#he really oiled up his whole chest damn

[mancandykings]

DANNY RAMIREZ Vanity Fair Oscar Party March 12, 2023

[slater-baby]

The 141 and their massage therapist...

Yeah so I have horrible carpal tunnel and this....yeah just HEAR ME OUT

!!!DUB CON!!!

The 141 take their training pretty seriously. However, their line of military work is no stranger to service related injuries. Back pain, ankle sprains, muscle cramps - you name it and the 141 has had it. And that is where you come in: the cheap, young, and inexperienced massage therapist charged with taking care of them. You're fresh out of school and still working to get your footing, but you'll be damned if you don't take care of these veterans to the best of your ability.

Though, as life would have it, you take care of a lot more than just the occasional crick in the neck.

-

Price is older than you. That, and very obviously used to being in control. His rank and reputation give him away. Even at your first meeting, you feel silently infatuated with his stature. He's kind and charming, used to cracking jokes, but also used to things going his way. He's confident and mature - something you're very much lacking.

And from the moment you first shake his hand, one thing becomes very, very obvious: his attraction to you is completely unashamed.

Sprawled out on your table with just a towel covering his bulging cock, meaty hands swiping over the hair on his chest while he waits for you to get the oils ready.

"Ready whenever you are, darling."

And the whole time, you can't help but shiver in flustered admiration at his big biceps and chest, hands nearly shaking with trepidation at the beautiful, tempting mass of man beneath you.

And like the shameless man that he is, he absorbs every single second of it. He flexes his arms in your grip, just to watch the way heat rushes to your cheeks. He purposefully edges the towel down a bit lower, just so that you'll bite your lip when the tip of his cock just barely peeks over the top of it.

He's not ashamed to be exposed to you. Hell, he likes it. Likes watching the way you fawn over his bare arms and built legs, likes watching you try to hide the way you bite your lip every time you pour a bit more oil over his skin.

He's always polite and kind.

"Little bit more to the left, darling?"

He always says please and thank you.

And yet, he can't help but tease you with the promise of his naked body, brush his arm against you when he readjusts his position on the table. And when he gets redressed and walks you back to the front desk after each appointment, his hand never fails to rest on your lower back, guiding you along with him, letting you bask in his scent and touch.

And one day, as you're massaging his arm, he sees you crossing your legs like it'll give you even an ounce friction between your thighs. You can't hide the obvious heat in your eyes when he reaches over the edge of the table and ever so slightly brushes over the back of your thigh, reaching up to trace the pretty little your panties make underneath your trousers.

"Sweetheart," he drawls, feeling the way your hand clenches around his skin the harder he traces the panty lines down in between your legs, "Think it's about time I took care of you instead now, yeah?"

Needless to say, it's the first time you've ever been laid out on your own massage table. Though, judging by the way John leaves a trail of hickeys from your waist to neck, you'll soon be doing it again.

-

If Gaz is anything, he's an absolute sweetheart. He reminds you of the boys you met in college. Y'know, the kind of guys you were partnered up with for group discussions? Smiley, sweet, almost idyllic. Idly, you admit you found them cute for a fleeting moment. Perhaps you imagined for a couple seconds what it might be like to go on a date with them. Usually, it stopped there.

But Gaz...

With his lean, hard-earned muscles and spotless skin, he looked like the star in all of your college boyfriend fantasies - with the D1 physique to go with it.

He's talkative and has no shortage of funny jokes. The two of you become fast friends.

Only, it's really hard to concentrate on conversation when your hands get to run over each and every inch of his covetable body. His defined hipbones, veiny forearms, and muscled calves. You find yourself drifting into thought as your hands run from his neck to his shoulder, all the way down to his pristine fingertips.

You're nearly salivating as you watch the way his biceps bend and curve underneath your hands.

"Love," he suddenly shocks you out of your reverie, "Did you hear what I said?"

"Uh--no," you admit, hurriedly pulling your eyes away from where the dimples of his back disappear beneath the towel and onto the boring, beige walls, "Sorry, it's just been a long day."

"No worries," he chuckles, that same, friendly smile on his face.

Only, when he turns to lay his face back onto the table with a roll of his perfect shoulders, you swear you hear a muffled "looked like something caught your eye for a second there..."

And like that, the two of you continue on. Him, making joke after joke - getting more and more suggestive as the days go on.

One day, after a particularly rough work out, you manage to wrangle him on the table. His sore legs scream for help with every massaging touch.

"Fuck," he curses, legs shaking in your hand, "Can you go a bit easier, love? Think I'm liable to pass out at this rate."

You chuckle, pressing into the spot harder, "Trust me, you'll feel better after this."

"I dunno," he grunts, biting his cheek, "Look, it usually means that something feels good when my legs start shaking. But this is just--fuck--"

His words are cut off by a wince, but they stick in your mind nonetheless. A notable runner-up comes a week later. You'd twisted your ankle at the gym just an hour before Kyle's appointment. Your foot had been so sore you'd had a hard time standing straight.

"You okay? Need some Tylenol or something?" he'd commented, worried.

"It's nothing, just twisted it," you'd brushed him off with a smile, "I'll take care of it when I get home."

"You sure?" he'd laughed, looking down at your ankle, "It looks like it hurts. Might just have to trade places with you today, get you on the table instead."

You'd laughed along and made some snide joke about him trying to get out of another painful session. And yet, you can't deny that his voice had lingered in your head long after he'd left the room that day.

It all comes to a head one week when you misjudge the time of your appointment with Kyle and accidentally walk in five minutes early...

...Only to see him with his jeans halfway down the hips you'd been massaging not two days earlier, a big, covered bulge front and center of his unzipped fly. And from the minute you walk in, you swear you can feel the heat building between the two of you. And when that friendly smile drops, you know one thing for sure now: Gaz had never wanted to settle for "just friends" to begin with.

When he gently reaches for your wrist to pull you into the room, bending you over the massage table this time, it's safe to say his strong hands, beautiful body, and hard cock put all of your fantasies to shame. That, and he's decidedly unfriendly when he steals your phone out of your purse, wordlessly entering his phone number while you're still sexed out and dazed on top of the massage table.

-

Ghost, however, is not friendly. Not friendly in the slightest.

Your first meeting - if it could even be counted as one - consisted of about two words and about ten awkward grunts from the masked man. When you handed him the consent forms, your hands felt like they were dripping with sweat. And when he ended up on your table a week later, you almost felt like you were being held at gunpoint when you uncorked the bottle of oil.

He was silent the entire time. Well, for the most part. His only interactions with you consisted of low, breathy sighs as you worked through a knot. Or a small, wordless grunts when you found a spot that he liked. If he found your hands slowing in their ministrations, your eyes lingering on where his scarred pelvis disappeared beneath the towel, he'd snap you back to attention with a single command.

"Love," he'd growl, muscles tensing dangerously underneath your hands, "This is your job, innit? So do it then."

And even if you still harbored the smallest bit of wariness about the guy, you had to admit:

Ghost was big. Like, really, really big.

His feet nearly dangled off of your table with how tall he was. He had to fold his arms underneath his head because his shoulders were too broad to fit on the cushions. You can't even fit your fingers around one half of his massive arm. And his hands - god, his hands. They looked almost twice the size of your own. Some small, timid part of you muses, "if he started swinging, he'd take me out with one hit."

But the other, more prominent side of you thinks...

He would have no problem pinning you underneath him, popping the buttons on your shirt, spreading your legs. He could pick you up, push you against the wall, and take what he wanted - fuck you hard enough that your coworkers could hear it through the drywall.

And then all those breathy groans he tried so hard to muffle in the crook of his elbow would be well and truly yours.

And with those thoughts coursing through your mind...really, it isn't a surprise when he finds your eyes lingering on where the towel covers his half-hard cock. After so many appointments watching you try to hide your obvious attraction to him, he found you looking at his crotch a lot these days.

And when you begin massaging his abs, running your hands down from his plush pectorals to the beginning of the v-line on his pelvis, he doesn't miss the way your hands twitch against his hipbone. Like this, leaned over him, you can barely see the tip of his cock pressed up against his belly button, drops of precum gathering in the hair there.

So lost in your own trance, you don't even register that your hands have stopped moving until he emits an amused scoff. And when his calloused hand pushes yours away, using the tip of his finger to fold the towel back just enough to expose his leaking cock to your eager eyes, you can't even begin to deny the way your blood boils in your veins.

"You're staring," he tells you lowly, watching how you bite your lips at every twitch of his dick.

"M'sorry," your stunted voice replies, "It's just that you're so...big."

"Mm," he hums, reaching down to give himself a teasing tug; the oil lubes him up nicely, "Big in the ways that count."

You don't reply, you only watch him touch himself with rapt attention, practically drooling.

"You wanna touch me here too?" he teases, getting off on the clueless flush you wear, "It's your job, innit? So do it, slag."

As a massage therapist, you took pride in taking away your patients' pain. Sprains, aches, limps - they all cowered before you. And yet, when you leave your own office with a limp in your step and a ten digit phone number scrawled on the back of your hand, you can do nothing more than smile.

It's safe to say your clothes are well and truly ruined by the time you make it home. And it wasn't from the massage oil.

-

Soap is...well, he's just as bombastic as he is in the field on your table.

In the beginning, he was a bit awkward. He flinched and shocked every time you hit a sore spot, a red flush high on his cheeks. For the first few appointments, he can barely field a conversation with you. And even when he gets over his stunted silence, he can hardly keep the stutter out of his voice. For his sake, you try not to laugh anytime he makes an awkward comment.

However, Johnny has always been a firecracker. He throws himself into each and every challenge without a second thought. And while it's paid off nicely in his professional life, it hasn't always been kind on his body.

As the weeks go on, he shows up on your table more often than anyone else. He even manages to nag you into a few private sessions just to ease his aching back after particularly grueling workouts.

"C'mon, bonnie," you hear his familiar whine over the phone, "Gimme twenty minutes. Just twenty. I dinnae mean to whinge, but the Cap'n's cross today. Had me running laps 'til I keeled over. M'legs feel like toothpicks."

And more often than not, you give in to his demands.

While Johnny sometimes eats away at your personal time, you can't help but take a liking to him. After all, his sunny personality and witty turn of phrase would keep anyone entertained. It's just...his brawny body doesn't fail to be the star of every single wet dream you could ever conjure. His thighs are massive and strong, and his chest looks so muscled and soft you can't help but dream of laying against them.

And it certainly doesn't help that his sore body oftentimes makes him the most vocal out of all four of them. That, and his entire body seems to come alight underneath your fingertips with every bruising touch.

"Oh, fuck," his hand shoots out suddenly to grab you around the wrist, pressing you harder into where you're massaging his hip, "Just like that, bonnie. Fuck, you're so good at that..."

And as the weeks go on, you can't help but work harder and harder, relishing in every groan and praise that drops from his lips.

"God, you're perfect," he tells you one night as you massage his thigh.

"Can you--can you go just a bit lower? It's just...my hip's fucked. Can't even walk straight," he chuckles with another week, his pale face deepening into a sheepish, red blush. Looking away from your face, he edges down the towel to expose his sore hip. The next groan he lets out is stifled, his arm thrown over his face - as if the two of you still had even a shred of decency left between each other.

And now that you've solidified your friendship, he's not as awkward anymore. Yes, he still flushes when you first walk in, his nude body on display. But the minute you begin to work into his tense muscles, it all washes away.

Only, during one session, you begin to notice how your hands have a different effect on him than you'd ever seen before.

You're massaging his hip again, pressing into it with nearly your full weight. After a week of hard work, Johnny's beyond decorum, biting into his lip as he tries to stifle loud, relieved moans with each and every knead.

And when you hit one sweet spot in particular, you don't miss a twitch beneath the towel.

"Right there," he tells you breathlessly, "That's - that's where it hurts."

And just like he tells you, you press into it again. And with every move, you watch him get harder and harder beneath the cover, the muscles in his legs tensing while you work through the knot. The towel skews to the side, and even as his aching, red cock is exposed to the air, he hardly takes notice - too caught up in your touch to think straight.

"God, bonnie," he grunts roughly, jerking beneath you hands, "Fuck--"

And to your (pleasant) surprise, the next move finds more than just oil lubing up your palms.

He cums with a grunt, untouched, naked beneath your eyes. And you watch as his ejaculate paints up and over his slick abs, his entire stomach clenching while he rides out the pleasure.

At the very least, he has the sense to be embarrassed about it. For a good moment, he can do nothing more than sit there panting, his arm over his eye while he hurriedly pulls the towel back up.

"I'm - God, I'm sorry, bonnie. I swear I didn't mean to," he blurts out, uncovering his eyes to send you a look of desperate sincerity.

However, when he sees you staring down at his slick, semen covered stomach, an undeniable heat in your eyes...

Well, the shame flees to the back of his mind. Without even trying, he's hard underneath the towel within minutes. And at your lack of a reply, he can't help but cut into your personal time just one more time.

"Bonnie..." he asks, trying to hide the eager look in his eye, "Think we could go another twenty minutes? I promise I'll make it worth your while."

-

HM YEP OKAY WOW CAN YOU TELL THESE GET LONGER AND LONGER THE MORE I THINK ABOUT THEM lkjaljdsflkafj

anyway ;-; this is me venting after a very long week at school. Hope you guys enjoyed ❤️

[obxsummer]

chaotic // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: a quick glimpse down memory lane before the group heads to charleston where you and john b are placed on cemetery duty. good thing a sibling intervention was needed and john b's hit with the heavy realization that you'd been left with more than superficial scars from the camerons.

warnings: ptsd, non-consensual drug use, angst, rafe cameron, typical obx violence, ward cameron being a dickhead, almost kidnapping?

a/n: good luck, godspeed, & listen to chaotic by tate mcrae

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything

--

“Would you do this to your sister?”

Rafe stared at you, horrified, as you hummed on the bed from the effects of the heavy indica based oil he’d put in your drink. You were practically on a cloud, and he was surprised you even had the energy to speak. You’d never asked him anything, just begged him to stop and let go, but never this.

“What?”

You forced yourself up to a sitting position, practically fluttering at the pain relief he’d given you. Rafe spent more time in this room with you, just talking and yelling and taking his anger out on you because you were there. You usually didn’t bother to comment back, just taking whatever he’d give because you’d given up on the idea of life getting any better. 

“Would you put Sarah through this?” You repeated, eyes blinking quickly at him. 

Rafe bent down to snort the line of white powder he’d organized on your calf; any other surface in the room and his dad would notice (or that’s what he told himself). “The fuck are you talking about?”

“I mean, John B would never do this to your sister, so why the hell are you doing it to his?”

The question caught Rafe off guard more than he expected. His dad had practically ruined his relationships with everyone he’d come to know. Except you, Ward had broken you into the perfect little companion for Rafe. There was no running away, nobody to come save you. So, in his own little twisted way, he really liked having you around. You were his.

“I don’t have to answer you,” Rafe replied weakly, knowing damn well he would’ve never allowed anything like that to happen to Sarah. Not…no? Maybe. He didn’t know anymore and his brain wasn’t working correctly now with the drugs in his system.

You sighed, “Okay.” Flopping back on the bedding, you stared at the ceiling. Your heartbeat was in your ears and it felt like time was passing so slowly.

“Would you ever forgive John B if he did that?”

You shook your head and gave him a thumbs down. “John B would never do that. And if he did, I’d never speak to him again.”

The statement hurt. As much as Rafe tried to convince himself that you were wrong, it hurt. He wanted to be good, to be worthy of someone’s love and attention. He’d tried his whole life to but he kept fucking up. That’s why he was leaning on you. You were fixing that hole in his chest whether you knew it or not.

“Would you ever talk to me again?” Rafe stared at the bland walls as he spoke.

A moment of silence filled the room before he turned to see if you were still awake. Your eyes remained unblinking, the rise and fall of your chest in a steady motion the only sign that you were still alive. 

“You’re really scaring me,” You answered honestly. Your mind was silent, the only thing running through it was Rafe’s question, so you had no reason to lie to him. “You’re hurting me. You’re really hurting me and I don’t understand why.”

Rafe turned away when you started crying, your form shivering in an adrenaline drop as you rolled onto your side away from him. He sat silently until your breathing evened out, eyes closing as you fell into an induced slumber before he turned the lights off and left the room, locking the door as he did.

--

John B was worried.

Let’s be clear, as the eldest of the group, John B worried often, but when it came to you, he always was. 

Everything was off since you and Kie had returned from the shop and it was practically a red flag waving in front of his face. Neither of you said anything but it was obvious from the timing of everything paired with tear tracks on your faces that something happened. He just had to wait it out for more details.

Revealing everything to Kie had brought up a lot of buried feelings and although you wanted nothing more than to hide away, you didn’t want to risk staying home by yourself. You were quiet the entire ferry ride, claiming you were tired and needed a nap so nobody would question your lack of energy. That didn’t mean you missed out on the conversations around you, eavesdropping your way into John B’s awkward insinuation of moving into the next step with Sarah.

