#i never drew men. or if i did it was like once a year or something

[getosugurusbangs]

a flower named “you”

[slumbergoblin]

There was supposed to be a second half to this, but I can't wrap my brain around how I would draw it :(

[lady-djarin]

independent contractor

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

fully inspired by this post

warnings/tags: no outbreak au, no sarah mentioned, but we can always pretend she’s at collage or something, infidelity by reader(reader’s hubby is an asshole), contractor!joel, age gap (late 20s/mid 50s) , masterbation (m), smelling of panties(?), sexting, oral (receiving), p in v (unprotected- don’t do that!!) general smut so children leave!! mdni 18+

word count: 6.1k

a/n: i understand not everyone is going to dig the infidelity thing so i get that, if you are not into that please just scroll on, thank you :)

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It was a beautiful dress but damn if it wasn’t complicated, the back had all these complicated buttons and clasps to hold it closed. You had managed to get yourself into the thin fabric but just as you needed your husband to close the dress, he had conveniently disappeared. He had been dressed for the party for a while and had been running around the house trying to organize the vendors. It was all for some charity thing he was throwing through his company. He was the CEO of some big company that even after 5 years of marriage you still didn’t understand. Something to do with finance? Maybe.

“Hon? Are you up here?” You huffed as you realized he was not in ear shot. Your husband had a habit of doing this, leaving right when you needed him in favor of something he needed.

You can now admit to yourself that the marriage you were in was a little rushed. Ok, maybe more than rushed. You were engaged within three months of meeting and married in less than a year. The first year of marriage was amazing, he would shower you with gifts and trips and practically worshiped the ground you walk on. It now felt like he only did this to rope you in. He began to take multiple long ‘work trips’ every month and you soon found evidence of an affair (or multiple). Once, there was long hair all over his clothes that was definitely not his or yours along with red lipstick smudged on a white shirt. Was he not even trying to hide it or did he just not care?

You had always told yourself that ‘you’d never be with a cheater’ and you wouldn’t fall prey to men who used women. Well, after a quick marriage, that you begged your parents to go along with, you felt like you had nowhere else to go. Your parents would not be happy and would surely find a way to blame you, and all your friends were also his. So, you kept your head high as your husband did as he pleased. You were now a forgotten trophy on the shelf he felt didn’t need polishing anymore. So you did as you pleased, with his money. One of the things you liked spending his money on was renovations to the house that you were usually alone in.

Currently, you were renovating the other side of the house to become a library/craft area for yourself. The contractor was actually at the house doing a walk through before the party got started. He happened to hear you calling for your husband from down the hall and came to your rescue.

“Sorry to disturb you ma’am, I think he went downstairs,” he was looking down when he first walked in, probably to make sure you were decent. What a gentleman.

“Of course he did, uhg,” you fumbled with the clasps behind your back and failed to make a difference.

“I can go get ‘em for ya?”

“No that’s ok Joel, thank you,” Joel Miller, one half of Miller Construction. He had been so great from the beginning, knowing exactly what you wanted for the library, seeing your vision immediately. He was very much the southern Texan gentleman, ‘yes ma’am, no ma’am’, no matter how many times you told him you hated it. “and please, Joel. I’m not a ma’am.” Your smile drew his eyes up.

”My mama would kill me if she heard me call ya’ anythin’ but, ma’am,” he stepped into the room, already coming to help even with your refusal. “I’m more delicate than ya think, im sure i can handle some buttons,” he came up behind you in the mirror and his soft touch on your shoulder blade made you inhale. You held the dress against your chest making sure he had room to fasten the small clasps. You caught his gaze in the mirror that was fixated on the dip in the front of the dress.

He matched your smile.

His surprisingly nimble fingers secure every last fastening and it feels like you can hear your own heart beating out of your chest. It had been a long time since you were looked at the way Joel was looking at you. He was a handsome man, big and rugged but soft in his features. He had these deep brown eyes that you could get lost in and lips that would make a nun blush. He was affecting you in ways your husband hadn’t done in years, he was turning you on. A complete stranger was turning you on and you didn’t really feel guilty.

Did that make you a terrible person?

You know what, fuck it. Your husband cheated and left you alone in life, you were entitled to some flirting every now and then.

“There ya are darlin’,” dear lord, his voice. The deep southern drawl made your panties wet.

“Thank you… Joel.”

”Enjoy the party,” watching him walk away was the hardest thing all night, aside from having to laugh at all your husband’s bad jokes all night. All night your mind was occupied by the sexy contractor.

~

It had been about a week since the party and the library reno was well underway. Joel and his team, including the other half of Miller Construction, his brother Tommy, were working tirelessly. In that last week your husband had been in and out of the house at weird times. On this particular day he left early in the morning without saying so much as a word to you. You used the day to mope around on your phone or read but what kept stealing your attention was the attractive contractor.

His team wasn’t around so the house was truly empty, the quiet was starting to drive you mad. As you wandered up the winding staircase, you found a sweatshirt draped over the railing. That damn husband, he leaves shit everywhere. Without thinking much of it, you threw the hoodie on as you found the library under construction.

The sweatshirt smells like sawdust and something distinctly man. That's different from what your husband normally smells like. The thought of him buying new cologne for some mistress almost made your blood boil, if you truly loved him anymore it would.

The library was really starting to come together, the plans on the table laid out the new shelves and built in table being put in and you dreamed of the days you would spend in there. The rest of your day was spent inside, no husband in sight so you did what you wanted, camped out on the couch with snacks galore and bad tv. Your husband eventually came home, after midnight, to find you passed out on the couch. You were roused by him, he woke you to send you off to bed. He used to carry you.

“Hey, get to bed, it's late… New hoodie?” Your eyebrows narrowed and you looked at him confused.

“What? It’s yours?”

”No it's not, I don't work at ‘Miller Construction’…” his tone felt like sandpaper against your skin. Also, have you been wearing Joel’s sweatshirt this whole time?

~

You wore it almost every day. Refusing to even wash it, it would get rid of the smell. The smell of him. It was like a drug, anytime your husband left you alone in that big house you wrapped yourself in Joel.

The rumble of the engine told you someone was at the house, but the deep southern drawl was what told you it was Joel. You felt giddy, like a girl with her first crush. You were already wearing the sweatshirt because you were expecting him today. He was leading his team of guys up to the library, telling them what to get started on. You made your way up there, under the guise of greeting Joel and asking if they need anything. In reality you wanted to see his reaction to you wearing his clothes.

“Morning Joel, you guys need anything?”

