I never knew him before or after—a Raffles mad with pain and rage, and desperate as any other criminal in the land. Yet he had struck no brutal blow, he had uttered no disgraceful taunt, and probably not inflicted a tithe of the pain he had himself to bear. 

I would love to see Bunny and Raffles running away while keeping their disguises just like ACD's story The Man with the Watches. At least in this story nobody dies.

This is the one of the most queer moments of Raffles and Bunny's stories with them sharing a house like a couple and Bunny dressed as a woman. Sometimes I think that Manders is too comfortable with this costume except for the clothes being not appropiate for the season and my bi-fi screams "genderqueer" and "non binary". Also this reminds me of Sherlock Holmes dressing as a woman in The Mazarin Stone, so this feels like Bunny left for a moment his Boswell role and become the protagonist.

I was thinking that Raffles getting so dangerous when Bunny or Faustina are in danger reminds me of saiyans leveling up and unlocking new powers.

By the way, I want to read this reference cited on Wikipedia: Yue, Isaac (2015). Translating Culture: Late-Victorian Literature into Chinese. London: National Taiwan University Press. pp. 19–36. ISBN 978-986-350-070-4.

Hong Kong University Professor Isaac Yue has noted that some elements of "The Rest Cure" hint at a homosexual relationship between Raffles and Bunny. For example, Bunny shows a strong desire for Raffles's attention, while there is no female character diverting Bunny's attention. Moreover, the contrast between Bunny's female dress and Raffles's long beard suggests that Bunny is characterized in the role of the female and Raffles is characterized in the role of the male in their relationship.[5] Yue argues that Hornung's portrayal of the relationship between Raffles and Bunny violates the traditional Victorian family values of strict and separate gender roles for men and women.

I'm tempted to write more about this, maybe a fanfic, but English is so hard! See ya~

[those70scomics]

Fictober Day 14: "did you stick to the plan?"

That '70s Show Fanfiction

Laurie had washed paint off her hands as best she could, but some baby blue remained on her pinky. She'd try again later. Irritating her skin with hard scrubbing was not part of her cleansing routine. The candy pink paint washed right off, though. If she believed in signs, which she didn't, she'd have her future shopping list taken care of.

Her husband, Tim, met her in the bedroom. He was a broad, tall, teddy bear of a man who was far kinder than she thought she deserved. But his kindness was genuine and not reserved only for her. He scratched his closely-cut brown beard and said in his deep, sonorous voice, "Did you stick to the plan?"

She held up her baby-blue pinky. "It's drying in the den."

"You know, if you really wanted to wait -- " Tim held her around the waist -- "I could add that painting to your first show at the gallery."

"That's not for months. I enjoy torturing my mom, but I can't do that to my dad." She eyed their bed, only a foot away. "We could try for the weirdest twins in history."

Tim laughed, a sound she adored. "I don't think biology works that way."

"We could pretend it does."

He laughed again and kissed her. She wanted to give into her desire, but more practical matters had to be dealt with.

"How do I wrap a painting so it doesn't get ruined?" she said.

"I'll take care of that. I'll teach you when it's time. How do you think your folks will react to the present you made them?"

Laurie sat on the edge of the bed. Her painting depicted herself holding a non-descript bundle wrapped in a blue and pink blanket. "My mom'll get it after a second and go nuts. My dad'll be clueless until my mom yells at him that we're having a baby."

"You sure your dad's ticker can handle it?"

"Oh, he's healthier than he's ever been. I'm not worried." Too worried, if she were being truthful. Her marriage to Fez little more than a decade ago had given him a heart attack. Her act of goodwill nearly killed her dad, but he wasn't happy about what she'd done then. He'd be thrilled to learn he was going to be a grandpa. "I hope the painting'll be dry by tomorrow when we visit them."

"It should be. You didn't use oil paints." Tim pulled an envelope from the back pocket of his jeans. He passed it to her and sat on the bed. "This was in the morning mail."

Her dad had sent it; she recognized his handwriting on the envelope. Tim plunked down beside her as she opened the letter. It contained the design Dad had asked her to paint on his car for his and Mom's Halloween party. "This is more gruesome than I expected." She hugged the design to her chest. "I'm so proud!"

She let Tim study what her dad had drawn, and he said, "Wow, yeah. You're going to turn his car into a fright-fest. I can't wait to see how you approach this. ... If my art gallery were big enough, I'd do an exhibit of cars painted not to look like cars."

"Someday." She rubbed his knee. "You can rent out a proper save for that. But this -- " she pointed at her dad's design -- "will mean staying with my parents for a few days, starting October 29th."

"That's fifteen days from now, so we'll have to make the most of them."

His impish smile inspired her to kiss him again, but he said afterward, "Be careful when you work on that car. I don't want you to hurt yourself or our baby."

"He or she will be the size of a plumb. It'll be safe. It's morning sickness I'm worried about. So far, it hasn't been too bad. And I'm using washable paint in my dad's garage, not the muffler shop. The smells shouldn't bother me ... "

"I'll make sure you have crushed ice and buckets and a proper mask, just in case."

"Thank you, sweetie -- " She froze. She'd sounded just like her mom. If that was a consequence of becoming a mother herself ... she'd learn to accept it.

[silver-tangent]

So I'm in the process of worldbuilding a little bit, and decided to share a tidbit about catfolk to a group chat... what followed, I think deserves to be immortalized both in my future manuscripts and on Tumblr...

[Transcript: A screenshot of text that reads, 'to catfolk, flirting means fighting. This can be confusing for outsiders, especially if they hear a catfolk speak of the male, "overpowering the female as if they were wild cats," however it's a very consensual affair. Forcing ones self upon another is grounds for execution in their society, but if one wanted to bed a cat woman, he would have to defeat her in open combat. When two catfolk are interested in each other, the first- traditionally the woman- verbally taunts her would-be mate. If interested the mate then responds with a rebuttal, and if that rebuttal is met with a challenge, that is seen as consent. They then partake in a contest named by the challenger- traditionally unarmed combat, and if the challenger loses, then the challenged has won their courtship. Obviously this has led to a lot of confusion between catfolk and other humanoids' -courtship ideals, catfolk. By me

'Traditionally this contest is unarmed combat, but in modern society it can be any contest. A game of darts, ping pong, a board game...'

/.End Transcript]

[Transcript: someone says, 'a good ambassador would be priceless in the world you speak of.'

response, 'Best part of that, and I hadn’t even thought of this, their closest non-furry neighbors are the dwarves… Which means, yes… a handful of dwarves have indeed woken up confused to discover they’re married to a cat… a cat that they remember drinking under the table after it said something about his fortitude… And yes, Drogan 'Pussybeard' Bjornsson did honor their marriage and really does love his cat wife… he was just really confused about the whole ordeal at first' /.End Transcript]

[Transcript: continued, 'Drogan wakes up, takes a big yawn and stretch, smacks his lips a couple of times, removes hair from his mouth, and goes 'that’s not me beard hair…' Cat wife: 'morning Hun!' Drogan: hard reboot

Later, Drogan: 'so yer saying that by your traditions we’re married.' Cat wife: 'well technically we’re just mates. It’s an open courtship that you’re free to end at any time.' Dwarf: 'oh noh, lass! Yer in me bed, and yer hair is in me mouth… I’d be a damn dishonorable dwarf if I din’t make ye a proper bride!!” Cat wife: “you… you don’t have to if you don’t want… there’s no obligation…' Drogan: 'nuh uh. Drunk Drogan is a better judge of character than sober Drogan. Yer a proper pretty woman ye are, an I am a man of the cloth. By muh oath to Muradin I insist ye let us be wed posthaste, if ye be consentin to it. You can say no, I ain’t kidnapping ye… but I have a mind to court the women I kiss, and marry the women I… err… kiss harder… so I’m invested in this relationship if you are…' Cat wife: blushing emojii, 'that was adorable, let’s go on a date first…'

/.End Transcript]

[Transcript: Continued, 'Alternatively. Cat wife: 'and what if I'm not a woman?' Drogan: 'all of my people have beards below our bellybuttons, do ye think we give two shits about heteronormativity??' /.End Transcript]

[Transcript] Question, 'Would the, ah, natural method of reproduction bear any fruit?'

Answer, 'They would be munchkin Scottish Folds...' /.End Transcript]

[Image ID: Someone asks, 'will they have long fur or have large that just keeps growing?'

In response to the question is an image of an extremely hairy kitten with eyes looking in either direction. They are more fur than kitten. /.End ID]

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Hart and Hunter - Chapter 16 - Part 1 

*Warning Adult Content*

Julian Hart

Despite Dane's attentions, I wake up in pain and after a light breakfast, I decide to take Chloe's advice.

The urgent care is mercifully empty and I don't have to wait long to be seen. 

A couple of X-Rays reveal Chloe was right... I've got two hairline fractures and I need a partial cast.

That takes a while and the nurse keeps asking me weird questions about my home life while I wait.

Finally, with a brand new cast and a prescription for painkillers in hand, I rejoin Dane, who's been waiting for me in the café across the street. 

Now that my arm no longer hurts, my appetite returns and I grab a pastry and a coffee before we head for his car.

Awkwardly juggling several items with one hand while trying to open the door, I drop the bundle of papers and pamphlets the nurse had given me.

I'd thought it was just instructions for the proper care and wearing of a cast but as Dane bends to collect them, I see she'd slipped something else in as well. 

"Domestic violence?" he lifts his brows at me as he examines the pamphlet.

My face warms as the nurse's strange questions make more sense. 

"I said I tripped." 

"Hmm. And the injuries are probably more consistent with a twisting motion than with an impact," Dane says, rubbing the back of my neck with his free hand.

"Speaking of, you sure you're up for this? You don't have to talk to him in person, you know. In fact, you don't have to talk to him at all." 

I know what he means and shake my head. 

Ian Foley and I had a history... one I'd only barely managed to put behind me in the past year.

I'd forgiven him for hurting me and I was glad he'd finally moved on and forgiven himself as well but seeing him still raised painful memories. 

He'd also helped save my life last year and lost his father in the process.

Dane would say he didn't deserve an award for acting like a decent person but I knew he'd changed at least as much as I had since the brief time we'd been together. 

"He could have valuable input," I say.

"And some things are easier to explain face to face. Besides, what if he's on grandma's hit list?" 

"Eh," Dane shrugs.

"You win some, you lose some."

 I shoot him a look but bite back a smile.

Ian's not his favorite person, either. 

"Come on," I say, handing the rest of my things to him as I climb into the car.

"Play nice and let's get this over with." 

Ian Foley is tall and bulky, with red hair, a beard,and a patch over one eye, he looks like a cross between a Viking and a pirate and dresses like a lumberjack.

His remaining eye is bright blue and when he Shifts, he takes the form of a great bear.

He'd agreed to meet us at Lagrange's shop for a proper investigation of the tunnels.

We're expecting Halloran to join us but I'm surprised to see that Ian has brought his new boyfriend, Sam, along as well. 

After losing his Dad, Ian had taken off on some kind of soul-searching trip up north.

I'd honestly thought he hadn't meant to come back but he had... minus an eye and plus Sam.

They were clearly happy together and I didn't grudge either of them that. 

Sam is short and slender, with sleek black hair, dark eyes and pale gold-toned skin.

He looks too young to have anything to do with Ian's thirty-something but apparently, half his consciousness belongs to an ancient demon and he holds his own.

He's got the larger man wrapped around his little finger, anyway, which is proof enough. 

Ian waves and smiles as we approach, while Sam's expression remains guarded.

I don't know Sam all that well, but it seems he's got something of a possessive streak.

Which I suppose makes sense, for a demon.

"Ian, thanks for coming and Sam," I offer what I hope is a warm smile.

"I don't know if we'll find any ghosts down there but I'm glad you're here, too." 

Sam frowns at me.

"I don't just 'see ghosts.' If there's anything demonic, I'll sense it, as well as portals to 'fairy-hell' or whatever. I'm just here to keep Ian safe, anyway." 

I glance at the larger man, whom I've seen fight off multiple werewolves single-handedly and hope the skepticism doesn't show on my face. 

Ian flushes a little and rubs the back of his neck as his eyes stray to my fresh cast.

"Sam's a little worried about this killer grandma of yours, is all. Sounds like she's got a grudge."

"Sounds like she may have a right to one, from what we've gathered so far," Dane says.

"You know anything about that?" Ian shakes his head.

"Chloe filled me in last night but none of it rang a bell," he sighs.

"I've said it a hundred times and I'll say it a hundred more but I wish my Dad were here. He knew all the family legends and lore... not just ours but other Clans, too." 

"He didn't happen to write any of it down, did he?" Dane asks. 

"Nah. It was, uh... 'oral tradition, he called it. S'posed to pass it down in stories, father to son." 

"But he never did?" 

"Uh, well..." Ian flushes as red as his checkered shirt.

"He might've but I don't recall." 

Dane scowls, Sam bristles and I move to intervene. 

Ian probably has at least one learning disability, which is only one of several reasons he might not remember things.

Before I can speak up in his defense, however, Halloran arrives, followed closely... to my surprise... by Ingrid, Chloe and Grace. 

Suitably distracted, we turn to greet the newcomers and make introductions. 

"This isn't a guided tour, you know," Halloran says, eying the three women doubtfully.

"It'll be dirty and possibly dangerous down there and we don't know what we'll find." 

I wince as I see three pairs of eyebrows lift at his words but Dane surprises me and speaks first. 

"I can vouch for them," he says.

"They've all got useful skills or knowledge and we'll have safety in numbers." 

Halloran frowns but nods.

"Very well. We'll go in pairs then. I think I've brought enough torches for everyone." 

He opens the bag of gear he'd brought along and hands small flashlights around.

I also glimpse a pair of helmets, lengths of rope and some equipment I recognize as climbing gear but can't name. 

"What's that for?" I ask. 

"The cavern," he says.

"Just in case we discover another passageway." 

Inside, Dane pulls back the rubber mat concealing the trapdoor and opens it.

The square of blackness in the floor yawns wide and Sam shrinks back with an expression of distaste. 

"What is it?" I ask, wondering if there might be ghosts after all but Ian slips an arm around Sam's shoulders. 

"You don't gotta go down there if you don't want to, darlin'," he says in an undertone.

"I'll be just fine." 

"Nope," Sam shakes his head stubbornly.

"Where you go, I go, remember?" 

I bite back a smile.

Part demon or not, I don't know how a guy who gives off kitten vibes plans to protect a guy who can turn into a bear.

Then again, like most of our friends, there's probably more to Sam than meets the eye. 

"Wow. This is amazing," Grace exclaims as we descend the steps into the tunnel.

"The Historical Society would kill to get down here. Well, not literally." 

"Maybe literally," Chloe counters.

"I've been to one of their meetings, remember?" Grace giggles and the sound echoes up and down the tunnels like a flock of small birds.

She covers her mouth with her hands in apology but no one minds.

I certainly don't... the place seems far less creepy and forbidding, with a group of friends at my side and Dane at my back. 

[lonely-lost-soul]

Blood for the Blood God

(Technoblade x Reader)

gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss.

~~~

A young hybrid stood at the edge of the world, his pink hair tied up in a bun, face free of scars he’d acquired in his later years, and he looked decades younger. A diamond-encrusted dagger rested against his hip in its holder, his feet nervously tapped on the dirt. Silence surrounded him, maybe he should’ve told Phil where he was going, what he was going to do, the deal he was about to make. There were no trees on the cliffside, no signs of life anywhere for miles, in fact, he wasn’t sure if he stepped into another realm altogether. It was just him, the cliff, and of course the ancient scrolls in his bag. Technoblade frowned slightly thinking back on his old friend once more, would Phil’s family and his old friend be disappointed in his choices. Did he even care? He swallowed thickly holding out his hand, he pulled out a dagger from its holder, and drug it across his palm. Blood spilled from the wound, Technoblade let out a hiss of pain watching the blood pool in his palm. He held his hand out over the void and let a few drops of blood seep into space. He had long since memorized the words on the scrolls in his bag, Technoblade chanted the words written in Greek and he felt the wind begin to pick up around him. Goosebumps appeared on his arms, He was grateful his hair was wrapped up in a bun or else it would be tangled and blowing all over the place. At this time in his life, his hair was down to his ankles, getting it calm in any sense of the word was a struggle.

Dust picked up and he covered his eyes, by the time Technoblade opened them a beautiful figure stood in the void, the goddess was giant, towering far above the treelines below the cliff. A crown rested on top of the Goddess’s head, it was golden and formed a halo above her head, stars littered across her face as her eyes opened. Her gaze bore straight into Techno’s soul, her gown was a deep black with red lacing across the neckline, and it flared out at her feet. A corset tight around her waist, intricate gold was embedded into the fabric, her (h/c) hair floating around her head.

“Technoblade,” Her voice sounded like silk in his ears, and he loved the way her voice said his name. Pink blossomed in his cheeks as his eyes widened, he didn’t even comprehend that she knew his name without even asking. “Why have you summoned me here today?” The Goddess hummed softly leaning downwards her giant face in front of Technoblades, he was in awe at her majesty. He gaped like a fish for a few moments and she lightly giggles pulling away from his body, Technoblade swallowed thickly recovering from his shock.

“You’re the Blood God?” He questioned not expecting you to be so womanly, you hummed softly tapping your nails on the ground causing it to rumble under his feet.

“I go by many names young one, but yes that is one of them.” She hummed the clouds began to swirl around her head, “I’m known as the Blood God, Blood Goddess, but if we strike a deal you may refer to me as (Y/n).”

“The scrolls said you’d be a man.”

“Disappointed?”

“No, not at all.” Technoblade hurriedly corrected himself, “Just startled.”

“Men always like to change history,” She clicked her tongue in distaste brow furrowing in frustration. “Changing the great things women do, the fear of powerful women is only felt by weaker and pitiful men.” He watched the Goddess’s eyes turn blood red a smile came across her lips, “They deserve to bleed. Pitiful men don’t deserve to walk the same earth of those worthy.” Technoblade felt himself nodding alongside the Goddess’s words, she had a point. Any man who disrespects or underestimates women deserves the fate she mentioned. “Now Technoblade tell me what you need from me?”

“I wish to never die.” The words hung in the air, he watched the goddess lean back in contemplation.

“I cannot make you immortal, I’m afraid you’ve contacted the wrong God.”

Technoblade shook his head, he knew he contacted the proper God, if he tried to contact the God of Death, Phil would know immediately.

“It’s not necessarily immortality I am after,” You titled your head curiously urging the young man to continue his point. “I just want something to make me never die, whether it’s power or unaging, I need something.”

“Why? Are you aware of the consequences of becoming immoral or like an immortal,” The Goddess gently reached her hand out nudging her giant finger against his cheek, “To see those who love you die around you while you never age? Anyone, you fall in love with won’t grow old with you.”

“I don’t plan on falling in love.” He interrupted the goddess, standing up straighter. He watched her purse her lips, in a blinding flash of light a woman was standing in front of him. Technoblade felt his face heat up, in her mortal form she was much smaller, but her outfit remained the same, the crown still on her head, showing off her power.

“You cannot comprehend the ideas of the goddess of love Technoblade. She has many interesting ideas on who should fall in love.” Technoblade straightened as she leaned in closer to his face,

“I’ll fight them.”

The Goddess blinked a few times as Technoblade looked away awkwardly at what he blurted out, and you burst into hysterical laughter. You covered your hand with your mouth trying to stifle said laughter, he made a small ‘heh?’ like sound as you clutched your abdomen.

“Sorry- Sorry! I just never heard someone so willingly eager to fight the God of Love so they don’t fall in love.” Your eyes lit up with delight as Technoblade visibly relaxed, for the self-proclaimed Blood God you sure were child-like, much like Wilbur, “You’re so cute yet so naive.” He tensed again his teeth grinding together,

“I’m not naive.” He huffed narrowing his eyes not even processing that she had called him cute. You hummed a few more giggles spilling past your lips, before collecting yourself and straightening your dress.

“Technoblade, before we continue forward with our potential deal there are some stipulations.” You hummed softly holding out your hand, “If you wish for my power to never die this is what I can grant you.” You pressed your glowing red finger to his forehead, his pupils shrunk in and he saw himself in the future. Scars littered his face, arms, and back, his hair was tied into a tight braid, gold jewelry coated his ears and fingers. He had a scruff of a beard on his chin, and he overall radiated power. By his side in some form of a Tundra, was Phil, looking a little older, his right-wing shredded beyond repair. On Technoblade’s back were three Wither Skull tattoo’s one in the middle of his back and the other two on his opposite shoulder blades. A netherite sword hung on his hip and it seemed to be coated in dried blood, his arms were crossed in distaste, he caught a glimpse of three lines on his arm.

He never lost a single life. Suddenly he heard thousands of voices echoing in his head, he clutched his ears falling to his knees, all of them were screaming, pleading for blood.

Technoblade breathed heavily snapping back to the current reality, “what was that?” He panted eyes a bit frantic, “the future?”

“One version of it,” You hummed pulling your hand down to your side. “The future can change on such a whim there never may be a true future I can show you, but it was one.” His brow furrowed watching you reach out and trace over the lifelines on his wrist, a pleasant tingle was sent up his spine. “I can assure you the power I can give will not make you immortal, but it will give you the power to slaughter all your enemies on a whim. Reach your goals and make it nearly impossible to die, that is the power I can grant you.” He watched his lives glow a soft gold and he choked on his spit, another tingle shot up his body, “but there are consequences as there is with every deal one makes.”

Technoblade nodded in understanding willing to risk anything to be that powerful, keeping his life and living with Phil. So the older man won’t have to lose anyone else in his life due to his immortality.

“While you’ll be powerful and practically impossible to kill you will still be mortal. You will be able to die and will still be bound to the three life systems my brother has set up. However, you will live forever so long as that does not happen.” He felt your hand move up his arm and he involuntary flexed his muscles. “But, you’ll have to bear the curse of the Blood God,” You whispered eyes flashing in regret, “The voices.”

“Voices?” He questioned with an eyebrow raise watching you nod almost sadly.

“They will be hard to ignore and occur almost instantly once the deal is in place. There will be thousands of them, always talking or screaming begging you to kill and slaughter. Begging you to kill and supply me with the blood I so desperately crave be spilled on the land. They will say other things too, commenting on your thoughts and your life, you’ll eventually learn to live with them. Especially with my help, but they’re hard to deal with, hard to ignore their yearn for the slaughter of anything with a pulse. You’ll have to learn to get along with them, that is your only hope to not lose yourself to them.” He felt your hand up to his cheek, thumb brushing against the apples of them, “It will be painful and you’ll still need to train to gain more muscle and strength, but it will be easier for you to reach that goal. So with that in mind Technoblade, do we have a deal?”

Technoblade locked eyes with the Goddess in front of him, he could deal with a few voices screaming in his ear, after all, you’d be by his side, helping him learn and grow.

“Deal,” Technoblade spoke gruffly, “how do we go about this?” He tensed swallowing thickly watching you cup his cheeks in your hands. “You’re touching my face, that’s fine this is fine, not intimate at all.” He watched you raise an eyebrow,

“It’s about to get a lot more intimate I’m afraid,” You purred as Technoblade flushed red, he felt your one hand remove itself from his cheek. She trailed her hand down his neck and his body, he was a shivering, red mess, she found the dagger at his side. He watched in awe as it floated in front of her, slicing open her palm, blood bubbled from the wound it was laced with golden flecks of ambrosia. Technoblade looked at her nervously, “Drink.”

“Eh?” He made a disgusted face eyeing the blood smearing on your palm, he watched it drip intimately down your wrist. Technoblade swallowed thickly, “why?”

“You have to take a piece of me to grant my power, you’ll grow fond of the taste of blood eventually.” You smiled pityingly, another hand gently squeezing his neck and Technoblade let out a shaky breath. He placed a hand on your wrist looking up into your eyes, you hummed sweetly urging him to continue, “I don’t bite. Hard.” You mused, eyes sparkling, dangerously, the look was verging on flirty, the young man flushed. He leaned forward, hesitantly licking the dripping blood that spilled down your arm up to the cut you made with his dagger. The ambrosia in your blood tingled his tongue tasting sweeter than honey, his pupils blew wide dragging his tongue across your palm. He barely registered your hand in his hair, curling around the loose stands tenderly, and much like a kitten, he began to lap at your palm. Technoblade felt like his entire body was on fire, but the blood you possessed tasted so sweet, he felt as though he’s never tasted anything better. He drank until your body healed and he couldn’t taste any more blood, he felt a whine bubble in his throat desperately trying to get more blood from your healed cut. You shushed him softly poking his nose, which seemingly snapped him back to reality, ears turning red as a small amount of blood stained the corner of his mouth. You leaned forward standing on your tiptoes, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the corner of his mouth, tongue lapping at the left-over blood. He let out another whine as you pulled away licking your teeth, humming fondly at the taste. “Such a good boy, listening to your god,” he felt himself pant his vision blurring the praise from you swimming in his head, doing things to him he didn’t quite understand.

Technoblade’s eyes snapped open as the world around him filled with screaming voices, he yelled out in agony as a fire shot through his skull, burning his brain and licking at the top of his spine. Voice pleading and screaming for more blood, to paint the entirety of the cliffside with sweet blood, to grab the nearest thing with a pulse and tear it to pieces. His pupils shrank and his mouth began to water helplessly,

‘Blood for the Blood God! Serve her! We live to serve her, get her blood. Feed us, Feed her. Blood. Blood. Blood. Kill anything that tries to stop us. Blood. Blood. Blood.’

These millions of voices pounded heavily in his ears, he felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Suddenly the voices quieted and he was vaguely aware of your hand on his forehead,

‘Goddess, our goddess.’

“Shhhh,” You whispered fondly and Technoblade leaned into your cool touch. “Be kind to this one, he’s special.” He didn’t understand what you meant but heard the voices calm down as you spoke to them. “Play nice,” Techno realized that you weren’t talking to him but the voices in his head.

‘Yes ma’am. We’ll be good. But I want to break this one. Don’t be rude to our goddess! Bark, bark, bark. Don’t bark at her! She’s gorgeous though! Truly a work of art. We just want to provide you with blood! Let us play with him a little!’

“I know my darlings and I appreciate it.” You cooed fondly and Technoblade felt warmth flow through his entire being. “But try to get along with this one, he’s special,” Technoblade watched the goddess wink at him. He found himself asking her if he would see her again and she snickered softly,

“Of course you will. We’re interconnected now,” you took his hand, allowing his bigger one to encompass your own. “I’ll see you again soon, try not to die.” In another flash of light, the goddess was gone, he was left alone with the roaring voices and deep-seated loneliness that he was not accustomed to feeling.

It only took a few weeks for Phil to find out about his meeting with the Blood God herself he was immediately worried for his friend. Scolding him for doing something so stupid and reckless, even if what he was preaching was largely hypocritical. The newly acquired voices seemed to have a different interpretation of his nagging, instead, they urged Technoblade to call the man Dadza. Behind Phil his crows cawed and flocked around the both of them, Phil’s brow furrowed and squeezed Technoblade’s shoulder.

“I hope you know what you’re doing mate. Dealing with gods is a dangerous game,” Phil sighed “I know that better than anybody. You need anything, contact me immediately.”

“I will,” The young man nodded in response to his old friend, “Trust me.”

“You know I do.” Phil responded his wings fluttering anxiously, “Just know how dangerous the Blood God can be, the voices granted to you will be hard to resist.”

“She gave me the spiel Phil, I can handle a few voices.” Technoblade scoffed crossing his arms over his chest, “Have a little faith.” Phil only grew more concerned watching Techno’s hand twitch, he could only hope he knew what he got himself into.

~~~

“Oh, Technoblade what have you done?” Your voice echoed in his head as he snarled loudly, red eyes blazing fire. Corpses littered his feet, blood staining the floor and walls, he was older than the last time she had visited. Hair was tied in a braid, scars littered his face and arms that seemed to only accentuate the blood staining his face. His ax was in the corner of the room blood stained the weapon as well, “You poor man.” He turned towards you and snarled the voices in his head roared needily, his head and heart were pounding, “Use your words.” You commanded hardly red mist swirling around your fingers, it hit him square in the chest sending him flying backward into a wall. Behind you stood a taller figure, in his state Technoblade could only make out a mask with a large ‘X’ carved into it.

“Your little plaything seems to be struggling with your curse dear sister,” XD mused from behind you, “Your supposed prodigy seems to have lost control.” You clicked your tongue in distaste sending your brother a look.

“Technoblade come back to your God.” You commanded your voice harshly seeping into his ears, he only roared in response, steam coming out of his nostrils. “I’m disappointed in you all,” the voices all at once stopped their screaming and Technoblade fell to his knees the sudden shift to silence throwing him off. You walked over to his crumpled body, bare feet stepping on the wooden planks marking the floorboards with your bloodied footprints. You knelt in front of him, the hybrid breathing heavily, his tusks tried to cut your skin and succeeded in pricking your fingers. You grabbed onto his tusks, those were also bigger than the last time you saw them, you tugged them harshly. He grunted in pain, “No.” You snarled looking deep into his eyes, “You slaughtered an entire village of innocent lives! That is not in my plan or my wishes you stupid mortal!” You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, his clarity was slowly coming back to him. “There were children here! Children you tore apart, I trusted you to have some semblance of control, and you!” She pressed a manicured nail to the top of his head speaking directly to the voices, “I asked for one thing from you and you make him do this!”

“Get ‘em, girl. You tell them.” XD mused from behind you, snapping his fingers almost sassily. His robes flowing around his arms, you turned over your shoulder to glare at him.

“Oh, go fuck George Lore.”

“Fuck you.” Lighting cackled from behind the God of the SMP his long nails digging into the flesh on his arms. You huffed glaring at your older brother, from behind you Technoblade tried to lunge at God for disrespecting his Goddess. “Watch your dog,” He scoffed another growl bubbling in Technoblade’s throat.

“Techno.” Your voice filled his ears again and he fell against your shoulder, “I haven’t been a good Goddess to you have I?” You spoke softly, his entire body relaxing into you as he listened to you. “You cannot handle the voices on your own that was my mistake, I will train you so this doesn’t happen again that I can promise you.” Your fingers gently played with the hair on the back of his neck,

“(Y/n)?” He mumbled groggily,

“There he is, welcome back to the real world.” The goddess pulled away from his beaten body, he looked around seeing the blood and the bodies. His ears twitched something akin to guilt curled in his stomach.

Had he done this? To a village of innocent traders?

“Did I..?”

“You lost control I’m afraid.”

“I- that’s impossible, I was doing so well I had control-”

“Technoblade!” A voice called out pushing past XD, an older gentleman with messy blonde hair a bucket hat. “You’re alright!- Who the hell are all of you?” The man seemed to realize they weren’t alone and his eyes locked onto yours. “(Y/n)?”

“Philza Minecraft. Long time no see,” You hummed a smile spreading across your lips, “Kristin says hello.”

Phil’s entire face flushed to the tips of his ears and he coughed nervously, “Er...tell her the same and that I miss her.”

“I will,” You gave a little bow of your head, “Is Technoblade your son?”

“More like an old friend, but I see him as such.”

“Shut up old man,” Technoblade grumbled sitting up on his knees without you to support him.

“I didn’t realize you were the Blood God,” Phil continued dropping by Technoblade’s side the old man was missing a few of his flight feathers. A large cut was gouged into his shoulder, that was it that was the trigger, something must’ve hurt Phil and caused the halfling to snap.

“That seems to be a common theme,” You frowned a little with a gentle sigh, you tried to glance at your brother, but XD had long since disappeared from the doorway. Most likely because he was bored and wanting to go bother Foolish, “Philza.” You declared as Technoblade glanced over at you through hooded eyes, “Will you allow me to train and help your son."

“He’s not my dad-”

“Of course Goddess, whatever will help him stay in control.” You nodded your head at the consent, in a flash of light your entire appearance changed. You looked much more human, with a simple yet sophisticated outfit that fit the period