The topic pulled tears to your eyes as you thought about the idea with JJ. Would you guys stay in Kildare? Would you move somewhere, or stay here and carry out a different kind of life that neither of you had experienced?

“So based on the captain’s log, Blackbeard’s in his ship, the Adventure, somewhere out there, and they’re being pursued by the British Royal Navy, right? So, he comes to shore, takes a bunch of hostages. They called it the, um, the-“

“Oh, the uh, the Blockade of Charleston. That was eighth-grade history.” John B interrupted Pope’s story with such confidence it almost brought you out of your shitty mood.

You walked slowly behind them, head covered by one of John B’s old Kildare High hoodies, the sweater paws keeping you warm. Kie was a few steps ahead of you, walking next to Sarah. Every now and then she would spare a glance back to make sure you were still there. Cleo walked ahead of everyone else, knife twirling between her fingers with murder on her mind. She would get her revenge on Terrance’s behalf.

Your attention drifted from John B and Pope’s conversation to your phone where your messages to JJ had gone unanswered. You knew he could hold his own, but you hated the thought of leaving him in search of his dad, not that he would’ve let you go anyway.

“Come on, Birdie.” John B had slowed his pace to walk along your side, his hand grabbing yours so you’d drop your head on his shoulder. “Wanna talk?”

You shook your head slightly but squeezed his hand in appreciation that he was here. Pope was busy solving the riddle left by the amulet that had brought you here.

“Wait, I have a question. So, if we’re talking about caskets, that doesn’t mean we’re going to another cemetery, right?”

You laughed softly at John B’s question, leaning further into his side as the six of you continued walking down the cobblestone street. The walk continued much longer than you would’ve liked, your mind and body ready to lay down for a little and reset.

“You know what’s been bothering me?” Pope asked after the sun had set and you’d walked a good 5 miles. “Blackbeard has a treasure he desperately wants to keep. He’s being pursued by the British Royal Navy. They’re blockading the entire city. Yet he finds time to make coffins to bury his cook and navigator?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, time out. Time out, time out. Dude, he definitely put something in those coffins.”

“Are you dumb.” You let go of John B’s hand to stop in front of him, giving him a blank look. He looked offended as you walked away from him, shaking your head as you did. It was quite obvious that you were looking for treasure hidden in the coffins.

“Half Moon, Half Moon Battery, where the living and the dead collide, which I figure is a cemetery, which means all we have to do is figure out where-“

“The North Star is?” Sarah finished Pope’s thought as she raised her hand to point to a stained-glass window of the church on the corner. You shrugged at her find, figuring it made sense to at least give it a shot.

John B wrapped an arm around his girlfriend. “Sarah Cameron, have I told you I love you lately?”

Pope stared at the colored object for a few more seconds before turning to address all of you. “Here’s the plan, alright? I’m gonna need you and you for diversions. You’re coming with me, I need to check something in the church. And you two are on cemetery duty.”

That put Sarah and Cleo on distractions, Kiara going with Pope, and you were left with John B for cemetery duty.

“Wait, what?” You asked as you looked around the darkness surrounding you and your brother seemed to be on the same page. “Don’t leave us out here!”

“Look for the gatekeeper in the cemetery,” Pope explained as the remainder of the group started walking toward the entrance. “Be so safe!”

You rolled your eyes at the ongoing joke, turning to face John B. “We just got benched.”

“Yep, where the living and dead collide, the Routledges will provide. Awesome,” He grumbled and walked around the gate to enter the graveyard area. “It’s not real, they’re dead. It’s gonna be fine, we’ll be fine.”

You sighed and let him rant away to himself as you found a spot on the stairs to claim for the upcoming time. Pulling John B’s hoodie sleeves further over your hands, you shivered with the cool night breeze.

“So, are you gonna tell me what the hell is going on or am I going to have to drag it out of someone else?” John B took a seat next to you and cracked his knuckles like it would make him any tougher. 

As much as you loved Kie, you knew she wasn’t good at keeping secrets, and you wanted to talk to John B before she went running. Your teeth pulled at the chapped skin of your lips before you answered, “I heard you on the ferry, talking to Sarah about starting a family.”

He seemed confused for a moment before his cheeks burned red. “Oh, that’s awkward. Um, that… that should’ve been a more private conversation and-”

“Would you hate Sarah if she didn’t have kids?”

The question wasn’t one John B anticipated. Out of all the things you guys had talked about before, raising a family wasn’t one discussed. With your own family relationship being rocky, John B never knew where you stood on the idea and if you’d ever want that for yourself (and JJ, but he tried not to think about that).

“No, n-no. I would be sad, of course, but I wouldn’t hate her. She totally dodged the idea, though so you don’t have to worry about-”

“Would you leave her?”

John B frowned and blinked at you, but you still weren’t looking at him. He wasn’t used to you asking about his relationship in this kind of way. “Why are you asking this?”

You pushed a shaky breath from your lips and let your head drop to your knees. God, you wished JJ was here. He deserved to hear this from you first, but he wasn’t, and you didn’t know when he would be.

“John B, I can’t have kids.” You turned to watch his expression as he processed your words. Your eyes were warm with tears while a million emotions crossed his face.

“What?” John B didn’t know what else to say. You guys were barely adults, and this topic shouldn’t even be a thought in your mind with the current living conditions and lack of funding you all had. But you were his little sister, and his heart was breaking as you spoke. “Can’t or won’t?”

Tugging on the sleeves of the hoodie again, you looked down. “Can’t. Physically unable. Never going to happen.”

John B paused at the coldness in your voice. You were obviously upset but he still wasn’t sure where all of this was coming from. Plus, let’s be real. John B was a teenage boy at the end of the day; female anatomy was not his strong suit in any way. “Oh, okay. Um, is there like a problem or-”

“Rafe caused it.”

--

The Cameron house was cold. Sunlight filled the room, casting some warmth across the hardwood floor but you made no effort to enjoy it. Rose had just dropped a salad off at the door and told you that DCS would be visiting today, to get your shit together and not to mess anything up or Ward would go after your friends. You didn’t know whether to believe him or not, but you had nothing left to go off of. You hadn’t seen your friends in weeks, and you didn’t know if they even bothered to look for you.

DCS had yet to make any checkups on you and your brother since your dad disappeared, minus the one that John B narrowly avoided by jumping from the car when you thankfully weren’t home. You figured Ward had paid them off for so long, but now that John B was lost to sea, they were likely to get suspicious. 

Which meant they were coming to talk to you. Alone.

Perfect.

Forcing your tired and bruised body to your feet, you made your way into the attached bathroom to soak under the hot water and formulate a plan. If DCS did opt to talk to you, there had to be a way to get a silent SOS across. You didn’t know how, but you would come up with something, even if Rafe and Ward followed your every move. 

After soaking up most of the hot water, you finished getting ready for the day, pulling on a pair of shorts and one of John B’s t-shirts that had gotten mixed in your laundry. It would only be a matter of time before they’d come knocking at the door to collect you for show and tell.

Your eyes moved over everything in the room with hope something would pop up with an answer for all of your problems. And then you remembered the remaining food tray in the room. Ward or whoever dropped food to you typically left plastic wear to prevent you from using the typicaly cutlery as a resource, but that wasn’t the case today. Your eyes caught the metal knife that was intended to cut the meal, but you hadn’t touched it.

You grabbed the piece in your hand and moved slowly to to the door, running over JJ’s instructions in your head on how to possibly pop the lock using the tool. Pushing it between the door and the wall, you felt around for the horizontal lock, struggling to move it over. And then there was a pop, and your heart started racing.

Pressing your ear against the door, you listened for footsteps and voices, anything that would give you a warning of someone being nearby. When you didn’t hear anything, your fingers gently twisted the doorknob as far as it would go. A soft click told you it was yours to open as you pleased, so you did so, slowly.

The hallway was dim minus the sunlight leaking in from other rooms and your eyes caught sight of the large grandfather clock to your side. The ticking of the hands echoed down the silent hallway and you stood frozen for a moment before taking your first steps out. 

And nothing.

No yelling, no alarms, no impromptu body tackles to the floor. You could make this. You could make a run for it and they would be none the wiser until DCS was here.

Walking slowly down the hallway, you came to the foyer area where you could hear whispers from the kitchen filtering through. Moving into Sarah’s room, you glanced around for something, anything, that would help you get out of here without any suspicion. 

“Go get her. They’ll be here soon and I need to make sure she’s not going to run her mouth.”

“Dad, she’s going to-”

“Now, Rafe.”

You held your breath as Rafe mumbled an agreement and the sound of his footsteps echoed through the open room as he ascended the stairs. You needed to move, and move fast. Rafe cursed down the hall, likely figuring out that the door was unlocked and you clutched the butter knife tighter in your hand like it would offer any protection.

Ducking into Sarah’s walk-in closet, you scrambled to find an old phone or even her laptop if she’d left it behind but came up empty. “Shit,” You whispered to yourself and bent down to pull on a pair of her gym shoes since yours had been destroyed from years of wear. If nothing else, you needed to prepare to run. 

Grabbing a black hoodie from her shelves, you slipped it on over your t-shirt and pulled the hood up to keep your face hidden as much as possible. You would only have one shot at this, and you needed to make it count. 

Moving slowly toward Sarah’s bedroom door, you waited to see if you could hear Rafe’s presence down the hall but silence followed. The doorbell rang, Ward yelling out for his son in hopes that he would bring you down but Rafe didn’t answer.

“Hi, I’m Rebecca Sinclair with DCS. I’m presuming you’re Mr. Cameron.” 

Risking the step into the open, you walked out of Sarah’s room and kept your body pressed against the wall so you would be out of view for Ward and the DCS rep but could see their conversation.

“That would be me. Come in, can I get you something to drink?”

Rebecca shook her head. “This should be fairly quick. Where is Miss Routledge? I have to do an individual check in with her and then one with you as the legal guardian.”

“Let me go see where she’s at. She’s been having a really hard time with the loss of her brother and my daughter. They were such good friends, and-”

“Miss Routledge, please, Mr. Cameron.”

The DCS rep clearly wasn’t putting up with Ward. You took the chance to step forward into view, your mouth opening to yell out before someone’s hand clamped over your face and an arm yanked you back from view. You screamed against the action, the sound echoing throughout the hall.

“Apologies, she’s been crying all day. I’ll go grab her.”

Body thrashing, you attempted to pull out of Rafe’s grasp but he doubled down on his grip, even when you attempted to bite his hand. 

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll kill you!” He hissed in your ear as he dragged you down the hallway back into the room you’d seen for days upon days. Rafe tried to close the door as quietly as possible while still corralling you in his arms.

He slammed you against the bed covers, knee driving into your stomach as he kept his hand over your mouth. You cried out at the force, tears springing to your eyes at the pain that followed. You tried to push against his chest so he would get off, his other hand tightening around your throat causing the air to stop its way into your lungs.

You choked, eyes going wide as you stared back at him in hopes that he would find some sort of empathy and forgiveness, but cold eyes met yours. 

“I told you to shut the fuck up, you useless Pogue. I should kill you for-”

“Rafe.” Ward’s voice was demanding enough that his son stopped speaking but continued to glare at you. “Move your hand.”

Rafe complied, taking his hand from your throat but keeping the one on your mouth. You continued to push at him until he dropped more of his weight into the knee on your stomach and you cried again.

Ward’s face came into view, his sickly fake smile on his face as he held a small syringe into your view. “You could’ve just listened, you know? And we wouldn’t have to go to these lengths.”

He wasn’t gentle as he pushed the needle into your skin, subjecting you to whatever sedative he’d claimed good enough to handle your outburst. 

Your body went quiet within seconds, muscles relaxing and a numbness spreading from limb to limb. Your imaginary fight with Rafe ended and tears fell from your eyes at the helpless feeling. After a moment, Rafe moved his hand and shifted off of you as Ward tossed a spare blanket over your form.

“Go to your room, I’ll handle this.” 

You could tell Rafe wanted to disagree with Ward’s directions, but with a final glare your way, he removed himself from the room. Ward watched as your expression drooped, eyes blinking slower as the medicine kicked in. 

“I told you, you’ll never see them again.”

Heavy tears blinked from your eyes as you tried to fight through, tried to stay awake to warn the woman downstairs of your horrendous conditions, of how damaged they’d left you. But you couldn’t, despite all your efforts, you couldn’t. 

And as your vision faded to black, all you could think of was your brother and how you wanted to be with him again, more than anything in the world. 

--

And now, John B was going to be sick to his stomach so he stood up to pace while fighting the bile in his throat. Rafe Cameron. Rafe Cameron took away something you’d never even had a chance to consider.

“Did he…” The open ended question made John B dizzy at the thought of everything that you’d gone through, and when you shook your head no, he choked out a cough instead of the lunch he was threatening to leave in the bush.

You watched him from your spot on the stairs, heart racing as you recounted everything you’d told Kie earlier that day. “There was so much, um, scar tissue from the kicking…and the drugs. A-and they said it caused permanent damage that even if I wanted to get pregnant, I wouldn’t make it long.”

“When did you find out? The hospital? Or-or-” John B stopped pacing, his hand tugging at his hair to keep him from absolutely raging in the cemetery.

“It was when you got arrested,” You continued to explain around your tears before he lost his chill. “There was so much bleeding and… I didn’t know what to do…so I told Pope, and his dad took me to the hospital and-”

“Pope knows?” John B had never sounded so upset at the idea of one of his best friends finding out this information before he did. You were his sister, his other half no matter what happened. He wanted you to trust him, to lean on him for everything and anything you wanted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged lightly, your voice cracking as you spoke, “Because I’m embarrassed? And ashamed and JJ’s going to leave when he finds out and-”

John B picked you up from the stairs and held you so tightly, he could’ve sworn you disappeared. His chest shook with your sobs as you sunk into the embrace. You weren’t even 19 yet and the possibility of growing a family with your boyfriend, John B’s best friend, was practically non-existent. 

Adoption was always an option, but John B knew what you were grieving, because he had almost grieved it when he lost Sarah on that table in Nassau. Plus, let’s not lie, the chances of you all getting your shit together and getting approved for that kind of thing were slipping away by the day. There was still so much time in your lives (you hoped), that you shouldn’t be hearing this news at such a young age, but like you said, life had been so cruel. 

John B stood there, with you in his arms, for as long as you’d let him. You cried for most of it, but a part of you was relieved he knew. You had tried to keep the conversation away as long as possible, like if you didn’t speak of it, you’d never have to accept that it was real. But it was, and you had to come to the realization that John B wouldn’t be an uncle to kids that you’d created on your own, that JJ wouldn’t ever get to redeem himself as a Dad to kids of his own, that you’d never get that experience.

 “I’m so sorry, I… I should’ve been there, I should’ve never left without you,” John B apologized and placed his hand on the back of your head to hold you closer. “God, I shouldn’t have-I didn’t mean for this to happen. I never meant for any of this to happen.” 

 “‘S not your fault,” You mumbled, every word being so honest. It had taken a lot of thought, but you couldn’t and you wouldn’t blame John B for what he’d done. He was a terrified kid, and you were too in your own ways. He was running for his life and you were watching from the sidelines. Older and younger. Brother and sister. Trapped in this horrible spiral life had given you.

“What are we looking for?”

An unsuspecting voice had you and John B diving for a hiding spot, your brother tugging you behind a gravestone that would keep both of you from prying eyes. John B held a finger to his lips, teary eyes making contact with yours as you were wrenched out of your heartbreaking conversation and back into reality. 

Keeping his hand on your shoulder to hold you out of view, John B peeked around the gravestone to see two figures wandering the cemetery with a lantern, obviously looking for something other than a deceased loved one. 

“We’re looking for an angel. A gatekeeper. One that looks a bit like her. Hello, Stede Bonnet,” A woman answered the question. “Isn’t that a beauty? Excellent, come on.”

You shivered, whether from the cool stone against your back or fear, you didn’t know and risked glancing over to see the two figures investigating another grave a few feet away from you. They were pulling out heavy tools in an attempt to open whatever was lying inside. 

“Shit,” John B whispered as you watched the woman place the amulet you’d found in the shipwreck into the stone, the headstone scraping open as she did. You quickly recognized the man as the one who had caught you and JJ while diving and again in the hospital, so that left this woman to be his boss.

After a moment of silence and more scraping noises, they disappeared under the stone, down into the tomb that lay beneath. Thunder cracked overhead and you jumped, grabbing onto John B’s arm in surprise. 

He moved away slowly and your grip tightened to stop him. “John B!”

“Shh, just stay behind me. We’re so not done with that conversation, by the way.”

You shuffled out slowly in fear of someone getting the jump on the two of you. John B paused in front of the headstone that the two people from earlier read; the angel statue had an outstretched hand, which you followed to the tomb they disappeared in.

“The gatekeeper will guide the way,” John B repeated as he followed your gaze. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit,” You gasped out in shock, realizing they very much had figured out the words on the amulet faster than you’d planned. “Do you think…”

“They’ll be fine,” John B reassured, although you couldn’t tell if he was speaking more to himself or you. “They’re smart. Right?”