His eyes nearly popped out of his head. He noticed right away, scanning the hoodie and his gaze set your skin on fire. You felt your cheeks heat up as he stepped closer, the air was thick with tension and you immediately felt the mood change. His lips curved up in the corner slightly as he lowered his voice.

He looked handsome as always, the salt and pepper in his beard and hair was somehow very attractive to you. He was older for sure but you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t part of the attraction.

“Nice sweatshirt you got there…,” you could practically feel his heart beating just inches from you. “Miller.”

You had to strangle down a breath hearing his voice drop an octave like that, teasing you. This was real… Joel Miller, your contractor, was flirting with you. And you liked it, a lot. Not only the blatantly wrong flirting but the fact that your husband could come home at any time. It was making your skin flush with arousal and it felt like he could sense it somehow.

“I can wash it and get it back to you,” you wanted to gauge how into this he was. He did not disappoint.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jesus christ.

“Keep it sugar, looks better on ya anyway,” he left you there, finally with enough room to breathe without inhaling his intoxicating cologne. Holy shit, holy shit!

Your mind never strayed far from the older man, you seemed to fixate on the memory of him crowding you in your own home. The rest of the day went smoothly, you went about your business as the Miller Construction crew worked on your new library. You could hear the men working upstairs and every time you heard that one specific rumbling southern drawl your heart stopped for just a beat.

You were screwed.

~

Joel’s day could not have been longer, though he was the only one that noticed. The rest of the crew worked through the day, trying to get their tasks done sooner rather than later to be able to go home on time. Meanwhile, he was thinking about the pretty wife of the man who is paying him. He knew it was wrong but damn if it didn’t feel good. He saw the way your husband acted around you the last few weeks, he was engaged in every conversation except ones with you. Joel could even tell that the man was cheating, he clearly wasn’t trying to hide it. That’s really the only reason he was letting himself indulge with you, that and you seemed to be on the same page as him.

He knew he was in trouble, he had already memorized your features, your lips haunting him most of all. Every time you spoke he was entranced, unable to look away from your mouth. This was so wrong, he was working for you and your husband. He couldn’t help it, you were perfect, everything he could ever want. He dreamed about feeling you under him and that thought kept him half hard in his jeans all day.

By the time he was set to leave he felt like if he didn’t get himself taken care of he was going to explode. All he could think about was you in that damn hoodie, and how he would bend you over with it on. He knew it would smell like you now, it would smell like both of you. As he hopped into his truck he was so distracted that he didn’t see you coming down the driveway towards his car.

“Hey Joel…” Fuck. “I just wanted to get this back to you before I forget.” The gray fabric already smelled like you from where you held it by his car window. Why were you giving it back? He told you to keep it.

”Oh thanks darlin’,” it wasn’t lost on him how your eyes sparkled at this nickname. You were in the most delicious little shorts, showing just enough of the tops of your thighs as you walked back into the house. Fuck, he felt like such a dirty old man. You were so much younger and bright and kind. He felt like he could never deserve you.

He threw the hoodie on the passenger seat as he felt another surge of guilt and arousal settle into this stomach. Just as he was about to pull onto the street, he noticed something much darker than the hoodie sticking out of the pocket. He pulled it to reveal a pair of lacy black panties.

His heart nearly stopped. He would have never expected this, a sweet girl like you leaving her panties in her contractors sweatshirt. His jeans became even tighter than before as he pulled the panties up to his face.

He really was a dirty old man.

They had clearly been worn and it made his head spin, they smelled like heaven and you, he worried he might cum at the smell alone. He needed to get home.

As he raced home with your underwear gripped in his hand, he battled his thoughts. He knew it was wrong to mess around with a married woman but he felt different with you already. You were like the light at the end of his very lonely tunnel, no one ever looked at him the way you did. He practically tore his front door off the hinges as he rushed up to his bedroom. He felt like a teenager with an uncontrollable boner trying to find release.

The black lace was tight in his grip as he shucked his jeans off, the constricting fabric making his blood boil. He pulled himself free and the first touch to his hard length caused a gravely moan to slip from his lips. Tension and heat gathered in his stomach as he stroked himself. His fingers were rough as they circled his weeping tip but he needed to feel relief. He couldn’t even get himself into the shower, he just dropped onto the edge of his bed and never stopped moving his hand.

Those dark panties were teasing him, you were teasing him. You had to be, maybe you were making fun of his obvious crush. No, there was no way you would have grinned like you did if you didn’t feel the same way. It was an offering, a way for you to make a move without being apparent.

Holy shit. You wanted him.

That made his lower muscles spasm suddenly and his orgasm started to barrel down his spine. He pictured you in your small shorts earlier that day and he lost it. A deep groan escaped his throat as he spilled all over his knuckles. He pumped until he was oversensitive, his whole body reacting until he fell back into the bed.

All night his brain juggled wanting nothing but you and telling himself it was wrong. And it was wrong, at least on paper, of course he shouldn’t be messing with a client's wife. Even if she wanted him back.

~

Last time you saw Joel outside his car was almost a week ago. It was driving you crazy. You worried that he took it the wrong way or didn’t even see them. You couldn’t decide if you should be mortified, nervous, turned on or all the above. Then your phone went off.

Usually the texts between you and Joel were regarding what materials or paint you wanted. Now it was something totally different.

5:04PM >Joel: Sorry I have not been to check on the progress of the library personally. There was an emergency at another job.

>Joel: Also, thank you for my gift.

Only someone like Joel would thank you for sneaking him a pair of your panties.

5:09PM <You: im glad you liked them

<You: i was a little worried…

Your heart was thundering in your chest. Your husband was right across the couch, engrossed in his baseball game more than you, per usual. Was it wrong to like this so much, the fact that he had no idea you were texting another man right now, in front of him.

5:12PM >Joel: Why would you be worried? It's the best gift anyone’s ever given me.

>Joel: Any man should be so lucky.

Your pulse kicked up again somehow. He was making it all sound so meaningful. Maybe it was to him. Maybe he never took it the wrong way. Maybe he took it exactly the right way.

5:14PM <You: did you use them?

There was a pause for a few minutes.

5:20PM >Joel: Jesus…

>Joel: I’m at work, darlin.

5:22PM <You: so?

5:25PM >Joel: You got a mouth on you, huh?

5:26PM <You: and i know how to use it

5:28PM >Joel: We might just have to have you prove yourself then.

5:30PM <You: just tell me when

5:31PM >Joel: You are dangerous, angel.

