#he instead punches his way in through the fence

[random-kido]

Losing my mind over this sequence of events and his absolutely deadpan stare lmao

[starshipsofstarlord]

lap girl (2)

summary. daryl needs comfort at the greene farm after he fails to find sophia again. luckily his girl is willing to give him exactly what he needs; her in his lap

warnings. fluff, angst mentions of daryl’s childhood abuse, mentions of death, swearing

divider credits. @cafekitsune

greene farm

It was a new place, and they didn’t belong, and were only welcome due to the miss-aim of Otis. If he had hadn’t ricocheted a bullet into Carl, then their group that had travelled from Atalanta to the CDC and then some, would never have found this little piece of solace. Daryl’s eyes squinted beneath the glaring sun as he sought out the figure that had brazen themself to be absorbed in the daylight, feeling safe since there were barbed fences separating them from the wilderness in which the dead freely roamed. Y/n was enjoying the quiet that surrounded her, sitting upon the blades of grass that handed no threat in her direction.

It was pleasant to see her so peaceful, she wasn’t running for her life, or scavenging for scraps to replenish her hunger, she was instead still, and content in being so. But feeling secure wasn’t enough; it wouldn’t last, it never did. They’d eventually be sent on their way back to the trailing lands that had lead them here in the first place. The road was cruel, and it would only get worse when winter devoured them with the hardships of its crisp air.

And Daryl resented the foreshadowed thought, as they would need more supplies and warm food, and a fire big enough to bring heat to them all. The embers would only attract the undead and threaten them with even more loss, and whilst Daryl wasn’t particularly fond of many people in the group, he had somehow integrated within its ties after Merle’s absence.

Merle had left him before, in the worst possible way - alone with their father William Dixon. He understood that his elder brother had wanted to escape from the abusive entrapment, and thus he had allowed Daryl to be single-handedly foreseen by their parent as a punching bag; and worse. He still had the scars that were far too prominent over his body, they were askew like lines in a map, permanent and hadn’t faded since the sharp indents that had once been bloody had healed.

He resonated in a ying and yang parallel with Carol, the mother of Carol. She was distraught with Sophia’s fleet, already grieving her loss when there was nothing sufficed to state that she was either dead or alive, and Daryl felt responsible to uncover the reality that encased the child, to bring comfort to not only her mourning mother, but the rest of the group. It was an unsure journey that he had already been scathed from, a bullet that only with luck grazed his temple, and an arrow that was plunged from the long fall into his side, but he needed to do this.

Daryl knew what it felt like to be alone when he had been of the same age as Sophia, however he had discovered a loophole through the tormenting years prior to the contagion that infected the human vessel; there was a girl. He had been instantaneously drawn to her, although at first he had wanted to keep his distance, he’d never allowed anyone close. But she made him see the sun shine in every smile that composed itself upon her face and each glimmer that reflected in her eyes.

She made him feel safe. And so here he was, seeking her out as the gauze remained attached to his head, and if anyone saw him he was sure he would look like a fool. The normally obscure and grouchy Daryl appeared giddy as he stepped towards his human lifeline, his footsteps uncoordinated as he felt the ache in his side brew.

At the sound of shuffling fabric behind her, y/n’s head whipped around, she knew better than to just assume that there was no danger that could appear out of nowhere. Even with the serene tranquility that was deranging her viewpoint from the world that had began feasting on itself, there was always the risk that getting too comfortable would end in death. And Daryl smirked at the sight of the blade that shone from the sun in her hand.

“Thought you were a walker you ass!” She exclaimed, her mouth widening in a teeth baring smile. Her blade was placed back in its hiding spot as she felt the need to aid Daryl in seating himself next to her, her palm remaining against his bare arm. “I kicked Andrea’s ass after her shit shot, told her to get Herschel check her eyesight.” Daryl shook his head lightly as to not cause any more disturbance to his injury, promptly nudging her with his shoulder as he allowed himself to laugh at her protective demeanour towards the blonde.

“Yer real funny sunshine.” His rare smile was prominent as he endearingly looked at his girl, wrapping his arm around the back of her relaxed shoulder blades as he brought her closer. But close was still not close enough. “C’mere.” Daryl agilely helped her climb onto his lap, the place he reserved solely for her, his rough yet tender hands remaining on her hips as he brought his face near to y/n’s, rubbing their noses together in a sweet eskimo kiss.

He was exhausted, and he felt like a failure, but she was the only comfort that he needed. Her form was facing his own, and she brushed her featherlight fingertips against his cheekbones, sparing a glare to the dressing. “We’ll find her.” She whispered gently, shutting her eyelids as she melted into him. “But for now you need to rest honey, I’m not having you wear yourself into the ground.” His head rested against her collarbone, inhaling her presence as he tried not to be frustrated with himself.

It wasn’t his fault that Sophia had ran for her life off of the highway, and he wasn’t guilt for being unable to find anything other than her stuffed toy. His hands ran up and down y/n’s back as he buried his head in the crook of her neck, finally taking a break from his daily searching. He just needed his girl planted in his lap, and all his qualms and insecurities became minor.

[steddiehyperfixation]

holding out for a hero

@steddiebingo prompts: superhero au + fly | 1.8k words | rated T

Eddie doesn't believe in superheroes. He may live most of his life in fantasy, playing fantasy games and reading fantasy books, but contrary to popular belief, he does still know the difference between reality and fiction. And some superhuman wonderboy flying through the streets of small town Indiana sniffing out crimes to stop is definitely fiction, no matter what the local news stations have been saying lately. 

It's all just some angle, some sort of propaganda. “Something to make the ne’er-do-wells scared and the do-gooders feel safer,” as he'd put it in his lunchtime rant earlier this afternoon, stomping atop the high school cafeteria tables and laughing at everyone who jeered at him. He was being dramatic and theatrical, but the point still stands that these stories of a superhero in Hawkins are utter bullshit. Especially since the only evidence the news has been able to cough up on the contrary is a couple of fantastical eyewitness accounts and one singular blurry, grainy, heavily shadowed photo of a random guy jumping over a fence. 

Eddie believes in what he can see, and if there really is a superhero running around Hawkins, he’s fairly fucking certain he would’ve seen it by now. He commits crimes on the daily and no one’s ever stopped him. No masked vigilante has ever interrupted a drug deal. No wonderboy has ever busted him for petty theft. They're small crimes, sure, but it's not like there's too many others doing too much worse around here. To that end, no one’s ever saved him either, when a deal goes south or a bully gets physical, but that’s a weaker argument. Eddie knows he’s not the kind of person most people would care to save.

He certainly doesn't expect to be saved now as he finds himself at a meeting that’s quickly shaping up to be more of an ambush. It was already shady to start with, the details of the deal set up through anonymous notes left in his locker that led him here to wait outside of an abandoned building in the middle of the night, but then the guy marches up with three extra goons behind him, guns on their belts, and it’s only getting shadier. Eddie straightens up from the wall he’d been leaning on, every muscle in his body tensing warily. 

The guy in front gives him a derisive once over. “So you’re Al Munson’s kid, huh?” he sneers, and that’s when Eddie knows he’s really in trouble. 

“Shit.” Eddie raises his hands and starts backing away. “Man, whatever beef you got with Al, it’s got nothing to do with me, alright? I don’t want any trouble.” 

“Right…” The main thug’s lip curls up sarcastically as he advances. His goons advance with him, and as they step out of the shadows Eddie realizes that while two of the goons are respectably big and scary, the other one is just some fucking kid, no more than a few years younger than him. In fact, he’s pretty damn sure he’s passed him in the hallways at school before. That must’ve been who was leaving the notes. 

“Oh, eugh.” Eddie wrinkles his nose in distaste, his stupid mouth running off in reaction to his moral disgust before his brain has the sense to stop it, “Did you seriously rope your fucking kid into this shit? You know the more you get him involved the more it could just as easily end up being him in a situation like this instead of me.” 

He's answered, predictably, by Main Thug slamming a fist into his face. “Are you threatening my son?!”

“No!” Eddie yelps, cowering away as the pain blooms across his face from what is most likely going to become a black eye. “I’m just saying-”  

“Well, stop sayin’.” Main Thug swings again and Eddie tries to dodge out of the way, even throwing up his hands in an attempt to block, but the blow still lands and it stings like hell. His momentary disorientation from being punched again gives Main Thug even more of an advantage, which he uses to grab Eddie by the collar to keep him from moving. “Stop sayin’ and start listenin’. I’d hate to have to kill you before you can make up for what your daddy owes us.” 

“Okay!” Eddie raises his hands once more in surrender. “Okay. Take it easy.” 

Clearly, fighting his way out of this is not an option. These aren’t some high school bullies he can scare away with a single show of self defense and a well-timed weird face; these, with the exception of the random kid, are full grown men at least twice his size who are hellbent on achieving either Eddie’s death or his compliance, and they aren’t picky which. Surrounded and outnumbered, shutting up and staying still seems like his best bet for the moment. Although, he’s not too sure he wants to find out what exactly they want to make him do to pay off his douchebag dad’s debt either. 

He waits until Main Thug is satisfied enough with his surrender to let go of his shirt, and then, in a split-second impulse, Eddie turns and bolts. The half-second advantage of surprise allows him to slip through the circle of goons around him, but after that his luck dries up. His assailants recover too quickly, immediately swearing and chasing after him, and Eddie’s not fast enough to outrun them. He’s caught within moments, one of the big goons grabbing onto him and redirecting his momentum to throw him into a wall. 

“Ow, fuck!” Eddie’s shoulder slams into the wall first, then his back; and even his head gets a good thump against the brick too. The wind knocked out of him, all he can do is brace himself for another hit. But it never comes. 

Instead, the fucking Hero of Hawkins himself comes flying in out of nowhere to barrel down his attackers, very efficiently taking the heat off of Eddie as the thugs are now far more preoccupied with fighting off a goddamn superhero.

“What the fuck?” Eddie blinks the lingering blur of pain from his eyes, squinting to make sure he’s seeing things right. It’s dark and wonderboy’s wearing a mask, but Eddie would recognize that perfectly coiffed hair anywhere. “Steve Harrington?” 

Obviously caught off guard by being recognized, Wonderboy/Steve falters for one fatal second. His startled pause is tiny and brief, all things considered, but it gives the thugs just enough time to regain their footing and draw their weapons. 

“Shit.” Steve reacts in an instant. Within the blink of an eye, he dives towards Eddie, scoops him up bridal style, and launches into flight just before the first gunshot rings out. 

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps, clinging onto Steve’s neck as they rocket into the sky. “Take me out to dinner first!” 

Steve, clearly, does not find this amusing. “We are literally being shot at,” he hisses. 

“Yeah, and that’s very scary, so I’m cracking jokes to cope,” Eddie retorts over the sound of his racing heartbeat and the wind in his ears. “Sue me, Harrington.” 

“I don’t know why you keep calling me that,” Steve lies, evasive gaze trained straight ahead as they stop flying up and start flying forward. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not-” 

“What, not Steve Harrington?” Eddie scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Suuuuure. You know, the mask is good and all, but if you really don’t want people to know who you are, you might want to consider wearing a hat or something too. You have very recognizable hair,” he informs him. “And moles,” he adds in an afterthought, continuing to study Steve’s face with the utmost attention. It’s a nice distraction, better than looking down or looking back. “And jawline…and eyes… So really you should probably just wear a whole paper bag over your head, actually,” Eddie decides. “But then I guess that would kill the whole dashing hero vibe you’ve got going, huh?” 

To his surprise, that's what succeeds in making Steve laugh. “Oh wow.” Steve finally looks at him, eyebrows raised in amusement. “You seem intimately familiar with this Harrington guy’s facial structure. Does he know how much you've been looking at him?” 

“What, no, I look a normal amount,” Eddie protests indignantly. “Those are all totally normal things to notice. Especially since they are, like I said, very recognizable features.” 

“Sure. Which is why no one else has ever accused me of having the same jawline as Steve Harrington.” 

“Are you seriously going to keep denying it?”

“I think you got hit just a little too hard tonight,” Steve says, simultaneously dismissing the validity of Eddie’s accusation and redirecting the conversation with such smooth and genuine concern Eddie almost misses the implied insult to his current mental capabilities. “Is your head okay?” 

Eddie chooses not to be offended in favor of responding with a smirk and quip, “I’ve yet to receive a bad review.” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answers more soberly. “Just a little bruised, nothing serious. I’ll live.” 

“Good.” 

After a minute, Steve’s flying slows and he starts making a gradual descent. Eddie finally risks a glance down, watching the entrance to Forest Hills Trailer Park rise up to meet them. Steve's taken him home. 

“Aw man, is the ride over?” 

“Yeah. Go home, take it easy, get some ice on those bruises,” Steve says as he lands gently and sets Eddie back on his feet. “I’m gonna go make sure those guys won’t mess with you again.” 

In the moment where his feet have just settled steadily on the ground but his arms are still around Steve’s neck, Eddie can’t help but press a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek before letting go and swaying out of his space. “Thanks.” 

“Uh- yeah.” Steve stutters for a barely noticeable second before he recovers, nodding in a sort of farewell salute as he starts backing up to leave. “Stay out of trouble.” 

“And pass up the chance to be your damsel in distress again?” Eddie grins. “I don’t think so.” 

Steve huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Then I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Munson.” 

With that, he turns and launches into the air. Eddie watches as he arcs gracefully through the sky and fades into the distance. He stands there staring after Steve even after he’s lost sight of him, the far away silhouette of him disappearing into the night. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters, blinking and shaking himself out of this trance. It still hasn’t quite settled in yet that any of what happened tonight was actually real, but what has settled in is that he’s exhausted and his face hurts. Everything else he can process in the morning. 

He drags himself around and makes his way back to his trailer where he collapses onto his bed and passes out within minutes, sinking into dreams of flying.

[rylem33]

The Cowboy Experience

I've been working on this one for a few days. I hope you enjoy. If you do, mosey on over to my blog (link on my Tumblr home page) and take a gander at the other 100+ stories I've written. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dusty road stretched for miles in front of Sam and Drew as they bumped along in their rental car, the sprawling ranch just coming into view on the horizon. It was a hot day, and neither of them could deny their nervous excitement.

“So remind me why we’re here again?” Sam asked, squinting through the windshield at the vast landscape. His tone was dry, laced with a familiar sarcasm that had become second nature to him.

“Come on, Sam! It’s an adventure!” Drew’s grin was wide as he looked over, excitement radiating off him. “When else are we gonna get a chance like this? A whole weekend as cowboys! The ad made it sound like we’d learn everything from riding horses to branding cattle.” He paused, noting Sam’s dubious expression, and shrugged. “Alright, maybe the branding’s not what I’m looking forward to, but you know what I mean.”

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. But I still don’t see why we had to come all the way out to the middle of nowhere for it.” He looked around, watching as the horizon flickered with heat. “It’s not like we’re exactly…fit for ranch work.”

Drew laughed, nodding in agreement. “Exactly why we need to do it! Just think of it, Sam. A couple of city guys, totally out of our element, learning how to rough it. Besides, how bad can it be?” He leaned back, brushing dust from his shirt. “We could both use a break from the daily grind.”

Sam sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I’m not exactly dying to get sweaty and covered in…I don’t know, hay or dirt or whatever. But I guess it’ll make for a good story.”

“That’s the spirit!” Drew said, giving him a light punch on the arm. “I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to the work…feeling like I’m doing something instead of just being on my computer all day.”

Sam shook his head, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I barely know how to tie a knot, let alone lasso a cow.”

Drew shrugged, his optimism unshaken. “You never know. This could be good for us. I’m just sayin’ to keep an open mind and all that.” He looked out the window as the gravel road wound them closer to the ranch buildings. “Besides, we don’t have to master it all. Just get a taste, you know?”

They both fell quiet as the main ranch building came into view, nestled between two old barns and a couple of wooden fences. The place looked rugged, like it had been there for a century and seen a lot more than two city boys could ever imagine.

“So, think they’re gonna go easy on us?” Sam asked, eyeing the impressive sprawl of land around them.

Drew snorted. “Not if they’re real cowboys, they won’t.”

They parked near a tall, weathered barn. The whole area was quiet, and the open field stretched far and wide, framed by mountains that gave the land a rugged beauty that even Sam couldn’t deny.

They stepped out of the car, stretching and taking in the stillness of the land around them. Sam felt an odd sense of peace but also an unease. He felt out of place. He glanced over at Drew, who seemed to be practically vibrating with anticipation.

“Okay, admit it,” Drew said, nudging Sam with his elbow. “You’re a little excited too, right?”

Sam shrugged, the smirk returning to his face. “Fine. A little. But mostly nervous.”

Just then, the loud creak of a door broke through the quiet, drawing both of their eyes toward the barn. Emerging from the shadows was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a thick gray mustache, a cowboy hat tilted low over his eyes. He walked with a confident, unhurried swagger, his boots stirring up small clouds of dust as he approached.

He looked Sam and Drew up and down, taking in their city clothes, clean shoes, and the faint hesitation in their eyes. After a moment, he let out a low chuckle. “Well, ain’t this somethin’. Couple of city boys out here tryin’ to be cowhands, huh?” He shook his head, smirking. “Don’t get many like you two out here. Tell me, boys, you even know the front end of a horse from the back?”

Drew laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Well, we’re here to learn. I mean, that’s why we signed up, right?”

“Right,” he replied, his gaze landing on Sam, who was watching him with a growing frown. “The name’s Hank and I’ll be supervising you two.”

“Just a heads-up,” Hank continued, “ranch work’s not exactly for soft hands and fancy talk. Out here, you’re gonna get dirt on you, you’re gonna sweat, and it’s probably gonna hurt. Think you can handle that?”

Sam’s frown deepened, and he muttered, “We didn’t come all this way to sit around and sip cocktails.”

Hank’s eyes flickered with something that might’ve been amusement or irritation, it was hard to tell. “Cocktails, huh?” he repeated with a mocking drawl. “Figures.”

Drew chuckled, a bit nervous. “We’ll keep up, Hank. Promise.”

Hank shook his head, muttering something under his breath. He looked back at Sam, then Drew, with a smirk. “You boys think you’re up for it? Alright then. Let’s see if we can’t knock some of that city slick off ya.” Reaching behind him, he pulled out two well-worn cowboy hats, holding them out with a flourish.

He offered one to each of them, looking them dead in the eyes as they took them. “Here. Maybe these’ll make men out of ya.”

Drew took his hat eagerly.  It was  broad and rugged, with a wide brim and a dark, weathered band that looked like it had seen its fair share of hard days.  He grinned as he pulled it down over his hair. “Thanks, Hank,” he said, voice laced with excitement. “This is great.”

Sam’s hat, on the other hand, was noticeably different. The brim was slightly narrower, with a lighter color that gave it a softer look. Sam held the hat with uncertainty before placing it on his head. It sat high on his head and he wondered if he’d drawn the short straw, or if Hank had done this on purpose.

Drew let out a small laugh, nudging Sam. “Hey, look at us! Starting to blend in already, right?”

Hank gave a snort. “Ain’t so sure about that. Those hats don’t make you cowboys. But, maybe, just maybe, they’ll remind you to quit fussin’ about and get to work.”

Drew chuckled, but Sam’s jaw tightened, and he met Hank’s gaze directly. “Thanks for the tip,” he said, his tone dry. The nerve of this guy, Sam thought. Just because they weren’t born on a ranch didn’t mean they couldn’t pull their weight.

Hank smirked, clearly amused by Sam’s pushback. He tipped his own hat down slightly, eyes twinkling. “Tell ya what, why don’t you start by hauling those bales of hay over to the barn,” he drawled, jerking his head toward a stack of hay bales. “A few hours of that, and we’ll see if you’re still eager to play cowboy.”

Drew looked to Sam, shrugging with a grin. “Guess we’re on hay duty.”

Sam sighed, his jaw set, and muttered, “Yeah, let’s get to it.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning’s work was rough, but Drew was determined to keep going. The sun was relentless, and sweat was already dripping down his back by the time they’d dragged the first few bales halfway across the yard. He glanced over at Sam, who was keeping up but looking more out of sorts with every passing minute.

Sam had paused to press a hand to his forehead, muttering something under his breath that Drew didn’t catch. His movements were off, like he was distracted or unsteady, and when he tugged at his shirt collar, Drew noticed something odd in the way he did it.

“You good?” Drew called out, hoisting another bale onto his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Sam replied, brushing off the concern, though his voice sounded different. Drew tilted his head. It wasn’t anything obvious, but there was something in Sam’s tone that hadn’t been there before. He shook it off.

They kept at it, the sun beating down as they worked. Drew powered through, but his eyes kept drifting back to Sam. He couldn’t help it, there was something about the way Sam was moving that didn’t seem…right. His gestures, the way he stood, even the faint lilt in his voice when he muttered complaints under his breath.

At one point, Sam unbuttoned his shirt halfway, letting it hang loose. “This sun sure don’t mess around,” he muttered, and Drew froze mid-step.

The words were fine on the surface, but the way Sam said them was different. There was a faint drawl sneaking in at the edges. If Drew hadn’t been listening so closely, he might not have noticed, but now that he had, it stuck out like a sore thumb.

Drew frowned, squinting at his friend. “You’re sure you’re alright? You’re talking kinda funny.”

Sam turned toward him, blinking as if he’d just woken up. “Funny how?” he asked, sounding as normal as ever. Drew started to feel like maybe he’d imagined it.

“I dunno,” Drew replied, shaking his head. “Forget it. Let’s just keep going.”

By midday, Drew couldn’t hold back anymore. He dropped his bale and walked over to Sam, who had paused to rest against the fence, his hip cocked slightly with one hand resting on his thigh. 