You tilted your head in consideration. “Better than us being down there.”

“Yeah, yeah. Way better than us.”

“Pope’s super smart.”

“Right and Cleo’s got her knife.”

“Sarah’s not dumb, she’ll be fine.”

“Kie can have her moments, but-”

Your reasoning was cut off as the headstone shifted and the two individuals from earlier climbed out. John B pushed you behind him further into the shadows of the building as you watched on with curious gazes. Lightning lit up the sky before thunder boomed around you, the storm clearly moving in closer despite your wishes. 

You needed to find your friends. And fast.

--

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ask me anything

[bkd-b3ans]

You try to repair a watch, Boothill is being annoying as usual, you end up discovering his neurolink perfectly mimics human emotions.

-> Ship: Boothill X Mechanic!Reader (or just tech savvy idk the term really)

-> Rating: Safe for All

-> TL;DR: Boothill visits you after closing hours, nearly ruins a 5 million watch repair commission, stares for a bit too long while you work and overheats for a bit, ends up learning you live above your own workshop and you learn he gets flustered easy.

-> Extra notes: No idea where I will go with these, I just love writing stuff. Next one is going to be more about touching / feeling, but until then, you too can experience casual chatter. I do not proof read, whatever is written is in accordance to Ellios script, go meow at him. Take this "2nd" part as pure world-building.

-> Word count: 2k~ ish

-> First part: here

Thank you for reading and bearing with my awful English. If you have any prompts I would be more than happy to hear them.

"Pardner? Yoohooo~" Boothill was waving his arm like a manic from the front of the counter, trying to catch your attention, but you were too engrossed in your work, tinkering away with some expensive watch you were paid to fix, the tiny gears and springs neatly organized in your table in tiny boxes with labels, while you were hunched over the table, looking through a magnifying glass and listening to music, tongue almost sticking out like some cartoon character while you were trying to place the gear in its place carefully using some precise tweezers.

For all you cared, your shop was closed for the day, so why would anyone in their right mind, or that knows how to read a sign, would even bother you? Of course you didn't take into account a Galaxy Ranger that had a passion for annoying you at random times.

"Psst, hey, over 'ere..." he sighed, "Fudge this". Impatient as ever, Boothill just helped himself with one of the expensive motor oil cans in the counter and stepped around it, taking off his hat and placing it on your head.

The whole motion made you jump out of your skin, dropping the tweezers together with the very important, one of a kind gear, that you could barely notice while it was on your table, let alone on your floor, rolling off into the void like all of the pens you've lost throughout the years.

"WHAT THE FUCK, MY FUCKING WORK OF MY AEONS-" you took off the hat annoyed, hand still shaking from the scare and heart running laps in your chest. Shoving the hat into Boothills chest, you couldn't help but be angry at the man, sighing.

"Damn sugar-cube, didn't know ye were this jumpy. Ye should be more aware of yer surroundings you know?"

"What the hell does that mean. MY SHOP IS CLOSED BOOTHILL, CAN'T YOU READ??"

"Well, not your language no, it's all a bunch of jumbles and lines"

You looked confused for a moment before realizing that neither of you were from the same planet. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, trying to get rid of your furrow.

"Just, shut up and help me look for that gear. AND PUT THE DAMN CAN DOWN"

He raised his arms in defeat, putting down the can of motor oil and looking around your workbench while you were painfully looking for the gear with your magnifying glasses.

"Lotta' shiny pieces you have on the table. Are these really more important than your good old buddy, Boothill?"

"Unless you're willing to give me 5 million, then yes"

Boothill choked

"5 million?? For some beautiful watch?"

"What can I say, some people have more than they know what to do with. Now stop yapping and get on your knees, I can't see shit."

"Is that an invitation, darling?"

"... BOOTHILL!"

"Aye aye, don't get your feathers ruffled like this darling, just sit there and be pretty"

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

You couldn't help but be annoyed still, slumped in your chair, fiddling with your pen, while Boothill was looking around. How long has it been already, maybe a few minutes? Hours? Days??? Your work couldn't wait that much, and each ticking second felt agonizing. You were so close too, getting interrupted was the last thing you needed right now. You always had plans, a schedule, deadlines, you couldn't afford the unpredictability that is Boothill sometimes.

You almost got too lost in your thoughts before you heard a sudden thud, metal against wood, and a proud exclamation.

"Here it is sugar-cube, your pretty little thing... Cogwheel whatever. Now can you stop looking like someone spat in your food or do I need to repair this watch myself to make you happy?"

You could swear sometimes he was like a dog, a big doberman. For as scary as he could look sometimes, you couldn't help but be unable to push him away. All you could do was just let out an amused scoff, taking the gear piece in the palm of your hand, and gently placing it in it's box.

"No, no, you've done enough damage already. Why are you here even?"

"Just wanted to pay my best buddy a visit? What, a man can't do that no more?"

"No fixing your body? No maintenance work? Really nothing? Just a visit? Odd, thought you were a busy man"

"Oh I sure am sugar-cube, but sometimes even I need to sit down and relax."

"... In my workshop"

"In yer workshop, yes."

You sighed

"Fine, fine, stay for as long as you need, but don't touch anything that is in this-" you motion around your workbench "general area"

He tipped his hat in acknowledgment

"Aye aye, I'll stay put, fudge me, you can be very serious sometimes."

"5 million"

"Right yes, that's understandable."

You went back to work, trying to finish placing the last pieces inside that damned watch, headphones back on your ears. Boothill was simply slumped on the couch you kept around the waiting area, that barely saw any use to begin with. He was just looking around, bored out of his mind, the silence really starting to get to him. On occasion he's throw you glances, looking like a kicked puppy only to be met by your back either way. Yet he couldn't help but notice the few tics you had, tapping your foot, humming to yourself from time to time, arranging your hair by shaking your head around, and just how damn beautiful you looked in that dim warm light.

By no means we're you prettied up and groomed, after all, working with machinery all day will just lead to one always being covered by oil or sutt, clothes messy, the tools around your belt loud and heavy, but to him, it was part of the charm. The passion you had for what you did, the care you treated everything with, even his own body when it needed repairs. Sure, you two may butt heads more often than goats, but you were the reason he kept making his trips back to your workshop for any needs. He trusted you, felt comfort in your presence.

He could feel his insides start to heat up, his mind trailing off. Sure, he couldn't blush for the love of him, after all blood stopped flowing through his body long, long ago, but his body still reacted from time to time to strong emotions, and now it was no different. It felt, uncomfortable almost, a strange emptiness in his metal gut. Maybe it was the bullets he snacked in like some chips, or maybe it was more than that. He just simply pulled his hat over his eyes to focus and calm down.

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

Finally, after so many hours, you were finally done, the watch ticking gleefully, almost as if happy with it's new look. You sighed in relief, finally placing down your headphones and slumping in your chair, pulling your glasses up.

"Finally... I swear they are trying to drive me insane with all these new 'trinkets' that have way too many small pieces for their own good. How you holding up, Boots?"

"Fine as ever sugar, bored out of my mind, but rested"

"Yeah, I can see that, you've already made a dent in my couch"

"Hey, I helped ya find that gear for free, can't I get some more respect"

"And who's fault was it that I dropped it?" You said, raising your eyebrow.

"Aye aye, sorry 'bout that."

There was a moment of pause

"Say, partner, you've messed around inside my body for a while now. Do you know if there's any functions that might mimic proper human emotions?"

"Human emotions? Hmmm"

You thought for a moment, trying to remember if you've seen any kind of code that might do that.

"I don't think I've seen anything like that, but I've also never like, actually paid attention. There may be some functions that mimic that, after all, you might need them to think and work properly. Why?"

"Ah, nothing important, was just wondering."

"I can always check if you want. Of course, for a price"

He couldn't help but scoff, amused "You were never free eh?"

"Someone has to eat"

"Sure, sure. I mean why not, might as well get this mystery solved, since I'm here and have nothing better to do."

"Then come with me"

You both went inside your garage, Boothill already used to all the steps, laying down on the weird table chair as he put it while you connected the cables to the back of his neck, opening the hologram screens.

"Let's see..." you rubbed your chin, pacing around while moving around screens, trying to find anything remotely similar to what Boothill mentioned, but it was rather hard. Every line kept changing dictating different functions every moment.

"Hmm...."

"Anything the matter?"

"No, I just realized why I might have never seen that kind of function. Your neurolink is adapting to everything you do, so it's changing constantly. I think the only way to spot anything us to trigger whatever made you so curious about your 'emotions'"

"Trigger em? And how the fork do you plan on doing that?"

You thought for a moment, moving next to Boothill, dragging the screens along with you. You didn't really give a warning as you poked his chest with a screwdriver, noticing some changes.

"What in the beautiful sky are you doing?"

"There it is" you just pointed at the screen at the suddenly changing lines.

"Your body reacts to your mental state. Right now you are confused"

"I sure as warm lake I am, you're poking me around with a screwdriver."

"What else would have you wanted me to do? Touch you with my own hands?"

He was about to say something, but you grabbed one of the screens, squinting at it.

"Getting flustered, Boots?" You could almost feel your own smug smile forming on your face.

"Flustered? Please, you'd think I'd get 'flustered' from just a check-up?"

"Bashful... Interesting"

"Hey! Stop saying things and answer me, sweetheart"

"And annoyed. Yeah, you do seem to have those functions, and they're damn advanced to mimic human emotions. Guess you aren't just metal after all. You still have the ability to feel. It's interesting how this changes..."

You got too focused on the lines of code, not paying attention to how you started leaning against the table, your hand extremely close to Boothills, fingers almost touching. Sure, you were just staring at the lines changing, but Boothill was staring at your hand, annoyed almost that he couldn't just grab it, only to be confused over why he was annoyed. You just chuckled to yourself and pushed the screen away, unplugging the cables.

"Well, mystery solved, your neurolink functions exactly like a brain and it sends the proper signals, so your body will be affected by your emotions."

"Great-" he rolled his eyes, standing up and scratching the back of his head "You need a new table, this one is forking uncomfortable."

"I don't take feedback"

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say darling." he just hopped off the table, adjusting his hat.

"H-"

"1k credits"

"Damn, let me finish at least. Fine, you know the drill"

"Nah, I'll let it slide this time. Getting to check your internals can be fun sometimes" you patted his back

"I'll go home, unless you want to guard my shop, you should leave too."

"You don't just live in your workshop??"

"...what...?"

"You know, like, I've always only seen you here, where is your home even."

"Oh... Oh! I guess you can say that? My home is upstairs, I bought the whole building when I opened so everything on the ground floor is the shop, upstairs is my place."

"Ok that makes sense... Can I-"

"No"

"Fine fine, I'll go my merry way then. I'll see you next time partner, and thank you for the free check-up"

"Don't get too used to them"

He nodded, tipping his hat and leaving.

[justagalwhowrites]

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Ch. 1: Wrong Foot

Joel takes on a new contract as a bodyguard. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Non-consensual groping (not by Joel.) Mention of grief and child loss. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 7.1k

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Prologue | Next Chapter

Two years later - September 2024

“You really want me for this one?” he asked as he rode up the elevator at the nicest hotel in Austin. Even after two years protecting wealthy assholes, Joel wasn’t used to shit like this. The fast elevators and the plush carpets and the trappings of wealth that provided everything his charges needed. Everything, it seemed, except safety. 

For that, they needed him. 

Protecting people, as it happened, was something Joel was good at. It almost surprised him how good he was at it. It forced him to be aware of what was happening around him for a change instead of just moving through the world like a ghost. It took that awareness for him to even realize just how dead he’d been in the years since the death of his daughter.

Usually, things went fine. Most often, he was shepherding tech or oil executives with inflated egos from business meeting to business meeting while they were in town and looking the other way when they cheated on their wives or put half his salary up their noses. Nothing ever happened with those assholes. 

Occasionally, though, his job got interesting. Rabid fans tried to mob some pop star Joel had never heard of at a club on 6th Street once and he had to carry her out, forcing his way through the crowd before she got crushed. Then there was the supermodel who was posing for photos with fans when one little college-aged fucker thought it would be smart to grab her ass to cop a feel. Joel took a little too much pleasure in punching him so hard that he fell to the floor, knocked clean out. The football player had been the biggest trouble, though. Some hotshot asshole who’d just won the Super Bowl coming back to his college town to party. He picked a fight with the wrong drug dealer and damn near got shot for it, Joel whisking him away and getting winged in the shoulder by the bullet for his trouble. 

He didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he liked when the work got dicey. Being shot at was the closest to alive Joel has felt in years. Getting to lay out some asshole without the cops trying to arrest him for it had been the highlight of his month. It made him very good at his job and he liked that, both things that surprised him. 

“You’re my best guy,” Tommy said. “You’ve seen more action on this job than almost any of the other guards and they want someone with a good history. Plus you don’t give a shit about… higher profile clientele. I can’t put fuckin’ James on a job with someone he knows, he’ll fan boy over ‘em. Remember when that one band came through?” 

“Jesus,” Joel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been an easy job but it was one that he’d had to do most of the work on, James practically giddy the entire time. “Yeah, you’re right. So, what, this some pop star or somethin’?” 

“Not sure,” Tommy said. “They’ve been playin’ it real close to the chest, won’t ID ‘em until we sign an NDA.” 

“So you got no idea what we’re workin’ with,” Joel said, grinding his teeth. 

“Just that it’s someone people know,” Tommy said. “Long term contract, real good money. They mentioned a stalker, they’re bringing all the information along on that to review, wanted you to see it before we signed on.” 

Joel nodded slowly. 

“Well,” he said. “Least it’ll be interesting.” 

They made it to the top floor of the hotel, only four doors and Joel fought the urge to laugh. God, this breed of rich asshole was a whole new level. 

Tommy led the way to a door labeled Presidential Suite and knocked, a young woman with close cropped dark hair and a headphone in her ear answered the door. 

“One second,” she said, tapping her headphone before she smiled at the two men. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Miller. My boss prefers to have people come to where she is when she travels, I’m sure you can understand…” 

“Of course,” Tommy said. “Happy to go wherever you need.” 

“Can I get you anything?” She asked, leading the way into a hotel suite that had to be damn near the size of Joel’s entire house. “Coffee? Water? Tea? Also have a variety of Coke I think you call it here if you’d like that.” 

“Water’s fine,” Tommy said. 

“Still, sparkling?” She asked. “Also have cucumber, lemon, mint…” 

“Uh,” Tommy blinked for a moment and Joel fought the urge to laugh. “Still’s fine. None of that other stuff.” 

She nodded before she looked to Joel, her brows raised. 

“Coffee,” he said. “Black.” 

“Of course,” she smiled, leading them to a sitting room and gesturing to a couch. “Quinn will be with you shortly.” 

She disappeared and returned with their drinks, handing them to each of them with a smile before she tapped the headphone again. 

“Thank you,” she said, her voice almost syrupy sweet as she went to another room. “I appreciate you waiting since you’re apparently so willing to try to fuck us over…” 

Tommy’s eyes went wide and he looked at Joel, the conversation becoming almost silent as she closed the door behind her. 

“Definitely ain’t from around here,” Joel said. 

“Guess not,” Tommy said. 

It wasn’t long - Joel only drank half the coffee which was far better than he was expecting it to be - when another door opened, a woman closer to his own age coming out, dressed in an expertly fitted gray suit, her dark hair in long, tiny braids that hung to her waist. Sarah had always liked hair like that, always begged Joel to let her get them. He wished he had whiskey for his coffee. 

The woman was on the phone, too, but she was on speaker. 

“I don’t care,” she said. “You know the deal and I’m not going to just sit here and pretend that you don’t because you decided today was the day to play fucking games. Call me when you want to handle shit like a fucking grown up.” 

She hung up and sat heavily on the couch opposite them, the girl who answered the door almost scurrying into the room and hovering near the large coffee table. The woman in the suit - Quinn, Joel assumed - giving her a single nod and she rushed off, quickly returning with a bottle of water and several folios. 

“Tommy,” Quinn smiled. “While it’s good to see you again, I’m sure you’ll understand when I say I’m looking forward to getting this settled so we can stop meeting like this.” 

Tommy smiled back. 

“Can’t say I disagree,” he said. “Wanted you to have the chance to meet Joel, he’ll be the lead on this contract assuming we go ahead. He’s one of my best guys, got the history you asked for…” 

“I’m sure being your brother doesn’t hurt,” she smiled a little. Joel raised his eyebrows and looked to Tommy but she answered his unspoken question. “We pulled backgrounds for everyone on your payroll. We can’t be too careful.” 

She tossed one of the leather folios on the table. 

“This is what we’re up against,” she said. “Redacted, of course, so you can’t ascertain who my client is but you’ll have access to the full versions should you accept the contract and sign the necessary NDAs. We’ve naturally brought them to the police and they believe the threat is credible. They have a lot of information - some of these were sent to my client’s private residence, for example - and it’s clear they’ve seen my client in person numerous times. We have reason to believe they will follow my client wherever she goes and there is genuine concern for escalation…” 

Tommy picked up the file and looked it over, nodding slowly, before passing a page off to Joel. It was the photo copy of a printed letter. 