>Joel: I have them in my pocket right now.

>Joel: I couldn’t help myself.

Jesus, this man was going to be the death of you. He was carrying your panties around in his pocket, while he was at work. Your thighs instantly squeezed together and it was at that moment you decided.

Fuck it, he made you feel good and your husband clearly didn’t care about your needs. You needed a divorce, and not just because of Joel. It was about you finally doing what’s good for you.

Suddenly an idea came to you, admititly a very bad idea but again, fuck it.

5:36PM <You: hey, do you have any plans tonight?

5:37PM >Joel: You know darlin, I don’t.

Thank god.

5:38PM <You: what’s your address?

5:38PM >Joel: 7 Oak Village Rd. I get home at 7.

5:38PM <You: see you then

You needed a plan. Your husband wouldn’t really care if you made last minute plans, you just needed a reason. Since he barely takes the time to pay attention to you, he definitely doesn’t know your friends very well.

“Hey, I know this is super random, but my friend Ashley”(totally a fake friend) “just got dumped, Isn’t that awful? She wants me to come over so she’s not alone. Would you care if I spent the night with her?”

It wasn’t really an odd thing, you spent the night with friends before. You should feel bad for lying so easily like this but the thrill of it all was keeping you going. You knew he wouldn’t object but he barely even looked at you. A quick glance back before he focused on the tv again as he waved you off.

”Yea, I don’t care… Johnny’s coming over anyway. Have fun.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes, you knew you should be upset but you were too used to it at this point. You went upstairs to pack a bag and get ready. It had been a long time since a booty call and you forgot how giddy it made you feel. Knowing you were going to a man's house who actually wanted you there and actually wanted you.

Once you showered and finished packing, you went down to head out the garage. Apparently while you were upstairs Johnny and many more came over and had taken over the couch as they all debated over some play in the game. You tried to get your husband's attention, calling his name and waving at him. Anger boiled over in your gut. Just another reason not to feel guilty about tonight.

You loaded up into the car and pulled out of the massive driveway without a regret in your heart. This was the beginning of a new chapter and it felt right in so many ways. Your skin was buzzing with arousal, you had been thinking of Joel’s thick hands that would soon be on you, throughout your whole shower.

Before you left the neighborhood you sent Joel a quick text.

7:13PM <You: on my way

7:14PM >Joel: Can’t wait.

You felt the heat creep up into your cheeks and down your neck. Your nerves did start to wear on you though, all the usual stuff; Will he like me? Do I look nice? Did I miss a spot shaving my legs? You decided to wear a thin silk slip dress/nightgown under a baggy zip up hoodie. You figured it was a good way to look ‘sloppy’ enough that your husband wouldn’t care, if he even looked your way. You made the short drive over to Joel’s neighborhood and your nerves seemed to melt away as you got closer. It was odd, normally this kind of thing would send your pulse skyrocketing but the thought of seeing Joel made you calm, almost serene. He definitely made your head swim with giddy arousal though.

You found the beautiful house marked ‘No. 7’ and knocked on the perfectly painted door. Of course his house was gorgeous, he was a contractor. Only moments went by until the door was pulled open by that very sexy looking contractor. His brown curls were slightly messy on his head and he wore some kind of faded shirt and loose sweatpants that hung way too low. You couldn’t look away.

“Hi darlin’,” he rubbed his neck and his cheeks went red. He was nervous.

“Hi,” you couldn’t help the smile spreading on your face.

“Come in, here let me.” He gently took your bag from your shoulder and guided you to the couch where he had a bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table. The inside of his home was just as beautiful as the outside; the couch was large and comfortable, there was quiet music playing in the corner from an old school record player and books and plants littering the shelves. He came back and poured you both a glass and clinked the two together before you each took a long drink. He finally sat down and you turned so your feet were up against his leg, quickly feeling comfortable with him.

“I wasn’t sure if you would be ok… with me coming over.”

“Why?” God his southern accent was like honey.

“I don’t know, maybe it was…I was too forward.” You were sure why you felt the need to bring this up, maybe clear the air somehow. “I’m divorcing him, I can't do it anymore.” Saying it out loud made your heart lurch.

“I get it sweetheart, it ain’t fair that he treats ya’ that way.” You were leaning into each other at this point, unable to stop the magnetic pull between you. His arm was draped over the back of the couch, his hand near your shoulder. He started to entwine his finger in your hair, his big brown eyes danced over your face and it made you almost want to shy away from his gaze.

“You don’t think I'm a terrible person?” You looked into his eyes finally, wanting to know how he felt about you, how he felt about this.

His fingers left your hair as his thumb brushed over your lips. “Y’not a terrible anythin’ darlin’,” then he moved.

He was on you before you could take another breath. He slotted his lips over yours, his tongue sliding between them. He devoured you, stole the breath from your lungs. It was all consuming the way he kissed you, it felt like he was starved and you were all he wanted to consume. He sat back and pulled you with him, your legs wrapping around his hips leaving your core right in his lap. His hand cupped both cheeks as you pressed yourself fully to him, your hips grinding down into his. Your baggy sweatshirt was obstructing your skin from touching his, you needed more and the fabric was too warm.

You leaned back and you finally got a good look at his face as you pulled the zipper down. His lips were swollen and red and his eyes were almost all pupils. After ripping the bulky fabric off he finally moved his hands to the rest of you. He traced your arms down to where your hands laid on your thighs, he then lightly ran his fingers up your back over the thin fabric of your nightgown.

“You are so… fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” He sounded like he couldn’t catch his breath and yours caught in your throat. He pulled you into him again but it still wasn’t enough skin. As his soft lips worked over your pulse and his rough beard scratched at your neck you knew you needed more of him. You groaned as you pulled away again and tried to pull his shirt off yourself but he was just large enough to make it difficult. He smirked at you as he leaned forward to remove the shirt and your skin finally made contact with his.

You both groaned as you came together once again, finally able to feel his warm solid chest against yours. He explored your body again as your mouths did the same, he kissed down your neck, over your shoulders and between your breasts. The thin straps holding up the nightgown were quickly pulled down, revealing your chest to him. He lavished you and you felt the vibration of his groans as he licked the crevice between your breasts before closing his mouth around a peak and sucking. Your whole body arched into his, your fingers carding through his hair which made him groan deeper.

“Fuck— Joel,” your skin was on fire and you were lightheaded. You knew somewhere deep down you should feel bad or guilty but it was the furthest thing from your mind. He made you feel like you were floating, your soul somehow detached from your body.