“Sam,” Drew said, his voice low. “You notice anything…weird about how you’re acting?”

Sam cut him off with a laugh, shaking his head. “Drew, I think the sun’s getting to you,” he said. “You’re making stuff up.”

Drew frowned but didn’t push. The thing was, Sam didn’t seem to notice what he was doing. It was like the moment Drew brought it up, Sam snapped back to normal, but when he wasn’t paying attention, those little changes sneaked back in.

Before Drew could figure out what to say, Hank’s voice rang out across the yard. “Y’all takin’ a break already?”

Drew turned to see Hank strolling over, that ever-present smirk plastered on his face. “I figured a couple’a city boys might’ve lasted longer, but look at you,” he said, his eyes landing on Sam. “You doin’ alright there, sugar?”

Drew glanced at Sam, who stiffened slightly, his hand going to his hip in a way Drew couldn’t help but notice. “Just gettin’ used to it,” Sam said, his tone oddly sweet.

Hank chuckled, crossing his arms. “If you can’t handle a little sweat, maybe you belong in the kitchen, sugar.”

Drew stepped in, voice firm. “Hey, lay off him, Hank. We’re just new to this.”

Hank shrugged, unfazed. “Just playin’, son. Ain’t no harm in it. But if he’s gonna talk like a lady, he oughta get used to bein’ called one.”

Drew clenched his jaw, glancing at Sam. But instead of snapping back like he normally would, Sam just brushed his hair back again and gave a small, tight smile.

Drew stepped closer, lowering his voice as Hank walked away. “Sam, I’m serious. Something’s off. You don’t usually act like this.”

Sam just laughed, brushing it off. “You’re overthinkin’ it, Drew. I’m fine. It’s just the sun.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The afternoon sun beat down on Sam and Drew as they hauled fence posts, sweat soaking through their shirts. The work was exhausting, every muscle in Sam’s body aching from the effort, but something about it felt different now. He couldn’t explain it, but the exhaustion wasn’t just physical, his mind felt off.

Sam paused, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “This sun’s brutal,” he muttered, his voice softer than he’d intended. He cringed slightly at the sound, clearing his throat and shaking his head. “Almost makes me miss the city.” That sounded better, closer to his normal self.

Drew grunted in agreement, hefting another fence post onto his shoulder. “Yeah, no kidding. Can’t remember the last time I sweated this much.”

Sam chuckled weakly, tying his open shirt at the front to keep it out of the way. The motion felt instinctive, practical, but as soon as he caught the knot in his peripheral vision, something about it felt…wrong. He tried to brush it off, but the knot nagged at him, and his thoughts started spiraling again. He quickly untied it.

He stole a glance at Drew, wondering if he’d noticed, but Drew was focused on the post. Sam let out a quiet breath, relieved. Get a grip, he told himself, reaching for another post.

The longer they worked, the harder it became to hold onto that grip. His thoughts felt slippery, like they were being pulled in two directions at once. On the surface, he was focused on the task of lifting, hauling, and sweating under the sun. But underneath, there was something else. A part of him that wanted to move differently, to speak differently. It was subtle, but it was there, whispering at the edges of his mind.

“Sam,” Drew’s voice cut through his thoughts, making him jump slightly. “You okay? You’ve been kinda…quiet.”

Sam straightened up, forcing a quick laugh. “Yeah, just beat,” he said, his tone casual. “You know how it is….work like this’ll knock the wind outta anyone.” He grinned, trying to project confidence, but Drew kept looking at him, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You sure? You sound a little…I don’t know, off,” Drew said, tilting his head.

Sam clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm. “I’m fine, Drew,” he said, a bit sharper than he meant to. But even as the words came out, he caught himself adding, “Don’t fuss over me, alright?” The softness in the last part of his sentence made his stomach twist. He turned away quickly, busying himself with the next bale before Drew could press further.

As they wrestled with a particularly stubborn fence post, Hank strolled over, his ever-present smirk already in place. “Well, ain’t this a sight,” Hank drawled, leaning casually against the fence. “Couple’a city boys finally gettin’ their hands dirty.” His gaze lingered on Sam, and Sam felt an immediate spike of irritation.

“Just tryin’ to get the job done,” Sam said, keeping his tone steady.

Hank’s smirk widened. “Looks like you’re finally gettin’ the hang of it, sugar. Just don’t strain yourself.”

Sam felt the heat rise to his cheeks.  It wasn’t from embarrassment, but from the sharp stab of annoyance. “Maybe I’d do a better job at runnin’ this ranch than you, old man,” he shot back before he could stop himself.

The words came out sassier than he’d intended, with a slight lilt at the end that sounded nothing like him. Drew’s head snapped toward him, his face a mix of surprise and confusion, but Hank just laughed.

“You’ve got fire in you now, don’t ya, darlin’?” Hank said, his tone mockingly sweet. He leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Might wanna watch that attitude, sugar. Could get you in trouble ‘round here.”

Sam’s hands tightened on the fence post as he fought to steady his thoughts. The fire Hank was talking about….it was there, burning hotter with every word. It made him want to snap back again, to say something cutting, but he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep quiet.

“You don’t scare me,” Sam finally said, his voice steady, though he could hear the faint hint of a drawl creeping in at the edges.

Hank let out a low chuckle, leaning back. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya, sweetheart,” he said, tipping his hat before sauntering off.

As soon as Hank was out of earshot, Drew turned to Sam, his expression serious. “What the hell was that?”

“What?” Sam asked, feigning ignorance as he picked up the next post.

“You don’t usually talk like that,” Drew said, his eyes narrowing. “The way you’re acting, the way you’re talking.”

Sam forced a laugh, trying to brush it off. “You’re overthinking it,” he said, his tone lighter. “I’m just messing with him. Guy’s got it comin’, don’t you think?” He tried to sound casual, but the way Drew kept staring made him uneasy.

Drew didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push further. “Whatever you say,” he muttered, grabbing another post.

Sam turned away, his grin faltering as soon as Drew couldn’t see his face. He let out a slow breath, his hands tightening into fists. Keep it together, he thought. This isn’t you. You’re fine.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun had barely sunk below the horizon when Hank finally called it a day. Sam’s muscles burned, and his skin was streaked with dirt and sweat, but the tiredness felt good somehow, like he’d accomplished something real. Hard, honest work. He glanced over at Drew, who looked tired but satisfied as well.

“Alright, city boys,” Hank said, smirking as he gestured toward the bunkhouse. “Time to wash up and meet me out by the fire. Dinner’s in an hour. Try not to take too long, princess,” he added, giving Sam a pointed look.

For once, Sam didn’t bother shooting back a reply. He just smiled. When he glanced over at Drew, he caught his friend staring at him with a confused look. Sam just shrugged, flashing him a quick grin as he turned toward the bunkhouse. He caught himself swaying his hips slightly as he walked. Stop that, he thought sharply, forcing his gait back to something resembling normal. 

Sam stepped into the bunkhouse, towel slung over his shoulder, his muscles aching from the day’s labor. The soreness was real, but it wasn’t the only thing he felt. He looked in the mirror and noticed his shirt was knotted again.  When did I do that?

Closing the door behind him, Sam let out a long breath and stripped off his sweaty clothes, tossing them aside without a second thought. The cool air on his skin sent a shiver down his spine.  He was filthy.  Nothing a nice shower can’t fix.

He turned on the shower and stepped under the warm spray. The water cascaded over him, and for a moment, he just stood there, letting it wash away the dirt and sweat of the day. His shoulders relaxed, and he exhaled slowly. But as the water streamed over his skin, he couldn’t ignore the strange sensitivity coursing through him.

He ran his hands over his arms, scrubbing at the grime, but the touch felt different…more intense. His fingertips brushed against his chest, and he gasped softly, startled by the sudden wave of sensation. What the hell… he thought, but his hands kept moving, almost on their own.

As he rubbed his chest, his fingers grazed his nipples, and a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through him. He froze, gripping the wall for support as heat surged through his body. His breath quickened, his mind scrambling to process what was happening. Slowly, his free hand moved downward, brushing over his stomach, his hips, and lower still.

His skin was changing under his hands. As he rubbed along his chest and arms, faint patches of body hair slid away, clinging to his fingers before vanishing down the drain. His skin beneath was smooth and soft, impossibly sensitive.

One hand drifted back to his chest, fingers circling his nipples again as small, firm buds began to push against his palm. The warmth in his chest was undeniable, and as he glanced down, he saw the faint beginnings of breasts taking shape.

A sharp tingling sensation at his fingertips drew his attention, and he watched in stunned silence as his nails grew longer, the edges sharpening into pointed tips that glistened in the water. He flexed his hands, staring at the elegant curve of his new nails as they glided over his chest, tracing the roundness of his budding breasts.

His other hand moved lower, almost instinctively, brushing against his groin. The touch sent a wave of pleasure through him so sharp it made his knees buckle slightly. He steadied himself against the wall. His penis felt smaller in his hand, softer, and each stroke seemed to shrink it further. The sensation was overwhelming, electric, almost addictive.

The changes didn’t stop there. He felt a pull at his scalp, the tingling spreading to his hair. As the water poured over him, his hair lengthened, sliding down over his shoulders in soft, damp waves. He reached up to touch it, his fingers sliding through the silky strands, the sensation making his stomach flutter.

Sam’s mind reeled as the changes continued, spreading through his body like wildfire. His waist narrowed, his hips flared slightly, and his butt filled out, pressing against the curve of the shower wall. His stance felt different, his balance shifting as his thighs thickened, smooth and soft. Every touch of his hands sent shivers through him, and the heat building in his core made it harder and harder to think clearly.

No, he told himself, squeezing his eyes shut as though that would make it stop. He shook his head, trying to push away the thoughts creeping into his mind. Thoughts that told him this felt good, that he should just let it happen.

He gritted his teeth, forcing his hands away from his body and gripping the edges of the shower wall instead. The water pounded against him, grounding him just enough to steady his racing heart.

When he finally turned off the water, he stood there for a moment, catching his breath. His heart was pounding, his body trembling, but the heat was beginning to fade. Slowly, he reached for the towel, drying himself off without glancing in the mirror. He didn’t need to see. He knew.

His chest felt heavier, the faint swell of his breasts undeniable. His skin was smooth all over. And though he avoided looking down, he could feel the change between his legs.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, pressing a hand to his chest as if trying to steady his racing heart. Get a grip, he thought, clenching his jaw. But deep down the way his body hummed.

When he stepped out, clean and refreshed, his eyes fell on a small bench beside the sink, where a fresh outfit lay folded neatly…a snug, fitted top and a pair of denim jeans. He didn’t remember packing anything like it, but the sight of them didn’t surprise him. Nothing really did right now.

Without a second thought, he slipped them on, tugging the top over his head. It clung to him, accentuating his smaller waist and the gentle curve of his torso, while the jeanshugged his hips perfectly, sitting low on his thighs.  The pair of leather boots slipped on perfectly.

The wide-brimmed cowboy hat sat waiting on the counter, and he grabbed it, settling it back onto his head. He tilted the brim down slightly, flashing himself a confident smirk in the mirror.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drew sat by the campfire, adjusting his hat and staring into the flames, his jaw clenched tight. His mind spun, replaying the events of the day. Something was happening to Sam and yet Sam didn’t seem to notice.  Or maybe he didn’t care. That thought made Drew’s stomach churn with frustration, though he couldn’t quite say why.

Footsteps on the dirt drew his attention, and when he looked up, his breath caught. Sam was walking toward him, silhouetted by the firelight, and Drew immediately felt his pulse quicken. Sam’s tied-up shirt clung to his waist, showing off a toned stomach, and his hips swayed in a way that Drew couldn’t believe he was seeing. He looked…Drew shook his head. No, this wasn’t right.

Sam settled down beside him with an easy grin, tipping his hat back slightly as he turned to face Drew. Drew couldn’t help but notice Sam’s face was different too.  Softer, smoother.

“What’s the matter, Drew?” Sam asked, his voice light, teasing, almost sing-song. “You act like you’ve never seen a girl before.”

Drew’s jaw tightened, and he forced himself to look away, staring hard at the flames. “You’re not a girl,” he muttered, his voice rough.

Sam just laughed softly, clearly unbothered. “Are you sure about that?,” he said, his tone playful as he adjusted his hat.

Drew turned sharply, his frustration flaring. “What are you even talking about?” he snapped, his voice louder than he meant. “This isn’t funny, Sam. You’re acting like…like all of this is normal, like you don’t even care.”

Sam shrugged, running a hand casually down the front of his shirt, smoothing the fabric. “Guess the ranch agrees with me,” he said with a smirk.

Drew’s hands clenched into fists, the roughness of his skin scraping against his palms. He could feel his body tensing, his muscles tight. His thoughts grew hazier, sharper, and more heated with every second Sam sat there, grinning like nothing was wrong.

Before he could say more, Hank’s low chuckle broke the tension. “Well, ain’t you lookin’ like a queen tonight,” Hank drawled from across the fire. He took a slow sip from his flask, his eyes lingering on Sam. “That hat suits ya, sugar. Like you were born to wear it.”

Drew’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. Hank’s words should have sounded ridiculous, but they didn’t. The way Sam leaned into the comment, tilting his hat and grinning, only made it worse. Drew’s frustration burned hotter.

“Maybe I am,” Sam fired back, his voice brash. “And maybe this place could use someone like me runnin’ things ‘round here.”

Drew couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His best friend, the guy he’d known forever, was sitting there acting like this….like he belonged in this…this new role.

Hank chuckled, clearly unfazed, his gaze flicking between Sam and Drew. “Queen of the ranch, huh? Guess we’ll see if that attitude lasts. Thing about queens out here,” he added with a lazy grin, “they need keepin’ in line.”

Drew felt something snap. A hot surge of frustration and anger bubbled up inside him, and for a moment, he didn’t recognize the thoughts in his own head. Sam needed to be put in his place.

Drew shifted in his seat, the weight of his cowboy hat pressing down on him like it was part of him now. “Maybe Hank’s right,” he muttered, the words rough, almost growled. “Can’t go acting like you own the place, Sam.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he leaned back, completely unfazed. “Oh, really? And who’s gonna stop me, you?” His tone was challenging, daring, and it set Drew’s teeth on edge.

Drew’s muscles tightened, his broad shoulders squaring as he leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping lower. “Maybe someone does need to,” he said, the words coming out with a strange, unfamiliar authority.

Hank chuckled again, clearly pleased. “Hear that, son? Your friend’s actin’ like she’s in charge. Might be time you stepped up.”

Drew wanted to laugh it off, to snap back at Hank and defend Sam like he normally would, but something in Hank’s words felt…right. He nodded slowly, his lips curling into a faint, tense smile. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, almost unrecognizable.

Sam laughed, bold and carefree, but Drew caught a flicker of something in his eyes. “You all can think whatcha want,” Sam said, throwing his hands up with a shrug. “I’m just havin’ some fun.”

That did it. Drew couldn’t hold back any longer. He pushed himself up from the log, his boots kicking up dirt as he stood. His mouth set in a hard line, his voice sharp. “I don’t get it, Sam,” he said, his tone steady and rough. “You’re just acting like…like none of this matters. Like you don’t even care what’s happening to you.”

Sam’s grin faltered for a moment, but it came back quickly, more forced this time. “Guess I just know how to handle myself,” he said, tossing Drew a flippant look. “Maybe you should give it a try, cowboy.”

Drew’s jaw clenched as heat burned through him. Without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed off into the darkness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam watched Drew storm off.  She knew her friend was upset, but had a hard time caring.  Instead, she tipped her hat back and watch the flames of the fire dance. Her body felt warm, but she wasn’t that close to the fire.

Hank sat across from her, his gaze moving over her with curiosity. “Ranch life seems to suit you just fine, doesn’t it?” he drawled, taking a sip from his flask.

Sam let out a low chuckle, her voice softer, smoother than it had been that morning. She could feel the changes in her body.  The way her hips felt fuller against the fabric of her shorts, the narrow of her waist. The way her top clung to her chest, and as she shifted, she felt the unmistakable weight of her now-full breasts.

“Guess it does,” she replied, tipping her hat with a confident smirk, the flirtatious edge in her voice surprising even her. She crossed her legs, feeling the softness of her thighs, the way her skin seemed to glow in the firelight.

Hank watched her, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Ain’t every day we get a queen of the ranch around here,” he murmured, as if he was stating a simple fact.

Sam didn’t reply. She just flashed Hank a smile, feeling his gaze follow her as she stood up from the fire. The night air was cool against her skin, but her body felt feverish, alive with a need that grew with every step back to the bunkhouse.

Each shift of her hips, each brush of her thighs as she moved, only intensified the sensation. Every inch of her body was humming as if it had been waiting to be touched, to be explored.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drew stormed into his bunkhouse room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the frame. His fists were clenched, and his jaw was tight as he paced the small space, boots thudding against the wooden floor. Anger coursed through him, hot and unrelenting, but underneath it, something else simmered.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Sam. About the way she had strutted up to the fire like she owned the place, the way her grin had practically dared him to say something. Her boldness, her confidence, her body. Drew shook his head sharply, trying to push the image out of his mind, but it lingered, vivid and consuming.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he dropped onto the edge of the bed. His body felt too hot, too tense, like his skin didn’t fit right. He pressed his hands to his knees, taking deep breaths, but it didn’t help. The frustration inside him wasn’t just anger. It was something deeper, something raw and primal.

His thoughts spun faster, images of Sam flashing in his mind: the curve of her hips, the way her shirt had hugged her waist, the fire in her eyes when she’d talked back to Hank. It was infuriating, and yet… Drew groaned, leaning forward as his head sank into his hands. What the hell is wrong with me?

A sudden, sharp heat surged through his body, pulling his thoughts back to the present. His muscles felt tight, like they were straining against his skin, and when he looked down, his forearms seemed…bigger. His sleeves strained against his biceps, the fabric pulling taut.

“What the—” he breathed, standing up quickly. His boots hit the floor heavier than usual, and as he moved to the mirror on the far wall, he froze. His reflection looked…different. His shoulders were broader, his chest thicker, his frame carrying an undeniable weight and bulk that hadn’t been there an hour ago.

Drew ran a hand down his chest, feeling the hard lines of muscle under his shirt. His hand was rougher, his fingers thicker, and as he flexed them, he felt a strange satisfaction settle into his gut. His shirt strained against his back, the seams creaking slightly as his chest expanded further.

“What the hell is happenin’?” he muttered, but his voice sounded different…deeper, rougher, commanding.

Before he could dwell on it, a sound from the next room caught his attention. A soft moan, muffled but unmistakable. Drew stiffened, his pulse quickening. He moved toward the wall, his breath catching as another sound drifted through…this one sharper, higher.

Sam.

. . . . . . . . .

Sam entered her room, shutting the door behind her with shaky hands. Her body felt like it was on fire, every inch of her thrumming with an energy that was impossible to ignore. Her breathing was shallow, her legs trembling as she peeled off her fitted top and let it drop to the floor.

Her hands brushed over the small buds that had formed earlier, but as her fingers lingered, she could feel them swell, her flesh softening and rounding under her palms. Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip, both shocked and thrilled by the sensation. She cupped them fully now, the weight of her breasts growing heavier, the skin sensitive as her nipples hardened at the faintest touch.

She sank onto the edge of the mattress, her hands drifting down to her thighs. Her fingers traced over her skin, softer now, her curves more pronounced. She let out a soft moan as her hands slid further, brushing against the growing roundness of her hips, her waist pinching inward.

Her shorts felt tighter than they had moments ago, the fabric straining against her fuller thighs and her butt, which now pressed firmly into the mattress. She reached down, tugging the shorts off in a single motion, shivering as the cool air hit her skin. Her hands instinctively explored her body, gliding over her smooth thighs, the new curves of her hips, and the swell of her rear.  She squirmed with arousal.

As her fingers brushed against her wet slit, Sam gasped, the sensitivity there unlike anything she’d ever felt. Her back arched slightly, her chest heaving as her hand dipped lower, teasing the folds that were now fully formed, warm and slick with need. Her other hand rose to her chest, fingers circling her full, round breasts, squeezing and kneading them as her hips rocked instinctively.

. . . . . . . . .

The soft moans grew clearer, drifting into Drew’s room.He felt himself harden, his body responding before his mind even caught up. It was impossible to resist.  The sounds were pulling him in, and he couldn’t stop himself as he reached down, hand brushing against his erection. It felt thicker, fuller in his grasp, a surge of heat spreading through him as he stroked himself in time with each moan he heard from Sam’s room. 

. . . . . . . . .

Sam caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her flushed face framed by hair that now fell in soft waves around her shoulders. Her features had shifted subtly, her cheekbones higher, her lips fuller, her eyes wide and expressive. It was the kind of face that turned heads, the kind of face that exuded confidence and allure. She couldn’t look away, even as her fingers worked faster, exploring every inch of her new body.

Her hips bucked as her fingers slid inside her, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through her. She moaned loudly, her body trembling as the heat built higher, her movements more desperate. Her thighs quivered, the softness of her skin amplifying every touch, every stroke, until the pressure became too much to bear.

She let herself lean into the feeling, letting her hands roam, feeling out every inch of this body that was hers.  She didn’t care how loud she was being, the boys could think what they want.  She was going to enjoy this night.

. . . . . . . . .

Drew’s strokes became synchronized with Sam’s moans, each breath and whimper guiding his hand. The walls seemed too thin, every gasp and sigh fueling his desire further. His muscles tensed, a raw energy pulsing through his veins with each breath he took. He could feel his arms tighten, his chest, his legs.

