#gun holster highlight

[priscilla9993]

Ooooh, never noticed how often and commonly he has a gun on him. Just imagine him and David getting along as boisterous buddies. Wish Killian and David could compare badges, wacky cases that happen in their small areas, and humorously how much better they are than the other.

365 days with Killian Jones: Day 127 (Rogers + Gun Holster)

[charliemwrites]

Mafia!Price warm up because I am… so tired. I’ve had back-to-back events the last few days and ya bitch canNOT hang. So, while I rehydrate and wait for caffeine to work it’s magic, here’s this:

Part 1 here

No Content Warnings

Mr. Price is the best boss you’ve ever had. He’s straightforward and blunt, but unfalteringly courteous. Likes things a certain way — his own way — but that’s nothing you’re unfamiliar with from rich men responsible for billions. At very least, he seems to respect when you challenge him.

“We’ve always done records this way,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” you answer serenely, “but that was before you had me.”

He stares you down and you beam right back, tablet balanced on your forearm. One beat, two. In the corner of your eye, you see Gaz shift. You tilt your head at your boss.

He sits back in his big office chair, thumb swiping over his index and middle fingers. A gesture you’ve been mentally cataloguing as “contemplative” — perhaps deciding if he’s annoyed or amused. You don’t let yourself get nervous seeing it; you’re good at your job and you know it. He’s going to know it too, by god.

“And what do you have to do with it, luv?”

Your smile stretches wider as you take that as an invitation to round his desk. He turns and shifts a bit to make room for you, eyebrows ticking up as you set a neatly paper-clipped report in front of him, highlighted for convenience.

“See here?” You point at one section, a list of finance records. “Inconsistencies that the accountants took two months to notice. Two!”

He grunts as you set it aside, face up, for further perusal and then show him the next set. Different highlighter (and a smiley face in the corner).

“And look here, doing it this way, we noticed the discrepancies within a week,” you explain.

He picks up the page, eyes scanning over it thoroughly before setting it down. Taps his index finger over the discrepancy (circled in bright red) twice.

“Would you happen to have the account — ah, thank you.”

You hum, smoothing the sticky note (hot pink, shaped like a heart) onto the page. “So what do you think, sir?”

He runs a hand down his face, palm rasping over his beard. But there is a grateful note to his gaze as he glances at you.

“We’ll be doing it this way from now on, then.”

“Thrilling, sir. I’ll send out a memo.”

He waves you off, frown already forming on his face. You politely leave his office, stop by the break room to make a fresh cup of tea (a dollop of cream only, no sugar) and knock on the closed door. It’s Gaz that opens it.

“For the boss,” you say. “Before heads start rolling.”

“You’re a doll,” he breathes, accepting the cup and slipping back inside.

You happily toddle back to your desk and begin calling appointment confirmations. You’ve got about a million emails and a hundred calls to make.

—

Working for Price also comes with some… eccentricities. For one, you have a driver now.

Usually Farah, sometimes her partner Alex. On the rare occasion it’s Gaz. They always usher you into the backseat. On rainy days (so, most days in the UK) they hold an umbrella over your head while you scurry into the luxury leather interior of whatever stupidly expensive ride you’re taking.

That was a non-negotiable when you and Mr. Price discussed the details of your employment contract with him. Something about safety…? You feel silly being driven to work as an assistant, but it was your first encounter with the Steel Gaze of Decision and it was unfortunately effective.

Not that you mind the rides! All three of your usual drivers are wonderful. So friendly and chatty. You love hearing about Alex’s niece and Farah’s hobbies, Gaz’s little “spats” with Soap. You spoil them with extra treats from whatever bakery you make them stop at for morning breakfast. (Always local, you love supporting small businesses and strong arm Price into doing so as well).

There’s the gun as well. You’ve only seen it once or twice, always discreetly hidden under his suit jacket. A shoulder holster, all black. Pretend that you don’t see it because… well, you’re not entirely sure it’s legal and you’d rather live in the blissful cloud of plausible deniability.

And speaking of — there’s his bodyguard. To be fair, bodyguards aren’t a new or weird presence with your bosses. Expensive men, they need protection. Ghost is a different kind though.

He always covers the lower half of his face — actually, he’s covered head to toe. Usually in black, sometimes with little skeleton or skull motifs. And he’s fucking big, which is saying something because Mr. Price isn’t a small man either.

Ghost hardly interacts with you, but he’s unfailingly polite when he does. Not talkative, but he holds doors for you, has walked you down to the car. Even once attitude-checked a guest that decided to be rude to you. Didn’t even say anything, just walked into the guy’s personal bubble and stared him down until he subsided. Then he turned, gave you a nod, and you squeezed his arm before toddling off to let Price know his appointment had arrived.

All around the vibes in the office are pleasant, if sometimes stuffy. A little odd. All of his employees are polite if not kind to you, and Price himself is a fair and reasonable man — at least with you.

(The first time you heard him raise his voice through the closed office door nearly scared the daylights out of you. He always uses a low, even tone when speaking to you, so to hear his voice booming like that was something of a shock. Even more shocking was when he opened the door — damn near throwing his “guest” out — before turning to you.

“Call Farah when you have a mo’, would you?” He asked, calm as you please.

You blinked, still having war flashbacks of your last boss. “Yes, sir.”

“Cheers, luv.”)

There’s also the “field trips” as you call them.

Mr. Price is something of a very “hands on” businessman (“micromanager” you tease when he’s in a good mood) who has a hand in several industries. One of them is shipping. Which means that sometimes you find yourself standing beside him in warehouses or at loading docks. And of course you have to go, you’re his assistant! You take meeting notes, provide information or report details. Basically act as his second brain while he reams out idiots or organizes plans.

You suck it up, but you rather hate the smell of low tide. And the occasional gusts of blood on the sea breeze from fishermen gutting their catches. Price catches you looking ill once or twice and at least makes an effort to keep things short after that.

“Poor thing,” Soap teases when you’re in the back of the car, fussing at your wind-swept hair. “Get a bit blown, did you?”

“MacTavish,” Price snaps.

That’s the other thing. Even the slightest hint of suggestive or inappropriate words at your expense are met with firm, almost harsh, reprimand from your boss. It does wonders for you nerves and your respect for him.

“Wish I’d known we were going to the docks,” you sigh, carefully picking at pins to fix your hair. “I would have used more hairspray.”

“Thought I told you?” Price says.

“No, sir, you did not,” you answer, long-suffering. “You know you can put it into the scheduling app, right?”

He blinks. “Scheduling app.”

You blink back at him. “Oh, dear. Here, look at this.”

You spend the entire ride back to the office showing him how your scheduling software works so that you don’t have to deal with any more surprise dock visits.

Previous | Next

Masterlist

[adelheidvonschicksal]

⋆｡°✩ DARLING, DON'T BE AFRAID

Summary: Despite living with Xavier for the past few weeks, you still haven't taken the plunge to see if all this time together make you anything more than roommates especially when he disappears again in the middle of the night. Determined, you decide to question him on where his feelings lie. You just never thought a simple kiss on the cheek was the only push needed.

Pairing: Xavier x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: Roommates AU, Vanilla Smut (A lot of it. Like 7k words of smut), Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Emotional Sex

Word Count: 12,000~

Note: Sequel to Do Roommates Sleep Together. This part can be read as a standalone. So not necessary to read part one but it adds more context.

AO3 Link

You make a final decisive pull of the trigger. A loud pang resonates in the air and smoke spirals off the barrel. The Wanderer disappears in a wisp of debris and dust that is quickly caught in the wind.

Xavier stands a few feet in front of you. His sword twirls with one final arc of light illuminating behind the sharpened tip before it dematerializes in his hand.  You’re oblivious to the way his eyes search and find you on instinct as you run eager fingertips on the warm barrel of your pistol. 

“Mission completed. We should report back.”

You raise your head to meet his gaze while your gloved fingers remain faithfully on your weapon. The adrenaline from a successful mission is still surging through you.

“I want to test out my guns some more.”

His eyes soften at your response, but the weight of his gaze is still heavy as he walks towards you and places his hand on your head. 

“There will be more Wanderers tomorrow,” he murmurs. His thumb gently brushes your forehead before his hand swoops back over your hair. Though your hands were still itching for another battle, your mind was weak to the calmness of his tone, like the slow tumble of waves on the shore, as he coaxes your head back to look at him more directly. “Let’s go home.”

This time you do not protest. Even if you did, what could you possibly say? 

Your aggression relaxes along with your shoulders, allowing you to give in to his request with a quick holstering of your twin guns. 

You return to headquarters and give your mission report to Jenna – pausing only to poke fun when she mentions how much Xavier’s reporting time has improved since the two of you became partners – then you start on the way home with the sun kissing at your back.

Laughter fills the air on the streets. Immediately, you feel warm inside. It was only thanks to the work you do every day that citizens could enjoy this peaceful dusk without fear of monsters scrambling to destroy the city like so many years ago. 

It’s rewarding to know you hold some small part in the safety of the city after almost dying in the catastrophe as a child. You breathed it in fully, letting joy fill your lungs as you savor the calm moment. The emotion is only highlighted by the fact that when you look to your side, you can see Xavier there, putting weight to the empty space left in the wake of your family’s death. 

Walking home together in the past was a random occurrence, happening whenever your busy schedules after missions aligned. As freshly cemented roommates, it was almost a given you’d walk home together now. Not just to the apartment complex, but to an actual shared home. 

This path you go along every day has become special in that time. It’s full of promises, the kind you could only wish for on snowy New Year's evenings as you tied red ribbons to the shrine gate and prayed for good things to happen in your life. Not a lot of those wishes came true but Xavier did. 

In that way, you were a fortunate person. 

It was only your guess if he felt the same. You want to ask him. Unlike when you’re fighting Wanderers, you’re not brave when it comes to Xavier - a part of you prefers to leave things between you unsaid. It’s safer that way as you can keep living in a beautiful world of your own illusions. 

Therefore, you’re unable to help yourself. Pinching the sleeve of his uniform, you tug on it gently to gain his attention; Xavier looks at you with glossy glazed eyes. He’s always so sluggish after missions. His steps slow and methodical, like a robot, as he barely manages to straighten his spine and raise his head.

“Chin up, Xavier. We’re almost there.”

“I’m exhausted,” he says. 

You don’t need to hear him say it to understand. You think you’ve become good at reading his body language by now. Donning a sympathetic smile, you shift your hand, aiming for a lower target, and entwine your fingers with his under the guise of leading him faster.

“My next solution is carrying you by the way.”

A smile cracks on his face, impossibly light as his gaze drifts to the hold you have on his hand. “I don’t think you could carry me.”

“You dare doubt me?” Truth be told, he was right. He was tall and muscular and much thicker under that uniform than he looked. He would probably crush you under his weight if you tried to lift him. Despite how improper it was to think, you wouldn’t mind if he wanted to place his weight on top of you in another way. You tick up the corner of your lips into a surprisingly innocent smile opposite of the images in your imagination as you flash your bicep to him. “I’m very strong.”

“I think it would make more sense if I carried you.”

“I can walk.”

“I don’t see why that matters,” he says with a yawn, and you smile.

“Are you sure you won’t drop me?”

“If it’s a choice between falling asleep and dropping you then I’ll definitely stay awake. Otherwise, you might end up carrying me after all,” he says. Xavier always manages to be unfailingly charming. Given the mystery of his past and the way he carries himself, you often question exactly what kind of upbringing he had. You almost ask but your interrogation doesn’t have the chance to plant seeds when he stops in front of you and kneels. 

You thought he was joking when he said he’d carry you home but that doesn’t stop you from wrapping your arms over his broad shoulders and letting him scoop your legs up around his solid waistline. 

His clasp on the back of your thighs makes you shiver. You feel like a touch-starved virgin that the simple strength of his hands over the thickness of your pants incited such a reaction out of you, so you bury your burning face against the back of his neck. 

“Are you alright?” he asks.

Xavier must feel your hair against his neck, and you use the fact he can’t see your face to your advantage as you nod against his nape.

“Just hungry.”

For his part, Xavier doesn’t question your sudden hunger. Instead, he asks what you’re in the mood for and starts to list the restaurants that you pass on the way to the apartment complex.

You lay your cheek against him, watching the many buildings pass you by until you point out one you don’t recognize, flashing with many signs about a grand opening.

“How about that one?” you ask.

Xavier chuckles, continuing on in his steps past the building in question. “It’s not that great.”

“How do you know?”

“I tried them out.”

You squeeze into his shoulders, pushing off of them in a childlike manner and an even more dramatic gasp. “Without me?”

“I was going to bring you something back, but they weren’t very tasty. I like your cooking a lot more.”

You know he can’t see you, but you puff out your cheeks anyway. You wrap your arms tightly around him again, willing your heart not to skip when his back tenses as your chest compresses against him.  

“Are you asking me to cook dinner for you? I’m quite exhausted after all that running around,” you tell him sarcastically. 

He accidentally makes you regret your teasing when he agrees with a compassionate offer, “I’ll cook for you today.”

Hearing the word cook from his mouth makes your stomach sour. If there’s one thing after all these months you learned, it’s that Xavier is a…creative cook to put it gently. Or rather, he has zero cooking ability if it involves electricity. You didn’t mind. The two of you make it work with you doing most of the cooking and him cleaning up after, at your own behest, because if he had his way, he’d be in the kitchen much more often. 

“On second thought, I’ll cook.”

“You still don’t trust me,” he says with a sigh. Guilt tingles through you. However, your continued survival outweighs the guilt that the memory of his puppy eyes can draw out of you. “I’ll handle the cold stuff, and I’ll leave the meat to you.”

“Deal,” you say, nuzzling your head against his neck. 

When you get home, the night pans out like it always does. The two of you take turns in the shower with dinner being cooked shortly after, and the human garbage disposal known as your roommate leaves very little work for you to do once all is said and done. 

You decide to start on the last of chores for today while Xavier washes the dishes. It’s routine to check the plants before going to bed as the many potted flowers were like your own children after you spent so many hours tending to them, finding the perfect ratio of nutrients and water to keep them thriving. 

It is also routine to hunt down the birds so lovingly named Fatso and Alarm Clock by the sleepy man of the house to give them some of the seeds and nuts you regularly brought home from the store. You told Xavier that happy birds would stop eating his strawberries when in reality you liked to spoil them. 

So, you spread out the seeds on the ground for them, leaving them there for later. 

“If you feed them, they’ll never leave.”

You can’t help the laugh that leaves you. As much as he complains about the birds, you think, if his constant curiosity about the birds’ day-to-day lives was anything to go by, that he’d miss the two fluffy creatures if they were to ever find new nesting grounds. You turn back to the balcony door with a cheeky grin. “I have experience with things that don’t leave after you feed them. You enjoyed dinner a little too much.”

It’s hard to see in the fading light but Xavier blushes and brings a shy grip to the back of his neck. “Last I checked you moved in with me.”

That silences you. There’s no denying his observation, and you fail to notice him getting closer until he reaches his hand out to help you up. You willingly reach out, hand sinking into his touch as he lifts you to your feet. 

The coolness of your palms touching slowly births a lingering warmth. The soft squeeze around your hand makes it hard to let him go but eventually you must. Otherwise, you might say things that are better kept to yourself as you walk back into the house and close the sliding door behind you. 

With a pounding heart, you retire to your room early.

This room is a little different from the master room at your old apartment. The wall color is a little different brighter and it’s smaller. Luckily, you made the space work pretty easily by migrating half your plushie collection into Xavier’s room, checking like a dutiful mother to make sure he was treating them right and placing them with love should they roll off his dresser.  Sighing, you change into slightly more comfortable clothes, choosing a random pair of soft shorts and a tank top to wear before climbing into bed. It’s ten when you finally let your eyes slip shut, and it's around eleven you feel someone touching you.

Your eyelids are surprisingly heavy; you can barely pry them open enough to see the wisp of grey-brown hair shadowing medium-blue eyes. You don’t protest as you feel his fingertips brush along your waist or when his knee digs into the mattress, sinking you towards his weight.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he wants. You raise your arm enough to let your fingertips greet the curve of his chin in silent acceptance. Slowly, you drop your hand and squeeze his bicep. Like a good little soldier, he follows the order to fall into the bed with you. 

The most comfortable position is to slot your arm on top of his as he hugs your waist, props his leg on top of yours, and spoons your back. There’s absolutely zero space between your lower halves; and if he notices how you, with a small amount of shame, subtly shift and push yourself back on him a little more, he doesn’t say as he lolls his head against the curve of your neck while his incredibly light exhaling on your skin comforts you after a long day. 

With a flutter of your eyelids, you slowly slip back into sleep with the happiness that comes with being roommates with your crush. 

It’s times like these that make you think maybe he loves you. It’s also times like these that make you forget that despite all of the endearing things about him and despite how much you care about him, you don’t truly know a lot about him.

Xavier has always been a man with a lot of secrets. You’ve known this since you first met him asleep in the forest. It’s true that you once accepted the fact you’d never learn all his secrets but that was before whatever this abnormal relationship that the two of you found yourself in. 