You were beautiful today in that green dress. 

One day, you’ll come home to me. One day, I’ll make you see. 

Joel passed the page back to Tommy. 

“I can see why you’re concerned,” Tommy said, handing the folio back. “Don’t seem like anything we can’t handle. I think we’re alright to move forward with the contract as discussed…” 

There was a knock at the door and the girl ran to go answer it, Quinn ignoring it completely. 

“Excellent,” she said, grabbing another folio and passing it over. “This is the contract and the NDA, already reviewed by your legal team. We just require a wet signature.” 

Tommy nodded, looking over the pages, anyway, and Joel was starting to wonder why he’d had to be trotted out like some kind of prize show pony just to sign some damn paperwork when there was a commotion at the door. 

“This really isn’t necessary,” the girl was saying, her voice oddly pleading, the total opposite of how she’d been on the phone. 

“Oh I’m sure Quinn won’t mind,” another voice - a new one but there was a tug of familiarity to it that set Joel’s teeth on edge - said. “I am her favorite client, after all.” 

Quinn’s head snapped in the direction of the sound and, in a sweep of gauzy clothes and floral perfume, you were there. 

Joel recognized you immediately, everything about you seeming to have been built to be remembered. The whole world remembered you, it had been years since he’d been able to escape you. The biggest movie star on the planet, helming major franchises and winning fucking Oscars, on the cover of gossip rags at the fucking grocery store and on billboards advertising perfume and on Saturday Night Live. In person, from the second you appeared, you were a force. Your face, your voice, the way you held yourself, no wonder he always noticed you when you were all around him. No wonder his daughter had been obsessed with you. 

Your face was a poster on her wall, a picture where you had the slightest, confident smile on your lips but your eyes always seemed sad. You turned those eyes to him, ranging over him like you were taking stock and Joel’s heart stuttered before your gaze turned to Tommy and back to Quinn. 

“So glad you got the meeting started without me,” you said, all saccharine sweetness, stepping over Joel’s legs and sitting down on the edge of the couch between him and Tommy. You crossed one elegant leg over the other - your pants ever so slightly sheer so Joel could just make out your thigh below the loose fabric - and leaned forward, taking Joel’s white china coffee cup off the table and helping yourself to a sip with a jingle of your bangles that were piled high on your wrists. You gave him a wink as you did, setting the cup back on its saucer before leaning onto your leg, your arms folded in front of you. “I’m sure the fact that I didn’t know it was happening has nothing to do with wanting to cut me out of the decision making for something that’s going to be apparently integral to my life over the next year.” 

“I just don’t want to bog you down with petty things like this,” Quinn waved you off. “You have enough on your plate, that’s what you pay me for…” 

“Oh I’m sure that’s all it is…” 

Quinn leaned forward, too, meeting your steely gaze from across the table. The knowing smile that had been on her lips just a second earlier was gone. In its place was a no nonsense expression that Joel imagined carried her far when dealing with Hollywood assholes. She, it seemed, was done coddling you. 

“The studios know,” she cut you off. “Someone at the police station leaked it. And they won’t insure you without higher levels of security, especially if you want to spend this much time outside LA. You want to keep working? You need security. At least until we get to the bottom of whoever is sending you letters.” 

“Have you tried telling them how well the tickets will sell when I die?” You asked, brows raised. “I’m sure they’ll be champing at the bit then, especially now that they can just replace me with CGI for whatever isn’t in the can…” 

“That’s not funny,” Quinn said sharply. 

“Oh, come on. It was a little funny.” 

She glared at you. 

“Do you really want someone like that getting close to her?” She asked, her voice almost unsettlingly earnest and gentle. You almost deflated then, giving in. “It’s not safe, babe. I’m trying to keep you safe. It just so happens that it’s also in the studio’s best interest so you don’t have to foot the entire bill.” 

“You must not have told them about the boost in ticket sales, then,” you said wryly. She rolled her eyes. “But fine. If you really think there’s a risk to her? I’ll do it.” 

Joel wondered who this “her” was. Knowing movie stars, probably some tiny fucking dog you carried in your goddamn purse. 

You looked to Joel for a moment, your gaze oddly cutting, like you were seeing through every part of him before turning your attention to Tommy. 

“When does your contract begin then?” 

Tommy glanced at Joel, almost asking if he was actually OK with this. Clearly, this wasn’t what Tommy had expected either. Joel gave a minute shrug. 

“Tomorrow,” Tommy said, looking back to you. “Joel here will be your point man but you’ll also be working with a few other guys from my company. He’ll get you oriented tomorrow and we can work out a way to ensure your protection that’s minimally disruptive to your daily life.” 

You scoffed. 

“Something tells me having a wall of muscle follow me everywhere is going to disruptive,” you said. “But the studio says jump, we say how high, right?” 

“Hey, I don’t make the rules,” Quinn said.

“We all know who does,” you muttered darkly, getting to your feet. “Well, since all this was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not, I think I’m done wasting my time here.” 

You turned to Joel and he found himself in the unnatural position of looking up to someone, his jaw tight as you levied those exacting eyes on him again. 

“See you in the morning,” you said, reaching down and helping yourself to another sip of his coffee with a wink before stepping over his legs and heading out the door in a whirl of soft perfume and flowing fabric. He looked back to the coffee cup. Your lipstick was on the rim.

Joel tried not to think about how you looked at him as Tommy finished up with the formalities, the conversation between his brother and Quinn a drone he couldn’t really make out over the noise in his head as his leg bounced impatiently.

When Tommy had looked at him just now, the silent request for permission, he should have bowed out. He should have said he didn’t want to put his life on the line for some spoiled fucking brat and gone home. But he hadn’t and he couldn’t back out of this now. It didn’t matter how much you made him think of his daughter. It didn’t matter how your eyes seemed to cut him to the quick. He owed Tommy. When he’d started in this business, he’d told his brother that he could do this work and sometimes that meant doing shit he wasn’t comfortable with. He would just have to live with that. 

Eventually, Joel gave up on sitting still. 

“Be downstairs,” he said gruffly to Tommy when the conversation with Quinn lulled for a moment. He didn’t wait for a response before going for the elevator, relieved that it as empty on the way down to the lobby as it had been on the way up. 

But the ground floor of the hotel was not the quiet place it had been when Joel had arrived. Instead, there was a press of people just outside the doors, phones up and loud enough that he could hear them through the glass. He frowned for a moment before he realized what it was, the metal of your bangles catching the light as your arm rose above the crowd, a phone clutched in your hand as you took a selfie. 

“Jesus,” Joel muttered, stalking over toward the door. 

At least, he thought, he wasn’t on duty until tomorrow. If you really wanted to handle shit that bad on your own? Fine by him. 

The doorman held the door for him and Joel gave him a stiff nod as he tried to force his way from the building, but the press of people was becoming suffocating, every inch of sidewalk crammed tight. 

“Can I get a selfie?” 

“My girlfriend loves you, can you say hi to her on video?” 

“Can I have an autograph?” 

“Look, I’m happy to give you all whatever you want,” you said, voice friendly but still curt. “But I need a little room to breathe, OK? I’m not in a rush, we’ve got time, it’s…” 

Someone from the outside edge of the crowd shoved forward, sending the press of people toward you, Joel tall enough that he could see how they tripped and jostled, sending you stumbling into the person at your back. You had to fight for the space to stand up again, the man you’d fallen into’s hand running up your side to your chest, cupping the underside of your breast as you tried to find a way to separate from him. If it wasn’t for the look on his face, Joel might have given him the benefit of the doubt. But his lecherous smile gave him away, and the thinly veiled look of disgust on your face told him you knew exactly what this man was trying. 

Something that hadn’t existed much since Joel lost everything took over. It was rage, blind and violent and coursing through him sharp and heady. That rage didn’t give him a chance to really think, but then, it never had. Not when he was a kid and his dad was on some bender, not when he was some hotheaded teenager looking to pick a fight with a bully at school, not when he was at a bar and saw someone who could have killed his daughter. It was no different now as he practically dove into the crowd, forcing the group apart and not caring if people got pushed into the street or shoved to the ground.

“Move!” Joel yelled, not that it seemed to do much beyond warn people that he was coming for them. He reached you in a matter of seconds, towering over the man who’d decided to take advantage of your vulnerable position to grope you. The man - more of a kid, likely some student at UT who didn’t know his ass from hole in the ground - gaped up at him, his eyes wide and his hand still on your breast. 

Joel took your arm and pulled you, roughly, away from his grip, tucking you behind him before refocusing on the kid in front of him. 

“You think that shit’s funny?” Joel asked, his hand curling into a fist. “Touchin’ a woman without permission?” 

“I was just…” he looked afraid and something inside Joel flared with pride at that. Look at what he could do, he thought, it looked like he was capable of something after all. 

“Know what you were just,” Joel cut him off, mockingly, before grabbing him by his shirt and slamming him back into a marble pillar. The kids head smacked against it with sickening crack. “Do that shit again and I’ll bust your jaw.” 

Joel released him and the kid slumped to the ground before he turned to find you, looking down at the kid with your mouth slightly open. 

“C’mon,” Joel said, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him, ducking your head down low to ruin the picture for anyone who might be trying to take one. “Let’s go.” 

He looked around, the crowd thinner now but all watching him. 

“Move!” He roared again. This time, they listened, parting like the Red Sea as he ushered you quickly away, back into the hotel. He looked to the door man, trying not to glare at him too hard. “Those assholes don’t come inside, we clear?” 

“Yes sir,” the man said quickly.

Joel looked to you next. 

“Where’s your car?” 

“Valet,” you said, your forehead in your hand. “I didn’t get a chance to even grab it yet, someone must have tipped off some fucking gossip blog that I was here…” 

“Got the ticket?” Joel asked. You sighed and fished it out of your pocket and handed it over before Joel took it to the front desk and told them to have your car brought out back. He also got directions to the loading dock before going back to find you, in the same spot on the plush lobby couch, fingers laced together, elbows braced on your knees. 

“C’mon,” Joel said, making you jump before looking up at him. “They’re bringing your car around back, we’ll get you out of here without those fuckers knowin’.” 

You looked back down at the ground before giving a stiff nod. 

“Thanks.” You got up and took a deep breath, raising your chin, an almost serene look on your face before looking to him. “Lead the way.” 

He did as you asked, watching like a hawk for anyone who might be stupid enough to try to talk to you. But no one seemed to pay you any mind, even as the two of you cut through the dining room - closed between lunch and dinner service - and into the kitchen, where dozens of cooks were working to get set for the evening. They just ducked around the pair of you, sometimes giving Joel a dirty look for getting in their way, and then you were at the loading dock. 

“Here,” Joel said, jumping down from the edge of it to the alley still damp from rain from the night before. He held his hands out to you. “I’ll help you down.” 

“Thanks, but I’d rather do it myself,” you said. You were more cautious about it than Joel but you jumped down and landed lightly beside him, brushing your hands free of the dirt from the dock before crossing your arms tightly over your chest. Your jaw was tight, the only sign on your calm, uncommonly beautiful face that something might be wrong. Joel crossed his arms, too. 

“You OK?” He asked after a moment. 

You looked at him for a second, your brows raised ever so slightly. 

“Fine,” you said after a moment before staring straight ahead again. 

“You sure?” He asked. He wasn’t sure why he was pressing. He shouldn’t care. He didn’t care.

“Yes,” you said and then you laughed once, sharply. “I mean, no, I’m not but what the fuck am I going to do about it? It’s part of the job, isn’t it?” 

Joel ground his teeth. 

“Shouldn’t be.” 

“Regardless,” you shrugged, glancing at him again. “Thank you for your help. You didn’t have to do that and… Well, I appreciate it.” 

“Sure,” he said as your car came around the corner. You dropped your arms before turning to face him. 

“Looks like it’s you and me starting tomorrow,” you said. “I’m sure your boss will give you all the details but I don’t think I caught your name.” 

“Joel,” he said after a moment. “Miller.”

You smiled, a small, almost hesitant one, the slightest upturn of your lips. 

“Joel Miller,” you repeated back to him. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m…” 

“Don’t need to tell me your name,” he said. “Pretty sure everyone on Earth knows your name.” 

You laughed again in that same, humorless way as your car stopped beside you. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I suppose they do. See you tomorrow, Joel.” 

“See you tomorrow, ma’am.” 

He watched you pull cash out of your pocket and smile more broadly at valet who was damn near gawking at you. You discreetly handed him the money as you shook his hand and Joel stayed there in the alley until he couldn’t see your car any more. 

“Holy shit,” the valet said and Joel looked down at him. He had to be about 18 years old, still wet behind the ears. Probably had fucking posters of you up in his room that he jerked off to before he went to bed. He held up the cash. “She gave me 100 bucks!” 

Joel looked down at him, making sure to draw himself to his full height. 

“You gonna tell anyone we got her out this way?” He asked. The kid swallowed hard and shook his head. “Good.” 

Joel tried not to grind his teeth as he went back inside to find his brother. He wished it wasn’t too late to back out of this. You, he thought, were going to be far more than he’d bargained for. He just hoped he was ready for it.

***

“I’m not wearing this.” 

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“Seriously dude?” You asked, incredulous. “Can’t you wait like… two days before picking a fight?” 

“Have you seen this fucking thing?” Ellie’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs as she held up the hem of the blue plaid skirt that, you had to admit, looked sickeningly unnatural on your 14-year-old niece. “You could put a whole circus up this thing! And how am I supposed to kick someone’s ass in a fucking skirt?” 

“First of all, language,” you said. She rolled her eyes. You ignored her. “Second of all, you shouldn’t be kicking anybody’s ass. Why are you starting your day thinking about ass kicking? You haven’t even met these kids yet, I highly doubt you’ll need to kick someone’s ass your first day.” 

“I’d like to be able to kick someone’s ass if I need to,” she said, incredulous. “Come on. You know this is insane.” 

You sighed as the doorbell rang and you checked your watch. 7 a.m. on the nose. Well, at least the man was prompt. 

“Fine,” you sighed. “Run upstairs, put on something else…” 

Ellie took off as Esmo, your household assistant, appeared next to you, Joel by her side. 

“Morning,” he said, voice gruff. You looked him over quickly, a side arm at his belt on a pair of jeans that fit him entirely too well. You doubted they were tailored, either, they just fit him like that, the bastard. Just your luck that you’d get stuck with a bodyguard who was unnaturally good looking but also an asshole. “Thought we could get started with…”

“Sorry, that won’t work, things are a bit off the rails this morning,” you said to him quickly, not giving him a chance to respond before turning to Esmo.

“Do you still have the name of the uniform store?” You asked her. “If you do, can you see if they’re open? I think we’re going to need to stop for pants…” 

“Yes ma’am,” she said, quickly pulling out her phone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think to get pants, the requirements were very clear…” 

“It’s not your fault,” you said quickly. Esmo had only been working for you for a few weeks and it felt like the two of you were still getting used to each other. She insisted on calling you ma’am. You insisted on doing too much for yourself. It was a delicate balance. “She’s just…” 

“OK,” Ellie came thundering down the stairs in the same sweater with a button down shirt and tie but jeans instead of the skirt. “Ready!” 

“Store opened at seven,” Esmo said, pocketing her phone. “I can take her and…” 

“I want to do it,” you cut her off, catching a glimpse of Joel’s shocked expression out of the corner of your eye as you looked back to your niece. “Alright trouble maker, ready to go?” 

“Fuck yeah.” 

“Girl,” you said. “Language, please!” 

She made a face but made her way to the front door, anyway, her thumbs looped through the straps of her book bag and you turned to Joel, still surprised at just how large he was, even after being against him the day before. 

“Assuming you’re along for the ride on this,” you said, jerking your head for the door. “But we gotta book it, with an extra stop we’re already not going to be early for her first day.” 

He still had a look of almost shock on his face but he followed behind you as you grabbed your keys and wristlet from the bowl by the door, Ellie bouncing impatiently from foot to foot. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were excited,” you teased as you made you way to the Porsche SUV you’d gotten specifically to haul Ellie around. “Almost like you want to go to school instead of hanging out with me all day.” 

“Spending time with old people does get… well, old,” she smirked, heading for the passenger seat but you stopped her. 

“Absolutely not, you’re in back,” you said, jerking a thumb toward Joel - who still hadn’t spoken. “This man has a good foot on you, we’re not making him sit back there.” 

“Ugh, fine,” she huffed but obeyed, throwing her book bag against the opposite door before clambering in as Joel went for the driver’s seat, holding out his hand for the keys. You gave him a look but he just raised his brow, his arm still extended expectantly. 

“Please,” you scoffed. “I’ll let you follow me around like some guard dog but I’m keeping some last vestige of my autonomy. I’m driving.” 

He narrowed his eyes. 

“No.” 