. . . . . . . . .

When the climax hit, her body arched, her head tilting back as a loud, primal scream escaped her lips. Pleasure rolled through her in waves, leaving her gasping and trembling as she collapsed back onto the bed, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across her lips. 

. . . . . . . . .

The final, sharp cry from the other side of the wall broke him. Drew’s head tilted back, his eyes closing as a guttural groan tore from his throat. Heat surged through him like a wildfire, his body trembling as every muscle contracted at once. His jeans strained against his legs, his shirt pulling tight across his chest until he thought it might tear.

Drew sat there, staring at himself, his breaths steadying as a strange satisfaction settled over him. He was bigger now. His chest was broader, his arms thicker, his entire frame exuding a rugged power. The anger had melted away, leaving only the heat…and the lingering need to see Sam again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drew woke slowly, the morning light slipping through the window. His body felt…heavy. Solid. Good. As he blinked into awareness, he stretched, feeling muscles strain and relax beneath his skin, muscles he hadn’t had before. He felt…right in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Drew planted his feet on the floor, and the thud of his weight against the wood was audible. He looked down at his hands… larger, rougher, thick with strength he could feel pulsing under the skin. His gaze drifted to the mirror on the wall, and he rose, his movements sure and steady. When he saw his reflection, he couldn’t hold back a slow grin.

Broad shoulders, defined muscles, a rugged face shadowed with stubble. All of it looked back at him with a natural confidence, a swagger. As he took himself in, thoughts rose, unbidden and clear of long days of work under the sun, the satisfaction of hard labor, the thrill of chasing wild times, and, just as clearly, the tantalizing image of women watching him, drawn to him. Hot women, tempting him, and pleasuring him.

His mind latched onto these ideas with satisfaction. What else mattered, anyway? And one woman in particular drifted into his mind. Sam. The way she’d changed, the way she’d looked at him last night with that teasing, sassy edge in her voice.  It made his pulse quicken just to think about it. She’s mine to handle now, he thought, the idea lighting up something deep and primal in him.

As he glanced at the clothes draped over the chair.  A pair of worn jeans, a white shirt, sturdy boots, that were not there the night before.  The clothes fit him perfectly.  Last, he picked up his hat, settling it on his head with a grin. 

His mind drifted back to Sam, her laugh, her confidence, that bold look she’d given him. He wanted to see her. He wanted to see if she’d look at him with that same fire. He wanted to see what would happen next.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning sun was bright, casting a warm glow over the ranch as Drew’s gaze locked onto Sam by the fence. She stood there, her toned, tanned body framed by a tight, cropped top that barely covered her full, round breasts. Her midriff was bare, the curves of her waist and hips on full display above a pair of frayed, low-cut denim shorts that hugged her hips perfectly. A wide-brimmed cowboy hat shaded her face, though the fire in her eyes was unmistakable, and a teasing smile played on her full, glossy lips.

Sam turned, her smile widening as she saw him, her eyes traveling slowly up and down his body, openly admiring him in a way that drove him wild.

“Morning, cowboy,” she purred, her voice smooth and dripping with playful confidence. She stepped closer, her hips swaying, her hands casually resting on her thighs. “Didn’t think you’d be up this early, but I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

Drew swallowed, trying to find his voice. “Good company’s worth getting up for,” he replied, his voice rougher than usual, his pulse pounding as he closed the distance between them until they were just inches apart. He could feel her warmth, see the flush on her cheeks, and knew she was feeling the same pull he was.

“Good company, huh?” Sam raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Maybe I’m just here for the view.” She tilted her head, her eyes flicking over him in a way that made his chest tighten.

Drew didn’t waste time. He reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek, his fingers tracing along her jaw. Her skin was warm and soft, her eyes widening slightly as she met his intense gaze. “I think we both know you’re here for more than that,” he murmured, his voice low and steady as he traced his thumb along her cheekbone. He could feel her lean into his touch, her breathing quickening, her lips parting just slightly.

Sam didn’t pull away. “Maybe I am,” she murmured, her gaze locked on his. She raised a hand to his chest, her fingers pressing against him, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Without another word, Drew leaned in, capturing her mouth in a firm, hungry kiss. She responded immediately, her hands sliding up around his neck, pulling him closer. His grip tightened on her waist, his hands exploring her curves, feeling her hips, her bare midriff, the smooth skin beneath his fingertips. Her body fit perfectly against his, their breaths mixing as the kiss deepened.

He pulled back just slightly, their faces still close, their breathing heavy. “That’s how I start a morning,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

Sam looked up at him, her lips parted, her eyes dark with want. “Then don’t stop now, sugar,” she whispered back, her fingers curling around the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. “I’m right here.”

Drew didn’t need another invitation. His hand gripped her waist harder, pulling her tight against him as he kissed her again, harder this time, his hands sliding down to her hips, pressing her against him. Their shared passion built, and as they moved, he slid his hands up to the hem of her cropped top, tugging it over her head and tossing it aside, exposing her fully to him. She let out a soft gasp as he lifted her, guiding her back toward the nearby hay pile.

They sank down together, both of them fumbling to discard the rest of their clothes, each piece coming off in a hurry, laughter and heated breaths filling the air. Drew’s hands roamed over her bare skin, his lips trailing down her neck as he leaned into her. When he entered her, she let out a sharp, breathless moan, her hips pressing up to meet him, her nails digging into his back as she clung to him.

As their pace increased, her soft gasps turned into cries, filling the quiet morning with her pleasure. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer as she reached her peak, her body arching beneath him. She let out a final, triumphant scream, her whole body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Drew slowed, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at her, his breathing heavy. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low as he brushed a strand of hair from her face, letting his hand linger on her cheek, savoring the closeness between them.

Sam laughed softly, her smile softening as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with warmth. “Right back at you, cowboy.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun climbed higher as Drew and Sam worked side by side, shoveling hay and clearing out the horse pen. They didn’t talk much, but every now and then they’d glance at each other, sharing a quiet smile. Sometimes their hands brushed or their shoulders bumped, and each time, they’d grin a little wider, like they were in on the same joke.

Just as they finished, Hank walked over, a smirk on his face as he looked them over. He leaned against the fence, crossing his arms. “Well, look at you two,” he said, voice full of dry humor. “Looks like you’re gettin’ a real, authentic cowboy experience around here. Hope you’re enjoying yourselves.”

Drew rested his arm on his shovel, his other hand slipping casually to Sam’s back, his thumb rubbing along the fabric of her shirt. “Wouldn’t trade it for nothin’, Hank,” he replied, giving Hank a steady look.

Sam laughed softly, tilting her hat back. “Reckon this life fits us just right, don’t it?”

Hank chuckled, tipping his hat to them both. “Well, don’t let me interrupt,” he said, the hint of a smile in his eye. “But there’s plenty more work to go ‘round, just so you know.” With that, he turned and headed back toward the barn.

As he left, Sam turned to Drew, her eyes warm as she looked up at him, still smiling. Drew slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her close, his touch firm but gentle. They looked at each other for a beat, and then he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in an easy, unhurried kiss.

When they pulled back, they were both still smiling. For a moment, they just stayed there, holding onto each other before getting back to work.

[redtsundere-writes]

mma fighter!sukuna ryomen x femalecoach!reader

Part 8. Fight For Me.

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Summary: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Sukuna being Sukuna. Female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Warnings: Cursed words. Unethical violence. Sexual harassment. I only read it once, lmao Word count: 2927 words. A/N: Another Saturday, another chapter. I picked up studying Japanese again, so far so good. Any advice is welcome :) Hope you guys like today's chapter. :) Btw I made a PLAYLIST

That was the most uncomfortable morning of my life. I can’t get the idea that I fell asleep in Sukuna's bed like it was nothing out of my head. All I could do was to get dressed quickly to get back to my house before the morning training started. Luckily, I didn't see Sukuna on my way out, maybe he slept in the guest room… or so I thought. His penthouse was huge, there must have been an extra room for sure. Upon arriving at the gym, Sukuna just scolded me for being late as if nothing happened last night, so I acted accordingly. 

Cheers and praises flooded the arena as soon as Sukuna's anthem began booming over the speakers. Even though it was the last fight of the night, this was just starting. The sound mitigated with every step we took upon the intimidating octagon where Naoya was waiting for us after making his grand entrance. I was so nervous I felt like I was going to throw up at any moment, but I had to stay strong. This was not the time to act like a coward. 

The referee checked Sukuna's gloves and body for sandbags or anything out of place. During the inspection, Sukuna gave me a serious glare. He looked so calm for someone who was about to be locked in a cage to fight another beast his size. I had interrupted Naoya's lucky ritual and helped him perform his luck ritual successfully. He was sure he was going to win, but he couldn't let his guard down. 

Sukuna stepped onto the big stage and jogged around the perimeter so that everyone could admire his greatness. Naoya instead of watching him to analyze his opponent, was focused on me. His eyes were looking at me through the black fence, conveying a message I did not want to decipher. Sukuna had to beat him if I didn't want him to escape from the cage and lock me in his clutches. I gulped hard as soon as the referee approached them to give them the basic rules. It was time. I closed my eyes to pray to all the deities of the constellations, crossed my fingers and wondered if Sukuna's zodiac sign was lucky today. 

The bell rang and the first round began. People shouted in anticipation as the tiger engaged the cheetah in a dangerous dance for dominance. As we had planned, Sukuna was taking his time with him. He was waiting for our common enemy to feel comfortable enough to approach him. Naoya took the bait as he slammed in on him with a pair of jabs, he was going right at his jaw to end the fight. “He looks different,” I thought as I watched him attack Sukuna without hesitation. He was desperate to win as fast as possible, even if that meant throwing away all his energy in the first round. 

Everything was being decided by boxing in the first two rounds, so far, we were going according to plan. Sukuna was like a fish in water, dodging every punch he landed and landing a couple of jabs that connected perfectly with his body, while Naoya struggled to take him down. There was a minute left in the third round when Naoya knocked Sukuna down with a spinning kick. The cheetah turned into a dangerous boa that attached itself to his body mercilessly. Its legs wrapped around his waist to put him in a neck lock. Sukuna tried to pull away from the cheetah's grip with hopeless punches and kicks, but Naoya wasn't about to let it go so easily. 

“Hold on, Sukuna!” I yelled in desperation amidst the howls of the fans. 

I looked at the clock hoping that the seconds would pass quickly, but it felt like an eternity. Sukuna was pushing away with difficulty the arm that chained his neck to keep from fainting. My eyes were on the verge of tears, the champion could not lose, not today. 

The bell rang, and the fighters walked away. I sighed in relief and rushed up to the octagon with Gojo and Yuuji to assist him in the break. Gojo put ice on his shoulder and Yuuji gave him water. 

“Change of plans. We must go to the floor,” I said. 

“What?” Sukuna asked me, taking off his mouth guard. 

“Naoya is desperate. He wants to win at any cost, it seems that this time he doesn't want to leave it to the judges. This is your chance to use his attacks against him,” I explained, but Sukuna didn't seem to be convinced. 

“I agree. He is fighting differently from before. Use your legs, they are longer than his,” Gojo intervened. With that, Sukuna nodded before the next round was announced by a beautiful ring girl. 

Naoya's eyes were on me as he prepared for the next round. I returned her gaze in kind, I wasn't going to let him bully me just because. The bell announced the fourth round and my eyes returned to Sukuna. After a back and forth of punches and low kicks, Naoya went straight at him. Naoya knocked him down, pushing him by the shoulders. Sukuna fell backwards with a loud thud. This time, time wasn't going to stop him. I had seen this attack before. 

“Push him with your legs!” I yelled so he could hear me as I ran around the perimeter of the octagon to get a better angle on the attack. 

Sukuna understood what I meant. With the inertia of Naoya's attack, Sukuna pushed him by the abdomen. I thought he would push him away, instead, he grabbed him by the arms and lifted him up to have him at his mercy for a couple of seconds in the air. I could see Naoya's eyes as he realized he had screwed up. Sukuna threw him to turn him like a helicopter propeller to put his leg between his arms and whip him against the floor. He caged him between his legs and kept pulling him by his limb to keep Naoya in a headlock. 

“Sukuna…” I mumbled in shock. 

Naoya was hitting him by the legs while trying to free his trapped arm. The referee was asking Naoya to get out of it quickly, or he was going to call the fight over. Time paused again as the scene unfolded before me. A king demonstrating his power to a rebellious knight. I no longer heard the people, nor my team, nor my thoughts. It was just my eyes taking in the facts, tasting those uncertain moments. 

Naoya was completely trapped, so the referee announced the end of the fight. I caught my breath and came back to my senses at the decision. Sukuna broke away from Naoya and slowly stood up to regain his posture. He looked at me through the fence and gave me a slight smirk. “Mothafucker did it,” I thought before a tear of happiness slipped down my cheek. We had won, I was free and the champion proved himself the best once again. 

I met up with the team to go up to the octagon to celebrate the victory. I moved through the crowd to give him a sweaty bear hug. I wanted to congratulate him, and thank him for giving his best as always, but I was so happy the words wouldn't come out of my mouth. I could only cry of joy on his shoulder. 

“Stop crying like a bitch,” he whispered between chiding teeth as he wiped my face with the towel around his neck. 

“Can’t I be happy?!” I scolded him between sniffles. 

“You're humiliating me. I can't have a crybaby of a coach,” he complained. 

“I'm not…!”

My eyes popped open as soon as Sukuna connected his lips with mine in a sweet kiss in front of everyone. My cheeks turned the color of his hair and my heart started beating like crazy from shock. It was not a passionate kiss as he usually kisses me in the secrecy of his ritual, it was a tender touch in the middle of an octagon full of fighters and cameras watching us. Our lips didn't last more than 5 seconds connected, but it felt like it lasted an eternity. 

The sharp sound of something metallic woke me up from the moment. Naoya had hit Sukuna in the head with his metal water bottle before anyone could stop him. The arena gasped in shock at the unsportsmanlike attitude. Team Zen’in pulled him back before he could land another misplaced blow. Yuuji, Gojo and Nanami lashed out at him and his coach for not being able to control their athlete. 

“How dare you kiss what's mine?! Let’s get back together, y/n!” Naoya screamed in a tantrum as he tried to break free from the grip of his teammates. 

“Are you okay?” I asked Sukuna worriedly as I put some ice on his bump. 

“Yes, I feel better now,” he said with a proud smile as he watched Naoya in emotional agony. 

“Naoya Zenin will appear before the official UFC committee for lack of discipline and unsportsmanlike attitude tomorrow afternoon for his actions after tonight's fight, but there are already rumors that he will be suspended for more than a year from all events,” The commentator announced. 

Team Black howled with joy at the news. My heart had finally calmed down after drinking a nice beer and chatting for a while with Yuuji and Megumi at the same bar we came last time. My mind was finally resting at peace after Sukuna beat up Naoya and explained to Nanami that the kiss had only been to get Naoya off his nerves. “Relax, that kiss didn't mean anything, it was just part of the strategy,” I thought as I remembered how intense that unexpected contact felt. 

“Aren't you supposed to be with the Zen’ins? Aren't they family?” I asked Megumi curiously to distract my mind from the strong palpitations of my passionate heart. 

“More or less. My father was kicked out of the dojo as soon as he challenged my uncle Naobito and beat him. The family could not bear such a breach of family honor,” Megumi explained, not caring at all about the incident. “I never thought that Sukuna could lift Naoya with his body, it was really incredible. Did you teach him that move?” He asked me before taking a sip of her beer. 

I looked briefly at Sukuna who was chatting pleasantly with Nanami on the other side of the table. Quickly, he noticed that I was watching him. I turned around in time so that he wouldn't think I had been watching him for a long time and that we had only connected casual glances. “Why am I thinking like a lovesick teenager?” I scolded myself.

“I didn't know he could do that either,” I agreed, to which Megumi looked at me strangely.

After a stressful day and a couple of drinks to counteract the body ailment. I said goodbye to everyone and set out to head home under the midnight stars. I smiled to myself as I replayed in my mind how Sukuna had cornered Naoya against the canvas. The sound of his bare back impacting hard played in my mind on loop. It had been a lousy day, but an incredible night I would never forget. 

“Where are you going?” someone asked behind me. I could recognize Sukuna's voice anywhere in the world. 

“Home, to rest,” I answered as I faced him fully. Why had he followed me? Whatever the reason, we were alone on the sidewalk, it was the right time to tell him how I felt. “You did amazing tonight, thank you very much.” 

“I just did my job, I didn't do it for you,” he said with that serious tone I knew so well by now, he purposely made it sound like he was annoyed. 

“I know you didn't do it for me, but I still want you to know that I owe you one,” I joked.

He didn't hesitate to approach me, I thought he would give me a hug or another kiss, so I just froze in place. Instead, he just handed me a silver key with a Team Black keychain on it. I inspected it carefully as I twirled it between my fingers. 

“You are going to live with me, starting tonight,” he announced as if it was nothing. 

“What?! Why?!” I was really confused.

“Naoya will probably be suspended from the UFC tomorrow and have to pay a stupidly expensive fine. Guess who he's going to blame for that,” I explained. 

“You?” I really didn't want to blame myself right now. 

“Do you really think he'd try to come near me after I beat him up on the ring? And I was fighting under the rules,” Sukuna smiled proud of himself for his performance in the fight. 

“Naoya promised me that…". 

“Naoya promised you that he would love you forever and not hurt you and look where you are. Just because you're innocent doesn't mean you have to be stupid,” Sukuna interrupted me and then turned his back to me. “You better be home by the time I get back,” he demanded before going back to the bar.

“Hey! Sukuna! What about my stuff?!” I shouted for him to stop, but he ignored me and walked into the bar without saying anything else. 

I stood still on the sidewalk while my fingers caressed the keychain. How could someone be so nice and scary at the same time? It was obvious that Sukuna wanted me to be safe, but the way he did it felt like he was doing me a favor instead of actually wanting to help me. “He wants to protect me,” I thought as I realized what he was doing. My heart skipped a beat even though he was no longer in my presence and my cheeks dyed pink just thinking about him. 

“Sukuna sure is a strange man…” I thought out loud as I went on my way to the penthouse. 

Even though I had entered his home before, I couldn't help but be surprised as I walked down the huge carpeted hallway. I arrived in the immense living room that shared the professional kitchen, the 12-person wooden dining room and the contemporary living room surrounded by huge windows that allowed me to see the entire city glowing in the dark night. What it's like to have all the money in the world. 

“I think I'll sleep in the guest room,” I said aloud to test the echo of my new home. “First I must find the guest room,” I planned as I looked at the maze I would be living in.

I avoided the entrance doors because I knew that one of them was Sukuna's room, so I had to go up to the second floor. When I got to the top, I could see through the large windows the indoor pool on the first floor, the bar with karaoke and the small zen garden that divided the rooms. “What songs will he like to sing?” I wondered curiously as I continued my search for my room. A little smile escaped my lips as I imagined Sukuna singing Single Ladies by Beyoncé.

I had finally found the guest room. It had a king-size bed with beige sheets, a small couch to watch TV, its own bathroom and a large empty closet. I dropped my backpack on the small white couch and headed for bed. Before I could throw myself out of exhaustion, I noticed a Victoria's Secret bag at the foot of the bed. My eyes widened as I realized the real reason Sukuna wanted me to come to his house. 

“That fucker is planning to fuck me tonight!” I exclaimed, offended. 

I couldn't believe it, I was really stupid for thinking that Sukuna wanted to protect me. I had escaped from the Zen’in just to face a Ryomen. I am so naive for thinking he was different, but he was just another disgusting man who can't see women as equals. I really wanted him to be different. He only fucked me twice, and he already assumes he can do it whenever he wants. I wasn't going to let him. 

I took the things out of the bag to throw it in the trash, but stopped when I saw that it wasn't lingerie, it was a full set of satin pajamas. White pajamas with pink stripes in my size. I covered my face with it from embarrassment. I had misjudged Sukuna, he sure bought me pajamas after I fell asleep naked in his bed the night before. I took off my clothes to put on the soft and comfortable pajamas, they fit me like a glove. I smiled like a fool when I saw myself in the mirror. 

“How cute…” I thought out loud before throwing myself on the bed comfortably. 

Oh.

Quickly, I realized what I had said and stood still, staring at the white glitter ceiling. Did I just say Sukuna was cute? No, he couldn't be. He is a rude, selfish, impatient, serious, self"confident, independent, disciplined, strong, handsome, rich man… I couldn't fall in love with him. I was his coach, his co-worker. I couldn't like him because he has an amazing body, takes care of me even if he doesn't want to admit it, and kisses me like no one else ever has, right? Right?! 

Oh.

I was in trouble. 

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Masterlist.

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[lucrativesoul]

Espionage

summary: working in an underground crime syndicate, your job gets risky, but, the more risk, the more reward. you jumped the gun on your thievery through an art museum, and come across one certain guard who is adamant on stopping you in your path.

pairing: guard!leon kennedy x female reader

word count: 11.5k

warnings: smut, fingering, choking, slight degradation, dom leon

a/n: yall know i had to do one with tactical gear leon i mean come onnnn look at him!!! (patrick voice) i went a little wild with this one LOL i really thought it was gonna be my shortest work yet and here we are. the plot of this was inspired by Death Prefers Blondes by Caleb Roehrig! if you guys liked the idea of our mc's job here, i suggest you check out that book, its a really great young adult read! i had so much fun with this one, i really hope i didn't keep you guys waiting. i hope you enjoy, thank you endlessly for the support, and I will see you soon :)

Taking a deep sigh, you reclined yourself back as far as you could in the stiff chair, which wasn’t much. The light above you was flickering, to your annoyance, but you kept quiet about it, focusing instead on the rapid typing on the keyboard from the man in front of you. The room was cold, and you pulled your sweatshirt tighter around you. You knew to come prepared this time.