Even after living together for more than two months now, you still had no idea where he would go when he would sneak off in the middle of the night. You didn’t question where he goes anymore, you found that he wouldn’t give you a straight answer to save his life. You merely stayed up until you heard the sound of the door opening or the warped echo of air being sucked into a vacuum, indicating he teleported inside. 

So, when you wake up at two in the morning, finding yourself alone and the side of the bed where he laid mere hours ago already cold, you’re not surprised.

Getting out of bed, you slip on your slippers and drag your feet to the balcony. It’s a familiar situation when you collapse into the swing chair, with nothing but the cold and the chirping of the birds to keep you company until he undoubtedly returns with his body hosting a family of fresh wounds.

It’s incredibly frustrating because you love him and seeing him hurt, without you having been there to prevent it, drives you crazy. You wonder why he won’t tell you, and your heart sinks, as quickly as a stone cast in a lake, with the idea that maybe you were the only one thinking that your relationship meant more than it did. Because even after all this time, you still aren’t close to him in the way you want. 

Clenching your fists, you shove your eyes against them. It was all so infuriating when he ran off to fight Wanderers or whoever and left you all alone to overthink and worry about him like some helpless house plant. It was enough to make you want to cry as the strange foreboding sense of losing him begins to echo inside of you, making you nauseous.                                                                                 There’s only one way to get rid of this feeling. Taking in a deep breath, you settle to give him a piece of your mind about sneaking off so much and also to bite the bullet to confess your feelings. 

It was only a matter of waiting for him to actually return home and to get your heightened nerves to stop firing in every direction in the meantime. 

By the time you heard the door to the apartment creaking open, you’d nearly fallen asleep in the wicker swing chair. You swallow down the bitter taste of fear, ignoring the tumultuous waves it makes when it hits your stomach. You’d never get anywhere if you didn’t face him. 

Carefully, you hop up from your seat and make slow strides into the apartment. It’s still dark in the house; you hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights earlier. Yet Xavier carries a lightness around him, mostly imagined by yourself, that makes him easy to spot in the darkness. 

For a moment, things seem normal as he takes a few stiff steps forward. Suddenly, he falls forward, the white of his uniform nearly a blur with how fast he collapses onto the sofa, but it is nothing compared to the speed at which you rush to his side. 

You call his name, press two fingers to his throat, and let your eyes slip closed with a desperate concentration as you search for his pulse behind the blaring red of his collar. 

It’s a gradual pace, averaging twenty beats a minute and slowly rising. For anyone else, you’d immediately rush them to the hospital. For Xavier, that number is a relief. 

You hold your hand to your pounding heart, practicing deep measured inhales to calm it. It appears he fell asleep as soon as he entered the room, with only enough awareness to kick off his shoes at the door. 

It looks like your lecture will have to be postponed for another day. 

You’re thankful for all the training you had to take to become a hunter because it takes an enormous amount of effort to throw one of his arms over your shoulders and drag him to his bedroom. You make a mental note to never let him question your ability to carry him again as you sit him on the bed and shuffle off his uniform jacket, leaving him only in his pants. 

In a tender motion, you gently cup his face and examine him. Dirt cakes his face; and when you brush it away, there’s a small cut on his cheek. It hits you again just how reckless and secretive he can be, echoing with a bitter thought that he didn’t bring you again. The only bright spot is the little cut is his only injury this time. 

Laying him on his back, you leave for only a moment to get a warm washcloth and an adhesive from the bathroom. It’s a blue band-aid with a cartoonish pink bunny on it, something a kid would love and has probably been collecting dust in the drawer longer than you’ve been alive. 

It takes all the seriousness out of your body when you return, clean his face off, and place the colorful bandage on his cheek. It’s hard to believe this narcoleptic pretty boy was the strongest member of the Hunters Association. 

“I didn’t think when we moved in together I was going to become a babysitter,” you commented with a little huff and poke of his cheek. “You’re terrible at taking care of yourself. Can’t cook. Can’t stay awake. Can’t tell someone when you’re going out. I bet you didn’t even lock the door when you came in. …What if a Wanderer floated in after you and trampled all the flowers, or did you just not want to leave any for me tomorrow?”

You know your complaints are falling on deaf ears as he cuddles up to his pillow without a care in the world. But if you didn’t complain, you’d get depressed instead. Dropping to your knees, you sit on the floor and prop your elbow on the bed to get a better look at him. 

He looks so peaceful.

There’s no tension, no crease to his expression. It’d be easy to mistake him for a normal young man if it weren’t for the strong humming of his Evol tickling at the wall of your resonance.

“I’ll let you sleep, but you’re getting it in the morning! I expect answers. Otherwise, I won’t cook breakfast for you,” you attempt to sound threatening in your words with every poke to his cheek a not-so-silent promise to follow through. “I’ll take my missions with the new recruit all the ladies at work gossip about. And the next time I get a snack shipment, I’m letting Jeremiah have first pick!”

With one last prod to his face and no reaction otherwise, you stop your demands and sit back on your legs. 

Bit by bit, you feel your energy dissolving. It’s no use. It’s all empty threats. You’ll probably not cook for a few days, eat in front of him too, at least until he gives you those puppy eyes, and you’ll fold just like origami paper. You’ll still save him the snack you know he likes even if you allow Jeremiah first pick of the rest. And you’d never be interested in the new recruit or anyone else. 

Xavier can be distant and formal. For others, his hyper-independence was evident. Taking on missions alone and avoiding group settings is just the way Xavier’s personality works. He’s reliable and gets along with everyone at a surface level and he’s known to go out of his way to help others without seeking validation for it so it never ruffled any feathers when he goes off on his own or rejects an invitation to drink with the others after work. 

They didn’t see. They didn’t see how easy it was to care about him. They appreciate him but they weren’t aware of how intensely and passionately he could feel when he unfurls that independent nature. How he always quietly adjusts his dominant foot to point your direction whenever a Wanderer appears. How his voice drops and his touch becomes the smallest bit more graceful and careful when he sees you upset. How sweetly he looks when he sleeps.

It makes your resolve crumble and your heart squeeze, something only he can do without even being awake to know it. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” you mumble to him. 

As you lean closer, you easily ignore the stirring in your gut that tells you to stop. 

The bandage is a little rough against your lips as you seize the chance to kiss him. It’s a short and small thing, much more delicate than your prodding from earlier because you want to indulge the romantic in you. You want him to somehow sense the feelings cultivated in your heart over the past few months though impossible when he’s asleep.

You don’t let it last long. Instead, the desperate urge to feel his heat against you spurs you to rest your forehead against his cheek. It’s warm and soft, and the faint scent of pine trees of the no-hunt zone fills your nose. You savor being this close to him, allowing yourself to indulge in it until the heat on your skin starts to match his, and you finally let him have peace for the night.

With no need to remain in his room, you stand and pivot towards the door, wondering how you’ll manage to grasp any form of sleep tonight. However, you don’t make it two steps before there’s a tug at your arm.

You yelp as you’re pulled towards the bed while the shock has you stumbling forward into it. The hand leaving your arm in favor of grasping around your wrist stops you from falling completely but your knees have already buckled. You’re left nearly a head under him when he finally swings his legs over the side of the bed and shifts into a full sitting position. This position is oddly familiar. When you uncertainly force your eyes up to meet his face, this vulnerable angle becomes unmistakable.  

His voice is husked and rasped from sleep, sending a chill up your spine when paired with the swirling shadows darkening his blue eyes under his hooded lids and dark lashes. That’s the look of a predator, of the association’s strongest hunter, and you face the inkling realization that you’re the prey. 

Nervously, you begin to divert your eyes. He takes a page out of your own playbook and reaches under your chin to guide your sight back to him as you fight not to whimper at the pressure of his thumb pushing down as if he wants to part your lips. It isn’t until now that you notice how close you are to his lap and how another few inches would drop you to your knees.

“Why worry about Wanderers following me home when you’re so much scarier.”

“What do you mean?” 

Memory has never been your friend. This though is the first time you’ve forgotten how to breathe when his fingers completely close around your wrist. His hold is firm, preventing you from wringing your way out of his grasp, but it doesn’t hurt.

He might as well take that grasp and use it to squeeze your heart instead when he brings your hand to his face. You’re unsure what he’s planning; the awkwardness of the situation makes your fingers straighten and twitch away as he holds your hand closer to his face. Sensing your trepidation, he closes the last of the distance instead by tilting his head into your hand with the same affection as always as he lets your fingertip brush against the silly little bunny bandage. 

The familiarity of the motion puts your heart a little more at ease but not enough to bring your breathing back to you as he mumbles, “I don’t remember giving you permission to kiss me.”

Your lips part with a silent puff while your brows push forward, highlighting the confusion in your mind onto your face. He takes advantage of the moment to nuzzle your hand. It’s a notion you can’t appreciate as his words finally sink into your mind and reform into a horrifying conclusion.

“…You were awake the whole time.”

He chuckles so easily at the dry peep that echoes from you, the rivet of that warm sound collects in your palm and makes your face scalding hot. You didn’t face a burning heat like this even when fighting one of those flame dragons. All the while, Xavier was laughing at you…

“Not the whole time.”

With your head catching up, you find enough of yourself again to actually glare at him and smack his shoulder. “That’s not the point!”

With another display of strength, he locks your other wrist, pulls you up, and then snatches you into him. Luckily, you’re able to flatten your palms against his chest to brace yourself. His heart as well as his face is unnervingly calm compared to your own organ that’s currently orchestrating its escape from your chest, battering your ribcage even harder as you unconsciously stretch your fingers over his naked skin. 

You don’t like this. This bullying, which you only describe as such because you can’t think of a word more fitting for the way he’s treating you, is too one-sided. 

“It was on the cheek,” you argue with a steeled voice. You fake the confidence to stare him back down, choosing to trade your determination to confess to him tonight in exchange for preserving your pride. “It was friendly.”

To your satisfaction, your declaration of war makes him the one to pause this time. His eyes widen and there’s a quiver in those waves of blue that he hides by glancing down and away. 

“…Is that what it was?”

You nod. “I wasn’t…going to do anything else.”

Xavier smiles, shaking his head, and there’s a new determination in his eyes that causes your teeth to clench down on the inside of your cheek as he leans closer. 

“In that case, is it okay to return the favor?”

He doesn’t give you the time to answer. He’s already closing the distance, his dark lashes already fluttering, and his lips already puckering to kiss you as you’re squeezed flushed against him, only your palms stopping your chest from colliding with his. 

“Wait!”

Hearing your disapproval, he pauses, but that cheeky grin still doesn’t dissipate. 

“What's wrong?” he asks with a sigh. You’re sure it’s not a true question. “Am I not allowed to give you a friendly kiss as well.”

The implications make your stomach twist while your thighs squeeze together pathetically with the sudden throbbing of arousal that spikes through you as you tumble further and further into this rabbit’s trap.

“I—that’s!”

“So, you were misbehaving,” he concludes from your sheepishness. “I guess that means I need to punish you instead.” He breaks his hold around one of your wrists to ghost his fingertips along your cheek and down your neck until all you can do in response is breathe out a moan, much to his surprise given by the rise of his eyebrows and the slight dust of pink on his bewildered face. “…I didn’t think you were that sensitive there.”

Your mind swims with the traitorous thought of wanting to show him where you’re more sensitive dancing in your mind before you can sweep it away. When his fingers dance along your neck again, you whimper and hold in another moan.

“Don’t hold back on my account. You know my most sensitive spot after all, as hunting partners, it only makes sense for me to know yours, right?”

You can hardly think of a response to that. It’s true. You know his biggest weaknesses and as you come to terms with the situation you run your thumb over the plump inside of your thigh hesitantly. It takes you almost an entire minute to decide on what you want to say, and you don’t notice his hold on your wrist weakening.  

“My weakness—” 

Suddenly, your arm drops back to your side.

“I’m kidding,” Xavier states; the small smile he normally wears comes back to his face as you look up at him with wide eyes. “I was only curious as to what your reaction would be.”

The tension in the air wanes and buries itself in your heart. The embarrassment clings to every cell living in you, unshakeable as you try to keep a brave face. “You’re cruel.”

“Am I? You were the one touching me, all the while promising to run off with some rookie,” he reminds you. 

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t—you’re so frustrating,” you scream at him, and this is the first time he appears to take you seriously all night.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, with less teasing and more concern. He wraps an arm around your waist. His legs slot between yours, leaving your knees to collide with the plush of the bed as he hugs you tighter and tighter until you’re nearly seated in his lap. “Don’t be mad. I only thought—” 

“Xavier?”

“Did you really mean it then?” he redirects. He snakes his other arm around your waist, this time when he holds you it feels…weak, and his pursed lips and narrowed eyes hold back a troubled emotion. “That it was in a friendly way?”

Your breath hitches at the swirl of his thumbs nervously circling the small of your waist. Nervously, he waits for an answer you long lost in the rapids of the constantly changing tides of the last few minutes. 

“If you meant it…if you truly wanted to kiss me,” he pauses, trying to find his voice. The one to tell you that you’re all he thinks about. “Then you should have woken me up.” His face holds a serene glow that completely enraptures you as he looks up at you. “I wouldn’t have rejected you,” he swore.

He loved you so much it ached. Moving in together should have been enough to prove it. He guesses not; because when he thinks you want him back, you’re so hesitant to accept. Even now, you’re unable to respond. 

This cycle has become painful, even for someone as patient as himself, the wait when you’re this close to him is agonizing. So, he decides now to be the one to end this circle the two of you found yourself in with one decisive motion. 

He tests the waters, not knowing if he’ll swim or drown, but he has confidence in his ability to read your personality and actions as he cups the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss. 

Your mind empties immediately, your body on autopilot when it registers the warm, silky skin of his lips on yours. Closing your eyes, you willingly tumble and fall into the taste of him, chasing after it when he breaks away. 

“There. We’re even,” he says, but to you, that’s far from the truth. You’re far from even after all the heartache and sleepless nights he’s been putting you through, after all the push and pull that left you aching and wanting both in your heart and between your thighs. 

The self-satisfied smile on his face quickly fades as you grope his shoulders, digging your nails in like you’re afraid he’ll escape. Your knees press to the top of the bed as you plant yourself more onto his lap. He braces his hands on your hips to catch you as you run your hand into his hair and crane his head back, so he has to look you in the eye.

His ears pinken at your sudden brazenness, but it doesn’t reflect in his voice as he smiles at you. “Are you trying to get more?” 

“Am I being too greedy?” you ask. He chuckles at the jut of your lips and the pleading eyes before you press another demanding kiss to the corner of his lips. 

Xavier moans from his throat as he latches onto your jaw to redirect your kisses to his lips. Kissing him is nearly maddening, the twitch of his muscular thighs under your ass making your mind hazy. With one hard squeeze at your hips, he catches up to the zealousness of your kisses. 

His tongue pokes and prods at your mouth. However, he doesn’t need much permission to keep going as you open your mouth wider. His mind skips and lags at just how quickly your mouth overtakes the slick appendage. It leaves him more than a little out of breath and flustered with the rate your mouths keep parting and meeting, tongues desperately searching and licking the inside your mouths as if this is the first meal you’ve had in weeks.

You’re hungry to memorize each other despite having all the time in the world now to do just that. When the two of you finally indulged enough and earned enough satisfaction, you’re able to calm down and readjust the pace. 

“I think we’re both greedy,” he jokes about the both of you before sliding his tongue back into your mouth. This time he’s slower as he presses down on your tongue, causing your teeth to lightly graze over the top of his.

There are too many sensations going on for you to keep up. The way your breasts hug his hard chest has you feeling sensitive while the heat seeping from his tongue stroking in your mouth has your stomach bundled in tight knots that won’t know release until he’s inside of you. 

Dreams were nothing compared to this. Nights filled with nothing but inappropriate thoughts of him turn into nightmares at the slim chance of having to face them again should this go wrong. 

Impatiently, his fingers curve into the hump of your ass to anchor you and encourage you to grind on his lap, or rather grind against the hard tent brazenly making its presence known with each hurried roll of your hips.

You whine from the separation of your sexes when he begins to lift you up, but your complaints quickly die in your throat. They’re replaced by a squeal as he flips you and your back bounces on the mattress.  

Xavier climbs over you, his face flushed, breath ragged, and overall, he’s just absolutely beautiful to you. Reaching up, you cup his cheek and play with the ends of his hair, unable to recall the last time you’ve felt this high. 

“Xavier,” you whisper breathlessly as you swoop his bangs back to see more of his handsome face and save it to memory. “What are we?”

Xavier tilts his head, furrowing his brow at your question, and there’s a second where a ray of doubt breaks through the clouds of lust in his irises. “We’re…whatever you want to be.”

“I want to be with you,” you say. Those words tumble out more effortlessly than you ever thought. 

Xavier overlaps your hand with his, holding on tight as if to prove a point. “You are with me.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” he corrects. Then, he dazzles you as he always does, “I want you to tell me so there’s no mistake, and you can’t take it back later.”

You inwardly become embarrassed when it crosses your mind that this is the first time you’ve ever confessed to him without multiple drinks in your system. It’s too late to turn back now that you’ve crossed the Milky Way and landed on the other side. 

