#i know it's really tempting to act like a jerk when you encounter a thing you don't vibe with but

[confirmed-for-trash]

some people on here make me laugh. like when people say they don't get it when folks make a playlist for banging it out. it's just like making playlists for any other mood. I made a playlist for a rainy day. why wouldn't people make a playlist for fuckin'?

[yeonniesblog]

“that escalated quickly”

Suna x fem!reader

Synopsis : you ask your childhood friend to show his pp due to a certain encounter

“Are you out of your mind?” If you didn't know suna better, you would think he is mad at you but being his friends since preschool really makes you know him more than a way you want to know.

The subtle red tone that is crawling up his neck and his burning ears, the usual no emotion facade is long gone and beneath those green slanted eyes you can tell how he trying to hide how flustered he is.

You comprehend his statement for a while in your head and if you say so yourself, you really must have lost your mind, because who in their right mind asks a friend who came to take care of you when you are sick, to show them their dick.

"Is this post breakup trauma?" Suna deadpans regarding your lack of response, standing up from your couch, while his hand moves to rub his template. He is speechless, his mind is blank, you caught him off guard he will give you that.

But how the fuck did you come in a conclusion where you want to see his dick?

Well, honestly it happened three days ago, friday noon when you accidentally entered the his room without knocking, and there was suna naked in all his glory, jerking off.

And you should have left immediately, you really should have but how could you not take a peek when his define adam's apple bobbed evidently, his head thrown back, his hair sticking to his face due to the sweat, sweat which was sliding down his collar bone towards his definite abs.

With eyes closed shut, breath heavy he looked like a true art, you know how handsome he is, everyone in your university knows really. But as your eyes scanned how his veiny long fingers were wrapped around his dick, you felt like drooling.

His dick looked tempting than the ice cream you wanted to have during your diet. because good lord, WHAT IN THE WORLD WAS THAT SIZE ???

Your ex boyfriend had a good size to himself but suna's. SUNA'S? It's not even comparable, just the average girth but who would have thought your childhood bestfriend was about 10 inches long. Okay maybe nine inches but you bet it would get bigger once he is hard.

It would have been fine if it was just long but you think it's prettier than his face, the pinkish tone covering it with a slight darken tone at the tip making it look like a cherry and AND— it had the perfect curves to reach places your fingers would never reach.

And while you were immersed in your perverted thoughts about how suna's dick was 10/10, he caught you staring at him, while he was, beating his thing. And honestly suna even knows if it was anyone else he wouldn't have freaked out that much, it was his fault jerking off without locking the door of his room after all.

But in his defense when he let out the not so shrill scream, it was because he thought people knock before they enter and good lord even if he expected to get caught never in his dream he would imagine you walking on him, his friend for years.

And you might have left being embarrassed head to toe that day and apologized through phone that evening , and after sharing few classes after that day you definitely also pretended to act normal like things didn't happen, but it would be a lie if you didn't unlock a desire to��� well to put it in simple words, fuck suna.

You were noticing small things you never noticed, like how sharp his jawline was and were his fingers always so long ? that everytime your eyes fell on them, you would think about what places it could reach.

Also, was his grayish green eyes were so seducing, objectively speaking he was always handsome according to anyone who has a good eyesight, but you swear after seeing him that way, you were dragging suna with you in that gutters where your mind lies.

Because you swear to god you are always calm and collected especially not this horny, for godsake suna came to your dorm with a warm porridge and medicine in his hand, asking how you were feeling just for you to ask.

"Can I see your dick?"

SHOULD I MAKE THIS A SERIES? Oh, BTW THE CONCEPT FOR THIS FICTION IS FROM A MANHWA SERIES CALLED “how I came to like my male friend” I just read the first few chapters and had to make something about it.

⩩ part : 2 , part - 3

[clarissalance]

Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you? 

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.) 

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!! 

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat. 

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows. 

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation. 

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent.  With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.  

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.” 

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks? 

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away. 

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said:  ‘Farewell, my comrades’. 

 For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword. 

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

 “ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone? 

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground! 

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.” 

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department. 

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you. 

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them. 

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”  

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years. 

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?  

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out. 

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed. 

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?" 

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a  few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button. 

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful. 

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?” 

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him. 

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank. 

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes. 

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture. 

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike. 

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you. 

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground. 

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes. 

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks. 

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating. 

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry. 

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch. 

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”  

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up. 

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby. 

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ”  His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.  

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent? 

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo. 

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort.  Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.  

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what? 

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you. 

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you? 

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action. 

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?  

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about. 

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day?  You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now! 

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.  

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.  

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm. 

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more. 

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist. 

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering. 

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure. 

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route. 

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack. 

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.   

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can. 

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder? 

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.  

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back. 

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.    

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively. 

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go? 

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.       

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.” 

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic. 

[pattysplaceofplaces]

may i request some more yandere mime bomb please?

Polar Opposites 

Yandere Mime Bomb x Gender Neutral Reader

Tw: Blackmail, Yanderes

[Author’s Note: You may! I appreciate the politeness.

Before we start I just wanna say that Obsessive Love Disorder is a real thing that many people are victim’s of. This writing piece is not meant to portray the disorder in a better light. Victims of this disorder are often SA’d or k()lled. 

It doesn’t matter which side you’re on, please get help. You deserve better than to be trapped in your own mind. If this is the sign someone needs here it is.

And to those who love yanderes and feel like they have be in a relationship with one to feel accepted: I hope you realize your worth because you deserve a healthy relationship with boundaries. I’m sorry if the world has told you otherwise. This is a sign to get better.]

     You were a skilled thief, you could commit a flawless crime with a thousand people watching. Despite your efforts you had one drawback: You were too kind. The faculty was starting to catch onto you. Whenever you were out on a caper Carmen struck big. It’s not like you were 100% on her side. You didn’t give her hints  or give her any intel about your next mission. The truth was you were somewhat terrified of her. You’ve seen some of your teammates end injured or almost arrested. If you didn’t see her, your mission went as planned. If she did show up, you gave her the artifact and put a dramatic front of losing. Unfortunately, you couldn’t keep this up. If VILE found out what you were doing they’d do more than just wipe your memory. Because of their suspicions VILE’s best spy and known snitch was sent on this caper with you. 

Sorry Carmen, you couldn’t risk it. If you encounter her you can’t help this time. 

“So I was thinking it would make sense if we snuck in through the left side. There’s more blindspots in the cameras and the guards don’t stay in that area for too long. What do you think?” You pointed to a specific area on the blueprint. You awaited silently for your partner’s approval. He nodded and smiled, a sigh of relief left your lips. You didn’t even realize how tense you were, he really knew how to keep you on your toes by doing well…Absolutely nothing. 

It’s not like you could be blamed for being on your guard during this mission. You were a traitor having your every move be supervised by the world’s deadliest snitch.

He was a doing a good job too, Mime Bomb was always staring at you. Like all the time. Even when you caught him he didn’t look away and just smiled. Yuck. You should have excepted Carmen’s invitation to join her a month back because now you’re here; with a clown acting as VILE’s security camera. 

You awkwardly smiled, clearing your throat as you stood up. “I think we have gone over the plan enough times. We got a few hours before we need to head out so think I’m gonna go take a nap.” Thank god the home that was rented out had two separate rooms. Otherwise you’d track Carmen down yourself, grab her by her red coat, and beg her to let you join her crew. 

Before you could make it to your room your wrist was grabbed tightly, causing you to jerk your elbow backwards out of instinct. He dodged in time but you managed to wriggle your wrist out of his grip. “I-I’m sorry but you can’t just grab people!” He was weirder than people said he was. You narrowed your eyes in focus as he started miming out a scene. It took you a while to understand what the hell he was attempting to say yet everything fell into place at the end. “How did you know?” You were tempted to grab the vase on the shelf but maybe you can talk things out first. Maybe this didn’t have to end badly. “Please I don’t know what you saw but we can talk about this peacefully..” Both of you stayed in your places. Your eyes were glued to his hands. “You won’t tell if…? Hell no! You can’t just do that!” He reached for his phone in his pocket. Dammit. You had to agree. “Fine. I’ll date you or whatever.” 

You had to find Carmen.

[little-mad]

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 6

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

Gavin was tired of being scolded and threatened. He’d been able to brush it off at first, but in the end it hadn’t taken all that long for him to lose the willpower to be insubordinate.

It wasn’t as if he was...broken or whatever. He wouldn’t describe himself as too afraid to speak altogether. He just...well he just needed a break. Trying to outmatch a giant was exhausting. Plus, Gavin was beginning to wonder whether it was really worth it. Sure it gave him some kind of sense of personal pride and satisfaction, but surely it wasn’t worth getting himself nearly pulverized by an enormous hand.

“This is such a shit storm,” Gavin moaned internally. Leave it to him to make his absolute mess of a situation somehow even worse.

As tempted as he was to glance up at Rael to try and get a read on his current mood, Gavin resisted. If he was going to be quiet, he was going to do it in the most pouty way possible. He’d act almost as if the alteon didn’t exist--which was pretty difficult considering he was literally attached to the guy, but whatever.

For about fifteen minutes the two of them went on in complete silence. Gavin’s urge to run his mouth was growing more and more intense, but he forced himself to hold his tongue. Just when he thought for sure he’d blurt something out, Rael’s walking suddenly took a sudden turn.

Gavin lifted his gaze to peer out through iron bars. He was met with the sight of what to Rael was probably no more than a stream, but to Gavin looked like a terrifying torrent of fast running water. He had never been particularly afraid of water, his parents had forced him to take swim lessons when he was eight after all. However, literal giant sized bodies of water were quite different from the chlorine filled pool at the local YMCA.

Before Gavin could argue with himself about whether or not he should ask Rael what he was doing, a pair of giant hands swooped into view. In a matter of moments, the cage was once again unhooked from Rael’s belt. “What’s happening?” The words flew out of Gavin’s mouth before he could stop them. So much for the silent treatment.

“I figured you wouldn’t like to dangle over the water while I’m getting a drink,” Rael responded. Gavin tightened his grip on the bars of his cage as his captor moved to set the thing down on a nearby rock.

Of course Gavin wasn’t going to say so to Rael, but he was grateful to not have to go anywhere near that stream. Plus, he was happy for any chance to be on solid ground and not hanging from a giant's belt.

“That can’t be all that sanitary,” Gavin thought to himself as he observed Rael sipping the stream water from a cupped hand. Although the water was probably moving fast enough for it to be considered safe, Gavin still didn’t trust water that fish could pee in.

It was at that moment that a deep rumbling caused Gavin’s cage to shudder slightly. The quakes were repetitive and had a rhythm similar to Rael’s footsteps. However, the tremors couldn’t have been caused by Rael, because he was still leaning over the creek.

A feeling of dread began to rise up in Gavin, but before he could call out to Rael, his cage was snatched up into the air. He was thrown around harshly from the movements that were somehow even sharper and more violent than Rael’s. When the tumultuous experience came to an abrupt halt, Gavin looked up to see the face of a giant stranger staring in at him.

-

While the weather was fairly pleasant, without any uncomfortable humidity, Rael had found himself feeling quite parched. Perhaps he’d dried out his throat from shouting at the human. He supposed it would serve him right for losing his temper. Either way, Rael decided a quick stop at a nearby stream to get a drink wouldn’t hurt. Gavin was still being quiet and well behaved, which continued to unsettle Rael, but at least it meant he wouldn’t kick up any kind of fuss if they stopped for a moment.

After setting the cage and its occupant aside, Rael went to scoop up some handfuls of water. The cool, clear water was quick to soothe Rael’s throat. He was in the middle of taking a nice long sip when he heard a sudden commotion coming from behind him.

He whipped around to see two alteons, a man and a woman. The woman’s skin was a touch lighter than Rael’s own. Her curly auburn hair was cut short above her shoulders, and she was dressed in makeshift armor, with a sword hanging from a sheath at her hip. The man’s skin was tan, but the lack of melanin suggested he hailed from a different region from that which they resided in. His dark brown hair was closely cropped, and he had a distinct scar underneath his right eye. However, what stood out most to Rael about the man was the fact that he was currently holding Gavin’s cage in his hand.

Rael had failed to bring a sword with him on this assignment, primarily because he hadn’t expected to need it when dealing with humans. Aside from that, the woods surrounding Ostrad were considered to be quite safe due to the relentless patrols the Emperor sent out. It was for this reason that Rael had felt fairly confident he wouldn’t have to worry about encountering any kind of brigands or ruffians. “This really isn’t my day,” he sighed internally.

Catching sight of Gavin cowering inside his cage, faced with a giant stranger whose intentions were unknown to him, Rael felt an unexpected wave of sympathy. Those tiny hazel eyes stared back at Rael in desperation, as if silently begging him to come to his aid.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” the dark haired man asked in amusement as he observed the human in his grasp. “Don’t tell me this is a real life human?”

While the man seemed unfazed by Rael’s presence, his companion didn’t appear to feel the same way. She stood a ways back, eyeing Rael nervously. Chances were, she suspected he had some kind of affiliation with the palace despite the fact that he wasn’t wearing the official Imperial emblem or colors.

“Damn, when people said they were tiny, I didn’t think they meant this tiny,” the thug mused, now holding Gavin’s cage at eye level so he could get a closer look. “I’ve seen rats bigger than this!”

While Rael didn’t have a real weapon on him, he did have a small dagger strapped to the back of his belt. Though he was itching to make a grab for it, he held back. There was a chance he could handle the situation without threat of violence. Already, the woman clearly didn’t seem eager for a fight with him.

“Excuse me, but that human is under the protection of his majesty the Emperor,” Rael stated coldly, taking a few slow steps closer to the man. He was pleased to see the smirk the brigand was wearing waver slightly as he realized exactly what he was interfering with.

“You’re a member of the Imperial Guard,” the woman surmised, speaking up for the first time.

The man glanced back at his partner briefly before returning his gaze to Rael. He had a smile on his face, but it was stiff and almost forced. He no doubt was aware that he was in a precarious situation, dealing with the Imperial Guard, but was attempting to put on a confident facade. “Ah, I guess it makes sense to only send one guard if all you’re guarding is this little thing,” he remarked.

Rael narrowed his eyes. It was obvious the man was fishing for information, trying to determine whether or not there were other soldiers lurking around. If he thought he and his partner could take Rael, then he would likely try to make off with Gavin. A human would sell for a hefty sum on the black market. Aletons would probably even pay just to catch a glimpse of a real life human.

“If you’re intending on attempting to take that human, I would suggest you rethink,” Rael said darkly. “Even if you manage to overcome me, you will soon have the entirety of the Emperor’s army pursuing you.” He wouldn’t pretend to have backup hidden somewhere in the trees, that was a bluff that could easily fall short. Instead, he would once again make fear his tool. “Once you’re caught, your punishment will undoubtedly be death.”

There was no need for Rael to lie. Within recent years, death had become less and less prevalent as a punishment with the Emperor. However, it was still utilized in extreme cases, such as treason. Knowing how cautious the Emperor was with human-alteon relations, Rael could only assume he would consider kidnapping a human to be treasonous.

Fear instantly flashed across the curly-haired woman’s face. She took a small step back, as if to distance herself from the entire situation. Meanwhile, her companion appeared to have become provoked by Rael’s words. An angry scowl replaced the sly one he had been wearing, and he was clutching Gavin’s cage in what seemed to be a possessive manner. “As if you have any right to be possessive over him,” Rael growled mentally.