You hoped you would get out of here before the traffic rush. You hated having to come all the way out here, but, after all, it was your job.

To explain how you came into this would take too long, as you tell everyone, so simply put: Some connections in your life led to other connections, and those connections allowed you to quit your two part time jobs and become a full time criminal. Literally.

You met this man, Carlos, at the gym where you liked to spar with some of the trainers when they weren’t in sessions. Simulating a fight was not something you had expected to find a lot of entertainment in, but when you got up there in front of someone and were forced to defend yourself with blocks and punches and kicks, it introduced a whole new adrenaline into your world. Keeping up with your physical shape had definitely aided in your ability to be nimble, and your history of (attempted) gym consistency helped build muscle. 

Carlos had pulled you aside after a sparring session with another trainer, impressed by your moves, and had told you he wants to see you put it to the real test. He offered you a spot in the gym he frequented (which was, to your horror at first, the sketchiest building you had ever seen in your life from the outside), paired you with a trainer who wasn’t afraid to throw real punches, and before you knew it, you could fight an array of builds and heights. 

From there, you kept talking to people who knew people who knew Carlos, and he weaseled you into his line of work where he trusted you to go on the scene of whatever was the target, and sold all of your loot. He was your fence, you were his robber. Quite simply.

A real threat of danger hung over your head on every job, and you knew this well enough. There was always the chance of getting caught, considering every location had guards 24/7. There was always a chance you could get hurt; fall from a high location, the failure of equipment, get shot for fucks sake, but you loved the adrenaline it gave you. You felt on top of the world, and in the back of your mind, you knew this would surely be considered an addiction, but you didn’t care. Every new job upped the ante, and you needed more.

The second deep breath you took expanded your lungs, the stretch feeling good after not moving for several minutes now. You rolled your head side to side, hearing the crack, and turned your attention back to Carlos, who finally started talking again.

“I have buyers in Europe lined up for these.” He looked down at the desk, an array of shiny stones and metals bent in intricate shapes and chains laid out in front of him. Courtesy of yours truly. “A few are interested in the same piece, but they can argue with themselves, I’m only going to sell it to them, I’m not the mediator.” He sighed and pushed back in his rolling chair, pulling open a file cabinet and a manila folder.

“Where in Europe? Can we hand deliver?” You couldn’t help but grin slightly, and Carlos didn’t have to look up from his papers to know you were.

He shrugged. “If you want to risk receiving a chest cavity the size of a gold ball, knock yourself out.” He knew you were joking, and you knew the rules well enough. Knowing who your buyers were, and going within any sort of vicinity of them while knowing their identity was strictly off limits. He turned his head towards his computer again. “Venice. Nice.” He turned towards you. “Budapest. The usual.”

You nodded. You were expecting some sort of answer along the lines of that, so it wasn't too much of a surprise to you. Oh, how it would be nice to be in Europe, though.

“Here’s the deal.” Carlos put the folder of papers down in front of you, and you lazily scanned it, knowing that most of it was going to look like gibberish anyways. Carlos was the man in between here, you simply stole things. You didn’t deal with the numbers and the logistics. “The man who is in the battle for our largest emerald is willing to step aside and let our Venetian buyer take the cake, because he reached out with another job that he and only he wants to be in the running for.”

You scoffed. “Dude must be loaded then. A solo job?”

Carlos cocked an eyebrow. “He gave me parameters for the job, and I almost turned him down without even running it by you, to be honest.”

You sat up straight. “The fuck, Carlos? Give it to me, I can take it.”

He sighed and slouched back in his chair. You were honestly surprised that Carlos was not the one in your spot. He was insanely built and could easily take down four armed guards at once, but you never found out why he chose to be behind the scenes. At least you knew he trusted you enough not to put you in anything that would be instant death.

“There’s apparently an heirloom to this guy’s lineage sitting in a chamber room of the gallery downtown. He’s been trying to find a means to reach it and claim it back for years, but, according to him, the museum won’t budge on letting him anywhere near a buying price.”

You let his words sink in. “What’s so bad about that?”

Carlos sighed again. “It’s an art gallery.” He stared at you, waiting for you to get the point. “They have armed guards posted day in and day out. Alarms at every possible entrance and cameras watching every square inch of the place. It’s just not feasible.”

You shook your head. “Carlos, come on. I know you have access to the technical means that we need to do our surveillance. We can watch their route. We can track who does what nights and who might be the easiest to take down. I did that at the villa two weeks ago.” 

“Yes, and you nearly lost your life. I was shooting myself in the foot for putting you out there.”

You shook your head again. Part of you was thankful that Carlos had the decency to regret his decision of accepting that job, and feeling remorse once you reported back that one of the bodyguards had you in a near death chokehold before you managed to, by luck, weasel free. Even you were still haunted by that. But you would never let it slow you down, and would never tell Carlos, as he would surely put you in safer locations. Which meant less fun.

“I’m just saying, now that it’s been done, I can do it again. And be careful about it this time. I want to do this Carlos, I believe I can.”

Carlos was silent for a moment, thinking over your words. He sighed.

“I want our people staking out on the perimeter the whole time. I don’t want to hear objections. There will be a team this time, this is not just somebody’s home. This is government and city property, if you don’t die, you and I are as good as dead in the prison system.”

You quirked a small smile. “Come on Carlos.” He lazily held eye contact. “You think I’d rat you out like that?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, but you could tell he was fighting the urge to smile as well. “Be back here tomorrow at 12. We’ll start our prep.”

–

You, Carlos, and two other men were huddled around a plethora of screens deep in the trenches of Carlos’ office. One of the monitors had split screen CCTV surveillance, six cameras watching the main galleries and two hallways, one was a datamine of the encrypted content regarding the people employed to stand guard at the museum, and the others were floor plans of each floor and wing of the gallery.

The size of the place didn’t scare you, in fact, it only brought more excitement to your job. As soon as Carlos brought up the blueprints and started mapping escape routes and how to avoid camera sightings, you memorized it instantly. This would be a breeze.

“Here’s who we need to look out for.” He drew up a site that had profiles of each of the seven guards that do night duty. Their employee photos looked like mugshots. “These three guys guard the east wing, these two rotate between west wing and foyer since that is the smallest wing and closer to the entrance, and these two are usually staked out by the rear gallery.”

“You seem to already have this down, Carlos.” You mumbled.

He snickered from in front of you. “I’ve been watching already.”

You sighed through your nose. “Going to turn down this job my ass.”

“We’re expecting these two to be in the west wing the night of the heist. I’ve been watching, and they tend to rotate, but there’s a pattern. I’m sure it will be them.” You nodded, listening closely to his words. Carlos might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but you knew he didn’t mess around with ensuring the best possible route. “One stands in the wing while the other stands in the foyer. They rotate at the same time, so there is a small window when no one is watching the far end of the gallery.”

“How am I getting in there? Hanging out overnight?” It was a partial joke, but you never knew with this team. 

Carlos shook his head, and diverted everyone’s attention to an isolated map, similar to the layout of the floor plan. “This is the duct system.” You stifled a laugh. You should have expected this. “Big enough for a person like you. The duct room is locked whenever no one is accessing them, and the only people that do are the janitorial team, and Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday are the only times they are sweeping the building.”

“Literally, sweeping.” 

Carlos sighed heavily at your remark. “The system that is connected to the electronic lock is also connected to what controls the cameras and the lights. I can get you in there, but only in a very small window of time. It needs to be during the day.”

“The day.” You echoed. “So, I’ll be camped out in there for a while, then?”

Carlos nodded. You knew what you were about to get yourself into. It came with the job description, and before the job actually launched into action, you knew that familiar feeling of anxiety blossoming in your chest. You had been in the gym consistently, trying to find someone to mock a chokehold with you in the case that it happened all over again. If it did, you decided Carlos didn't need to find out.

You knew you were physically ready. The odds of going against a huge man didn't look great from the outside, but you were flexible, and fast, and if you could bounce around their sights, you could steer clear of any sort of altercations.

“Yes, you’ll be in there for a while. It’s the only way.” You nodded again. You knew there was no such thing as comfort in this line of work. If you get too comfortable, you might as well get ready to be comfortable in a jail cell, or in the afterlife. “We move in Thursday night. Just to be sure that the cleaning happens Wednesday and we won't get any surprises. You’ll enter at 4 PM. I’ll be watching all morning to decide what you should wear to make the least waves possible and so you can disappear when they close at 6. Regular day employees stay until 7:30, then the guards move in, but we can’t make our moves until well after sunset.” Carlos was looking mostly at you, as the other teammates he rounded up were just going to stake out the perimeter. “You know the prep. Make sure you last while you wait.”

–

You spent the next week in the office watching everyone’s moves. The guards followed a monotonous routine in which areas they patrolled. Odd, considering they might want to watch for corners where people could stay hidden. 

They all stuck to their schedules, no employee stayed later than an hour and a half after closing, guards immediately did a sweep of the whole building for the lame thieves who attempted to hide in bathrooms, before they stuck to their positions, and that’s where they stayed for the night, until 5 AM. You were positive you had this down now, there was no way you could be wrong.

There was, of course, but you preferred to pretend otherwise.

The guards rotated as predicted, and with every step they took every passing day you grew more confident in this job. That person who was commissioning this should be well willing to tip generously considering the amount of prep taking place.

You swallowed the lump of anxious nerves, pushing yourself into your work mindset as you sat outside the museum, the breeze cooling down your heated skin. Carlos had been keeping watch of the patrons since opening, and he concluded the appropriate outfit for you to don would be a tan hoodie, light wash jeans, and you didn’t have many options in the way for shoes, a simple pair of white sneakers having to do the trick. You knew they would be watching at the door, a metal detector as well as bag checks were mandatory, so you couldn’t risk a bag, but you had all you needed strapped underneath your clothes to your second skin layer– a skintight bodysuit, equipped with maximum breathability and flexibility– and all of your weapons holstered as close as they could get.

With nothing else except your phone (which was off) and wallet (with a fake ID), you walked up the steps, blending in with the bustle, but knowing well enough to not look too suspicious. You knew the rest of your team was around the perimeter, out of your view, and you were going to hear from Carlos for the first time when it was necessary for you to hide. He was never on location, he was seated safely in his office, every screen lit up with hacked CCTV footage and an in-ear device to communicate directly to you.

You took yet another deep breath in. You got this. You had to.

You knew you had time to kill while you waited to hear from Carlos. It couldn’t be right away, that would look too unnatural if you made a beeline past too many priceless works of art. So, not begrudgingly, you strolled through the galleries, admiring the timeless art, feeling inspired, excited, the sun streaming in through the glass ceilings of some of the halls.

It was mostly quiet, the murmur of people surrounding you, discussing what they were looking at, the occasional kid running by. As much of an admirer you were, you could feel the adrenaline coursing through your arms and hands, dying to get started. But, as Carlos taught you well, patience was a virtue, and if you rushed things, it could get bad, and fast.

After a lap, which lasted close to an hour, you sat on a bench in the west wing. You knew this was close to where you needed to be, and it would be easier to stay close in case the window of opportunity arose when you weren’t expecting it, which was typical. 

You toyed around with a pamphlet you had picked up near the entrance, still keeping an eye out for any employee, or any guard, which would be out of place at this time. It was nearing 5:30 now, and they were going to be closing in 30 minutes. Your heart rate quickened at that thought, knowing they were going to be sending employees to do loops and tell people their time was being cut short. You slowly straightened your posture, trying not to look too alert, trying to calm down–

“--in, come in. Connected to base, CCTV footage overrode, stations manned.” You heard Carlos’ crackly voice through your in-ear, and you slumped backward, relieved.

“Copy.” You kept your voice low and mouth movements to a minimum. “I assume you know where I’m at.”

“Bench in the back left of the west wing. The duct room is also being watched. It has been looking clear for the last ten minutes, give me another five to make sure, then I will give you instructions.”

You gave a slight nod, knowing he could see you. You kept up your previous charades, reading the same script for the fifth time on the pamphlet, people watching, and employee watching. The next five minutes took way too long.

“Get up slowly and walk along the wall to the left. Someone is coming down the hallway telling people there is 20 minutes to closing. Let him pass you, acknowledge what he said, and let him get about 20 feet ahead.” You shifted in your seat, pushing yourself up. Taking another look at the paintings hung on the walls, you realized as you approached– this was the one you were meant to take. You were so tempted to stand here and look at it, but you didn’t want to draw a suspicious coincidence in the mind of the employee who would see you standing in front of it. One glance later, and you moved on.

“Excuse me,” A soft voice spoke from behind you. You turned around, and acted surprised. A short man with dark hair had a friendly smile on. “The gallery will be closing in 20 minutes, just a heads up.” You nodded a thank you, and promised to move on swiftly.

“Ten seconds, then when you walk through the aisle in between the columns, there’s a hallway to the left. You’ll have a really small window to duck into the door on the left side and wait while I override the door code.”

“Code?!” You whisper-shouted, taking care to keep your voice low. “This should have been something you told me earlier.” 

“Don’t worry, I have access to it and can let you in. It will only take one more second, but you have to be quick with this door, you know that.” You sighed, knowing he was right. Your steps were quiet, but firm, and you caught sight of the small hallway he was talking about. “There’s no one behind you, but we can’t guarantee that’s permanent.” Oh, yes, you knew that was the truth. You wanted to turn around, but fought against it, not wanting to catch anyone’s eye.

Step, breath, step… “Go, now, hurry.” You careened quickly to the left into the hallway, knowing anyone would notice you if they walked by. “Two seconds…” Carlos configured the software to the door’s electronic lock as you approached and stood there, heart hammering. You pulled your sleeve over your hand. You heard the click. “You’re in, move.” You pushed down on the door handle with your sleeved hand and creeped into the room, wasting no time in shutting the door. You waited for the command before you moved. “You made it blindly. No one noticed you.” You sighed gently. “To your left, there's a switch. Flip the one in the middle. It’s the nightlight.”

You did as told, relaxing slightly now that you could see. The room looked exactly as expected. It was more of a closet, really. There was an electric panel on the wall opposite the door, a rack of cleaning supplies to the right, and in the left corner across from you, a large duct sock extending from a fixture that was taller than you. You had no idea where it led to, as it disappeared up into the ceiling, but you had a feeling that’s where you were destined to spend the next handful of hours.

You took your time inspecting the room, knowing there was going to be nothing quick about this next step. Behind the large fixture that filtered the air and sent it through the duct, there was a small passageway blocked by a vent grate. Carlos had told you vis in-ear to unscrew the large grate and tuck yourself in there. At least it was right next to the cooling system, and you could shed some layers. It would get hot, and quickly, in there.

Time ticked by slower than ever as you were stretched out in the vent, now loose from your jeans and sweatshirt. Your bodysuit was keeping you cool, and you managed your breathing whenever you remembered so you would be able to keep your core temperature as stable as possible. You ran over the plan once, twice, a thousand times, and maybe even drifted off once or twice, by the time you heard Carlos’ voice again, sounding angelic after all this time.

“Hey, you awake in there?” His soft, crackled voice sounded through your brain.

“As ever. What’s the time?” You whispered back, shocked at how far the smallest vocal sound carried through the metal tube.

“Close to 11PM. We have to get moving soon.” You nodded, knowing he couldn’t see you.

“Can I push this thing open? Can someone hear me from here?”

“Give me two seconds, I need to make sure I can disable central control of the cameras so no one else watching security can see. We don’t need any unnecessary backup here.” You let Carlos do his thing from base, and tried your best to stretch your limbs getting ready to move. “Okay, this will take a few minutes, but in thirty seconds, the rotation from west wing to foyer is going to start. Countdown, then crawl out as carefully as possible.”

Breathing steadily, countdown rapidly ticking in your head, you started at thirty, gripping the grate as much as you could once you hit one, and pushed outwards. You had managed to click the metal back in place behind you once you crawled in, but it wasn’t the most subtle sound. Now, it counted even more that it was timed right.

With a solid shove and a louder than you expected click (and a wince), and shimmied your way out of the vent, placing the metal onto the ground with the slowness of a turtle. You had no idea if anyone was going to open the door to this right now, so you just had to trust that the silence from Carlos meant that nothing was about to go wrong.

You stood up, sighing deeply when you could finally stretch out before getting to move for the first time in nearly 6 hours. The spandex of your bodysuit contoured with your body, and you felt unrestrained as you stretched out, ready to be as light on your feet as possible. There was a small holster on your thigh, where a retractable baton was strapped in tight, and one around your waist, holding onto three tiny knives– stainless steel– the closest thing that would get you through the detectors without being flagged. Fingers crossed they wouldn't need to be used.

“The rotation just finished, so in about ten more minutes, our window will open for you to come out and stay hidden. Remember where all the sculptures are layed out?”

“Yeah, I do.” You continued to stretch through Carlos’ words. “I’m ducking out of here at your command, softly shutting the door. I come quietly to the opening of the hallway and duck out to the right, hide behind a column and stay low.” You recited again, and heard Carlos give a hum of approval. 

“Just hang tight for now, I’ll let you know when you need to start moving. Security override is almost done. Remember, they’re gonna try and reboot the system immediately, which will take another minimum five minutes, max ten. Be light on your feet, move fast.”

You steadied your breathing once again, flexing everything in your body to make sure you were adequately stretched out and ready for action. You had never felt more so. 

“Exit the room in twenty seconds. Start counting.”

You pounced on your feet at the sound of Carlos’ voice after a few minutes, gloves on your hands (which had also been hidden in a pocket of the bodysuit), and gripped the handle, counting just to the pace you had been trained to.

“Move.”

You and Carlos reached the countdown at the same time, and you pressed the metal handle down and inched the door open, swiftly, but not enough to cause the hinges to make noise. You slithered out, and once you had the door shut again without a sound, you dropped down onto your knees, walking in a crouch to the entrance of the gallery.

You were hidden immediately by a column. You peeked out, knowing there wouldn’t be a guard in the aisle but checking anyway, and waddled over to the next column, feeling your heart rate increase with every step. Peeking around, you spotted the guard, who was walking slowly towards the middle of the west wing. He had his hands by his sides, gun holstered on his hip. Not much more than an average cop’s bulletproof vest on his body.

You waited for him to reach the center and do a lazy turn, back towards you, to run to the next column. Time was ticking, but as long as he stayed right where he was, you would be able to secure this artwork and disappear.

You reached the next column, and the next, all the while the guard was still turned, and you ducked back whenever he did a mandatory sweep of the area behind him. You could see the painting you needed from your current position. If Carlos had it under control, he could stifle the alarm system at the very second you used one of the knives to cut the cords and rip it from his ceiling holsters. You could tell on your first walk by this afternoon that it was nothing more than a heavy fishing wire, and it could be done soundlessly.

One more column, and you could see the guard from your hunched over position. You were pretty well hidden behind the column itself and a sculpture sat in front, and slightly to the left of it. You heard him sniffle, and shift his weight again before turning around, and crouch-running to the column that sat just to the right of the painting. This was it.

You had your head parked solidly right behind the column, watching the guard. He was still facing you, looking up at the ceiling, down all the obvious passageways, and then he turned. It was now or never.

You creeped forward, hand over the knife on your holster, ready to slice through the cord on the wall. You were waiting for Carlos’ sign that the alarms had been disabled. Nothing, but you had no time to wait. You had to try it.

You pulled the knife from the holster and pushed the blade out, gloved hand gripping the frame, and in two swift movements, the wires giving a slight shing with the cut, it was loose, no alarms, and you dropped back to the ground and ran.

Taking the same caution on the way back as you did on the way over, you stopped at columns to watch the guards, and by the tell-tale sign of him stalking forward once, you knew the rotation was about to happen.

You grew closer and closer back to the duct room; through the vents as your only way out. 

Taking the opportunity of no guard in the hall, you went as fast as you could in a crouch, seeing the opening for the hallway mere feet away. It was home free. Another job done.

Still in the clear, your heart hammering, you dove forward into the hallway, not wasting anymore time. You reached the hallway, turned the corner, and found yourself staring straight into the barrel of a gun.

Stopping short, nearly screaming out, you could only stare as you tried to identify the person behind it. You couldn’t move, your limbs were frozen in place. You could not hear Carlos, you didn’t even know if he saw you cut the line. He had the alarms disabled, clearly, but where was he? And who was this man?

You couldn’t see the bottom half of his face. Behind the large gun he had pointed at you, he had  a black neck gaiter covering from his nose down. His eyes were hard, eyebrows deeply furrowed, they looked blue in the dim light. His blonde hair was pushed off his forehead, stiff with gel. He was covered neck to feet in gear, a large, bulletproof vest and cargo pants, not another inch of skin showing. He was crouching to your height. Clearly, he knew you would be coming back here. What the fuck was going on?

He tilted his head in a mocking gesture at you, making fun of your momentary stupidity. You wanted to fight, but you knew better. If you drew attention now, you would be vastly overpowered very quickly. 

“Looking for an easy escape?” His voice was deep and husky, and for a moment you thought this was someone on your team. But no, they were told strictly to stay outside under all circumstances. This was not someone trying to help you. He was trying to capture you.

“Who are you?” You whispered, praying that Carlos was listening, feeling more panicked that you couldn’t hear him.

He shook his head. He was not in the mood to be courteous. “Go to the door behind me to my left. If you make noise, I’ll kill you. If you fight, I’ll kill you. Go,”

Your breath hitched, you could fight him with a knife, but with the barrel aimed straight for your brain, it was no use trying right now. You needed a plan, and quick. But for now, you had to obey.