But why would you when you’re so close?

“I want to be with you always. Whenever and wherever you are. Whether that’s having fun together or fighting. I-I love you, and—”

“And I love you,” he answers. You’re not sure if you’re jealous or relieved that he can say those three words without hesitation.

“I don’t want anything to be between us. I don’t want any more secrets or hidden things. I’m tired of this. I just want to be real, more than partners or roommates or whatever other title that isn’t boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Okay,” Xavier agrees as easily as he agreed to be roommates with you in the first place. 

“Okay?”

“I want that too,” he agrees as he repositions himself on top of you and his lips curve into a small smirk, “girlfriend.”

You’re accustomed to the finicky organ known as your heart tightening with pain when you’re overwhelmed; this time when it skips a beat, it’s welcomed. Smiling, you gaze up at him as he releases a slow, strained breath. It’s validating to know he’s been just as nervous as you.

Everything suddenly becomes full force again when his knees move to either side of your legs while he pins your hands above your head in one tight fist. His teeth nip at your earlobe, and his free hand gropes at your breast, fingers outstretching to fully take it in his grasp. Wet kisses burn on your throat, each one firing off a rapid signal to arch your back. 

“Slow down,” you whine before cutting it off with a moan as he hits a particular delicate spot. The discovery spurs him on, like a pet with a new toy, and he bites your nape once again causing your hips to jerk. With a burning desire building in your stomach at every touch, you pitifully hug your thighs together to try to ease it. “I didn’t get a chance to absorb all that,” you tell him, mostly to get some time to catch up. It backfires wonderfully as he grips onto the bottom of your tank top.

“I have a better way to help you understand.”

The sheets shift with his movement, your lower half dipping towards him as if he holds his own gravitational field. He settles between your legs and strokes against you with one slow, languid rock. It instantly makes you throb. It’s painful how hard you clench over absolutely nothing, panties gathering the lust that’s dripping from you.  

You simultaneously hate and love him for causing this need that’s bubbling inside you. 

Large hands press your shirt further up your torso. “Arms up,” he demands softly, which you have no problem obeying, and he quickly lifts your shirt over your head.

He lowers his hands to hold at your waist, and they fall still on you as he takes in your naked skin. You’re not privy to his thoughts. The silence of the room feels defean-ing now that your needy gasps of air aren’t filling it.

He pauses, eyes taking you in as you raise your eyebrows at his hesitancy. Xavier smiles, mumbling out, “Just thinking where to start.”

Xavier smiles at you so tenderly. Everything about him is incredibly soft on first appearance. He has big blue puppy eyes, he prefers white, cozy clothes, and his voice is just as gentle as his appearance. Everything about him is soft except for his hands. 

Those are hardy and battle-honed, worn with calluses built up with every swing of the sword he’s taken since he was a child, enough of them to slay thousands of Wanderers over the years. 

They drag.

Oh, they drag so dangerously slow over your skin, dipping into the pudge of your stomach and highlighting a small circle in the warm, buzzing glow of his Evol. The rays shine gold over your flesh, shimmering brightly in the dark of the room. 

“Here,” he states before hunting down another spot on your torso. A beauty mark, like a beacon, earns the sharp eyes of a hunter. He zones in on the vulnerable location, creating a golden target. “Maybe here.”

You squirm with every mapped spot he creates. “Xavier.”

The residue of his power leaves your skin humming; you’re overly aware of each spot he highlights with his power. You like to think your senses would still be heightened regardless of this little game. After all, you’ve been wanting him to touch you forever.

Every night next to him felt like torture, being unable to touch him more than a hug when all you could feel on your back was his hard chest, his arm tight around your waist, and the outline of his cock against your ass as he sighed in your ear.

It runs through your head that he must have put more thought into touching you than you assumed as he continues to stripe lines over the top of your thighs right under your night shorts, making your breath heavy in your throat. You’re no longer sure if he’s marking you to tease you, to track what parts of your body he’s claimed for himself, or to simply make you laugh from the humming of his Evol tickling you like fuzzy static on an old tv screen. Even as he smiles at your shallow giggles, there’s no denying the aura of possession radiating from him that makes you antsy when he finally presses his finger to your sternum.

“Let’s start here,” he says followed by a soft hum as he tattoos a line straight between your breasts, leaving you highlighted in slowly fading graffiti.

“About time you decided,” you say with an playfully exaggerated roll of your eyes. He cocks his head at you with a sly smile.

“I can’t help if I want to touch all of you,” he murmurs. Any response you had ready dies when he licks the encircled zone of your shoulder then swiftly to the notch of your throat, drawing a moan out of you that you didn’t think you were capable of until you met him.

Tilting your head, you allow him more room to work as he kisses your chest. His warm tongue slips through the line he marked, his nose dragging against you as he litters your engorged skin with kisses. 

“More,” you beg. Who was he to keep you waiting any longer?

He slips a fingerpad over the tip of your nipple, gently pressing down and then rolling it. It does nothing to satiate you. Satisfaction keeps escaping your grasp, the goalpost of what’s enough moving further out of reach with every pinch and pull of your pebbling nipples. Chasing it makes you brash, and you give a hard push to the back of his head. 

Just as you want, he spoils you. He bites and nips the supple skin, drawing out soft pleas from your angelic lips. When he finally graces you with the slick, velvety lap of his tongue on your pert nipple, you mewl and arch. His lips are a little rough after being out all night, his hunger for you more palpable than ever as he gropes harder and sucks at your wet skin. 

Your aching pussy throbs with every brush of his clothed cock. Your patience drains more and more as you crave something to fill you. It isn’t until he switches sides and gently nips and suckles around your other teat that you realize he’s been fingerprinting you with his Evol, the polka dots slowly fade away each time he adjusts his hand to knead your breast.  

“You’re still being cruel,” you manage between moans. 

“I think I’m being very fair,” he reasons, recapturing your lips to silence your complaints, and it works as your mind keeps repeating when his tongue makes a temporary reservation back in the confines of your mouth. 

When he parts with you again, he cements it with a soft kiss then another. He keeps peppering them on you so fast that you almost miss the way his tongue darts over your bottom lip before his teeth bite down. 

Xavier sighs between his kisses, each one adding more pressure, turning from loving, adoration-filled into needy, heavy smooches.

“Wanted.”

Another kiss that leaves you whimpering.

“To.”

He fondles your chest again, alternating between rolling and pinching your sensitive, puffed nipple then grasping your bare tits in his hands, molding and kneading them.

“With you.”

With your thighs closing at his waist, you curve your back and meet the sloppy buck of his hips. There’s a rush of excitement leaking from you when his kisses trail back over your breasts, hitting the tiny ring of bite marks he seared on you before tracing across the targets of light decorating your belly. 

“So bad.”

Skin on fire, legs spread wide to accommodate his chest as he sinks lower to press wet kisses to your stomach, you call out to him. “Xavier, baby,” you whisper and brush his hair to get his attention. And does he give it to you when his eyes flick up to look at you from under the grey tuffs of his hair.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight. 

You bring your finger to your lips, not only to pry them open so you can speak but also because you need to bite on it. Otherwise, the surge of lust in you at the sight of his head so close to your cunt and the back of your thighs resting on his broad shoulders would cause you to cum right there. 

“My most sensitive spot…is my legs…”

It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, and he quirks his eyebrows up at you with false concern. He lowers his head to kiss your stomach again, this time noticeably closer to your mound. “Are you sure you want to tell me that in this situation? It isn’t wise for the prey to put themselves at a disadvantage.”

“I said no secrets,” you remind him, curling a finger to beckon him back up. Inwardly, you curse that he decides to bring your legs with him by keeping them propped up on his shoulders. Somehow, you manage to ignore his obvious teasing and poke at the cutesy adhesive still stuck on his face. “If you were listening, you should know you’re still in trouble for sneaking off so much without telling me.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he tells you, a layer of remorse riding his explanation. “I wasn’t expecting to go anywhere.”

Amused, you shake your head at how boyish he sounds as he defends himself while he pulls off that wide and pleading look to bolster his cause. Even with your amusement, you’re not willing to let him off just yet. Sternly, you tap his cheek again. 

“That’s not going to work this time.”

Pouting, Xavier holds onto your hand, stopping your playful jabs. “Please give me a chance to lighten my sentence, Miss Hunter, it was unintentional,” he negotiates with a kiss on your palm. The sincerity in his request eases your heart enough to allow him a little wiggle room, or perhaps it’s the slick trailing more between your folds. 

“You only got until morning to make a case for yourself.”

“I’ll make you forget by then.” He snatches up your ankle towards his face, a much more pleasant position than your last, as your muscles were starting to ache from having your knees pushed to your face. 

He caresses your ankle, pressing an airy kiss. The little bump of his nose against the ball of your ankle tickles, making a giggle cascade from your lips as you slide lower with the pull of your leg.  

“Silly,” he mumbles before shuffling off your shorts. Your underwear comes off with more of a fight, the stickiness soaked into it causing the dainty fabric to cling lewdly to your skin and outline to the shape of your cunt. 

You don’t often hear Xavier curse but that’s what happens along with his tongue rolling over his upper lip when he catches the image. He reaches out and his fingers twitch, threatening to curve against the spreading stain in your panties but he resists and hooks his fingers into the waistband. He takes his sweet time watching the doused material peeling from you with thin strands of cum sticking to it.

It takes him more effort than he’d like to admit to resist diving straight in. Instead, he keeps it slow, sensual, as much for his sake as yours as he skims his lips up your calf.

He does the same with your center, carefully pressing two fingers against you as he holds your leg up on his shoulder. His mouth stays on your inner thigh, but his eyes are entirely locked on his fingers and the way they effortlessly collect your cum and slip between your lips with barely a push. You can feel his breath shudder out against you before he forces it down with a bite of your thigh but that does nothing to hide the way his entire body tenses when his fingers slip from your clit all the way to your clenching hole. 

It does nothing good for your ego or your sanity to think how normally calm and collected Xavier is losing his composure just by touching you. How he’s so obviously turned on when you haven’t nearly returned as much as he’s been giving you. 

He presses his hands at the crook of your thighs, pushing your legs further apart, and quenches himself between your legs. His name leaves you in one low drawn-out sigh. Sure, you were baiting him when you told him your weakness, but you weren’t expecting him to abuse the knowledge so readily. 

He held your legs blood cuttingly tight to keep you from squirming away from his wriggling tongue, and by the moan that reverberates from his chest and the strong jerk against the mattress when your juices hit his tongue, you think he would only be satisfied if you crushed his head between your straining thighs. When he suckles your clit; when his voice, muffled, hits your pussy; when his biceps tighten around your legs as if encouraging you to do so, and when his eyes meet yours with a silent demand, you know that’s exactly what he wants.

At the plunging of his fingers in you, you break down, catch his head in a vice-like grip, and push him into you. Your heart flutters and the remaining butterflies in your stomach migrate away at the growl he lets out. Your walls happily clench around those thick fingers, your dripping hole making it easy and smooth work to pump in and out of you. You’re not sure when he decides he would rather feel your muscle tightening around his tongue instead, but you can only respond with the tilt of your head back into the sheets and the stroke of your heel on his bare back when it happens. 

The only thing better is his palm grinding down on your clit, alternating between slow rotations and rough sporadic grinding that has your toes curling and your eyes glossing with the buildup of tears.

“You’re too loud,” he comments yet he doesn’t stop, in fact, he presses down harder, making you whine. “You’re going to wake the neighbors.”

“Since when have you cared what the neighbors think?” you barely manage to whimper out. 

“I’m not worried about them. I just don’t want anyone else to hear what only I should,” he remarks, lapping up the juices spilling down your legs.

His confession is a surprise to you. You never took him to be so possessive. But if that possessiveness is what kept his tongue swirling on your swollen clit and an intense moan escaping your lips then you didn’t mind. 

However…

His fingers weren’t enough anymore. 

Choosing to surprise him, you decide to turn the tables on him. You jerk your legs, catching him off guard but not enough to tip him over. He looks at you with concern. It doesn’t stop you from trying again with extra force this time until you can weaken his grasp and force him down on his back. 

Having the world’s strongest hunter under you was only something you could dream of—first as a rival and now as a lover. The adrenaline has you tunnel-visioned as you straddle his stomach, your soaked cunt making a waterboard out of his abs, which Xavier has also picked up on if the dusky pink on his cheeks is anything to go by.

You grab his hands, gripping tight to regain his attention. Xavier looks taken back especially when your fingers interlock his and pin them back. Whether he’s shocked or curious you don’t know, and you also don’t ask to borrow his power. 

“You’ve been having too much fun,” you tell him as you check to make sure your finger is sufficiently coated with light. “For my turn, I’ll attack here and here,” you whisper, marking off his chest and drawing a line across his neck.

There’s a hint of worry finally when he sees you’re aiming for his weak spot. “If you’re trying to teach me the best spot to kill Wanderers, I already know.”

“More like the best spots to defeat a Xavier,” you remark, flattening your palm over his heart, finding your own thumping when you verify that you finally managed to raise his heart rate to the levels of a normal human.

“You’re pretty forward today.” Xavier reaches out to hold your hips and cocks his head at you with an inquisitive glance. “Are you always this easy to excite or is it because of me?” 

You feel your face heat at his question. As if he didn’t already know the answer. No one else could make you like this. Needy. Shy. Aroused. Flustered. Confused. Infatuated and in love more than you’ve ever been. 

Your eyes soften. “And if I said it was you?”

“Then, you can use me all you want,” he confesses and gently coaxes you back to sit on his hard cock. You smoothly slide your hands to his shoulders, rotating loving strokes into his fair skin before you stop to free his cock from his pants.

It springs readily into your palm, so responsive. You reward him by letting him have a little taste of you. He tries to hide the hitch of his breath as if he could hide any reaction from you right now. It’s so hard to get him to react to anything, and your brain won’t let you miss a single moment as you sit back onto his lap and grind.

His cock slides between your lips, so big that you can feel it stroking you fully, his swollen, dribbling head making you whimper whenever it bumps your clit. 

“You, you’re so—” he begins, his eyes flitting from the gentle shake of your tits to his cock glistening between your folds, but he loses his voice to a low whimper when you increase your pace. It’s not on purpose but you can’t help yourself; you’re aching for him just as much as he is for you. “Hah, please...” 

His cock is leaking onto him with each sleek thrust, a little pool of precum glistening on his belly as your hips buck. It makes your stomach twist and your insides twitch to see him so excited for you.

“Not yet,” you tell him, brushing fingers across the length of his throat. His mouth parts with a croak that plasters a crooked smile on your face.

His eyebrows knit, and he frowns as you decide to tease him a little by slowing your strokes while your nails continue to follow the thick vein protruding from his neck as he desperately holds down his whines. 

“And you call me the cruel one.”

He was gorgeous under you. Beautifully flushed and sheened with sweat. His lips were so close to quivering each time his swollen head was swallowed back under your heat. It’s strange how his pitiful expression actually excites you, leaving you wetter and funneling this cycle of him repeatedly scrunching his face before relaxing it with a moan. 

“Please,” he asks again, this time more politely, pleadingly, and downright cutely. He knows what he’s doing because you decide to take pity on him when he gazes at you. “Please let me have you?”

It takes only a second for you to reposition yourself and hover over him. There’s a split hesitation when it registers that you’re actually going to have sex with him and how large he actually is with his cock standing tall and the tip kissing at your entrance.  You press downward anyway.

The stretch is both painful and pleasurable, straining your nerves as you lower. The wince on your face is accompanied by a hiss on your lips. However, Xavier is there again to catch you.

“Let’s take our time,” he instructs.

You nod, slowly thrusting halfway onto him. Each rise and fall of your hips coating him with your cream little by little makes it a bit easier to sheath him each bounce. 

“Good girl,” he whispers soothingly. Face constricting, he bites down on his lip to hold in a weak groan. It’s not your fault that the praise made your walls flutter and tighten.

When you finally suck him in completely, your eyes roll. 

“There you go,” he continues. He slides his hand into one of yours, encouraging you to hold onto it as you slowly and pointedly follow the curve of his cock, “Just like that,” he rasps out.    As you take him in fully, your pussy reaching his lap and pushing against his balls, you find it hard to concentrate on the exact words leaving him.

You take a minute to sit with him fully sheathed inside of you, allowing your stretched core to get more accustomed to his cock and also for the high of joining with him to cool off. Otherwise, you’d lose control.

You feel so full. It’s a wonderful sensation, and the pleasure increases tenfold when you lift your hips then have him stretch you again.

Rubbing your fingertips into the back of his palm, you lift and slam back onto him again, causing a ragged groan from you both that ricochets off the walls of the room. It isn’t until now that you recognize how bad you’ve been needing this.

Needed him. 

You’re still nowhere near understanding why this need is inside of you. Anyone can give you pleasure, and he’s not the first, but nothing quite matched the warmth overtaking you when his cock pistons and rubs against your nerves as you ride him. 