“If we kill you, no one will have any idea who nabbed the little rat,” the man hissed, shaking the cage in a way that made Rael strangely furious.

-

Gavin had thought the way Rael handled him was about as bad as it could get. It really sucked being proven wrong. He didn’t know who the hell this random alteon that had grabbed him was, but he was somehow worse than Rael, which was quite the feat.

Ever since being snatched up, Gavin had no doubt developed a countless number of bruises as a result of this man’s rough treatment. It was like he didn’t even take into account that there was a living, breathing person inside. “There’s not going to be a living, breathing person inside for much longer if this doesn’t let up,” Gavin thought as he was again thrown against the bars by a violent shake from his new captor.

Rael seemed to be attempting to talk the man down, though of course he could only assume as much considering they were speaking in a language he couldn’t understand. Whatever it was was taking much too long for Gavin’s liking. He couldn’t believe he actually wanted to be back in Rael’s hands. But at this point, anything seemed better than being jerked around like some kind of toy. The lesser of two evils and all that.

As much as Gavin wanted to shout out obscenities at the alteon, he managed to bite his tongue. Rael seemed like he knew what he was doing, and Gavin didn’t want to screw it up by saying something stupid. His willpower really was being severely tested today.

Gavin heard someone shout something. The voice sounded feminine, and though he couldn’t see nor understand the alteon woman, he could hear the urgency in her voice.

Gavin’s captor, whom he had gathered was named “Kaydin”, jostled the cage. Most of what the man was saying went right over Gavin’s head, but he did catch him rubbing his fingers together in a money gesture. It was then that Gavin realized what exactly these people wanted him for. He had taken a lot of hits to his ego in the last couple hours, but being treated as merchandise to sell was really doing a number.

Why exactly alteons would spend money buying a human was beyond him. All the possibilities that flashed through his mind made him feel even more sick to his stomach than he already did thanks to Kaydin’s manhandling.

The woman shot back an angry retort, which was quickly followed by the sound of retreating footsteps that announced her departure. This left only Kaydin to face off against Rael.

Kaydin spat out more vicious words. Gavin glanced up to see sweat droplets beginning to form on the giant’s forehead. The guy knew he was in trouble.

Rael spoke up in his own language. It was still strange for Gavin to hear. Rael’s English was so good, he sometimes forgot it wasn’t his native tongue.

Gavin stared up at Kaydin’s face, trying to determine what his next move would be based on his facial expressions. He didn’t know what Rael had said, but he could only hope it had been convincing.

If it came down to it, he felt fairly confident that a trained soldier like Rael would win in a fight against this man who seemed to be the alteon equivalent of a mugger. The only problem was, Gavin wasn’t sure he’d survive being caught in the middle of a clash of giants.

[smellyfootboy]

SMELLY ENCOUNTERS WITH ETHAN PT 2

So it had been a few months after my last encounter with Ethan where he basically made me his foot bitch. I had moven on and taken It for what it was. A one night fantasy come true because he was drunk. I still jerk off frequently thinking about that night. The whole thing still feels like a dream.

I hadn't really seen him much since then and I hoped It wasn't because he would feel awkward after what had happened. Honestly I question if he had even remembered with his intoxication.

But that day, he texted me out of nowhere:

ETHAN: Hey man. Wassup.

ME: not much hbu?

ETHAN: It's been a while... what are you up to?

ME: just playing PS5... I was able to snag the last one at target.

ETHAN: The fuck dude... and you weren't going to ask me to come play? I wanna try it out to see if it worth it before I get one.

ME: I mean, you are welcome to join me. Sleepover video game party? Haha

ETHAN: Fuck ya! I'll be over in about an hour.

I got butterflies in my stomach. Video game sleepover???? Was he gonna make me his bitch again? I was getting hard just thinking about it. I quickly picked up my apartment a bit. I was tempted to pick up some booze to hopefully recreate the last time but decided against it. It would look too desperate.

Some time past and Ethan arrived. He looked as hot as ever. I noticed myself acting a little nervous around him. I looked down at his shoes and they were a pretty beat up pair of Globes. Different from the converse he wore last time. He typically always wore skate shoes.

"Hey man how you been? I brought some snacks. " Ethan said as he brought them over to the counter.

"Cool thanks! Yeah I don't think we've seen each other since um... new years ?" I said awkwardly.

"Ha. New years that was a fun night... so show me this ps 5 you lucky bastard." Ethan said.

Fun night. Ugh. I just want to talk about it. And make it happen again.

We went to the couch and I handed him a controller. We played for a good hour.

"This is pretty sweet. I think i might have to get one." Ethan said.

"Yeah ... so what did you do all day?" I asked

"A lot of running around. Went and worked out a bit at the gym. Got pretty sweaty. And then came here" Ethan said.

"Not even a shower first? Is that what that smell is " I asked.

"Bitch you know you love it." Ethan said as he shoved my head into his armpit which was definaly strong. I resisted and pulled away.

We went back to playing games for a bit and somehow I ended up sitting on the floor leaning against the front of the couch while Ethan was still on the couch. At some point we switched from video games to watching a movie and I feel asleep on the floor.

I woke up to Ethan whispering my name.

"Guess he's sleeping. Fair game." I heard him say under his breath. His big shoes were hovering inches above my face. His feet had to be size 11 at least. He then removed both of his shoes and looked down at me. I shut my eyes quick to pretend I was still sleeping. The smell hit me like a ton of bricks. When I heard Ethan lean back I opened my eyes again. His big smelly feet right above my face. Not only that but this time the red, white, and black socks he was wearing had a bunch of holes in them like they were years old. The smell seemed almost stronger than the last time I had an experience with him. It was so overpowering. He lowered his feet a little more so my nose was right in his toes. His big toe poked out of one of the holes which I honestly found pretty hot. I couldn't belive this was happening again. How long should i pretend to be sleeping? I didn't want to move. I continued sniffing them trying not to inhale too deeply so he'd know I was awake. He suddenly took his big exposed toe and pried it in between my lips. I could feel it rubbing my teeth. And while he did this, his other foot remained hugging my nose. I heard him unzip his pants. I had no idea what he was planning.

"You awake yet?" Ethan asked. I didnt know what to do. But I guess it was time. I pretended to wake up.

"Huh wha..." I pulled his toe out of my mouth

"What are you doing! Ew not again" I yelled pretending I hated it.

"Excuse me! Did I say you could do that?" Ethan said sternly. He slapped my face with his stinky foot and I layed back down.

"Remember when we were young? At sleepovers, anyone that falls asleep first would get hazed." Ethan said. He was determined to make me his bitch again. Who was I to stand in his way? He reached down and pulled his socks off and leaned back again. His big rank feet centimeters from my face.

"After my work out, and wearing these socks for a couple days, I could use a good cleaning. Stick your tongue out" Ethan demanded. I obliged. What immediately followed was Ethans big foot sliding across my tongue. I could taste the workout and the days old socks with every lick. Ethan kept doing this and then started on the toes, sliding my tongue between each one. I could feel the sock lint on my tongue. After what seemed like forever, Ethan switched to the other foot and it was the whole process all over again. My tongue was so dry and so smelly.

After about 20 minutes of vigorous torture to my tongue Ethan took his feet off of me.

"Good boy. Now re-lubricate that tongue." He said. I pulled my tongue back in my mouth and all I could taste was Ethans feet. Once I gained enough saliva, I swallowed and could feel the dirt and grime go all the way down. It took me a minute to catch my breath. I started to get back up.

"Nope." Ethan said as he pushed me forcefully back to the ground.

I was confused... his feet were clean, what was coming next?

Suddenly I could see Ethan's huge balls coming down from above me. He layed them over my nose and they smelled phenomenal. Like they had been excessively sweating all day long.

"Tongue out" he said. Once again I obliged.

His huge nuts started to slide across my tongue. I could feel the stubble on his balls, but they were mostly smooth. He was stroking his large uncut cock while he did this. This was way further than we got the last time we hung out. Ethan suddenly used his hands and stuffed his huge nuts into my mouth. I had to open very wide for them. I could barely breathe. His balls were gagging me and his sweaty taint was over my nose. As he would jerk off I could feel his precum dripping down my chin. I was so turned on.

"Yeah clean off those balls good like you did my feet." Ethan said.

I could feel Ethan reaching climax as I swirled my tongue around his balls. I watched him reach over and grab one of his stinky holey socks, and put it over his cock. I watched him cum in ecstacy while my mouth was stuffed with nuts. He pulled his cum filled sock off his dick and pulled his balls out of my mouth and sat back up on the couch.

"Whew. So yeah. You can expect that when you fall asleep first. " Ethan said laughing. He went back to playing video games and I didn't even know what to do. I started to get up and I was about to grab the other controller to play with him and he grabbed my hand.

"Nah you aren't done yet." He said. He took his cum filled stinky cock and stuffed it in my mouth.

"Chew on that for a while and tell me when it's clean." Ethan said.

So i watched Ethan play video games over the next half hour while sucking on this cum filled filthy sock. This was probably the best night of my life, even better than the first time. I couldnt wait to see what would happen next time we hung out.

[vasiktomis]

Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

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“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

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The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

[boom-fanfic-a-latta]

https://boom-fanfic-a-latta.tumblr.com/post/674096604578480128/well-this-comparison-certainly-got-even-more

Okay, now I'm just imagining a Miraculous AU, were like, after Emilia disappeared Gabriel wasn't planning to go down the Hawkmoth route because he still had his son. Basically Good Dad Gabriel but tragic. Like, he was even giving both of them time off to hang out and talk because he doesn't want to lose his connection with his son. He was still doing research on how to save Emilia, but he wasn't tempted by the power of the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses just yet.

Then Audrey did SOMETHING that caused Adrien to disappear from the face of the earth when Adrien had to do something in a different country and all his standard adult gaurdians were to busy to come with. Probably because she felt as if he wasn't "exceptional" for, you know, mourning his mom. Because she's a bitch. Gabriel is pissed, her husband has her investigated and learned about how terrible of a person she is, and she has a restraining order slapped on her to keep her away from him, Gabriel, and Chloé. It would extend to Adrien when found.

He isn't found because Adrien ended up getting amnesia because the kid encountered something magic and really aside from Fu from the looks of things most of those born into magic are fucking jerks who care not for standard morals. Luckily Ayla's family found him, and through his really scrambled memories decided to call him Rie for the time being, and with the authorities permission take him in as long as they help search for hia birth family. And before you ask, those magic jerks probably did something to the kid to temporarily make no one able to recognize him. It would last for like, two or three months, bur growth spurts can definitely affect how people recognize you.

Anyways Gabriel went firmly off the deep end and is planning to grab the two Miraculouses to save both his wife and son, and Master Fu, upon seeing that this kid has magic induced amnesia and is a good kid so ideal candidate for said Miraculous so why not give the kid the Black Cat Miraculous in hopes either the Kwami would actively chip away at said amnesia or do so accidentally through sheer exposure.

Chloé is not a bully because hearing what your mother did to your best friend will ensure you avoid acting like her at all costs, Adrien probably hangs out with her because of the familiarity, Marinette slowly falls for him the slow burn route, and Ayla isn't just going to toss Adrien at her because she's been seeing him as her brother for awhile now.

Oh boy this is a really cool take I love it

[trials-by-blood]

Male with Gender Neutral S/O. S/O is protective over their Yautja. One day, on the mothership, a female gets interested in the male. S/O firmly shows the male is theirs. Male is very impressed by their antics. (If possible, make it naughty ish. Like pulling on Yautja tresses. I apologize if that makes you uncomfortable. I don’t know what you’re rules are.)

Okay so, It’s done! Like another prompt, I decided I should consciously try to be concise and cap it off before going over 2500 words or else it could go on and on. Unfortunately, this couldn’t be naughty because I’ve made the decision to keep this blog at a PG-13 rating. I wound up RBing my original post (The one announcing open asks) with a loose outline of my rules after receiving this very ask. Yeah, I kinda had that “Uh-oh, I forgot the most important step” moment. 

This one sort of ran in a few unexpected and at times turbulent directions. I hope you enjoy this reply although it veered a little off course.

-Ghardeh-

The ooman was always a pain. Ghardeh called them H’ko. It was literally the word for no. Why did Ghardeh call the ooman this? Because it was the first word in Ghardeh’s language that they had learned and one they loved to use. No, no, no. “No” to proper clothing in the current yaut fashions, “No” to any food item they found suspicious, “No” to bathwater heated too hot, “No” to sleeping in the kehrite as unblooded should, “No” to observing Ghardeh’s hunts via a live stream transmitted from the eye lenses of his helm because they did not like the idea of possibly witnessing their companion’s death in real-time. A definite “NO” to learning to hunt as well. They didn’t have any interest in hunting to prove themselves. 

H’ko, H’ko, H’ko. Ghardeh had heard the word in that terrible accent so many times he’d begun mockingly repeating it back to the ooman out of frustration, eventually, it became their pet-name, and later it became a term of endearment. Ghardeh had long given up on the notion that H’ko would ever become a warrior, but that was fine, the ooman was proficient in mechanics and electrical work and it was a respectable profession for an ooman.

Bound for the Clan ship, Ghardeh did not worry much about the ooman’s safety. His clan worked with oomans regularly and in H’ko’s case, as they weren’t a warrior and wore typical ooman dressings, the people would regard them with the same scrutiny as the unblooded: well beneath the gaze of warriors. And yautja women? Well, they ignored their male counterparts ninety percent of the time too, doubtful they’d even register H’ko’s presence at all. Other yautja should simply pretend H’ko didn’t exist as they tagged along safe and sound under Ghardeh’s left arm, and if anyone spared them a second glance it would likely be assumed that H’ko’s role was that of a hired repairer and no more.

Ghardeh had prepped H’ko very sternly and more than once for this visit. Speak to no one above their rank. Do not make prolonged eye contact as it is seen as a challenge. The breeding season is near so if a female propositions, allow Ghardeh to decline and do not intercede. That last instruction was very important. 

Ghardeh had known that humans were often monogamous, and when asked H’ko confirmed that they would prefer not to share Ghardeh’s romantic attention with others. This was one of the many compromises in their unusual partnership. Ghardeh would sleep and engage in sex acts with H’ko and only H’ko, but they had agreed to allow Ghardeh to donate reproductive material non-sexually to females if it was asked of him. Ghardeh had to explain to the ooman: if you are a strong warrior and a fine hunter, it is your duty to contribute your traits to the next generation. They had accepted that aspect of yautja culture begrudgingly, taking a long time to think through and voice all concerns about it just as Ghardeh had done as well when it became apparent that his ooman companion did not enjoy the notion of their mate being dragged to a stranger’s bed chambers if a proposition was accepted. The ordeal of Yaut mating practices also seemed to upset them. A female will usually test a warrior to be absolutely certain that she’d chosen a sire well. This often involves dangerous feats or enduring a physical altercation. H’ko had been unhappy with the very common occurrence of males limping their way home after a failed encounter with a choosy woman.