“Then let’s begin.”

~~~

The sun began to rise above the cliff where Technoblade had first summoned his Goddess. He took in a deep breath inward and then let the breath outwards after a few minutes of holding it. He sat criss-cross on the cliffside letting air into his lungs as he remembered the meditation techniques you had taught him many years ago. The voices were particularly antsy today but he had learned from the best how to control them, to quiet them down, talk, and reason with them.

‘The sun is rising. It’s very pretty, can we please just spill a little bit of blood?’

“No.” He murmured under his breath, “We get to see (Y/n) today. Don’t ruin this for me. We need her help.”

“They bothering you?” Your voice flowed through his head like butter, and warmth engulfed his entire being,

‘We are not! Come on, we love you! E!!!! Don’t be mean to us!’

“They said you’re being mean.”

“Am not,” You snorted wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and fell across his broad shoulders. Surprisingly the goddess’s touch comforted him, while others’ touches felt like fire, yours was pleasant. “Just want to make sure my prodigy is safe and in control,”

“I am thanks to your lessons.”

“Good, now. You said you wanted to talk to me about something important. Do tell, I’m very curious. It’s not like you to keep secrets from me.” A feather-light kiss was placed on his cheek as you moved from behind him to the front, he adored you. The sunlit up your cheeks and framed your head like a halo, it was like everything on earth was made to make you look perfect.

“I have a predicament,” He tapped his nails on his knees as you hummed thoughtfully, “There’s a war brewing between the government of ‘New L’manburg’ and myself. The government killed Wilbur, drove him so mad that Phil had to kill him to stop his nonsense.”

“I remember that,” You said with a stern nod, “there was a lot of blood spilled that day.” The people who fought in the war lost a lot of lives and you remembered it vividly, XD watched the battle with you from above, you wanted to keep an eye on Technoblade. When the battle was over and his allies betrayed him it took all of your willpower to not go down there and kill them all where they stood.

No one touches your prodigy.

XD had to physically hold your powers away from you, it was the closest you’ve come to losing control of since you were a young Goddess.

When Technoblade escaped to the Tundra that’s when you appeared in front of him, giving him a bone-crushing hug. He grunted at the unfamiliar body but there was only one person that he knew of who could appear out of nowhere and that was his Goddess. You remembered him apologizing to you, fearing you’d be mad at him for failing to kill all those who opposed you and him. You shut him up with a searing kiss, he was dizzy as you pulled away,

“Don’t scare me like that again.”

“I won’t,” he murmured still recovering from the shock of the kiss, recovering from how much he enjoyed feeling your lips press against his own. “I won’t disappoint you again,”

“You better not.” You cupped his cold cheek with your hand, he nuzzled into it, “You have so much more to give.” Technoblade gave a stern nod as the voices urge him to kiss your forehead, and he listened. “My strong prodigy,” you recalled how he shivered at your words “Are you mine?”

“Only if you’re mine in return.”

“I can live with that.”

His big hand cupped your cheek and you snapped your attention back to the mortal in front of you, you smiled and kissed one of the scars on his palm. Techno brushed his thumb across your cheek, the stars on your face left his fingers tingling. “I need your help, they tried to execute me and hurt Phil they need to be taught a permanent lesson. Please fight by my side,”

“Love, you know I’m not allowed to interfere with wars of mortals. My brother will demote me.”

“I know that,” Technoblade assured reaching out to squeeze your hand, “that’s not what I mean or what I want for you Goddess.” You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head,

“Explain,” consider your curiosity peaked.

“Grant me more of your power, fight through me, my dear.” Your eyes widened as his eyes flashed red,

“That’ll tear you apart, you will not be able to handle that.”

“I will.”

“Techno-”

“I trust you.”

Your lips dipped into a tight frown, “I don’t trust myself.” You admitted closing your eyes, “I’m called the Blood God for a reason Technoblade.”

“You’ve taught me how to keep control, I know you can as well darling. Please.”

“Fine,” You agreed after a while looking at the ground, “I’ll let my power flow through you on one condition. You only use it once when it’s life or death.”

“I promise you,” he leaned forward and kissed your lips causing you to purr happily. “I’ll only use it once just keep an ear out for when I call for you.”

“I will.”

The battle came much faster than Technoblade would’ve liked, he had Dream, Phil, and the dogs by his side. They would blow the government to smithereens and won’t stop until they hit bedrock. Above the clouds, he knew his Goddess was watching over them, there was no way they wouldn’t succeed. He felt the voices yearn for blood, yearn to serve and please their god, to wreck the entire governmental system. Dream told Technoblade and Phil their duties, which consisted of distracting the government with as many Withers as possible, so Dream could set up the canons. Technoblade could feel the buzzing in his skull knowing the voices were itching to set off the Withers and conquer. They gathered the wolves from underneath L’manburg and Technoblade ruffled their fur and gave them each some last-minute treats, he hated to think of that as a last meal for some of them, but that’s essentially what they were. As he made his way into the country Phil had squeezed his shoulder, a gesture meant to be affectionate in nature.

“Try not to die.”

“You too old man. You still have the totem I gave you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Good. Now let’s kick their asses,” Technoblade grinned viciously. He looked up into the swirling clouds in the sky, crows screaming overhead, “Watch over me, my goddess.” His head filled with warmth and he knew you were by his side like you promised you would be, Phil smiled over at Technoblade and looked to the sky as well.

‘Watch over him (y/n), Kristin,’ He thought getting into a position to release his Withers onto the world.

Technoblade followed suit, the citizens caught onto his presence almost immediately, ready to battle him with weapons drawn. Luckily the dogs took care of anyone who dared try to get a hit in, ripping apart any exposed flesh and spilling their blood on the ground. The dogs allowed him to set up two Withers and send them into the battle, exploding and targeting individuals in their line of sight. Technoblade escaped into a small area by a river and was suddenly attacked by Sapnap. The fire demon spawn’s eyes were alight with bloodlust, seemingly from slaughtering half of his pet wolves singlehandedly.

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?” Sapnap grinned swinging the sword in his hand, fire sparking from the horns on his head. Technoblade had no time for the cocky man’s small talk as he charged at him, he blocked the blow with ease, golden ring glinting in the fleeting light. “Not much of a talker huh? No matter,” Sapnap snickered, “I’ll be the one to take your first life.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Technoblade snorted pulling away to kick Sapnap in the chest, he stumbled back but he was known for his quick recovery time. He grunted a little and sent a trail of fire-spitting towards Technoblade’s feet. Technoblade was distracted by the fire and it allowed the demon to slice a deep cut into Technoblade’s chest, the man didn’t have time to block. He grits his teeth and felt blood seep across his chest, pain ricocheting through his body. The voices roared to kill the idiot, to get up and give him a severe wound back, but before he could he was kicked in the chest by Sapnap and fell to his back. The sword was pointed at his neck and it dug in just deep enough for a droplet of blood to bubble under the sword.

He was fucked.

‘Call her. Call (Y/n). Call the Blood God. Call our Blood God. Blood for the Blood God.’

“Any last words?”

“(Y/n) I need you.”

“Who the fuck-” A blaring light blinded Sapnap as he stumbled back, squinting his eyes he could barely make out Technoblade in front of him. Technoblade’s eyes blazed a scarlet red, the wound on his chest healing over rapidly like he just ate two god apples. That wasn’t the worst of it though, Sapnap stumbled back some more, above Technoblade’s head was a stunningly gorgeous woman. Her hands were cupping his head, red seeping from her fingers and licking at Techno’s head like flames. The Goddess’s eyes were closed as her hair floated around her head, framing her face beautiful, she was terrifying calm,

“What the fuck. Who the fuck?” His voice cracked watching the being open her sharp eyes, a bloodthirsty grin appeared on her lips. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Technoblade. Kill the idiot man, who dared to try and kill you. That is my command. Give Blood to your Blood God.”

Technoblade’s lips curled over his tusks, he was salivating, the voices were roaring. “Blood for the Blood God,”

He spoke and the last thing Sapnap saw was the shine off Technoblade’s blade, and the glowing eyes of the Goddess herself before the world around him went dark.

Technoblade was breathing heavily, the voices wanted more blood, he felt the pull from you as well, you wanted more blood spilled. Steam curled around his nose and he shook his head, ‘no. no more. Thank you.’ He licked the blood off his sword and the voices quieted, satisfied with the taste on his tongue.

“Stay safe,” Your voice echoed around the battlefield, some chose to ignore the booming voice of the female but others turned to look. Staring in awe at the sight of the goddess, many not knowing her origin or what she was but felt her power over the battlefield. “Don’t disappoint me,”

“You know I won’t.” He grinned blood staining his teeth, behind him an explosion rang out, Dream was ready with the TNT cannons. He heard a familiar cry from who he assumed Tommy and when he turned back to face you, you were gone.

They will forever know that Technoblade serves and is dating the Blood God.

~~~

Tag list: @iamsuchasimp, @victory-is-here, @pastelmoonwitche, @ignat1usaquar1us, @boiled-onionrings, @alovestruck-fool, @mack4676

[galateagalvanized]

How about Codywan 'hiding face in neck' for the writing prompts? x

Cody hears the news at the exact same time as the rest of the galaxy: famed High General Obi-Wan Kenobi, recently reported dead, has miraculously returned to life.

The Coruscanti Times breaks the story, but the words are prescriptive. They read like a missive from the Chancellor’s office, flowery and full of stiff praise, and Cody doesn’t doubt a lucky Times author is getting a promotion just for copy/pasting a state-sponsored email. He wonders if they’d waited to get an image of Obi-Wan stepping off a starship before hitting send, or if the picture had been included.

Still, still. His thumb lingers on the pad over Obi-Wan’s face, where his contemplative frown is unencumbered by his usual beard. Even without the beard, it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. Obi-Wan Kenobi may hate politics, but he’s very good at them, and his expression gives nothing away. Is he angry? Upset? Is he satisfied with a job well-done, grateful for the chance to do his duty to the Republic?

He looks tired, Cody concludes. Obi-Wan’s hands are tucked into the robes of his sleeves, but Cody thinks he’d see white knuckles if they weren’t.

There’s a clatter and a shout in the halls outside of his quarters, and Cody lets out the breath he’d been holding for three long weeks. Obi-Wan Kenobi is alive, he thinks, tasting the words in his mind as he rereads the headline and heads to the door. Emotions flood into his brain like blood into a constricted limb, tingling with painful new sensations. 

Obi-Wan’s alive.

When Obi-Wan’s transport lands in the hangar of the Vigilance, there’s barely room for the ship to touch down. Every trooper in the 212th had desperately wanted to be there, and Cody had set up a ship-wide broadcast for anyone who couldn’t fit. In any other situation, he’d have done the proper commander thing and given his spot to some deserving shiny, but.

Well. Any other time.

If Obi-Wan’s surprised to see almost a full complement of clone troopers vibrating with enough energy to power a Venator-class starship, he doesn’t show it. He smiles and waves, and stars, stars, it’s good to see him. It’s one thing to read about it, to see a picture—but it’s another to stand in front a dead man, to breathe the same air as him, and to know everything’s going to be okay. 

Obi-Wan steps down the ramp towards Cody, and there’s a question in his eyes that doesn’t match the certainty of his stride. His hands are shaking.

“Cody,” Obi-Wan starts, but he stops, uncertain, and Cody has no idea what Obi-Wan could be uncertain about. He’s home; he’s alive; that’s all there is.

Cody lifts his helmet off with a depressurizing hiss. 

“Welcome home, sir,” he says, and, behind him, there’s a vast tidal wave of white and orange as all of his troopers remove their buckets, too.

And Obi-Wan’s still hovering, just barely within arm’s reach, when someone—Cody still doesn’t know who—sings the first line of Vode An. The chorus grows, sweeping through the gathered ranks, a deep baritone thrum of kote, darasuum kote echoing throughout the vast room, filling the room with pride and joy and we shall bear this weight together.

“Cody,” Obi-Wan says again, tinged with desperation, and his legs are shaking like a newborn foal’s. It’s probably some aftereffect of the transformation or his fight with Dooku, but Cody can’t ignore it like he usually does. Valor and discretion have deserted him, replaced wholesale with relief.

So he moves forward as Obi-Wan falls inward, and his arms move automatically to lock around Obi-Wan’s waist. Obi-Wan is soft and warm in his arms, still shaking like a leaf, and if it’s one thing to read about a dead man and another to see him, it’s a whole new universe to hold him. After a second’s hesitation, Obi-Wan’s own arms come up to squeeze just as tight, and Cody hooks his chin over Obi-Wan’s shoulder and closes his eyes. 

He smells like bacta and the stale air of space travel, and he feels like hope. 

The 212th surges forward, reaching out to touch whatever piece of Obi-Wan they can reach, building long chains of hands on armor from their general to the hangar walls, and their voices never waver. In Cody’s arms, Obi-Wan chokes and presses his face into the curve of Cody’s neck, just above where his chestplate ends, and Cody can feel a wetness start to seep into his blacks.

He nestles his fingers into the ginger waves of Obi-Wan’s hair, cupping the back of Obi-Wan’s head with his palm, and he adds his own voice to the chorus welcoming their general home.

Send me a ship & a prompt from here, if you’d like!

[lilacerull0]

Perhaps this is a silly thing to fixate on (but we'll, I'm Me, so... 😂) but I can't believe that, even though beards on men have been back in fashion for several years now, we STILL haven't ever had a Little Women adaptation that gives Professor Bhaer a proper big, bushy beard! They always have to make him a more Conventionally Attractive™ Romantic Hero, even though his NOT being that was... kind of the point? Plus, they always make him too serious, but ANYWAY... In past decades, I could understand that beards were kind of Frowned Upon, but now? No excuse! We deserve a Big Cuddly Teddy Bear Fritz! It would be ADORABLE.

STELLA YOU GET ME, THAT'S EXACTLY IT!!!!!!!!!!! Fritz is Kind and Funny and Cuddly and Beautiful and he deserves to be portrayed that way. (but this small part of me is happy that his true self belongs to the bookish world and the bookish world only hihi) Seriously though, the common misunderstanding of the reasoning behind Bhaer's physical appearance relies on the opinion that his narrative purpose is to be The Worst Possible Ending For Jo and THAT is why he's not conventionally attractive (pffffft) when in reality he's 1) not "Jo's ending", he's intentionally portrayed as just another part of her adulthood and not a definite conclusion to her story or whatever 2) he IS PURPOSELY WRITTEN AS AN UNCHARACTERISTIC LOVE INTEREST, but only because that is what JO WANTS, that is Jo's life philosophy, she wants to stand out and be remembered and fight against social norms!!!!! The whole point of the Fritz arc is to keep Jo close to her ideals, but without the misfortune of keeping her static. It's: you can rebel in more than one way. Jo having an unlikely romance with a man who wouldn't be considered an ideal match for a woman of that time (of our time too actually) is a form of rebellion in itself and it's not just rebelling for the sake of rebelling because why. in. the. world. would Louisa condemn Jo to unhappiness??????

This is strictly book canon though, the 2019 movie does a wonderful job deconstructing the idea that every girl who doesn't want to marry must eventually "grow out of it" and realise how marriage is an inevitability. And I applaud it for that. 😌

[ben-barnes-is-my-husband]

Together We're Toxic

Billy Russo x Reader (you)

I wrote this for another fandom and I kept thinking how fitting it would be for Billy. So, I did some editing. *grin* Hope you like. Definitely explicit.

Billy Russo was not a man to be reckoned with. One would have thought that out of all people, you would know that. But then, you were no longer his girlfriend. You were his ex - a fact that he was not at all pleased about and planned to fix.

Tonight.

The club was hot, the music pumping. He could feel it through his body, an incessant beat. The club was dark even with the random mix of colored lights, and it smelled of sweat and perfume.

It felt like impending sex.

Some were going to get laid tonight. Some were hoping to. If all went according to plan, he definitely would be.

His eyes narrowed in on his target. On you. You were with a friend who wasn’t a fan of his all the time, and you had your hands clasped above your heads as bodies moved to the beat.

You and your friend were attracting attention from the men in the crowd, which was the point, and it pissed Billy off to know that this was probably what you did all those nights you wanted to go out with friends and “let off some steam.”

The sharks were circling closer and Billy’s jaw clenched as he took in the men whose faces he’d have to break later for staring at his woman with lust written all over their faces.

You were stunning, so it wasn’t like he could blame them. All that shiny hair that flowed down your back - he liked to wrap it around his hand when he fucked you from behind. And those eyes - they could look so wide and innocent, and then turn black as night when you made it clear you wanted him.

And your lips, those lips you painted red. You left streaks of it on his cock when you sucked it.

Your smile, fuck, your smile and your laugh, and the way you spoke so intelligently about everything. You were so fucking smart and he felt so fucking dumb next to you sometimes.

There was that little bit of Billy that worried you had partly broken up with him because of it. But he knew other things - things like how to change your oil, put in new brakes, and how to beat a man bloody for touching you.

Once, some asshole had groped your ass on the subway and he’d knocked the guy straight out. You’d blown him good and proper after that. He went nearly cross-eyed just thinking about how it felt when you took him down your throat.

Finally, you and your friend took a break from your frenetic dancing and one bold shark inched his way close to you. Billy held back from charging over and punching him dead in the face.

No one touched what was his. No one.

It was that sort of thing that you said was one of the reasons you broke up with him, and Billy had a funny feeling that your friends had something to do with that. You sure didn’t seem to mind when he got, as you put it, “growly and possessive”. And what really burned him is that you would get just as “growly and possessive” right back.

When an ex made contact with him to ask if he still had her hatchet, he’d ended up exchanging a few texts with her about how things were going. When you saw the text come through on his phone you’d simply grabbed your purse and walked out the door, claiming you were going for a ride. You didn’t return for three days and he had no idea where the fuck you went. When you returned you hugged him like no time had passed and nothing had happened. Then you whispered in his ear, “If you talk to her again I won’t come back next time.”

But then, was that worse than when he witnessed you smiling and laughing with someone you had dubbed your “work husband”, and he’d ended up locking you in the bedroom that night for two hours and not letting you leave?

Apparently, it was.

What about the time you slashed one of his tires when one of his (female) customers from Anvil asked for his number?

No one pointed fingers at you, but when he went a little mental and tossed your phone in the toilet, everyone was all up in arms.

Your twisted relationship was your business, and it wasn’t like Billy didn’t know it was twisted. You both were. You knew it, too. You were both passionate and fiercely in love with each other.

He knew you loved him. He <i>knew</i> that. It was in the little things you did - cuddling up to him on the couch, making him dinner (when you had the time), and trimming his hair and beard for him. You also held him and loved him when he needed you the most. And he always, always needed you.

And he took care of you. He changed your oil when it needed it, rubbed your feet at night and listened when you complained about work. He offered to take a few co-workers out for you, which always made you laugh even though he was only half-joking about that.

You were both better together than apart. There was only one woman for him on this godforsaken planet and that was you. And there wasn’t another him that could give you what you needed. He felt a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. Little freak that you were.

You and your friend shooed the men away and headed for the bar, giggling together. While you and your friend planted yourself on one side of the freestanding bar, Billy made his way to the other side. He made room for himself, much to the annoyance of the guy beside him.

“Hey!” the guy protested when some of his drink spilled over the side from Billy hitting it with his elbow.

Billy just looked at him in the way you claimed could make grown men “piddle on the rug.” The guy certainly appeared as if he just might. He picked up his drink and walked off quickly.

Then, Billy leaned on the bar, elbows on top and stared at you, willing you to look his way. It was your friend who saw him first. She made a face and nudged you, pointing at him.

When you looked his way, your mouth fell open and you met his gaze. When the shock wore off, he caught the hint of something in your eyes. Something he knew quite well from having spent almost two years with you: excitement.

You covered it quickly with a look of annoyance and said something to your friend that made her frown, but then your friend nodded and you started around the bar.

Feeling pretty victorious, Billy pushed away from the bar and smirked at your friend who glared at him. Good, let her be pissed. You could no more stay away from him than he could stay away from you.

He moved away from the bar and inched toward the hallway where the bathroom and the back entrance was located. He had a plan after all.

You stormed up to him, fire blazing in your eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?” he drawled. “You didn’t think I’d let this breakup stand, did you?”

“You didn’t fight me when I ended it.”

Was it his imagination or did you sound upset about that?

“You changed the locks and put all my shit out on the lawn. You also called Frank for backup. What was I supposed to do?”

“Just...go.” Now you sounded sad. Defeated. “Leave me alone, Billy. It’s over.”

He grabbed your arm. “No.”

You yanked your arm from his grip. “Don’t manhandle me.”

“Come outside with me,” he said, changing tactics. He fully intended to manhandle you and though you might protest at first, he knew what a little freak you were and what got you hot. You’d be putty in his hands in no time. But for now, you needed to act like you didn’t want him there. Maybe you even had yourself partly convinced of that. Billy knew better though.

“Why should I? What for?” you asked.

“Just to talk. I think I deserve a conversation that doesn’t involve Frank, don’t you think?”

You pursed her lips together and studied him with suspicious eyes. He didn’t move. Just waited. Finally, you sighed. “Fine. Let me tell Friends Name.”

He nodded, smiling inwardly and pointed to the hall. “I’ll be waiting for you right there.”

“Fine, Billy.”

“And don’t think about ditching me,” He warned you. “I will find you.”

Your lips parted and you turned on heel quickly and stalked off. Oh, you wanted this. He knew it.

Five minutes later, you were outside in the cool air and you shivered and wrapped your arms around yourself. It was your fault for wearing a sleeveless top - his favorite one, too. Red and low cut, it was gorgeous on you and easy to get off.

“Why don’t we sit in the car so you’re not cold,” he suggested, pointing to his black Porsche behind you.

You turned, dropping your arms, and he grabbed the handcuffs in his jacket pocket and hurriedly cuffed one wrist. You started to turn back, looking down at your wrist. “Hey--”

But he had you cuffed before you could finish that sentence.

“Billy!” you exclaimed. “What are you dozing?”

“I told you I wouldn’t let this stand. You’re mine.”