“And why not?” You asked. “Because you have control issues?”

“Do you know evasive driving tactics?” He asked. “How to watch for pursuers and safely out run them?” 

“No, but I did my own stunt driving for the Fast Track franchise,” you said wryly. “Think I’ll be fine. Now move, you’re making us late.” 

He ground his teeth. 

“We’re talkin’ about this,” he muttered before stalking off to the passenger side of the car. 

“Yeah I bet we are,” you said under your breath as you got in the car and programmed the GPS for the uniform store. 

“So,” Ellie said in a teasing tone as she leaned between the front seats as you started off. “Who are you?”

“Put on your seatbelt,” he said. 

She rolled her eyes but sat back and obeyed.

“This is Joel,” you answered for him. “He’s going to be around quite a bit.” 

“Is he like another assistant or some shit?” She asked. 

“Language,” you said and you caught a glimpse of her rolling her eyes in your rearview mirror. “And no, not an assistant.” 

“Ohhhh,” she smirked. “So he’s like a boyfriend then, got it…” 

Joel rolled his eyes. 

“I’m a bodyguard,” he said. “I’ll be protecting your…” 

“Bodyguard?” Ellie interrupted and leaned forward again, frowning. “Why do you need a bodyguard? You didn’t have one of those in LA, what the fuck?” 

“I have a bodyguard because you can’t go five minutes without saying fuck,” you said wryly. “My life is under constant threat because of…” 

“Please,” Ellie rolled her eyes. “You have a worse mouth than I do. But seriously, why do you need a bodyguard? Is something going on?” 

You saw Joel moving to talk but you spoke before he had a chance to. 

“This is just a different place than LA,” you said quickly. “People here aren’t used to people like me just showing up in grocery stores and stuff. It can get out of hand quick so the studio wanted me to have Joel around. It’s just a precaution.” 

She seemed skeptical but was satisfied enough by the bullshit explanation you’d just given her that she sat back, pulling a Savage Starlight comic book from her book bag and you smiled a little. A lot might have changed in the last few months but at least Ellie was still Ellie. 

You made it to the uniform store and told the woman inside - who was seemingly trying not to gape at you but was failing miserably - what you were looking for. She grabbed a few pairs of uniform pants in different sizes before leading Ellie to the fitting rooms and you hung back, waiting for her to change with Joel by your side. He stood facing you, eyes constantly sweeping the store as though this strip mall just outside Austin were a war zone. 

“No one told me you had a kid,” he said eventually. 

You smiled, sadly. 

“Yeah, well,” you said. “I have a kid. That’s a pretty new development, though.” 

That made him pause, his eyebrows drawing together as he looked to you. 

“I adopted her,” you said. “A few months ago. Her mom was a single parent and like a sister to me. When she got cancer, the first thing she asked me was to take Ellie if… I told her that she was nuts, that she’d be around forever and she wouldn’t need me to do anything for Ellie besides take her to Europe for a cool aunt vacation when she turned 18 but… well, now I have a kid.” 

“I…” His voice trailed off. “Shit. I’m sorry.”  

You shrugged. 

“It is what it is, I guess,” you said. “She’s why I’m here. Things in LA… I’ve always been in her life. I was the second person to ever hold her. But I’ve always kept the paparazzi far away from her, I’ve made sure she has privacy and that she was as sheltered from that part of my life as she could be. I want to settle into this with some version of normal, one that isn’t possible when I’m in LA. And you, Joel, are throwing quite a wrench into that.” 

“Oh this is so much better,” Ellie threw the door to the changing room open with a flourish, in a pair of blue pants that perfectly matched the blue of the sweater. “Not as good as jeans but better than that stupid freaking skirt.” 

“Alright,” you said. “We’ll take five of those and then we have to get you to school because there’s no point in loading you up on uniforms just to have you miss your first day, let’s go.” 

You weren’t as early as you wanted to be - you’d been hoping to have a chance to meet Ellie’s teachers before the day started but that plan was shot - but at least kids were still arriving. You grabbed a baseball cap from your glove box, Joel stiffening as you reached between his legs to open it and you resisted the urge to smirk at that. As though you’d be trying to come onto him at all let alone with your niece in the car. 

Hat on so you were somewhat disguised, you walked with Ellie and Joel to the front of the stone building, one that had clearly taken inspiration from the ivy league schools the kids who went here were all but destined to attend. A gray haired woman in a charcoal pantsuit rushed out to greet you, an almost stern look on her face. 

“Welcome to Austin Preparatory Academy,” she extended her hand. “I’m Amanda Stark, headmistress here.” 

“Good to meet you,” you said, taking her hand, feeling Joel standing oddly close to your back. “This is Ellie, she’s looking forward to starting here today and…” 

“We’re looking forward to having her,” she smiled a little at Ellie before redirecting her attention to you. “But I’m afraid there’s been some… ah… miscommunication about the uniform. Girls are required to wear skirts. I’m sure we have…” 

“No miscommunication,” you smiled a little, steeling your spine. From the moment you’d caved to Ellie, you knew this was coming. But you’d been prepared to fight far bigger battles over this kid, this wasn’t going to be any different. “Ellie just prefers to wear pants. It wasn’t a problem at her last school, I’m sure it won’t be a problem here.” 

Ellie stuck her chin out, smirking a little and defiant as ever and you resisted the urge to elbow her. She could at least act like she wasn’t going to get her way. 

“But it is,” the headmistress said. “The uniform code here has been this way for decades and…” 

“And I’m sure you’re not suggesting that just because something has been done one way that it should continue to be done that way at the expense of students’ comfort and learning experience,” you finished for her, smiling tightly.

“We have expectations for our students,” she said, her jaw clenched. “Just like they will have one day to be successful in life, and…” 

“And you’re wearing pants,” you nodded to her suit. “And so am I. Of course, if you’re suggesting that neither of us is successful then…” 

“No, no of course not, that’s not…” 

“Wonderful!” You said brightly. “I’m glad that’s settled. I’m sure Ellie won’t cause any disruption wearing the uniform pants and now I won’t need to spend my day contacting every major news network here in Austin and asking them to come here and chat with me about your archaic gender rules and expectations. Sound good?” 

You watched her grind her teeth for a moment. 

“Of course,” she said after a moment of silence hanging in the air. “But we are close to the start of the school day and…” 

“Yes, I don’t want to be a distraction,” you smiled before turning to Ellie, tucking a hair that had already broken free of her ponytail behind her ear. “Alright kid, behave yourself, OK?” 

“Yes Sissy,” she rolled her eyes. Your heart still tightened a little when she called you that. She sounded so much like her mother, Anna. You loved that Ellie called you the same thing her mother had but still, it stung.

“I’ll be back to pick you up,” you said, putting your hands on her shoulders. “Have a good first day, OK?” 

“Oh I will,” she said and you watched her head into the building with the headmistress at her side until you couldn’t see her anymore. 

“OK, she’s dropped,” Joel said, his voice tight. “Let’s move, this place isn’t secured.” 

“Well that sure seems like a gap in security, doesn’t it?” You said, brows raised. 

“One I would have fixed if anyone had bothered to tell me you had a damn kid,” he practically growled. 

“Probably a bad idea for your boss to not have insisted on bringing me into the conversation then, wasn’t it?” 

He looked at you, his face hard. 

“Keys.” He held out his hand.

You laughed once. 

“Keys?” You said. “Really? Just ‘keys,’” you grunted it like he did, “that’s it?”

“Your kid is inside,” he said, hand still out. “Don’t have her to use an excuse now so, keys.” 

You looked at him for a moment, the firm set of his jaw, the flecks of gray just starting in at his temples. He was a good looking man, tall and broad with a rugged look to him. He’d make a good cowboy in a western, you thought, or maybe a hardened detective. But protecting someone like you seemed out of place for him. Beneath him a little, almost like he was a sell out.

“No,” you said simply, ducking around him and heading for the car. 

He followed closely behind you, even his footfalls gruff and angry. You sped up a little but he stepped in front of you, anyway, his oddly large body blocking your door. He opened his mouth - probably to try to order you around again - but you cut him off before he had the chance. 

“I’m not letting you drive,” you said. “It doesn’t matter what you do or what you say. If you want to drive, you’re going to have to pick me up and move me so, if you want to get out of here quickly and without causing a scene, you’ll get in the passenger seat and we can go.” 

For half a moment, you thought he might actually throw you over his shoulder. Instead, he just grunted and stalked around to the other side of the car, ripping the door open roughly. You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. All this pretense over some stupid letters from some over zealous fan. 

You got in the car and dropped the keys in Joel’s lap. He frowned, picking them up. 

“You want to have the keys so bad? Fine.” You pushed the button and the car roared to life. “I’ve got them right where I want them.” 

“You gotta come to terms with how this shit is going to work,” he said sharply. “You can’t just do whatever the hell it is you feel like. I get that you’re some spoiled fuckin’ actress who only ever does exactly what she wants whenever she wants but I got news for you, I don’t give a shit how many movies you’ve been in or awards you’ve won. I care about keeping your ass alive and to do that, you gotta listen to me. I ain’t one of those fuckin’ ass kissers you spend all your time with so we can do this the hard way or the easy way but either way, it’s gonna be my fuckin’ way. Understood?” 

You watched him for a moment, your tongue between your teeth to keep from snapping at him. It was something you were used to, something you’d been doing since you were a girl, always shutting up while the people who were more powerful than you - people you’d made fucking rich - made every decision for you. 

That was one thing on set and in your career and even for posed fucking paparazzi shots but not in your real life. 

“I need coffee,” you said, putting the car in drive. “Coffee?” 

“I’m sure you got people who can do that for you,” he said, his jaw clenched. 

“Yes, but where’s the fun in that?” You smirked before nodding down to his wrist. “Oh, also? Your watch is broken.” 

You pressed the gas harder than you should have, the car jumping sharply forward, wondering just how far you could push your new shadow before he backed out.

Next Chapter

A/N: OK I'm already in love with writing how these two push each other's buttons. Annoying Joel Miller is my passion, I can't wait to drive this man absolutely insane over the arc of this fic.

Thank you so much for being patient as I wrapped up Yearling and went on vacation! I'm hoping to update this once a week going forward so you won't need to wait quite so long between chapters from here on out. I hope you enjoyed getting to know these two a little better!

Taglist: @christinamadsen @eff4freddie @brittmb115 @copperhalfcent @r3dheadedwitch @pedropascalsbbg @lovelyjess69 @yopossum @moel-jiller @picketniffler

[meowmeowriley]

Bunny ghost anon again, with a slightly more normal but not really idea, where one of the things that tips Johnny off to Ghost’s species is the amount of greens he goes through. This is a man Johnny has found at 3am, shoveling arugula into his mouth from the bag. No salt, no oil, no dressing. And it’s happened more than once. You’d think a man as beefy as ghost would be an absolute carnivore, but Soap knows better than most that leaves can translate into the plumpest bunnies. So he goes on the ever-so-subtle mission of finding Ghost’s Favorite Leaf. Different lettuces, bok choy, spinach, watercress, parsley, cilantro, basil, blackberry, raspberry, mint, fennel. Ends up with a whole garden on base trying to keep his favorite rabbit well-fed.

-🐇👻

I love this so much, but I'm gonna approach it a bit differently.

Once Soap finds out Ghost is a bunny shifter he's initially shocked, and then appalled. He's seen Ghost eat. (How the hell he ignored the buck teeth, which should have been his first sign, he'll never know.) He's seen Ghost eat meat. That's not good for him. Wild rabbits have been known to eat meat when food is scarce, but that's when things are dire. No wonder the man was so lean.

That just wouldn't do. Soap made it his mission to correct Ghost's appalling diet. At the next meal, he found Ghost in the mess, a tray containing eggs and bacon in front of himself. He was about to dig in.

Soap swipes the tray away. Thump. Ghost is not pleased. "Sergeant. That's my breakfast."

"You're an herbivore."

"I'm hungry. Don't make me make it an order, give me back my food." Thump. Soap takes off running.

He runs into the kitchen, rips open the industrial fridge, and grabs a head of bok choy. He whips around to find Ghost bearing down on him, absolutely about to beat his ass, fist raised, and he thrusts the veg into Ghost's chest.

Ghost... examines the food... takes a bite... humms a bit... and backs down. Soap very nearly died, and damn was it worth it to see the softness overtake Ghosts features.

***

Soap gives a list to Price, of all the things rabbits can eat, who gives it to medical, who puts in a request for the kitchen staff to start offering vegetarian options at every meal.

There's a garden on base after that. Soap tends to it. Sometimes finds his Lieutenant stealing from it.

"Hey, get out of my fucking garden!"

"I'll shit in your fucking garden!"

Which wouldn't actually be a problem, rabbit excrement makes excellent fertilizer. It's the principle of the matter.

[empressdede]

Addiction

Like Martin Luther baby I had a dream and wrote it down 😭😭 Hope you guys enjoy it🥺🫶🏾 Also heavy inspired by (THIS)

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In moments like these Trinity really sat and wondered if this was something healthy. Her husband was always on her case about being healthy, always trying to get her to eat the right meals and to throw away her sweets. One thing about Trin, she had a sweet tooth; addicted to things that made her feel good even if it wasn’t good for her and Jonathan was always there to put her in check and keep her in line.

But this…. Jonathon encouraged. When he found out about it, he pushed her to keep doing it and she really wondered: was this healthy for my marriage? But then again, did it matter? Did it matter when the moment was everything she’s ever wanted and more? It made her feel good, and she was always addicted to thing that made her feel good.

"You feel good baby?" Alexis whispered in her ear drawing her back to reality. Once again, Trinity found herself back at her best friends house. Both of them stripped from clothing and in her bed.

Alexis leaned against her headboard with Trinity’s back pressing to her chest. Alexis’ hands were trailing up and down her body in a sensual manner, massaging the coco butter scented body oil into her skin. Trinity let her head fall backwards to Alexis’ shoulder and nodded her head.

Alexis caressed Trin’s breast with one hand and finally let other hand slip two fingers into her. A small moan slips through her lips and her hips moves to chase Alexis’ fingers as they started to create their own pace.

Sweat inked their skin from the foreplay already, they burned for each other and it sucked for Alexis when her best friend was always on the road because she always miss having her in this element. She tries to savor each and every moment but she always gets lost in the moment, her priority always being that she made Trin cum for her.

The squelching noise could be heard in the room as she continued to thrust her fingers in Trinity. Her other hand tweaking and pulling on Trinity’s nipples to further the stimulation of pleasure running down her body.

Trinity’s moans were louder now and Alexis let out her own moan of appreciation. "This my pussy?" Alexis asked softly in her ear.

"Yes baby." Trinity moaned out, bucking her hip against Alex’s hand. Her eyes were damn near glued to the back of her head with the sensations that were flowing throughout her body because fuck.

"Alex." Trin softly called out and Alexis didn’t really need the warning. She knew, she always knew with the way her walls her clenching against her fingers.

"You gonna cum for me baby? Mama making her pretty pussy cum?"

"Yess, gonna make me cum." Trinity whined out, "F-fuck, don’t stop… please." She begged and she never would.

"M’not even gone for 10 whole minutes and look at you." Another voice rings out into the room.

In the midst of them being lost in each other, they didn’t hear the front door open and close. Missed the heavy footsteps that treaded up the stairs nor did they sense the extra pair of eyes watching them.

Alexis’ eyes slitted up to her door, where Jonathan stood leaning against her doorway. Her fingers never ceased their pace, Trinity let out another moan and arched her back as she felt herself cum.

"There we go mama, let it out." Alexis whispered, her eyes never leaving Jonathan’s as she slowed down her thrusting to let Trinity ride out her high.

Jonathan kept his gaze on Alexis while Trinity tried to catch her breath. His only problem with this picture was Alexis was almost trying to assert her dominance to him and he just couldn’t have that.

"You looking for sum’ Lexie?" He questioned, pushing himself off the door to walk towards the two.

Alexis felt the shivers run up her back, the slow steps that Jonathan took to them were calculated, he was trying to get her to fix herself but it was too late, being with Trinity always flared the dominant side of her. "No." She whispered to him, she didn’t want to challenge Jon today, not when she just got them back.

Jon stood in front them, and a smirk took over his face, raising an eyebrow at Alexis almost amusingly. "Just eager to put hands on Trin huh?”

“We missed each other.” Trinity stated, turning her head to face her husband.

Jon smiled sweetly at his wife, her head was still leaned back against Alexis’ shoulder and Alexis’ arms were still holding her tightly. The small affection between the two pulled on his heartstrings, something he wasn’t going to admit out loud yet because of how complicated everything was between the three of them.

“And what about me?” He asked tilting his head to the side at the girls.

“Missed you too baby.” Alexis cooed, tilting her head up at Jon and puckering her lips for a kiss.

Jonathan smirked, leaning down to press his lips against hers in a slow kiss. “I thought I told y’all to wait for me?”