Ghardeh was merely reviewing all of this information in his head whilst he lied on his back and massaged at the stress crease in his forehead with his knuckles. Tucked against his left side and in the crook of his arm was H’ko, snoring and blissfully unaware of Ghardeh’s anxiety. H’ko would be relatively safe for sure, but something always went wrong when he tried to bring them aboard the Clan Ship. Last time, H’ko accidentally got dragged off with another group of oomans after being mistaken for a member of an ambassadorial tour group. None of the actual ambassadors had the gall to inform their extraordinarily intimidating guide that H’ko was just some random person who was grabbed, scolded for wandering off -which they had, but not from that group-, and herded along with the rest of the soft little aliens. Ghardeh was tempted to tether H’ko to his own body this time, so they couldn’t move more than ten feet from him.

Ghardeh sat up and scrubbed a knuckle against his closed eyes as he prepared to leave the bed, then let a hand fall on H’ko’s shoulder to gently shake them awake. It was time to dress, eat, and prepare. 

Docking went smoothly, and disembarking was uneventful as well. They were greeted by Chulonte, a friend and hunt brother who knew H’ko well and even dipped his head slightly to acknowledge their presence.

“The meeting place has been reserved, we should go now, the others have already gathered,” Chulonte told them briskly before turning away and leading them on.

Ghardeh leaned toward H’ko and dropped a hand on their shoulder. “We’ll acquire a midday meal after the meeting, just the two of us.”

Ghardeh was pleased when H’ko gave him an earnest closed-mouth grin. H’ko liked when they ate alone yet in public. Called them “dates”. 

-Taylor-

Ghardeh was in the meeting with his equals, a loose coalition of hunters each with their own private hunting vessels who always coordinated with one another so that their time hunting on various worlds did not overlap. Apparently, there were laws in place to prevent over-hunting on some planets and to avoid over-exposure on others. Taylor was told to wait outside with Chulonte’s hounds. They were big ugly scaly beasts. One had a face like a cross between an English Bulldog and a cod, the other was nothing but a fangy maw of teeth and horny protuberances growing from its back but they were rather friendly, at least toward Taylor. Taylor wasn’t completely fluent in the Yautja dialects but it had seemed that, as a favor to Ghardeh, Chulonte had given his hunting hounds a command to guard the tiny human among them. The animals hovered close to where the human sat and would stand from their seated positions if any passerby veered too close. Taylor chanced a hand at petting them, Bulldog Face kept dropping his enormous head into the human’s lap for more attention, Spikey Back wasn’t into it and lied down just out of reach.

A group of women began to form nearby, but not too close, as Spikey Back had stood and shown the lot of them his teeth when they tried to form a cluster too near to where Taylor sat waiting for Ghardeh. Taylor could hear this and that which was said among the women. Some of the discussion was pretty damn raunchy. They were here to find action and had planned to greet the hunters when they conclude their meeting and disperse. They said things about what they wanted to do to the hunters they had chosen, sometimes what tests of strength and resilience they were expected to endure, but more often the discussions leaned heavily into overtly explicit themes. The woman who wanted Chulonte wanted to see if he could track by scent as accurately as his hounds could and if he succeeded in this test she would, and Taylor could only partially decipher the phrase, “??? him so ??? that his spine comes undone from his pelvis”. It made Taylor’s skin crawl, especially when all of the women laughed approvingly at what the other had said. Taylor hoped it was a lesser evil in being just a filthy joke but given how tall and strong they appeared, and how dangerous Ghardeh had told Talyor they were, they wondered if they really could injure their partners in such a way. It certainly seemed possible.

Taylor felt tension building in their chest. They heard them name off nearly all the hunters they’d seen enter the meeting room and every brutal ordeal they wished to subject them to, and it was only a matter of time before Taylor heard Ghardeh’s name. It happened, and when it did, the human’s pet name was mentioned as well. 

“Ghardeh is a difficult one to persuade, too difficult to bother with up until now. He now has rank advancements, clearly enough to afford him a live trophy. That’s worth some regard, but how to get rid of H’ko long enough to have adequate time with the man?”

“Seems like Chulonte’s dogs make fine enough guardians for it. Let us coordinate our liaisons then-”

Taylor couldn’t keep their mouth shut. They’d been infuriated by three ugly words. Live Trophy and, It.

“I am NOT a Live Trophy! And Ghardeh is NOT available for your abuse!” They shouted, causing both of the hounds to jerk to attention and search for a threat to their charge.

-Ghardeh-

Ghardeh had correctly predicted that the meeting would go very much as it had in all of the previous seasons, a few smooth agreements, a few disputes, a fight or two, and then they’d leave and continue about their personal business. He left that meeting room with lunch on his mind and the expectation that H’ko would be clamoring for a meal as well, he had not anticipated being met with the sight of them dangling from the grip of Dar-bak’di, the most fearsome of the local young women who roved in a pack during the breeding season. H’ko was kicking and gasping for air as they flailed in her grip, Chul’s hounds were being bribed into complicity by the other women offering them whatever morsels they had in their bags, and Dar-bak’di was making a show of how easily she could destroy a mere ooman. Now it was Ghardeh shouting H’ko! H’ko!

It took a great deal of convincing to get Dar-bak’di to release H’ko, and the limit of her mercy was to drop the gasping ooman on top of Ghardeh and call them both abominable, in addition to accusing Ghardeh of something akin to bestiality. Dar’bak-di had smelt Ghardeh’s amorous n'dui'se all over his ooman companion and she refused to believe it when she was told that H’ko was a legally hired mechanic. To perform mating practices with species classified as prey was frowned upon, but not against any written law. The truth of the matter was, H’ko was unbelievably lucky to survive the encounter and had, hopefully, learned something from it. 

-

The ooman did not argue or make a fuss on the way home, and whether they liked it or not they were carried. The bruising around their neck was already blooming into hot red blotches. Ghardeh said nothing of it but make no mistake, he was furious. He’d told H’ko in no ambiguous words not to engage in conversation much less an altercation with yautja women! And what did they do, start a fight they could never under any circumstances survive on their own.

Upon his Vessel, Ghardeh placed H’ko in bed and with the intention of letting them sleep the ordeal off. After leaving the room, he went to the galley to serve himself a drink before grabbing the kit to treat severe bruising, but heard the soft soles of H’ko’s feet padding behind him.

“Go back to the bed and rest,” Ghardeh told the ooman flatly without turning to look at them as he poured a glass of c’ntlip.

“They were saying terrible things,”

Ghardeh sighed and set aside the decanter before taking the first sip and responding.

“They’re lonely and horny, of course they were speaking in lewdisms. I warned you that they would speak this way about whatever they set their longing eyes upon.”

“But it was about you and-”

“I don’t care what was said about me! You disobeyed the most important instruction I have ever given you! You could have been rent to pieces! You directly challenged an individual no less than twice your height and perhaps four times your weight! Worse still, she was legally in the right to throw you through a wall if she wanted to!”

“She called me a Live Trophy!” H’ko shouted through a snarl.

The tone immediately triggered Ghardeh’s expression to twist and eyes to darken as he postured for a fight -albiet only a verbal one- but the words gave him a reason to pause as he processed what was said. Live Trophy, it was nothing else but a slur, and H’ko’s anger was justified. H’ko tended to show a fear response with tears and soft whines when they were angered, though, which Ghardeh was always bewildered by. A show of anger more familiar to Ghardeh had come first this time, perhaps because his own mannerisms had begun to rub off on the ooman, so a second pause was taken to scrutinize H’ko’s face. Ah, the grimace and tears were building behind the facade. Ghardeh deflated.

“She called you a Live Trophy?” he asked, softly this time as not to elevate H’ko’s anger further.

It was too late to abate the ooman’s upset. Fat droplets ran down their rounded face and they stopped making their oh-so-important eye contact as they nodded to confirm that, yes, they’d been called a live trophy.

Ghardeh moved in to close the distance between them in two strides before dropping both hands on his ooman mate’s shoulders with a great sigh. 

“We will treat the bruising on your neck, then we will prepare a meal on our ship, then we should talk about what happened.” 

H’ko did that typical human thing by saying nothing and gripping the yautja around the waist in an embrace. Ghardeh tried the rumble affectionately, but frankly, he was now furious beyond belief for all new reasons. Live Trophy. Had he known such a term had been thrown at his companion, he’d have been inclined to challenge her too.

“You were brave Tay-Lar, for defending your honor.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Ghardeh said with a genuine growl of approval this time, stroking the back of his companion’s round head.

[anika-ann]

The Best Mistake of My Life - Pt.1

Type: One-shot/ch1 of a series

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 4100

Summary: A soulmate AU. They say having a soulmate is a blessing. Who wouldn’t love the idea of star-crossed lovers, right?

Neither Steve Rogers nor you consider yourself lucky though. It probably has something to do with the lines written on your skin. Because if the words are anything to go by, you’re not sure you want to meet each other.

Warnings: swearing, light angst, FLUFF 

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Steve Rogers was born a sickly baby.

Born a sickly boy to a single mother in the time of great depression, money thin, his health even thinner and having a pathetic number of friends; though that never really bothered him. What his friendships lacked in quantity was hundred times compensated by quality. Bucky Barnes’ loyalty was everything Steve could ask for.

And what Steven Grant Rogers himself lacked in height and strength of body was made up for by the strength of will, amount of determination and a great compassionate heart, ready to welcome anyone sans bullies there.

Perhaps God had seen that Steven would grow into a man carrying his heart on his sleeve and decided that this man should be blessed with a love so magnificent they would tell stories about it; people always had. People were always telling tales about soulmates.

Having a soulmate wasn’t necessarily rare, but not everyone was bound to have one. Being one of the lucky ones was an amazing gift; a promise of a connection as unbreakable as the thread of fate, a promise of an unconditional love.

To know person had found the one, their soulmate, those who were blessed with one wore a brand on their skin, a clue to allow them to recognize their destined partner; a set of words.

It was the set of words what was troubling Steve Rogers the most. Despite Bucky’s reassurance, despite his mother’s last words, despite Steve willingness to fight everything else the world would kick into his way, he found moments in his life he cursed the words written on his skin, reminding him how weak he would always seem to people.

Above the visible line of his collarbone, sticking out on his rather skeletal frame, there sat the words of doom:

‘Oh no, there must be a mistake.’

The very first time his soulmate would spoke to him… they would be disappointed and silently praying that whatever force was behind bounding souls together made one hell of a misstep. A mistake.

That was what Steve was going to be to his soulmate; a mistake. A failure. A disappointment.

And why wouldn’t he be? Ninety pounds of rattling bones, list of illnesses longer than his birth certificate…. Every girl Bucky had ever tried to set him up with out of pity (which Bucky would deny until his last breath) had been disappointed.

“Maybe she’ll be more into brunettes. Maybe she won’t believe her soulmate is blond at first,” his friend would say, “or she’ll be from Queens and wouldn’t get over the fact you’re not, but once you’ll show her the true Brooklyn charm, she’ll fall to your feet.”

Then he would always pat Steve’s shoulder, pulling him into a one-arm hug and tried to get him a date once more.

Steve didn’t believe him. He never did, but recognizing his friend felt better if Steve played along, he would smile and poke his ribs in return.

“Whatever you say. Jerk.”

…

Much later, when he said to Peggy Carter that he was waiting for the right partner to dance with, he was starting to admit to himself that he wasn’t thinking about his so-called soulmate as the one. After all, he went against all odds, against rules, against destiny itself when he had been accepted to the army regardless of his fragile body. Maybe, just maybe it meant that not ending up with his soulmate was what would happen one day.

When he crushed the Valkyrie to the ocean, not even having taken a chance on Peggy Carter despite her obvious interest, he must admit he had been lying to himself.

His last realization concerned his soulmate; despite wanting to fight against the whole world, he couldn’t make himself to take a chance on Peggy Carter, a brilliant woman who was not carrying the right set of words.

His last regret was that he would never meet his true love.

His last thought was that maybe, his soulmate never had a set of words spoken by him on her skin – her first words to him might as well be the ones spoken when reading his obituary, somehow knowing he was supposed to belong with her.

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The moment you were old enough to understand the meaning of the word ‘soulmate’, you were intrigued by the concept; it probably had everything to do with the fact that you too were supposed to have a person meant to be your other half.

Every parent was bound to be delighted when their child was born with that kind of blessing, but the older you were getting, the more you understood what kind of a shock might occur when a kid had rather strange line supposedly spoken to them by their universe-chosen partner for life.

There were people who had words like ‘shit’ on them; literally. Not very delightful. Sometimes there were general lines like ‘Hello, how are you?”. Good luck hunting down the right person. In contrary, some people had a name on them; ‘Hi, I’m Peter Cameron.’ Lucky bastards.

And then… then there were people like you, whose words were just… weird.  

“But I really am 95,” you mumbled under your breath, tracing the handwriting right under your collarbone subconsciously, the first thing you did in the morning if you remembered – which wasn’t every day, not by a long shot.

“This is the stupidest thing ever…”

You shook your head and started to get ready for your day at the office.

Your opinion on your soulmark had been changing during the years. You had had a period of fascination, simply being proud of carrying it. Then you had understood the meaning of your words, and you had been horrified and desperate at the idea of meeting your soulmate at such age or worse, having one that old while you would be thirty or something when encountering them.

Then had come the phase of how could I avoid having a grandpa as my soulmate. Maybe the number meant something different – your soulmate’s weight (you really wouldn’t care for that, you reasoned), his temperature (he might be hypothermic at the moment, no?), his hotel room number, the number of a seat in a theatre perhaps… there were so many possibilities, right?

Now, you just tried not to think about it too hard. You had had boyfriends, never lasting longer than few months sans the one exception of George, who had turned out to be the biggest asshole in the world despite your belief he had might have been the one; until you had caught him in bed with another girl.

Maybe it was that deep inside you had never believed in the relationships you had, because the guy never said the right first words. Or maybe you were full of shit and you couldn’t keep a guy interested, god only knew – hence not thinking about it too hard, going on with your life and taking it as it was.

You might meet him, you might not. It wouldn’t be the first case of never encountering a soulmate. Life was funny that way.

Best not to let it ruin your day. A rather nice day it was, today. If you only didn’t have to spend it in the crowded office with people demanding their licences and taking out their frustrations on you. Well. You were a grown-up; you had to be okay with things not always being okay. Which sucked. But that was life.

…

You had a chance to have a shortest coffee break to exchange ‘hello’s with Ryan – your actual favourite person in the world, your platonic ‘soulmate’ (not in the ominous sense of the word), your boss who never really acted like a boss – and that was it. Apparently, half of Manhattan had gotten their licence this very date years back, so the office was ridiculously crowded. Thank god for the glass between you and the jungle; it shielded you at least partly.

You grabbed the file of request no. 57 that day – you were like a machine, okay, you couldn’t remember the office ever managing to deal with so many in only three hours – pulling out the documents and the licence to make another driver happy.

Your hands were acting on autopilot and you didn’t even glance up when an ID was pushed to you through the small space between the glass and the counter, checking the renewed licence first.

Your first thought was ‘oh wow’. That guy on the photo was gorgeous. You couldn’t help but snap your head up, checking out the real-life thing.

OH WOW.

Scratch the ‘gorgeous’. Replace it with ‘unreal’.

You were tempted to ask if he was made by an ancient sculptor and then brought to life, because his body was as incredible as his face; the broadness of his shoulders begged for a touch. His muscular arms were not so hidden in the sleeves of his dark green shirt. The shoulder-waist ratio was clearly a God’s mistake, a one you were thankful for.