The thought that Xavier was right about fate being written in the stars barely breaks through the thick fog of arousal clouding your brain. The heat spurs you to bounce harder to meet his jerking thrusts. 

He sighs under you; the pressure on his lower half increases while your eyesight blurs and your head angles back. You’ll both be each other’s undoing at this rate, he thinks, as he watches the beads of sweat accumulating in little shiny droplets on your forehead and on your bouncing chest in a light sheen.

Chasing that desire to see you undone, he pulls you to a halt, burying himself deep inside of you, before pressing his hand to your mound, brushing past the patch of damp hair to zone in on your sticky, swollen clit. 

The instant whine of his name makes him dizzy. Centuries have gone by, and he’s never heard you say his name with such wanton desperation nor seen you grind onto him, stirring his cock in you as if your sanity depended on it.  

His certainly depended on you. Always has especially in the many decades he thought he’d never see you again. That need is even clearer from how sensitive yet eager his cock is to you squeezing around it as you shudder on top of him while keeping an unbearably tight hold on his hand. Your movements come to a near stop except for the occasional rut to prolong the rush of your orgasm. 

The sight of you breaking down on top of him threatens to make his eyes roll back as he squeezes onto your legs for grounding. Your strangled gasp followed by your muscles relaxing tells him that you’re coming down.  

“I take it you’ve finished,” Xavier says with a smirk, and you only have half the mind to swat at his chest like a lazy cat. Your legs burn, your chest unable to fill with enough oxygen to catch your breath. You think you’ll skip the gym tomorrow but Xavier has other plans.

“I’m not finished,” he reminds you. 

You look down at Xavier; you’d been so busy finding your own pleasure, you didn’t realize he hadn’t cum yet. You feel a lingering guilt but he swiftly takes the situation into his own hands.

You’re still too sensitive to fight back as he slides his cock out of you with a wet pop. It takes two swift movements for him to lift you off of him and roll you onto your stomach.

Your chest feels restricted, tight to the mattress as he presses on top of you, his grey-brown hair rubbing your shoulder as he cuddles your back. It’s an affectionate notion, distracting from the pressure in your lower half as he slides off the last of his clothes and thrusts his cock back inside of you. 

You thought you were filled to the brim the first time, yet this angle was different. It felt much tighter, and the slightest shift of his hips had you muffling moans into your arms. 

“I want to hear you,” he sweetly requests, yanking on your hips to raise your ass higher and pull you further away from the muffling effects of the bed. Your fracturing mewls mix into his grunts, both sounds washing out the sloppy, wet paps of his cock pounding into you. 

His hand swoops down your bending back in one long soothing stroke before his head collapses onto you. His grunts are loud, tumbling right into your ear along with the slapping sound of his hips meeting your ass. Your legs feel like jelly, and the rest of your body becomes weightless as your mind only focuses on his cock recklessly burning its way through you.

Xavier’s breath rolls against your back along with his forehead as he buries you under his weight; his grip on your thighs tightens to an unbearable degree, leaving you to wonder if you’ll have marks in the morning. 

You don’t really care if he does when he moans your name and heat fills you, spreading with each sporadic thrust until he finally bottoms out inside you one last time and holds until he completely empties. 

Taking his time to enjoy the sensation, he waits before pulling out of you, making you whimper with the sudden void. Shakily, you collapse back into the sheets and flip onto your back with a sigh. His eyes are still half-lidded as he watches you; he chews briefly on his bottom lip, reminding you of the look in his eyes earlier. 

“Xavier,” you question but he silences you with a kiss, which you tiredly return. His fingertips slide down from your knee to your thigh, and he teases your opening, the mixture of cum making it easy for him to stroke your still spasming pussy. 

Xavier sighs against your lips before moving his kisses to the swoop of your neck. “You’re so beautiful and all mine.”

Your mouth parts with a dry moan as he slides thick fingers over your clit. It starts to ache from his touch but it’s hard to deny him, even as he tortures you with his methodic and precise rotations over the bead.

His name is on your mouth, each syllable heavy on your tongue. You leave garbled gasps in his mouth as he makes out with you while your hand draws down his chest, attempting to make a mental map of every twitching muscle and healed wound on the way down.

Your heart jumps with the twitch of his cock when you wrap your hand around it. There’s going to be no trouble getting him to rebound, you think. He’s already thickening again with the warm strokes of your hand and tracing of your fingers over the slowly beating vein lining the underside of his shaft. 

Xavier doesn’t even let you finish exciting him before he rolls back on top of you and settles his head between your breasts. Between all the cum in between your legs and his half-hard cock, it isn’t as mind-numbing to have him inside you. What is different is to feel him twitching and growing inside you with his renewed thrusts. 

You’re hiccupping by the time he pushes your legs back and starts to hit deep inside of you, leaving the corner of your eyes tearing. You’re overwhelmed with everything. The uncharacteristic amount of energy he possesses as his hips snap into you. How each powerful rock leaves tingles aftershock-ing inside you, ruining your chances to recover before he does it again. The heavy scent of sex mixed with pine overwhelms your nose. His sweaty chest blocks out any light in the room, sealing any notion that you can be distracted by anything other than him as he pushes up your knee towards your chest.

You’re quickly working up to your second orgasm; the painful cramping in your foot tells you it’ll be bigger than the last. You’re right. When you come undone again, it’s with a shrill sob. You’re too out of it to even register when he finishes until he starts kissing your neck again.

He’s still inside you, you realize once your mind finally lands back on earth. His cock is resting in the heat inside you, waiting for him to work the two of you back up again. You know that’s the goal when his thumb gently brushes over one of your nipples again. Your sore insides constrict and strain. You don’t think you could survive a third round. 

“Xavier, please, no more.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice dry and husky in your ear as he kisses under it. 

“Too much,” you tell him, pushing on his chest to make some space between the two of you.  

“I didn’t catch that,” he coos defiantly. When he notices that you’re being serious, he obediently pulls out of you. His kisses become smoother as he pecks your lips. “What’s wrong? Is it aching?”

You nod then puff your cheeks in frustration when you see the amusement on his face.

“It’s not funny!” you say, holding onto that angry, childish pout until his smile turns sympathetic. 

“You’re right,” he agrees and shifts off you. Quickly, he locates his briefs on the corner of the bed. He steps out of bed and pulls them on. To your surprise, he leaves you, alone and cold.  

“Where are you going?”

Xavier disappears without answering you and only the sound of running water gives you any sort of hint of where he might’ve gone. When he returns, it’s with a rag dangled in his hand. 

“A boyfriend should help clean his girlfriend up after times like this,” he explains and leans over you; he presses the wet cloth between your legs; the rag is incredibly soothing on your bloated skin. It’s a blessing to your sore muscles as he starts to massage and clean you. “It feels better already, doesn’t it?”

“I guess,” you answer pitifully, grumbling a bit because the look on his face still seems like he’s teasing about your neediness. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s my fault you’re a little sore.” He’s definitely taunting you, but you don’t have the energy to fight about it. “All done,” he remarks, tossing the rag to a forgotten section of the dresser. He carefully climbs back on top of you, waiting for the moment your hand finds his bicep to guide him down next to you. 

It isn’t the first time he’s been this affectionate, and it won’t be the last time. However, this time feels more special than any time you’ve slept together, and not just because you can feel the stickiness of his sex-clad skin against your naked body. Well, that’s part of the reason.

“Something on your mind?”

“Nothing. I’m really happy,” you explain. 

“If it really makes you that happy, maybe we should do it more often,” he offers, and you pinch his unwounded cheek to punish him. Jumping back, he knocks your hand away and caresses his wounded face. “I’ll need another bandage if you keep doing that,” he complains weakly. 

“You only have yourself to blame!”

Xavier sighs. “You’re always right,” he concedes, more so that he can cuddle you without fighting rather than actually agreeing with you, you fear. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“Are you really doubting your boyfriend?” he asks. Heartbeat skipped, you clamp your mouth shut as he unfolds the blankets over the two of you. 

It’s finally settling back into your mind that the two of you are a couple now. “I’m still…not used to it yet with you being that.”

“You will get used to it the longer we’re together. The same as I will.” Xavier sighs, happily so. “Although, we might run into the same problem again.”

You blink at him. “Why?”

Thoughtful, Xavier hums then explains, “First comes love then comes marriage as they say.”

He catches you off-guard once more. As always, Xavier is forever forging on ahead with little regard for convention. “Aren’t you thinking too far ahead?”

“Maybe,” he agrees but there’s no drop in his confidence as he smiles at you and draws his hand over your hairline. “But I loved you since we met.”

“Xavier, please,” you beg, finding your favorite place to hide your flustered face in the crook of his elbow. 

He can’t help but laugh at you as he curls his arm around you. “Especially that,” he confesses and places one more kiss on the top of your head before inviting you to go to sleep. 

You do, falling asleep against his chest less than thirty minutes later. For him, sleep is elusive for once as he mulls over the day’s events.

The word girlfriend on his tongue is sweet. The idea itself burns wonderfully in his chest, but it isn’t enough. He knows he still needs to wait a bit longer, take his time, your bashful response to his prodding was enough to tell him that it isn’t time yet. It’s hard not to rush when this is the closest he’s ever been to the one thing he truly wants. 

Xavier guesses he’ll still have to rely on his dreams for a little while longer. It’s okay, he tells himself, it’ll work out this time. He’ll find a place to settle with you and have a quiet life, a place where he can see stars. 

And this lifetime, when he asks you to marry him, he hopes you’ll say yes.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Innocent Possession

—

Time Written - 11:52 p.m.

Arkham Knight/fem!reader smut

Tags: Smut, possessive, breeding/innocence kink. Jason might be a meanie. (Not Proofread. Have to work on a Saturday AND I BROKE MY NAIL 🫠)

This man is such a slut it’s not even funny anymore. LOOK AT THAT.👇 THIS WAS INSPIRED BY THAT 👆

—

His lush, heavy breathing fans along your exposed, maroon muddled neck. Sharp teeth dimpling your skin in harsh punctures, not enough to draw blood quite yet.

Hands that once cradled your neck like porcelain art in the distance of the past, now grasped your throat like a damn vice, pairing with his grip on your shoulder to force you back against him with each deep, aching thrust.

One of the major accomplishments of his new identity, his new life, was to find the innocence of his past. The highlight of his life for many years was brought to him, bound and gagged as Gotham was in the midst of evacuation. Your clothes were torn and rustled from aggressive attempts to subdue you, enough to leave bruises along your supple, upper arms as you thrashed and screamed.

Now those bastards of men lay dead outside the hall. Scattered corpses slumped along the floors, dreadfully bland decor that meant nothing to the Knight that holstered his gun after his short pursuit.

Your first greeting from the armored man was terrifyingly quiet, towering over you like a beast after approaching where you cowered.

His hands grasp hold of his helmet before you could beg for your life, only trying to make it towards the Evac buses before you were hauled off by those bastards. All words died on your tongue when steel cut blue eyes meet yours, brows faintly furrowed, his jaw taunt with incredibly strong tension.

You’re his ex, but not by choice. None of this was by choice. He vanished for a year, only to be presumed dead the next.

You never hated him enough to put that label on him. Any attempt to begin your list of a million questions abruptly halts before it even began, as his lips instantly assault yours.

“That’s a good girl. My fucked out little whore.” He grunts, squeezing your hips closer to his pelvis, bullying his fat cock deeper into your tight walls.

The ropes that kept you bound now uselessly dangled from your wrists like cheap bracelets, the skin of your knuckles lightening as you helplessly plant them along the wall. Skin grew sticky with milky cum in between both your bodies, loud and wet, seeping down in between your bare thighs.

Watching and feeling your juices dampen the front of his red tactical pants was a punishment in itself, one he was feeling kind enough to save for later.

Maybe fucking your mouth would make for good punishment, listening to you choke as he grinds against your face, a pool of your combined mess seeping along your dirty knees on the ground.

“You better hope I never learn if any other guy fucked what’s mine, Princess,” He huffs against your kiss bruised lips, barely taking breaks to let you breathe. “Woulda’ rather had you cryin’ on fuckin’ toys than another man.”

Your whimper sounded like a cry, making Jason believe he could do so here right now, in this dingy room, underneath a dusty headlight. He hovers more over your back, tilting your head just enough to crash his lips against yours.

Feverishly responding to such a heavy, messy kiss, you moan fully against his rough, scar lined lips, amplifying when his tongue promptly invades. He licks with feverish hunger as a hand slips under your waist, huffing at your jolt at the sudden, angry assault on your nub, forcing your walls to deliciously clench towards a third orgasm.

The sounds he could pull from his sweet girl never ceases to amaze him. Even before his death, you were nothing but kind, the epitome of polite and heartwarming sweetness. What the hell were you thinking, choosing to date a guy like him?

Doesn’t matter if he died. No man is ever gonna take what’s been his for a very, very long time.

You won’t have to tell him now, but he’ll know. He has the capability to learn all your deepest secrets, knowing he could drag them out of you so easily.

“You miss me, pretty girl?” His hot rasp rumbles richly along the shell of your ear, sparking an uproar of your over sensitive nerves.

“You miss cryin’ on my dick, Princess? Missed how good it made you feel, how perfect you’d behave just to get bred? Tell me,” he grunts after relinquishing from the kiss. “Tell me you did. Say it loud, tell me you missed me.”

“I did-“ You spew out from quivering lips, ripples of tears trailing down your cheeks.

“I did, Jay. M-Missed you so much—“

Your voice draws out an empty whine towards your last word, hearing the collision of hot skin get louder as he gets harsher, brutal, eagerly desperate to make up for all the time he’s lost.

His sweet, innocent girl resorted to a jittery, babbling fleshlight. You could say anything he wanted, his guarded ego crumbling from the truth laced in your words.

You missed him, grieved for him, loved him. Yet, all he saw you as right now is his babbling whore, his whining little baby who never got used to the size of him driving deep into your cunt.

Honestly, he hopes you never will.

Your front further gets pressed flat against the wall, hot skin shivering from the harshness of the cold surface. Thick, precisely detailed armor digs deep into your back when he leans over you, keeping his persistent grip along your jaw, keeping you suspended just enough to breathe when he fucks you.

“S’been hell without ya, sweetheart,” He lowers his tone, whispering with a kiss of taunt as he rocks himself against your plush ass, keeping you cock drunk per his amusement.

“My baby wanna prove how much she missed me?” He cooes along your ear, smirking sadistically to your complete unawareness. “My baby wanna have a baby? She wanna have her pussy filled to prove she always loved me?”

You whine out ‘yes’ over and over, your back arching heavily from his relentless pace. The more space you involuntarily create, the closer Jason leans into you, the harder the plating digs into your back. The harsher the head of his cock endlessly strikes your cervix, making you just about lose it.

A series of curses spewed from your lips, resulting in three thick fingers shoved into your mouth, tasting yourself prior when he assaulted your soaked core.

“Language, babygirl,” Jason sneers against your cheek, despising the foul words that left those pretty lips. “Don’t badmouth me like a cheap whore. You’re my good girl. Fucking act like it.”

His other hand promptly pressed against your abdomen, forcing your lower half closer towards his waist. With his overwhelming free reign on your body, Jason bullies your sore, abused pussy with a series of sharp slaps, your clit stinging from repeated impacts.

You jolt out, sobbing out a series of apologies laced in short begs in the midst of various squeals.

In another life, he was your gentle giant. Now, he was a monster lusting after much more than blood. Jason was a simple man; wanting nothing more than the death of his mentor, and his ex’s warm cunt until he’s fully satisfied.

You whine out something that sounded like a mix between a cry and a moan. He clicks his tongue, tilting your head back just a little more while halting his hand, catching sight of those teary, bubbly eyes and quivering lip.

“Speak up, baby.”

“I-I’m sorry!” You hiccup, your nails scraping along the wall from overstimulation.

“I’m sorry Ja-Jason, please—“

You stumble over words. A pure miracle over how flustered you were to say your desire after being his sex doll.

“Please what?” He demands, losing what patience he never had.

“A baby,” you whine out, purposely leaning into his palm, fluttering your teary lashes. “Give me your baby, Jason. I want it. Please.”

His brows raise in surprise, slowly rocking his hips whilst holding back a grunt. Yes, he said it, desiring it, but hearing you beg for this. To ruin your beautiful body with his tainted seed.

“M’Not gonna stop, y’know. Even when it takes.” His voice dribbled with lustful possession while his hips stutter back into an uproar, nibbling along your lobe with sharp teeth. “That what you want? You ready for that?”

You moan out an easy agreement with more eagerness than before, allowing your body to relax against his chest.

“Y’hear me, Princess?” Jason braced a hand along the wall, clutching hold of your hand in his grasp, keeping your fingers safe in his fist. “I’m gonna make you a mama by the end of tonight.”

The Bats can wait, for now. Once he’s dead, once he’s been dealt with, then he’ll have much more opportunity to celebrate.

[reflectionsofacreator]

“You know, it’s generally not the best idea to sneak up on a vigilante. Let alone someone like me,” Red Hood drawled as he rest his hand on his gun holster. 

The floating teenager chuckled at him, and it sounded tired. “Yeah, I’m not known for ‘em, sorry.” 