He pulled back from you, just enough to catch his breath and look into your eyes. His hands however never stopped roaming your skin. His pupils were blown wide, almost none of the deep brown in his eyes were left now. He dipped his head and dove back into your skin, his lips attaching to your neck and it made you groan and your core clench.

He groaned into you and you felt it rumble through his chest. You felt like you were losing grip on reality, you couldn’t tell someone your own name if they asked. It was all worth it because you were lost in the pleasure of feeling him under you, but you needed more of him.

You dropped to the floor, the carpet soft under your knees. You tried to pull Joel’s pants down his hips, almost frantically as if you didn’t see all of him now you would die.

“Hol’on darlin’,” he kind of giggled as he slipped the fabric off his hips and he fell back onto the couch and looked down at you with his mouth hanging open in awe. You met his gaze before looking down at his hard length.

Fuck, he was big.

You lowered your mouth to him, teasing your lips over his silky skin. His breath caught in his chest. You ran your tongue up and his hand came up to hold the back of your head, not to force but support. Eventually his fingers grabbed into your hair when you wrapped your lips around him and pulled him in. You felt his rough moan reverberate into your body every time you dropped your head. It was difficult to take him all at once but you had to feel him, everywhere.

“Fuck, oh my—gooood…” he dropped his head back onto the couch but you knew he was watching you, his eyes never left you. You felt your arousal spread between your thighs knowing you were driving him mad. Before you even got a chance to really do much Joel pulled you up on your feet. He stayed seated and looked up at you through his lashes and your heart stopped for a second seeing him below you like this made your stomach dip and your panties wet.

His eyes were blazing a path over your body, nightgown bunched around your waist with your entire chest exposed. You should be cold but you felt like you were on fire. He ran his palms up the backside of your legs until he reached the lacy fabric of your underwear. His eyes never left yours as he slowly pulled the fabric off your hips and over your ass, his hands touching skin the whole way down and helped you step out of it. That swooping feeling settled into your stomach again as he slid his fingers back up the inside of your leg until he reached your hot center, eyes never leaving yours. You both moaned as he dipped into the slick that coated your skin.

“Mhmmm, this all f’me?” He looked at you with a mix of arrogance and pure desire as he moved his fingers in a slow circular motion. It was made easy by just how wet you were, you didn’t know if you had ever been this wet before. That’s the effect he had on you, or maybe this is just a primal kind of desire that you never had with your soon-to-be ex-husband.

Either way you were spiraling fast. You knew once you two came together you wouldn’t last long. You needed to feel him, it was driving you mad.

Joel seemed to be taking it slow, which you can admire as this is very new and he probably wanted to make sure you’re comfortable. While you admired him taking the time to make you comfortable you couldn’t wait anymore. As he kissed your chest and his fingers kept moving in agonizing circles across your sensitive bundle while you straddled his lap. His hard length rubbed against your center and both of your bodies shook with desire.

He groaned as he wasn’t expecting you to be on him so fast. His hands ran along every inch, taking you into him and never wanting to let go. You rocked your hips and slowly dragged your core across his length causing you both to stutter and moan. You were sick of waiting for the thing you had been thinking about non stop for weeks.

“Will you… make me feel good?” Your voice was squeaky and horse from all the moans and his eyes fluttered at your request.

“Oh darlin’… that bastard ain’t taking care of you huh? When’s the last time you were properly touched?”

You turned your eyes away from him, slightly embarrassed that he was able to tell that so easily. “Uhm… a while.” He gave you a pointed look, clearly not liking your non-answer. “A… a year,” his eyes widened at your admission. “Over a year…” You cringed at your final answer. You weren’t proud of the fact that it had been so long but you haven't been attracted to your husband in a long time.

”Oh… you poor thing,” he bracketed your cheeks with his large hands. “Don’t worry darlin’.”

Joel was losing composure quickly, he was ready to give you everything you deserved. His nimble fingers reached between your bodies and slid along your center, drawing a wanton moan from your chest. You ground your hips into his hand trying to create the friction he wasn’t giving you. He slowly spread your lips and ran his fingers gingerly over your clit causing your body to shake in his grasp.

“Hmm… y’all wet f’me?” His southern drawl was making his lust-drunk words slur together deliciously. The scruff of his mustache scratched at your neck but his lips and tongue soothed over the sensitive skin.

“Mmhmm… Joel— oh god please,” you sounded just as lost. Your voice cracked and your hips never stopped moving over his hand, desperate for attention.

“Don’t worry darlin’, I gotcha,” he quickly flipped you and your back hit the plush couch. A soft ‘oomf’ escaped your lips and Joel was mesmerized as you lay beneath him. “Oh look at’cha, you’re so pretty baby.”

His words were like hot honey, warm and sweet. You shifted under him and wrapped your fingers around his hard shaft and the groan that reverberated through his chest made your breath catch in your throat. You kept stroking him as his fingers found your wet center again, spreading your release over your puffy folds. As you wrapped your legs around his hips, you guided his crown to your core and felt the sweet stretch of him entering you slowly.

He paused for a few moments and looked like he was trying to center himself again before pushing his hips fully into yours and held himself there. A deep rumbling groan broke through his lips as he began to move, the stretch was making you nervous at first but you felt more and more comfortable as he kept moving. When he started to rub your neglected clit, a bolt of pleasure shot down your spine causing your back to arch and nails to dig into his arms.

“Such a good girl, baby… ngh— you-you feel so good,” his syrupy words made your head feel fuzzy and limbs heavy. His hips started to snap into yours at a harsher pace and his fingers spent up between you in tandem. Your orgasm was quickly approaching with his movements, faster than you expected. Was this the norm for people with healthy relationships and sex lives, real attraction? You couldn’t even finish the thought before Joel sped up his fingers and started to hammer into you. He was surrounding you, hovering over with those dark eyes and large shoulders. The smell of him alone was about to send you over the edge, he smelled like soap and a little like sawdust, all over man. His voice broke you out of your hazy state.

“You’re gonna— cum for me darlin’, I—I can’t hold on…much longer baby.” His voice was rough and demanding and almost like your body listened, you fell over the edge. The lewd moans and shouts of Joel’s name coming out of our mouth surprised you both. At feeling you cum around him, Joel lost all of his remaining control. He stilled inside you and you felt his muscles contract in his release.

“Oh fu—fuck! oh my… god,” he slumped against you and you welcomed his weight. You both settled into the couch as you rubbed your arms up and down his back. “I’m— I’m sorry darlin’, it's been a while. Normally I'd have… taken my time.”