Forget ancient sculptures. His face must have been sculptures by angels and they left him with a halo of blond hair as a reminder. And his eyes. Oh god, such pretty eyes…

He gave you an unsure smile, opening his mouth to probably accuse you of staring and you quickly dropped your gaze, returning to check the licence before you would give it to him.  

Your hand froze hovering above the date of birth. You hesitantly looked up again, biting your lip guiltily despite not being the one who had messed up. You felt kinda sorry for him waiting the line for nothing.

“Oh no, there must be a mistake…” you half apologized, half said only to yourself, meeting his suddenly alarmed gaze.

You put on your most apologetic face, hoping he wouldn’t be too mad. How had someone messed it up again? The birth dates were with typos all the time. How?! There were only numbers for God’s sake! It wasn’t like the person inserting the data to the computer had to spell Buchwald or Mxyzptlk or something like that!

Damn you, Sheryl or Kira or you whoever have done this!

The man – Steven Grant Rogers, as you had learned from his sadly valueless driving licence – was staring at you, speechless. You were honestly getting worried, though you weren’t sure if you were more scared for him or for yourself in case of his reaction escalating.

So you went to explain.

“Uhm… I’m really sorry, mister-“ You quickly eyed the name ID he had given you, checking if the office got the name right at least. “-Rogers, but there seems to be a typo in… in your birth date. I apologize for the mistake our institution made, even though I wasn’t the one to-- you don’t need to know that, it doesn’t matter-- I’m so sorry you have to come here again, but I can’t really let you walk around or rather drive around with a licence claiming you were born in 1918, so…”

You had become so flustered, your cheeks burning, talking and talking without being able to stop, not making any sense even, until-

“But I really am 95,” he admitted sheepishly and you wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement, when something in your brain clicked.

The click was about as loud as an atomic bomb falling on Hiroshima. You were sure everyone had to hear it.

It shut you up immediately. Your whole body froze, your mind buzzing uselessly, not a single thought staying long enough for you to actually understand it. Until two words got stuck, shining in red letters like a neon sign in your brain.

Holy. Shit.

“Excuse me,” you squeaked, grabbing his useless licence and mechanically rising from your seat, walking away.

The moment no one could see you as you got into a hallway, you broke into a run. You acted on instinct. You ran and you ended up in front of Ryan’s office, stumbling in without knocking and without an atom of oxygen left in your lungs.

Ryan’s neatly combed hair swayed as he snapped his head to the door, his eyes strict until they took the newcomer – hint: you – in, widening instantly.

He quickly jumped to his feet, pacing to you.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, voice filled with worries.

You weren’t able to answer, because—holy shit. Your eyes frantically scanned the room, unable to meet your friend’s gaze. “I-- I-“

A hand landed on your shoulder, your eyes immediately falling on it on instinct. Shit, you couldn’t breathe. Could you?

Ryan’s free hand found you chin, tilting your head so you faced him. “Hey, baby, look at me! What happened? Was someone too much of an asshole to you?”

“I’m not-- he’s-“

Ryan’s face screamed concern, but he had fixed it in a second, soothing smile on his lips. He led you to his sofa, the calming blue cushions enveloping you.

“Sit down on your ass and gimme that,” he maneuverer the document off the steely grip of your fingers, sitting next to you as he looked it over. “Huh, quite a looker this guy. So what did he do?“

“I—the- the licence says he was born in---in 1918,” you stammered, finally able to breathe in properly and speak.

Ryan squinted at the date and then rolled his eyes.

“Oh jeez, again? Why is it so hard to just get it right? I swear I’m gonna have to fire Sheryl, she’s a disaster. What’s wrong with her? It’s not like they would be making a licence for someone that old! There’s a photo goddammit!”

“Ry-Ry… he said he was 95.”

Another eye-roll was his answer. “Yeah, I can count. He would have been if he was born in 1918 instead of 1981.”

“No, you don’t-“ you licked your lips and swallowed against the lump that grew in your throat. Your voice was as shake as your hands. “He just told me that. That he really was 95.”

Your friend observed you silently for a beat, not following. And then realization hit him like a train.

“Oh. OH. No shit?!”

It was your turn to stare silently, your mind loud enough to make noise and fill the space of Ryan office.

“Damn, does he really look like that? Lucky bitch!”

“Ryan!” you yelped in surprise when his fist bumped your shoulder, almost knocking you off balance.

It worked though. It grounded you and threw you back to reality. You tried your best to calm your breathing, but damn. This guy… he was your soulmate. You just met your soulmate. And he wasn’t a grandpa. He didn’t weight 95 pounds either. You weren’t in a hotel, neither in a theatre.

No. The number was only about one tiny mistake— oh, ohhh shit, what was the first thing you had said to him? Oh fuck. Way to go, girl!

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked rubbing the spot he had punched.

“No!” you shot back immediately, your mind racing.

“You know what I mean. You look better now. Though I gotta say, so is he. His face really is quite easy on the eyes. How about the rest of him?”

Ry-Ry, your bi-side is showing.

You chuckled at the easy talk, the tension from your shoulders falling a bit.

“Well… yeah, he’s like a model. So out of my league…” you muttered, remembering your ogling. This guy was your soulmate? Wasn’t it a mistake?

Ryan was suspiciously quiet; normally you would expect him to scold you for selling yourself short. Instead, he was staring at the licence, his lips parted in silent shock.

What now?

“What?” you demanded, following his line of gaze.

Ryan just chuckled, the incredulous sound ringing, echoing in the quiet space. “Girl, I hate to break it to you, but I might not fire Sheryl just yet.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Remember that one time aliens were falling from the sky?”

You blinked in surprise at that question, not following his train of thoughts. “Uhm… yeah? Pretty hard to forget that…?”

You were lucky you hadn’t been smashed under a building that day. Many people in Manhattan were, some sadly not. So yeah, you remembered.

“You remember the waitress from the café talking after the incident?”

“Oh my god, Ry-Ry, just spill it! I’m not following!”

Your friend huffed in exasperation, shoving the licence in your face, his finger on the name.

Steven Grant Rogers. Yeah, you could read too.

“That name should ring a bell, you dumbass! Would you say that this guy is handsome enough to be Captain America?” he hissed, making your heart stop.

Oh. Oh shit.

OH SHIT.

Your brain short-circuited.

“Oh my god. He really is 95,” you breathed out, your brain somehow choosing the least logical reaction to this whole revelation.

Ryan laughed. “Ding-ding, we have a winner! Holy crap, baby, I think you just got yourself a superhero soulmate!”

And just like that, you started panicking again. You gulped, watching the driving licence as if it could blow up.

“Shit, Ry-Ry! What do I do?” you whispered, desperation soaking through. What were you supposed to do upon that revelation? Captain America was your freaking soulmate!

Ryan smiled at you reassuringly, patting your cheek. “Not coming back to your spot behind the counter today, that’s for sure.”

“But-“

“I’m going in. I think this place won’t blow up if I fill in for once. I sure hope I remember the process, though I’m probably not gonna be as efficient as you are.”

You didn’t know what to say. Hell, you didn’t know what to do! But yeah, not coming back to the jungle sounded good, especially given your frantic escape.

“You really would do that?” you asked hesitantly and Ryan just rolled his eyes. “But… Ryan, what the hell do I do?!”

Your bestie gave you a lopsided smile and a wink, patting your cheek patronizingly once more before heading to take over your workplace.

“Whatever you want, baby. Whatever you want.”

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While you were having your own freak-out, Steve was standing at the counter, dumb-struck.

He couldn’t believe it. You had actually said those words. And judging by your reaction to his own, he must have said yours. Which… yeah, congratulation, Rogers, you had given your Universe-chosen dame an amazing note on her skin. To be fair, so had she.

Incredible.

Impossible.

His soulmate was in this century. In this millennia. That was what he got for ever thinking he could escape fate; a slap right in his face.

Because while for several cherished moments, he basked in the light on his soulmate not considering the pairing with him the infamous mistake the words on his skin claimed… he soon learned that it didn’t mean no heartbreak for him.

You had taken an abrupt leave to the back of the office and never came back.

Few minutes later, a man emerged from the door you had disappeared into, taking your seat and without a second look on Steve’s ID, he explained that Steve would have to come here again.

Steve didn’t care for the process of getting his driving licence renewed in the slightest, barely listening. His gaze was at the door to the hall, opened ajar, the door you didn’t return from after learning he was meant to be your partner.

When he had seen you behind the desk, he had considered you a beautiful dame, certain his heart had skipped a beat when your eyes met his. The sight of you was burned into his brain, now forever as a painful memory.

Clearly, you didn’t want him. Not because he was sickly, 95 pounds or 5’7’’ or all bones. Not because your words to him were about a mistake. Not because he was from Brooklyn. No. Honestly, Steve didn’t know why, what could scare you off so soon. He just knew you had escaped at the mere sight of him.

With his mind fuzzy, he walked out of the building into the bright nearly midday sun, blaming the sharp rays for the sting in his eyes. He sighed, running his hand down his face, suddenly bone tired.

“Mr. Rogers?” a shy female voice addressed him, instantly making him turn around to its source.

His lips parted in awe. There you stood, your airy floral dress reaching your knees, played with by the softest breeze. Hesitant smile on your lips. A tiniest spark in your eyes as he subconsciously took two steps to you, just to prove you would still be there if he came closer. You didn’t disappear.

“Y-yes?” he stuttered, actually feeling like the small man he had used to be before the serum.

You quietly introduced yourself, meeting his eyes once more, effectively stopping his heart again. You offered your hand for him to shake and he, feeling like he was dreaming, something else possessing his body, kissed your knuckles as he would have done if meeting you seventy years ago.

The most adorable heat warmed your cheeks at the gesture and you casted your gaze down; but Steve did catch a glimpse of the earlier spark shining brighter before you hid yourself from him

“I… I believe we have a lot to talk about,” you whispered and he instinctively gave your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and shifting a half step closer to you. The corners of his lips unwittingly turned up, something warm building up in his chest as you returned the smile with hesitance.

“Yes, I think we do.”

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Nicolas J. Fury was sitting in his office, waiting for the door to finally open. There was something bugging him – and that something was about 5’7’’ tall, had red hair and was doing whatever it wanted, messing with his business. On top of that, she left him waiting; he had requested her ten minutes ago and she still hadn’t arrived.

He couldn’t help but let his sarcasm show when she came eventually.

“Agent Romanoff. Thank you for coming. Now, care to explain me why did you insist on Rogers getting his driving license renewed in person when we have done it for him already?” he demanded, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his desk.

The agent just shrugged. “He needs to meet people.”

“Don’t give me this shit, Natasha! What are you not telling me?”

Slow smirk spread Natasha’s lips, perhaps a bit smug, but she didn’t say a word.

“Romanoff-“

“Alright! Jeez, Nick, you have to work on your patience when it comes to Rogers, I swear…” she teased him. However, at least she started talking. “I might have run his… words through the system Stark provided us.”

Realization dawned to Fury. There was only one system she could be talking about. The soulmate matching one. Insert the words of a person and it would search the database for a possible match; everyone’s words were being put into the database at their birth. It made SHIELD’s work easier in case criminals happened to have a soulmate; the connection was so unique it usually offered a weak spot even for the rotten people.

Nicolas Fury raised his eyebrow expectantly, while Natasha just watched him, amused as she had the upper hand. The man rolled his functioning eye and sighed exasperatedly. Why was he keeping her around again? Oh right, she was his best agent.

“Fine. Did you find a match?”

Natasha snorted. “I didn’t even have to look for a match. There aren’t many women with ‘But I really am 95’ written on their skin,” she explained dryly and Fury just wanted to growl, cursing mentally.

How had no one thought about using the database in the first place?! It had cost them a lot of money, okay? They had it for a reason!

“She clean?” he inquired instead or swearing out loud and Natasha scoffed.

“Like a whistle, not even a speed ticket, which is rather ironic. She’s boring, really – she’ll be perfect for him. Can I go now? I have an ass to kick.”

“…Rogers’?”

“Barton’s, actually. Have a good day, Director,” Natasha spun on her heels and headed to the exit gracefully.

“Hey, I want her file!” Fury complained, already knowing he wasn’t going to receive it from her.

“Find it yourself!” she threw over her shoulder cockily, her red hair swirling with the sudden movement of her head.

The director of SHIELD tried to keep his amusement in check, controlled by the irritation, but he lost. The corners of his lips twitched as the door clicked behind his best spy.

Why did he keep her around again?

He started the search for the words Natasha had said, sinking into his chair comfortably.

Alright, no doubt future Mrs. Rogers. Let’s see how boring you really are.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Part 2 (originally this was only meant a one-shot)

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Tags: @cxptain @mermaidxatxheart @smilexcaptainx​

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If you wish to be tagged/untagged, let me know - either via an ask or a message :)

Thank you for reading!!

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

What if; Sooga had a diary that he wrote ALL his dirty little fantasies about Kohga in. And one day, Kohga finds it. Instead of just reading it by himself, which would be humiliating enough for Sooga, Kohga decides to gather all the members of the clan around, and READ SOOGA’S DIARY OUT LOUD FOR EVERYONE TO HEAR

Oooh this is something fun to work with! Let’s go!

“Where the HELL did he hide it?? Dammit Sooga!”

Sooga was currently out training some new yiga members, and Kohga decided to have something sexy planned for when he got back. Only, what he was looking for, Sooga had hidden in his own goddamn room. It was smaller than his own, and yet, Kohga couldn’t fucking find it. A bottle of oil. His FAVORITE oil, that Sooga had used to jerk himself off. Was it hot? Yes. Was it convenient? No. He kept looking through Sooga’s shit, before he finally found what he was looking for. He grabbed it, and was about to make his way back to the room, when he accidentally knocked something over. Some small book.

“Oops. Hopefully that wasn’t anything too important-waaait. What’s this?”

Kohga thumbed through the small, leather bound book. He didn’t read the whole thing, but he soon realized; this was his diary. With a few mentions of Kohga’s ass. Oooh this was a diary. A PERVY diary. This was WAY better than the surprise he had in mind.

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

“Alright everyone, asses in front! All of you!”

No one had any idea why Kohga had commanded them forward, much less to his napping spot. It was important, given the fact that he was in his favorite seat. Sooga joined as well, of course, as he did with any event.

“Master Kohga. I was unaware you had something important planned.”

“It’s a last minute thing. Everyone comfy? Good. Because we’re going to have a BIT of a story time.”

Everyone was clearly excited about that, a few even clapped. Anyone loved ANY chance to listen to Kohga’s voice. Kohga whipped out the book, and Sooga looked over it curiously. He didn’t even know just what he was holding. This was going to be good. Kohga cleared his throat, getting comfy.

“Now. Everyone we got today’s material by a certain loyal lackey. He knows who he is.”

Kohga turned to a random page, and stopped as soon as he saw the word ‘ass’. Perfect.

“Ahem. ‘I’m ashamed to admit this, but I caught myself looking at Master Kohga’s ass today. I was just watching over as he slept, and I noticed how full and voluptuous it was. I was SO tempted to touch it, and had I not been interrupted by another member of the clan, wanting to know if Kohga needed snacks, I may have succumbed to those emotions. Even now, as I try to rest, I picture how it would feel in my hands’”

The recognition in his face. The recognition in ALL of their faces. Sooga made a beeline for the book, eager to silence him, but Kohga held his hand up. Sooga stopped on instinct, but he could tell he wanted SO badly to snatch it. Kohga wagged his finger in the air.