He was about the same age as the girl with the undercut, maybe around seventeen to nineteen, and the dark bags on his pale cheeks were highlighted by the glowing toxic green eyes that stared straight at him. A fringe of white hair floated around his head like it was moving through water, just barely hiding how his ears swept up into a point and when he grinned at Jason, all his teeth were pointed. He was wearing a black body suit that Nightwing would be jealous of, with white accents that highlighted his lean, masculine frame. 

“You with them?” Hood asked, and jerked his chin in the direction of the van. 

“My sisters, yeah,” the guy said with a shrug. The motion seemed a bit wrong somehow, but Jason couldn’t figure out why. “Sorry, I know I should have better manners than this, but things’ve been… uh. Bad. I meant to bring you a gift and ask if they -- if we could stay here, but uhm…” 

“A gift.” Red Hood stated, and didn’t move save to cock his head curiously to the side. 

Green Eyes rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and lifted up his other hand in a half shrug. “Sorry, I don’t really have much to offer, and I’m so sorry about messing up the vibes of your haunt. You probably felt us for hours, huh.” 

He didn’t react to that, save to let his considering noise drag through his vocoder and render it a staticky, low pitched hum. It unnerved a lot of people, but surprisingly the teen only winced and didn’t look scared. 

“Yeahhhh I was kind of afraid of that,” he huffed. “Okay. My name’s Phantom. I promise I’m not trying to mess with your haunt, I’m just… trying to keep an eye on my sisters after everything that happened. Keep em safe, you know? I swear they won’t get into trouble, we just need a place to live.” 

“What about you? You going to get into trouble?” Hood asked and shifted his stance to be about ten percent less threatening. It worked, because Phantom brightened, literally his eyes flared, and he looked a bit more at ease. 

“Me? Naw, I’m just going to haunt my sisters and that’s it. Won’t get into trouble, I promise.” 

“The fuck you mean, haunt your sisters? You some type of ghost or something?” Hood huffed. 

Phantom winced. 

“The fuck.” 

-dry wine rebirth, ch 1

Summary

Learning that the new family of maybe-metas had their dead brother for a ghostly protector was not on Red Hood's bingo sheet, and Jason getting roped into a date with one of the sisters was even less on that damn thing. But something's off with the Nightingales, they're running from something, hiding, and it was the same thing that killed their brother, Jason's sure of it - and Phantom's ominous warning that he might be next is getting under his skin.

Hm. Hm. Yeah no, I don't have a defense for this. I got sucked into this niche little crossover. I dunno how much brainspace this is gonna eat, but have what I've gotten so far.

[brainddeadd]

Halloween Party

The New Jersey Devils' Halloween party was destined to be anything but normal. You knew that from the moment you walked into the venue—a rented-out lounge decked with fake cobwebs, jack-o-lanterns, and strobe lights—only to be tackled by a very enthusiastic Jack Hughes in full Spider-Man gear.

“Y/N!” Jack yells, wrapping you in a bear hug and lifting you off the ground. “You made it!”

“Put me down, Spidey,” you laugh, squirming in his grip.

Jack grins under his mask but finally sets you down, brushing invisible dust off your costume. “What even are you supposed to be?” he asks, squinting at your outfit.

“I’m a vampire,” you say, flashing the plastic fangs you barely managed to keep in.

“Cute.” Jack winks, slinging an arm around your shoulder just as Nico Hischier—dressed as a very convincing pirate—walks up, giving both of you a fond, exasperated look.

The lounge is packed with players, staff, and their partners—everyone dressed to the nines in goofy, spooky, or downright ridiculous costumes. Luke Hughes stands by the snack table, inspecting a bowl of candy with the kind of concentration you usually only see him use on the ice. He’s rocking a cowboy hat, boots, and a vest that’s way too small for his frame.

Dawson Mercer, meanwhile, has gone all-in with a werewolf costume, complete with fluffy ears and a tail that keeps smacking people as he walks by.

“I swear to God, Dawson,” you mutter, swatting at the tail when it brushes your arm again. “Control that thing.”

“It has a mind of its own!” Dawson defends himself with a mischievous grin.

As the night progresses, the chaos only multiplies.

Nico keeps trying to convince everyone to join him for a game of beer pong, insisting that pirates have an unfair advantage because they’re “naturally gifted at throwing things.” You’re not entirely sure that’s historically accurate, but no one argues with him.

Jack somehow convinces half the team to start a limbo competition—using a hockey stick, of course. Luke crushes it, his height somehow not being a disadvantage for once, though he nearly trips over his boots at the end.

Dawson, in typical Dawson fashion, sneaks up behind you at one point with a fake severed hand, pressing it to your shoulder.

You jump and swat him again. “You’re asking for a punch, Mercer.”

“Worth it,” he laughs, scampering off before you can retaliate.

The highlight of the night is, without a doubt, the costume contest.

You watch as Nico steps onto the makeshift stage, adjusting his pirate hat dramatically. “Arr, mateys,” he says, clearly enjoying himself way too much. “Who dares challenge the captain?”

Jack boos from the crowd. “Your hat’s crooked, Captain Fraud!”

“At least I didn’t dress as Spider-Man for the third year in a row!” Nico fires back, making everyone roar with laughter.

Luke takes the stage next, tipping his cowboy hat. He pulls out a toy gun from his holster and blows on the barrel dramatically, earning a mix of cheers and teasing catcalls from the crowd.

When it’s your turn, the boys start cheering before you even reach the stage.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” Jack chants, getting the whole room to join in.

You roll your eyes but strike a dramatic vampire pose, hissing playfully at the crowd. Nico, Jack, Luke, and Dawson lose it, clapping like you’ve just scored the winning goal in a playoff game.

“Best costume ever,” Dawson declares loudly, like a proud big brother.

After the contest wraps up (Nico wins because, as Jack puts it, “the pirate hat has plot armor”), the team settles into smaller groups, chatting and dancing to the Halloween playlist someone threw together.

Jack stays glued to your side for most of the night, making sure no one gives you too much grief—though he’s not above throwing in a little teasing himself. “You’re lucky you have us,” he jokes. “Otherwise, these guys would eat you alive.”

Nico walks by, overhearing. “We’re protecting you from them,” he says, tilting his head toward the crowd of rowdy teammates. “Not the other way around.”

You laugh, but you know it’s true. These boys are chaos incarnate, but they’re also fiercely protective. And if that means surviving a Halloween party filled with ridiculous costumes, bad jokes, and limbo competitions—well, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The night winds down with Jack flopping onto the couch beside you, half-asleep but still grinning like a kid. “You have fun, Y/N?”

You smile, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Yeah. Thanks for dragging me here.”

Jack gives your shoulder a gentle nudge. “Anytime, little sis.”

Nico, Luke, and Dawson join you shortly after, each collapsing into the nearest seat. The five of you sit there, surrounded by the aftermath of the party—empty cups, candy wrappers, and a whole lot of memories.

And as you glance around at your chaotic, overprotective teammates, you realize there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

[petit-bunbun]

sorry,,, DAY 7 is late, i didn't manage to make another decent illustratiuons.. i just wanted to used that day to show off my fucked up little project. But it's been making ma anxious, because They're bordering on OCs in it. If anyone it familliar with the Candela Obscura univers, from critical role. this is it. Matt, Frank and the rest of the defenders (from the netflix adaptations) are Candela obscura members. it's all still ongoing and a rough sketch. but it's really dear to me. [image ID : the first image is a colored digital reference drawing of Matt Murdock. There's a full body of him standing up, a hand on his hip the other on his chest. He is wearing a 1920s inspired Burgundy red suit. without the jacket. With a fray shirt, and a white tie. Gold accent and jewlery. He has a thick moustache on. Next to the full body there a floating head of matt, showing off his bushed back, a an empty eye socket, the other eye is white blank. Finaly there a bust shot of him, his head looking up, he is frowning. He's wearing a striped red suit vest. a floral red tie and a desaturated pink shirt. His hand goig out, his Rosary wrapped around it. There is a few written up details on the image. " Matthew Michael Natchios Murdock" Natchios is crossed out. "35yo Trans man. Pansexual. Law professor and lawyer. Widower. Irish-Latino." /.End ID] [image ID : The second image, is a rough, unfinished uncolored reference sheet of Frank Castle. The first sketch is of a small full body of the man. showing a really square overall shaped, because of his stance and long coat. The second sketch is a Bust shot of him. intensely looking at the viewer. his hair is flowing around for movement. highlighted is a long double scar on the left side of his head. He's swearing an open shirt, sleeves pushed up on his lebows, an undershirt and a shoulder gun holster. the last sketch is more cleaned and define and is a full body of Frank. He's wearing a sweater, sleeves pushed up at the elbows, with a tip cut, showing lots of his chest. high waisted pants, keept up by one suspender. He's wearing practical boot, laces undone. /.End ID]

[lovehypegirl]

AUTUMN IN NEW YORK

synopsis: You're a first year at Jujutsu Tech and your mentor is Nanami Kento. You try to get the man to open up a little after a visit to the bakery and record store information: reader's technique uses firearms pairing: platonic!nanami x platonic!gn!reader WC: 958 warnings.ᐟ : none

Gojo had assigned Nanami to be your mentor in attempt to get Nanami to work more with the students

Honesty, he thought that you and Nanami were somewhat similar, calm and collected but slightly classy

I mean, even your uniform looked like what he wore. Your uniform was a dress shirt, suspenders, shoulder holsters for you handguns, dress pants, and Louboutin dress shoes (that you had bought with Gojo's card)

You had just finished up your mission at an abandoned warehouse and as the multitude of curses faded away after exorcism, you placed your sniper rifle in your case and your handheld gun in your shoulder holster. Closing the clasps on your rifle case you stood up holding the case and adjusting the shoulder holster.

Nanami stood to the side wiping his hands on a handkerchief of any blood that the curses spewed

"Nanamin!" you called out "are you ready to leave? We've cleared the area of any curses"

"Yes. We're leaving now" he answered shortly as he turned around. He placed his cursed tool on the back of his shoulder holster

You followed after him carrying your rifle case out of the dark warehouse

Nanami walked on the street side of the sidewalk and you walked on the building side

You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the light

"It's sunset already" you stared up at the sun with a smile "how pretty" you walked next to Nanami as you looked at how the golden glow rested on buildings

You turned to a window that so happened to be a bakery and you saw how the sunset softened your features and how Nanami's sharp features were highlighted by the sunlight in certain places

"Do you wish to go in there?" His deep voice asked, snapping you out of your thoughts

"Oh um...I don't wish to trouble you" you turned away from the bakery

"No matter, If your hungry then we can eat...you had a harsh mission today so it's best if you ate" he opened the door to the bakery with a ding!

You followed after him unsure of what to say

The girl at the counter greeted in a cheery manner

"Hello! You're back again!" she smiled (IT'S THE BAKERY GIRL FROM THE MANGA!!)

"Pick what you want" he looked over at you

You hesitated slightly unsure of letting your mentor spend his money on you

"I told you, it's no matter" he placed a hand on your shoulder "Pick what you want"

"Uhm...okay then...(favorite food)"

"Let's get that for her and...a danish for me"

"The usual then huh? Who'd you bring with you?"

"She's my pupil as of 2 months ago"

"Wow! I'm sure you're a great teacher" she smiled at you and you smiled back

"He is" you grinned as he paid for your food

He walked out of the store with you by his side taking your rifle case from your hand as he handed you the food he bought for you

You felt slight relief as you finished your food, you were really hungry but didn't want to bother him for food

You looked to the side as you crossed the street spotting a record store

Throwing out the wrapper for your food as you reached the other side of the street

"I can carry my rifle now, and you can head on back to the school. I wanna stop here for a bit I wanna buy something" you pointed to the record store

"Don't worry about it I'll go with you"

"But our mission is over..."

"The mission doesn't end until we reach the school safely. It's also getting dark soon and you shouldn't be out alone in the dark"

He placed a hand on your back and guided you into the store

The record store held a nice ambiance, Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald's Autumn In New York played in the background on a record

A young woman with short red hair sat behind the counter shuffling through records

"Oh, y/n! You're back"

"Yea, do you have any new Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra?"

"Yeah, we just got Songs For Swingin' Lovers a few days ago. Should be in the back. A couple of Sade came in as well!"

"Thanks!" you called as you walked towards the section she pointed to

"Do you come here often?" Nanami asked

"I do! I really like vinyl...y'see I collect 'em. I think my first was a Beatles record...I got it for Christmas when I was...seven? Eight? I dunno, but I also got a record player the next year, so I started collecting" you rambled on as you went through the Jazz C-D box looking for a Dean Martin record that you could add to your collection

"You collect them hm?"

"Yeah! I wanna own every album from every one of my favorites one day"

"...Who are your favorites?" Nanami had begun to go through a Crooners Classics G-H box

"Oh gosh, well I love Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Louis Armstrong, ect. The classics y'know? I really like jazz...but lately, I've been into Neo-Soul...I'm thinking that this summer can be the Neo-Soul Summer 'cause during the winter I listened to a lot of Jazz...." you trained off "...uhm...am I talking too much?"

"Don't worry about it"

You nodded slightly with a small smile "Okay um...have you listened to Sade before?" you walked over to the section where Sade's records were located

"I have not" he turned towards you as you shuffled through a box

"Here we go..." you pulled out a record and handed it to him

"This one is Diamond Life released in 1984 it's uh...nine songs...one of my favorite albums"

"Mhm.." he turned the record over and read the list of songs

"My favorite time to listen to Sade is in the evening...it really fits the atmosphere...and here we go!" you picked up the Frank Sinatra record to buy for yourself

"'Kay...I'm gonna get this one...do you wanna get that record?"

He nodded slowly "Yes, why not"

"Great!" you took the record from him

"I'll get them this time since you covered our food"

"y/n I am--"

"--my mentor I know. But this is my thank you for being a really good mentor to me. Uhm...you keep me...down to Earth in a way? It's nice having a level-headed mentor...in comparison to Gojo...who's head seem to be everywhere but his neck!" you walked to the counter and placed the records on the counter and paid for them

When you exited the store with Nanami you handed him the record

"Here you go Nanamin!" You handed him the Sade record "I hope you enjoy it!"

"Thank you, y/n" he accepted the record you handed to him "you didn't have to do that, you know"

"Oh I know! But like I said, I'm thankful for having a mentor who's head is screwed on straight" you smiled as you talked to him

He huffed out a small laugh at your statement

"While we're on the topic of thanks, I've been meaning to thank you properly for the sourdough starter. I wasn't expecting it as a gift but it was a wonderful one. How did you know?"

"Gojo-sensei runs his mouth a lot"

"That he does"

"My mom also likes bread and...she has a starter to she taught me how to make one. I think that people who like bread should make their own! 'Cause then, they can have it whenever they want. Plus it's nice to smell the bread you make when I wake up on Sunday"

He smiled "I'm glad. You mentioned your first record was the Beatles, yes? How did you go from that to Jazz?"

"Wellll the Beatles is considered Madchester which really isn't my type of music so! I began experimenting and found Jazz! My parents took me to a Jazz club and I swear I spiraled from there! I even began to learn the saxophone!"

"The saxophone you say?"

"Yeah! Sometimes I play at night since it's the only thing keeping me sane at this point...curse-killing really puts a strain on the physical body and practicing an instrument helps...it really does"

"You're the one playing at night..."

"...you can hear it..? I thought you didn't stay on campus?"

"I had to stay late one night to file a mission report that I had been holding off on"

"Well, I hope it wasn't a bother..."

"Of course not, Desmond Blue by Paul Desmond is never a bother"

"Oh you knew the song!"

"You play quite well it's easy to recognize"

"Thank's Nanamin!" you smiled up at him

He returned your smile slightly and pat your back as you both walked back to Jujutsu Tech

"Now, tell me more about the songs you know..."

You shared anecdotes about your favorite songs and artists, from the soulful melodies of Sade to the timeless classics of Frank Sinatra. Nanami listened attentively, occasionally interjecting with his own insights or questions, demonstrating a genuine curiosity about your musical tastes.

As you approached the school grounds, you realized how much you appreciated these moments of camaraderie with your mentor. Despite his initial stoicism, Nanami had proven to be a supportive and understanding presence in your life as a Jujutsu sorcerer.

As the conversation wound down, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected bond you shared over music. It was a reminder that even in the midst of darkness and danger, there were moments of connection and joy to be found.

With a sense of contentment, you and Nanami entered the school grounds, ready to continue your journey together as mentor and pupil. And as the evening descended, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you had a steadfast ally by your side

© 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙃𝙔𝙋𝙀𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 | modification and translation of my works on any platforms are strictly prohibited

[imjustasugablob]

stay in character

tw: alien movie slander, leon fluff, no zombies (??) au

"Will you stop running into me? You're acting like you're drunk."

"Maybe they put a lil something-something in my popcorn, who knows?", you giggled.

You and Leon had just seen the most brainrot alien invasion movie to have ever been created in the history of mankind. The entry of the scantily clad extraterrestrial female was the highlight of the film, but then again, you hadn't seen much of it. Because Leon was sitting next to you. Maybe that's why you were all giddy.