Your eyes widened and you made to run.

You didn’t get far. Billy was on you quick enough and managed to wrap both arms around you from behind. With your wrists cuffed in the front, you couldn’t move in the bear hug he was giving you.

“You’re hurting me!”

Doubtful. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way,” he muttered in your ear. “You either come with me or I use the chloroform I have in my pocket.” It was a lie; he didn’t have any.

“How the hell did you get--”

“Hard way or easy way?”

“I hate you,” you hissed.

“No, you don’t. I’ll prove it.”

“I could scream,” you snarled.

“No one would hear you over that music.”

He pushed you to his car gently, wrapping one hand around your forearm lest you get any ideas about running off.

You cursed him the whole way and Billy just smiled. He opened the backdoor of his car once they reached it. “Lay down.”

“Why do I have to lay down?”

He gestured to the rope you’d not yet seen on the floor of the car. You cursed him again and got in. “Don’t even think of kicking me either,” he told you. “Or the chloroform comes out. Heard it gives one a nasty headache. Plus, who knows what I’d do to you all tied up.”

“You’re disgusting and you’re going to pay for this,” you snapped.

He licked his lips. “I certainly hope so.”

You laid down on your side with some help and when he was sure you were comfortable - because he didn’t want you hurt after all...well, not much anyway. He tied up your ankles with the rope while you glared at him mutinously.

With a triumphant smirk, he moved your feet out of the way of the door and shut it. He then climbed in the car and started it up.

“My friends will look for me, ya know,” you said.

“They won’t find you.”

“Where are you taking me?” you demanded.

“To the cabin.”

“Fuck,” you muttered.

He grinned as he pulled out of the club parking lot. “That’s right. The cabin in the middle of the woods where you can scream all you want and no one will hear you.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah,” he drawled, “But you love me anyway.”

You fell silent and Billy smiled. Your silence said it all; you did still love him.

It was a forty-five minute drive to the cabin and after letting you sulk for a while, he finally asked, “Why did you do it?”

“Why did I do what?” you asked innocently.

“You know what,” he growled.

You sighed. “I’m handcuffed and I’ve got ropes around my ankles. Do you really have to ask? Do you think this is normal?”

“It’s our normal,” he said with a shrug.

“Maybe I don’t want it to be.”

“Or maybe you’re too busy listening to your friends tell you how our relationship should be.” He took his eyes off the road to turn and look down at you. You looked almost pitiful on the seat looking up at him and he had a moment’s regret. Just a moment though.

He looked back at the road. “You get off on our games.”

“Is that what we’re calling them? Games?”

“What would you call it?”

“Unhealthy. Twisted.”

He laughed. “Oh, You. You’ll never not be twisted. And I’m the only one who can match all that fire inside you.”

“Maybe I don’t want that anymore. Maybe I want normal. Maybe I want someone like Frank who--”

“Don’t mention his fucking name to me,” he growled. “He’d bore you in a week. We’re here.”

One of your friends had tried to introduce you to a “nice boy” who wore Dockers and white tennis shoes and actually played tennis, and You had kept it from him until he’d overheard you talking to that friend on the porch one night. When he’d confronted you about it, you’d hedged until he threatened to ask your friend himself. You’d told him, and in retaliation he’d dragged you into the house and tied you to the bed and proceeded to make you come and come and come until you begged for him to stop.

You had clung to him so sweetly, mewling in his ear. Screaming. Telling him again and again how you loved him and only him.

He cut the engine and stepped out of the car. He made his way around to the back and you sat up and he maneuvered you out and over his shoulder. The wind blew, causing your black skirt to blow over your ass and he slapped it. “That’s my ass,” he told you. “Remember that.”

The cabin was his. A place he had built with his bare hands. A place for him to seek refuge from the world when he needed it. Then when he had met you, it had become yours and his. Long weekends were spent here when you both felt the need to get away, just hiking, making love, and doing domestic things that he wasn’t very used to doing, but rather...enjoyed?

You could both be normal. You were both “normal” more than you weren’t so he didn't know what the fuck you were on about. Sure you both had your moments, but it wasn’t always like that.

The cabin had three rooms - the living room and kitchen rolled into each other, and then there was the bedroom off the kitchen, and a bathroom attached to the bedroom.

Billy stepped inside to the kitchen and carted you over against the far wall and placed you down on the lumpy couch with the maroon sofa covering. You fell to the side and then righted yourself and glared up at him.

“You gonna run if I let you loose?” he asked.

God, he hoped you did. He wanted to chase you down, throw you on the ground and fuck you in the open air. His dick was hard just thinking about it. You glanced down quickly at his crotch and then back up at him. You looked angry, but he caught the twinkle there. “What do you think?” you asked.

Okay, so, you needed to warm up a bit first. Work up to it. He was game.

“I think we still got wine in the fridge from last time we were here,” he said. “You want some?”

“You gonna roofie me?”

“No, of course not.”

“I mean, you did threaten to chloroform me--”

“And you know as well as I do that I wouldn’t. Even if i did have it, which I don’t.” He did though. Somewhere. Just not on him.

You lifted your chin. “What’s your plan then? Keep me cuffed and bound all weekend?”

“Well, that all depends on you.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Oh?”

“Yeah, all depends on how long it takes you to get your head out of your ass and realize you belong with me.”

“I don’t--”

He bent down and placed his hand at the back of your neck and drew your face to his. He kissed you deeply, wanting you to just shut up.

You didn’t kiss him back at first, but then he felt you melt by degrees. You moaned and Billy went down to his knees, filling his hands with your face as he kissed you. “Stop fighting me,” he muttered against your mouth. “You love me.”

“Billy--”

“Say it, You. Say you love me.”

Your eyes welled up in tears. “I do,” you croaked. “I love you.”

“Say you’re mine.”

You sniffled. “I’m yours.”

He kissed you again and you swayed into him, pressing your chest against him. “Billy,” you muttered. “Let me go. I can’t touch you like this.”

He fumbled, panting, for the key to the handcuffs. He managed to fish it out of his jeans and with shaking hands undid the cuffs. Then he fumbled with the rope, and with your help you were free. He pulled you to her feet with him and kissed you. “I need you,” he gasped. “I need inside you.”

You stepped back a few feet, smiling, and whipped off your top. You threw it at him and it hit him right in the face.

You used that distraction to rush right past him and out the door.

He roared, his dick pressing hard against his jeans. Game. On.

You didn’t get far. Just by the car. You were on the other side of it when he approached and when he went to the right, you went to the left. You both stopped. Stared at each other.

“You’re a little brat,” he told her. “I should take you over my knee.”

“Don’t you wish you could?” you taunted him and jetted to the right. He ran around the car, and you squealed and ran off to the woods. He was smiling, beaming really. This was just what he’d expected and you’d almost had him; he’d almost thought you were just going to capitulate without any game this time, but he should have known better. You were always up for a good game.

You were like a sprite running through the woods and Billy kept his gaze steady on you, while mindful of where he was stepping so as not to trip. He finally managed to graze your arm by a thick oak tree and you squealed again and darted around it.

He could hear your breathing from the other side and he forced himself to go still and quiet. Then you did as well. He waited.

The wind blew, a cool breeze that rustled the leaves and branches. Animals deep in the forest made noise, reminding you they were there. The moon was nearly full and cast light down through the trees. The clouds in the sky were moving quickly by and stars twinkled above them.

He was harder than he’d ever been and he swore he could smell your heat from where he stood on the other side of the blasted tree.

You popped her head out and said, “Boo!” and then made to run off. This time, you wouldn’t get far. He was on you quickly enough and you let out a playful scream as he managed to catch you and push you against another tree. You winced and he pulled you away from it.

“You hurt?” he asked, panting.

“I don’t think so,” you said breathlessly.

He spun you around to check. Just a little red where the bark touched your bare skin. He bent his head and pressed a kiss to one red mark, then another and another and you melted yet again into him.

He went down to his knees and forced you down with him. He pushed you and you planted your hands on the ground.

“You gonna to act like a bitch, I’m gonna to fuck you like one,” he grunted.

“Oh, God, yes,” you breathed.

He pushed your skirt up over your backside and tore your panties from your body.

“Billy,” you moaned.

He wrestled with the snap of his jeans and the zipper and then he shoved them and his boxers down and spit in his hand. He stroked himself and then used two fingers to check just how wet you were.

You were soaked. Just as he thought you would be. He fucked you with his fingers until you screamed and then he pulled his fingers out and slammed his cock inside you.

“Fuck! Yes!” you screamed.

He licked your wetness from his fingers and then slapped your ass hard. You cried out and he gripped your hips, knowing he’d leave fingerprints, knowing you’d love to see them in the morning.

“Come for me again, you little bitch,” he rumbled. “I want you dripping all over me.”

He reached out and wrapped his hand around your hair and yanked your head back. “Fuck me back,” he ordered.

You did, grunting and moaning.

“Fuck me harder, asshole!” you shouted.

He did, bottoming out inside you, bumping right against your cervix.

You screamed and your walls pulsed around him, milking him. He let go with a roar, unable to hold on. You’d had him aching for you the minute he’d stepped into that fucking club and saw you.

Billy slumped over her and pressed a weak kiss in between your shoulder blades. “I love you,” he gasped. “Fucking hell, I love you so much.”

“I love you,” you said, breathless.

Billy pulled out of you with a groan and did himself back up. He got to his feet while you staggered to yours. He drew you into his arms and kissed you hard.

You kissed him back just as hard and hand-in-hand you walked back to the cabin. You showered together, laughing softly, and caressing each other gently. Billy took you to bed after and he made love to you slowly, sweetly, until you cried out softly. He held you wrapped close in his arms as you began to doze off.

“Mine again?” he asked softly.

“I always have been,” you murmured. “And I always will be.”

Satisfied, Billy drifted off into a sound sleep.

And when he woke up in the morning, he found you gone…

And himself handcuffed to the bed.

***I know it would not fit for Billy to not wake up to getting handcuffed, but just go with it. It's needed for the second part.

[donutloverxo]

Pink lady

Note - For the lovely @lielullabyes 500 followers challenge! Congrats babe🥰🥰

And for @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18s challenge and birthday! I'm sorry I'm a bit late! Hope y'all like it❤❤

Summary - You try to convince your professor to give you a better grade.

Warnings - smut, age gap, professor/student relationship, deep throating, cock warming.

Prompts - professor!character x student!reader for snow

Gif prompt + your professor has a different kind of extra credit in mind for navy and siri

Pairing - Andy Barber x reader

Word count - almost 4k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You closed your eyes rubbing them to sooth the dryness. You had a long day and getting anything through your thick skull was turning out to be a challenge.

Of course it would. You were never an amazing student. You just studied the night before the exam and cramped whatever you could, writing what you remember on the test the next day. And yeah it wasn’t the most ideal way to study but it had worked so far for you. You got by alright.

It was more of all the shitty professors you’ve ever had than your fault. None of them could ever get you really interested in their subjects. They either didn’t care enough or only knew how to abuse their power.

But then he walked into your class. He was pretty enough to be a model or an actor. You just assumed he was someone famous. You felt as if you’ve met him before, as if you’ve known him your whole life. You were shocked to hear he was your new criminology professor, along with being a DA. Which has to be a demanding job.

It was impossible to not listen to him when he spoke, his voice so smooth like honey, carrying hints of a Boston accent he let slip whenever he got too passionate, which was quiet often.

He had broad shoulders and thick biceps he hit under those expensive suits and dress shirts. But it was more than that. He acted as if he cared. About his students, about the things he was teaching you. He always encouraged questions and helped everyone with their doubts. He had you on the edge of your seat with every word he said.

He even knew all the students by their names. Well... everyone except you.

You never interacted much in your classes, too afraid to make a fool of yourself in front of your dream man. So you had decided to buckle down and study as much as you can so you can finally raise your hand when he asked a question. How amazing it would be to hear him say ‘Good job' to you.

Maybe it isn’t classy to harbor such sinful thoughts about your professor. But the way his pants stretched over his round butt, hugging his long legs and creasing as he leaned against the edge of his table, his thick dark beard framing his face so perfectly, was just so mesmerizing. He was sex on legs. Were you really to blame here?

You had made sure to get to class ten minutes early so you could sit on the first bench. To get a close up look at the show. He was talking about something, you couldn’t really focus on. Your eyes stuck to his crotch, and how you could clearly see the imprint of his...

“Shit” You whispered as you heard him call out your surname, suddenly realising that he had his eyes on you.

“What do you think?” He asked.

“Wh – I – don’t really think a lot.” You stammered “I’m sorry what was the question?” You cringed at yourself.

“Try to pay attention next time.” He scolded you as you cowered under his intense gaze, his lips set in a hard line as he went back to addressing the whole class and resuming his lecture.

He didn’t even spare a look at you the rest of the class. You had to keep your tears at bay. It would’ve been better if you were invisible to him. Anything would be better than being publicly humiliated like that.

You decided then and there that you don’t like him. Sure you weren’t paying attention but how dare he point that out? He would never do that to anyone else. What the fuck did he have against you.

Nope. You were going to hate him now and bear him till the end of the semester. But then, all your resolve went out the window as soon as he turned around to write something on the board, giving everyone a nice view of his 'cute bubble butt'. At least that’s what you heard someone else call it. Although the kind of feelings it gave you were anything but cute.

After two long torturous hours the class was dismissed. You scrambled to pack up your bag. You were about to leave your, but body stopped of its own accord when you heard him call out your surname again. Sending shivers down your spine. You took a deep breathe turning around to look at him, your mouth suddenly dry and your hands clammy and sweaty.

“Yes professor Barber?” You asked as you stood a few feet away from him, staring at his shoes as if they were the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. You could not look at his face. You would melt on spot and make an idiot of yourself, again.

You cursed as he walked towards you standing just in front. You had never been so close to him before, you could smell his musky cologne, feel his hot breath on your forehead.

“Don’t you think it’s rude to not look at your professor when speaking to him?” He asked cocking his head.

He couldn’t but feel proud and satisfied as you complied so easily, looking up at him. The tip of your tongue peaked out to lick your lip before your lower lip was caught in your teeth as you chewed harshly on it. A very distracting habit of yours. He really had to resist the urge to groan.

He wondered if you knew you were so cruelly teasing him or if you were as oblivious as you seemed to be.

He was excited when he was offered a position to be a teacher, a chance to shape young minds. To make a larger difference in the world. He stayed up all night preparing for his first lecture. He was always thorough with his work. He had made up his mind to do his best and be a good teacher.

But he knew he was ruined as soon as his eyes landed on you.

He wasn’t one for making friends. Always having trouble trusting people. Especially in his profession. It wasn’t that he was shy. He hated small talk and just didn’t have a lot to say, unless he was in a courtroom, even if he did he wasn’t always sure how he should say it.

But when he and his colleagues had a win on a particularly hard case, bringing down a huge mob after working tirelessly for over 3 months, he agreed to go out for drinks to celebrate. He did need to wind down a bit. When he wasn’t at the office he was at home either working or sleeping.

He was sitting on the bar stool with Henry the paralegal he had come to like the guy. He had been a huge help with the case. Henry was going on about his daughters biology project when Andy felt a tap on his shoulder he looked over his shoulder before turning around to get a proper you.

There you stood, leaning against the bar with a dopey grin on your face. He couldn’t help but do you a once over, looking you up and down, you were wearing a hot pink dress that hugged your waist before flaring over your hips. He smiled at your cute kitten heels with small white bows on them. You looked so beautiful, your hair tied up in a high ponytail as curls framed your sweet face.

“Hello mister businessman mister!” You giggled before covering your mouth as you let out a hiccup. “Oops excuse me.”

“I’m not a businessman.” He smiled shaking his head.

“Well you sure do look like one!” you laughed weakly punching his bicep “Oh my gosh” You gulped pressing his bicep in your palm “You must work out.”

“I dabble here and there.” He said waving it off as if it wasn’t a big deal “Can I buy you a drink? Are you old enough to be here?” He wondered.

“I’ll have you know I’m more than old enough” You said proudly. Normally, he would never even consider flirting with someone who looked so young, but for some reason he just couldn’t stop. “Yes I will have a drink. Wait no! No I won’t!” You gasped.

“That’s probably a good idea. You seemed to have had plenty. How about a coffee?” He offered.

“Nope I’m fine. I’m here for my friend Stacey. She likes you.” You drawled out moving your hips side to side dancing to a tune stuck in your head.

“And you don’t like me?” He pouted.

“Noooo” You whined cupping his beard in your hands. He kept pouting to milk some more sympathy from you but was completely taken aback when you pressed your soft cushiony lips over his. You pulled back staring into his eyes and said “I like you a lot! But sisters before misters you know. I couldn’t do that to my friend.” And now you were the one pouting.

He heard Henry clear his throat behind him “I’ll just go on home then. See you tomorrow man.” Andy couldn’t be bothered to turn around to say goodbye, his eyes completely focused on you.

“Oh no your friend left. Whatever you’re going home with Stacey anyway.” You looked around for your friend “Where is she? Oh no! She’s not here.”

Andy frowned looking around the bar with you “Don’t worry she must be in the bathroom or something. Why don’t you try calling her?”

You whipped out your phone from your bag. Your lips starting quivering and eyes turned glossy as you looked at it. “Hey what happened?” His instincts screaming at him to sooth your panic state. He just ran his hand up and down your forearm, there wasn’t much else he could do without seeming like a creep.

“My friend left! She said she went home with a wall street guy. Left me all alone.”

He frowned at that. “Your friend doesn’t deserve you.” He stated as if he knew you. He didn’t but he knew how loyal you were to your friend when you turned him down. Who would abandon such a sweet thing like you?

“And we were gonna go to dinner and everything.” You sniffled “I’ll have to walk home now.”

“No you won’t.” He blurted clenching his jaw. He knew just how bad men could be. He would never let a clearly inebriated woman go home alone.

Sure in any other case he would’ve called or even paid for an taxi. But he couldn’t say goodbye to you just yet. So he offered to take you home. And with some convincing you agreed.