“Ah ah ah~. Sit, Sooga.”

“But Master Kohga, you CANNOT read-”

“Are you telling me what I can and can’t do, Sooga?”

He hesitated, before sitting down on his knees, keeping his gaze to the ground. Sooga patted his head, before turning to the next page.

“Oh here’s a good one. ‘I have acted poorly today. Instead of just resting, like one is supposed to for peak performance, I was up all night. I wasn’t trying to, I swear it, but I kept thinking of Kohga’s hands. Kohga’s hands are so nimble, so soft looking, I’d do anything to have them touch me. My own hand upon my cock is surely a poor comparison to the real thing. I’d do anything to just cum in his palm, just once, have him shove it in my face and tell me I’ve been filthy’. Damn Sooga, you got a bit into that one!”

A few members chuckled, some were eager to hear more of Sooga’s dirty, dirty fantasies, and Kohga swore he caught one or two touching themselves. All while Sooga stood there, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze. He was humiliated, and there was something so sexy, knowing his pride of a boyfriend wrote such dirty words. Kohga skimmed through before finding another page.

“‘I couldn’t believe myself. I had meant to deliver something to Master Kohga today, only to accidentally catch him in his bath. The door wasn’t fully closed, so I caught a glimpse of his nude body. I forced myself to walk away, but I only came back. It was worse off this time, as I had my favorite toy inside of me (the yellow one). I don’t know what compelled me to sit there and watch, picturing the fake gerth inside of me was Kohga’s. Kohga had such a soft looking body, but his random bouts of chuckling led me to believe that he is quite heavy handed in the bedroom. It wasn’t difficult for me to orgasm, right as I was watching him scrub his legs. I felt embarrassed, knowing I had  puddle of cum in my pants, but it was worth it, if only to live in the fantasy that Master Kohga would one day have me, to use me as he wishes’. Didn’t know you were such a pervert, Sooga!”

Even Kohga had to palm himself a little bit, a bit aroused by so many naughty confessions from his second hand. A few more were palming themselves, a few others were muttering over how naughty it was. All while Sooga stood there, gripping onto his knees, as if he was bracing for the pain. Kohga flipped through another page, not struggling to find another dirty page.

“Ooh okay okay, wait guys hold on, this ones gonna be good. ‘Kohga demanded I stay in his quarters tonight. Something about not feeling safe for whatever reason. No matter, I was determined to keep him safe. Little did I know, he wasn’t safe. Not from me. Master Kohga was asleep, and his mask was nudged. I saw his lips. I saw that they were luscious, soft as the clouds and pretty as a flower petal. I should’ve looked away. I should’ve covered him back up. I didn’t. I’m such a disgrace, I started to touch myself. I was sitting there in the corner, wanking off like a damn ape, picturing Kohga’s lips on my own. It was awful, but it felt SO good. Even as Kohga grumbled in his slumber, I felt only more and more aroused. Even as I write, my cock throbs at recalling just how it was possibly one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I found myself cumming all over Kohga’s mask. Ribbons of cum littered his mask, and I was thankful that I was able to get it off. Master Kohga must never know. No one must never know that I defiled my Master’s body, and trust’. Hooo, Sooga! You busted a nut right on me? I think I remember this date!”

Kohga swore he was at half chub now. Dirty, dirty boy he had in his hands. The clan was eager for him to read more, prompting him to keep going. Kohga turned to the last page, and he noticed Sooga’s demeanor changed. He had shrunken down, as if he didn’t want to be seen by his peers. This was gonna be the WORST one, he could tell.

“Okay, last one guys, then we’ll spare our poor, poor Sooga. ‘I’ve done many things in my life that I am not proud of. Knowing Master Kohga has become one of them.’”

Kohga sat up at that. Hello, that was new. The amusement seemed to die down a bit at such a statement. Kohga sat up, fully paying attention, in case he was reading it wrong.

“I have known many sick minded people. From my father, to the enemies I encounter on a daily basis. But not once have I encountered someone so deranged, so on the peak of insanity, as the grand Master Kohga’.”

He wasn’t finished with the page, but the yiga clan looked damn ready to beat the shit out of Sooga. Sooga sat there in shame, not ONCE defending himself. Kohga felt his mouth dry up, but if dirty laundry had to be aired, might as well do all of it. He swallowed, and with a quiver from his voice due to the anger, forced himself to continue.

“‘Master Kohga is nothing short of a madman. He may hold everyone’s adoration, may have everyone convinced he is that like a god, but I have been unblinded, ever since the day after the party. I know the truth.’”

The clan was boring holes into Sooga’s head, and Kohga was besides himself. How could he say all of those things? Even in his stupid diary. Kohga was fully pissed now, standing up as he finished it off, ready to beat Sooga’s no good, back stabbing ass.

“‘For why else would the most beautiful, the most charismatic, the most talented man I’ve ever met, be in love with me? Someone who is far from charming, someone is such a fool to believe that someone so incredible could love him as much as he claims? Kohga had to be insane, and I must be a fool.’”

Kohga suddenly found himself standing there like an idiot, honestly unable to form words. He looked at Sooga, who refused to look back up at him. He wasn’t ashamed over his dirty fantasies (well maybe he was a little), he was ashamed over this part, right here. Kohga motioned for everyone to leave, and everyone obeyed, though they clearly looked hesitant to do so. Once the room cleared, Sooga stood up, clearly in a panic.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t want you to read me saying something so AWFUL towards y-”

He was interrupted by Kohga suddenly wrapping his arms around him in a hug, nearly squeezing the life out of him.

“I love you. I really love you.”

Sooga was unsure what to do, before he just squeezed him just as tightly.

“I...take it I’m forgiven.”

“For nearly giving me a heart attack? Barely. For the wanking stuff? Yeah. You’re so stupid, dammit.”

He was crazy. But it seems as though they both were.

[moviemunchies]

After Prince Caspian didn’t make the oodles of money that the first Chronicles of Narnia film made, Disney decided that they weren’t interested in making more of these movies. Walden Media managed to get 20th Century Fox to distribute a third movie with them, and hoped to do more after that, though after losing the film rights those plans stalled and were eventually cancelled.

[Fox’s entertainment is owned by Disney now though so all three movies can be found on Disney+.]

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader was always going to be a difficult story to adapt, because while it’s fantastical it doesn’t have a Plot that works very well for a big budget fantasy film. There is no one villain for the heroes to defeat; the quest is to explore and find the Seven Lost Lords of Telmar that have been missing for years. Drawing inspiration from mythology and medieval literature about extraordinary voyages, it involves the heroes going from one island to another and encountering very weird stuff. Also Reepicheep wants to get to Aslan’s Country, which he believes is on the other side of the ocean.

It’s a delightful book, but how does one translate that into a movie?

Walden Media decided instead to sort of change the Plot. Caspian is still looking for the Seven Lost Lords, but there’s also an ancient evil haunting the seas east of Narnia, and the only way to defeat it is with special swords the Seven Lords took with them, and place them on Aslan’s Table near the edge of the world. Some of the islands are condensed or rearranged in where they show up in the Plot to make it all fit together. Eustace remains a dragon for significantly longer, which isn’t a problem for me because I love dragons. In the end, the journey to Aslan’s Country is less of a metaphor-made-real about getting to Heaven as much as, “Welp we kind of ended up here on the way to do something else.” The result is I think nowhere near as meaningful as the book, but it IS a fun fantasy film.

Also the evil Green Mist that appears throughout this movie was apparently meant to be foreshadowing for/related to the Lady of the Green Kirtle, the antagonist of _The Silver Chair_ and so I’m more than a bit bummed that there wasn’t a sequel to this film, as I am VERY curious to see how Walden Media would have adapted that character.

Anyway the Plot goes like this: World War II is still going on and while Peter and Susan are with their parents in America, Edmund and Lucy are staying with their cousin Eustace who they don’t quite get along with. Edmund’s a bit bummed about not having any authority even now that he’s out of Peter’s shadow, and Lucy feels like she never got the attention that her older sister got. And Eustace is a bit of a useless full-of-himself jerk.

AND THEN THEY GO TO NARNIA! They’re picked up by Caspian (who after a few Narnian years no longer has a Spanish accent) who is sailing east from Narnia to find out what happened to the Seven Lost Lords of Telmar, seven nobles who were supporters of his father who were sent out to the Lone Islands by Miraz and never returned. On this quest they discover a strange Green Mist that haunts the seas and makes people disappear sometimes.

So it’s like that.

I think it mostly works as an adaptation if you can accept the changes they made. But there are a couple of things that are a bit annoying. Lucy’s arc, for starters: this movie shows that she’s envious of the attention Susan got from others because of her beauty. And while that’s an understandable character trait, it has never been seen before this film. If this wasn’t a series it wouldn’t an issue, but it is so unlike Edmund’s desire to be out of Peter’s shadow and be recognized on his own (a trait that was present in the very first film and downplayed in the second), this feels like it comes out of nowhere. I get that it’s to adapt a scene from the novel in which Lucy is tempted to use a spell from the enchanter’s book to become beautiful, so I don’t mind it too much, but it IS a bit sloppily done, I think.

We’re also told that the journey is meant to test our heroes, and by that we’re shown them being tempted to give in to their desires, and Caspian doesn’t really get as much of that as the others. Edmund and Lucy get a lot of testing, and Eustace gets turned into a freaking dragon, but Caspian’s testing is mostly limited to a couple of scenes at most. In the book he has more, especially when reaching the border of Aslan’s Country--his subjects have to bluntly tell him that he can’t go there yet because as king he has other duties, and it’s not until he sulks in the cabin and has a conversation with Aslan does he realize that they’re right. The film does show that he wants to go, but of his own wisdom knows that he has to serve his people.

Still, it is a good movie full of great character moments. Edmund took sort of a backseat in _Prince Caspian_ and here he gets to shine as a lead character. Eustace is delightful in how annoying he is and how he gets better. And Reepicheep, dear Reepicheep, who is AWESOME (and voiced by Simon Pegg this time around).

[Oh and Tilda Swinton appears as the White Witch in visions brought on by the Green Mist--which, if it IS meant to be brought on by the Lady of the Green Kirtle, who in the books has an unclear connection to Jadis, has VERY interesting implications. The real reason is that Tilda Swinton loved working in the first movie and was happy for any excuse to come back, and they liked having her so they let her do it.]

It has good characters, it has great scenes, and it has solid acting. The Plot feels a bit weaker this time around, in large part because they’re made up a new one and they’re desperately trying to “recapture the magic of the first film” (no really, watch any promotional interviews and that phrase, or something like it, is dropped a bajillion times). Still, it’s not a bad Plot, just one that doesn’t sound that original or strong. I think the movie is definitely still fun and worth watching.

I don’t know if it feels this way because it’s the last movie Walden Media made, but the ending feels like a cap to the trilogy in a way that’s both fitting and a bit sad. If you’re a fan of these  movies, you will definitely want to see this movie just for completion’s sake (or as close to complete as one can do since the series didn’t finish). I think book fans will like it, but if you’re a novel purist then it’s possible you won’t because so much was changed.

[ficforce]

Little Lady Part 2

Joker/52 x Reader

SFW

No set timeline

New relationship

Staring at the ceiling of her room, Y/N let out a sigh and held up the card for the millionth time. She often found herself studying it as if it would answer all of her questions - Why had he given it to her?

That strange, dangerous man with a huge grin.

The one who had comforted her when she cried…

It was hard to remember all of the small details about him after such a brief encounter. Closing her eyes she took a breath and cast her mind back; he had long hair, she vaguely remembered it shining in the firelight. She knew he was tall and slim but when he had held her, when she had been fighting with him she had felt hard muscle under his clothes.

Often before she fell asleep she would see his purple eye in her mind.

She wished she could think less about him.

Why had he been there and what was he planning? He was creepy and he had given off a frightening aura at first - that’s why she had run.

Pocketing the card Y/N finally got up and left the Fire House, it was her day off and she wanted to explore the area. Her morning was fairly regular, she found a coffee shop and explored a bookshop down the road, she spent hours looking at the books, fiction and factual, some of them she was tempted to buy but in the end, she put them back hesitantly. Whilst slipping an engineering guide back into place Y/N felt a shiver run down her back, turning her head quickly to see if she was being watched she thought she saw someone but dismissed it.

Her next stop was a clothing store having a sale, she needed to get some winter clothing sooner rather than later if the chilly wind was anything to go by. Picking a coat had been easy but it was the choice between a purple scarf and a black scarf that had her stuck. Again she felt like someone was watching her, another shiver hit her and Y/N spun to look behind her - something that felt like breath on the back of her neck made her squeak and stumble forward before turning again.

Nothing.

Though when she looked down at her basket she saw that the purple scarf had fallen inside.

Her purse was gone.

The rest of her day went like that, the feeling of being watched and little instances that spooked her or made her jump. Y/N became so concerned with keeping an eye out for the thing making her jumpy that she crashed into someone as she was crossing the road, “Sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it.” They had kept on walking, vanishing down a side street and Y/N decided it was time to go back to base - she couldn’t relax. Reaching into her pocket for her purse she paused, checking her other one just in case…

“Don’t worry, Little Lady,” Joker said and held her purse up with his spare hand, “The nice man was about to return it, right?” The thief couldn’t nod and he barely had any breath inside his lungs - the hand around his throat making that difficult. Dropping the thief to the dirty, alley floor, Joker jerked his head to the side, “Get out of here.” They scrabbled up off of the ground and ran past Y/N toward the exit of the alley; leaving just the two of them.

She didn’t even think about it, she ran in the direction the man who had bumped into her had gone and down the alley. From memory, she knew there was an exit straight ahead and an opening to the left, taking the left she came to a halt with a shocked gasp. If she kept this up she would get whiplash from all of her sudden stops.

The man who had bumped into her was being held against the wall by his neck, his feet a good few inches off the ground and babbling out panicked apologies like a frightened child. The one holding him up was dressed in smart pants, a white shirt and a maroon waistcoat, his hat obscured his face a little but she recognised him right away.

“You…” Y/N began, taking a step back as Joker advanced on her, “You’ve been following me, haven’t you?” It had to have been him, it was too much of a coincidence for her to feel watched so often, “S-Stay back!” He kept coming toward her and she kept walking backwards until she had backed herself against the wall and his hands came up to cage her in.

Her breath hitched as his face leaned towards hers.

Joker’s eye narrowed and he pushed himself off the wall, taking one step back so that he wasn’t crowding her; she was scared of tight spaces, he could remember at least that much from their first encounter. “I’m not gonna hurt you, here’s your purse back.” Joker handed it to her, waiting until she snatched it out of his hand to grin down at her, she didn’t trust him at all, did she?

“Glad you didn’t get burnt to a crisp.”

“No thanks to you!” Y/N snapped and made to leave the alley, he quickly moved to block her exit, hands up in surrender and his expression was almost panicked like he didn’t want her to go.

“Hold on, Y/N, not yet, you want a coffee or something? A snack, you didn’t eat much today?” He saw the way her eyebrows drew together and the tall man sighed. He wasn’t good at this kind of thing and he wasn’t even sure if he was going about this the right way, “I just wanna talk.”

“…And what’s your name?”