Your legs felt like jelly as you stayed low and walked over to the door, the stranger backing up and keeping his gun trained on you the whole time. When you approached it, you stood up, looking back at him. He nudged his gun forward in a go in gesture, and with a deep breath, you quietly pushed the handle downwards and walked in.

This was not the duct room, which was the door on the other side of the hallway. Why had you not seen this door, why did Carlos also not seem to know about this door? When you walked in, you for real almost choked this time, it was the goddamn control room. The very one that Carlos had overridden to let you get into the museum after hours in the first place. Oh, you were fucked.

“You thought you had it all planned, huh? I’ve been sitting here this whole goddamn time watching you. I saw you walk in, I saw you sit down, I saw you go into the hallway, I was waiting for you.” Your stomach ran cold, not knowing what to do now. Carlos was MIA. He surely must be frantic. Was he going to send the team in?

You were staring straight ahead at the vast array of monitors, way more than Carlos had. Every inch of the museum was being watched. You saw the screen with the duct room hallway. It was in the rightmost corner. The control room door was hidden from this angle. This room had been scrubbed from blueprints. You would have seen it, you know it.

The chair in front of you was pushed out, most likely from this man standing up to meet you when you returned. A coat, issued with the museum’s logo, was draped over the chair. You could see a nametag pinned to the front. Leon S. Kennedy. That name did not sound familiar.

You squeaked out when the barrel of the gun hit you square in between the shoulder blades. “Your buddies can’t save you now, you know. Next time they try to do this, they’ll have to do more than just some book research.”

You took a steady breath, urging yourself to sound more collected than you felt. “Don’t act so high and mighty, Leon Kennedy.”

He scoffed. “Don’t act so fucking smart because you know how to read.” He used his gun once more to push your shoulder so you could spin around and face him. You could only stare as he maintained his composure. His eyes were not softening up. “Did you think you could be in and out with this one? Just like all the others?” You tried to fight it, but you felt your face scrunch in confusion. How does he know about the others? He made another sound, like a laugh, and you could almost see the outline of his cocky smile underneath his mask. “Don’t act like you stayed off of anyone’s radar. Your little fence isn’t exactly a low profile criminal in the underground market.” Your stomach sank. He knew about Carlos. He knew about the whole ring, he had been watching you! 

“This was… Is this even a real job?” You spat out, feeling more and more of a struggle to breathe. 

Finally, Leon put down his gun. He knew he had you under his fingers. He crossed one more step to get in your face, looking down at you. “Like I said… Your buddies need to be more careful with what they decide to take on.” He muttered at you.

Something clicked inside of you. It was a life or death situation, and there were no more good outcomes. With the swiftness of air, you shot your right hand up, connecting your fist with the side of Leon’s jaw. It caught him off guard, but it did no more than knock him back a couple of steps. That was a hard jaw.

You used those two seconds to your advantage as you sprung forward, using the chair behind you as leverage as you kicked into his chest with both feet, sending him flying backwards, knocking the gun loose from his grip. He almost fully lost his balance, and you rocketed forward, finishing him off and wanting to send him straight to the floor.

It seems, though, you underestimated how well trained this man might be. He never hit the floor, and from the second you sent him reeling backwards, he was already connecting the distance between you two again, and he ducked when you sent another leg flying at him. He hooked your other leg in his grip, turning you over and forcing you to fall to the floor on your back, effectively rendering your lungs useless.

You gasped for air, finding the strength to fight back, and before he could unlatch himself from the leg he had a grip on, you tightened your other around his throat, tucking his neck right under your knee, and you squeezed hard. 

Finding air again, and still keeping Leon in a chokehold, you pushed yourself up, and rolled the both of you over, so you were now essentially sitting on top of him, pushing his body into the ground as you kept him senseless. The dominance didn’t last long, as he pushed himself up, slamming you, once again, into the ground, loosening your leg, and escaping.

Your attempts at punches were meek, and he gripped both of your wrists in his hands and pinned them down; it was useless. It was over. During the altercation, most likely while he was being choked out, his gaiter slipped down, now wrapped around his neck. The rest of his features match the top half, and god dammit why did you have to make enemies with a man who looks like he should be on display in this very place?

“You should stop trying to fight me.” He grumbled from over you. You knew he had the upper hand now, definitely physically, but you weren’t going to stop.

“And just accept defeat? Accept whatever is going to happen next?” Despite knowing it would be useless, you attempted to break free from Leon’s grip anyway. It resulted in a tighter grasp around your wrists, and you winced. “What do you want from me? You set this up just to catch me. But you’re on the inside, too. You can’t nail us without incriminating yourself.”

If it was even possible, his face hardened further. He lowered his body to bring his face inches from yours, and you found yourself not turning away from his gaze. 

“Maybe that’s just not what I’m after.”

The sentence brought your mind to a complete blank. What else could he be after? If he was employed by the museum you were currently trying to steal a painting from and sell it for thousands, shouldn’t he want to take you down to protect the art? Wouldn’t he want to put you and your team in jail for the crimes you all have committed? 

“So, what? You just wanted to take me down? Try and make me fail? To prove something to yourself?” You were desperate at this point to hear something from Carlos, and the more time went by, you were sure Leon must have done something to the connection. Since he already knows… “Why can’t I hear my team?” You barked at him.

He quirked a cocky grin once again. “I don’t need you calling for unnecessary help. I’ve got it taken care of.” With one harsh movement, he adjusted both of your wrists so they were being held by his left hand. He then used his right to rip the in-ear out, making you cry out when the tape was torn from behind your ear. He kept tugging the cord until the tiny transmitter, which was clipped to the inside of your bodysuit, just below your shoulder, was out in the open, and tossed it aside. He was putting increasing pressure on your wrists, and you couldn't help but writhe.

“Let me go, I don’t get why you’re doing this.” You started a struggle again, but he shut it down swiftly. “Why me, Leon, why us? Surely we can’t be the only underground heist group within the vicinity, surely someone else must have tried to break in here.” 

Leon stared at you for a moment from his place above you. His expression gave nothing away about his thoughts, and it was aggravating you endlessly. He thought he was all that. You were pissed off, because you also felt like that was true. He did manage to fumble your route and tackle you and cut you off from comms. Asshole.

He lifted himself off of you slowly, and you felt the pressure around your wrists disappear. He was straddling you now, his large legs encapsulating you on both sides, his arms looked massive from this angle. His vest was littered with utility pouches, and you weren't sure you wanted to find out what was in them. The gaiter was slack around his neck, and you felt so tiny, submissive, and rapidly heating up under his half lidded gaze. You can’t believe you went over his employee profile. You would have remembered a face like his.

“You’re right. You are not alone in this ring of underground syndicates, frankly, not even the first to have been here. I took on a few of them. I’m not actively working to destroy the network that you work out of, I’m just doing my job. Why should I let thieves get away with it just because they’re good at what they do?” You stared at him as he spoke. You couldn't believe how much information he truly had, and how much more he would surely not reveal to you. “I didn’t care about the other bunch, they were all dirty criminals doing it for the money with no real talent and no morals, so, fuck them, I’ll bust them when they step into my territory.” He lowered himself again, and now he was holding himself above you, arms on either side of your head. He was staring straight down into your eyes. “But then you appeared on my radar. I was surprised to see a woman in this line of business. That’s not common. I had to watch you closely. Maybe my own ignorance made me think that you would be out of play quicker than you even started, but when I discovered you had taken down two men larger than me and turned around a chokehold that surely would have killed you, I couldn't help but be impressed.”

You couldn't stop the scoff that escaped your lips. “Fuck you. You don’t know what I’m capable of. I worked my way up to where I am now.” Your sentence was cut short when he placed a rough hand on your chin, holding it in his palm.

“Shut up.” You ground your jaw, holding back snarky comments that would put you in a worse position. His demeaning command twisted your stomach in an unfamiliar way. “When I noticed your skill, as you needed to throw in there before I finished, I saw a challenge. I couldn’t just let it go.”

No words came out of your mouth right away, still trying to process his. You shook your head in confusion. “Challenge?”

“I like a woman that can put up a fight.” Leon said nothing more, daring you to stay something in retaliation. You kept your mouth shut, unsure of what kind of response you should even give. You squinted your eyes at him, but he didn't falter.

“What kind of job even is this?” His grin grew. The anger and frustration mixed with something foreign in your stomach. You curled your toes instinctively at this feeling. “Setting me up for failure just to wrestle me so you can get a workout?”

He shook his head slightly, that glint in his eyes not fading. “It’s not all about me, you know. You’re my challenge right now, yes, but I see something in you. I want you on my side.”

“Your side? Are there sides to be had here?” 

“Sure there is,” His voice dropped to a low whisper now. You realized in that moment how quiet the room was. After the altercation the two of you had, you concluded it must be soundproof. There would have been a guard here by now. “You can fight. You're a spy. You’re practically invisible. That would be so useful to me. With me. I can give you that, you won’t have to worry about the inevitable end of this.”

You finally brought your hands down by your sides, and he didn’t move to stop you. “Here? You want to offer me the occasional chance of action from the museum?”

“You said it yourself.” His gaze hardened once more, and you suddenly remembered how harsh he was towards you five minutes ago. “I’m on the inside. I’m just as dirty as you guys are.” You stared, fighting the urge to gape your mouth. Someone on the inside, working right under everyone’s nose? “With me, I can make sure you’ll never face the threat of being shut down. Thrown in jail for years, for life. Carlos can’t do that.” You felt a twist at the mention of Carlos’ name, hoping he was alright.

You hated yourself for even letting that thought flick across your mind momentarily. You and Carlos were a team, he taught you everything, yes, but he had no other ‘ins’ in the world to protect you from the law. You were on your own in the field. He just directed you.

Leon had the connections. Leon worked with them. There was a chance that he really could keep you safe. 

“What’s…” You grit your teeth, and swallowed hard, hating this position. “What’s in it for me? I’d be losing what I worked for the last few years. Just to be under your belt now.”

He shook his head. “You’re not losing. You’re gaining.” He came dangerously close to your face, yet again, you didn't move away. “Trust me.” 

With nothing left to say to him, your body only had one way to react. You quickly hooked your left arm around Leon's neck, holding him in close, and using all the weight you could muster to flip positions with him. You could see in his face he was almost expecting this from you, yet he let it happen, and didn’t fight it. 

He let out a grunt as his back hit the ground, knowing his vest took most of the impact. You were now successfully above him, in between his spread legs, his arms splayed out on the sides. The arm that had been used as leverage around his neck was now holding you up, the other was poised threateningly at his collarbone, as if you were going to choke him at any second. 

But now, over him, though you felt triumph, you were at a loss for words again, still so muddled about the situation. Leon let the arrogant smile take over his features.

“We’d make a great pair, don’t you think?” 

A million emotions surged through your veins, making it even harder to focus, to find the right thing to say or do. The way he was looking up at you, those eyes, that face, you wanted to collapse and give it to what he was saying, but you would be damned if you gave in to any sort of manipulation from him. The job was already fucked. There was no money. It was a setup just to get you into his lair… for a lack of better word. He seemed to know the ins and outs of this building, yet, he was working underground for the same reasons, presumably, as you were. 

Fuck it, it doesn’t matter. There’s no job. You wouldn’t leave Carlos behind, but couldn’t you pretend?

Your hand gripped the collar of his shirt. “What’s the negotiation?” You mumbled. You tried your best to keep the intimidating look in your eye, but you were afraid Leon never even saw it in the first place.

He breathed out a small laugh. It infuriated you, but sent a chill down your spine. “Can’t we worry about the price later?”

You sighed, and pushed yourself off of him using his body to boost you. He grunted. On your knees now, you said, “You did all of this to get me to work with you and you won’t even tell me what your prices are?”

He followed your lead, and pushed himself off the floor with ease. He was now sitting up, staring you directly in the eye. “I’ve got a different asking price right now.” His voice became low, and you stiffened. It wasn’t every day on the field that you were met with a master tempter. Leon knew what he was doing now, and it all started to make sense to you. Regardless of if he really wanted you on his team or not, he kept an eye on you for weeks, months potentially, he brought you in here for one reason, and maybe one reason only. 

“What makes you so sure I’ll accept?” You whispered, not able to find the courage anymore to speak properly. 

“I think I just know. Am I wrong?” He stared deep into your eyes, yet another challenge. The challenges never seemed to end with him.

And, despite everything, you knew he wasn’t. You could feel it inside of you, he was right. You were about to accept his not-so-professional asking price, and you wanted to hate yourself for even giving in, but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t feel anything except eagerness. 

You breathed in shakily, frozen in your spot, wanting him to do something first, but he was just letting you fall apart slowly under his gaze, most likely enjoying watching your reaction to a simple stare. You ground your jaw together, resorting to only shaking your head. “Cocky bastard.” 

He laughed out loud once. “You got that right.” 

It seemed he had it now, not giving you time to start anything that you couldn’t move to do. With a solid palm, he pushed backwards onto your chest, sending you into the floor again. You caught yourself with your forearms and could only stare up at him as he towered over you on his knees, looking more intimidating than he did with a gun pointed at your face.

Leon brought one of his hands down to raid your holders strapped around your waist, pulling the knives free and flipping one open. Your breath caught for a second when he brought it to your neck, but then released even more unsteadily when he gripped your collar in the other hand and tore the blade through the spandex fabric of your bodysuit.

You gasped when the air hit your skin, shielded by the temperature regulating fabric, feeling more exposed than you ever had on a mission before. Of course, you figured, you decided a long time ago that the most comfortable way to don the bodysuit was with as little resistance as possible, so as soon as Leon tore the fabric apart from the middle, yourbare chest was on display for him. You felt heat run through your body, from embarrassment and the arousal that you couldn’t stop.

If it was even possible, his eyes grew darker with emotion previously undetected, and his grip on the bodysuit fragments that he was holding onto tightened endlessly, still tugging them off your body as far as they could go. 

He let go, your sleeves still intact, nipples hardening, before continuing to tear it apart lower, until you felt the crotch seams rip right under you, and as shocked by his actions as you were, you were doing nothing to stop it. You tried to tell yourself you wanted to stop him, but you knew yourself better than that by now. He would have been on the ground before he could have even held the knife to your throat.

If he was a mind reader, it wouldn’t have shocked you to find that out anymore. “Just gonna lay there and let me do this to you? Maybe I overestimated your skill.”

It was one thing to be flayed out by someone you didn’t know, another to be held at gunpoint during a mission, but an entirely different field to be insulted by the person who performed all said acts. 

“You don’t know anything about my skill. I guess saying you’ve been watching me was a lie.” You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, not even caring about your physical state anymore. Using your left arm, you sat further up, pushing Leon backwards with your right, and delivered him right onto his ass. “You think I can’t take charge of a situation?”

He looked up at you, not ready to physically retaliate. “I think you can, only when the person is letting you do so.”

You grabbed a hold of the gaiter still slung around his neck, and suddenly you were inches away from him. “I’m not letting you make me think that you’re allowing me to do anything. If watching me wasn’t a lie, you’d know I’m a lot more capable than what I’ve just let you do.”

He tilted his head sideways, clearly liking the new lack of distance between the two of you. “Then prove it.”

You decided to make a bold move. Repositioning your legs so you were now on top of him, you dropped yourself to sit right in his lap, feeling exactly what you were expecting. He groaned, finally not expecting something from you, and with a victorious smile, you fell lower, grinding into his erection with all your body weight. His hands instinctively went to claw at your thighs, the grip so tight it almost stopped you from moving, and his breathing became ragged.

“You give this treatment to every criminal that breaks into here?”

Leon laughed through the breaths. “I never get to them first to do this.” As you continued to gyrate on his lap, his eyes fell shut and his head rolled back, thumping on the wall behind him. His hands snaked up your legs, fingers toying the edges of the ripped fabric of his doing, and he pulled it further, trying to unsheath you as much as he could.

“Then allow me to make sure the rest of your criminals are forgettable.” You snaked your arms around his torso, letting him pull you loose from the sleeves of your bodysuit. Now free, you kept your grip firmly on his biceps, your own body weakening at the realization of how strong they felt. 

As badly as you wanted to free them, as badly as you wanted to see him underneath his armor, you wanted to see it when he took you. You needed to look up at his gear and see his hardened face, the strong bodyguard who made you submit.

He continued with his deep groans the more you ground down on his hard cock, and you could feel it yourself through his pants. Leon’s efforts made it so you had barely anything protecting you, and all that stood in the way were his thick pants. You wanted to free him from his constraints, but you wanted to be a tease about it.

“I hope you had a plan for this, because I’m not obeying someone who wanted to kill me.” You had yourself steady by gripping his knees with your hands, leaning back, his eyes never peeled away from your breasts, out in the open.

He took a hand and placed it over your hip, large and warm, and it sent a wave of heat straight to your core, sure you were wet through your panties now.

“So now you want me to take charge, after going on about your own strengths, huh…” He squeezed his hand over your hip, and it made you squirm.

You basically hopped up and slammed yourself down on his lap, just wanting to make him suffer. “You’ll do what I say, and we’ll see who's listening to orders.” Your motion had made him whine as predicted, and you carefully studied his face as it was scrunched up, mostly in pleasure, probably some in pain.

“Then what?” He half whispered out at you. “Tell me what to do, then.” His hands made their way up to your chest, squeezing delicately, but enough to arch your back into his touch. His other was seated on your thigh, the pressure of his fingertips increasing by the second.

You leaned in close to him, inches away, enough to taste him if you so pleased, but you waited. “Why don’t you treat me like the criminal I am?”

A shudder visibly flowed through his body at your words, the back of his head hit the wall again. The hand on your thigh was now on your throat, not tightening just yet, but with enough sturdiness to keep you in your place. Your whole body was on the move now as Leon shifted his weight, and once again, you found yourself with your back on the floor, staring up at him towering over you. Though you had already been aware of it, your nakedness became prominent in this moment, realizing Leon’s neck and face were all you could see of his skin.

“Don’t think I’ll be gentle then,” He barked out at you, having shaken off the pleasure from you grinding down on him.

You smirked, watching him finally take his gloves off, having nothing to say, but only (oddly) excited about the new course of action. He stopped bothering with trying to get the rest of your clothes off, having opened up enough room for him to work in. You thought he was most definitely either going to push your panties aside for access or cut them off, and as turned on as you knew you would be if he did the latter, you still had to leave this place after this.

“Take my belt off.” He was rigid after flinging his gloves aside, giving you orders to obey. Keeping your back square on the ground, raising only your arms, your fingers worked swiftly to undo the belt buckle, pulling the leather through the metal and setting it free. You looked up into his eyes, which were boring holes into you, and when he made no other movement, you continued to his button and zipper.

When your hand made contact with the fabric you saw the jump his cock made at the friction, even barely there. He let out a soft, shaky breath at you working it open, never losing his composure. The rigid tent right in front of your face was long and thick, and you had to get your hands on it faster than yours could work themselves.

Finally undone, you pushed the opening aside and pulled down the elastic band of his underwear, his facial expression never changing, up until you wrapped your hand around the base of his dick, now out in the open, and he groaned. He wrapped one of his own hands around your wrist, a plea not to move it, but you ignored it, and brought yourself to a sitting position so his head was lined up with the tip of your tongue.

“You want to suck it too, like a whore?” Leon’s other hand found solace in the back of your head, fingers tangling up your hair to get a steady grip. The pull made you wince, but you silenced the feeling by running your flat tongue along the underside of his dick, swiping along the head and letting the precum sit in your mouth.

A deep sigh was the result of your actions, and everything he did only egged you on. You felt him adding force to your head to move, but again, moved at your own pace, letting your tongue trace the indents and veins, letting your hand massage the base while your other was on the floor, holding you upright.

The anticipation alone of this moment could have filled your mouth with saliva, and the throbbing cock in front of you only added to help it. You opened your wet mouth and seated your lips around the tip, feeling that push on the back of your head again. Your tongue swirled endlessly, dragging up and down the slit, pushing more of the precum to the back of your throat, and finally, when you decided you had had enough, you slid his length as far back as you could go, a heavy breath coming from above you when you bottomed out. 

His grip on your hair became shaky, and his breathing never righted again the more you took him into your mouth, bringing him closer to orgasm. The friction lightened up with your saliva around the base, your hand becoming covered in it, the sickening sucking noises sending sparks straight down to your pussy, which was begging to be touched, but you had to push Leon to the edge first. 

You could feel his legs starting to buckle, but you pushed on, knowing he would stop you before he could cum in your mouth. As much as you wanted to bring him to that, you wanted to be pleasured by him first.

With one more deepthroat, stifling a gag and feeling his hand lift from your hair, he pulled himself out of your mouth, strings of saliva connecting his head to your lips. 

He took a deep breath in, looking down at you, almost spent but so much more to give.

With no warning, his hand was back on your throat, pushing you backwards into the floor once more. This time, the pressure was enough to constrict your breathing slightly, and you wrapped a hand around his thick forearm. 

“You weren’t getting off the hook that easily,” Even with the breathiness he was speaking through, his face still showed all the authoritative attitude that he had in the first five minutes of your encounter. At this angle, the shadows on his face made him even scarier, but you felt nothing except turned on by him. Strands of gelled hair fell forward onto his forehead, a glisten of sweat decorated his skin.

“Maybe this was your plan the whole time,” He continued, the hand on your throat not allowing you to speak, but giving you enough air to be satisfied. Your breath hitched when you felt him pull your panties to the side, and deliver a rough sensation to your sensitive clit. “You knew the treatment you’d get by crossing me.”