He secured you into the passenger seat before putting your address in the GPS. He found himself laughing more than he ever had at your incoherent drunken ramblings.

“Do you believe in aliens?” Before he could even answer you continued “What if this is all just a simulation. By aliens. Like what if we’re in a tv show. That’d be awesome.” You leaned against the window, closing your eyes.

“Are you this funny when you’re sober?” He wanted to know. Although he had an inkling that you definitely would be.

“Yes I am! But my friends tell me I talk too much.” You said scrunching up your nose.

“I could listen to you talk all night. But I think we’re here.” He said parking across a building. “is this it?”

“Yeah” You nodded. “You’re right dude. They don’t deserve me.”

“Don’t call me dude.” He grumbled. You call your friends ‘dude’. And he had no intentions of being just a friend to you.

“Fine dude” You chuckled. “Do you have a pen?” You asked.

“Uh I think” He felt his pockets and then pulled out a fountain pen he always carried around with him.

You took it from him and shook your head. “You business men and your pens” You snatched his arm and started writing something on his palm.

“I keep telling you I’m not a business man.” He argued.

His heart swelled with giddiness as he saw you write down numbers on his open palm.

“Call me if you wanna hear me talk some more, ‘night.” You struggled to open the door before stumbling out. He made sure you got inside your building safely before he entered your number in his phone. He didn’t ask your name, too caught up in your rant about women’s jeans not having pockets. So he just saved it as ‘pink lady’.

He was so excited to hear from you again that he called you the next morning. Only you had given him the wrong number. He didn’t know if it was a mistake or if you had just lead him on. He considered maybe ‘accidentally’ bumping into you near your apartment. But then he saw you. In his class, as his student.

You didn’t seem to remember him but obviously had a crush on him. You weren’t such a confident talker without the influence of alcohol, the one time he asked you what your name was you just replied with ‘I’ve never had one.’ Which was adorable but also infuriating.

Was he so damn forgettable? How did you manage to do such a number on him, so much so that you haunted his wet dreams, but you had completely forgotten about him and the whole encounter. Going about your merry life, your mind not plagued with such unprofessional and unethical thoughts.

He wanted to know you. To hear you ramble some more or be awkward. Literally anything but the cold shoulder you were giving him. So he did a bad thing. He called you out when you were clearly too busy ogling him. He revelled in the sick pleasure he got from embarrassing you.

“Why don’t we go talk in my office?” He suggested and collected his books without waiting for your answer. You both made your way over to his office, you following a few steps behind him. “After you.” He said as he held the door open for you.

He locked the little latch as he closed the door, instructing you to take a seat. He wasn’t sure why he had called you over. It wasn’t like he could actually act on his feelings. Or ask you if you remembered him at all. It would be out of the question. He would get fired from the university, his reputation would be tarnished.

He took a seat at his desk shuffling through the papers in his drawer and brought one out on the desk.

He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he took in your demure state. How you had made yourself so small across him. He decided then. He couldn’t possibly not do anything about his feelings. Once his mind was set on something he HAS to have it.

Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to simply bend you over the desk and take you in the most primal way possible. But he could wait. In just a few months you would graduate and he would ask you out. There was a possibility that you would turn him down. Again. But he’d take his chances and get what he wanted. He always did.

“Your grades aren’t doing so well Miss L/N” He said passing the paper over to you. “It’s a C. You barely passed. If you don’t get a B or up in your next exam you won’t pass my class.” As much as he loved seeing you everyday he needed you to graduate so he could have his way with you.

“Oh” You let out as you looked at the test.

“That’s all you have to say? What’s wrong? Do you not understand my teaching?” To which you shook your head no “Maybe you should focus on your studies before going to clubs and getting drunk.” He spit leaning back in his chair. He knew he was being harsh, but he also knew that you needed some tough love.

“I – clubs?” You looked up at him and frowned “I don’t go to clubs! How would you know anyway?”

“Oh so you don’t remember.” He sneered not taking too kindly to being forgotten so easily. “January’s last Thursday. You were wearing a pink dress.”

You looked as if you were in deep thought before your eyes widened almost popping out of their sockets. “Oh my god! You’re that business man!” You gasped.

“Listen closely. Because I won’t say it again. I’m not a business man. I’m a district attorney and your professor.” He said sternly as he threw his head back loosening his tie so frustrated with you. He’d have to be patient. Something he very obviously wasn’t. It’s alright. You were worth waiting for.

“Sorry” You mumbled half heartedly. You knew you remembered him from somewhere. You thought you had dreamt of meeting a handsome and charming business man. Apparently you were wrong. “Why am I here professor Barber?” You asked.

“I told you. You need to get your grades up.”

“Yeah but I’m sure many other students must’ve gotten a C or lower as well. Why are you so concerned with me? What’s so special about me?” You spit with an accusatory tone.

“I care about all my students.” It wasn’t a lie. He did. He just cared about you a little bit more.

“Uh – huh. Then why did you lock the door?”

“I didn’t want anyone to disturb us.” He cleared his throat as he sat up straight in his seat.

“Sure.��� You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“Why? What are you gonna do about it?” You asked before exaggeratedly rolling them again.

He scoffed “You’re such a brat.” He shook his head. “I’ll have you straightened up in less than a week when you’re mine.”

You hummed at that. “In your dreams old man.”

“You’ll see sweetheart. I just have to wait till June.”

“Well how about you can have a little taste now? I can give you something if you can change my grade.” You offered biting your lips again.

He groaned at the tempting offer and sight “There’s nothing you can give me that will change my mind.”

“Isn’t there?” You got up and walked around the desk to him, exaggeratedly swaying your hips.

He moved in his chair to look at you kneeling between his legs. Rubbing your hands on his thighs.

“I’m sure I can change your mind.” You said confidently as you undid his buckle and pulled down his zipper.

“I doubt it.” A thought of maybe stopping you as you took his hard cock out of his briefs came to him. But then you looked at his length with such awe, as if you were admiring it.

“You like it?” He smirked.

You could only nod your head and try your best to not drool. “It’s the most beautiful dick I’ve ever seen.” You admitted. It was also the biggest, his rosy mushroom head slippery with precum, couple of blue veins adorning his thick shaft. You could wait to suck the life out of him.

“How many dicks have you seen?” He frowned. He didn’t really liking you thinking about anyone else’s dick, not when his was right in front of you. “Never mind. Finish what you started.” His impatience took over him as he pushed your head down, forcing you to open your mouth and swallow him whole. He moaned at the feeling of your warm wet mouth wrapped around him. “Relax your throat.” He ordered as he pushed deeper into you.

Sighing deeply as his tip hit the back of your throat, groaning as you choked around him before swallowing. “That’s it good girl.” He praised caressing your jaw. Rubbing away the tears cascading down your cheeks.

He pulled some papers out of his bag as your raised your brows at him. “I need to get some work done sweetheart.” He shifted his hips to sit back on his chair. “How about you keep me warm till then?” He said as you whined “What? Do you have other plans?”

You shook your head as he muttered a “Good” And started going through his paperwork. “You can swallow honey. But that’s all you can do. Don’t you dare move.” He warned.

It was proving to be quiet a task. He couldn’t really focus on anything but your mouth and how he wanted to just fuck it and you stupid. But he was teaching you a lesson. He had to wait a while before he came down your throat. Besides this would give him an opportunity to really savor the feel of you.

You laid your head on his thigh as he flipped through his papers for the next half an hour. Suckling here and there to not mess up his pants. When you realised that he might be interested in you, even just a little. You hoped he would just take you, make your dreams come true. You had no idea what the fuck this shit about waiting was. But you were too afraid to say no to him.

He haphazardly put down his pen. Releasing a shaky breath he finally took hold of your head. Rolling his hips a little, he pulled his length out and pushed it back in. Setting a slow and steady pace, knowing that he’d come all too soon.

You moaned as his hand went down to cup your breast fondling it so gently. He lost it as he felt the little vibrations “Do it again” He demanded as you moaned around his length. He held onto the back of your throat driving his hips up a couple of times before spilling in your throat. “Swallow it all.” He ordered as he pulled out of your mouth with a loud ‘pop’.

He groaned as he as your throat swallow a gulp “Clean me up. I have to go to work.” He pushed his tip against your lips as your tongue peaked out and licked what you couldn’t swallow and your spit off of him. You gave his tip a last kiss before tucking him back in his pants.

You stood up on wobbly feet, straightening the wrinkles in your dress. You went over to your chair cleaning your mouth up with a hanky Professor offered. “So you’ll change my grade now?” You pushed your test towards him.

He laughed “We never agreed to that sweetheart.”

“But I – but we – but I just!”

He shushed you putting his papers back in his bag “That would be unethical. You’ll be coming to my house for lessons. We have to make sure you graduate. Are you free tonight?” He looked up as you nodded “Good. Then we’ll decide if you’re worthy of a reward.” He pulled his laptop bag over his shoulder as he walked towards the door, unlatching it and holding it open for you. “I’ll see you tonight sweetheart.”

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[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Exception to the Rule

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Rating: M (?)

Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual themes. No smut, but I mean reader definitely wants to ride that cowboy. Period typical shame. 

Summary: There is one exception to your rule about forcing Arthur to forgo chores and take a rest, that is the duty of chopping firewood. 

Notes: Right, so I need someone to explain to me quite why I find men chopping wood to be attractive. I’m sure you can psychoanalyse the heck out of me from that fact alone. 

Can you tell i’m a tad touched starved and needy at the moment? Can you tell, good sirs?

Archiveofourown

Arthur Morgan was the workhorse of the gang and that was a bonafide fact. The man brought in more money and more supplies than anyone else in camp. Added to the fact that he also did more than his fair share of chores, you often worried that the big burly outlaw would work himself to death. Especially with him picking up the slack for those who never seemed to do anything around camp like Uncle and Strauss. 

Normally you’d stop him doing whatever chore he was doing, tell him to take a rest, go have a lie down and sleep or get some stew from the pot since he was the only reason you were even able to eat. You’d pull whatever he had from his hands and gently coax the man to go look after himself for five minutes which you’d manage to turn into at least an hour of down time. Every time he was reluctant, but grateful, asking you, ‘What’d I ever do to deserve you, darlin’?’ and every time you’d tell him something to the effect of ‘You were yourself, Mr Morgan’ while feeling flustered under his gaze. 

There was one exception to this rule you had about getting Arthur to take some time off and look after himself. That rule was that whenever the man decided to bolster the camp’s firewood store you left him to it. Now this wasn’t a selfless decision, not one born out of respect for the man’s love for swinging a heavy axe at a wood log pretending it was Micah’s head. No, the reason for this rule was entirely, completely, most certainly the fact that Arthur Morgan never looked more handsome or primally attractive then when he was chopping wood especially in the height of summer or during the warmer season. 

So, while you were most certainly going to hell and your late mother would be rolling in her grave, you found yourself on a stuffy warm day hands deep in a laundry bucket, but not really focusing on your work at all. 

“Y/N, he’s at it again!” It had been Karen who’d notified you, giggling in your ear as you looked up and across camp towards the tree stump that was used for chopping firewood. Your arms elbow deep in soapy water, you hadn’t really thought to remove them, just lean further forward on your hands, lips parting with a sigh. 

You don’t even care that you can hear the girls giggling behind you as they get on with their work, occasionally sneaking glances up at the same sight as you. 

Arthur was strong, if he were a horse he’d be his 18 hands high shire horse. If he were a predator, he’d be a brown bear. It was always more clear though when he decided to chop firewood. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, exposing thick, strong forearms dotted in scars and dark hair. You watched him roll his thick wrists once, twice before hefting the wood axe into his hands and up over his broad shoulders which tensed as he brought the axe down with a loud crack, the log splitting easily in two. 

You watched the blue shirt strain over the breadth of his shoulders every time he brought the axe down, listened to the grunts that left his mouth with effort, followed the droplets of sweat that beaded at his forehead before rolling down his cheek and neck, disappearing beneath his favourite shirt. He grumbled slightly to himself about the dig of suspenders in his shoulders, slipping them off to rest by his thighs and threw his favourite gambler hat off to the side as it got in the way of his swings. 

There was something about the immense power that Arthur exuded with each sharp decisive swing. The strength of his body combined with the sureness of his strokes made you slip a little with your hands in the washtub, splashing soapy water over the ground and your skirt with a curse. 

You quickly returned your gaze to your work as you noticed Arthur’s head twist to check on you. Ever the helper and protector, he always seemed to zero in on any sound of complaint or unhappiness you made. You couldn’t have him catch on to your favourite chore.

“Y’alright over there, sweetheart?” It was called across the clearing, concern riding his voice as he briefly let the axe fall to his side to check on you. It brought a warmth to your body, blood rushing through you towards your ears and cheeks at his concern and your mild embarrassment. 

“Oh, she’s just fine, Arthur. Don’t you worry about her!” 

“Karen!” You twist from your place knelt on the ground and reach over to slap her arm. The truth was as much as you were interested in Arthur, you were simply friends. You made sure he didn’t work himself to death and he made sure you smiled on bad days. It was nothing more, nothing less, even if the sight of him made you feel weak at the knees. The last thing you wanted was to be embarrassed in front of him over your...thoughts. 

“If you say so.” He gave the two of you a look before turning back to the stump. Putting it down briefly, you watched at first from the corner of your eye before being unable to resist his siren’s call as he unbuttoned the blue shirt and tossed it in a pile with his hat. Left in the top half of his union suit that clung tightly to the broad planes of his chest and the tight muscles of his shoulders, he was quite the sight. 

Your eyes followed the strong line of his neck as he circled his head to stretch out a tight muscle and draw a crack from uncomfortable joints. They followed it down to the unbuttoned union suit that revealed strong collar bones and dark chest hair. Followed it down to the strong wide breadth of his body. More interested in that than the wood he was chopping. 

“You might wanna close your mouth or else you might catch flies.” Tilly teases you, you would give her a playful glare, but couldn’t bring yourself to tear your gaze away from the specimen of a man that had gone back to his wood cutting. 

Another log, hefted onto the stump, biceps filling out as he bent his arms to lift it. Another swing of the axe, broad shoulders seeming even larger under the strain. Another grunt. Another droplet of sweat. 

“My mother must be rolling in her grave.” You say aloud, just a random thought, a little thing. That if she could see the heat of your gaze on Arthur, feel the warmth to your skin, know the itch in your belly, then she’d drag you by the ear to confessional where you’d have to tell the priest about all those thoughts. Like how you wanted Arthur to just throw you over his shoulder and take you back to his tent. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be having such wicked thoughts about our dear Mr Morgan, Y/N. Mighty improper of you.”

“Mary-Beth, I defy any woman to not have wicked thoughts when Arthur’s chopping firewood.” You hit back eyes finally drifting from Arthur to your friends. Each of them has the same look you’re sure was on your face. Each no doubt having done exactly what you had done when Arthur started unbuttoning his shirt in the summer heat and heaving a heavy axe over his shoulder. 

“She’s got a point, Mary-Beth, that’s a whole lotta man, right there.” Tilly chimes in and some of that guilt that gnaws at you for staring at Arthur in such an improper manner dissolves. You’re not the only one who enjoys watching him chop wood. You’re not wrong for it. You’re just a woman with blood in your veins. 

“It’s a damn shame he thinks he’s ugly. He’s the most handsome man around camp.” You sigh out, thinking about the harsh words he always uses for himself as you watch him continue working on the wood pile. His beard has grown out and frames his face beautifully, even with that spot that he can never seem to grow any hair on. You think he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever met, his treatment of you and the other girls only adds to it. He’s so...soft. So soft for someone so tough and rough.

“He is handsome, but you’re a little biased, Y/N. What’s the saying about saving a horse?” Karen titters.

“Ride a cowboy!” Tilly and Mary-Beth say it so loudly that you’re immediately shushing them, embarrassment flooding through you. As you catch Arthur once again turning in your direction, brow furrowed as he looks at your group. His hand reaches up to scratch as his beard and part of you wants the ground to swallow you entirely whole. 

“I...Get your minds out of the gutter!” 

“Only if you get yours out first!” 

“I...I.” You huff, returning to your abandoned washing, scrubbing one of Arthur’s shirts with a new vigour that you didn’t know you had in you. They giggle behind you before walking off to the washing line to hang clean clothes up to dry. 

You have to admit that your thoughts about Arthur tend to stray to the impure, especially at night when your mind is left to wander. He’s just so broad, so goddamn big and everything about him makes you want to wrap yourself around him like an alligator doing a death roll. Coming from a more high society lifestyle before finding the gang you’re not as comfortable with those thoughts as the other girls seem to be. There’s always that nagging thought in the back of your head that something’s wrong with you for lusting after him. That it’s not what a proper lady would do. But, he makes your heart ache desperately whenever you think of him. He makes your body warm and your lips ache for his. It’s not even just his body, it’s just him. You’re always longing for his company, eager to see him return from a job or a hunt just to hear his southern drawl wash over you with sweet kindness. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, darlin’?” You jump at the drawl, his deep voice unexpected. He’s abandoned his wood cutting, crouching down next to you. The frown speaks of his concern and you can’t help but smile softly at how much he cares about everyone including yourself. 

“It’s nothing, Arthur. Don’t you worry about me.” You assure him, your eyes fixed on the shirt in your tub that is more than clean by now after your aggressive scrubbing. You finally managed to get that damn bloodstain out. 

A hand reaches under your jaw and gently grabs your chin, lifting your eyes to meet his. It has a shuddering breath leave your lungs before you can stop it, the look that crosses his face goes from concern to confusion to understanding and flirtation as he realises just why you’ve let that breath out. Just why the girls were teasing you. 

“I always worry ‘bout you, sweetheart. Especially in this heat. Wouldn’t wan’ you to keel over now, all hot and bothered as y’are.” HIs thumb finds the hollow underneath your jaw and you can’t help but lean into his touch just a little bit more. 

“Seems I should be the one concerned for you, Mr. Morgan. What with you working up a sweat on a hot day like today.” Your voice is breathy and you feel a tinge of shame at how little composure you seem to be able to keep around this man.