The road was empty and the night was cold. You wrapped your arm around Leons. "I'm not actually drunk, you know."

"You kidding me? You couldn't walk a straight line right now even if you wanted to."

"Oh really, Officer?", you teased. Leon rolled his eyes at that one, but you could see right through how that nickname affected him.

Taking on the challenge, you stepped away from the sidewalk and climbed onto the curb. It was slightly difficult to do in heels, but not impossible. "See? I'm perfectly fine. Maybe it's you who isn't walking straight."

"Oh really? Then why are you holding on to my shoulder? Let go and then we'll know for sure." Well, he wasn't cutting you any slack. So you slowly let go of your hold on his leather jacket, bring your arms out to a T, just in case you fell.

You managed a full 2 steps before stumbling. Luckily, Leon had his arm right behind your waist, without you noticing. He grabbed you before you hobbled off onto to sidewalk and almost collided with his chest. He smelled like cinnamon. What?

"Not so sober, are we now?", Leon commented after a moments pause. You weren't moving. You didn't wanna move. Who would?

You could hear it in his voice, which had dropped in pitch. You could hear his heart steadily thumping beneath his woolean sweater. It felt too real, even though it wasn't.

"Hey." Leon's hand slipped down from your arm to your waist. He didn't say anything except for that word, but he didn't need to. 3 years working for the DSO, you'd seen some shit together, and had to trust him with your life more than once. You knew what he meant by every single sound he made.

His chin came to rest above your head, in a warm embrace. You inched ever so close to his body, hand slipping further inside his coat, seeking his warmth.

It felt like that moment was infinitely long and momentary at the same time, because just then, you flinched. Your hand had encountered cold metal. The hard handle of his gun, tucked inside the back of his pants, where no one in this small quaint town would see it and grow suspicious.

It seemed as if your fantasy had been cut short, and all the facts came flooding back. You were here for a mission, under the cover of being a newly wed couple who just moved here from the big city. You had started the act from your apartment, where your landlady had been visiting. You'd kept the ruse up, right up till now, when you were both alone. You didn't need to anymore. A small voice in the back of your head had said it, too. But you ignored it. And so did Leon.

The gun felt heavier in his holster now. As if it had grown a new chamber, filled with bullets that knew their final place would be inside the bearers heart.

"I see movement at 8 o'clock, suspect left his car running and exited in a hurry", you said in hushed voices as you gently pulled away from him.

The cold wing stinging your face made you numb to the pain, but it physically hurt you to pretend like everything was normal. Like you hadn't had to kill people in cold blood, and even innocents, just on the order of the government. Like you and Leon had an actual shot at living out the rest of your days in peace, just like this.

Leon thought he had come to peace with the reality of his situation. But watching you two come so close just for it to be ripped from his hands was proving to be too much for him.

pt2?? Lmk and pls give feedback babes ❤️❤️❤️

[lucky-of-the-draw]

So, there’s going to be a lot of press coverage on what happened in UCLA last night, a lot of twisting the narrative from Western media, so here’s a rundown with updates from Al Jazeera.

1.) There was an unprovoked attack last night from counterprotestors against the encampment on campus (between the library and Royce Hall).

While the base facts of it are already terrible, as students have come forward to discuss the situation with the Al Jazeera news station, it becomes increasingly more concerning.

2.) No matter how this gets spun, no matter how some source such as CBS will try to defend the attacks, the combat and violence were not mutual between the groups.

3.) Security guards, police did absolutely nothing to aid them (big shocker /s). According to the solidarity camp and the People’s City Council:

Not only did they stand to the side, rather they filmed it.

Not to mention, as more of the situation is revealed, the attacks from the counterprotestors included:

Fireworks aimed directly at the encampent

Pepper spray and mace

Gas canisters

Whole and broken glass bottles

Sticks and branches

Further, this is the latest instance of attacks and brawls started by counter protesters. One of the previous mornings, counterprotestors showed up in wee hours of the morning to say “WAKE UP COMMIES” while playing Robin Williams saying “Good morning Vietnam” on repeat over a loud speaker.

Not to mention, there are signs surrounding the camp mentioning to keep bananas away due to a well-marked, fatal allergy. The response from zionists and counterprotestors?

[Image ID: the first image, taken from a distance, features a young woman in front of one of the buildings closest to the encampment, draped in the flag of Israel, raising a bundle of bananas as high as possible. While strained, she appears to be smiling as she is holding up the bananas towards the solidarity camp. END ID]

[Image ID: The second image features a tweet which reads: “There was a protestor in the liberate zone of UCLA with a potentially fatal banana allergy. [underlined in green] Counterprotestors invaded the encampment and saw all the no banana warnings. [highlighted in yellow] The next day they came back waving bananas like settlers waving machine guns [highlighted in red] & smeared bananas everywhere.” Next to it, a young man is featured with what appears to be US armed forces gear or fatigues, each pocket or holster filled with bananas, all of it equipped over a banana costume, and sunglasses. A line of text across the image reads “Peace was never an option” END ID]

The lack of compassion and empathy is appalling, but not new nor surprising. They make memes, taunt protestors and Palestinians with songs, smiling as they literally threaten somebody’s life within the camp.

4. However, most importantly in this, the camp not only survived, they are already rebuilding and taking more defensive measures.

While it is uncertain whether several pieces of artwork and the original props behind the fence were recovered, the solidarity camp has held their ground.

I wish the best for the protestors and the solidarity camp, and that their resilience continues in the face of this atrocity.

FREE PALESTINE. END THE OCCUPATION. FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA.

[acrayday]

and we’re done !! yippee

[image ID] ; A digital drawing of all 9 members of the band ‘the mechanisms’ and a Portals style extension of starship Aurora coming from the top left. Nastya’s cheek is touching that of Aurora having a single eye closed, standing straight with a hand on her holster. to the right of Nastya is Raphealla with a smile on her face, her hands are behind her back and mechanical wings roughly the length of her own body behind her. to her right is Ashes who is wrapping their right arm in a bandage, an old burn scar on their left arm and they look relaxed. and to their right is the toy soldier who is drawn in a marionette like style, it has pink flower like particles around it, it has a rough wooden cup which it is pretending to pour tea in with another rough wooden tea kettle. Drumbot brian is standing to it’s right a hand on his neck and another in his coat pocket, he has a semi awkward smiling expression next to him there is marius. marius is casually standing up with his mechanical hand in his pants’ pocket, his other hand holding onto his spiked helmet, he has a big goofy smile on his face. In the foreground Johnny is sitting on one knee his gun supporting his arm, he is sitting infront of both Nastya and Raphealla and his other arm is resting on his raised up knee. infront of Ashes Ivy happily sits an arm resting on her right knee and infront of Brian ; Tim is sitting in a similar pose to johnny but in a more slouched position, his mechanical eyes have green highlights. the background is of one of the Aurora’s halls, dark grey and dark bronzes End image ID.

[si1verghosts]

my beloved ghost and me | ch. 0

post-di leon s. kennedy x fem reader (no use of y/n)

wc: 1.8k

18+ | cw: major character death

read on ao3

a/n: hi! this is something i've been working on since april - i intended to wait until the story was complete to begin posting it but i impulsively decided to share this on ao3 last night sooo...

as things stand, i have about 40k written for this already, but most of the chapters are incomplete due to my inability to write sequentially. so updates will come, i just can't say for certain when... sorry!! i'll likely add an unnecessarily lengthy introduction at some point explaining the inspiration for this but for now all i will say is that this is a love story. and i hope you will join me on the journey through it :-)

not beta read - all mistakes my own or done purposely due to my general disrespect for the grammatical conventions of the english language.

please do not use my work to train any sort of Al chat bot and/or writing generator. thank you.

----------

The official theme of this poem is

The official theme of all my poems which is

You get in love and then you die!

- Hera Lindsay Bird, "Having Already Walked Out On Everyone I Ever Said I Loved." (x)

-----

May 19th, 2026

---

The sun is high and sparkling when Leon leaves in a whirlwind, collecting holsters and guns and papers and keys. The window is thrown open, the fresh cut grass floating in on a breeze - you will suffer for it later, but you love the way Leon wears the smell; his warmth softening the sharp edges of the scent.

The door is ajar, his car idling in the drive when he finally slows, lingers; hands at your waist and nose in your neck.

"Stop," you whine, palms against his chest; condensation building on your glass of orange juice on the counter. "I haven't showered."

"Don't care," he mutters into your skin; sniffing obnoxiously, disgustingly.

You squirm under his touch as he drags his nose up your throat, peppers kisses along your cheek, fingers pulling you closer and closer.

Jack grumbles at your feet - your gallant protector in his fluffy brown coat of armor. Leon detaches himself from you to crouch down and scratch behind his ears; levels his gaze, voice serious, "You take care of our girl, okay?"

It's the same song and dance every time Leon leaves. Like clockwork, Jack's tongue lolls out of his mouth - of course, always.

Satisfied, Leon stands to full height once again, tan skin radiant and highlighted hair shimmering under the brilliance of the forenoon rays. Blue eyes holding your gaze, he nods down to Jack, "This is my most trusted associate - you'll be safe with him."

You roll your eyes, tugging on his collar, "Shut up and kiss me, hotshot."

And he does, hands falling back to your hips as yours find their way to his neck, capturing the strands at his nape between your fingers. He wanders under your rumpled shirt, calloused skin contradictorily soft, soothing, gentle.

His minty coffee morning taste replaces the staleness of sleep still resting on your tongue, clearing the residual lethargy from your mind. You long to slam the door closed, lock the windows, pull him back to bed and keep him there - fuck the country, fuck the world; he was yours to have and to hold.

You retreat before you can act on your selfish thoughts, voice a whisper against his mouth, "Duty calls, Agent Kennedy."

He hums, eyes still closed; presses his lips against yours once, twice, three times more. He pulls back, hesitating - stay, stay, stay, you silently beg - but it only lasts a moment before he shakes his head, clears his throat, laces your fingers together.

He takes you with him over the threshold and out into the building heat of the late Virginia spring; as far as you're able to go. Jack darts out from behind you and into the yard, redirecting to run laps around Leon's car when he opens the driver's door; your husband chuckles at the Bernese before leaning in to kiss you again.

You've said the same goodbye a hundred and one times but it still aches, burns; worry swelling in your throat as you force yourself to smile when he steps back. "I'll leave the light on," you promise, as you always do.

"No need - it's just Raleigh," Leon allays while he slips behind the wheel, hand still in your own. "I should be home before dinner if Hunnigan is feeling generous and lets me file the report tomorrow."

"I'll give her a call," you grin, letting him pull you into his chest. "Let her know she's welcome to use excessive force to get you to complete your paperwork, if need be."

He throws himself back against the headrest with a groan, silky hair fluttering with the movement. "You two are so mean to me," he grumbles. "I never should've let you be friends."

You laugh, a single snort that gets his eyes glittering, "Hilarious."

Releasing your hand, he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head towards him and capturing your mouth one last time. He sucks on your bottom lip in a way that assures his intent to seek retribution. You get lost in it for a moment, stomach clenching; dizzy with the desire to slip inside him, join him on his journeys into the darkness, tucked away safely next to his heart.

He separates the kiss when he notices you've nearly crawled inside the car with him; smirking at your glazed expression. Smug bastard.

The air moves, cooling the spit on your lip, sending a shiver through you. He swipes his thumb along your pout, immediately returning the warmth to the skin.

"Goodbye, sweetheart," he drawls, still managing to make you weak in the knees after all these years. "I love you."

"Bye," you retreat slowly, sorrowfully; swaying on the blacktop as you push his door shut. "I love you too - more than anything."

"More than anything," he repeats, holding his pinky out through the window. You knot your littlest fingers together for half a breath, stepping back as he reverses out of the drive.

Jack nudges your thigh as Leon drives away, off to save the world again - just another Tuesday.

-

You type away until the early evening - working, just barely. It was always difficult to do anything when Leon was away, especially write emails answering the same questions three times over. But you needed some way to distract yourself, to keep you from the news - Leon had made you swear not to watch it. "If there's something you need to know, you'll be told," he promised, smoothing down your hair, kissing your forehead.

A knock pulls you from your computer and your office, moving towards the foyer, Jack's nails clicking against the hardwood as he follows along. Feet planted in the same spot where Leon had kissed you goodbye a few hours ago, you pull open the door to find Ingrid.

Years ago, sometime between when hooking up turned into having dinner, Leon had sat you down, told you his job was unconventional. "It's very likely that one of these days I won't come home," he had said, blue eyes pinning you in place at his kitchen table. "I'm not telling you this to scare you; I just can't… You deserve to know. I understand if you want to leave; don't want to deal-"

You had laughed, cutting him short. It had been three months - maybe four - but you couldn't fathom the idea of walking away, of leaving him - at least not voluntarily.

Your chuckles had melted down into concern, confusion. "If you don't want to be with me Leon, just say that - I'll understand. You don't have to make up stories-"

It was his turn to interrupt you, but he had done it kinder, gentler; falling to a knee in front of you. "No. No, that's not… I can't explain, can't give details but I mean it. I want you," he had sighed, head falling forward, fringe following. "But tomorrow, next week, a year from now - I could be gone. I just need you to know that."

It was cryptic and disquieting, you should've pushed for clarification, should've gotten up and left - but he said I want you. Those three words had echoed around your skull and bounced around your heart. I want you I want you I want you.

Anyone who had ever met you wouldn't say sanity was something you possessed in spades - you leaned in, took his face between your hands and kissed him.

In the years since, you believed you had prepared yourself for the worst, for the inevitable. You had even had a few false alarms; training runs - the three weeks he had dropped off the face of the earth, unreachable in the European wilderness; the bullet through his femoral artery, resulting in near total blood loss; the tubes down his throat after a six-hour surgery to repair his punctured lung.

Leon had warned you and you had made your choice.

But Ingrid's presence on your doorstep throws you - if something happened, you should've been called. That's how these things work; your phone rings, providing you with what little information they can.

Instead, she steps over the threshold, "Have you watched the news?"

"No," you frown. "Leon doesn't… Why are you here?"

Ingrid falls forward, you embrace her on instinct, feel her choke on a sob; feel the blood freeze in your veins, stop cold. "I'm sorry."

You aren't stupid, you know what she means. You understand it, had internalized the expectation of it. Still, you don't comprehend her words. "Sorry?"

She steps back, holding your hands, someone's hands - you can't be sure they are yours, can't find them. "I'm," she shakes her head, "So sorry."

"For what?"

You don't recognize her as she frowns, almost whimpers - can't force out the words.

"I need you to say it," you urge.

She braces herself, closes her eyes, "Leon's dead."

"How?" You feel vile for torturing her, but you can't help it - you have to hear it.

She swallows, shudders. "A bomb - it wiped out the entire block. He was clear, but," she stops to heave. "He went back in, apparently."

"I," she stutters, straightens her spine. "I lost his signal. The last transmission I was able to hear, he said there were still civilians inside. So he must've went back in… He always… He always had to go back in.

"They're searching still but," she heaves again. You should really offer her a seat, a drink, a tissue - you're being a terrible host. "The building witnesses said he… He ran into - it's almost like it was vaporized; there's hardly even any rubble left. There's nothing to search."

"Okay," you nod. "Thank you - for letting me know."

You step back, make for the kitchen, "Can I get you anything?"

She looks shocked, understandably. She's had a rough day. "I… No, thank you."

"Alright - I'm going to put on some tea, you're welcome to stay."

She closes the distance between you, grabs your elbows, shakes you ever so slightly. "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, there was a bomb; you guys think he's dead," you nod at her again, slower this time. "Leon has been blown up before - more times than I can count, but I'm sure you have the records. Give the search crews a few more hours, he's probably just having a nap under a steel beam or something. You know-"

"No," she interjects."I'm sorry - but no." She's crying now, you notice; tears cutting tracks through her foundation as she squeezes your elbows again. "I need you to understand; I'm telling you, he's dead."

"No," you laugh, trembling all over with the force of it. "No - he wouldn't… I'm telling you, he's ju-"

"Listen," she shakes you, words sharp, certain. "He's gone."

Tomorrow, next week, a year from now - I could be gone. I just need you to know that.

The room tilts as his words reverberate around your skull, "He's gone?"

"Yes," she sobs. You wonder if you're crying too. "He's gone."

You open your mouth to respond, but can't figure out how to form the words. You sink to your knees and scream.

[mellifluous1melodies1]

Playing Pretend

Before Sylus I didn’t even LOOK at another love interest in LND. Obviously, that has changed. 

Warnings: Smut, Guns, Fighting, Slight blood mention, light choking, 

Synopsis: You and Sylus go to a black market ball in the N109 Zone where together you must retrieve the other half of the Aether core before someone else does. The success from your mission allows you to finally resonate with Sylus. 