One finger, then two, and surely your slick was in a pool on the floor by now. His appendages had no resistance as they slid in and out of you, hitting your soft walls, arching your hips to get more and more, but he had you at bay, and he knew it.

“You like this, huh?” Leon brought himself closer to your face, lips just a hair away from yours, but he wouldn’t kiss you. “You like being treated like a slut?” You took another restricted breath in when he returned to your clit, massaging it in circles, making your pussy ache even more. “Answer me.” 

A choked out sob came out of you before, “Yes, I do…” and you felt your face heating up at the force of making you degrade yourself. 

“Yeah, I can tell, you’re so wet I should’ve just fucked you the moment I caught you.” He was growling at you now, and it did nothing but send you into pure bliss at his treatment. “Maybe you’ll learn another lesson or two, one they could never teach you.”

Between the stimulation on your clit and the hand on your throat, a tear slipped out of your eye, but you were anything but dissatisfied. He raised himself, removed his hand (much to your displeasure), and readjusted himself, cock lined up square with your heat.

“Open your mouth.” You did as you were told, and he spit directly into your open mouth, and at the distraction of that, he slid into you.

Your jaw hung slack as he made his way in, you could feel the way his cock was stretching your walls wide, your pussy was so wet it made it easier than you were expecting it to be. Your eyes rolled back, not being able to help the way your eyelids fluttered closed, eyebrows furrowing, fingernails surely cutting Leon’s skin through his sleeves where you gripped him hard.

The stretch was immaculate, it burned and it felt like you were on fire, but none of it made you want to tell him to stop. Skin to skin contact was made on your clit when he was all the way in, you felt so full you could barely breathe, and your clit was sending rocket fire signals to your brain, it made you writhe with the sensations.

You gasped, the drag out feeling just as good as the shove in, and you cried out through the constriction around your throat, “Leon… fuck,”

Leon grunted at your appraisal, you felt the fingers over your neck twitch, knowing he was holding himself back from using all the strength he had in his one hand. You tried your hardest to pry your eyes open, you needed to see him.

“You’re such a slut, letting yourself get fucked to get out of trouble,” He spit out at you in between hard thrusts and heavy breathing. You practically felt the tip of his dick hit your stomach every time he thrust in, and from the sounds alone, you knew it had you soaked. You already knew he was a big man, but watching him in his bulletproof gear had you even weaker than you were before, this big heavy guard taking advantage of you, using you, and you loved it.

Your legs wrapped around his torso, hoisting your hips up to feel more, get him deeper, if it was even possible. 

You could barely even breathe, every move that Leon made inside of you made your head spin, every noise he made turned you to jelly, every thrust had you whining so hard you were sure you were going to lose your voice. 

The pressure on your throat lifted, and the sharp intake of cold air down your windpipes made you dizzy. Opening your eyes, Leon was now back to his position on his knees, still fully sheathed inside of you, and with a slick motion, and the wettest sounds you had ever heard from yourself, he slid out, leaving you empty.

You didn’t even have time to process the movement before Leon had his hand on your arms and was turning you over, bare chest to the cold floor, and you unintentionally shuddered. Using your arms to the best of your ability to hold yourself up, you felt them shake violently, and knew they would give out any time soon. 

Looking up, you saw Leon reach forward and pull his discarded jacket down from the back of the chair, sliding it under your head, and pressing you back down by the nape of your neck. You couldn’t help but moan.

Strong hands settled on your hips, and you had to bite the material under you to muffle the scream as Leon pushed himself back into you, every nerve on fire as he hit the deepest spots you didn’t know existed. This time, he was relentless, like he promised.

You could barely hear him through your own screaming and whining.

“Take it like a whore, I know you can…” A slap to your ass, more tears from your eyes. “Fuck, so good, you’ll learn now…” Hands in your hair, pulling your head up. “I’m gonna fill you up, like a fucking slut,” 

Barely processing anymore, your head a mess and eyes full of tears, you only registered the small change when you felt his arm around your waist, fingers teasing circles into your clit while still pounding into your pussy, still getting wetter by the second. The new feeling had your legs spreading wider for him, further weakening you, your thighs shaking with a strong timber you know no man had ever given you before.

“L-Leon…” It didn’t even sound like words anymore at this point, but Leon got the idea. He pressed harder into the soft nub, making you bite back into his jacket and moan loudly. 

“Come on, I know you can cum for me,” Two more thrusts had him in, and you felt the shaft of his cock pulsing erratically inside of you as he released his seed in you, not waiting for you to say he could or not, but knowing he was going to anyway. 

The feeling of being filled to the brink was what send you over the edge, his fingers still making work and his dick milking itself dry inside of your tight walls had you clenching around it, ragged breaths taking your body hostage as white flashed before your eyelids, and Leon knew he had made you finish, especially in the way your body crumpled underneath him.

Swallowing hard, your throat dry, you slowly came back to reality, and your vision cleared. You felt hands on your waist, slowly rolling you over to lay on your back.

Leon was positioned over you, edge in his eyes long gone, face shiny and slick from sweating, all his hair nearly limp over his face. He looked like a completely different person.

“Are you alright?” Still not knowing if you can speak, you nodded, letting your mouth re-salivate. He pinched your chin delicately between his forefinger and thumb, moving your head to the side to expose your neck. “If I bruised you, I didn’t mean to.”

You shook your head. “It will give me something to cover my disappearance with.” You had no idea how long it had been, but with no contact to Carlos back at base, you wouldn’t be surprised if your entire team flanked the building at this very second to rescue you. Now how to get out with an entirely ripped bodysuit…

“Consider my offer.” Leon mumbled, clear enough to hear, but low enough to hear his exertion. “I was serious.”

You blinked slowly at him, not seeing his expression change at his offer. “If I accept, I’m not a criminal you’ll have to put in place anymore.”

At this, he smiled, and dipped his head down to kiss you again, possibly one of the only times he had that night.

“Honey,” He pulled away. “You’ll always be a criminal.”

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

// You know, I'm worried about Eloise's personality, from her FTEs, I feel like there's something hidden inside her...

// Basically I'm scared Eloise will be the next Kanade Otonokoji.

//I do know what you’re talking about by this point, because I did Eloise’s FTE’s, and yeah. The thing is, I think Eden’s Garden are being managed by a team who is kind of tired of all the classical DR tropes, and doesn’t really want to employ them. At least I hope.

//Eloise is definitely my favourite character in Eden’s Garden right now because of how much POTENTIAL she has as a character to develop, either positively, or negatively.

//Just for the sake of protecting the innocent, since this is still early days, and I talked way longer about this than I thought I would, I’m going to hide the rest of this post under a cut in case I spoil something major. But this is my take on Eloise as a character so far:

//It’s true that Eloise is giving me the vibes of early-game Kanade, since she’s ordinarily pretty meek, but when things get serious, she gets strangely…methodical, and driven.

//However, I think we’re leaning more towards how Mikan acted when she underwent her personality shift instead of Kanade. As things currently stand, I can definitely see Eloise going the route that Mikan SHOULD have gone, and that she eventually snaps when being pushed to her limit by some bully.

//The only issue is I don’t really see who could be her victim in this case. The most likely candidate is Grace, but I do actually think she’s going to get some development after this chapter.

//Because yes, I have made it to the body discovery by now. We haven’t done the trial yet, but we will soon.

//And also, Grace is not NEARLY as bad as Hiyoko was to Mikan. She’s just rough around the edges more than anything, and considering she talks about how the golfing industry is far more cutthroat than it seems, especially for a young woman, then it’s less of her being rude, and more treating everyone like a potential enemy and doubting everyone’s intentions. It’s largely why she punched Damon on sight, stoped everyone from investigating Wolfgang’s room, and demanded her blackmail from Eloise in such a vicious way.

//Speaking of Grace’s issues, based on what I saw in Eloise’s FTE’s, my current line of thinking is that she has something similar. And with the way that Eloise and Grace seem to so subtly parallel each other, I feel it makes a lot more sense.

//Unlike Grace, who clearly has to fight for her life to get to where she is, Eloise got to where she was by LITERALLY not having to lift a finger.

//The other members of Eloise’s fencing club were too scared to face off against her. She explains in FTE 3 that in fencing, forfeiting a match counts as a win for your opponent, so basically, the main reason she became the Ultimate Fencer is because people refused to fight her, and she climbed up the ranks that way. Damon even mentions that he would call her skills into question had it not been for the fact that she'd trained with her teacher.

//And then, in the fourth and final FTE, for now at least, she talks about how her family aren’t especially well off, and that’s kind of where we see the not-so innocent and meek side of her.

//Damon tells Eloise that he makes enough money through winning debate competitions that his parents don't really have to work anymore. Eloise is in a similar position with her fencing, but says her sisters are bratty and come off as ungrateful for the life she's giving them, and she's worried about her mother, having to take care of them.

//Damon immediately asks if her mother has a boyfriend or a girlfriend that can help her out, and phrases it that way because Eloise never mentions anything about having a father before. And as Damon pries, this PISSES HER OFF.

//As far as Eloise’s family situation goes, I have no real comments. At least not yet; because it could be almost anything at this point in time. However, based on Eloise’s nature as it’s been shown so far, I do have two lines of thinking:

//The first is that I think she has some sort of anger problems that she's clearly trying to get help for, but Damon has brought them out. That anger caused her to badly hurt someone in a match before, and because of that, everyone else in her club is scared of her. This why she climbed so high in the ranks, because no one wanted to fight her.

//With that said, as unfortunate as it is, there is also a very real possibility of there being a degree of sadism to her character through her actions. In the investigation segment of this chapter, when Grace blocks the door to Wolfgang’s room and prevents anyone from investigating, Eloise very subtly threatens her, and says that she’ll call Tozu to move her if she doesn’t move herself.

//Knowing full well that Grace especially has just been repeatedly abused by Tozu, and is probably terrified of him, even if she doesn’t show it.

//This method works, and you could always say Eloise was angling for the most effective method, but there’s just something so sinister about the way that her dialogue completely changes tone, and how she speaks very directly about it, instead of beating around the bush, or hesitations like she always does.

//Again, I REALLY don’t want that to be the case, but in the instance that it IS like that, then please Eden’s Garden, at least PORTAY it well!

-Mod

[namelessprayers]

"if you were truly sorry, then you wouldn't have to convince me of it, would you?" confronted till with his fists balled at his sides the first instance that the world allowed it to occur.

he had been lingering on ivan's noncommittal excuse of an apology for the last week and it had effectively simmered in a couple more layers of indignation for the worse. in till's mind, ivan owed him at least a proper explanation and perhaps a few favors along with it.

"say something, idiot, don't just look past me when i'm right in front of you." continued till, having noticed the bordering blankness that seemed to dawn on ivan's face as he receded into deep thought.

"i'm sorry." eventually responded ivan. then after a terse pause that must've shown blatant distaste on till's face, he decided to tack on an extra mutter with a slight bow of his head. "i mean it."

being prepared to fight over forgive, till settled in between for forgetting and promptly storming off seething in 'whatever' hissed through his teeth. next time, till swore to either give up on ivan for good or punch him square in the jaw.

both would be cathartic enough to partially satiate till's conflicting feelings about ivan for maybe a month.

======

till met ivan by complete coincidence and still indeterminably fateful chance. it was absolutely nothing to do with the fact that till hadn't had any real friends since the second grade or that he was notably but tolerably lonely wandering by himself after school finished.

it was an odd day, mostly due to till's succession of questionably unsound decisions to not go home immediately and to instead loiter behind private property. he didn't trespass, or he didn't used to, because it risked his mother finding out a few key things about a) his lack of friends and b) his general restlessness in life.

he had scoped out the area before sitting down on the ledge of a lowered billboard which had an advertisement half ripped off its cover. dangling his legs so his feet swung over the grass, till did the only thing he really could do and filled his page with whatever came to mind. it was the best kind of wandering; the least lonely kind.

when till was done, the sun had significantly eased downwards, glare still in full force but from a much different angle than during midday.

distinctly, he could recall near instantly packing up and booking it home as soon as he heard the sound of other people close by; but through some inexplicable intuition, till ended up trailing the outskirts of the wire fence until the group of others came into view.

the boys in question were idiots, no doubt. he could hear it in their tones, jeering and taunting, always so devoid of any real purpose or valuable emotion. till wasn't going to insert himself needlessly into their antics, probably among the likes of trespassing and other things his mother wouldn't approve of.

like proof of the point that till should've turned back, he figured out what the boys were doing in particular, which was beating someone up. probably not the first time they'd done it, nor would it be the last, and yet, till had been compelled to venture closer as if the angle of viewing might change something about the situation.

till waited for at least ten minutes before they got bored and left, revealing that it was his never attending desk mate who got the brunt of the group's past time activities.

with an odd conviction, till scaled the wire fence, tossing his bag over and following within a short span of thirty seconds. after landing on his feet, he stared at ivan from a distance who was just sitting there hunched against the wall in a pitiful bid at disappearing.

on noticing him, till swore that ivan's eyes flashed red, but it was gone too quick for him to know.

it dawned on till that this was entirely unprecedented and completely unnecessary for him to do. in something of a panic that someone might catch him trespassing on this one rare occasion, till efficiently backtracked all the way over the fence, pausing for a brief moment of hesitation before his phone buzzed its discontent at the late hour it was and he urged himself to carry on.

till made it home at the same time he usually did, evading any of his mother's suspicion, but now stuck with the image of ivan expectantly waiting for a person who'd never come.

======

"school's not so bad. it's boring, but it's not bad." said till, sensing that his intent wasn't getting through to ivan who still didn't show up to school and only furrowed his brows at the words. "you've only attended for a single day, how do you even know it's so bad?"

they sat on the curb of a dead end street that no one ever drove down as usual. neither of them had brought up their first official meeting as not much had changed since then besides their increased communication and penchant for holding proper conversations that weren't just glaring; also the fact that till could now spot ivan walking across the street or resting on the playground like a moth to a flame.

"i just do know." replied ivan, assured and unbothered as typical. it was the kind of attitude that ticked till off depending on the person. ivan was lucky that till was starting to form a soft spot for him. "plus, you're not really selling it to me. boring is still bad, in a way."

"maybe it won't be boring. i sit next to you, you know? that can't be boring, can it?" mumbled back till, trying not to sound desperate for ivan to stay around him more often, because that definitely wasn't what this was.

"you're already sitting next to me." tiredly returned ivan, examining the spot where till kicked his feet along the gravel road as though it was some incredible revelation that they were currently here.

"and is it boring?" asked till, attempting to be flippant but ultimately bleeding through with an earnest sincerity that grated on his own ears as he cycled back through their chatting.

"no." ivan said stiffly. when he turned to look at till, it seemed like the sun glinted red in his eyes. "my whole life is boring, except for you."

[creative-frequency]

Lucanis x Rook: Midnight Song and Dance, pt. 1/2

⚜ Lucanis and Rook celebrate their first night as fully-fledged Crows. Or; Lucanis is down bad for his colleague. → Pining and romantic tension, light angst, Crow!Rook (she/her), Lucanis POV, Series: Spellblade of House de Riva Word count: 2.6k

When Rook de Riva made her descent down the long stairs of Cantori Diamond’s casino floor, Lucanis Dellamorte forgot how to breathe.

He had been dreading this night.

Being at the centre of attention was something he had never enjoyed – even if the stay in the spotlight had been brief as their new statuses as full-fledged Crows was recognized by the Houses. No, Lucanis would have much rather been racing over the roofs of Treviso in pursuit of a mark.

But alas, he had been forced to set his Crow leathers aside for the night and wear something much more debonair: a suit of dark samite.

Rook’s hand gripped the intricate railing on the curved stairs, while the other held her layered hems. Lucanis saw Rook usually in her fighting or fencing gear, but never before in a dress like this. She looked so… feminine and noble. Even royal. Like a cloud in the night sky in her billowing sleeves and the glimmer of the sunset on the sea as her jewellery. The dress was tight and loose in just the right places and allured one’s eyes to linger where skin was exposed.

Lucanis swallowed and adjusted his cuffs.

Illario let out a long, low whistle next to him, and Lucanis’ first instinct was to punch his cousin right in the mouth. But if they started a fight at such a public gathering, Caterina would beat them both to death. Brawling at private family functions was generally viewed more favorably.

“Looks like the princesa has dressed for the part tonight,” Illario noted and bumped Lucanis on the side.

Lucanis still wanted to punch his cousin, but he had to agree. If he hadn’t known Rook would be carrying at least three daggers in the folds of that dress, he might have appreciated the sentiment a bit more. Rook was far from a princess and would arrive ready to prove it. Besides, such a remark discounted her significant magical abilities.

The Spellblade of House de Riva was an expert with a dagger, sure, but deadly when wielding a focus orb.

Rook noticed the Dellamortes staring just as she paused at the foot of the stairs. She waved a little, to which Illario responded in kind. And bumped Lucanis again on the ribs. This time a waggle of his dark eyebrows followed. If it had been anyone else but Rook, Lucanis would’ve decked Illario and left the scene.

Rook started making her way through the murder of Crows, but people kept stopping her to exchange platitudes and offer their congratulations.

Congratulations on rising through the ranks, de Riva. You’ve earned it.

Let me know when you get enough of Viago, dear, there is a spot for you at our house.

You look beautiful tonight, Signora de Riva. Enchanted.

Lucanis knew those conversations were nothing but a part of the constantly ongoing circus of politicking and duplicity, but Rook had to indulge them to not appear disrespectful. Viago was especially strict about how the members of his house were perceived in social functions. Lucanis assumed it had something to do with his status as a bastard prince.

Illario tried to bump Lucanis on the side for the third time, chuckled when Lucanis dodged the elbow, and threw him a meaningful smirk instead.

“Make sure to take her to dance tonight, cousin,” Illario crooned.

Lucanis scoffed, but the thought made his insides turn into mush. Would it be unorthodox of him to ask the Spellblade of House de Riva to dance? Certainly all eyes would be on them, whether they braved the ballroom floor or not.

It was unfair how Illario never seemed bothered by these kinds of musings. In fact, he had always enjoyed gallivanting and parading around in social events. It was effortless to him. Illario was always charming and an easy flirt, and ladies swooned in his arms. He had been known to take Crows from several different Houses to ‘dance’. Caterina was not happy about it or the reputation that had followed. For contract killers who dealt in discreet, the Crows could be a chatty bunch.

“Why is it always so hectic in these things?” Rook asked in lieu of greeting as she finally reached the two men.

She was… radiant. While Lucanis tried to remember how to breathe, Illario swooped in for a rescue.

“I’m afraid it’s just you whose attention they all vye for, fiore,” Illario mused.

Illario and Rook brushed their cheeks, but Rook’s attention was on Lucanis.

“Someone looks like a storm cloud on their big night,” she chuckled.

It was Lucanis’ turn to lean in for a quick kiss on her cheek. The intended dismissive reply jammed into his throat because Rook’s perfume reached his senses. It was delicate and floral with notes of something that would be best enjoyed with a cup of good coffee. Underneath it all was what Lucanis could only describe as Rook’s natural scent; familiar and comforting. A scent that would be best enjoyed in private. 

His stomach made a weird flip at the thought and his body went rigid before he could make himself relax.

“And he’s been cultivating those clouds of doom ever since yesterday’s brunch,” Illario commented and looked at his cousin weirdly, his expression saying ‘what are you doing?’ 

Mierda. It would be great if just once Lucanis could act smooth and savvy like Illario. It was a little easier to think when Rook stepped back from his personal space.

“Viago was looking for you,” Lucanis said bluntly since he just remembered he had promised to deliver the note, “I assume you still haven’t talked yet?”

Rook squinted and took an assessing look around the casino floor, but that was all she gave as a reaction. This was not news to her.

“We will.” Rook sighed, clearly irked. “When he gets off his high horse and returns to being just the Fifth Talon.”

Lucanis had an inkling what the whole argument was about, but no matter what it was, it definitely was none of his business. Viago had been trying to drag him and Illario into the trenches with him for weeks, but they had managed to slip away every time. Poor Teia had not been so fortunate – that, or she had been eager for the opportunity to meddle. Lucanis presumed the latter.

“I would rather not find my morning coffee flavoured with Adder’s Kiss, so please let him know I relayed the message,” Lucanis deadpanned. Illario nodded to agree, uncharacteristically serious. Some things were beyond making fun of and the Fifth Talon’s affinity with poisons was one of those things.

Rook looked from Lucanis to Illario, blinked twice, and burst into delighted laughter. So talking with Viago was apparently not on her agenda.

“Viago would never do such a thing,” Rook cooed in jest.

“Riiight…” Illario said slowly and looked utterly unconvinced. Lucanis also wondered if they were still talking about the same Viago.

“Consider the message received, loud and clear,” Rook promised. Her gaze kept surveying the room. “Well, enjoy your evening, gentlemen. I need to find Dante…”

Rook’s gaze landed on Lucanis. She smiled sweetly and Lucanis recognised the expression by heart since it was the one she used whenever she was going to tease him mercilessly.

“Save a dance for me?” Rook asked in a sing-song voice.

Lucanis managed a stiff nod, because what else was he supposed to do, and he couldn’t help watching how Rook’s hips swayed as she sauntered away with a wave of her fingers.

Illario, who had seen the whole embarrassing exchange littered with one-sided pining, was just about to open his mouth in glee, but another guest’s approach saved Lucanis.

“Lucanis, Illario.”

Their grandmother’s familiar, stern voice made both men stand a little more straight. She glanced after Rook, but said nothing, just wrinkled her brow like she always did. Even if Caterina’s tongue was tied for a reason unknown to Lucanis, her expression spoke volumes of disapproval.