“Well I th-” His advance closer to you is stopped, his words halt as Dutch yells from somewhere in the vicinity of his tent, “Arthur! I got a job for you, boy!”

With a heavy sigh and one last gentle swipe of his thumb under your jaw, Arthur pulls away from you. 

“I’ll see you later?”

“Always.” You reply watching him walk away, disappointed but not sure what you were expecting to happen. Were you hoping he’d kiss you? Were you hoping it would escalate further? That this burning in your stomach would find some relief, that your dreams would not be pure imagination anymore but have some basis in fact. 

You sit back on your heels with a heavy breath, eyes turning towards the washtub again. Back to work, you suppose. Like always.

[sp00kworm]

Silence (Part 3- Bloodhound’s Ending)

Part 1 -  A Bar Brawl

Part 2 - A Totem to Remember (Revenant’s Ending)

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Pairing: Bloodhound x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: None

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The Star Goddess - Bloodhound’s Ending

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Bloodhound had done well in the games recently. Keen eyes with even keener tactics had proven their worth countless times, in countless line-ups. They had a good number of wins under their belt and you assumed that meant lots of winnings. The customers had quickly become fans, and often you found them asking you about the mysterious champion and to put on the highlights for the latest match. You were always happy to put the highlights on for them when asked, and you enjoyed watching the expert tracking from Bloodhound on the screen. A few weeks of highlights made you wonder if Bloodhound would ever come back to your little bar in the outskirts of the city.

 A chirp from over your shoulder paused you in your humming. The washing robot chirped again as you looked at it and watched the screen as it flashed with a winking emoji and a smirk before red text scrolled along the bottom.

‘WASHING COMPLETED!’

You smiled and nodded, “Okay buddy.” You patted his front, “Did you manage to put them all away?” You asked.

The robot chirped with a nod, his green optics flashing before he held out a tub of the shot glasses for you to take.

“I’ll put them away, no problem. Thank you.” You took the box with a smile and moved back towards the cabinet to put all the freshly washed glasses back in their proper homes. You blew dust from the shelves and tutted before taking a duster and wiping the shelves down with quick strokes towards you, removing the thin layer of dust over the wood. It was much tidier with a dusting. After placing the duster away you started putting away the glasses in their correct places.

 You jumped when there was a knock at the front door. It was just before closing, but there wasn’t anyone in the bar, so you’d already gotten to cleaning up for the night. Another few knocks sounded against the metal and you placed the tub of glassware down before you headed over to the door and opened it a small amount.

A man stood in front of you, dressed in heavy pelts with a smile like a bears snarl. He gave a great laugh at you before pulling back his hood to reveal his bright white hair and beard, “It’s been long, krútt!” He raised his arms jovially before heaving his packs a little higher and pulling his hover-sledge a little.

“It has been a long, long time, Halldór.” You replied with a laugh as you let the traveller into the bar, “How has business been?” You asked as you helped him tuck his sledge in the corner by the door.

“Pah. What business?!” Halldór sneered as his icy eyes trained on the bar, “But you have had a makeover! Look you even have…what is name? Holovision!” He clapped his hands together before he tugged free his furs and hung them over the hooks by the door, “Did you get loan?”

 “Nothing like that…” You shrugged, “Some asshole came in here and started…well…” You grumbled, “A man died in here and I got a lot of hush money.” The confession was like poison and bitter in your mouth and you unhooked the bar door before closing it and facing Halldór.

“Hush money. Not good to get involved with those sorts…even after the war.” He tutted in disappointment, “But, I suppose the money went to good use.” He didn’t ask anymore questions, and you were glad, for both of your sakes. You knew that the Games would not be too happy with more people knowing about the murder. It was best left in the past, and that was where you would rather it stay forever. Just the thought of Revenant’s orange gaze made you grimace.

Halldór sat himself at the bar and smiled, “Come, come. Let me tell you about the Outlands! There are new faces and new stories to be heard.”

“How about we get to that after you show me what insane drinks you’ve brought.” You laughed as you reached for some glasses and placed them in front of the Outlander.

 Halldór scrubbed his hair back from his face and stood with a groan, hobbling tiredly, and dramatically, over to his sledge to take out items from the sacks laid across the metal structure. The sacks were large but Halldór reached into each of them in turn and pulled free a bottle of liquor from each, each of them wrapped tightly with brown paper and tied to stop them from breaking and spilling into the rest of his goods. He pulled all the brown paper free and revealed a brown bottle and two green taller bottles. They each had a hand made label and you looked at them before taking the brown one in hand and smiling at the label. Brennivín. You smiled at the label and turned it around for him to see.

“It has been a while since I’ve gotten hold of it.” Halldór chuckled as he squinted at the label, “That’s something strong right there.” He snorted, “I don’t think many customers would be after that.”

“Its more for a personal try.” You offered as you turned the bottle back to face him and hummed, “What kind of a price are you thinking of? I can give you a hundred for it.” You went in low, knowing you had room to bargain with the trader then.

 Halldór snorted at your offer, “I want at least two hundred for it. It has come a long way you see.” He smirked at your scowl.

“One bottle for two hundred. No way. One fifty.” You retorted.

“Not even one hundred and sixty?” Halldór teased you.

“Nice try. Not a penny more for you.” You chastised as Halldór laughed at you. You reached for your credit purse and pulled out the chips for Halldór to take from the top. He slid you the bottle and you took it from the bar top with a smile. The green label was stark with a writing you were sure you could not read in large lettering above the translation.

“I have something else you might like.” Halldór smirked as he went back to retrieve something else from one of his large sacks. He pulled free a large jar full of meat and sauce.

“That looks like death.” You commented at you watched the pickling liquid swill left and right.

“No, no. It is pickled meats. Goes well with Brennivín.” He said as you took the jar from his grasp to look at the long strips of game in the juice.

“I feel like you’re lying to me, but I’ll take it.” You hummed as you eyed the gamey looking meat.

“For you, eighty credits.” Halldór smiled and you handed him the credits without much complaint, wondering if you could find someone to eat it if you didn’t like it.

 Halldór tucked away all his goods before he sat down and slapped the bar with his palms, “Come then. Let us drink for a while, you can fill me in on what I have missed among the land of the living.”

You laughed at the merchant before you reached under the bar and plucked free a very suspicious looking rum, “Well you’ll be glad I got this then. I think it was made in some guys basement, but I know you like those sorts of drinks.”

Halldór laughed brightly, “You know me so well!” He threw his arms out with a guffaw and you laughed with him as you reached for the glasses and poured him a drink.

“To meeting old friend again!” Halldór cheered as he held his alcohol up. You clicked your glasses together and drank with each other late into the night, far past closing time.

    The memory of that hang over made your eyes spin in your skull, a reminder of how tired you had felt the next day as you opened the bar for the night, eyes half closed despite the insane amount of water you had chugged. It was another busy night, some days after your exhaustion, and you were rushed off your feet trying to get out the insane amount of drinks to customers without any help. Thankfully, your washing robot was happy to step in and help you out with serving, though he was no good at pulling pints. You’d let him start pouring and watched as his tummy for washing smacked the handles over and caused beer to spill over the sides, splashing everywhere as the robot fussed and chirped in upset. Now he was happily handing out bottles and cans of drinks as you took care of the pints and other more delicate drinks which the robot could not handle. It went a lot easier with some help and you felt less rushed off your feet as the customers eventually ebbed to drinking and speaking with the occasional refill for the larger groups.

 Closing time couldn’t come any sooner as you took in the last of the glasses and hooked your robot back up to the water to get on with the tidying. He chirped happily as the water started to churn in his systems and you laughed softly as he chirped a tune.

“Thanks for today buddy, you were a big help.” You cooed as you patted his shoulders and brushed off some dirt from him before you took your cloths and set to cleaning down the bar top and the tables

His screen flashed with a thumbs up emoji and you laughed again as the robot hummed to himself and happily set about working cleaning and stacking pots.

“That’s it, buddy. Too right.” You jokingly said as you headed back towards the tables on the back wall of the bar with the trigger bottle of disinfectant in your hand. The tables were particularly covered in beer and pieces of nuts. You grumbled at the mess, wiping away the sticky mess before you cleaned away the crumbs and sprayed it with disinfectant. The holoscreen played softly in the background announcing the end results of this season in the Apex Games. It was a rough season, but Bloodhound had finished with many wins under their belt, closely followed by Revenant. Neither was the winner overall, but you turned to watch the replays of intense moments and laughed at the knife in Revenant’s side as Bloodhound severed his coolant pumps and drove it three times up through his sternum, severing the rest of Revenant’s vitals before they laid the Simulacrum back and placed the gun over his chest with a nod of their head. The Simulacrum got what he deserved for trying to bait the hunter into fighting him.

 The call of a Raven sounded from outside and your head shot up as you paused cleaning the tabletops to peer through the window as the Raven hopped along the window ledge and pecked at the glass harshly. Two hands appeared from behind the wall to grasp the bird by its body, tucking its wings close before the hunter appeared, clad in heavy fabric and goggles, their respirator fixed firmly in place. Bloodhound peered through the window, Artur tucked under their arm before they nodded their head in greeting and knocked on the door quietly with three solid raps of their knuckles. You turned towards the door and unlocked the mechanism before peering out with a smile.

“Hey stranger.” You smiled at Bloodhound.

Bloodhound let Artur go at the birds incessant nipping to their gloves and watched him hop up their shoulder before replying, “It has been some time.” They commented, “I hope you have faired well.”

“I’ve been fine! It’s been busy but with the season over its finally winding down a little bit.” You let Bloodhound in through the door, watching as Artur hopped across their shoulders before cawing loudly at your face, his beak snapping at your nose.

 “Artur. That is rude.” Bloodhound reprimanded as they entered the bar, peering around the empty inside before they limped over to the bar and settled awkwardly on the seat, their foot perched on the stepping part of another stool.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” You watched Bloodhound as you rounded the back of them and lifted the bar door before standing behind the top and watching them squirm in discomfort, however minimalistic the movements were.

“I am fine. A small injury in the ring.” Bloodhound brushed your concerns aside as they adjusted themself on the stool.

“Revenant got you in that tussle, didn’t he?” You asked as you reached into the back of the liquor cabinet for the new bottle of Brennivín. You turned back to Bloodhound with a smile as you offered the green bottle to them and placed it on top of the wood. Bloodhound gave a breathy chuckle as they took the bottle and looked at the handmade label.

“The Simulacrum got his recompense for daring to try.” Bloodhound observed softly as they ran their gloved fingers over the label and reached to undo the top, pulling the cork with a deft twist of their wrist before smelling the strong liquor, even through the respirator.

 “Its strong. That’s for sure. I remember you saying something about cold glasses?” You reached under the bar and tugged out two glasses from the cooler, laying them on the top for Bloodhound.

“

“Yes. Though snow is still the best way to cool this.” Bloodhound huffed a laugh again as they poured a generous amount into each glass.

You took one in your hand and raised it to the hunter, “To…” You floundered, “I don’t know. What do we toast to?”

Bloodhound held their glass up, “To new friendships and a long rest.” They tapped your glasses together before laying the drink back on the bar and waiting.

“Ah, sorry.” You turned around as they reached to undo the straps of their respirator, “You don’t have to take it off if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Bloodhound tapped the back of your elbow, “I do not mind.” Their voice was soft but gentle, like the sound of a strong wave against the beach, powerful but not hurtful. You turned around and smiled at their scarred face, the pale skin covered in thin veins of tough scars from an old injury. Their goggles stayed in place with their head wear and scarves, which prevented anything else from being revealed. Still, the gently slope of their lips made you wonder how someone with such a pretty, yet scarred mouth, could be a vicious hunter in a game of blood sport.  

 Bloodhound ignored your eyes looking over their scars and gave a small smile. It was a simple small twist of the corner of their lips before they took a large swallow of Brennivín and hissed at the burning in the back of their throat, “That is stronger than I have had.” They coughed a couple of time before chuckling and motioning to your own drink which you had not touched, “You have toasted but not drank.”

You swallowed heavily, “I don’t know if I want to after your reaction, and you’ve been drinking it all your life.”

“It is not that bad, so long as your stomach is strong.” Bloodhound insisted with another chuckle, “You will be fine. Give it a taste.”

“If you insist.” You joked as you took a sip of the liquor. It took a moment for the taste to pass and the burning sensation to clench your throat, “Oh my…” You gave a sharp cough and cringed at the burn before breathing deeply to try and ease it.

“It is good for the soul.” Bloodhound chuckled again before Artur squawked and tried to dip his beak into the glass, “No, my friend, it is far too strong for you.” They eased the bird from their shoulder and watched the Raven protest and hop along the bar, ruffling his feathers and pecking at the wood and bar taps.

 Suddenly you felt at a loss for what to say. You had wondered if Bloodhound would ever show up. They were under no obligation to, of course, they had merely been interested in keeping Revenant in line, but you had to wonder if they enjoyed your company.

“So, what’s kept you away? Has Revenant kept you busy?” You asked as you watched Bloodhound sip at the drink.

Bloodhound gave a grumble, “Unfortunately. The robot cannot control itself.” Their fingers twitched in the motion as though they were playing with something and you watched them reached to their thigh and pluck free a short throwing dagger before they proceeded to spin the blade back and forth and around their fingers in a dexterous display.

“I don’t doubt that.” You commented as you dragged yourself over a stool and sat in front of Bloodhound, “I know it first-hand, after all.” You tried to laugh a little to not remember the night of the slaughter across your bar floor, but the blood and guts were fresh in your mind. The alcohol’s sting was welcome as you avoided Bloodhound’s eyes behind the orange tinted goggles.

 A hand on your own shocked you, and you looked up just as they slid the knife across the bar, the tip of the blade tapping at your wrist.

“You do not have to fear him, krúttið mitt.” Bloodhound uttered before revealing bright, white teeth. Two fangs dipped out from under their top lip and you found yourself staring a little as their other hand cupped your palm and squeezed softly, comfortingly.

“I don’t fear him…” You tried to ease your hand out with a gentle tug, “I just don’t want him near me or my bar, ever again. I wouldn’t hesitate to…to…”

“I admire your bravery, but you would be dead before you could touch a wire. He is an animal now, do not forget that. He would have little regard for your life.” Bloodhound grumbled again, “I have seen him torture my fellows. I know what he is capable of. You are best to stay away.”

“And what, you’ll protect me?” You scoffed, “I’ve heard that before.”

“I will.” Bloodhound’s goggled eyes looked towards your own, the deep brown glinting through with the shine of the antique lighting, “I will make sure he bothers you no longer, this I promise.” They covered their heart and bowed their head, “And if I fail, then you will have the right to hate me.”

 You took your hands away with a frown before shaking it and giving a wet, upset laugh, “There’s no need for the dramatics. I believe you.” You watched Bloodhound drag their hands back after a moment before you held the bottle of Brennivín again, “Another?”

“I would rather not partake again but thank you.” Bloodhound reached for their respirator and fixed it back into place. Their respirator whooshed quietly as you put the bottle back in its appropriate place.

“Do you have matches coming up?” You asked as you worked quietly behind the bar, facing the cabinet.

Bloodhound shook their head, the beads and bones of their hat clicking together, “Not soon, but I promised Loba I would help her practice her hand to hand.” They stated softly, “Though I think it is her way of gauging our individual abilities.” They confessed with a peer up the bar at Artur who was contently admiring himself in a metal nut dish.

Loba seemed to hardly need such training, “I think you’re probably right about that.” You chuckled, “Watching the test match…Well she really doesn’t need the training, huh?”

Bloodhound hummed in agreement, “She is up to something.” They commented mildly.

 “Like what? I thought you were all there for the contest and the titles…or whatever it is you all like.” You asked as you leaned over to finish the last of the liquor in your glass with another cringe and a cough. You decided one glass was more than enough for you as well.

“Titles?” Bloodhound hummed, “I have three titles of Apex Predator, but that is not why I do this…The hunt is what I live for.” They confessed with another look at their knife, their glove testing the sharpness of the edge before they levelled their gaze on you, “None of us are kind people, but there are far more dangerous folk than I in these games. I am here to honour my Gods and my family. Others for fame. Others for death.”

“That’s…” You swallowed, “I didn’t mean to assume anything.”

“You have done no harm. Now you know my reasoning.” Bloodhound nodded their head, “I live for the hunt and to honour the All Father.” They confessed quietly as they slid the knife away.

 There was a moment of quiet between the two of you before Bloodhound looked back at the door and to Artur who hopped along the bar back to the hunter’s arm. The Raven pecked at Bloodhound’s sleeve before he climbed back up to their shoulder, perched, watching you with two beady black eyes.

“I can’t say I understand it, but I respect it. It’s better than a lot of people.” You smiled at Bloodhound before remembering the jar of pickled meats you had gotten, “Oh, wait a minute. I know you want to go but I have something for you.” You rushed into the kitchen and rooted through the cupboards. Your washing robot chirped in confusion, large question marks floating over his screen as you finally pulled free the pickled game that you had purchased. Thankfully, when you rushed back into the bar, Bloodhound was still perched on their seat, watching you with their head slightly tilted in curiosity.

You placed the jar on the bar top, “I got these from the same merchant as the Brennivín. He said that anyone who liked Brennivín would love this.” You tapped the metal lid of the jar before sliding it closer to Bloodhound, “Take it as a thank you for what you’ve done for me.”

 Bloodhound eyed the jar before carefully pulling it closer with a gloved hand, their respirator whooshing quietly with air before they reached to undo the lid. It came off with a pop and carefully they leaned to look into the pickling liquid.

“Pickled pheasant.” They whispered before looking back to you, maybe to assess your motive and reasoning, “I have no had this since I was a child.” They confessed as they screwed the lid back into place, “There was an old woman, we all called Amma, who made the best. Sour but meaty. Cooked just right. She passed some years into my teenage life. So, I thank you. This is a fine gift, krúttið mitt.”

“You’re welcome.” You smiled before looking back to the orange goggles, which hid dangerous eyes, “You keep calling me that…What does it mean?” You asked.