He sounded almost nervous, it made you smile.

“Joel, stop. You have nothing to apologize for.”

”I’ll redeem myself next time.”

Next time? He wants there to be a next time!

You smiled to yourself and hummed at the content feeling of being under him while he still filled you.

You drifted to a place of half consciousness and woke up in, what you were pretty sure was the morning to the smell of bacon. You turned over in a bed, Joel's bed, to find it empty. You looked around the room and found it to be just like Joel, cozy and masculine. You located a shirt of his and threw it on before heading down the stairs to find a very sexy shirtless Joel standing in his kitchen, flipping pancakes.

“Mornin’ sleepy head,” his voice was thick with sleep and you walked up to him at the stove. With one large arm he pulled you into his side and kissed the top of your head. A slow smile spread on your lips at the familiarity of it all, the warmness of having someone to take care of you like this, emotionally. Something you almost never had with your husband, soon to be ex.

“Joel… thank you, for this.”

“What’cha mean darlin?”

“Taking care of me. Letting me come over last night.”

“Hey, look at me,” he tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. “Anytime you need me, I’m here.”

You tried to blink away the tears gathering on your lashes but one managed to slip, Joel’s thumb catching it before it reached your cheek. Time felt like it stopped as you leaned in to each other, lips pressing together as you moaned at the feeling.

The day was spent lazing in bed and talking about all the things you two would do when your divorce was finalized. The idea of divorce was the scariest thing in the world when you first thought about it, but now, knowing Joel would be with you every step of the way… you couldn’t wait.

[deebris]

Between us

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: This would be the first night you and Bruce would spend together as father and daughter, something you had been eagerly looking forward to. Everything seemed peaceful during dinner until the main singer of the restaurant, Bruce's ex-girlfriend from many years ago, decided to show up and stir things up.

Warnings: Mentions cheating, discrimination agaisnt people with physical disabilities (not from Bruce, not from you), a bit of angst, fluff at the end.

Word count: 5.2k

Note: This is part of The Mysterious Visitor universe, but for those who haven’t read it: the reader is Damian’s twin (though there are no physical descriptions of her), and Talia kept it a secret from Bruce even after her son became Robin. The reader began living with the Batfamily at the age of 13.

You smiled as you reached the last step of the staircase and heard the melody of Dream a little dream of me being played. This restaurant wasn’t very different from those you used to visit with your mother, but it was still different in many ways. It was a large hall, full of yellow lights and whispers from the various conversations happening simultaneously, but what caught your attention most was the singer. Her voice was powerful, yet as soft as a feather. Her arms moved gracefully, as if she knew precisely where to guide them.

Today, it was just you and Bruce, but you had barely entered the place before several men in fine suits began greeting him and making jokes, most of which you didn’t understand. Your smaller figure went unnoticed, and you made no effort for this, staying in your personal silence while you admired the chandeliers and walls with wide eyes. The place wasn’t discreet and was obviously very expensive.

You liked observing people. Many beautiful young women were laughing, but what drew your attention were the unique hairstyles and dresses each of them wore. As Bruce tried to follow the waiter to your table, someone would rise from their own seat every few seconds to talk to him. Yet despite all the handshakes, he never let go of your hand. Until an older lady noticed the little girl Bruce Wayne had brought along:

“And who is this young lady, Bruce?” she asked with a warm smile, and you finally stopped looking around to focus on the people your father was conversing with.

“This is my daughter, Ophelia,” he said, calling the woman by her first name with familiarity. Bruce had a certain affection for her, as she had been a friend of his mother when she was alive.

“Oh! Martha would have been so happy to see the two of you.” She placed a hand on her chest and gently stroked your chin. “And where have you been hiding her?”

“She lived with her mother, but she’s staying with me now,” Bruce replied, beaming at the lady, who excitedly called her husband and son, likely around your father’s age, to come greet you. They were among the few people you truly enjoyed meeting.

It didn’t take long for you two to finally reach your table. Bruce pulled out a chair for you to sit, then took his own. The waiter immediately poured wine for him, while your glass remained filled only with water.

“Do you like the music?” he suddenly asked, noticing how you were staring at the musicians.

“I do,” you said, starting to fiddle with the napkins. “I tried playing the flute once,” you mentioned, and Bruce loved when you initiated conversations without realizing it. It made it easier for him to learn more about you, and in a way, it was an endearing trait of your personality.

“Tried? Why did you give up?” He kept the conversation going, relaxed in his chair and entirely focused on every small expression you made.

“I didn’t have enough breath to blow,” you snapped your lips in frustration, remembering how disappointing it was not to be able to play. Your father wanted to laugh internally but did everything to hold it back, knowing it would irritate you. “Do you play anything?”

“I used to play piano, but I’ve had no time, and I barely remember the last time I touched one,” he squinted as he spoke, and you felt sad seeing how much he seemed to miss the instrument.

“Why is there a woman in costume over there?” you asked suddenly, changing the subject entirely, and your father had to turn his head to see whom you were talking about. There was a woman in flamboyant clothes and a white wig talking to a man Bruce recognized as the owner of the establishment.

“She’s the opera singer who used to perform here when it was still a theater.” He got comfortable in his seat again and opened the menu. “She only goes on stage at 10. If you want, we can stay and watch her later.”

“This used to be a theater?” you perked up, scanning the room again, trying to imagine how it must have looked years ago, without all these tables and with an audience facing the stage. Bruce smiled internally, having caught on that your curiosity had been piqued.

“When the old owner died, his son decided to turn the place into a restaurant,” he glanced briefly at you and noticed how you were expecting him to say more. “The boy didn’t live in the city, and when he came back, he thought the business was too archaic. But he decided to keep some of the staff as a tradition.”

“I wish I could have watched a play here,” you said, frustrated, resting your head between your hands. Bruce thought about telling you to take your arms off the table but dismissed the idea.

“You’ve never seen one?” He turned to the next page, evaluating the meals.

“No… Only on TV,” you replied, poking at the edge of the other menu the waiter had left for you but not bothering to open it.

“We can go one day. I’ll take you,” he said after finally deciding what to order, but before calling the waiter, he looked at you curiously. “Have you decided what you want to eat?”

“I…” you hesitated for a moment. “Can you choose for me?” you asked with pleading eyes.