Lucanis was not sure how Caterina really felt about Rook, but there was some mysterious animosity between them. Whatever else it was, they also shared a begrudging, professional respect for each other. Rook avoided the First Talon if she could help it, but Caterina had always been ready to send her to take out mage contracts with Lucanis for his benefit. Just so he would have the opportunity to work with a skilled mage and learn how to kill one most efficiently.

“Good evening, Caterina,” Lucanis greeted as they exchanged cheek kisses. It instantly killed any tingling sensations left by Rook’s touch and perfume.

Illario greeted their grandmother with less enthusiasm. He was good at sensing incoming lectures, so Lucanis braced himself.

“My boys, what are you doing here standing around?” Caterina started strong with the scolding. She was carrying an almost empty wine glass in one hand and her lethal cane in the other.

Lucanis and Illario glanced at each other, both unsure what else they were supposed to be doing at a party.

Caterina tossed back the rest of the wine.

“We were just about to–”

“Silence, Illario. Save your honeyed words.”

Lucanis bit his tongue.

“We did not fight to keep the seat of the First Talon so you could stand around like idiotas. You should be presenting the family,” she hissed in a low tone.

“Of course, Caterina,” Lucanis agreed. It was easiest to weather the storm by nodding in agreement.

“You two are the only grandchildren I have left,” Caterina sighed.

She brushed some invisible dust off Lucanis’ shoulder and looked somber.

“Be good sons and think about the family bloodline.”

Dread fell into the pit of Lucanis’ stomach. Not this again. Caterina had been on their case about the fucking family bloodline for months. It had something to do with the other Houses announcing new heirs here and there. As far as Lucanis was concerned, it would have nothing to do with him at least for a decade.

“Caterina…” Illario groaned and he would have surely gotten a smack of the cane if they had been in private.

“Isn’t it a little early to start thinking about such… things?” Lucanis asked carefully, entirely too trusting of the public environment to keep the cane in check.

“Well.” Caterina leaned back with pursed lips. “You’ve proven that you’re old enough to be sleeping around, so I can only assume you’re ready to take on the responsibility of the consequences.”

Lucanis and Illario groaned as one. Couple of Crows standing close by were casting either amused or pitying looks at the pair.

To be fair, Lucanis had allowed his good name to be dragged through the mud for Illario’s benefit. His cousin still owed him for that. Rook had not been amused to hear about the assumed relations. She had fried the tips of Lucanis’ hair with a strategically aimed tendril of lightning (he had not been expecting it, hence the delayed dodge), but relented her verbal and magical attacks after hasty explanations and Illario laughing himself teary-eyed and breathless. Family drama always made for memorable, good times.

“You’d best start thinking seriously about the future of our House,” Caterina continued without mercy. She shot a meaningful look at a couple of young ladies passing by, who were giggling into their palms.

Lucanis bristled, but managed a polite half-bow. Maker knew Illario was more into practising how to ensure the continuation of the family line. Lucanis preferred other things over sheer quantity.

“Of course, Caterina,” Illario mimicked Lucanis’ earlier tone impeccably and earned a suspicious glower from their grandmother.

Lucanis’ attention sailed over to Rook again. She was conversing with Dante Balazar, the Second Talon. Dante was the picture perfect Antivan noble: he had straight, white teeth, wide shoulders, and a charming smile. Rook was in high spirits and Lucanis felt an ugly sting of uninvited jealousy. It was probably just the wine that made her smile and giggle like that. Rook had never been able to hold her liquor well. Her laughter had nothing to do with the older man. And her hand on his arm was just a friendly gesture, it was nothing–

Caterina’s sharp eyes followed Lucanis’ line of sight and her brow wrinkled again. She didn’t say anything nor did she continue on about the importance of the Dellamorte lineage. Thank the Maker.

“How about a turn at the dance floor?” Lucanis suggested hurriedly.

Caterina scoffed, but her expression had taken a turn to warmer. “You’d best not waste your breath on me, my dear boy.”

Illario rolled his eyes when their grandmother was preoccupied with her favourite grandson.

Before Lucanis could find the best platitudes to say, another rescue arrived in the form of the Fourth Talon, Emil Kortez.

“Caterina, we need to speak.”

The senior Crow’s expression was sharp and solemn, revealing nothing, but Lucanis guessed it was about the matter of the Seventh Talon. There had been murmurings, a ripple across the board.

“Good evening to you too, Emil,” Caterina said in a sour tone and turned back to her grandsons. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Of course,” Lucanis and Illario murmured, unable to believe their luck.

They let out a collective breath of relief as soon as their grandmother was out of earshot. They didn’t waste time strategically changing their position so that Caterina couldn’t ambush them again. Not even before their second glasses of red wine were drained, Illario was lured away by the coy looks from a certain lady of House Arainai. It was Lucanis’ turn to roll his eyes towards the ceiling. No wonder Caterina was concerned about the reputation of the family when Illario was such a rake.

Left alone, Lucanis moved to a better vantage point to see if he could spot Rook again. He slipped through the crowds and skulked by the walls, masterfully avoiding conversation and examining the mass of Crows for a glimpse of familiar features. Had Rook been using her magic, he would have found her instantly. After all the training and contracts together, Lucanis could easily recognize the specific brand of power Rook pulled from the Fade. It had proved a useful trait when working together.

It took Lucanis a while to locate Rook: she was gliding on the dance floor in the arms of none other than Dante Balazar. Lucanis’ fingers gripped the glass stem with unnecessary force. He discarded the half-empty glass on a side table before he would break it.

Lucanis needed to clear his head. Rook could dance with whoever she wanted to and out of all the eligible Crows in the Cantori Diamond, Dante was not a bad choice for the Spellblade of House de Riva. Even Viago would have to approve, although disgruntledly.

Lucanis made an escape to the rafters overlooking the Diamond main floor and leaned heavily on the railing. He sighed. Below, the evening went on with a steady flow of wine, song after song. He really preferred to leave these things as soon as the official part was done, but with Caterina going full rampage mode with the bloodline nonsense… His next sigh was closer to a groan of frustration. The volume downstairs rose with each minute that ticked by and the beginnings of a headache pounded on Lucanis’ temples.

The rafters were mostly empty, save for a couple of fledgelings that giggled by and skipped on to find a secluded corner, and some senior Crows having a serious discussion in hushed tones. Lucanis smiled wryly. What was a party without light backstabbing and clandestine canoodling?

He retreated to take a seat in the shadowed corner of the lounge area and let the noise fade into the background. Lucanis wanted to have just a few minutes to gather his bearings. Since he was expected to be downstairs mingling and representing House Dellamorte, he hoped no one would realise to make the effort to find him.

And still, Rook did.

→ Part 2

[happygirl2oo2]

Every reference I could find to Fitz's love of monkeys in Marvel's Agents of Shield, organized by episode numbers

According to this article, Fitz's love for monkeys comes from Iain de Caestecker's love for monkeys. The actor joked in season one about wanting a monkey sidekick for Fitz and it made it into the show's story. Fitz even has monkey figurines on his desk in early seasons.

season 1 episode 2:

FITZ: “I would love to see a capuchin in the wild. Maybe even a yellow-tailed woolly monkey. You know, um, Peru has 32 different species of monkey.”

season 1 episode 3:

FITZ: “If we had a monkey, we could get in.” SIMMONS: “Ugh, Fitz!” FITZ: “If we had a small monkey, he could slip through the sensors and disable the fence's power source with his adorable little hands.”

and

FITZ: “Did you hear the deadly lasers part? Without a brave monkey—”

season 1 episode 8: 

FITZ: “Still, this is definitely the type of work a monkey could easily do.” WARD: “You're our little monkey.”

season 1 episode 16:

MAY: “What's this?" FITZ: "Um, say you need to tag a fleeing vehicle... or a wild monkey, if it was to get away from you.”

season 1 episode 22:

SIMMONS: “That means that every bit of energy inside us, every particle" *breathes deeply* "will go on to be a part of something else, maybe live as a dragonfish, a microbe, maybe burn in a supernova 10 billion years from now. And every part of us now was once a part of some other thing ... a moon, a storm cloud, a mammoth.” FITZ, softly: “A monkey.” SIMMONS, also softly, accepting: “A monkey.”

season 2 episode 14:

Daisy: "Okay. But why am I suddenly feeling like old yeller right now?" Coulson: "Kind of surprised you know the reference." Daisy: "I've had a lot of downtime lately. That and Fitz really wants a dog." Coulson: "Thought he wanted a monkey." Daisy: "Guess he readjusted his expectations."

season 2 episode 16:

*When Fitz is packing up his stuff to leave, his three-monkeys statue is the first thing he's seen grabbing*

season 3 episode 21:

*When Fitz is getting ready for the broadcast with Talbot, he's making monkey noises as his vocals warm-up*

season 4 episode 3:

FITZ (counting his breath): “One chimpanzee, two chimpanzee. One chimpanzee, two chimpanzee.”

season 5 episode 5:

*Fitz is shown drawing monkeys on his cell's wall as a way to mark the passing of time while being there, instead of the regular line-markings that are usually used for that*

season 5 episode 16 (as Bobo is a common monkey name):

Jemma: "I was hoping you could tell me more about our future." Deke: "I mean, you saw it... It sucked." Jemma: "No, I mean Fitz and me. Do you recall any evidence of major injury, any noticeable scarring, perhaps?" Deke: "I don't remember you guys at all. I didn't even know your real names. Everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. changed them when they were getting hunted down. I just knew you as Nana and Bobo."

season 5 episode 21:

*when Simmons is packing up Fitz's things into the suitcase, his monkey statue from the earlier seasons can be seen among the things already in the suitcase*

season 6 episode 3:

SIMMONS: “Expecto Patronum! [a small hallucination of Fitz in a monkey suit appears on her straw] Hello, little monkey Fitz.”

season 6 episode 6:

*while in the memory of the night they first became friends, after Simmons tells Fitz she also remembers "how manic you were and thinking that genius is just a tick away from madness", the wall is seen suddenly covered in drawings of monkeys in the same way Fitz did to the wall in his cell in season 5 episode 5*

season 6 episode 8:

SIMMONS (about the events of s6ep3): "I saw you in a monkey outfit dancing." FITZ: "No, no, reverse on that bit, what do you mean you saw me in a monkey outfit dancing?"

season 7 episode 13:

*When Alya gets up from her bed in the pod to hug her mom, a few monkey dolls can be seen at the edge of her bed*

and

FITZ (about Alya): “This little monkey is punching me as hard as she can in the leg.”

[pinkytoothlesso11]

Hi Pinky what if Barbara and Strickler Switch their places. with Barbara being a changeling in Secret While Strickler is Just being the School history teacher.

Ooh this sounds like a great AU! Love a good role swap!

So I think that Barbara would end up being a doctor who works part time at the hospital and reports to Bular at night and also works part time at Arcadia Oaks High school... Because she secretly likes kids and wanted one of her own, but that's impossible because she's a changeling.

Walter is still a history teacher, and single dad to Jim. Instead of being abandoned like Barbara was in Canon, Walt's wife passed away when Jim was only five.

Barbara forms a bond with Jim just after he starts high school, after Jim gets punched up defending Eli from Steve, she patches him up, and Jim sees in her the mother he never got to know. Also since Walt was called in for the fight, Barbara and Walter end up together before Canon, with Barbara not revealing she's a changeling.

Canon events roll up, but instead of Jim being chosen it's Walter. Since in this AU there's no reason for Jim to be chosen when there's a perfectly capable adult who is already somewhat experienced with a sword due to fencing practice in his youth, amoung other things.

Anyway. Barbara is naturally devastated her boyfriend got chosen as the Trollhunter, but she's also aware Bular will kill her if she doesn't retrieve the amulet.

There is some fighting between Walt and Barb for a bit, but they work through it because of Jim. Soon enough Bular is defeated, Angor Rot is never a problem since Nomura and Barbara are BFF's in this AU, being the same age as changelings.

Unfortunately Walt is still dunked with the half troll potion to fight Gunmar, still looking like his canon troll form, but with eyebrows, longer ears, even more human nose and still green eyes. He gets wings too. Barbara naturally loves him even more like that, but refuses to accept he's stuck forever as a troll. Between her, the Akiridions when they arrive, Morgana (she reforms) and Merlin and Douxie they find a way to let Walt be human and troll. Also, Jim gets the shadow staff in this AU.

Oh yeah, and Barbara’s troll form is teal, with brighter red hair than her human form, curling ram horns and the usual yellow and red changeling eyes. She also has cloven hooves like Nomura, but the addition of a tail.

[ghostaddictgremlin]

Kamen Rider Gavv

So... I have an important exam on Friday and tried to be responsible about it... instead I just binge watched all of Gavv I was missing... hope you missed my stupid commentary

Ep 19

Yeah, let's go, bring him to Suga. Awesome idea!!

What a fucking cunt he is😂

Oh no, he immediately lost his strawberry sauce in his face!

Sachika is doing him so dirty rn😂😂😂

All of them look so fucking stoned😂

PLS DO NOT THE STOMACH

I'M SORRY WHAT IT'S A FREAKIN CHAINSAW?!?!?!

Multitool weapon

Oh not his mom died but his brother

Oh my god, he sounds so broken

Do you... need a hug, maybe? Can I offer you a hug, Vram?

DOES HE NEED A HUG PERHAPS?!😭😭

THEY'RE DRUGGING THE CHILDREN😭

He's helping you bc he's a baby, he's a puppy, he's a sweethear😭

That fade over from Komell to Shouma??? Is Shouma just getting himself a new brother??

Also I didn't think we'd warm up to Vram that fast

That episode was awful, I need emotional support

Ep 20

God, Suga is such a cunt too😂

I am in eternal pain

VRAM YOU NEED A FUXKING HUG I AM LAYING AND SOBBING ON THE GROUND

I got my emotional support bat but I think he needs my emotional support bat more than I do

He apologised😭

THE PTSD FLASHBACKS?! HANTO'S MOM?!?

"I didn't do anything!" *cuts to experiment*😂

I love that they never spoil that he's a Stomach bc they just hate him sm they refer to him as "red Gavv"

I repeat myself when I say I support women's rights and wrongs

God, me when she

HE'S JUST KEN

That doesn't look healthy

I need serious help if he keep behaving like that

OH WELP SHIT NEVERMIND

She's making me question my homosexuality a lot

I actually do not enjoy this show, I'd like to quit

Ep 21

I love Lakia just being like 🧍‍♂️

I think it'd be just fair to include Lakia in the intro now

Oh lol

Suga, you're so awful, I love you😭

Oh, Nyelv isn't happy about that at all

Shouma desperately needs a hug too

HE IS NOT HAPPY ABOUT THE SNACKS AND THAT'S WHY HE GET NO NEW GOCHIZO?!

Actually talking to him is an amazing idea, Hanto

I knew we get evil Shouma. I saw the messy hair pics and connected the dots. KR taught me the eviler you get, the messier your hair

I'm sorry but Chinen still looks like a puppy even if he plays the evil

Oh nooo, not Sachikaaa

I need that black Gavv right fucking now pls

So... did Suga clone Shouma? Is Suga Shouma? I can't tell apart voices? Is that a new voice? What is happening?

GOD I LOVE THAT SUIT SO FUCKING MUCH GIVE ME THE HORROR SHOUMA

This is not what your arm should be doing, darling

It's a bit sad, that you're loosing Hanto. He literally doesn't know what he's doing with his limbs

Ep 22

You know that "That's enough slices!" meme? That's me with Gavv plot rn

I am lowkey feeling like that jelly form is slowly but surely killing Lakia

Gavv had no build up. Gavv just continues to punch you in the face

Awww I love little jelly Shouma😂 the way he slinky dinked over that fence

You mean... he blacked out from constipation?

Girlboss him out of your house!!

SACHIKA IS THE BEST PERSON EVER. I LOVE HER SM

"Come home safe, alright?" JUMPING OUT THE WINDOW RN

I can't do this anymore. I need emotional support bat for my emotional support bat

May need to exit my flat through the window fr

"From now on, rather than trusting you because I thought you were human- Shouma, I'll trust you because you are you." WAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

Pls do not the chocogummy gay sillies

I do love little unhinged slinky dink Shouma

They just made up, can we pls not get more ptsd?

Ep 23

JESUS FUXKINF CHRIST SHOW. SHOUMA DID NOT ONLY SEE HIS MOM DIE BUT HANTO'S MOM TOO

STOP BE DEVASTATING SHOW

I hate that they still go yapping to Suga. I mean they don't know but😭

I lowkey expected some kind of Valentine's Day special but definitely not Suga😂

Sachika is the sweetest person ever on this earth

OH GOD DON'T BRING UP HIS FATHER

What a fucking shitty ass friend, is he yapping??

Of course she immediately speaks gochizo

Dente, that was the wrong answer😂😂

He do be sweet tho

NEW SLINKY DINK!!!

I do love unhinged slinky dink Shouma so much

Why would you leave him with them?😂😂😭

[amenders93]

A Corny Challenge

After their sweet family hug/reunion, Rocky heroically suggested that they blow this henhouse and head back home. He then looked up at the entrance hatch and realized his mistake. He sheepishly looked at his wife Ginger, asking her if that hatch was their only way out. Ginger sheepishly nodded to her husband. Our island king then looked downcast, apologizing for acting before thinking, like he always does. Rocky, when are you ever going to learn? Always look before you leap. 🤦🏼‍♀️

Ginger then heard something behind her. She looked to see Molly sitting down on a pile of corn, crying her poor little eyes out. Our island queen went to go sit down with her little princess. When Ginger asked Molly what was wrong, the young chicken wept that this is all her fault. That she should have listened to her mother and done what she was told and now that everything is a mess. Rocky walked over to join his girls and looked at Ginger, knowing what she had to do - talk to their daughter. Ginger tried to comfort Molly, asking where is her big, brave girl. Molly wasn't in the mood for comfort though, replying that that girl's stupid and that Ginger was right about everything she told her about the mainland. She also promised that if they all ever get back home, she'll just stay there and never leave - ever. Rocky couldn't believe what he was hearing. This didn't sound like the Molly he knew and loved. Our island king then sat down with his family, trying to take the blame for what Molly did. If only he hadn't told his daughter all of that ridiculous Lone-Free Ranger stuff.

But our island queen had finally spoken up on whose fault is truly was - her own. Ginger confessed to Molly that she used to hate being fenced in - so why should she expect her own daughter to be any different than who she was? All her life, she was fenced in a chicken farm by that horrible Mrs. Tweedy. But now that the chickens have their own personal sanctuary, Ginger turns right around and fences her own daughter on the island just like she was. So in retrospect, she is no better than that evil witch. If Rocky and Ginger had only told Molly the truth about their past sooner, then maybe none of this whole mess would have happened. She also admitted that she was afraid that Molly was so much like her. Molly then asked her mom, "What's wrong with being like you?" That made Ginger look at Molly, realizing that maybe she had no reason to be afraid about that. Rocky spoke the very thought - there's nothing wrong with Molly being like her mother because she is the best. Also, she always has a plan. Rocky looked at his wife hopefully, but Ginger then looked at her husband dejected. This time, our island queen didn't have a single plan in mind. There was just no way out now.

Back in the control room, Mrs. Tweedy watched the screen as the Sir Eat-a-Lot truck drove in through the main gate. She turned to Dr. Fry, asking if they're ready to fry up some more chicken nuggets. The scientist was madly punching buttons, assuring his wife that they'll be ready in five minutes. But the impatient witch told him to make it four minutes instead. She then scanned the screens searching for Ginger and the missing chickens. That's when the security booth guard rushed in, giving his report that the runaway chickens got themselves stuck in the corn silo. Mrs. Tweedy relished this news with an evil smile. She then told Dr. Fry that she'll go and greet their guest, adding that production starts in three minutes. Worried, Dr. Fry began tapping away madly at the controls. Mrs. Tweedy went over to a button labelled "GRINDER", commenting that the little chickens just ran out of cluck. That evil witch then pressed the button.

In the silo, there was a loud grinding sound and the corn began to swirl around. It was being sucked down - and so were the chickens! Everyone panicked as the corn started to pull them under. Bunty gave the report that there must be a grinder at the bottom as she tried to keep herself on top of the swirling corn. Always the practical one, Mac commented that on the plus side, they'll all probably drown before they get ground into wee tiny pieces. Rocky looked at the corn and grabbed handfuls. He thought hard and realized that the corn could be made into making popcorn - one of his favorite snacks back on the island. Ginger, trying frantically not to be sucked down, at first didn't get what Rocky was saying but after looking at the piles of corn and the stream of sunlight coming through the windows at the top of the silo, she realized what her husband meant. Popcorn is the answer to all life's problems after all! 🍿

Ginger turned to Mac, telling her that they need heat - and lots of it! Mac fumbled in her rucksack, held up a firework and blindly threw it to Rocky, who luckily caught it. Thinking it'd be perfect, our island king buried it downwards in the corn. He asked around if anyone had a match. Nick was confused at this, saying that the only match around here is Rocky and a raving lunatic because he's going to blow them all to bits! Ginger quickly found a matchbox among their supplies, but when she opened it, it was empty. Apparently she used the last one when she lit the candle on the Trojan cake during the break-in earlier. Without a light, Rocky's firework idea was hopeless! But behind him, Molly was doing something very clever. She had just found Mac's lost glasses in the corn and was using them to focus a beam of light from the hatch onto the firework fuse, just like her father had showed her back on the island when they had made popcorn in a jar! The firework fuse smoked a little - then it ignited! Rocky was so proud of his daughter for remembering what he taught her. Looks like Molly is also her father's daughter as well. 🥰

A concerned Nick once again raised his health and safety concerns. In a flash, the rocket shot downwards. Flashes of light and loud bangs came from beneath the corn. A single piece of popcorn popped up, which Babs caught. Then lots more popcorn began to erupt. Babs put the corn in her mouth, commenting that it tastes nice and asked if there's any more. As soon as those words left her mouth, she got what she wanted! Babs and the rest of the gang were launched upwards on a tsunami of exploding popcorn! Rocky held on to Ginger and Molly as the whole gang shot out of the silo amongst a sea of popcorn. 🍿🍿🍿🍿

Throughout everything that had happened inside the building, Fowler had been on the roof waiting for them all this time. The old sausage had kept himself busy while the gang was gone by telling the snail all his RAF stories, and the poor creature was still trying slither away but hadn't made much progress. Fowler started to notice that it was raining popcorn, commenting that this good old British weather was so unpredictable that you never know what's coming next. Well he certainly didn't know that what came next was Bunty falling right on top of him. The rest of the gang had all began to land with a bump on the roof, one at a time. When they all landed, everyone cheered on their success of escaping from their corny challenge.