“It was me Jurdy, I started it. I couldn’t help it.” Trin confessed and in retrospect, Trinity shouldn’t have been okay with seeing her husband kiss another women, her best friend no less but she was okay with it. More than okay with it when all three of them being together made her feel a euphoric feeling that she’d never felt before.

“Wanna show you guys something I bought on the road for you.” Trin stated with a smile sliding off of Alexis to go retrieve her ‘gift’, pushing Jon to take a seat in her place. “Just wait here and I’m gonna go get it.” With a quick kiss to her husband she was quick to leave.

Showing back up to the room to find Alexis in the same position she was in not too long ago and she smiled at the scene in front of her. Jonathan caught her gaze and was whispering in Alexis ear.

“Look at what she bought for you Lexie.” He whispered huskily in her ear as he continue to thrust his fingers in and out of Alexis. “Come give her some love Trin.”

And it was as if her foot had a mind of its own, walking towards the two and crawling on the bed to add herself to the equation. Alexis tilting her head up to look at Trin and tried to appreciate the outfit that she had on for them but Jonathan’s fingers pressed against her spot which caused her to loudly moan.

“Feels good huh baby?” Trin whispered, a small smirked on her face as she reversed the gesture back to Alexis.

Alexis nods her head and Trin closes the spaces between them. This moment was the only moment that mattered to all three of them, no matter how unorthodox this seemed to anybody. Their desires for each other was something that could’ve been only described as sweet, something so good that you can’t walk away from it.

Jonathan, Trinity and Alexis found themselves lost in each other like an addiction and it wasn’t something they were looking for a remedy for any time soon.

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👀 ya’ll just as gay as me or am I a problem? Lol ENJOY THOUGH

[sentoooo]

[anon: Can you write a nsfw alfabet with Smoke, if you haven't written one yet?] sorry i havent gotten to this one yet!!!! didnt mean to keep you waiting anon. im a little bit behind on requests, but here i am!!! i also wanna thank yall for the support, i really didn't expect to get a whole lotta numbers on my writing since this is all for self-indulgence really T_T. i appreciate each and every one of yall

cw: NSFW, amab, bondage, body worship, dry humping, little mention of blowjobs, not proofread MINORS DNI

ᴛᴏᴍᴀꜱ ᴠʀʙᴀᴅᴀ || ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀʙᴇᴛ

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tomas' HOBBY is taking care of you. Out of everyone, I think he is the most attentive. He has an entire checklist. First, he checks in with you. He makes sure you're okay afterward, he asks how the sex was, and sometimes he'll ask about his performance. He likes opening up the discussion because it shows him what he could do better, what you like, and what you'd like to try. Next, he's gonna cuddle up to you. Hold you all close, play with your hair, and pepper your face with kisses. After that, he'll carry you off to the shower and wash up, still peppering you with kisses. He just can't get his mind off your damn lips. Before you fall asleep, he insists on giving you a massage, and getting you a snack and some water, too. He'll even light some incense, as well. He's got all sorts of essential oils for you, like a whole library. And once he's finished his checklist, he keeps you close. Even in his sleep. He loves it when you lay your head on his chest.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part of his is his shoulders. They make him feel especially strong. He also thinks they hold the story of his journey, from hunting with his family to becoming a ninja with the Lin Kuei. Not to mention, they help a lot with hunting, mainly with a bow. Regardless, he's just proud of how far he has come, and he believes his shoulder specifically show that.

On you, he loves your lips. Your entire face, really. But he can never get enough of your lips. How soft & inviting they are, how warm, it's just so hard to stay away from them. He always finds himself sneaking quick kisses from you in public. He also loves heavy make-out sessions, doesn't matter if they lead to sex or not. He just enjoys the feeling of your lips on his.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Tomas prefers to cum inside, he thinks it's kind of like marking what's his. It also feels more intimate. But if you don't want him to, then he'll cum outside. And he kind of likes it, too. He likes how it looks on your stomach, particularly. He also loves to kiss you when he cums, it's even more intimate to him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Just how much he wishes he could see you masturbate. Yeah, he can ask, but he's too nervous to. He can only imagine you, too caught up, pleasuring yourself, moaning out his name, whimpering. Yearning for him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's got some experience, just enough to know what he's doing. But he learns more with you, maybe a little too much. Because he's comfortable with you, he really likes exploring your body. And through that, he's learned of all your little quirks and such. He especially loves dragging his hand down your chest and your stomach, he finds that it makes you shiver quite a bit.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Good ol' missionary. Tomas prefers to see your face, and missionary is perfect. Keeps you two close, he can kiss you whenever, however he likes. And he gets to give you as much pleasure as possible. But, if you're feeling like a little bit of a workout, he also likes London Bridge, he just really likes to get in there deep. But he also loves holding you by the small of your back.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's serious. Like Bi-Han, sex is a very sacred act to him. It's one of the things that can establish a deeper bond with you, and he prefers to keep the tone serious. He wants you to take it seriously, too.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's smoooooth, baby. No chest hair, no pubic hair, no nothing. He likes it that way.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's amongst the sweetest. Sex is one of the deeper connections between you, so he makes sure you know he loves you. He'll outright say it, yes, but his actions speak louder than words. Mainly his attraction to your lips, he loves kissing you any chance he gets. He also loves it when you moan into his mouth. But he also spends ample time tracing your body, kissing down your neck, your chest, your stomach, all of your body. He needs you to know he loves every part of your body. Not to mention the words he'll say. He tells you exactly what he loves about you, he'll speak to you in Czech. Doesn't matter if you don't know it, sometimes he can't find the words in English. He also calls you all sorts of sweet things, Miláček, Drahoušek, Medvídek, Kotě.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't really need to jack off that much. Maybe like thrice in two weeks? But he prefers you, so he doesn't jack off unless he really can't get you off his mind.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Body Worship. All the way. Tomas loves taking his sweet time with you, admiring every little bit about you. He especially loves all the delicious little sounds you make as he goes along, how you reach for him. He loves knowing of your yearning.

He also enjoys dry humping. Knowing that the gratification of skin on skin contact is so close but so far. Grinding up against you, moaning out your name, begging for you as if he isn't doing this to himself. He also loves it when you grinding up against his knee.

Sensory Play is another another one he enjoys. Blindfolding you, mainly. But he does also enjoy light bondage. Tying you up and blindfolding you, containing yourself. He likes the idea of being able to do anything he wants to you, with consent of course. Seeing you try to wiggle out of your restraints as he enjoys your body, rubbing his hands down your legs, kissing your chest, all of that.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Tomas actually prefers fucking outside in the forest. He likes the mood, it reminds him of the nights he'd hunt. It kind of brings something primal out of him! But he doesn't mind doing it in his room, or yours. He is kind of into shower/bath sex, as well. Even if it doesn't require penetration, if he can still jack you off in the bath, he'll enjoy it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As mentioned before, simply kissing you gets him off. He loves when just a small peck leads to a nice, passionate kiss, to a full on make-out session. Especially when you end up on top of him. But he also loves watching you fight. He knows you're skilled, but just watching you in action gets him a little excited.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He hates being teased. In any sort of way. He likes to keep the rhythm going, because he's very in the mood. So edging, or a ruined orgasm really doesn't fly in his book. He hates having to beg or ask for permission to cum.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He can go either way, he likes it when you give him head, but if you ask for him to go down on you, he doesn't mind either. He kind of likes it, regardless. He likes doing anything that makes you squirm with his touch, so if you want him to, gladly. But if you offer to give him head, he won't refuse. He loves it when you deepthroat him, especially.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He's got a moderate pace, not to fast, not to slow. Depends on the mood, really. If you two are having a quiet night, being soft with each other, he'll go slow & sensual. But, if things are getting heated, he's gonna go faster. And rougher, if you want. Especially in the woods, that's where he likes to fuck you pretty.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

You'd have to convince him. If you two haven't been able to enjoy sex for about a month, he's okay with it. He knows the importance of sex, and just releasing that energy once in a while. But if you two have time for a full-fledged night, then he'd prefer you two wait until then.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's perfectly fine with where he is. He isn't really comfortable with risks or experimenting, he thinks he's doing fine as is. And he knows you feel good with him, so to him there's no point.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Alllll night. And maybe shower sex, afterwards. But he's all tuckered out in the morning. Because of his training (and prior hunting), he has more than enough stamina. He just needs at least a day to recover, if you do go all night.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Not really, only the needs to tie you up in light bondage. But if you have toys, he'll gladly use them, and incorporate them into sex regularly. He loves giving you the extra boost of pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Tomas doesn't tease, he's probably the fairest out of the roster. Because he hates being teased, he won't tease you in any way. Even if you argue that his extensive body-worship routine is teasing. You both know it's not.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Depends on the mood. If it's a sensual night, he's rather quiet, moaning directly into your ear. But if you two are out in the woods, and he's goin' rough, he'll be a lot louder, even growling a bit. Actually, some of the words he says has a bit of a growl to it, too.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sometimes, when he's real into it, he has a little bit of a Czech accent. Obviously, when he's speaking Czech. But even some phrases in English will have a little bit of accent to it. Especially when he's closer to your ear. It's not something you hear much, since he's been with the Lin Kuei longer than he had been in Prague.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Tomas is a grower, 6.2" in length when hard, 1.6" wide. Leans slightly to the right, and moderately veiny.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He's really just ready whenever you are. His sex drive isn't the highest, but it isn't low, either. He's patient, he can wait until whenever.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends on how long you two went on for. If it was all night, all he can really do is finish his aftercare checklist, and then he'll pass right out on your chest. But if you two only went for like three rounds, he's making an effort to stay up until you're asleep.

[withered--s0uls]

OKAY, I think I'm done for now.

@electrozeistyking and I a little while ago talked about how GD!N would react to DAS!Cyn. They went on about in a reblog but basically he would be extremely happy bc DAS!Cyn is a separate entity to the Absolute Solver, therefore meaning she's not the one behind everything.

So at first they probably both would be extremely happy. DAS!Cyn in her own AU upon meeting N first is absolutely terrified that he might hate her after everything the AS made her do. So the fact GD!N would react very positively to her presence would be a huge a relief to her.

Now, the issue is that the "Dormant" in "Dormant" Absolute Solver is in quotations for a reason. It simply lost interest in her as a main host / had no need for her anymore. It still has admin rights over DAS!Cyn and she still has a Solver Form. Though she doesn't use it by choice bc of PTSD triggers (until possibly a specific point in Ep7 but I'm waiting for ep8 to decide).

So yeah I think that would make both GD!N and DAS!Cyn kinda anxious to put it lightly.

(More Art and stuff under cut because this crossover has been living RENT FREE IN MY HEAD)

Also fun fact

@electrozeistyking has mentioned and shown Beanie finding comfort in the sound of her fathers core.

Well funny story.

DAS!Cyn always was comforted by her brothers core back at the manor, when they first reuite at the start of Ep6 and she sees DAS!Uzi summon her Solver wings and tail, her instinct is pressing closer to DAS!Ns chest for comfort. Her memories of the Solver features are very very blurry, but she is triggered by seeing them regardless.

I thought It was cute the girls have that in common, so I decided to draw them and GD!N sleeping with the girls having their heads close to his core :3

OKAY FINALLY WE GET TO THE DOODLE PAGE

I didn't feel like fully making these so they're sketchy doodles :"

The first two are based on Zeisty saying GD!N would probably pick DAS!Cyn up and spin her around. Also you probably noticed between this doodle, the first drawing & the Tiny!N & DAS crossover post, but DAS!Cyn displays flowers on her visor to emote happiness!

The 3rd and 4th are just random interactions between the kiddos lol. I feel like Beanie probably would be happy to have another Auntie, not to mention one closer to her age so they can do silly kid stuff together. DAS!Cyn... oh boy

She would feel a whole range of emotions; grief about missing so much of her brothers life (like he has a kid ffs), guilt and self blame after finding out what happened to Uzi (she blames herself for everything the AS caused, even tho she never agreed to it) which might end up in a "slight" breakdown, anger at the AS for causing GD!N that kind of pain and eventually once she processed all those emotions she probably would be excited to get to know Beanie. Like!! Imagine finding out you have a little Niece!!

She probably would struggle to easily keep up with Beanie bc she still has motor issues like in canonverse so she's a little slower, so it'd be mostly her trying not to fall over her own feet whilst being dragged around by an excited toddler who probably even with child lock is stronger than her lmao.

Also I drew DAS!Cyn in an alternate outfit bc I wanted to actually kinda show the oil reserve canister,,,

Ok wanting to respond to the hashtags specifically bc :)) yay

Also ig this is some DAS lore fact drops lol

Yeah, DAS!Cyn kinda didn't take it well either when she first realized the AS technically can still take over if it really wanted to after she transferred bodies in an attempt to escape. Imagine getting your core nearly crushed in an attempt to flee from robo satan just to find out entity STILL can use you for their bidding. Like!!! Damn that's not fair the kid nearly fucking died trying to break free!!!

DAS!Cyn definitely would want to spare Beanie the horrors too. DAS!Cyn herself is mentally like 7-10/11 at best 6-9 at worst -- despite kids usually just saying whatever comes to mind, she repressed most AS related stuff for a reason, she definitely wouldn't share what she knows with her newfound niece

I feel things would be either super great and happy or super traumatizing depending on when in the timeline we throw DAS!Cyn at them. If she's there during ep 6-7? Oh boy. Oh no. DAS!Cyn & DAS!N have an exchange during Ep7 that would not go over so well if it was GD!N in DAS!Ns place, because it would be awfully similar to GD!Uzis death -- she doesn't die, because DAS!N can't get himself to shoot with her being so close to the AS, despite her literally shouting at him to do it and that she won't be angry, that'll be fine. -- yeah I don't think GD!N would handle that well 😭 Zeisty feel free to get the angst train rolling if you wanna add your two cents on how that'd go over -- any point before that? Probably fine. Post S1? I'd imagine also fine depending on what Ep8 throws at us (except like... look at ideas list for more info*)

I'll assume that'd be Beanie reacting to seeing DAS!Cyn having the Solver tail and possibly the glitching Solver symbol in her visor. Yeah she definitely would try to play it off and go try and hide somewhere until she can get it under control again. High stress or negative emotions causes her Solver to act up (unrelated to the AS, just her own Solver form without the entity controlling anything!!) So what I said above to her reaction to the news of GD!Uzi being dead? And possibly finding out the reason why? Yeah that might trigger her tail and wings to pop out and her to basically be reduced to a hyperventilating ball on the floor because of proceeding to blame herself for all of GD!Ns suffering due to thinking the AS actions & it being a danger are her fault

Other things I kinda wanted to doodle but didn't for now, might do at a later point;

Cyn still has a Solver Core, which is the same as a DD core (except smaller lol). So I was playing with the idea of Beanie noticing that her core sounds different from GD!Ns due to hers being severely damaged and actively leaking after the AS attempted to crush it during the body transfer. DAS!Cyn then trying to play it off

Some kind of acknowledgement of the Oil reserve canister on DAS!Cyns back, it was made by Tessa before the AS did the medurder and stuff. It's supposed to help keep the Solver in check by preventing overheating, hence why its directly connected to her chest where her core is

There was something else but it slipped my mind

Smth I'm not gonna say publicly for now until Zeisty posts something about it and/or eventually posts the chapters bc I don't want to spoil esp not bc it isn't my place to :" (if you're curious, Zeisty, lmk I can tell you in VC or DMs lol) but it partly would possibly be related to the 1st idea listed

* I have an idea for what happens to Cyns original body (the one the AS uses & that wears Tessa) post Ep8 IF Ep8 let's me do it that is. I think it could be fun to crossover that idea bc of GD!Ns ghost sight.... tho it definitely also would be fucking stressful and trauma inducing bc Solver stuff sooo yeah rip (again, if you want I could elaborate in vc or DMs on this bc I want to first wait and see what the season finale brings before I do anything "official" with this)

GD!N reacting to the information that DAS!Cyn canonly shot "Tessas" gun at the AS (well technically at its tentacles. Point being that kid fired a gun/knows how to use one) -- which again could be very interesting if we were to toss them into the same Ep7 bc that's when she does it

Possibly GD!N finding out ab the scars/cracks surrounding DAS!Cyns core bc,,, yeah

Anyways uuuhh heightbsheet bc I'm 99% sure I drew stuff inaccurate

These were actually so fun to draw and think & talk about. I'll post the GD x IC crossover once I'm done with that (yes, yes there is more than what you already saw Zeisty. Not much more but more nonetheless)

[universallychaoticpan]

Hello! How about Chuuya, Dazai and Ranpo taking a bath with the reader?

Ugh taking baths- I fucking love it. I didn't know if you wanted hdc or what so I hope this works. :))

A full experience, ok?

Babe, you're gonna be so spoiled.

I'm talking candles, rose petals, champagne- the whole deal. I can see Chuuya making it a weekly ritual for the two of you.

The dude works for the damn mafia for gods sake; if he loves you, you're getting the best he can offer and then some.

If you'd like, I feel like Chuuya would enjoy washing your hair. I can see the act soothing him; and it does the same for you.