Bloodhound shook their head, the metal beads and nuts of their headwear clinking before they stood from the bar seat, “Perhaps that is something for another day. It is late and I have a long way back to my residence.” They reached for the jar and tucked it under their arm, “Thank you, for the drink, gift and for your time.”

“Its not a problem. You’re actually lovely company.” You complimented.

“Thank you?” The hunter seemed a little flustered, “I am oft’ told I am…too stoic and boring.” Bloodhound gave a small breathy laugh before tipping their hat, “I will see you again. Good night.”

“Good night, Bloodhound.” You followed them to the door and closed it behind them, watching through the window as Artur took off into the sky and Bloodhound melted into the shadows past the streetlamps.

 The break between the seasons was a little longer this time. Various legends had injuries which needed to heal and personal business to attend to before they could get back to what they did best. That meant that Bloodhound had more free time to come to the bar. Sometimes they had a drink, but others they did not. The legend was not much of a drinker and you figured that out when one night they had around four drinks and swayed in their seat, back and forth, grumbling about each and every legend. Mirage came up often. It was usually how annoying the man was for a playboy. Loba came up a few times in the same category. A flirt by nature she managed to ruffle Bloodhound’s feathers often and the hunter made it clear how much they despised the foolery of it all. Other times, Bloodhound showed up after closing and simply talked about their day, carefully retelling tales they thought you would enjoy. That’s how the stories started. When you were alone, each with a drink and a snack, Bloodhound would think of a tale from their childhood, about the Gods or folktales which were too whimsical to ever believe. You were entranced by their voice and storytelling capabilities, and a few times you watched Artur settled down to sleep with the gentle rhythm. You yourself could have also fallen asleep with the peace that settled over you both in those moments. They became precious memories to you as you greeted Bloodhound at the door with a smile and a drink or food.

 All you had to wonder was if they felt the same way.

 The night before the season start was cold. The wintertime was rolling in, even to the city, and you made sure to keep the bar doors firmly closed the whole night and the heaters on. Even your washing robot complained about his coolants being far too cold. You shuddered in a jumper as you placed the last of the glasses away and peered at the clock. It was very late. A knock made you grin, even as your teeth attempted to chatter, and you headed to the small back door and unlocked the electronic system, smiling up at Bloodhound as they ducked a little to enter. Artur squawked on top of their head and you laughed as Bloodhound shook their head to make the Raven move.

“Good evening.” Bloodhound uttered, “Forgive me for being sudden, I know you have no said anything yet, but I have something to ask of you?” They asked in a rush, their voice betraying a small amount of urgency.

“Hi to you too.” You teased before stepping back to let them inside, “Sure. Is anything wrong?”

Bloodhound shook their head, “Nothing of the sort.” They promised before they reached to remove their hat, revealing a wrap of dark cloth hiding their hair and features from you still. They ducked their head and placed their hand over their heart, “Would you do me the honour of accompanying me out?”

 It was very old fashioned, but you remembered that Bloodhound had grown up very isolated away from the normal city life and culture. A smile split your face before you could control yourself.

“You mean like on a date?” You asked curiously.

Bloodhound swallowed audibly, “If that is agreeable to you? If not, then you may forget that this ever occurred…”

“No!” You rushed to catch their gloved hand and smiled, “I would be honoured…But let me get a coat, okay? Its too cold to be outside without too many layers.”

“Of course. Take your time. We will have to travel by hover to get there.” Bloodhound nodded as they turned back to the door, “I will wait at the front.” They promised.

“Okay. I’ll not be long. I just have to get a coat and lock up.” You rushed into the back and up the stairs to your small flat over the top of the bar. After snatching a warm coat from its hook and you rushed back and helped your washing robot back into the charging point before locking all the doors. Eventually, you appeared out of the front door and looked at the hovering vehicle.

 Bloodhound hopped from the vehicle and you looked at the old engines with a fond smile. It was similar to an ancient snowmobile, but it hovered above the ground with old technology, humming much louder than any of the newer modern models.

“I haven’t seen a mobile like this in a long time.” You nodded appreciatively of it.

“It is old, but she will get us to where we need to go.” Bloodhound promised with a soft chuckle, “It is up in the mountain.” They pointed up past the city outskirts to the mountain beyond, “The snow has fallen so we will need her to move through the terrain unhindered.” They stood by the side of the vehicle next to the back which was packed with fur and blankets. You smiled excitedly before you took hold of the hunter’s gloved hand and let them help you into the small back compartment. You sat carefully and laughed as Bloodhound flicked the hover mobile into action and punching the gas. The two of you streamed down the old roadways towards the outskirts, quickly leaving behind the blue light pollution as the fields turned into old pine trees.

 The mountain was cold, and you laughed brightly again as Bloodhound engaged the snow skis and the hover vehicle sprayed snow either side of you both. It was exhilarating to be out of the pollution riddled, busy city, and be in the fresh air of the countryside. You held your head high in the fresh, cold air and watched Bloodhound navigate the mountain with ease, their shoulders relaxed as they handled the controls with small turns and touches. You looked at the ancient trees with awe.

“Do you come up here often?” You asked over the hum of the engine.

“Not often enough.” Bloodhound replied, their feet planted firmly as they made a sharp turn and revved the engine again, heading up towards a large rock platform jutting from the side of the mountain. You looked at the place and wondered if it was warm, as there was no snow covering the grey surface of the stone.

“Is that where we’re heading?” You shuffled in your seat to look over the side of the vehicle.

“Yes. We are almost there.” Bloodhound peered over their shoulder, orange goggles glinting in the small amount of light from the lamps they had on the front and back of the snowmobile, “Keep inside. Some rocks could catch you.” They scolded as you headed towards the platform with another grumble from the old engine.

 “Careful. The snow hides holes and rocks.” Bloodhound jumped from the snowmobile before they held out their hand to help you out of the small seat in the back.

“Thank you.” You took their hand and hopped out before watching your breath steam in the air and laughing excitedly, rushing over the rocks to go and look out across the city below, “This is amazing!” You cried as Bloodhound dragged the blankets and a basket from the back of the vehicle, “How did you find this?”

“I have time to waste occasionally.” Bloodhound chuckled before they reached for another pack and you rushed to help, taking the large bundle of blankets to help them a little, “Thank you, krúttið mitt.”

“You still haven’t told me what that means.” You joked as you carried the blankets to the edge and unwrapped the cord which held them in a large roll.

Bloodhound placed the basket down before hefting the furs from their shoulder. They gazed over the mountain’s edge before replying, “It means something…like sweetheart.” They confessed in a hushed voice.

 You looked at them and smiled, sensing their unease, “That’s adorable.”

“I am glad you like it.” Bloodhound returned in a rush before looking at the pile of blankets you had set out and dragging them out on top of one another, “I did…I thought it was perhaps stepping over a boundary?”

“You worry a lot, you know.” You joked as you sat over the blanket and accepted a heavy, outstretched fur, “I…I can’t hate it, because its from you, and you mean a lot to me Bloodhound.”

“I…” Bloodhound seemed stunned, “You mean more than you know to me.” They draped another fur over you before sitting close and peering down at you through their orange goggles. You took the initiative and tugged your own furs over Bloodhound’s lap before sitting closer. You were close enough to feel the heat from their covered skin, but you only smiled and took one of their hands, linking your fingers before you looked out at the city, far, far below, and listened to the peace around the two of you.

 “I have brought food…like those…how do you say it. Picnics!” Bloodhound exclaimed softly as they dragged the basket over and squeezed at your hand, enjoying the contact even through their thick clothing.

“A picnic? What have you brought?” You asked as you leaned over Bloodhound’s lap to peer at the contents of the wicker basket. It was covered with a deep blue cloth and they dragged it away before revealing a small selection of food you had never seen before.

“They are delicacies from my home world.” Bloodhound pulled free a small jar and you recognised the pickled meat you had given them, “I thought it would be…nice to share them with you as I tell you a story. I had to spend a long time remembering this one.” They confessed as they pulled free a dense looking load of bread and a tub of butter, “If that is what you want?”

You tugged the furs closer and nodded as they sliced the bread on a plate and buttered you a piece, “Of course, you know I love the stories!” You gushed as you took the bread and took a bite, humming as Bloodhound fished you free a piece of meat and then showed you the mushrooms they had also covered in a form of sauce. It looked spicy and you gladly dug in as they cautiously reached for their respirator.

 Their hands reached for the straps and you watched the elastics loosen as they pulled the clips free and the respirator fell away with a quiet whoosh of air, revealing their scarred lower face. They smiled at you, revealing a single point of one canine before they took a moment to get used to the mountain air.

“Does it not hurt?” You asked worriedly, “I know…”

Bloodhound held up their hand before they coughed a few times over their shoulder, “No. It takes some time to adjust. The fresh air is fine, but the city. The air there hurts.” Bloodhound’s fingers squeezed your hand again in comfort as they coughed a few more times before finally growing used to the unfiltered air.

“These mushrooms…I’m amazed!” You cooed to distract them, happy to see them smile again as you gobbled another, “I never thought you…”

“That pickled foods would taste good?” Bloodhound teased with a small wheeze, “I confess, I thought you would hate them. They are an acquired taste, krúttið mitt.” They took a small bite of bread before seeking a large piece of game and tearing it apart easily with pointed teeth, chewing quickly before the rest of the piece followed. You only continued to eat, waiting for them to start the tale you wanted to hear.

 “Before there was day. Night ruled the frozen wastes.” Bloodhound started as they laid back, tugging you into the blankets so you could both gaze up at the bright stars hanging above the two of you, “There was a goddess of light, controlled by her ruler the Night, banished to a cage in the sky, twinkling in the halls of the Night as she wept tears of silver light from between the bars.” They gestured to the sky above, “She reached between the bars and begged the Night to let her free, to let her roam and dance across the night sky. He denied her, selfish and greedy for her light to himself. So bright was her light, he wanted to keep her beauty of silver flesh and hair for himself.” Bloodhound watched a start twinkle, “One day, the goddess wept again but she whispered to the tears as they dripped from her eyes, of the universe and adventure, of life and protection. The tears dripped from her cage and painted the halls with bright silver spots, blinding and glorious. Night returned to find her cage empty, the only remnants of his light the bright tears rolling from the stone and falling into the sky below, dancing over the blackness one by one, brightening the world with a glorious silver light. She danced that night, between her own tears, on pointed toes, jumping from light to light, causing the sky to twinkle with joy, even in the darkest of nights.” Bloodhound pointed to the North Star, “She wore a crown of stars, blessed in her freedom from her own tears, making constellations with her dances to defy the Night.”

 You gazed in wonder at the sky, “What did they call this Goddess?”

Bloodhound chuckled, “Nothing. She was simply, the stars.” They gestured to the stars again, “I think there is beauty in that story. She was free with her own will to dance and defy all those that would work against her.” They sighed, “It was my favourite as a child.”

“I can see why. It is a beautiful tale.” You whispered, trying not to disturb the peace that had settled over the two of you, “Even if it started so sadly.”

“Not as wonderous as you.” Bloodhound whispered next to your ear as they turned their head, “I never thought the stories would pale in comparison, but the Gods seem an eon away when I gaze at you.” Carefully, they reached to remove their gloves before they shakily reached to touch at your cheek, brushing their fingertips gently over your cheekbone. Bloodhound’s mouth parted as they followed the trail with their eyes. Their calloused hands touched your cheek and gently traced a path over your nose and then down to your chin, leaving a streak of heat in their wake, “It is blasphemy but I…” They swallowed, “I believe I love you. We have spent so much time together and you consume my mind no matter the task I undertake.”

 Fire laced your veins as you pulled the tracker forwards to press your lips to theirs, kissing their soft, scarred lips with fervour enough to demonstrate your point. Bloodhound was frozen for a moment before they returned the kiss, their arms wrapping around your back tightly as their goggles dug into the bridge of your nose. You didn’t mind. You pushed against them with a hum before moving away. Bloodhound tried to chase your lips, breathing a little heavier, a wheeze emanating from their chest.

“I love you too.” You whispered, cupping their cheeks.

Bloodhound smiled crookedly again before they reached up and pushed their goggles away. Their cloth dipped a little to reveal their bright ginger hair, tamed in braids and clasps, but you didn’t touch it, you simply looked into their deep, dark brown eyes, amazed by the mix of red in the colour. Their eyes were almost maroon. You kissed Bloodhound again.

“You…” They eased back, “You do not care that I am…”

“You are Bloodhound, master of the hunt and the one I love.” You gushed as you held them tightly, burying your face in their clothing, “Nothing else matters. We can take our time with everything else.”

“I…Thank you, krúttið mitt. You mean so much to me.” They confessed with another soft peck to your lips.

“I love you, Bloodhound.” You confessed again, affirming it even to yourself, as though it was not real.

“I love you too, my darling.” Bloodhound whispered against your ear as you clutched each other under the furs, laid before the night sky.

 The Stars twinkled across the central belt as the Goddess danced for the happiness that she had witnessed that night.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson- Chapter 7: Non-Productive Time

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: On a slow afternoon, Shane remembers a couple of fun evenings with Sy, and can’t help but start texting him…he turns out to be a bad influence.

Don’t want spoilers? Click me first to catch up!

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, a steamy scene that bumps up against the line of smut/not smut…it looks like smuttish is, in fact, a thing, (see what I did there? Toss a high five to your fic writer for the paraphrased Witcher quote in these here notes! lol! Sorry, i’m tired...and in a weird mood tonight...) so, anyway, using that. I love it. 

Author’s Note: This chapter was about half done before I even started SI1 and SI2! So that’s why it’s come along so quickly in the wake of them. It could also mean that there are some continuity issues…I found a couple during the re-write of the first part, and more when I was proofing, so it should be good, but…fair warning, one or more could have escaped me! Also, let me know if the text convo is hard to follow. I’ll try to reconfigure it to be more clear. It seemed to me like context was enough, and they’d had text convos before, and no one said anything…this one’s longer by about 300%, though, so…feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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@summersong69

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@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

Time seemed to pass slowly when Shane wasn’t with Sy. When they weren’t having dinner together, or doing their typical date thing. She thought about their second date. One of the bars in town, chosen for its above average bar food but mostly, it’s pool tables. The warning he’d given her via text had made her laugh:

We’re goin’ to Cade’s for apps and pool, if that's okay. As gorgeous as you looked in that blue dress you wore last night, I recommend jeans and a T-shirt for tonight, okay?

She took his suggestion. A simple black tee, because she was a food klutz from hell, layered over a red camisole, and her favorite jeans. It showed off her dainty arrow necklace well.

While they played, they drank beer and talked about life, getting deeper into things than they could at therapy sessions.

“Dad split when I was about ten, I guess. Mom did her best with her only son, but she sent me to my grandpa’s a lot when she was working or just…needing her own time. He’d been an army man. Fought in Korea. His dad was in World War II. It felt like…I don’t know, this pull, like I was meant to join up.”

“Destiny?” She asked. A dreamy tone overtook him when he talked about his family and his now former career.

“I guess. Never though too much of all that before.”

They smiled at one another. Knowing.

“What was he like? Your grandpa?”

“Oh, Pap was the best. He was a mechanic in the service and so he could get anything hummin, ya know? We fixed up and built motors for all kinds a’ shit. My first car was a ‘67 Shelby Mustang with the fast back all because when I was about 14, he found most of one at a salvage yard and basically rescued it from the crusher. Got it for about nothin’. For two years we collected parts and did body work on that thing. And by the time I turned sixteen, it was the most beautiful, show-ready Kerry green machine you ever seen.”

“One of my favorite cars! I’d love to see pictures!”

“I’ve still got ‘er.” He grinned. “When Pap died, it got…hard for me to drive her, ya know? So…special occasions only now. And he left me his truck, which he’d just bought brand new while I was on my first tour. That F150 crew cab we came here in, with all the bells 'n whistles. I couldn’t let such a fine automobile go to waste.” He grinned.

“You’re such a gear head.” She chuckled.

“Hey, you may be glad about that when you need somebody to get your own motor humming.” He teased back at her, bending over the table to take his shot and sinking it deftly. He said they would only play for fun, but he was still winning this round…which she didn’t think was that fun.

“Okay, I deserved that.”

“The shot, or the innuendo?” He asked to clarify.

“Yes.” They laughed. He eventually did miss, making it her turn.

"Ya know, I'm disappointed in this date, Shane." He baited.

"How come?" she asked, a bit hurt.

"A guy only asks a girl to play pool with him so he can show her how to shoot…and you already know."

It was true. She'd played a lot growing up and even a bit as she got older. She and her siblings loved billiards. Her whole family, really. And although she was no professional, she wasn't half bad for an amateur.

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently, sizing up the table for her next shot, but knowing with a fair amount of certainty what he was implying.

"You know. I wanted to get all close to ya. Show ya how to grip that cue in your hand. How to stand, bent at the hip, where to eyeball your shot from." he smiled. "All that shit ya see in movies that makes the girl all nervous and excited that the guy's touchin' on her. Pressed up against her."

Shane grinned, picked up the small, blue cube of chalk and rolled the concave side over the tip of her cue…she had no need to do so, most people didn't, really…but she made herself look really sexy doing it and asked Sy, "Is that right? Well, I guess you'll have to find another way to get your cheap thrills, because this girl has been known to run a table." She bent over the green felt seductively, the angle at which she did so displaying her décolletage in his direction just enough to tantalize him into licking his lips. She took her shot at the 10 ball, but sunk the 8 instead, losing her the game…damn. She shouldn't have gotten cocky.

"Run it where, sunshine? Into the ground? Off a cliff?" he laughed as she stomped over and began to poke him mercilessly in the ribs.

"Come on, Minnesota Fats. Let's pay the tab and find something a little cozier to do."

"Oka--wait, did you just call me fat?" he was incredulous. She laughed.

"Oh my God, you thought YOU were gonna teach ME about billiards…Minnesota Fats is like the most famous pool player of ever. I am not calling you fat."

"You messin' with me?" he squinted.

"Sy, google it. I promise. I would never call you fat. You're… my sexy man bear."

"Technically a bear is a fat animal." he sulked.