She hesitated for a moment, looking at him suspiciously, trying to figure him out by just looking but he was hard to read. His body language was all over the place - almost like he wanted to run away, his words were friendly and wanted her to stay but the waving hands and the way his voice pitched just a little, told her he was nervous as hell.

Like a stray cat that wanted food but was afraid of being kicked.

It wasn’t too different from a feral she used to feed, it had never known how to interact with the other cats and ended up alone. “How do you know my name?”

“I looked inside your purse, says your name on the ID.” He wasn’t the least bit sorry for snooping.

He gave her a large grin before lighting up a cigarette, “Don’t you know? I gave you my business card.”

“You gave me a playing card, you nut!” Y/N almost ripped it out of her coat pocket so that she could push it almost into his face, “This doesn’t tell me a thing! Don’t you know how to introduce yourself like a regular person?!”

Joker was a little stunned by her sudden outburst and his widened eye focussed on the card nearly pressed to his nose; she had kept his card. It was a little burnt but he could see that she had been playing with it, it was worn a little in places, curled and warped from being held and fidgeted with - why didn’t she just throw it away?

Y/N took a step toward him, agitated that he had been messing with her all day, agitated that he had been all she could think about since meeting him, “This is just a joker card, how is this a business card?”

He chose it himself?

This time it was him that took a nervous step back, hands up in front of him again in surrender, “You sure are fiery today, Little Lady…” It never ceased to amaze him how people changed when they were scared or angry, “I’m Joker, so it’s totally a business card!”

“What kind of name is that?”

“One I chose myself.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, her frown becoming a little deeper as she tried to make sense of him, he chose his own name? The woman crossed her arms and continued to half glare at him before throwing caution to the wind and asking, “And what was the name you were given?”

He had never had a name, not one that he knew of at least; he had been abandoned and then thrown into the darkness to serve as the Church’s pawn, to perform its dirtiest tasks. So he gave the only other answer he could, “Five-Two.”

She closed her mouth, for a moment she was going to scold him for blurting out those numbers to her, then it clicked. He really was just a feral cat that didn’t fit in with his own people.

The way he acted, the almost stalking when all he said he wanted to do was talk, getting her purse back… he was just some stray looking to her for scraps.

He had no idea how to people like other people.

But he had known enough to know that she had needed comfort after being trapped in such a small place, he had made sure she hadn’t been hurt in the explosions he caused in the Rookie Games. It was evident he could read people even if he didn’t quite know what to do.

“I was looking out for you!” He grumbled.

“…You…” She was stumped for what to say.

Instead, she grabbed his hand and began pulling him toward the street, “You can buy me a hot chocolate for creeping me out all day, got it?”

“That’s called stalking, idiot.”

Joker pulled on her hand, stopping her from walking into oncoming traffic after she had missed the light changing colour, “Careful, Little Lady. I don’t want you going splat.”

“You could have just stopped at ‘careful’,” Y/N looked away as heat began to rise in her cheeks, “And stop calling me ‘Little Lady’!”

[pedropascalspain]

WILDEST DREAMS

WILDEST DREAMS

Pairing: Javier Peña/Reader

Warnings: not very much, mentions of sex and some curse words.

Notes: This fanfic is completely inspired by Taylor Swift’s song Wildest Dreams. English is not my native language, so please forgive me if it has some mistakes.

________________________________

You were working as a secretary at the embassy since a couple of weeks but you already have heard all the possible rumors. The other girls seemed to love gossip and they talked about every single worker at the Embassy, every one of them, and they knew all the dirty little secrets concerning the agents, other secretaries and even the ambassador. You were glad that you didn’t have much to hide. You were a very transparent person, and you never had the necessity to hide anything from anyone. But one of the main attractions of the girls was Javier Peña, they loved to talk a lot about him. They criticized what he was doing with women, as he was known to be a ladies man. They said that he was very problematic, but let’s be clear, jealousy was talking because all of them wanted a chance with him. And you understood that, how not to want a chance if he was so tall and handsome as hell. He was the most gorgeous man you ever saw, without a doubt.

By the things they were saying you could asume that he didn’t appear like a very good person. In terms of black and white, he was totally in the gray category. It was known he had to do some bad things in his job, so you could conclude that while his partner, Steve Murphy, was the good agent, he was the bad, but he did it so well you didn’t matter at all.

You almost wanted to be the lucky girl that he would pick up one night to be with him, mostly to use and to threw the next day as he is said to do with all the girls. But the key word was “almost”. You almost wanted it because you were too good girl to really behave that way although it was very very tempting. So you just tried to enjoy your time there talking nonsense about the people, mostly listening about what the others had to say about this one or that one, and watching them have fun just betting about who was going to be the chosen one or if there would be another informant or another Peña conquest, or some other gossip they chose to talk about.

Your work there was not very exciting. You were there basically as a common secretary. You thought that with the DEA working there to catch Escobar your work would be more exciting, but you were limited to attending the phone, doing copies and doing some coffees from one person or another. Sometimes you questioned yourself about why you picked up the job in the first place. Well, if you paid attention maybe it was because the pay was good, because you had the opportunity to travel to another exciting new country and because you had a chance to improve your Spanish. Apart from that, the work was boring as hell and the company wasn’t so good either, as you had nothing in common with all the other secretaries and you didn’t have a lot of friends here in Colombia. So you told yourself that you were going to spend maybe one or two years there and then you would move on to another work more fulfilling for you.

One day you were lost in your thoughts when the infamous Javier Peña proceeded to approach to your table. You couldn’t believe that you had actually a real chance to meet the man in person, the real legend, because you always watched him in the Embassy from the distance and you never had a chance to cross paths with him or to talk with him in person. So when he approached to your table you were a little confused. At first he was very charming and even more handsome at short distance. You could tell that all the other women nearby were looking at you.

“May I help you” you asked politely.

“Yes, I am Agent Javier Peña and I was wondering if you could get me an interview with your boss” he said with a half smirk.

“Well, maybe if you set an appointment we could work on that” you said looking through the agenda.

“Ok, but I didn’t explain myself clearly. I don’t have time to make an appointment so maybe if you could put an appointment for myself right now I could be very grateful” he said pointing his finger to the agenda you were consulting.

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow “I mean, you are trying to say me that I had to pass all the other appointments just because you smiled politely at me and because you are handsome?”.

“So you find me handsome” he smirked. 

You couldn't believe that was the only part of your sentence that stuck into his brain “Umm, I mean, no, that’s not the point, that’s not what I said but…”.

“I get it, hermosa”.

“No, you don’t get it guapo. I’m not some kind of puppet that you can make do whatever you want, I’m not that kind of girl” you were beginning to get furious.

“And why what kind of girl are you? Tell me”.

“A righteous one” you said a little confused by his question.

“So, hermosa, why don’t you do the right thing and let me see your boss, because this is a very important matter”.

Unbelievable. “Well, why don’t you do the right thing and set an appointment and maybe he could see you tomorrow. I bet you can wait one day”.

“Look, you are wearing a nice dress, so maybe you could make an appointment right now and then we could show that beautiful dress at the bar”, he was being very confident in himself, that made you more and more mad, although at the same time some dark part of you were excited that Javier Peña wanted to take you out. But you weren’t that kind of girl.

“Are you trying to buy me with your company? Do I look so desperate to you?”

He looked at you with confusion but with interest. You were mysterious and he liked that, he also liked that you didn’t seem to be like the other girls and that you weren't an easy catch.

“I mean, then you are telling me that you aren’t interested in that offer” he said looking directly into your eyes.

You began to flush but just at that moment your boss exited the office and saw you flustered by him. “Y/N what is he doing he?” he said with a very rude tone “I don’t want to see you with him or you are fired. I don’t want another stupid secretary that can’t keep her panties on. Understood?”.

Your blood boiled and you said without thinking twice, and in your sweetest voice “Agent Peña is here because he has an appointment with you right now”.

Javier looked at you with a mix of curiosity and amusement, and keeping an eye at you he answered to your boss “Yes, I had made an appointment”. You could tell he said it with humor.

“Right here Mr. Peña” you said as you guide him to your boss office passing in front of him with a perfectly still face. Maybe you were just a secretary, but that jerk better treat you right or his agenda was going to be messed up a lot.

Half an hour later, Javier exited the room and told you “You shouldn’t have to endure working for this asshole, hermosa”.

You half smiled and replied “If you ever need anything else from him I will be very much pleased to help”.

He smiled as he walked away.

*******************************

A couple of days passed by and you were tired to listen all the other girls talking about your encounter with Javier Peña. If you had to admit it, you still thought too much about it  but you couldn’t help it. Also, you suspected your boss was an asshole from day one but until this moment he hadn’t acted as one so clearly, only looked at you with lewd eyes. You only wanted for the week to end so you could forget about your boss, your stupid work, your superficial coworkers and your encounter with Javier Peña. 

It was finally Friday when you were walking out of the Embassy ready for heading home to spend another quiet weekend. You knew some girls had set up plans but you excused yourself because you couldn’t spent more time with them outside of the office or you would go crazy. You couldn't wait to arrive home and relax.

When you were approaching your car you saw someone by its side. You were between curious and scared when you finally saw it was Javier Peña. As he saw you, he began walking towards you and said “Let’s get out of this town drive out of the city away from the crowds”, while he took you by your arm and dragged you to his own car.

Normally, you should have protested, because he wasn't even asking you, he was treating you as his property. You couldn't help to shiver at the thought of being his. And you thought “heaven can’t help me now, nothing last forever but this is gonna take me down” as he took your hand and helped you into his car. You weren’t acting like yourself as you let this handsome man dragged you with him. You thought maybe the hot weather had finally affected your brain, or your common sense at least. You two kept quiet for a moment, and when he began driving he finally broke the silence. “Sorry for the kidnapping but I was observing you this week at the office and though you could use some change of scenery”.

“So it was a planned kidnapping I guess” you said jokingly. “But you're alright. Thanks, for the consideration but I’ve just didn’t expect you to notice me”.

“You did me a favor the other day and I am only returning it, since you refused my invitation to the bar. Also, I know one town nearby which has a damn good restaurant, without the possibility to drop by someone from the Embassy”.

You laughed, it seemed quite a good plan yet still strange. You though he maybe was trying his chances on you, as if he expected you to have fallen for him since the first second you met him.  You thought that this could end probably as one more rumor of Javier Peña, and probably one rumor to gossip about you. You could see the end as it begins but at that moment you didn’t care at all.

You felt brave, confident, different with him, maybe empowered because he chose you. You didn’t know what exactly to expect but decided it was about time for you to enjoy the moment, to add new experiences in your life. After all, you were a grown woman, so you could enjoy yourself a one night stand, even if that wasn’t your typical relationship. In fact, it would be your first night stand, but there always had to be a first.

So you surprised him, and yourself, by telling “Ok, let’s have fun. And also, as you said you’ve been observing me, I also knew some things about you, so whatever happens tonight my own condition is this: say you’ll remember me standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset with red lips and rosy cheeks”.

He was genuinely surprised. So you continued “I don’t want dramas, I want to have fun, forget work and try to loose myself. If this ends just as a polite dinner between coworkers, remember me that way without resentment. And if we end having something more tonight say you’ll see me again even if it’s just in your wildest dreams. I won’t ask for anything more”. You could see a little change in him the moment you mentioned “something more”, like he began breathing faster. But it was just a second, and he instantly relaxed and chuckled.

“I’ve never encountered such a straightforward woman” he said smiling. “That’s a deal then”.

After the “deal” was settled, you both began to talk about a lot of things. He told you about his dangerous job, you told him about your boring one. You talked about movies, music and you felt so comfortable that you began for the first time in Colombia letting your silly self out and made a couple of jokes that got him cracking up.

You finally arrived to the restaurant and ordered. He was right, the food was amazing. You enjoyed the rest of the evening, it was very easy to talk to him, too easy. You wondered if it was because he was the charmer, and was used to charm women. You didn't let it bother you, so when you headed out of the restaurant and he was taking you home you told yourself that you weren't going to overanalyze things. You were just going with the flow, for the first time in your life.

You arrived to your building and the tension between you grew higher and higher. You could guess you both wanted the same thing but something was stopping him from it. When he walked you to your door you opened it and turned to say goodnight but, before any of you could react, you were both kissing deeply. He entered your house and stopped abruptly the kiss.

You watched him in surprise as he said “Your boss is a jerk, but I don’t want you to loose your job because you made me horny”.

You closed the door behind him and told in a low voice “No one has to know what we do “.

In a blink of an eye his hands were in your hair, his clothes were in your room and his voice was a familiar sound. You thought that nothing last forever but this was getting good.

The night turned into day and he was still in your bed sleeping, he didn’t left. He opened one eye and saw you already getting out of bed and stopped you. He took you by your waist and kept you in bed while he approached you and began kissing your neck. “Where are you going hermosa?”.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if you don’t want to stay. It’s ok as we already talked. I prefer to retire in time and that you'll see me in hindsight tangled up with you all night burning it down”.

“Do you want me to go?” he said while he continued kissing your arm, your shoulder, and caressing your skin.

“No, but I know how it works and… I’ve just wanted to remain myself when you leave me, that’s why I asked you that when you walk out the door please say you’ll see me again even if it’s just pretend”.

“Cariño, I don’t have to pretend because I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to”.

[alkhale]

Shoot the Ball (Ushijima x Reader) Ko-Fi request

Guuuurl can I please get like a bunch of accidental run in encounters with ushiwaka plssss I feel like he doesn’t get much love

Here’s the problem with a school like Shiratorizawa.

It’s a big school.

Fucking huge.

Massive campus yet elite, trimmed student body with a very personal class average of students to teachers. Private tutors are offered in every nook and cranny of the libraries, and the dorms are luscious and extravagant.

Unknown to many of your classmates but most of your team members are aware, you got into Shiratorizawa on a favor from your childhood kyudo coach and a hefty scholarship you had to claw your way towards over a bunch of other studious bookworms. 

You’re the leading star on Shiratorizawa’s kyudo club, the ochi from your tachi group, the last person to shoot, the person who guides the rest of the team. You also hold the position of captain in your third year at Shiratorizawa, and kyudo is all you have ever known and love.

But, but, but, but, at a school like Shiratorizawa where a classic, high performance sport like kyudo, a traditional, beautiful sport like kyudo should be fairly popular, your club and your teammates’ performances are always outshone by more high-energy, easily watchable sports.

Shiratorizawa’s sports expect nothing but the highest level of triumphs from all their divisions. From basketball to dressage on horse, each club is required to perform admirably. If you perform well, the more funding you got for your club, the more prestige, and all good things.

Shiratorizawa’s kyudo club is actually high on the list, last year your team placed first at the Inter High and made it to the top four in nationals. Despite all this, despite the fact that you even scored consecutive kaichus, hitting all your marks and not missing a single arrow, making waves in the kyudo community and getting higher renown for your team, your headmaster still refused to acknowledge your club.

You’d come to him, white headband tied around your head, posters ready, armed and prepared to fight tooth and nail for an increase in funds and a spot at advertisements because if your fellow student body just knew about the sport, more people would join, more people would watch, and your club wouldn’t be in danger of closing down after you graduate or declining—

“It’s just not popular!” your headmaster clapped you over the shoulders himself, beaming. “Keep working hard though! Good job last year!”

Because popular and television-worthy, massive poster worthy, constant overhead announcements in the morning and the afternoon about matches, constant offered opportunities for extra credit, belong to certain sports at Shiratorizawa.