///

The air was warm, the lights had been replaced by candles and their lavender scented fire. The cool stone of your bathtub was slippery on your skin, but as water cascaded down your back, you never felt more peaceful. Chuuya's work was meticulous and flawless; like everything else he did, he did it as if to perfect. You sighed as his hands began rubbing circles into your shoulders, releasing a week's worth of stress and exhastion.

"You work too hard, love," he murmured. He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder making your lips curve into a smile he could only sense.

"I could say the same to you," you chuckled. "But I'm enjoying this too much to argue with you."

"Then my job is done."

"Yes, it is," you smiled. Holding one hand in place where it sat on your shoulder, you lightly pressed your lips against it. "Just enjoy this with me."

"Oh, doll, haven't I told you," he grinned mischievously. "You flash that smile once and I die a happy man."

Baths with him go one of two ways. Either it's very soft and romantic, or it's very soft and romantic which leads to other things.

Either way, bet on him wanting to touch you at all times.

I can see him being a fan of you sitting against his chest so he can hold you. Or just enjoying the weight of your body on him.

Will use lotion as an excuse to touch you. (Doesn't really get why there are so many, but loves smelling them all.)

Best part is holding you after though. Likes burying his nose into your hair and holding you so close or leaving little kisses on the top of your head as you fall asleep.

///

He could feel the rhythms of your heart beat under his fingers, and smiled against your neck when he felt it quicken. He relished how it began to pound, betraying you when he slid your hair over one shoulder, exposing your dew-studded skin to the air.

"Even now," he whispered, "you still fall apart at my touch?"

You sighed, the sound airy, breathy and so melodic. "You sound shocked, my love." Looking up through your lashes at him, you stole his breath when he turned your face to his. You leaned in close, closer, until the only sound was the gentle ripples of the rose scented water and your shallow, ready breathing. "You shouldn't be so surprised," you whispered, eyes on his lips. "you've done a terrible thing to me, you know."

"Yeah? And what would that be darling?"

You smirked, pulling away. "Oh come now; where's the fun in me just telling you?"

He knew you saw the way his breath hitched. You knew he saw the way your eyes gleamed as you moved to kiss him again. And you both knew that the heat you felt when your lips met wasn't just the water.

There are sweets involved

Come on, it's Ranpo for Christ sake- and any relaxation time must come with his special touch.

I can see him very intently studying all the products you have just for this type of situation and then grilling you about what they're for.

Yeah, he's a genius, but he's also a little shit (look at that smirk and tell me he isn't,) but he also just likes hearing you talk.

///

Ranpo's nose wrinkled as he held up a bottle. "Lavender epsom salt?"

"Relaxes your muscles and the scent is a natural sleep aid."

"Body milk?"

"Softening and moisturizing."

"Who puts milk on themselves anyway," he muttered. "Rose oil?"

"Oh, that one just smells nice," you giggled.

"So this is where your paycheck is going huh?" Even through the steam his smirk was clear as day.

"Oh shut up, you spend all your money on sweets anyway. It's a miracle we can afford rent."

"Speaking of," he sang, "close your eyes!"

You sighed, but obliged him. "You're gonna make me do this every time aren't you?"

"Yup, that's the game," he chirped. "Closed!!"

"Yeah yeah you big baby, they're closed," you laughed. "Now give me the chocolate before I lose the rest of my patience with you."

Suddenly the air on your bare shoulders felt much colder as you felt him leaning in.

"So impatient, my dear y/n...someone should teach you some manners."

The chocolate was sweet - even you couldn't fault his taste- but that didn't stop you from rolling your eyes into the back of your head once they opened.

"You," you murmured, placing a hand fondly against his cheek, "are so lucky I love you." You were joking really, a teasing smile on your mouth, but you could have sworn you heard his voice just louder than the soft lapping of the scented water.

"You've got yourself a lucky bastard then."

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Why?

Requested: No

Warnings: Light angst, Robot!Reader

A/N: Wow, two preferences in one day? What the hell was in my chocolate this morning?

You couldn’t fathom it. Couldn’t….couldn’t understand it. Comprehend it. Accept it. That this person, this living breathing human being, was really treating you like this. That they seemed to….value you in some way. At first you had thought of it as a joke, a cruel one that they shared amongst themselves. Tease the bot, remind them of their place. It was a game you were all too familiar with, and always ended up with a pain in your chest, right where a beating heart would be for a human being. But this person….they were so nice. So genuine in their actions, so unlike all the others you had met over the years. And they had taken care of you, patched you up and repaired you, given you a purpose in this life after you had been tossed aside like common trash, left to rust and deteriorate in a scrap pile, barely clinging to that last bit of battery life, to consciousness. You remembered exactly what you thought of before the lights inside you dimmed.

I don’t want to die.

And you hadn’t. Something that had been quite a shock to you when you woke up in a dark room. The rust scrubbed from your plates, your gears and joints oiled, your battery in the middle of a long recharge. By a cable no less! You couldn’t remember the last time you had been charged by one of those instead of the wireless charging that had become common over the years.

You were alive. You had been given a second chance. And you were determined not to waste it. But that doubt lingered in you, festered like infection in an open wound. And one day, you couldn’t stop yourself from asking the question that plagued you since the day you woke up in their home.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Treating me like a person.”

Price

Price hummed softly, the question not entirely unexpected. It’s likely that he was already questioning that himself for some time now. Ever since he brought you into his home, started fixing you up, growing so attached to you so quickly. Sitting by your bed as he waited for your servers to turn on, replacing your batteries so many times he lost count. So gentle whenever he had to open you up to fix something. Even giving you your own room, and a bed to lay on. And complete and utter freedom to do…whatever you wanted. Sure he’d always been a bit kinder to bots everywhere, some part of him unable to separate their human faces from their mechanical insides, but with you it was like it was dialed up to a thousand. He looked at you, and he couldn’t see anything but a living breathing person.

“....Dunno, Love.” He’d say, tilting his head as he met your eyes. The clear crystal blue soft and shimmering under the moonlight that shone in through the kitchen window. “You want me to stop?” He asked, seeming pleased when you shook your head. “Good. That’s all that matters then.”

Gaz

“You get bonked on the head again, Love?” Gaz would ask in return, arching his brow at you before bending over to pick up a box left at the front door. A new cooling fan for you, since yours was starting to malfunction. “That’s about the dumbest question I've ever heard. You’re a person. Course i treat you like people.” He says, cutting open the box before pulling out the small fan. “Don’t matter that you need things like this. That your insides are different then mine. You’re a person all the same. And I'd bet my last pound that, if such a thing as souls exist, you got one just like me. One much shinier and brighter, all good and perfect. I just know it.” He tells you, a bright sunshine-like smile crossing his face, and you could feel your broken whirring to life as your circuits malfunctioned and started to burn molten hot, heating up your whole body until your systems had to do a mandatory shut down just to avoid melting anything. Leaving Gaz to panic and damn near tear the house to pieces looking for the tools to open you up and replace that damn fan.

Ghost

A slow blink, a tilt of the head. Cold eyes raking over you in thought. Thinking through every word meticulously, making sure nothing left his mouth until he knew exactly what he wanted to say to you. It took a few minutes, anxiety inducing silence that would have you sweating if you were capable of such a thing. Until finally, blessed finally, he graced you with a soft response.

“You are a person.” He whispered, so soft that you almost didn't hear him. He repeated it, a bit louder when you tilted your head in confusion. “You are a person. To me at least. Maybe not to all those bellends outside, but to me. I’ve seen you laugh, get upset, excited, curious. I’ve never met someone who has so much personality to them before. And it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, because they don’t know you like I do. They haven’t seen every beautiful part of you that you try to hide behind a disguise of being just a bot. I know. And I’ll make sure that you know it soon enough to, so you don’t ever ask any daft questions like that ever again.”

Soap

“Watcha mean, Love?” Soap will ask, head tilted in utter confusion. Like you just asked him something in gibberish, brows scrunched together and mouth twisted in a little pout. “Tha’s a dumb question. You are a person. Course I treat you like one.” He says, shrugging his shoulders before turning back to your dismantled arm piece, adjusting some of the little screws and oiling the gears. It was almost funny how he could say that so casually, as if he wasn’t fixing your mechanics right this instant, his fingers tenderly stroking over metal and silicon, like he was scared he might hurt you if he pressed too hard. You didn’t even get the chance to protest his statement before he was opening his mouth again, effectively cutting you off. “I dinnae wanna hear anymore ah that talk, Lovey. You’re a person, my person. Simple as that.” He says, turning to give you a soft smile, hand reaching out to touch your cheek. His hands calloused and rough, but oh so warm. You could feel your motors backfiring, sensors heating up beneath his touch. And that grin on his face took a mischievous turn when he noticed, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Glad we had that chat then, Love.”

[kydrogendragon]

I'd intrigued by BtoA Hob or Prayers, for the wip game. Mysteries are so compelling.

Yessss okay, so! BtoA Hob being Beta to Alpha Hob. It's a planned expanded version of this. I don't have much else written for it other than some notes here and there and a snippet or two.

Prayers was a fic idea I had where Hob stumbles across Dream's God/Worshipped kink? I don't know what it would be called, exactly. But Hob's half heartedly "praying" to him. More things like "wish I had your imagination now, love" or "wish you were here" but more prayer-ish?

Anyways, have some snippets!

BtoA:

"Hob?" Dream asks, his scent curling towards something sharper and Hob nearly cries again because he can smell that! He can detect the changes in Dream's scent for the first time. It's as clear as day to him and he shoves his face further into Dream's neck in response which only makes Dream more frantic. "Hob? What is wrong? Are you in pain?" "No," he manages, opening his mouth to better taste and smell Dream's scent as he nuzzles against the mark at his neck. "Only good. So good. So, so good. Mine. My love, my mate." And then he's giggling, his laughter shaking the both of them. "I can smell you. All of you," he says reverently, the words, the realization, holy. Their own personal gospel. And Hob knows, as he takes another breath in and drowns in Dream's essence that this is right. This whole journey, this emotionally taxing time was worth it and was right because Dream is his true mate. And suddenly Hob can't envision a world where that wasn't true.

Prayers:

“Really could use your brain right now, my Dream,” Hob’s voice calls out once more. Dream rests on his throne, listening to Lucienne’s latest reports concerning the West most skerries when he hears it. The words caress him, trailing over his arms with a more genuine wish than the last. “Send me a good dream, if you can hear me. One that’ll figure out how to finish up this damn paper.” Hob’s voice winds to a close, ending on an aggravated sigh. He turns his mind towards the dreamers of London and finds most of them well within the borders of his realm. It is late there. Hob should be asleep by now. Dream frowns. Standing, he turns to his librarian with a nod of his head. “Apologies, Lucienne. But there is a matter I must attend to.” Dream reaches into his coat pocket and pulls forth his sand. “Inform the Duke that he can expect a team send over to address his concerns with the island.” Lucienne bows, holding her clipboard against her chest. “Of course, my Lord. Might I ask where you are headed?” Sand spills between his fingers. “The Waking. I will not be long.” Dream slides between the worlds and lands on the hardwood floors just outside the door to Hob’s flat. The sky is dark, the moon high above the city, yet light streams out from under the front door. Dream knocks twice and waits. Before, he had simply appeared within Hob’s flat, however after startling Hob in the middle of his cooking, causing hot oil to spill over his lover’s hand, Dream has taken to the standard human entrance. He would not see Hob injured again due to something so simple. There is the gentle padding of footsteps from within and then the door creaks open. Hob’s hair closer resembles Dream’s own than it does his usual appearance. Strands fly out at every angle, clear signs that he has been running his hands through it rather aggressively. And though Hob’s eyes shine as they land on Dream, the droop of them is unmistakable. “Well, speak of the Devil,” Hob quips. Dream raise a brow which earns him a small chuckle as Hob shakes his head. “Nothing, nevermind you. Come on in.” He steps back, holding the door open. Dream steps inside, resting his hand atop Hob’s hip as his lover closes the door, locking it behind them. “It is late.” Hob sighs, stepping closer into Dream’s arms. He rests his forehead against the Endless’s shoulder, tucking his nose against his pale neck. Hob is warm against him. Dream cannot help but tilt his head to rest against Hob’s own.

Wip List

[octuscle]

Can I claim AMS 5 please

You were hoping that there might be some weed in the suitcase. Instead, the suitcase is full of faggot fetish shit. You really can't do anything with that. Too bad. You rummage through the suitcase again, but nothing you could use. You could have saved yourself the trouble with the suitcase. You're a mechanical engineer. At a congress in Amsterdam. You'll have to organise your weed differently.

No matter how often you wash your hands, that rubber smell just won't come off. It was annoying at dinner. But now in bed it's just penetrating. Fortunately, you finally manage to fall asleep. And you dream confusedly and wildly.

The next morning you realise that the suitcase with the rubber things is open again. No wonder the whole place smells of the stuff. What a shame. Leather is more your thing. Your dick would react more to that. And speaking of dicks: That's a new piercing, isn't it? Like the one through your septum.

You're finding it harder and harder to concentrate at the congress… You can't get the suitcase out of your head. After the lunch break you go back to the hotel. You just have to try this stuff. However, the way there is difficult. Although you use a lot of silicone oil, the hair on your body just bothers you when you get dressed. Actually, it bothers you at all. The sexy smooth latex would look much better if your skin was smooth and shiny. Nevertheless, your cock already produces ounces of precum when you look in the mirror.

You call the spa to see if they offer epilation. They do, and they have an appointment available if you don't have a problem with a male beautician. As long as he's hot. Did you really just answer that? You put on your bathrobe and take the lift to the spa. The young man who welcomes you is hot! He invites you into a cabin and asks you which part of your body you want to have epilated. You hang your bathrobe on a hook and struggle out of your latex clothes. Everywhere, please, you answer. The man laughs, puts on latex gloves and says that you would certainly prefer him to wear them at work. Damn, the hard-on doesn't want to disappear. Not even when applying the hot wax. Your beautician is a master of his trade. When he oils your body after two hours of work, you can't stand it any more and shoot your load onto your chest and into your beard. I'll go and get the long hair clippers, says the beautician. And he shaves off all the hair he couldn't epilate. Except for the eyelashes, you are now smooth and shiny. And somehow it looks as if a few years and several kilograms have disappeared with your hair. A young man stands in the mirror, as if prepared for the slave market. You have to cum again. Fortunately, your beautician reacts quickly and sucks every drop out of your cock.

Putting on the latex clothes is now a piece of cake. But you've already practised this hundreds of times. Now you want to get out of the "harmless" stuff. For an evening at Dirty Dicks you should get yourself especially dressed up. You are a rubber drone with a passion. And where better to be that than in Amsterdam!

[4th-make-quail]

Happy WIP Wednesday everyone!! Here is a good chunk of my Eric/Assad fic for your zamasian pleasure, with screenshot text is under the cut~!

The fic is 5.2k total, give or take when I've done edits and got my beta back hehe

Assad was more aware of the position of his own hand than he’d ever been in his life, it felt like. The way he could feel the warmth of Eric’s thigh under his palm, the way he wasn’t moving away - god, the way he was running his fingers over Assad’s shoulder, fingertips just skimming his skin where the shirt hung off there. He shivered. That had to be on purpose. Right? Fuck it.

He squeezed Eric’s thigh, slid his fingers down the inside and squeezed again. Good thighs. Really good thighs.

“So, uh.” He felt his cheeks warm as Eric’s fingers slipped down under the seam of his shirt, caressing his shoulder then up to his neck. “Not misreading this, then.”

“No, you’re definitely not misreading.” Eric cupped his neck and stroked his jawbone with his thumb. “This is what you want, isn’t it.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Assad tossed back the rest of his glass of wine and nearly threw it onto the floor in his haste to put it down. He unfolded his leg and draped one of them over Eric’s lap, scooching in closer so that his still-folded leg pressed up against his thigh. “Is it what you want?”

“You think I’d be here doing this if it wasn’t?” Eric put his own glass down on the side table, then leaned over and wrapped one arm around Assad, slipping his hand up the back of his shirt while cupping his face with the other.

Fuck, but his hands were nice. Big and sturdy. And then Assad couldn’t possibly be thinking about hands because Eric pulled him closer and kissed him, deft and slow.

He made a startled sound into Eric’s mouth, then melted against him, glad he’d got rid of the wine glass so he could reach up and push his fingers into those lovely curls. Their tongues brushed and Assad’s eyes closed, giving himself over to sensation; soft lips and the flavour of red wine, plush mouth and the curve of a smile he could feel along with a deep chuckle.

“If I’d figured this out earlier, we could have been doing this so much sooner,” Eric drawled between kisses.

Assad laughed. “And there was me thinking I’d been pretty obvious. All those interviews and fluff pieces and I was sure you weren’t interested.”

“Mm, well now you know. What do you wanna do about it?” Eric’s hand roamed up Assad’s back, “because I can think of a few ideas.”