A/N: *Loosely based off the Roleplay chapter with Sylus. MC is black afab but you can change the appearance as you like. I just figured I’d write for someone who looks like me since its hard to find on here :) Please like and or repost if you enjoy this! That way I can write more if people are interested in reading this. *

______________________________________________________________

The mirror in the dimly lit room captures the uneasy expression plaguing your face. The night grew darker and you hadn’t moved from the spot before the mirror, staring at the ball gown that clung to your body. A long breath escapes between your lips as you hold your curly hair up in a makeshift bun on the top of your head. Dissatisfied, you let it down, letting your hair cascade down your bare back as you try several different styles to better flatter the gown Sylus had made for you. Your fingers play with the crimson lace and black embroidery that decorated it, highlighting her curvy figure. 

Sylus’ presence is felt before you even notice him standing behind you in the mirror. “You wear it well.” His low voice reverberates through the room. He towers over you, straightening his matching suit, studying his reflection as well as your own. The perfectly tailored suit matched him perfectly, exuding his intense aura and power as his fingers shifted a stray piece of his silver hair from his face.“The limo is ready. As am I."His voice had a hint of impatience despite trying to hide it.

“The door was locked.” You grumbled in response, still playing around with your hair. 

“It’s my house. Nothing’s ever really locked.” He leans close to your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. 

“What’s the plan exactly?” You turn with a heavy sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. 

In his hand was a long pistol, one of Sylus’ own guns that rivaled your very own. “Keep this with you. I’ll tell you the plan when we get there.” 

Your eyes look up at him then back at the long pistol. Carefully, you take the weapon, slipping on the safety as you walk over to the king sized bed. You lift your leg onto the ottoman at the food of the bed, lifting your dress from the ground until your honey thighs peeked out at him. Sylus’ ruby eyes trail up and down your long legs, him watching you clip the gun to your thigh holster. You hide your legs back under your gown once you were sure the gun was safely attached. “How am I supposed to fight in a dress like this?”You quizzed, ruffling the hem.  

“Not everything needs to end in a fight, sweetie.” Sylus winks. 

“I am a hunter, unless you forgot. And you still haven’t told me the plan. You don’t have one do you?” You narrow your eyes at him, the soft lighting in the room only illuminating half his face, but you could still read him like a book. 

“I have a plan.” He states, clearing his throat and fixing the tie around his neck. “You just need to follow my lead.” Exiting the room, Sylus stops right by you, leaning forward as he looks right into your eyes. His eyes stare through yours, lingering for a moment before they fall down onto your figure one last time. When he looks back up at you again, he stands up straight. “Wear your hiar up. You can show off your earrings.” He suggests, before leaving the bedroom, shutting the grand doors behind him. 

 ****

“Nice plan!” Your sass rings through the now empty ballroom, painted red with the blood of your enemies. The once extravagant ball had now been cleaned out with tables knocked over and bullet holes decorating the walls and dead bodies. Your heeled foot was perched on the still body of a man in an all white suit, a red stain erupting from his chest. The barrel of your gun was smoking as it pointed at the top railings of the ballroom, where you successfully shot a man down from the high angle. 

“Yeah, well he wasn’t supposed to be here.”On the other end of the ballroom, Sylus stood from his kneeled position, checking the pulse of the man he just knocked out underneath a fallen chandelier. “We need to go. Now!” Sylus’ voice was hurried, almost panicked as he pulls out a lighter from the dead man’s pocket. Quickly, he flicks a small flame to life, pressing it against the giant curtains that covered the blacked out windows. A fire erupts almost instantly, spreading through the grand hall before you could even object. 

“But the aether core!” You watch Sylus as he storms towards you, grabbing you by the waist as he leads you towards the doors where all the remaining survivors fled. 

“We got it!” He tells you through gritted teeth. “Kieran and Luke will take care of it. We just need to get out of here.” He glances down at you, checking you briefly for any injuries.

Sylus guides you to the front entrance where a black limo screeches to a stop at the bottom of the diamond staircase. With his hand on the small of your back, Sylus opens the last door for you, letting you crawl inside as he intensely watches your surroundings. Before he could even shut the door with you both inside, the limo takes off at high speeds down the roads back to the mansion. 

“How did that go so wrong?” You managed to catch your breath, counting your remaining two bullets in his gun that you never loosened your grip on. 

The last thing you remembered before the fight ensued was a man with a heavy entourage interrupting your waltz with Sylus. The annoying guests and bright lights began to blur as you two enjoyed a quiet dance to the string band that played for the guests. 

Sylus only took his eyes off you when the small moment of peace disappeared when a man in an emerald green suit joined the party, six guards in all white suits following him closely. Sylus was able to spot more white suits high up in the balconies, standing with her hands holding something concealed on their hips. “We may have trouble.” Sylus whispers into your neck. 

“Wha” Before you could even ask for further clarification, Slyus spun you away into the arms of a stranger to approach the man in the green suit. 

Uninterested in your new dance partner, you leave him to stand by the drink table to watch them chat for a while. The conversation seemed tense from the distance you stood on the dance floor, but Sylus made sure to give you a soft glance every once in a while to ensure your safety from the people around you. 

Then, everything flipped like a switch. 

When your back was turned. One of the guards in the white suits had placed his hand on your soldier, whispering too close to you for comfort. “Come with us and no one will get hurt.”

At the sight of his hand touching you, the room erupted into havoc as Sylus began to beat and kill anything that stood in his path that threatened to harm you. 

And now you were barely escaping, unscathed in his limo back to his mansion. “How did that go so wrong?” You racked your brain for an answer. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. He just showed up…even I couldn’t have predicted that.” 

“Who’s he?” 

“My old partner.” Sylus admits, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “He knew I was coming here tonight…” 

“Your old…partner?” You wait for clarification. “Are you enemies now? What happened?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” he huffs. “We got the core and we’re both alive. That alone is something to celebrate.” You slouch in the backseat of the limo, finally able to breathe when the vehicle pulls up to Sylus’ mansion. You reach for the door, when he grabs your wrist, stopping you. “Wait…”You hear the doors lock.  

“What?” You grunt, having enough of being grabbed for one night. 

“Just stay…” he requests. “I just wanna enjoy the presence of a pretty girl in a pretty dress for a little while longer.” Sylus admits, his voice softer than ever in a hushed tone. He wipes his gun clean with a handkerchief, closing his eyes to bask in the silence. 

****

The night led you both to the balcony of Sylus’ bedroom. He finally had bid you goodnight, but your feet carried you to his bedroom where he overlooked the n109 zone from his bedroom. A town where daylight never seemed to reach and where darkness always seemed to follow those who lived there. 

The moonlight cast a silver glow over him, highlighting his built figure. He didn’t move when he heard his bedroom door open, but you knew he was aware of your presence. Still in your gown from the night, you touch Sylus’ back, a small greeting to let him know you had joined him on the terrace. He leaned forward onto the railing not speaking a word until you opened your mouth first. 

“I thought I locked my door.” Sylus interrupts you, making you forget what you were going to say to him. 

“You said so yourself. Nothing is ever really locked in here.” You smirk, leaning against the balcony railing. 

“Surprised you’re not asleep.” He states, taking a peek at you still wearing your gown. 

You shrug. “How could I? My adrenaline is still pumping from tonight.” You admit. “Plus…I wanted to know where you wanted me to leave your dress.” Your fingers play in the ruffles of the gown. 

“Keep it. It looks better on you than it will on me.” Sylus chuckles lightly in the night. 

“You saying I look pretty?” With a smug smile, you twirl in the dress, waiting for a response from him. 

With a gleam in his eyes he watches you spin, standing up straight to elimnate more space between the two of you. “Beautiful.” he corrects. “It’s a shame the night was ruined with a gun fight.” 

“It wasn’t ruined.” you tell him. “Pretending with you was fun…before all the shooting and explosions.” You hide a smile, tucking a loose curl behind your ear. 

“I know.” Sylus adds, “Turns out you’re a great actress. Thought about kissing you at one point to really seal the deal.” He eyes turn to overlook the gloomy city again, hiding his flushed cheeks. 

“Why didn’t you?” You cock your head to the side, this time, you stepping closer to him. 

“I didn’t want everyone to see you slap me in the middle of the ballroom floor.” He admits, scratching the back of his head. 

“I wouldn’t have…I probably would’ve let you.” You clear your throat, fearful of the words you just let slip your lips. 

“Probably?” he teases. 

“Would’ve.” You correct. 

“What about now?” Sylus’ voice drops to a whisper as he steps forward, his fingertips slowly tracing circles on your exposed shoulders. His eyes searched yours for any clue of hesitation, but only found the mirrored look of desire. Slowly, Sylus’ hand reaches to your face, his long fingers caressing your cheek as the moonlight dances against your skin. Your heart flutters at his touch as the air between you crackles in anticipation. 

Your fingers find his waist, testing the waters as you pull his body against yours. Scared that his words would ruin the moment, Sylus just listened to the sound of his own heart beating viciously as he stared into your eyes. A sudden wave of bravery entered his body and Sylus longed to feel his lips on yours. He intertwines your fingers with his, “Your hands are shaking. You’re not terrified of me, right?” He teases, your eyes dark with lust. Without taking another second to hesitate, Sylus finally presses his lips to yours, both of your eyes closing at the same time. Your mouths move together in a sense of tenderness and urgency, unsaid words and emotions pouring out into the kiss. Desperately, you pull him in closer, using the small window of opportunity of when he looked down at you to catch a breath. 

Your hands move up towards his face, your small fingers tracing shapes along his jawline. You crash your lips onto his, sliding your tongue in between his lips, swirling them around each others. With Sylus greedy hands sliding up and down your back now, he discovers the zipper on the back of your dress, yanking it down. 

The sleeves begin to fall off your shoulders and you pull back to catch your breath. Slyus uses this moment to kiss on your neck and shoulders allowing you to pull down your own dress as you start to kiss him down to his growing length through his slacks. 

“Someone’s eager.” His velvety voice causes shivers to run down your spine. 

“Why don’t you give it a kiss?” Sylus  suggests, allowing you to unzip his dark slacks to free him from his briefs. 

You stick out your tongue right as he springs into your face. Not letting his size intimidate you, you let your tongue roll along his shaft, testing the waters with his girth. As you pull your head back, your tongue caresses his tip, causing him to grip onto your bun at the overwhelming sensation. A wince leaves his mouth and his eyes cut down at you. He guides your mouth onto his dick as you slide nearly his entire length into your mouth, gagging as his tip hits the back of your mouth. He couldn’t help but chuckle as his fingers wrap around your curls in your hair, the sound of your gagging causing him to smile. “That’s it…” He growls as you bob your head up and down his length, covering his dick with your slob. Your eyes slowly trail up to find his, filled with a gleam of passion. “I love when you look up at me with those pretty eyes.” His lips curl upward into a smile as he tosses his head back, you taking his inches into your mouth. 

“Yeah?” you release his length from your mouth with a pop, knowing when you responded it drove him crazy. 

“Oh, kitten.” Sylus begins to rub his hands along his own chest as you brought him closer and closer to the edge. “You know that beautiful mouth makes me aggressive…” Using your bun, he begins to shove you face farther and farther down his shaft, causing you to emit a loud gagging sound whenever he touches the back of your throat. “You wanna make me cum?” He raises an eyebrow, waiting for your doe eyes to meet his.  His voice was husky and deep as he spoke down to you, almost enough to make you cum already. 

“Yes,” You beg, your own spit dripping down your chin as you try and pump the remainder of his length your mouth couldn't reach with your hands. 

“Yes?” His voice teases, causing your pussy to drip more from just speaking to you. “Yes, what?” He waits for clarification. 

“Yes, sir.” You correct, taking the moment to breathe as he lets you release his dick from your mouth. Your glossy eyes meet his and Sylus forces you to your feet but simply touching your chin with his pointer finger. His hands wipe the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes. Your lips snatch his in a deep kiss again and Sylus begins to slip out of his shoes and his slacks. With his hands now exploring your body, Slyus begins to caress your thighs, jumping up for him to catch you. Your legs wrap around his waist, you completely falling out of your dress. With careful steps, Sylus guides you into his bedroom, leaving the balcony doors open to allow the night breeze to cool you both off. 

You sit yourself up on your elbows as he tosses you onto the bed, freeing your hair from your updo. You watch him bite down on his lip, fully encapsulating your almost naked body posing before him. Seductively, you unclasp your bra, letting your breasts free, allowing him to take a longer look at your figure. Teasing him, you carefully draw around his abs with your bare feet, waiting for him to finish undressing before he joins you on the California king. 

Sylus nearly crashed onto the bed, planting kisses all over your body. One by one, he takes your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and sucking on them until you moan from the pleasure. Your fingers get lost in his silver hair as you await for the moment your lips meet his again.

That moment only lasted so long before Sylus found himself peppering you with open mouth kisses down your chest and to the hemline of your lace underwear. “May I kiss you here?” He requests. 

“Please.” You breathe, squirming under his touch. 

“Please?” Sylus raises an eyebrow at you. “Never knew you were one to beg.” 

No problem for him, he presses a kiss right on top of the lace, before sliding his finger underneath the underwear to grant himself access. His warm tongue licks a strip down your labia, causing you to not only gasp at the sudden contact but also curse aloud. “Shit…” Sylus nearly buries his lips into your pussy, sucking hard on your clit and momentarily rolling circles around it with his tongue. “With his eyes closed, he devours your pussy, praising your taste with every chance he got as he made you feel good from just his tongue. 

His hands find his way up unto your breasts, sliding underneath your bra to play with your hard nipples, arousing you further. “Fuck you taste so good…” he moans, switching to kitten licks on your already swollen clit. 

Abruptly, you sit up, watching him from above as he works to make you cum.You pull at his hair, gasping as butterflies begin to enter your stomach as your breath quickened. Sylus slips one finger into your entrance, curling it forward to further apply pressure to your g spot. “Fuckkk…Sy, I don’t know what you’re doing but keep doing it.” You beg him, him smirking at the sudden nickname. Gripping at the sheets, you beg for Sylus to continue to his speed patterns as he focuses to make you cum. The overwhelming euphoric experience stole her words from her, but her moans were more than enough to use as fuel to keep Sylus going. 

“Don’t cum yet, sweetie.” Sylus’ voice was in your ear now as he removes his face from your heat. He places his body right on top of you, carefully sliding his tip up and down your slit as he hums in your ear. You whimper as his length enters you, nearly bulging from outside your stomach. He smirks, burying himself deep inside you before nearly pulling out completely. “I love that noise you make.” He kisses your forehead, as you desperately pine for his lips again. Again, slowly, he thrusts himself into you, causing you to moan underneath his touch, every thrust making you weaker and weaker to him. Your knees buckle as he playfully hits your g spot. “You feel me right here..?” His tip causes your body to fly upwards, nearly crashing your faces together. 

Sylus grabs your wrists, pinning you down onto the bed. “Aht. Aht.” He smacks his tongue. “You can handle it…” his low sultry voice convinces you as your body shakes with his throbbing dick inside you. “See? You take me so well.” he praises, listening to your whimpers that fell from your pouty lips directly into his ears. From even the smallest touch, your eyes roll back at the pleasure he brought you from simply pumping in and out of your pussy. “Keep moaning for me. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.” Sylus instructs, lifting your legs over his shoulders as he deepens himself inside you,despite you thinking he couldn’t go any further. 

Your nails dig into his back as you reach between your bodies to finger your throbbing clit. “Did I say you could touch yourself?” Sylus removes your hand from your box, pinning it back up onto the pillows as he thrusts harder into you. “God…you feel so good.” Instead, his hand finds himself flicking your clit in a way that made you moan louder than you were before. “You like that?” He questions, his eyes opening to peek at the pleasure written on your face. When you don’t answer, he grows annoyed, repeating the question. “Talk to me.”He sings, his fingering gets faster and stronger with his thrusts. “Answer me, kitten.” 

Your walls squeeze around him as you threaten to cum soon. Forcing out just even a small sentence, you manage to answer him, “Y-yes…I like it-” Your hands search for anything to grab onto you, until you finally find his shoulders. They ground you and evidently pull your body even closer to his in a way neither of you thought was possible.

“You’re easy to please.” His voice rasps as his own moans get louder and louder the closer he brought you both to your orgasms. His hands manage to cover each one of your ass cheeks as he spreads them apart, thrusting deeper and deeper into you. “I can feel you getting ready to cum all over me…” Sylus manages out between his heavy moans as he pumps faster and faster.“Fine. I’ll be generous and let you cum first.”His own pleasure caused his voice to waver slightly. “Tell me when.” he orders, using his hand that isn't satisfying your clit to force you to look up at him. His red eyes gleamed as he maintained eye contact with you.  You want to pull at his hair, but your hands find themselves intertwining with his. 

“I’m gonna cum…” Your legs threaten to close as your orgasm creeps out of you, causing you to scream his name louder, unafraid if anyone else inside the mansion hears. “Sylus! I’m cumming! ” His hands slam together with yours, tightening your grip as a white light begins to wisp between your palms together as you finally are able to resonate with him in this intimate moment. With heavy shallow breaths Sylus continues to pump his length in and out of you as your body begs to be freed, your orgasm spreading through your body in jerky movements. 