Just as always, our chicken and rat gang had found a way to escape from their situation. Now that they had Molly back, they can all fly this crazy coop and get back home safely before Mrs. Tweedy and any of her goons catch up with them.

[sebbbongs17]

"ZOMBIELAND in 560 days," a SEVENTEEN fanfic.

Summary: A young boy realizes what has been unleashed on the world and doesn't hesitate to survive along with other boys. Oh, and with a pretty moody girl too.

Genre: Humorous horror, suggestive, angst, crack, fluff.

Warnings: Clearly blood, bites, violence, weapons, stupid deaths and some dark humor.

Pairing: ot13 x fem!reader

A/N: English is not my first language so there may be some mistakes, so please excuse me. Also, this is not going to be that descriptive, so there may be several inconsistencies and nonsensical parts, but it's all fiction. xoxo ♡

Day 1; Act I. Do you really think I would walk all the way from home to here? No way!

Chan couldn't even explain to himself the adrenaline he was feeling right now as he ran down the hill, being chased by none other than bloodied people. Yup. You hear- well, read that right.

He had thought that having read so many comics and having seen so many zombie movies and survival documentaries would help him if one day a horrible apocalypse were to break out, but now he was beginning to believe that that wasn't the case at all. Because, look at him, he was a scared boy who was still sleeping with the door open at night. And he never believed that an apocalypse could ever happen! Like ever!

But it was.

And if you're wondering how the hell he figured it out, well... It all started less than twenty minutes ago perhaps, when he went out to his yard to water his lemons before going to school, like any other day. Chan immediately felt that something was off in the air and in the environment itself. And, then his elderly neighbor climbing the fence to bite him confirmed it even more. I mean, he wouldn't have complained if it had been her hot granddaughter instead, but back to the topic..

If you're also wondering why he didn't enter his house to take shelter, the answer is simple: he stayed locked outside. So his first instinct was to run outside, like any idiot would do, isn't?

But before focusing on the running thing and talk about his wrinkled uniform, let's delay a little, yeah?

09:25 AM.

Poor Lee Chan let out a deep sigh as he walked lazily through the halls of the school, feeling like his heavy backpack would break his spinal column at any moment. Today was tuesday. A very nice and sunny tuesday indeed, but as always, none of his days weren't meant to be good.

His eyelids and damp scalp were still itchy, but he tried not to scratch too much or he was afraid of getting irritated. And all thanks to those stupid senior boys who had no better plan than to have him as a punching bag whenever they wanted, and today was no exception since they saw the option of putting his head in a toilet that had chlorine water, as fun.

And the worst thing was that in the end he was the only one sitting in the director's office, receiving absurd lectures about things he clearly didn't do. But since the man in charge of the institute was the uncle of one of Chan's main bullies, he didn't pay absolute attention to Chan but to his innocent and responsible nephew, with the excuse that they were only boy's games and that he needed to get used to it. But who in their right mind would get used to receiving flying balls on the nose on purpose during gym class or shoving against lockers or even hard slaps behind the neck every morning, among horrible insults and petnames?

What's more, who in their right mind would call that a boy's game?

Chan tried to arrange his worn uniform as best he could and opened the door of the Principal's office, not even taking 3 steps inside that the voice of the man in charge stopped him.

"Ah ah, Mr. Lee, no one comes in before knocking on the door and receiving permission," the man indicated, making a mocking gesture with his fist. Chan looked at him with some hatred before bowing slowly and subtly turning around and closing the door behind him. Knocking three times on the door loudly. "Who is?"

Chan rolled his eyes. "Lee Chan, Mister," he responded under his breath, his patience still stable.

"Oh, come in, Lee Chan." The man exclaimed in a cheerful tone which he believed was completely false, but still he entered the room, closing the door again behind him and taking a seat in front of the desk, placing his backpack on the floor. "So, Lee, what other problem is there now?"

Chan looked at him strangely and pressed his lips into a grimace.

"Ah, sir, you summoned me," he said, obvious.

"Oh yeah right, well, the reason is that I have a proposal that may interest you." Mr. Kang said, looking at him like he was some kind of gangster.

Chan nodded slowly and somewhat suspiciously since this was something new. Principal Kang never offered him anything, even if it was something bad.

"So, what do you think of being the leader of the student committee?"

The boy raised his eyebrows in surprise and disbelief. "What? Me?"

"Yeah," the man nodded.

"Why?"

"Well, ignoring the part that you are a somewhat annoying student," Chan grimaced, as that was clearly a lie. "You have good grades and according to the teachers you maintain good behavior in class and activities. So, I would like you to be leader of the committee." Mr. Kang spoke, leaning over the desk.

"What do you say?" He asked.

"Well, unless it's a joke, I'd like that very much sir!" Chan exclaimed, smiling. "But, what happened to Yeonjun?" He questioned confused.

"The boy Yeonjun has suddenly changed of school, and since it's almost the end of the year, I can't afford to leave the committee without a present leader. So, you will be some kind of temporary leader until next year," He told him, with some tiredness. "You agree?" The man looked at him exasperated.

"Yes! Of course sir!" He nodded effusively.

"Very good then! You start your position tomorrow, so come to school early. Maybe an hour or two before the usual time," he said, already indicating him with his hand to leave.

Chan stood up and grabbed his backpack, feeling his cheeks hurt a little because of the huge smile he kept.

"Oh, and Chan.." Principal Kang stopped him just before he walked through the door.

"Yes?" The boy asked.

"Try to wear a more presentable and new uniform, you will be the head of the committee, not of some street gang." He told him, making a slight face, looking at his faded clothes.

Chan furrowed his eyebrows before nodding furtively.

"I sure will, sir, thank you!" He exclaimed before running out of there, smiling happily again.

He couldn't believe that finally the opportunity to be part of the committee, in fact, LEADER of the committee, had come to him. He had wanted to be one for several years, but strangely he had never been chosen no matter how high his grades were and instead, a boy from his same year, Choi Yeonjun, was chosen.

Chan was walking so happy through the hallways that he didn't pay attention to the mocking comments of his bullies, nor so much to the tremendous slap that one of them give him in the back of the head.

The boy left just in time when the bell rang indicated the end of the classes, causing scores of students to pile up the stairs to leave. As he made his way down the sidewalk, Chan visualized a group of three boys, one of them being the famous Kim Sunwoo, who seemed to be playing with what appeared to be a poor dead or almost dead animal, presumably a deer. He unconsciously formed a grimace of disgust, as these three fools laughed while poking the deer with sticks.

Suddenly, Sunwoo noticed Chan's displeased look, and quickly gave him a dirty look. "What the hell are you looking at, Lee? Go wait for your mommy somewhere else, worm," Sunwoo said in a mocking and rude manner, causing the silly laughter of his friends.

Chan just rolled his eyes slightly and just started his way home, trying to ease his bitterness by remembering that he would now be part of the committee. And looking forward to tomorrow...

Present.

Chan felt that at any moment his lungs would give away but surprisingly they didn't. Turning back, he saw how the bloodied ones were diverted and instead, they were going to attack another neighbor, who was just collecting his mail.

Hearing the poor guy's screams of horror and pain, Chan turned onto the last street. Which, ha!, had no way out. Great.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." He muttered agitatedly, looking back several times just in case.

Where the hell he was supposed to go right now? To the city? No, he didn't know if it was safe or not at this point. The countryside? Could be a possibility, but he didn't want to go alone.

He stood still for about two seconds before his mind clicked. Chan desperately seek through his pockets and let out a sigh of relief when he felt his phone in one of them. With trembling fingers he scrolled through the contact list and hesitantly pressed one of it.

1 ring...

2 ring...

3 ring...

"Hello?" A raspy and lazy voice was heard from the other line.

"HYUNG! Thank god! Where are you? You're ok? Nobody bite you, right? Tell me that you're safe right now..." Chan muttered at the speed of light.

"Chan, what the hell are you talking about? Why would someone bite me?"

"There's no time to explain, Jeonghan-ah! Whatever you do, don't leave your house and close the windows and doors with locks and cover them as much as possible," he indicated, starting to walk around.

"Woah, woah! Calm down kiddo. What's going on? Also, I can't do any of that since I'm not at home right now," Jeonghan muttered softly, not caring at all why Chan wanted him to do that.

"Huh?! Where are you then?!" The boy groaned against the phone.

"At the supermarket," he simply responded.

"Damn it... OK. Tell me which one. You have your car with you, isn't?" Chan's knees shook and almost best towards the floor due to nervousness, but he was able to straighten himself up.

"Obviously. Do you really think I would walk all the way from home to here? No way!" Jeonghan giggle, making Chan roll his eyes. "I'm on the Sansok one..." He finally told him after.

"Alright, don't move from there hyung! And don't interact with anyone, I'm on my way!" Chan said and without waiting for the older man to respond, he hung up and turned around, seeing where he could go.

The boy's head stuttered in various directions as he barely spotted a bicycle near the porche of one of the houses. Chan carefully reached out and took it, beginning to pedal clumsily, almost falling in the process.

Briefly thinking about how he was wearing his new uniform in vain today.

[•••]

The brunette sighed heavily as he put his phone back in his pocket.

"Who was it?" The other boy questioned, without looking at him, while continuing to examine the cereal boxes. 

"It was Channie. He sounded a little... weirded out," Jeonghan responded, dropping his weight onto the shopping cart.

"You asked him what was wrong? Maybe he had another nightmare again..." The guy finally turned to look at him as he was wearing a worried frown. "Or perhaps he smoked again that strange weed Soonyoung gave him."

"Oh, don't worry, Shua. It didn't seem like that... Well, actually, he didn't give me many convenient details. But I told him to come here if he was so worried," humming, Jeonghan walked to the ice cream section, closely followed by Joshua.

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Perfect Paradise Ch.22: You're Not a Demon, There's a Reason You Behaved In That Way

Summary: Pain of yesterdays.

-----------------------

"I'll talk to him."

"M Dupain-Cheng..."

"...only twelve."

"This is a very serious..."

"...make sure he understands that."

Hugo tried not to fidget with his ear on the door to the principal's office. Their voices muffled, Hugo caught only snippets of their conversation. There was the sound of someone rising to their feet and Hugo sprang backwards into his chair.

The door opened and closed behind Papa. He gave Hugo an unreadable look. "C'mon."

Awkward silence swallowed most of the ride home. Papa's brow furrowed as his fingers fidgeted with the ring on his finger. Even Gregor was subdued as he drove. Guilt and apprehension twisting Hugo's stomach into knots.

Instead of sending Hugo to his room Papa went into their home gym. "Shoes off."

"Huh?"

"Shoes off," he repeated, following his own instruction and removing the tie and dress shirt too. Leaving just his undershirt. Papa walked towards the long mats Emma used to practice her fencing.

"Legs shoulder width apart. Left- er, right foot forward. Bend your knees. Arms up." Papa corrected Hugo's stance.

Hugo was too confused to question him.

"Now," Papa clapped his hands together and held up his palms. "Hit me."

Okay, not that confused. "What? No, that isn't..."

"Your stance is off again Hugo."

"This isn't how it goes!" Hugo protested.

"What, did you expect me to ground you for a month with no video games?"

"Well... yeah."

Papa nodded. "We can do that instead if you want."

"... No," Hugo said quietly.

Papa flexed his fingers.

Hugo pressed his lips together as he retook his stance. Taking a deep breath he threw a punch into Papa's calloused hands.

 "Again. And put your weight into it this time!"

Hugo obliged. For several minutes they just trained. Hugo threw a punch. Adrien caught it. Made some small correction to Hugo's technique. Repeat.

"... Shouldn't you be wearing something to protect your hands?" Hugo asked.

"You can't hurt me, Hugo." There was something about the way Papa said it that made color rise in Hugo's face.

Hugo stopped, eyes blinking rabidly as the heat in his chest tried to escape through his eyes.

Papa placed his hands over Hugo's shaking fists. "Will you tell me what's wrong?" Papa asked gently.

"... He called Maman a golddigger," Hugo said in a small voice, shoulders hunched. It wasn't the first thing the boy had said. Or even the worst thing he ever said. But it was what made Hugo snap.

Papa sighed and Hugo fought between shame and indignation. Why should some jerk be able to say whatever he wanted about Maman? Why wasn't he being punished? It wasn't fair!

"I know," Papa said, and for a second Hugo thought he'd spoken out loud. Papa's hands squeezed Hugo's, kneeling so he was no longer looming over Hugo. "I know it's not fair. I'm not going to tell you he didn't deserve it."

Hugo blinked in surprise.

"You've got a strong sense of justice. That says good things about your character. But it's not enough to be right, Hugo. You have to be smart about it too. And it's not worth hurting yourself to hurt him."

Hugo rubbed at his sore knuckles.

Papa's eyes caught the movement. "I don't mean just physically. I mean here," -he pointed at Hugo's chest- "here," -his head- "and here." Papa's finger hovered over the stickers on Hugo's sleeve before landing on the one with the school emblem.

Hugo scowled at that last one.

"If you can avoid antagonizing authority figures you can maneuver them into doing what you want," Papa explained. "And if you can't you make sure they regret it."

"... Aren't you supposed to tell me to respect authority figures?"

Papa blinked. "Why would I do that? People in authority need to earn your respect just like anyone else. More even."

Hugo said nothing but the shame slithering around his insides seemed to calm just a fraction.

Papa released Hugo's hands, rose to his feet and held out his palms again.

Grasping his invitation Hugo threw a punch and... It didn't connect. His fist stopped a hand span away from Papa's palm. Like he'd hit a pillow made of air. Hugo's eyes went wide.

"How- How did you do that!?"

Instead of answering the invisible force around Papa pushed out. Enveloping Hugo like a warm breeze. Buffeting him with... Love. Concern. Fear. Compassion. Pride. Anger. The bend and weave of it glided over Hugo's skin.

This time Hugo didn't try to stop the tears from falling. For a moment Hugo could see the green aura rising from patterns of flame on Papa's skin. Then he blinked and it was gone.

Papa's presence faded slowly from the air. "Anger is a very useful emotion. As long as you know how to control it. Direct it into something more."

Not trusting his voice Hugo nodded. Wiping at his eyes.

"Which means-" Papa placed a comforting hand on Hugo's shoulder "-for the next two weeks we're going to focus on your self control."

So they did. Papa ran Hugo through various exercises both physical and mental so he could bend without breaking. Taught Hugo how to choose his actions so he could win a fight without ever throwing a single punch. It became routine even after Hugo returned to school.

Only later did he realize Papa had talked the principal down to suspension instead of expulsion.

-----------------------

Silence echoed in the vast cavern. The shelves of books swallowing any sound as Adrien gazed down at his kids. Their expressions some combination of shock and disbelief.

Emma's body was limp on the couch. Not realizing her mouth was open. Next to her Louis bored a hole through the floor with his eyes as he hugged his knees to his chest. On his other side Hugo's face burned as his hands curled into fists.

Adrien resisted the urge to fiddle with his ring as the quiet stretched. The vice on his heart squeezing tighter and tighter in the endless seconds.

Read the rest on AO3

Commission by illuminati_png

[upontherisers]

hii cari, could i please request [ euphoric ] for a celebratory kiss for mahalia and bucky, either canon or au? — @shoshiwrites

a/n: can you tell i listened to california by chappell roan on repeat while i wrote this lmao. the operative word here is celebratory, i think. [ euphoric ] for a celebratory kiss

Baker reports back with all of his usual gruffness. “We leave at 1900 hours.”

“Another night march?” John asks. 

“Yeah,” the colonel replies, “but I told them we won’t go more than twenty kilometers a night, and they agree.” He nods to some of the lieutenants. “Spread the word.”

John watches them shoulder through the rain until they disappear into the maze of dirty tents pitched aimlessly in the barren field the Germans insist on calling a camp. A whole lotta fuckin’ nothing, Mahalia likes to say. He agrees; the decimated ground is no place to live, just another place to die.

Baker calls him before he and Buck can head out and prepare with the rest of the men. “Major Egan.”

“Yessir?” He nods to Buck, go. This’ll be quick and they don’t have much time. 

The colonel waits for the last of the men to go before turning to him, his mouth pressed into an uneasy line. “There’s something else,” he says, and then he tells John the news.

She’s still asleep when he gets back to their section of tents, tucked under his coat on the cot George helped them scrounge from the Canadians. Despite the flurry of movement around her—Hambone shoving the last of the Red Cross rations into his bag, Crank wrapping his letters in a scarf to keep them dry, Alex and Richard splitting extra gloves and socks among some friends that they met up with from the 332nd—Mahalia is still, and it takes him a moment to catch the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Same as yesterday and the days before, it’s getting harder to know if she’s still with him.

Vera catches him as he enters and nods toward Mahalia’s bed. “I tried to wake her up, but she’s not—”

A wave turns her back to packing and he exhales with a low whistle, sliding down the wall to sit next to Mahalia. “So much for no secrets, huh?” 

No response, no signs of life except for her watery, rattling breaths. He thuds his head into the wood behind him and tries to focus, but he’s never felt like this before, like he’s going to crawl out of his skin, like his head’s on fucking fire and his hands are completely numb. There are things he needs to do—gather his things, check Alex’s maps—but he can’t. His chest heaves with the effort to stay where he is instead of stepping out into the rain, finding a guard, and punching until he sees blood.

Buck finds him there half an hour later and after tossing John his bag, he nudges at him with his foot. “What is it?”

He tells him, repeats everything Baker told him about the transport and the exchange, and when he’s finished, Buck nods slowly before looking around. “Stuttgart, where’s that?”

Alex pipes up from the other end of the tent. “West, towards Fran—”

“I know that, fuck!” John snaps, louder and harsher than he means to, and the tent grinds to a halt.

He feels like he’s dying with everyone’s eyes on him and the burning feeling that floods his chest pushes him to his feet and out into camp. He doesn’t know where he’s going as he weaves through the tents, past the Russians and the Canadians, everything looking the goddamn same—stale, lifeless, dead on its feet—until he reaches the fence. The sight of guards and the blighted field that runs up to the ashes of Nuremberg is instantly sobering, and Buck’s right behind him as he turns to go back.

Silence eats away the minutes as he paces. His thoughts move faster than he can keep them—he can’t—there has to be something, another way. This can’t be—this isn’t— 

“John,” Buck says, and he doesn’t realize he can’t breathe until he’s bent over, heaving toward the dirt. Buck thumps at his back once and he can’t stand it. He jolts away and stumbles back into camp like he’s being drawn along on a string and falls back into place against the wall next to Mahalia without a word to the wide-eyed expressions of his friends. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks. 

She stirs but doesn’t wake.

A prisoner exchange, American women for a few Nazi commandos, part of a campaign back in the States to ‘get our girls home.’ Mahalia ended up on a list when the Red Cross came through a few weeks ago; they didn’t like the look of her leg. High priority, they said. And she knew, she knew and she didn’t tell him, and now she can’t. She can’t do much of anything—walk, speak, eat. Baker asked them to start taking shifts with her overnight, just in case, and now he knows why. They were keeping her alive.

He sits with her until nightfall, until he’s the last man in the tent, everyone else making their way toward the gate, when the colonel arrives with two German medical personnel bearing a stretcher. He helps them lift her and she groans in pain as they move her, skin and bones now, and her hand twitches as they settle her between the two poles. 

Her cracked, bleeding lips move once, twice and he calls out before they can take her away. “Wait, wait.”

It’s still for a second, and then he hears it.

“John?” she rasps.

His blood runs cold as he gathers her fragile hand in his. “I know, I know,” he says, leaning down and brushing a few curls off her forehead, pressing his lips against her feverish skin. “You did it, Mahalia. You’re going home.”

“John, I…” It's too much effort to go on.

It’s the most she’s said in three days, his name. He wishes she’d open her eyes so he could get one last look into the blazing, ruthless dark, so she’d know that it’s okay. After everything her country’s put her through, after everything he’s put her through, it’s okay. She fought to the end of her war, and she’ll get the hero’s welcome she deserves. 

All he can do is kiss the back of her hand and lay it back at her side.

“They’re gonna take care of her, Major,” Baker says as they accompany her stretcher to the gate. It feels like the walk after his father passed, the rain-slicked mud underfoot as they followed his casket from the church to the graveyard.

He’s the surest he’s ever been that this is the end of his life as he watches the truck they loaded her into split off from the column, headed right as they continue south. His blood boils in his veins, screaming at him to do something—run, fight, kill. If he dies on this road, she gets to live, gets to see Lake Michigan again, gets to watch her beloved Red Wings play, gets to walk in the sun where everyone who sees her knows who she is and what she’s done. 

The truck disappears down a westbound path, taking his last hope of home with it.