“Oh, I bet you can.” Assad couldn’t suppress a shiver, though, and he was suddenly too warm with a hat on, so off it went, sailing through the air behind him and leaving his hair free and not too frizzy given that the scenes earlier that day had called for the heavy oil and gel routine. “This is nice, but I think-” Assad straightened, then knelt up and swung his leg over Eric so that he was straddling his lap, “this is nicer.”

He was very suddenly aware that he was getting hard, but considering the whole… everything… he didn’t think that’d be a problem.

Both arms slotted over Eric’s shoulders and he bent to kiss his jaw, the corner of his clever, sardonic mouth.

“Yeah, definitely nicer.” Eric's hand dipped down to Assad's lower back, pushing past the elastic of his pyjama bottoms and boxers to cup his arse.

Assad's hips bucked and he moaned against Eric's neck, pressing open mouthed kisses against his skin. He smelled like aftershave and sweat and wine, a heady and distracting mix, and suddenly it wasn't enough contact, wasn't enough skin.

He sat upright and grabbed for Eric's shirt, pulling it over his head without ceremony and flinging it across the sofa in his haste to finally get his hands on Eric's body.

He was broad and sturdy, with soft tummy and a coating of softer silvered hair all across his chest and down, and Assad couldn't stop himself from touching, from smoothing both hands across his pecs and down to squeeze at his tummy.

“You are so damn hot,” he breathed, eyes wide and cheeks warm.

“Like you're one to talk, wearing this.” Eric's hands went up under Assad's shirt again, framing his waist and moving to cup his pecs too. “The amount of times I thought about you, goddamn. They really know how to dress you, that's all I'm gonna say.”

Eric leaned up and captured Assad's mouth in another kiss, then divested him of his shirt too. His hands were big enough to squeeze Assad’s pecs like tits, and he bent to suck on a nipple greedily, late night stubble prickling deliciously.

Assad's head fell forward and he pushed both hands into Eric's hair, gripping hard as he sunk teeth into his nipple, biting and licking it to ripe hardness.

“Goddamn,” Eric said against his skin, muffled, “you are so fucking hot…” Another bite and then he turned his attention to the other nipple, suckling at it hard enough to make it darken, teeth nipping hard enough to make Assad’s hips buck again, his toes curl.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Back again saw you had teen wolf in your pinned post of things you write but couldn’t see any posts of that? If you do actually write that something of your favourite character and your favourite kink (to write if that’s easier for you) would be really cool to see

Jackson Whittemore x male reader

Headcanons

Jackson was one of my awakenings back in the day, when Teen Wolf only had one season. Everyone say thank you Jackson, without him, this blog probably wouldn’t have existed.

I couldn’t narrow it down to just one kink, so this is just kind of an overall nsfw hc thing. Hope that’s still good tho.

Jackson is submissive, I don’t wanna hear it. That man turned into a lizard whose whole thing was being told what to do, he definitely likes being ordered around in the bedroom and treated like he’s lesser.

I think he is also extremely touch starved, the kind of guy to melt into your hand if you were to cradle his cheek into your palm. When you run your fingers through his hair when he’s going down on you, he purrs loudly, and his eyes almost roll back because of it.

He uses the tail, I’m sorry. He would use it to pull you close or wrap around you when he has his moments where he’s feeling bratty or dominant, or just wants your attention.

Jackson has some kind of daddy, sir, or alpha kink. Even if you aren’t a werewolf or a supernatural being, he still loves when you push him down and he can wail for his alpha into his pillows, that alpha being you of course.

Body worship, please massage him after lacrosse or just a long day. Like cover your hands in oil and give him a thorough rubdown. Pay special attention to his pecs and upper arms, really press into the muscle. It’ll leave him a whimpering whining mess.

He would try to hard to be good, to not move because you told him to stay still, but it feels so good he can’t help bucking his hips. The bed has deep claw marks afterwards from where he was gripping it.

Oral fixation, so much oral fixation. For a guy who loves to talk so much, he would most likely love to have his mouth stuffed. Because of him being part kanima, his tongue is longer and more flexible than the average person, take that as you will.

Marking kink. Wants you to bite him all over but also wants to bite you. That of course isn’t the best idea if you aren’t a supernatural being of your own, since his teeth can get pretty sharp, and he bites down pretty damn hard.

Loves when you rough him up and overpower him, it puts the beast in his chest to rest when he can feel and see just how much power you have over him. It always leaves him a writhing purring mess, his eyes flashing between blue and the kanima lizard eyes.

Has most likely had fantasies of getting your initials or even your entire name tattooed, like some kind of branding fantasy. Its that little part of his brain that wants to belong to you forever. He hasn’t gotten it done, but it doesn’t stop him from jerking off to the thought of it.

Ends up getting a necklace or maybe a bracelet or ring with your initials instead, just to curb the urge a little.

Stays at your house more than his own, and if you guys already live together that’s even better. Expect a lap full of lizard werewolf who will always want your attention.

Expect him also to walk around in very little clothes. Jackson knows he looks good and will use it to his advantage to get what he wants.

As much as Jackson loves to be roughed up and ordered around, he also has his moments where he just wants to be held and made love too instead.

He deals with a lot of insecurity, and just wants you to show him you truly do care for him and want him in your life. He will have moments where he will lay on your chest and silently cry, asking you in a small voice if you truly do love him.

This either ends up with you just comforting him and telling him that of course you love him. Or it ends up with Jackson on his back, his legs around your waist, as you make love to him, muttering all kinds of compliments and praise.

The praise gets him mushier faster than anything else, and always leaves him a gasping blabbering mess, begging for more and saying he loves you over and over.

Because of this, you are one of the few people his wolf and kanima self submits too, no questions asked. This also means that when he’s going through heat, you will be the person he comes too. Hed rather die than go to anyone else, only wanting you.

During his heats he wants you to top like always, and if you arent a werewolf yourself or something like it, you better have toys to distract him, because he will wring you so dry you will be crawling out of there.

After hes left your legs completely useless after riding you for hours though, he will cuddle against your chest and purr so loud it would vibrate the entire bed.

Hes just completely smitten and its honestly gross just how much he loves you, and how he would find a way to stop the world from turning if you asked him too.

[vizkopa]

Damned if you Do (Devil!Doflamingo x Reader) Part 3

I WAS planning on updating something else first, but this fic really has a hold on me right now and I might just be falling for Rosinante a little so hope you don't mind :P Usual warnings for NSFW stuff and religious themes. Mentions of terminal illness in this one too.

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

Part 3: Chokehold

~

It was odd to see Rosinante in a t-shirt and jeans. You had stared at him for so long, he’d had to wave his hand in front of your face before you realised he had asked you a question.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, do you want to take the bed and I’ll take the couch?”

“Oh. Don’t put yourself out just because of me. I’ll take the couch.”

“You’ll take the bed.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Dad.”

Rosi’s little one-room cottage on the property behind the church was barely bigger than your studio apartment, but it was cosy. Crocheted blankets and piles of books seemed to cover every surface, and the windowsill was overflowing with plants all in various stages of dying. You wanted nothing more than to just collapse onto the plush looking couch and sleep the afternoon away, but Rosi had piled the tiny dining table high with books on demon hierarchies and exorcisms and intended to read every single one of them in the hopes of finding a way to banish a Demon Lord.

“I’m not that much older than you, you know.”

“It’s not my fault you give off dad energy! The priest getup really doesn’t do you any favours.”

“Yes, well, that’s kind of the point of it.”

You walked to the neatly made bed and dropped your rucksack onto it, feeling a little weird about sleeping in a priest’s bed. The duvet was pink with little red hearts all over and for some reason you found that endearing.

“I’m going to order us some food. Any preferences?”

And so it was that the afternoon crawled by, Rosi absorbed in reading, you alternating between skimming whatever you could find that wasn’t in Latin, and texting Law while empty Thai takeout boxes slowly piled up in front of you.

I can’t see you for a while. These protections Rosi put on me are hardcore. He says lesser demons won’t be able to come within fifty feet of me.

I’ll be fine. Do what you need to do. Stay safe.

You sighed and scratched absently at the skin of your neck. You reeked of holy oils and incense, and would kill for a shower, but Rosi had forbidden you from doing so until it was time to renew the wards. He had also forbidden you to leave the church grounds. Not that you had anywhere else to be, but the thought alone was enough to have you feeling cooped up.

You sighed again and snapped your book shut. “How about I just kill him?”

Rosi looked up, surprised as if he’d forgotten you were even there. “Well, there’s the small problem of him possessing control over your body. Not to mention any Lord of Hell would have considerable physical strength too.”

“What if I took him by surprise?”

“He would likely possess supernatural senses as well. I doubt it would end well for you.”

You pouted and folded your arms over your chest. “It was just an idea.”

“An idea that’s likely to get you killed.”

He set the book down on the table with a sigh and rubbed his eyes. Then he surprised you by taking a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one, cracking the window to blow the smoke out into the dreary twilight air.

You raised an eyebrow.

“I’m trying to quit,” he said defensively.

“How have I known you for two whole years and never knew you were a smoker?”

“It’s not exactly a good look for a priest to show up to mass reeking of tobacco.” He offered you one.

You shook your head. “I’m good. But I wouldn’t say no to some of that nasty communion wine.”

Rosi grinned sheepishly. “I can do you one better.” He stubbed out the cigarette and opened the dining room cabinet, from which he pulled a bottle of bourbon whiskey. A very expensive bottle of bourbon whiskey.

You raised both eyebrows. “Father, you continue to surprise me.”

He poured you each a healthy measure, then clinked his glass against yours and took his seat again. The bourbon was smooth and rich and you could feel your nerves ease at the soothing notes of butterscotch and oak.

“Not bad for a Priest,” you admitted. “How old are you anyway?”

“I turned 30 last July.”

You were speechless. He was so young. Only four years your senior.

“The hell makes someone want to be a priest at your age?”

He frowned at your use of language, but otherwise said nothing for a long while. Not until he had finished his glass and poured both you and himself another did he finally speak.

“When I was a child, my older brother was possessed by a demon.”

Shock hung in the air between you. You’d had no idea. Not when you first came to him two years ago begging for help, and not in the years since had he ever mentioned anything about his history. You supposed you hadn’t really made the effort to get to know him beyond a professional relationship though. Not when you knew your time was limited.

“What happened?”

“He killed our parents. He almost killed me. A priest died trying to exorcise the demon and… my brother didn’t survive the ordeal…” His tone was clipped.

“Holy shit, Rosi… I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “I became a priest because once I knew that kind of evil was out there, destroying lives, I couldn’t just turn a blind eye.” He finished off his drink once more and lit another cigarette.

You didn’t know what to say.

“You wanna tell me what you sold your soul for?”

You winced. Honestly, you had been expecting that question for two years.

“Not particularly,” you said. “But I suppose it’s only fair.”

You reached across the table and took the cigarette from Rosi’s finger, letting yourself take one long drag to calm your racing heart before handing it back.

“I was 16 and stupid. I was in love with a boy. I mean, I thought I was in love. You know how teenagers are.” You laughed awkwardly. “We’d been best friends for years but in our sophomore year, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer.”

“Oh, [Name]…”

You could feel tears prick the corners of your eyes but you willed them away. “I was so desperate, I was willing to do anything… And when I met a man at a crossroads one night while I was walking home from the hospital, I believed him when he said he could make my wildest, deepest desire a reality. And, well..”

“Your soul for a life.”

“Yep.” You took another sip of your drink, letting it cast its welcome fog over your mind. “It worked. He lived. And at that age ten years felt like an eternity.”

“And you and your… friend?”

You shrugged. “We grew apart. He was never interested in me the same way and eventually I moved on too.” You cleared your throat loudly, banishing the last of the tears that threatened to escape. “I was young and stupid and I guess I’m just getting what I deserve now.”

You looked up at Rosi to find that his eyes had softened. “You may have done a stupid thing,” he said gently. “But you were not stupid. And you deserve to live a full and happy life just as much as that boy you saved.”

You almost teared up again at his words, but instead you just gave him a warm, genuine smile and poured yourself another drink.

Many hours and half a bottle of bourbon later, the two of you finally turned in—you, stumbling, to the bed, Rosi to the couch once more despite your insistence that you would have been fine on the couch.

You were out in moments, but when you opened your eyes, you were no longer in the priest’s little cottage, but an extravagant bed chamber, draped in burgundy velvets and silks. On the bed, was the Demon Lord.

His eyes were closed, head tilted back against the headboard, and he was… stroking himself. Languidly. As if he had nowhere else in the world to be. Your mouth suddenly dry, you scanned the room for an exit, hoping against hope you could leave before he noticed you were there (were you there? Or were you still back in the cottage?). His voice stopped you before you could even take a step.

“I’d been wondering where you’d got to,” he purred. “Have you been hiding from me, my dear?”

His eyes were open now, fixing you with a mesmerising ice blue stare. You struggled to keep your gaze level with his as that hand continued to do sinful things beneath the silk covers. “Clearly not well enough,” you said. The words did not come out as cool as you were hoping they would.

He clicked his tongue. “Found yourself a holy man, I see. How long before he sees who you truly are and leaves you like the rest?”

“And you think you know who I truly am?”

“I can see the darkness inside you, my dear. It calls to me like mine calls to you. Don’t try to deny it.” He pressed a hand to his chest and you felt your own heart lurch in response.

How easy it would be to just crawl into his bed, to let him claim you. To finally stop fighting for a soul you were sure was even worth saving. Faster than you could blink, he was before you, naked and beautiful and terrifying. He lifted a hand to cup your chin, tilting your face until his mouth only inches from yours. You felt a twist of desire deep in your gut. “We are bound, you and I. I wore a different form then, but I still remember the kiss we shared. Do you?”

You nodded. How could you forget. It had been your first kiss. A seal on the contract that damned your immortal soul.

“I have been waiting for the moment I could taste you again.”

You didn’t fight it when he lowered his lips to yours. He tasted of pomegranate and honey, intoxicating as the whiskey that still clouded your thoughts. A small voice in the back of your head told you you were dreaming, but you shoved it aside. If this was a dream, then there was no harm in indulging. Just a little.

He deepened the kiss, and you parted you lips for him, eager to taste more of that heady sweetness. His hand found your waist and tugged you against his tall, hard body, the evidence of his arousal hot and eager against your stomach. You wound your hands in his blond hair, nails scraping as you tugged him impossibly closer.

Wake up.

The voice was there again, more insistent this time. You growled and shoved it away harder. The demon seemed to be laughing at your internal battle. His other hand grazed the length of your body, from shoulder to thigh, leaving fire in its wake and fuelling the fire between your legs. Almost as if he had read your thoughts, he hoisted you into his arms and pressed your back against the velvet-draped wall.

Fuck. You could feel all of him against you, your drenched sleep shorts the only barrier between you and that impressive length. You wanted it. You wanted him. More than anything you’ve ever wanted in your life—

WAKE UP.

You gasped awake. Darkness surrounded you. Your skin burned like a fever and your nightclothes were twisted around you and drenched in sweat, but a cool pair of hands held your shoulders. For a fraction of a second, you thought you were still dreaming and the demon was holding you down, but a familiar voice gave you pause.

“[Name]!”

Rosi knelt above you, dressed in only his boxers. He sighed in relief when he noticed you were awake.

“Thank God,” he said. “You were dreaming. I couldn’t wake you.”

“I—,” you croaked, your throat dry. You swallowed and tried again. “I don’t think it was a dream. He found me.”

You couldn’t see Rosi’s face in the darkness, but he sat up on his heels, concern lacing every word. “How? I gave you every protection I knew of!”

You shook your head. “Maybe the whiskey made it easier to slip past the wards, I don’t know.”

Now that the sweat was drying on your skin, you shivered in the cool night air. Rosi almost fell off the bed in his haste to fetch you a blanket, wrapping it tightly around your shoulders. You were grateful not just for the warmth, but because you could still feel a slickness between your thighs that—though he couldn’t see it in the dark—felt indecent in the presence of a priest.

“What happened?” Rosi sat back on the edge of the bed.

“I fell asleep and suddenly I was… somewhere else. Not physically, I guess, if my body was still here. But everything felt real.”

“Did he hurt you?”

You laughed. “I assure you, Father, it was quite the opposite.” You changed the subject quickly. “He said something interesting though, before… He said he’s bound by this contract too. Maybe that means there’s a loophole somewhere, or that he can be convinced to break it somehow.”

“You think so?”

“Maybe. I don’t know..

“We’ll look into it tomorrow. We should try and get some sleep.”

“I… don’t know if I can.”

Rosi thought for a second, then rummaged in the drawer in the bedside table. As he did so, it suddenly clicked that he was very much shirtless. And… kind of jacked? You pushed the thought out of your clearly sex-addled brain as he looped something around your neck. It was a rosary.

“Wear this to sleep. If you know the Hail Mary, maybe say a few. I think it should work until we can find a better solution in the morning, okay?”

You nodded your thanks and curled up on your side, clutching the rosary to you chest. But you didn’t sleep. You couldn’t.

From Rosi’s whispered prayers in the other room, neither could he.