Bruce frowned. He opened his mouth to understand but closed it immediately. He had noticed details about your behavior like this in recent weeks—small, seemingly insignificant things that still managed to catch him by surprise. It was normal for children your age to choose what they wanted to eat, but it seemed Talia had been very strict about your diet. Alfred prepared your meals, and Bruce couldn’t recall you refusing any of them. Fortunately, you seemed easygoing in this aspect.

“Are you sure you don’t want to choose? Something savory instead of sweet?” he suggested, and you thought for a moment but nodded. Bruce knew about your fondness for sweets, which made him sometimes push you to avoid them.

Bruce raised his hand to call the waiter, but suddenly a high-pitched female voice approached from behind. Neither of you had noticed when the singer had finished her song, stepping away from the microphone while the band played without vocals, heading toward your table.

“Bruce Wayne!” she called out excitedly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Your father looked at her, not expecting her to come over, barely noticing the man accompanying her until he also started speaking, though more loudly than her.

“Miss Conti,” Bruce muttered her name uncomfortably. “Mr. Williams,” he acknowledged the restaurant’s owner. After Williams took over the place following his father’s death, Conti was hired as the main attraction. The two had a public affair, something socially frowned upon, but for some reason, the man’s wife tolerated the scandal.

“Mr. Wayne, I needed to talk to you. Are you enjoying the evening?” Williams attempted to start, but he was interrupted:

“Oh, come on, Bruce. You know you can call me Cecilia,” the woman chimed in, rubbing your father’s shoulder with her thumb before removing her hand completely and then noticing you sitting next to him. She opened an even bigger smile, though her eyes didn’t follow suit, widening with curiosity. “And who’s this lovely girl here?”

Bruce let out a small laugh, happy to mention you. “This is my daughter.”

“I didn’t know you had a daughter. How’s Richard doing? Still as confident as when he was a boy? God, he must be a grown man by now.” She made comment after comment but didn’t give Bruce a chance to respond before she started speaking again: “Oh, but you’re such a cute little thing.” She approached your chair, cautiously analyzing your face, running her fingers over your earlobe and then sliding them along your jaw. You had no other reaction but to thank her, feeling uncomfortable with her touch and very confused about who they were.

“You’re very beautiful too, Miss,” you said sincerely. The woman before you was truly stunning. Her blonde hair was impeccably styled in an elegant bun, and her makeup remained flawless, without a smudge. She wore an orange dress adorned with small sparkling stones that glimmered under the lights. Your teenage eyes were captivated by her appearance. She didn’t seem to be more than 40 years old.

“Oh, hearing her speak makes her even more adorable,” she gestured in the air as if wanting to pinch your cheeks, softening her voice the way people often do when talking to pets.

“A really lovely young lady, if I may say so,” Williams added with an awkward smile as he pulled a chair from another table to sit. You looked at Bruce, confused, thinking it would just be the two of you. The woman did the same but, instead of fetching one herself, asked a random man in a staff uniform to bring her one. “Remember what we were discussing at the city library’s grand opening, Wayne?”

“George, forget business for a second. Let’s have some fun,” Cecilia cut him off. “Where did you two come from?” she asked you both.

“We were at the auction,” your father answered, tense at their lack of social grace. If you hadn’t been there, Bruce wouldn’t have hesitated to be rude and tell them to get lost, but in front of his children, he tried to keep that side of him in check.

“Oh! The one the opposing candidate, DuPont, organized?” she added a malicious tone to her voice, as if implying something. “I must say, I never thought I’d see you supporting one of your biggest competitors in Gotham’s mayoral race, Bruce.”

“We’re competitors, not enemies,” he tried to respond lightly. “Besides, I don’t see why we couldn’t end up collaborating.”

"You should have declared support for the current mayor. The citizens of Gotham tend to reelect the same names, as you well know. Carnegie will win again," the other man interrupted. Bruce, impatient, clenched his fists under the table, frustrated with the direction the conversation had taken. He had hoped for a quiet dinner alone with you to get to know you better, but it seemed he had chosen the wrong place.

"Mr. Williams, no offense intended, my only reason for being here is to have dinner with my daughter. Please, let’s put politics aside for tonight." He wished he could ask both of them to leave, but suddenly, Cecilia started talking to you. Bruce, visibly irritated, called the waiter, wanting to finish the meal as quickly as possible so he could leave. After placing his order, he turned to you and asked, "Carbonara?" Seeing you nod, he ordered that too.

"I'll go for an arugula salad with truffles," Cecilia said, her smile becoming increasingly irritating, seemingly oblivious to Bruce's displeasure.

"For me, a lobster ravioli with lemon foam and caviar," Williams added, just to be included, and you grimaced at the thought of caviar.

"What did you think of the auction? Did your father buy something special for you?" Cecilia turned to you at the table, with a noticeable interest in getting your attention.

"It was interesting, Miss Conti," you replied simply, using the surname you remembered your father mentioning.

"Oh, dear..." Cecilia said in a falsely disheartened tone. "Bruce drags you to these boring events? Girls your age usually prefer to go to the movies or something like that."

"I like movies," you said, irritated, not quite understanding what she was getting at. "And I enjoyed the auction. There were some very beautiful paintings there."

"Argh, I hope you’re not talking about those by Isabela Zaragoza." She picked up a wine glass the waiter had served a few minutes earlier and drank. "She can only sell her works at charity auctions." She let out a sarcastic laugh, and Mr. Williams joined in.

You looked at Bruce for a response, but all you saw was a hard look. Your father was hardly looking at any of you, breathing deeply with impatience. You didn’t like what they were doing; it seemed cruel, even though you had no idea who Isabela Zaragoza was.

"Oh, Bruce. You know it's true." She rolled her eyes, and it was clear that Cecilia was the dominant one in the duo, always very talkative and starting conversations. "In all of Gotham City, the only one who buys her art is your father. It must be out of pity; someone who paints with their feet probably won't get very far in their career."

You were shocked by what she said. It was something so unexpected to hear that you froze in place completely. It was absurdly cruel, and seeing your wide eyes, along with Bruce's furious expression, made Williams, who had been laughing with her earlier, become nervous.

"Cecilia!" He whispered her name sharply. "She was just joking. Zaragoza is a fantastic artist." He tried to ease the tense atmosphere, sweating coldly.

"I must say she paints better with her feet than you sing with your mouth, Miss Conti." Bruce suddenly replied in a dangerously low voice, and it seemed to hit a nerve with her, as the calluses that were forming in her voice knocked her confidence. He knew he was wrong to try to humiliate her back; it wasn’t a mature move, especially since he didn’t want you to take that as an example.