"Why don't you tell that to one when it's chasing you down to make a meal of ya!" Shane laughed. "Come on. Remember? I think I mentioned something about… finding another way for you to get cheap thrills. Lets explore that, shall we?" she whispered into his ear. He dropped some bills on their table nearby to more than cover their food and beer, and they hauled ass into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had definitely been exploring. In the two weeks since they'd been given the green light to see each other outside of therapy--the day Sy basically handed Shane's boss her own ass--they'd spent most evenings with each other, unless Shane had a particularly late evening at work or an early day the next day. A few nights, they had been together so late, that just staying over seemed the most reasonable option. But they had both agreed to take things slowly with the physical stuff. It had been a long time since either of them had been in a relationship, and given their patient/therapist situation, waiting a while for the sex had seemed like a good idea…on paper. On the sofa had been a different story.

One day last week, she'd had to make an early night of things, and stood up from his couch, but was pulled back down to straddle his lap.

"Hold on a minute, sunshine. Why don't you gimme a proper goodbye before ya go, hmm?" he held her so close to him at every curve of their bodies, like the pieces of a puzzle snapping flush together. His kisses were deep and agonizing, his beard gently brushing her mouth, teasing her with its uncommon softness. She returned the ardor, squeezing him in every way she could.

She couldn't contain the desire pooling at her center, especially when he clearly couldn't contain his, either, straining against his shorts, pressing against her so deliciously, right where she needed him. She didn't hold back. And he was nothing if not encouraging to her endeavor.

"That feels so good, baby. You're so warm. Mmm." he whispered as he nipped at her ear and bit at her neck. She hadn't intended to, but she felt herself slipping over the edge, into pure euphoria and gripped at his hair, still rather short, though growing out from the mandated buzz. The length made him even more sensitive and when she ran her hands up his neck and over the back of his head, the result was like an electric current straight to his manhood. His body tensed as his release followed hers seconds later.

"Fuck." he said. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" she was truly confused.

"For losin' it like a teenager." he sighed and laid his head against the back of his couch in surrender…an unfamiliar sight, Shane was certain.

"Don't worry about it. I mean…it's not quite how I pictured our first time, but--"

"Oh, hell no. This doesn't count as a TIME, sunshine. This is batting practice. A warm up.”

"Ooh, you and your baseball references again. I told you, I need to leave, Sy. You can't get me worked up with that kinda dirty talk." she kissed his cheek, and stood. "Walk me out?"

He did. And they stood holding one another in the dark, leaned up against her Explorer, Sy's back against the door, Shane's cheek on his bare, hairy chest, and the turning of the earth all but forgotten.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had to stop thinking about him. About their dates and the time they'd spent together. But her schedule had fallen apart for the day due to a nasty storm that had blown in, she had no more education to work on for now, and she could only clean and organize her treatment room and desk so thoroughly.

She guessed…the secretaries knew she was available if need be…and she was salaried…what was the harm in texting Sy? She'd stayed late and came in early and overworked herself in general so much for this clinic. She could justify a bit of downtime.

Hey! Whatcha doin?

Just did some exercises that my super hot PT gave me! *winky face emoji*

Uh-Oh, should I be jealous?

Mmm, hard to say, sunshine. I guess it'll depend on which one of you sleeps with me first. *devil emoji*

Smart money is on the one who’s already let you get to second base…and basically third, even though…does it count if it’s basically because of a dare. Induced by Jack Daniels?

I think it counts if you came…*smirk emoji*

Damn those skilled fingers and Tennessee whiskey.

What can I say. I told ya I knew how to get a motor humming. *cool guy emoji*

You certainly do. No doubt about that.

So how's your day goin', sunshine?

Eh, everyone's cancelled on me. I have no one until 4:00, and I have nothing to do until then. I've decided to see it as a blessing and text my favorite fella.

And when he didn't respond, you resorted to me? *smirk emoji*

Hey you know that you have no competition for my affection other than like, my dad…and Chris Evans. Lol

Your dad, I'm sure I couldn't compete with if I tried, from what you've told me. Chris…well, I'm a REAL captain, not some guy jumpin' around in tights.

Mmmm, shame. I bet you'd look good in a getup like that. *heart eyes emoji*

You think so?

Yup! *American flag emoji*

You wanna be my Black Widow?

I mean…I've already basically got a costume…*embarrassed monkey emoji*

*several lines of big eye emojis*

Yeah, a few Halloweens ago…I was Romanoff. Now you know. I'm a total nerd.

I'm a nerd, too, sunshine. Serious nerd.

How am I just finding out about this? There's next to no merch at your place, and you never wear typical nerd shirts…*skeptical face emoji*

You haven't seen my whole place…*wink emoji*

What, are you telling me you have Batman bedsheets? *lol emoji*

Oh, it's much…much worse than that. The bedroom is pretty neutral, but…I have a…kind of rec room in the basement that is basically nerd central.

Oh. Em. Gee. I can't WAIT to see that, Sy!!! And how dare you hold out on me!!!

Well, I mean, I didn't wanna lay out all my cards right off the bat. I'm playing the long game.

Ah, so, when do I get to see this nerd trap?

Come on over, sunshine. *smiley face*

I said, I've got a patient at 4:00.

Everyone's cancelled on you. Can't you cancel on them for once?

Not unless I'm violently ill do I ever have any patients cancelled on my behalf.

So…say you're violently ill and come see me. *shrugging man emoji*

I dunno, Sy…

I got stuff to make that soup you like…

She had made it clear to him how much she loved soup, especially a good creamy potato soup, and on one of their dates, he'd had her over and there was a big pot of the stuff on his stove, made from scratch. She'd never had better, and he almost got lucky that night…and I mean…he still got a little lucky. He cooked for her AND cleaned up, AND let her pick the movie that night. She still picked an action movie, because she wasn't really a romance movie type, overall. Even so. Could she leave him hanging?

She opened her thread with Heather in her messenger app on her laptop.

Heather, is there anyone who could take my last patient, Mr. Lopez?

Looks like Cheri has a cancel around that time. Need me to move him?

If you could. I'm not feeling well.

Are you pregnant?

Omg, every fucking time. Why when anything is amiss in a woman's life must it be pregnancy?! And why is it okay to ask that question?! Ugh! She loved Heather like a sister, and it probably was just a joke, but uuuuuugh!

Yes…yes I am. *eye roll emoji* I've got a killer headache that's making me queasy. I'll email Susan. Thanks.

You bet. Tell Sy I said hi. *wink emoji*

Shut up.

After a quick and concise email to her boss, she picked her phone back up. One unread message.

You there, sunshine?

She simply replied,

Get that soup ready, Captain, I'm on my way.

Up Next: Chapter Eight: Heat/Ice

[mellow-em]

Bedlam (Sam Drake)

PROLOGUE: ALL GONE 

The life she had built in only a year had disintegrated, and she was set on her stubborn mindset of finding her purpose away from Jackson. 

I DO NOT OWN ANY TLOU OR UNCHARTED CHARACTERS! ALL RIGHTS GO TO NAUGHTY DOG!

(This is a tlou x uncharted crossover. It’s set in tlou universe, but its a fic between an oc of mine, and Sam! I’m not sure how this is gonna turn out so please bear with me)

Chapter 1

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Jackson, Wyoming

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His face was illegible beyond compare, signifying my speculations were true. My recollection of the previous year had felt feverish now, as if I couldn’t graze my fingers on the memories we held between each of us.

“You’re fucking lying.”

Denial.

He lowers his head, only showing the textured black hair, that glistened with flecks of grey and white. His shameful stature made my fists clench beside me. If I didn’t know any better, I would collide them with his face; a face that held floods of imperfections already.

The pitiful man that stood before me couldn’t even relay a word out into the open. He remained mute, and shook his head at the ground.

I hadn’t realised my breath was held at my throat, creating a hoarse sensation that began choking me. I was drowning in the searing atmosphere around the both of us, as it was anything but tranquil.

Regardless of my state of pure vexation though, I took it upon myself to suck in a breath of dry air, only to release it in a huff. I mirror his actions as well, bowing my head to take in the details of my shoes.

We had found these a few months back, along with some for Ellie. Her harsh aura had been flipped as soon as I presented her with the idea that we would have matching pairs of sneakers. It was the smallest of gestures, but it was done at a time of hope.

This version of hope so happened to be revived ten times greater than before, when we finally reached our goal given to us a year prior. But now, I finally realize that it was false hope.

With my reclaimed memories flooding back, a final statement replayed in my mind: If the fate of Ellie and I had looked like this before, I would have turned my back on the journey immediately.

“After everything we’ve done,” I felt the salt-tasting droplets of tears fall from my eyes, and down my reddened cheeks as I looked up at the selfish bastard I thought I knew, “after everything Ellie’s gone through, she-” I quickly lowered my head again, suffocating from my own words.

I sat myself down on the steps of his home. It had become habitual for me to reside at his place ever since we made it back to Jackson. Sitting on his porch, with a plate of food in our laps as we talked endlessly began to give me a form of peace after our horrific adventures across the country.

Now, it felt like I was stuck in a sustained deception of what I thought was a simmering hush from reality.  

With my head in my hands I let out a soft stifle of a cry, as I sat there in complete disbelief.

Then my heartbeat fastened, and my rapid movements from my anxieties stopped as I realised something.

“Ellie doesn’t know… does she?” my voice was delicate, but it still  held every sparing trace of anger sternly.

The silence continued to speak the answers for him, giving my hunch an even bigger victory. I truly didn’t want to believe this.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” I groaned in agony as I stumble off the steps, feeling the sheer pain overwhelming me.

I clutched my chest as I felt it ring itself out, creating a boulder of tension within my entire body. I stood in the middle of his lawn, hyperventilating from the truth bearing its sharp daggers deep into my frame. The world around me was spiraling out of control, causing my balance to falter slightly.

This resulted in him rushing to my aid, but we damn well knew I didn’t want it. As soon as his hand grazed my arm, I swatted it away harshly, and twisted my body to face his worrisome one.

The developing resentment I had for him was far from dwindled, staying true within my eyes as I bored my stare into his. As I looked into his hazel ones, I could see each memory through them; the good and bad.

Floods pricked at my waterline again as I stared him down. Keeping myself contained from lashing out was becoming harder with each passing minute.

That was when one final memory was displayed through his dilated pupils.

The words replayed within my head.

“Swear to the both of us that everything you said about the fireflies is true.”

“I swear.”

Actuality set in again as I felt his hands gently caress my shoulders. The touch created fumes of heat that set themselves off completely, and my exasperation manipulated my system. I hadn’t realized I had my hands clenched in tight fists again until one finally met his face. Maybe I didn’t know any better.

He stumbled back slightly, his hand jerking its way to hold his pained cheek. He now had a wave of anger across his features, with his hardened attitude spiraling as much as mine.

Only my excuse wasn’t as far fetched as his must have been.

I tried to keep a firm stance, even with the overwhelming feeling of unconsciousness threatening the adrenaline and I. 

I still kept my fists clenched at my sides, with my knuckles fading into a white color,“You’re fucking selfish, and I hope you fucking know that.”

He mimicked my demeanor, as he stepped over to me. The closer he got, his frame began to tower over me. Though if his plan was to intimidate, he should know by now that it doesn’t work on me anymore.

“I did what I needed, to save you both.” His venomous, southern tone reverberated down to me, while his words contradicted it.

“Save us? “I laughed sarcastically, with a malicious hue coating me. I began to pace back and forth in front of him as I spoke, “Is that what were calling mass murder of the innocent these days? I suppose that goes for lying and manipulation too?”

“Kate-”

“Joel.”

His name drenched my mouth in poison.

Joel let out a heavy sigh, from what seemed to be frustration, while I wiped my tear-stained face aggressively.

He brings his hand to his face once more, stroking his unkempt beard while looking away. I held my gaze on him however, draining every last second I needed to be around him for.

An uneasy feeling began to settle within the pit of my stomach; I knew exactly what it was about.

I couldn’t bear to stay here any longer. This truth made the relationship I had with him, and life in Jackson unsalvageable. There was something pulling on my arm, however.

It was the thought of abandoning Ellie, knowing damn well I couldn’t do such a thing to her without letting her know. It would haunt me.

But, I wasn’t going to sit here while people were perishing by the second. I wasn't going to pretend life could feel normal again, regardless of my urge to live in such a fantasy. It may be something I wanted, but not something I needed. 

I knew for a fact that Ellie would feel the same if she knew the truth, but for once, I wanted the kid to live in this unrealistic version of tranquility; she needed to try an experience of what her teenage years could be like, even if it’s fucked up to extremes.

It wasn’t long before my contemplative thoughts were put to rest as Joel’s voice rang in my ear. I sigh, transferring my focus onto him. I knew what needed to be done.

“Kate, listen I-”

“Ellie,” I gulp down the saliva building up in my mouth, “I need you to take care of her.”

His face was glistening with confusion now.

“And tell Tommy and Maria I said thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Kate what the hell are you on abo-”

“I’m leaving,” I direct my eyes to the mountains beyond the borders of Jackson, crossing my arms in front of me, “I should be gone long before sunrise, so.”

I glance at Joel without moving my head, and see his face noticeably falling as the words fell from my lips. Silence tore a hole within us for a short time, only for Joel to be the first to speak.

“Do I need to remind you what is out there?”

“If you haven’t figured it out yet, Joel, I can take care of myself just fine.”

I begin to walk past him fixing my attention to gathering my shit, and getting the hell out of here. Though, Joel’s hand firmly grabs at my wrist, halting my attentiveness to the steps of the house ahead of me.

I yank my arm back to its rightful place at my side, shooting him a final look.

“Goodbye, Miller. Don’t come looking for me.”

I then walk myself into the house, deserting the former smuggler out in his front yard.

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The life within the town had lessened to the hidden infestations of crickets that were scattered throughout,  and the sounds of my converse crunching the textured, dirt paths of Jackson.

There was a slight alteration to the electrical systems around here, leaving the barbed wire on one section of the fence to loose its function; along with sneaking past guards, it was the perfect getaway without getting noticed. 

Before even reaching a few yards towards the fence, I remember something.  I still had one last thing I needed to do before returning to the life away from here.

I exhale a large puff of air in frustration, and turn back towards the direction I had come from. I reach into my jacket pocket, just to be sure I had what I needed.

My hands held a letter, along with a worn out, yet surprising functional cassette. As I ventured down the roads, the written prompts from the letter replay.

Ellie,

I wanted to give you a proper goodbye, but it just wasn’t possible.

I’m sure you’ll be wondering where I have run off to, and why I won’t be in bed when you go to rudely wake me up by jumping on me.

I’m leaving Jackson. I have some personal things that have been eating at me, and I need to sort them out myself.  I told Joel to watch over you, and make sure you live as much as possible.

I’m not just talking about breathing. I need you to live your life up in Jackson as much as you can.

You deserve more happiness than anyone on this earth, Els.

And speaking of, I know you loved the song I sang to you at the bonfire the first night we were here. I found this a long time ago even before I met you and Joel. Consider it a very early birthday gift from me.

I love you kiddo.

-Kit

I felt something wet trickling down my face, only for me to abruptly swipe them off my scar-stained complexion.

I soon made it back to square one, making sure I remained quiet so both Ellie and Joel continued to sleep. If it were other situations, I wouldn’t mind too much. But I couldn’t face either of them any longer, as cowardice as it is.

I twist the doorknob to Ellie’s place, begging for it to be unlocked. Luck was my side, with the handle gently twisting with my hand.

With a few swift motions, I sneak myself in, silently closing the door with delicacy so Ellie wouldn’t wake up.

Her room was just coming together from it’s appearance; her worn furniture had been disarray across the wooden floors, along with several new articles of clothing scattered throughout the room. 

My eyes wandered to the posters plastered across the walls, that I assume were freshly hung up. It was beginning to look like the small garage was home to Ellie, making my anxieties for her adjustments here less of an issue than before. 

My attention finally directed itself to her frail stature, cuddled in a bed much larger than her. If it was possible, she could get lost in a bed like that due to her small frame.

She had a quilted blanket lazily draped over her, and a wide range of pillows supporting her head. She had been facing away from me, but I knew she was sleeping with her mouth open, as I could here the loud sounds of her breathing.

I smiled, wishing I was able to stifle a laugh without releasing her from her slumber. She had always been one to leave her mouth hanging open as she slept. The result was constant bantering between me poking fun, and her becoming defensive. 

Our relationship had developed so well over time, and it had begun to feel like she was my daughter. My other half. 

My smile immediately dropped as I dragged myself back into reality, and the reason why I was even here in the first place. I needed to do this, for myself and for her. I shook my head from its thoughts, and started for the direction of Ellie. 

I made sure to walk to her bedside table as quietly as my frantic self could, hoping I didn’t disrupt her sound sleep. With each step closer to her, I held my breath, hesitant to even do this at this point. 

As soon as I make it to her, I took in the features grazed upon her round head; her large cheeks sat with a shade of pink coating them, along with her freckles overriding her paler skin. Her eyes were closed gently, with her brows flatlined.

She was so peaceful when she slept. 

I took out the letter and cassette from my pockets, gracefully placing them both on the table without a trace of a blare. 

I held my fingertips on the letter, as if I were glued to the rustic piece of paper. I was hesitating again, so it was time for a push. 

I released my hand from it, and turned to Ellie. Before I could even think, I leaned towards her, and kissed her temple weakly, and backed away. 

As I had done before I went to the door with as little sound following me as possible, and twisted the knob of the entryway. 

The door was open now, blowing the soft, night winds onto my face as if it were patches of silk. 

As a final goodbye, I mentally threw a farewell into the open, as I gazed at my surrogate daughter one final time. Before I could shed a singular tear, I rushed out of there as fast as I could, releasing the tension-building breath I had forgot to unleash before. 

“I’m sorry.” I mumbled, with my voice becoming fragile as I spoke two final words in Jackson. 

It was time to walk away. 

As I venture back towards the fence as stealthily as I could, another set of Joel’s wise words skipped on a countless loop in my thoughts.

“No matter what, you keep finding something to fight for.”

I needed to search for my own answers, whatever they were.

This was, and still is something to fight for. 

I’m sorry.