Shiratorizawa’s Boys’ Volleyball team.

Every morning you came to school and stared in disgust, not out of a personal vendetta for the guy, but for his whole damn team for taking the spotlight for the past three years you’d been here at Shiratorizawa, at the giant, blown up poster lining your school’s walls, posted in any classroom you two might have together. He flooded the school’s daily bulletin, online articles, even the god damn konbini near your house when your returned home for the holidays.

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Volleyball star, playing for Japan’s national youth team—which was something you did drool over because nationals was your goal for kyudo—and even top of all his classes.

You kinda hated this guy and you didn’t even know him.

But it was no matter because this year you planned to take your team all the way to the top. Everyone at this damn rich school was going to known kyudo and love it, damn it. They were going to sing your praises all the way down the halls, line up outside the shooting range to get a peek at your beautiful team and fall in love with the bow.

All the way to the same stage this rich, boastful school’s especial crowning achievment and pride, enough to get them their own stupid bus, enough to get them their own damn gym, enough to get them their own damn cheer squad and—

Your first real, personal meeting with Ushijima Wakatoshi goes something like this:

I don’t need more protein, I need better results. You frowned, staring at the picture of the protein drink you’d been texted that was apparently quite popular these days, according to your fellow teammate. She constantly sang its praises, promising nothing but the best and urging you to start getting into it.

“Your practice schedule is too rigid!” she lectured, shaking her hands at you as you notched another arrow and took aim. “You’re going to shoot arrows till you’re an old maid! No one will marry you at this rate!”

“Kyudo will marry me,” you said, completely serious. “I’m marrying the best kyudo archer of this era and no one else.”

“He’s over fifty!”

“I like them older anyways.”

While normally you would have ignored your vice captain in favor of your own home remedies, your joints were acting up lately, specifically your left wrist and that was never a good sign. You had a feeling the tautness to the new string you were trying to break in wasn’t doing you any favors either. You needed to keep an eye on it in case it got worse.

I can’t bring this team down.

The school’s mini-grocery was fairly empty at this hour. Most students were back at the dorms and anyone still lingering around should’ve just finished with their own club practices.

The rows were designed so items could be taken from either side, not just one. You browsed the aisle, tempted by the choco-snacks but willing yourself to put another batch of fruits in instead. Have to treat my health like second nature. Results don’t come from potato chips.

“Finally,” your eyes zeroed in on the brightly colored bottle. A hefty size, meant to be poured out in cups and drunk daily. You had no idea how it would taste, but by your vice captain’s face, it couldn’t be too great.

You crouched down, reaching for the last bottle on the lowest row.

A massive hand engulfed yours at the top of the bottle’s cap, swallowing your hand whole.

“Holy shit!” you shrieked, ripping your hand away—only to find yourself unable to do so with the massive hand still laid down over yours. You hit the floor on your ass, gaping in horror at the monstrous palm and the calloused fingers and fearing this was finally the moment you were dragged into some abyss by an unknown creature and killed—

Eyes like olives, flecked with gold.

You stared, caught, unable to move for a second. You’d always thought his eyes were brown. You never noticed the weird lining to them that gave them a sharper look, like an eagle or—

“My bad,” Ushijima. Ushijima Wakatoshi said, his voice a deep, resounding rumble in his chest like a goddamn bear. 

He crouched there, sitting back on his heels, directly across the aisle from you, peering through the metal shelf like some kind of monster trying to fit through a crack. His massive hand and massive arm barely had to leave his body to reach the same bottle of protein you’d both been shooting for. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

All at once, the flood of posters assaulted your brain. The blaring announcements, the squealing girls, the headmaster, the volleyball buses with his face printed on the side, the magazines, the articles and—

You blinked, once, twice.

His lips parted.

You ripped your hand out from under his with a hefty amount of force. The action sent you flat on your back and you were sure he’d gotten a front row view of under your skirt but you really didn’t give a crap.

“Have it!” you barked out, awkwardly scrambling to your feet. You grabbed your basket and Ushijima blinked once at you, slowly, face monotonous. “You need it more anyway, jerk!”

You huffed, shoulders puffing up. Ushijima was silent on the other side of the aisle, wordlessly taking the bottle of protein with him as he stood.

You gaped.

HE’S A LIVING TREE.

Your neck actually craned a bit, straining to look up at him and he stared down at you from the top of the aisle.

His arm promptly stuck itself through the gap in the shelf, offering the drink to you.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, voice devoid of emotion. “You should take it.”

For some reason that irked you.

You forcefully—struggling with great difficulty—shoved the drink back to his side through the shelves. Ushijima blinked once, slow down at you and you bared your teeth at him before hoisting your basket up into your arm and storming to the check out where you flew through your wallet, aggressively paying the lady at the counter, nearly running into a smirking redhead at the doorway and rushing the rest of the way to your dorm where people kept asking why you looked so damn mad.

“Who was that?” Tendou chirped, sidling up to Ushijima. “A fan?”

Ushijima stared out the still swinging door and calmly examined the bottle of protein in his hand.

“No,” he said.

“...you gonna continue with the sentence or what?” Tendou prodded.

I hate this time of the year. You frowned, burrowing deeper into your muffler as you fought the early morning chill. Several other students were trudging beside you, sleep in their eyes as you all headed to the regular meeting for club time slots. You always showed up as early as possible to get the best dibs for your club. 

You absently kicked a pebble in your way, wondering how you should organize practice this week. You wanted to brush up on your form again and—

Why was everyone looking at you like that?

“Good morning.”

It took you a moment to realize a massive shadow had engulfed your own. You stared at your feet for a moment, rubbing your eyes before slowly turning.

Ushijima Wakatoshi bore down on you, face cast in dark shadows from the early morning darkness, puffs of steam clouding by his mouth where he breathed.

He looked like a monster.

You felt your hackles raise, nearly jumping out of your sneakers as you started to backpedal away from him, “Hah?”

“Good morning,” Ushijima said, looking completely unfazed by the crack of dawn and cold.

You continued to hurry backwards toward the gym while barking back at him as Ushijima took calm steps forward—since you were both headed the same way—every three of your steps one of his own.

To anyone else, it looked as though a bear were advancing on a chihuahua.

“G-Good morning to you too!” you snapped. “Bye!”

“What?” Ushijima asked.

“I said bye you—”

“We’re still headed the same way.”

“Stop following me then!”

 - - - - - - - - 

You smirked, hefting the pile of posters into your arms. This was it, this was going to work for sure. No way anyone could ignore the please join flyers if you were pinning them up all around the school, and the team had worked hard to make it stand out and eye catching, appealing to all genders and interests.

Your wrist was starting to bother you a bit, so you shifted the papers to the other arm. I got careless trying to get the bow turn again. I need to slow it down and ice it tonight.

Who says we’re last on the funding list? You grinned, grabbing your tape. They can’t ignore us with a bunch of members—

“Good afternoon.”

You screeched, dropping your stack of flyers onto your foot. They scattered the hallway.

Ushijima calmly turned his gaze downwards, staring at the colorfully illustrated flyers now flooding both your feet.

Join the kyudo club!

“You,” you snapped, urging your heart to calm and shoving your tape back into your pocket. You hurried, grabbing the flyers and restacking them as he stood, towering above you. “What the heck do you want? Do you get some kind of kick out of scaring people or—”

In one smooth, swift motion, Ushijima had crouched down beside you. You stared, gaping in disbelief as his large hands—he has such big hands, I’ve never seen anyone with hands that big, this guy is all muscle and—moved across the floor, gathering up the papers in one fell swoop. His bangs shifted slightly over the slight furrow of his brows. 

Ushijima looked at you, quiet, somber, unreadable as he carefully put your stack back together.

He looked weird in the school uniform. You were so used to seeing him in his volleyball one. He seemed like a different person. Oh, you’re the type that leaves the first button undone.

“I did not mean to scare you,” he said, slow, with that rumbling voice of his. It sent a timbre down your spine.

Ushijima remained silent, staring calmly at you, seemingly content with the silence.

“Y-Yeah, well,” you started. “My bad then.”

You quickly stood, lifting your stack. You stared down at Ushijima for once as he calmly looked up at you and promptly ran off without another word, unable to figure out the weird awkwardness that sat on your tongue whenever you dealt with him.

I mean, it’s not like I really… hate him right?

Why the hell am I running into him so much?

You just needed to shoot some arrows and you’d feel a lot better.

-----------

You shot too many arrows.

You frowned at your throbbing wrist, giving it a look of utter betrayal. The nurse had said to give her a few minutes for her to come back with some pain killers. You were only in the infirmary this time because the pain had gotten to a point where you’d actually dropped your bow in the middle of a draw.

Prelims are coming up. You glared harder at your wrist. You just needed to ice it and you’d feel better. I can’t let them down.

You were taking them straight to the top and then it’d be kyudo posters this school would see, not just stupid Ushijima’s face and—

“(L/n)-san.”

You screeched, nearly toppling off your stool. Your wrist smacked into the counter and you hissed in pain, tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

Ushijima stood in the doorway of the infirmary, staring at you with furrowed brows.

Why him, why now? You grunted in greeting, gingerly rubbing your throbbing wrist, turning away from him toward the window.

You heard the door close behind him, focusing all your attention on anything else to ignore the massive presence behind you.

“What happened?”

WHY IS HE TALKING TO ME. 

“Oh, this and that,” you said simply, vaguely, struggling to find better words. You… you really didn’t hate this guy personally or anything, but it was personal at the same time? You didn’t know how you felt about him and it was making you confused.

You hated being confused.

Ignoring any and all other social cues, Ushijima took a seat on the stool beside you, back and posture impeccable. His hands calmly set on his knees. His volleyball uniform like second skin against his form, revealing nothing but miles of muscle and hardwork.

You stared at him in disbelief.

Ushijima faced forward, face unreadable.

….okay. You awkwardly glanced to the side, rubbing at your wrist. Way to make it even more awkward. Does this guy not socialize much or what?

“Uh,” no! Don’t talk to him! Just keep your mouth shut! “What happened to you?” you said awkwardly.

Ushijima’s face relaxed an inch. You blinked in surprise.

“My knee,” he said. “Coach made me go get it checked out.”

“...me too,” you said. He looked at you. You looked away. “Not my knee, I mean. My wrist. My vice captain will have my head if I didn’t. I told her I could just ice it.”

“You should be more careful,” Ushijima said.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“I’m sorry?”

“You do not need to apologize.”

You stared.

Ushijima motioned to your wrist, not taking his eyes off your face, “Your fans would be disappointed if you were unable to perform.”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“You do not need to apologize,” Ushijima said again, shaking his head. You gaped at him. “I would be disappointed. I wish to see your kaichu again.”

Your brain short-circuited. You were left to dumbly look at Ushijima. He seemed to take pity on you and turned fully on his stool, several heads taller, looking down at you before he calmly said—

“I am a fan of your archery.”

The two of you sat there in silence.

Steam shot out of your ears as your face exploded into red. Ushijima watched in silence as you toppled over your stool and back onto the ground.

- i also stan one giant tree

[into-crazy]

More to the Madness Pt. 11

Ledger!Joker x Female Reader series

Summary: Continuation to part 10 of J breaking into your apartment.

Warnings- Cursing, mentions of violence, angst, dark themes(thoughts about the death/hurting of the other), NSFW, SMUT, thigh riding, some gun play, choking, unprotected sex, overstimulation, orgasm denial, ages 18+

More smut, yay! Also this is another terribly long piece. Why are my smut pieces always so long?

You can find the other parts RIGHT HERE and through the “More to the Madness” tag lovelies💞💞

You narrow your gaze at him in suspicion. What is he up to? It's a trap, it's got to be. He's always got something tricky up his purple sleeve. "No. I'm fine right here."

His jaw clenches at your words, the frustration creeping in his face articulated by the squelching of his gloves as his hands ball into fists. He snarls, "you're being difficult right now, doll." Low and dangerous, a clear warning.

Too bad you've got a terrible knack for ignoring those.

You plant your feet, standing your ground. "I'm being difficult? You still haven't told me why you're here."

His tongue clicks in the silent air while he thinks to himself for a split second. "Then uh, why don't ya come over here an' lemme tell ya hm? I know you want to, don't act like ya don't. Seeing I haven't given you a reason to shoot me when you had the chance. So, be a good girl and come sit down. I'm not gonna ask again."

A shiver rattles your spine as you let release a quiet, shuddering sigh. That wasn't supposed to dash a sharp pang of arousal through you. But it did. Warily, you go over to him, stepping into the shadows and stopping at his feet. He's scarily calm, his whole demeanor reads danger. It feels like you've stepped into the lion's den to feed the big cats. In this case it being just one- the one and only alpha. With a high chance that he'll pounce any given second.

He gives you a single nod, patting his leg again. When you move to straddle his lap, he quickly grabs ahold of your hips and redirects you.

"Ah ah-" he guides you to sit directly on his thigh. "Right here." The words leaving his lips in a thick whisper as he sets you in place. With your legs on either side of his left one- your leg flinching when it brushes the cold metal chain dangling from his pants.

Instead of sitting down all the way, you hover over his tempting thigh. Which is hard considering how badly you want to sit and have his strong muscle pressed against your core. However, you do that, then he'll feel the wetness starting to soak through your bottoms and into his pants.

J notices you're straining to hold your weight up. "Don't be shy." He presses. "Get comfortable."

You couldn't resist anymore. Fuck it. You bit your lip to keep the whine from slipping past your lips as you settle down fully. The sheer relief of finally feeling him against your heated sex. But even that wasn't enough, you wanted more.

"That's it." He licks his lips in approval while you get situated.

Guiding his large hands down along your thighs, you shiver at the pleasing sensation of the leather rubbing your skin. His touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You shift your hips, granting you with the slightest dose of friction. You sigh, avoiding his burning stare. He removes one hand to tilt your face to his, "Look at me." You do, catching the malevolent look in his blackened eyes that only deepens as he registers the yearning in yours. "Missed me?" It leaves his beautifully mangled lips just above a mere hypnotic whisper.

"Maybe." You answer, recomposing yourself. "Alright, I'm here. Just like you wanted." Your arms slide over his broad shoulders to intertwine lazily behind his neck. "So, are you gonna tell me what made you wanna come all this way to see me?" Hopefully this conversation will help take your mind off the ache between your legs.

"Already told ya, dropped by for a visit. You're much better company than what I got back at the warehouse. Oh annnd-" Without breaking his gaze from you, he awkwardly reaches his right arm behind the chair. Bringing up a black backpack. "To drop this off." He places it over on the table behind you. The muffled thud of it landing on the surface giving you a light startle.

Curiously, you reach back to peak into the unsealed opening. "What is it?" Inside, you found there to be a bunch of stacked bills filled to the top.

"Fifty thousand, unmarked." J states blankly, gaze roaming over the now exposed skin of your waist. "Consider it a uh, small token of appreciation. Payment for the work ya put in, including an advance for the upcoming jobs. Gotta make sure my bunny's taken care of." He leans in, caressing your turned cheek with such a gentleness that blindsides you as much as the sack of cash.

Is this some sort of test? Does he think he can somehow buy you- buy your loyalty? He doesn't have to. Regardless, whatever the case may be you wouldn't take it anyways.