You let out a quiet laugh at that but immediately stopped when Bruce looked at you. He had a soft sadness, not of disappointment, but of concern. He regretted his own behavior and knew he would need to talk to you about what Cecilia and he had said later. The woman in question tried to laugh with you at first but miserably failed. It was obvious that Bruce had wounded her ego.

"When we were dating, you praised my voice a lot, Bruce." She suddenly mentioned, and you looked at him in surprise. You hadn’t noticed how your father had almost frozen in place before asking:

"You and my dad used to date?" Your voice carried genuine curiosity, and Mr. Williams beside you seemed uncomfortable with the topic.

"Yes, dear." She looked at you, then turned her face to Bruce mockingly. In the background, you could hear your father clearing his throat, trying to draw your attention away from the subject, but he couldn’t. "It's been many years. It was fun for a few months, that is until Robert found out, of course." She laughed a little too loudly for the setting, taking another sip from her glass.

"Who is Robert?" You asked, your voice dropping, your playful smile now gone due to the strangeness of the conversation.

"Oh, he was my husband." She said it as if it were nothing, and Bruce suddenly stood up from the table, moving to his seat and pulling you to leave. His expression had crumpled like paper as he stood up automatically, still processing what she had said.

"Let’s go." Bruce told you, embarrassed but trying to mask it with an expression of fury.

"But the dishes haven’t even arrived yet, Bruce." Cecilia melodramatically added, placing a hand on his arm, a silent request to stay.

"We're leaving." He repeated more firmly, pulling you by the shoulders away from her. Bruce leaned a bit over the table to face her head-on, and with harshness, he unleashed his anger on her: "I know what you're trying to do, you viper, and you will regret this. Never dare to approach me or her again."

"Did I say something wrong?" She spoke cynically, finally showing an expression that matched her feelings for him: disdain.

"Wayne, we can resolve this." William stood up from the chair, visibly shaken. The meticulous plan he had been crafting for months was crumbling before his eyes. Bruce's funding was the key to expanding the restaurant, and Cecilia had ruined everything. "I'm sure we can forget this incident if Ceci apologizes."

Bruce felt the tension rise in his body, the throb of a vein in his forehead, while the heat of irritation burned under his skin. "Do you think I’m going to accept something like that? In front of my daughter?" He spat the words, struggling to maintain his composure. His fists were clenched, ready for a blow that never came. It was only when you gently tugged on his arm that he made the decision to leave. As you walked out, William's frustrated shouts echoed through the hall, his anger directed at the blonde woman, who was furious at being dismissed immediately.

Bruce's frustration was palpable. The last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as inconvenient as Cecilia, especially in your presence. The shadow of his reckless past still hung over him, an open wound. Women like her were living reminders of the regrets that haunted him, of thoughtless choices he would do anything to change.

Near the exit, you spotted the opera singer again, and the memory of what your father had promised you tugged at your heart. "Aren't we going to stay to hear the opera lady?" your voice carried a twinge of sadness.

Bruce sighed, his fingers gently squeezing your shoulders, but the discomfort was evident on his face. "Sorry, I know you wanted that." The weight of the situation was palpable, and he couldn’t help but imagine what you were thinking about him now.

The chauffeur, caught off guard by the rush, quickly opened the door. Bruce, however, did not wait. He let you enter first, slamming the door shut as soon as he settled in. Inside the car, he exhaled the air he hadn’t realized he was holding, diverting his gaze to you. His focus was on the scenery, his face too serene, but he noticed how you were biting your nails—a small sign of nervousness.

He swallowed hard. What a terrible way to end the evening, right next to you. The silence hung heavy in the air, and he feared asking what was going through your mind. Who would have thought? Bruce Wayne, afraid of the words of a child.

For a moment, he watched you press your cheek against the glass, your eyes wandering over the city lights.

"S/n," he called your name, his voice hoarse. You murmured in response, waiting for him to continue. Bruce opened his mouth, but the words got lost along the way. His expression hardened, and he turned to the window as well, the silence remaining until you arrived at the mansion. And you, very focused on observing the movement of the streets, didn’t mind.

When you arrived at the entrance, Alfred was already there, helping you take off your thick coat at that very moment. The butler was surprised at how quickly the two of you returned. He knew that Bruce wouldn’t take long because of you, needing to sleep early, but he hadn’t expected it to be at this hour.

"Master Bruce, Miss Y/n. Did something happen?" He asked, noticing your silence. For Bruce, this was a common demeanor, but whenever your went out, you returned home commenting on every tiny detail of everything you saw.

"Boring people." You replied with a grimace, using that false tone of indifference that Alfred knew how to identify very well.

"Boring people?" He returned rhetorically while glancing at Bruce, who silently took off his own coat and exited the room without saying goodbye to either of you. He had certainly overheard the brief conversation but was ignoring you two. "There are always a few." The older man said with a smile at you.

“I don’t like going to places with a lot of people; it’s annoying having to give everyone an explanation. But it was nice to go out with Bruce.” You started voicing your thoughts aloud, and Alfred knew you wouldn’t hold back in front of him.

Sometimes he felt like you treated him as a sort of confidant, a diary, but then he realized you didn’t make an effort to hide anything from anyone in particular, except for extremely specific things. Another clear sign of Talia. She must have raised you to be like this, as no other girl your age would likely be so open.

“Did you have fun with him?” The butler continued encouraging you.

“Yes!” You became animated again, just as you had on other occasions. It seemed like all you needed was a little push to break the ice. “He let me place bids at the auction. I even competed with someone.”

“Did you win?”

“Yes!” You repeated the exasperated expression. “In the end, I almost didn’t place a final bid because the money got really high, but Bruce said to keep going.”

“And what did you get?” Alfred asked, guiding you to the kitchen. At some point, you would ask for his hot chocolate, so he preferred to get ahead of it.

“It was a compass from the colonial era.” You followed him and sat in the middle chair at the counter, one of the seats in front of the stove, since watching the butler cook had become one of your hobbies. It happened so often that everyone knew that chair was yours, and only you sat in it. “The money went to the children from the orphanage, so Bruce said I could.”

“Well done.” He replied, very focused on something but still paying attention to every word you said. Just then, Jason entered the kitchen, surprised to see you there, just like Alfred.

“You got back early.” He commented, recognizing the situation, raising his eyebrows at the butler, who gave him a keen look as he watched him head for the fridge. “What happened?” The boy asked, lacking any real interest.