With you already riding your orgasm, he uses your overstimulated pussy to bring himself to the edge. He kisses your neck, sending his head flying back as his eyes roll. “You’re gonna make me cum…” he tells you, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips and bringing one of his hands to your throat, only tightening his grip slightly. The slapping sounds of your thighs echo throughout the bedroom as you pull on his hair, begging for a breather. Your eyes lock together, your foreheads pressing together. “Look at me when I cum…” he begs, just as desperate as you seemed when your orgasm fought its way out of you. His voice rasps as he gushes out thick, creamy ropes inside of you. With his body convulsing on top of yours, his eyes never leave yours as his orgasm rips through him. “Take it. Take it!” Too weak to pull out of you, he lets his load fill you up inside as he screams your name into his neck. His cums creep down his shaft from inside your pussy lips as he carefully pulls out from inside of you. His breathing has evened out as he slumps onto you on top of the sheets. With deep kisses and some incoherent mumbling in between, Sylus was finally able to pull out of you completely. His sheets become drench in his cum as well as yours as he caresses your sweaty thighs, pressing kisses to them as he soothes you. “You’re shaking…you can relax now.” He hums, kissing your head and holding you to his chest. 

Sylus takes you in his arms, lying you both down onto his bed. Petting your head and tracing shapes on your sweating body, he manages to calm you along with the song of his heartbeat into your ear. 

“Maybe we should play pretend more often.” You suggest, kissing his toned chest as his breathing had finally stilled. 

“Oh, kitten.” His hands play with your fingertips. “You’re getting more and more interesting.” Sylus admits before pulling you on top of his naked body, sliding himself inside you once more. 

[zepp-l1n]

A Good Gamble

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x GN!reader

summary: a few jokes lead to the (partial) reveal of romantic feelings. fic type - fluff, friends to (future/not yet stated) lovers warning - guns are mentioned once, but other than that, none word count - 936 a/n: I actually really enjoyed writing this one, and hope you guys like it as much as I do :)

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Jesper had one job. Kaz had simply asked him to watch the door, just as he usually did. And yet here Jesper was, sitting at one of the many tables being used for gambling.

Kaz wasn't surprised when he saw his sharp shooter at the table instead of guarding his post. He had expected it to happen in all honesty - hence why he put (Y/N) on 'Jesper duty'.

They were currently stationed at the bar, with a direct view of their friend. He had been there for around a hour, gambling an amount of kruge only saints could guess. Good kruge that could've been used on groceries, rent at the slat, or a new hat. (Y/N) glanced up from the bar towards Kaz, who was sitting at a table in the far back of the Crow Club. He sent them a small nod - the decided signal that it was time for (Y/N) to step in.

(Y/N) finished the few drinks they were passing out, and made their way out from behind the bar. It didn't take them long to make their way over to Jesper, nor did it take him long to register their presence. "Ah! (Y/N), my dear friend!" he chucked. "Come to watch me win?"

"Quite the opposite, Jes. I've been given orders to cut you off." they grinned at him as they spoke. One of their hands slid across his arm, beginning to pull him away from the table.

"And who ordered that task?" Jesper joked while attempting to release himself from their grasp. Of course Jesper knew the answer to that already - he had felt Kaz's unpleasant gaze on him for the past 20 minuets - but he needed something to say to distract his fellow crow from their task.

"Nobody other than Kazzle Dazzle himself." they smirked. "Now, c'mon before he decides to bring you back to your position himself." Jesper looked up at his friend, watching as the dim light highlighted just the right areas of their face, then let his mouth form into a pout. "No, don't give me that look. You no it won't wok."

"Oh, come on (Y/N)! Just a few more rounds!" he practically begged. By this point a few of the men at the table Jesper was gambling at had stared to get rowdy - groaning and complaining about the two crows. (Y/N) quickly shut them up by flashing the gun holstered on the hip at them.

(Y/N) sighed, re-adjusting their grip on his arm. "How about this, I let you do one more round. But, if you loose, again, you have to get back to you job."

"And what do I get if I win?" he asked.

They shrugged. "I take your shift, and you get to loose more money."

"I don't know. I'm a gambling man, sweetheart. You're gonna have to offer up more." Jesper leaned forward, challenging (Y/N)'s confident stance.

In retaliation they crossed their arms, and narrowed their eyes at the sitting sharp shooter. "A kiss."

(Y/N)'s focused gaze quickly faltered as their face lightly flushed. "What?"

"Y'know, a smooch? A peck? A little canoodle-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Saints, fine." they answered.

Jesper's joking attitude suddenly turned into a serious and smug one. He turned back towards the table, facing each of the unhappy gamblers, and moved a stack of kruge into the middle of the table. "All right boys, get ready to loose." (Y/N) let out a small snort at the comment before turning around, grabbing a chair from another table, and bringing it right next to Jesper's.

The round went as following; Jesper started out well. He didn't brag too much, kept a decent poker face, and make carful decisions when placing his cards. His lead lasted long enough for (Y/N) to become worried about their prior deal, but like usual, it all came crashing down eventually.

Jesper got proud of himself to early, and didn't think his next few plays all the way through, causing a man on the other side of the table to take his win. "Well then, Jes, seems like you've gotta get back to work." (Y/N) chuckled.

Jesper looked over at them, and smiled softly. "Yeah, yeah. I'm going." he laughed back. He stood up from the chair he previously occupied, and pushed it back in it's place before glancing back at the fellow crow. "In case you finish your shift before or after I do, goodnight my dear, and sleep well. Try to dream of me." he said, returning to his usual joking self.

Before he could walk away, (Y/N) reached forwards, grabbing the lapels of his jacket. He glanced down at them confused. (Y/N) shrugged before answering. "I know you didn't win, but you still did pretty good, so-" they cut themself off by pulling him down, and placing a kiss on his cheek. "Better luck next time I guess. And hey, maybe then you'll get a real kiss." They then pulled away from Jesper and let go of his jacket. The crow patted Jesper's shoulder twice, and then walked back in the direction of the bar.

A dopey grin grew on Jesper's face, as he watched them leave. "Huh." he joyfully muttered to himself. A small laugh left his mouth uncontrollably. Jesper turned around, making eye contact with their boss, who had witnessed the whole interaction, and sent him a sly wink. He didn't wait for Kaz's response before making his way to the door, walking the entire time with a new pep in his step.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Finders Keepers - Chapter One

AN: Hey guys - I’m back with my first x Reader story in a few months and of course it’s Bucky. I hope you enjoy this multi-chapter futuristic adventure story, where some elements are complete rip-offs of other sci-fi franchises, lol

Beta’d by @mrs-illyrian-baby 

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard by me.

Bingo Fills - @buckybarnesbingo Square B5 - an Image of Bucky pointing down with a gun

Master list | BBB Master list

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Chapter word count: 2k

Chapter CW: Cyberpunk/Futuristic AU, Bucky being a dick, Reader has a prosthetic lower leg, world-building, mild angst, minor background PepperRhony.

Chapter 1 - Bucky fucking Barnes

April - 2206

“What are you doing here, dollface?”

You looked up, from where you were sprawled inelegantly on the floor after your fall, into the masked face of your worst enemy. Bucky Barnes.

He stood over you, pointing his stunner in the direction of your chest. It was menacing, but you knew that, at least at this moment in time, he didn’t actually mean it. You batted the weapon to the side with your hand and stood up, scowling at him the whole while.

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m carrying out a Find for someone. What else?”

His ice blue eyes narrowed, but he holstered his stunner and you felt the last of your trepidation disappear. The neon lights from the buildings at the other end of the alley bounced off the plains of his face, highlighting his strong jaw and high cheekbones, despite the half mask he wore.

“Well, sweetheart, I think that you seem to be in my territory.”

You scoffed. “So what if I am, Buck-o? I’m a small potato in this business. Hardly a threat to your vast empire.”

Bucky stepped closer, the rainbow of lights shifting and illuminating the blue-black of his left arm, and unconsciously you wiggled the metallic toes of your right leg inside your boot.

“I didn’t get my vast empire by letting folk like you muscle in. You got something to find for someone, you do it elsewhere. That’s always been my rule and I’m not about to become a bleeding heart now, especially for you.”

You bent down, picked up your backpack and slung it back over your shoulder. “Heaven forbid that the great Bucky Barnes do something that benefits someone else, even if it doesn’t inconvenience him. But don’t get your panties in a wad - I didn’t find what I was after, anyway. See you never, Barnes.” 

Without waiting for him to respond, you turned your back on him and walked out of the alley into the bright lights of downtown, heading towards home. You weren’t stupid enough to head directly there though. You took a circuitous route, stopping at the Spectrum for a drink and to check for a tail. After thirty minutes of nursing the luminous concoction you’d ordered and people watching, you decided it was safe enough.

You doubled back the way you’d come, and ducked into an apartment complex in one of the most rundown areas of the city. As you jogged up the stairs you waved and smiled back at the other occupants you saw. Most knew who you were and what you did. People with skills like yours were invaluable. Reaching the top floor you walked past all of the apartment doors until you got to the small supply closet at the far end. Pressing your thumb to the padlock that was on the door until it clicked open, you entered the small space.

You’d done your best with your humble abode. There was a small cot to sleep on, a covered bucket for waste, a large bowl to wash in and then an array of handmade shelves taking up the rest of the space. These shelves were packed with high nutrient rations, the meagre possessions from your childhood and all the Finds you’d picked up because you knew someone would want them sooner or later; an intermix injector for a Mk 2 flyer, a converter for a top of the range holovision and various other easy to transport items. 

Was your accommodation legal? No, but you knew no-one in the building was going to rat you out to the mostly absent landlord. You did your share for the immediate community you lived with. Some folk were nice enough to let you use their washing facilities and in return you reimbursed them with any spare credits you had, or offered them discounts on your Finder’s fees for anything they might need to get hold of.

As you closed the door behind you, you let your backpack drop onto your bed, and locked yourself in. You then sat down and pulled out the Personal Access Display Device that, contrary to what you’d told Barnes, you’d managed to scavenge from one of the heaps on the edge of his territory. You couldn’t help the smile that spread over your face at the fact that you’d managed to best him. It was just a shame that you hadn’t gotten in and out without him noticing. 

Your smile disappeared and your brow furrowed as your thoughts returned to the embarrassment of getting caught like that. Barnes had startled you, and in the dark you hadn’t seen who it was, so you’d run. You recalled the sounds of the heavy footsteps chasing you and the jolt of fear you’d felt. Fear that had then been tinged with dismay when a projectile hit your back. It didn’t do much damage, thanks to your backpack and leather jacket, but it had knocked you off your stride and you’d gone down, only to roll over and look up into his annoying face.

Snorting at the recent memory, you decided to put Barnes from your mind for the rest of the night. You pulled your mini HV out from under your cot and, after switching it on, hopped through the stations until you found one playing your favourite, trashy soap opera. The actors roamed around in front of you, and you smiled at their antics. 

With your entertainment sorted, you reached up onto one of the shelves and grabbed a random savoury ration pack. The text on the side of the silver packaging proclaimed that it was some sort of vegetable curry. You pressed the clicker on the side of the pouch to heat it up and while you waited you got out your tool kit. There was no point handing off the PADD if it didn’t work. You wouldn’t be able to build your reputation that way.

You spent your evening tinkering, laughing at the show and trying not to grimace at your dinner. But you were happy. You didn’t have a lot, but it was yours and still a lot more than some folks had. And when you went to sleep it was with a smile on your face, knowing you’d pulled one over Bucky Barnes.

You woke in the morning to the chiming from your personal comms device. You rolled over with a groan, stretching out your hand with your eyes still closed, until your fingers came into contact with the thin plastic. You cradled it to your chest for a few moments as you woke up the rest of your body, your eyes finally opening and working well enough to bring everything into focus. You brought up your messages and were overjoyed to find that you had a new commission. Someone wanted you to find a Fustan Convertor and you knew just where to find one. First, though, you had to get up, and deliver your Find from last night. That would mean credits and therefore some food that didn’t come out of a foil pouch. You’d managed to grab a shower yesterday, so today you’d settle with a strip wash. 

You sat up on your bed and swung both your legs - all one and half of them - over the edge,and shucked your sleep clothes. Your body started to pre-emptively shiver as you dipped your washcloth into your bowl of cold water and wrung it out. You started with the most delicate areas first - your face and then your stump.

You’d long come to terms with your limb difference, the result of an accident when you were a teenager, and we’re glad that you lived in a time when most folk had access to prosthetics that could easily give you back all the abilities of a flesh and blood limb. And it wasn’t just lost limbs either; people who’d lost their eye-sight could gain some semblance of vision back with the latest technology, and the deaf could get cochlear replacements. What hadn’t changed though was the cost of such things, and you knew that paying for your prosthetic was what had bankrupted your family, and why you were living where you were now.

With your ablutions dealt with, it was time to put your leg back on. First was the sensor net that plugged into nerve ports on your thigh and also covered your stump. It transferred signals to your prosthetic once you had it in place and stopped any rubbing against your skin. As always, there were a few moments of calibration, where you had to wiggle your toes and rotate your ankle, making sure everything was properly connected. Then it was time to get dressed and head out.

You carefully placed the PADD in your backpack and slung it over your shoulder, before unlocking your door, exiting and then re-locking it. You jogged down the stairs, in a good mood, and pushed through the exterior door out onto the street, pulling the hood of your coat over your head to protect from the seemingly permanent drizzle that misted over the city. 

It was only a couple of stops on the grav-train to get to your client’s lodgings, and you completed your transaction with a smile, the PADD handed off for those all important credits. Your next stop was breakfast. 

As you travelled back the way you’d come, your thoughts turned to the man that made your life a lot harder than it needed to be. When you’d first crossed paths with Bucky Barnes, having only heard the odd snippet about him, you’d hoped that you’d be able to make an alliance or at least a mutual understanding. That had all gone out of the airlock before you’d barely had a chance to open your mouth. He’d been immediately combative and rude, telling you to leave his territory, the unspoken threat of what would happen if you didn’t, hanging in the air between you.

You’d resolved then and there to make yourself just as well known as him, if not more, in this business, and if while doing that you trod on his toes, all the better. The guy thought he was the big ‘I am’, and deserved to be taken down a peg or two. No-one in your shared socio-economic bracket could realistically manage on their own for very long - partnerships were the way of the world.

The grav-train swayed to a stop and you walked up the steps and up into the dim light of daytime. You could just about make out the shapes of personal transport vehicles zipping through the sky above the fog that hung at the lowest levels of the city. You’d used them every so often when you were younger, but not enough for you to lose your fascination with them. The memories were hazy now, though. All that remained was the feeling of absolute freedom, and how quiet and clean it was up in the sky. However, for now, you’d just have to rely on your two mismatched feet, and the odd ride on public transport. It was therefore with those two feet that you made your way down the street towards your favourite diner, skipping around the puddles of suspicious liquids, and avoiding the pickpockets. 

Despite the daylight hours, Potts’ Diner was still brightly lit, the sign attached to the roof flashing, like a signal beacon. Luckily, there was nothing nefarious going on with the owners, Mr & Mrs & Mr Potts, unless you counted the time they attempted to add fish tacos to the menu - that had not been a good few days. 

When you’d first moved to the area, when it was clear you had to find a way of supporting yourself, this diner had been one of the first places you’d come. You’d been here before several times as a child, brought along by your parents for a treat. Mrs Potts and Mr James Potts were always so gentle and kind, and their husband, Mr Tony Potts, was always making you laugh and smile with his antics.

You jogged up the diner steps and the door whooshed open, the electronic rendering of a bell chiming as you stepped through, letting the three of them know that a new patron had arrived. You flashed a smile at Pepper as you passed where she was standing behind the counter and gestured towards your normal booth. She responded with a nod, before turning back to the customer she was currently serving. You slid into the booth, and took off your backpack and coat, stretching your legs out under the table. Your right leg whirred as the pressure on it was reduced and it went through a recalibration cycle.

You were just pondering whether to change up your usual order for one of James Potts’ specials, when a shadow fell across you. You looked up and gasped in surprise as the looming body bent down and slid onto the bench seat opposite you.

“Hey, doll. Fancy seeing you here.”

Bucky fucking Barnes.

Chapter two

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[tacticalspider]

you only hear the music / when your heart begins to break

(image description in alt and under the cut)

image description: first picture is a drawing of po, the red teletubby, as kobra kid from the my chemical romance danger days album. pobra kid, as he will now be called, has red flesh and a light peach face, with short, slicked back hair that blends from red roots into blond and a red antenna with a circle on the end. he's wearing giant black sunglasses and a very cool red jacket with navy blue stripes going across the chest and navy and white stripes going up and down the arms. on his right arm, which is turned slightly towards us, theres a patch that reads 03. theres also a patch on the jacket's left breast which is supposed to say something about a pegasus but it's barely visible so let's just ignore that. under the jacket, pobra is wearing a yellow t-shirt with black splotch stripes going up and down, sort of like the world's worst tiger print. he also has black jeans and a red ray gun strapped into the holster on one leg. at the top right of the page, which, by the way, is an info sheet about a heart monitor, there are two little orange highlighter stripes, and pobra kid is written on those in black pen. end id.