Closing the bag back up, you shake your head, "J, I.. I can't accept that." He retracts, taking the warmth of his breath with him as you turn your attention back to him. "We've had this discussion before, I don't want your money. I'm not in it for that."

"Ya say that, but take a good look around. This apartment, that uh, flat screen by the wall, these pretty little clothes you're wearing.. What gets ya all of this?" He motions towards the bag. "Cash currency. And how does one acquire it when flying under the radar? By completing underground tasks and getting paid for 'em. Is that not what you've done for me?"

"It is, but-"

"But what?" He cuts you off impatiently.

"Look," you sigh, gathering your answer. "I mean, I can appreciate the gesture. But really, I don't need your help. I have my own means of acquiring what I need for myself. I thought it was clear from the beginning that I'm not along for the pay."

He sits there registering everything from your candid tone to the lenient sliding of your hands down the lapels on his trench. Sees the strain in your movements from holding back, from pressing too hard. It reminds him of earlier at the complex, moments just before the job. How you held your breath as he let you comb your dainty fingers through his green strands. Though your hands are tough and you can land some pretty hard punches on others. They're still dainty to him. Delicate enough for him to snap very easily if he wanted. But he didn't. He doesn't.

Pestering as it may be to him, there's something that keeps him from wanting to injure you. From wanting to kill you. Something he ponders on with everyone else he encounters. However, the thought of you being injured or killed- be it by his hand or not- doesn't sit well with him. It just doesn't. And he wants to hate you for that. It makes him want to rid himself of you even more. If you had just gotten rid of her a long time ago, it wouldn't be such a nuisance to think about. He'd scorn himself. You could do it now, rip off the band-aid and get it over with. Why you? Why does the thought of suddenly not having you by his side, not getting to look at you, or not able to hear your voice anymore bother him?

Hurt you, he will. Ohh, expect that he will.

In ways that you crave, of course. In which you take pleasure in receiving as much as he enjoys inflicting. Where he can drink in the view of your gorgeous face twisted in blissful agony. Bask in the contorted melody of the moans and cries from your beautiful lips. Distractions, sweet distractions. He doesn't need them but he could sure go for one right now. Especially after the one thing he couldn't get off his mind since this morning. He didn't very well appreciate that you got to see him up so close in a vulnerable state. It makes him want to turn it around. Get even. Guess a distraction will do.

"I'm aware money serves no real purpose to ya," he states slyly, "but we never ah, actually went over the reason you tag along. Have we?"

"No," you admit, "no we haven't." It's becoming harder to concentrate when he's looking at you with that ravenous glare of his.

He purposely jerks his leg up against your core, making you go stiff. "I might not be a detective. But I'm certain ya know by now that I'm uh, quite perceptive when it comes to reading people."

"Yeah, no shit," you breathe out. He squeezes your thighs, and you almost whimper. Shifting against him a little harder, trying to play it off as though you were readjusting. It doesn't work, true to his word, he's very observant.

"Mhmm," he hums, "so go ahead, then. Rub yourself against my thigh." Your eyes widen and he releases a wheezy laugh. "Oh don't give me that. I feel how hot and wet your cunt is. Felt it the moment ya sat down." His hands slide under the openings of your shorts to grip the plush flesh of your ass. He's pleased to see you're not wearing panties. His fingers would've caught in them if that were the case. You moan softly when he gives you another squeeze, dragging you towards him. "Come on, bunny. Entertain me. Show me how bad you want me."

He's taunting you, but you don't have the time to care. Especially with the delicious pleasure of his thigh on your throbbing heat, this was too good to pass up. Steadying yourself with a grip on his shoulders, you start grinding your pussy on his upper leg. Despite the bothersome layers in between your bodies could you feel his warmth, and looking down his body spot his bulge growing under said layers.

Just as you were setting a pace, J snatched your hands from his shoulders. Locking your wrists directly behind you, giving him a better view of your compulsive grinding. You're still grinding. Back arched towards him, chest noticeably heaving while you wriggled in his grasp. Working hard at brushing your heated sex along his leg. He likes watching you squirm- took some wicked form of gratification in seeing you so desperate for him.

"Look at you- naughty little thing. Gettin' all worked up on my thigh. I'll say, desperate's a good look on ya." His other hand went to slide the thin straps of your top from your shoulders. Allowing the material to bunch around your waist, displaying your breasts. Slightly bouncing in time to your movements. He kneads the plump flesh roughly before moving to rub and pinch your peaked nipples.

"Oh my god J-" your eyes threaten to roll towards the back of your skull due to the cool, stimulating sensation. Moving your hips even faster. You're certainly making a slippery mess of his slacks now. Arousal continuously dripping from your cunt, seeping through your shorts and into the coarse fabric of his pants. He tilts his head to gaze where your pelvis meets his leg, taking note of this as well.

He lets go of your wrists to grab at your hair, grabbing the damp strands in a tight fist. "You're making a mess a my pants, doll." He scorns.

You release a breathy laugh, "You- ah- you were the one who we wanted me to to sit here." Throwing your hips forward sharply to further emphasize your point. Upon doing that, your knee rammed into something hard and sharp beneath his trench. "Ow!" The heavy fabric swallowed your leg so you couldn't see it, but you registered what it was based on the placement and impact. "Was that- your gun?"

"Yeah," he giddily acknowledges. Slipping his hold from your hair to retrieve the weapon from it's hidden spot, holding it directly in your view. "Sure is."

Despite the lack of proper lighting, did the gun still gleam. His trusty Glock 17- converted to a full-auto with an extended 33 round mag and all! It's unique, impractical, and no doubt sexy. Very much like him. It's even more deadly as it's difficult to control due to such an extremely high cyclic rate. Despite J being so trigger-happy, he handles the weapon well. He makes a show of racking the slide, the distinct clicking sound of it excites you. You rather like the way he handles it.

"Mrrroow," you purr with a flirtatious roll of your r's. "What'd you do that for- you gonna shoot me?"

"Tempted."

"Oh, and here I thought you enjoyed my company." You leaned forward and slowly licked along the slide of the piece.

J's hand tightened around the handle, with a look of bewilderment as he watched you lick a trail, retracting your tongue just before reaching the muzzle. He traces it down your jaw. "My, my sweetheart.." He presses it against your cheek and you lean further into it. Gazing at him- dare he say- amorously. You have a loaded gun to your head and you look practically lovesick. Now, how can he think about getting rid of you when you're looking at him like that? "Aren't you ah.. full of surprises."

J's hand goes back to your hair as he slides the piece over your lips, muttering a command. "Open." You comply and he shoves it into your mouth, instantly engulfing you with the taste of metal. "Now suck on my gun like you would my cock."

You work your tongue, taking as much as you can while you suck his gun. The slurping and sucking sounds absolutely lewd. Continuing the movement of your hips, your hand wraps around his wrist, holding the weapon there. Your eyes flutter shut and you moan around the barrel. Damn, the hold this man has on you. It should be embarrassing, how weak you are for him. Allowing him to put a gun in your mouth with his finger dangerously close to the trigger.

"Fuck babygirl, you sure are somethin' special."

Opening your eyes, your met with his lusty intense ones. Endless black pits piercing through you. Completely sinister, those of a man lacking any remorse. That's killed- murdered people- and will continue to do so with no intention to stop.

This doesn't bother you. After all, you're no saint. There's blood on your hands. Though that on yours consists of the most corrupt and tainted who wore masks to pretend they were honorable- it was still murder. Plain and simple. The only difference is you've got a target type, whereas the Joker doesn't. You won't justify it with some sense of morality. You even felt satisfactory in your actions, with no room left for regret. The same applies to him. Joker's not ashamed in who he is. He embraces it freely without a care. One of the many reasons you're drawn to him.

There's absolutely no shame in the desire coursing through you. You're showing him exactly what you want, everything you desire in that moment. And he wasn't displeased. His pants are becoming increasingly tighter around his hardening cock. But he won't address that just yet.

"Just like that, keep rolling those hips. Rub that needy little pussy on my leg.."

You give another moan and he snarls. Tearing the gun from your mouth, tossing it aside to tug you in. Crashing his mouth against yours in a fiery kiss that's all teeth and tongue. You're rutting harder against him, so close to letting go.

When your hand slides down to graze his erection, he quickly swats it away. "Ah ah- hands to yourself, doll."

"Please J, I want t-to touch you. I want to feel you." You try to convince him, displaying your best attempt at puppy eyes.

"Want huh? Well we don't always get what we want." He chuckles mockingly, pressing his fingers against your clit. Briefly circling on the swollen bud over the fabric, then pulling away. "Perhaps if you're good for me I'll reward ya. But you'll have to earn it."

You groan in response to his offer, grinding your clit even harder. When J grips and starts guiding your hips, you lose it. "Oh fuck- I'm close," you rasp.

"Who said you can cum?" He growls against your lips, biting into your bottom one. That almost had you cumming on the spot. "I don't ah, don't remember ya asking if ya can, doll."

With each rock of your hips you plead, "please, please, fuck- please. Can I cum?"

He ghosts his hand up your sternum to wrap firmly around your neck. Tearing you away from him to stare into your eyes. Very much pleased with the sight before him. "You can cum. Keep those gorgeous eyes open, I want you to look at me while you do." He flexes his thigh and squeezes his hold on your throat almost to where you can't breath.

With that, your orgasm washes over you- digging your nails into his wrist as you release a strangled cry through your constricted windpipe. Your walls contracting around nothing while you cum straight through your shorts, all over his leg. That malevolent look in his eyes has you still rutting to where it starts to hurt due to the overstimulation.

"That's it bunny.."

You drink in his husky praise as you come down from your high. Basking in his warmth that betrays the coldness in his eyes.

Before you know it, he's moving you. Bringing you to your feet with him, he stands behind you. Pushing you face down into the into the cushioned back of the seat. He yanks the soaked shorts down your legs along with your top, exposing your ass and glistening pussy. You bite your lip hearing him undo his buckle. He takes his length into his hand, rubbing his thick head along your folds. Teasing you as it brushes your sensitive clit. His precum adding extra slick against your dripping heat. You whimper, pushing back, unsure whether you want him to continue teasing or enter you already. The fact that he was still mostly clothed and you were completely bare made it even worse.

"So eager for me," he hisses, running his leather clad hand up your spine to grip your hair. Pushing his thick head into your aching hole, further torturing you- going in and out, in and out..

"Fuck please-" you mewl, "Fuck me J- I need your cock inside me!"

A groan rumbles in his chest, your shameless cries have his cock twitching with satisfaction. "Mmh, what a dirty mouth ya got, doll. I like that. Looks like you'll be getting your reward after all."

He thrusts his length into your pussy, knocking the wind from your lungs. Allowing you a moment to adjust before picking up a rapid pace. His cock stretching you amazingly as he pounds mercilessly into you. Fucking you rough and hard from behind.

"You ah- take my cock so well miss l/n." He remarks sarcastically between thrusts. Though you can't see it, you can practically visualize the arrogant smirk plastered across his mangled cheeks. Looking over your shoulder, you shoot him a glare. Sure enough, there's the smirk. His hand smacks your ass, earning a yelp from you, and he cackles wildly. The bastard.

J continued to tug on your hair as he fucked you relentlessly. Telling you how good your pussy feels around his cock, how perfect your ass and body are, and how much he likes the special, filthy little noises you make just for him. He was egging you on, driving you to the brink of madness.

Each time you were on the verge of an orgasm would he halt. Painfully tearing that sweet release away from you. He did that quite a few times, you lost count after 4 or 5. You were too exhausted, too needy for that final wave of ecstasy to hold track. Tears streamed down your flushed cheeks, your legs are growing tired, and your throat is hoarse from shouting and moaning.

The neighbors probably hate you now. Surely they're well aware of what's happening in here. Fortunately, they don't know who the cause of your rowdy noises is. Before you could fully shout his name would Joker quickly find a way to muffle it. J is fine, but you could only cry out "Jok-" before his hand sealed your mouth. He also didn't want them finding out that The Joker was in your apartment. Least not today. Another time.

Drawing near another release, you start to plead. Frantically rocking back to meet his unforgiving thrusts. "Ahh- J, please- I can't take it anymore, let me cum!"

"Oh ya wanna cum, huh?" He roughly kneads the plush of your ass. The strong amount of willpower this man has is beyond you. But even he's growing frustrated with holding back. He will not let go until he gets what he craves from you. "How bad do ya need it?"

"I need it so bad- please J- can I cum? Please, let me cum on your cock!" Your whines poured out.

"Now that's convincing," he groans. This time he doesn't stop or slow his momentum. Instead he advances harder, pounding into you even faster than before. He's finally going to let you cum. "Cum for me bunny. Come on, be a good girl and cum on my cock, hm." He reaches around to rub tight circles on your clit. Giving you that extra push over the edge.

Your back arches wildly and your walls clamp tightly around his cock. Pulling him deeper into you as he chases his own release. He surges forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, no doubt drawing blood. You cry out in delicious pain and he releases. Groaning against your sweat slicked skin, shooting thick spurts of his hot cum inside you.

You collapse softly onto the seat, catching your breath. Joker says nothing while he slows his, gaze roaming over you as if he were admiring his work. He runs his hands through his hair, pushing the green strands from his face. You close your eyes for a moment as exhaustion quickly starts to draw in your spent body.

Upon reopening them you notice he's staring at you rather absently. Skimming all the thoughts constantly running through his busy mind. When you giggle, it breaks him from his fog.

"What's so funny, doll?" He tilts his head playfully.

"Nothing," you reply tiredly as he fixes up his slacks. Looking at the large wet patch running down the length of his upper leg. Most of it somewhat dry now, but still there. "It's just, this wasn't how I expected my night would turn out at all."

"Turned out a lot better I presume?" His tongue darts out to graze his lips while he loops his belt.

"Well, despite the fact you broke into my apartment, I suppose it did." You laugh in agreement. Using your discarded shorts to wipe yourself down briefly. You'll properly clean up later with another shower, right now you're drained of any energy.

You grabbed a small blanket from the couch next to the sofa chair in which you're laying. Shifting to lay more comfortably with the fuzzy cover shielding your naked body from the chill of the room. You offered to clean and better dry out your juices from his pants, but he said he'd take care of it. J had the rest of the night to take care of things before his next big job. Unfortunately, with that being said, you knew that it meant he wouldn't stay much longer with you tonight. You understood but it didn't stop you from pondering- does the man ever sleep?

Does chaos ever take a break?

Questions like those and more swarmed through your mind as you shut your eyes. Ready to drift off into sleep. "Hey uh, J?" You whisper.

"Hm?" He hums coming to lean over you.

"I'm still not accepting that money." You remark tiredly with a half grin.

He caresses the side of your face, swiping his thumb over your lips which are still slightly smeared with his red paint. He doesn't get how you could be comfortable enough to let yourself fall asleep around him. No one is ever at ease with him when they're fully awake, no one would dare attempt to let their guard down like such knowing The Joker is around. Yet, here you are, making it look so easy. "Well that's too bad, cause I ain't takin' it back with me."

"You leave it, then it's just going to sit here. Because I'm not spending any of it."

"Shush doll," he chuckles quietly, patting your cheek. "Get some sleep now, huh?"

Your smile sweetens, and he pulls away. Without another word from either of you, you allow for exhaustion to completely take over.

End of part 11. Ahh, I started out really good with this but towards the end I just wanted it to be done and move on to more exciting parts. So yeah, more to come!