“Bruce argued with a couple at the restaurant after the auction.” You said, resting your head on the counter, and Alfred could feel his ears itching. He had finally arrived at the point he wanted. “I saw a motorcycle like yours when we were coming back.” You added for your brother.

“Bruce argued at the restaurant?” Jason questioned you, ignoring your last sentence, not out of malice, but because he didn’t expect the animated man who had left home earlier to come back with such news.

“It wasn’t really a fight.” You tried to correct yourself, feeling guilty for revealing this since neither of them seemed very happy. “He just ended up discussing.”

Alfred extended an arm toward Jason as if asking for permission to interject in the matter. “Miss Y/n, who did Master Bruce argue with?”

You worried you were saying too much and might upset Bruce later because of it, but the way things happened, you knew the people at the tables around must have seen the scene, even if they didn’t know the context. Sooner or later, they would know who the parties involved were.

“A man named... Williams I think.” You whispered, looking at a random point as you tried to remember his name, losing Jason’s incredulous expression as he recognized the name of the place’s owner. “And a woman named Cecilia Conti.” The last name made Alfred nod silently, as he remembered the woman well.

“What did those two do to annoy him?” Jason dared to ask, looking at the butler with curiosity. The man was good at hiding feelings, but he sensed that Alfred knew very well the last person. The name wasn’t strange, but still, it wasn’t someone Jason recalled being mentioned with any importance.

The delay in hearing your answer made the two of them stare at you again in confusion. You pulled your hands from the counter and joined them in your lap, never meeting their gazes. It was an uncomfortable situation for you, and unfortunately very disappointing, but you knew Bruce wouldn’t want you to go around sharing this. If you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t want anyone to know either. It wasn’t something that should be simply said.

“I don’t know.” You whispered again, looking up to see if they believed you. Obviously, neither of them did, but Jason was clever and changed the subject.

“So you saw a motorcycle like mine, huh?” He moved closer to you, holding a bottle of tonic water he had taken from the fridge. “Which one was it?”

“I don’t understand motorcycles.” You replied with a discouraged huff.

Jason glanced at Alfred and noticed that he was watching you both the whole time. Knowing him well, Jason realized that Alfred would go after Bruce to understand the story since you obviously didn’t want to tell.

“I was going to take a look at the exhaust on mine. Want to come with me?” He asked, remembering how you enjoyed learning a bit more about how the systems worked when he showed you last week. “I’ll let you get your hands dirty this time.”

“Are you serious?” You asked excitedly, smiling when you saw him shrug, but you quickly widened your eyes as you remembered something: “I can’t, I need to sleep. First day of school.”

Your statement made Jason check his wristwatch, looking at the time. He looked at you as if feeling sorry, saying, “Good luck, squirt.” And he headed to the garage of the Batcave, from which you suspected he had just come.

Alfred was happy that Jason was bonding with you. Knowing the boy's genius, the older man thought he would resist developing some kind of relationship, very different from Dick. But apparently, your nature pleased him since he didn’t shy away from spending time in your presence, like now.

Before midnight, you had already washed your hair and were trying to dry it with a hairdryer, but it was a bit difficult to stretch your arm back. You were clumsy, and usually, your mother did that for you, but after a few minutes, you managed. The problem was that everything got messy, and you wanted to sleep so you wouldn’t be tired the next day, but you had to detangle it or it would be worse. You must have been very focused while trying to fix your hair because you didn’t even notice your father opening the door.

“You’ve got everything ready.” Bruce said, analyzing the clothes on your sofa, with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, having only taken off his jacket. “Excited for the first day of school?” He asked you with a strange tone.

“I think I’m more nervous.” Your response came with a furrowed brow, wondering what the day would be like. You had never been to school before, and it seemed Damian and Tim were really good there, so you felt a bit pressured to at least try not to embarrass them with poor performance.

“I still remember how it was for me.” He continued, watching your uniform with a melancholic gaze, reliving some old memory. Bruce liked how well ironed everything was, and it made him proud to know that you did it all by yourself. “You’ll do fine, trust me. A girl like you won’t have many problems making friends or getting good grades.”

“Alfred helped me choose the shoes.” You pulled out a pair of low-heeled white dress shoes to show him. They were delicate and would certainly stand out against the uniform. “Aren’t they pretty?”

“They are.” Bruce smiled, looking more at you than at the shoes themselves. “Have you eaten?” He asked, concerned.

You grimaced and took a moment to respond, letting out a hesitant “Yes.”

“Did you really eat?” He gave you a disapproving look, not convinced.

“Hot chocolate.” You let out the answer you knew he didn’t want to hear. You ate a bit of everything, including healthy stuff, but your sweet tooth was hard to control.

“You have to eat something besides sweets before bed.” He said, trying not to give in to the remorseful look you gave him. But the feeling of guilt hit him, knowing he should have ensured you had dinner at the restaurant.

“But I already brushed my teeth.” Your mumble made him sigh, searching for words to bring up a topic he wanted to avoid at all costs.

“Sorry... For what happened there.” He took his hands out of his pockets and sat on the bed, extending his arm for you to come to him. “You shouldn’t have had to hear that.” His voice was in an unnatural tone, firm and grave, but your silence notably bothered him.

“S/n.” He called your name, seeing your face look up to meet his. “You can be angry. You don’t have to pretend.”

“Why should I be angry?” Your question was innocent. Although it was disappointing, you didn’t feel angry at him. Besides, before you got to know him for real, Bruce Wayne was already a famous figure. His personal life was constantly in the newspapers.

“I want you to know that back then I was young and stupid.” He ran his hand along your arm as if wanting to offer some kind of comfort. The realization that you could have changed your opinion about him was killing him since you two left there, and he worried about doing something wrong concerning you, as Bruce wanted your trust, and he knew Talia wouldn’t let any mistake slip by before coming back and throwing it in his face. “I’ve changed. Do you understand me?”

“So you wouldn’t do that again?” You asked calmly, and that relieved him.

“No, never again. That was the first and last time.” He placed the hand that was on your arm to gently caress your cheek, suddenly remembering the time. He couldn’t take much more of your time. “There’s something more important I want to talk to you about as well. What Conti said about Miss Zaragoza…”

“It was wrong,” you quickly added, noticing how conflicted he seemed about what had happened.

“And what I said after…” Bruce continued, trying to find the right way to say it, but you spoke up again:

“That was wrong too.” Your soft voice sounded in understanding.

“Smart girl.” He smiled slightly, placing his hand on top of your head. “Can you do me a favor?”

“What?” you asked, rubbing your sleepy eyes.

“Can you not mention Miss Conti to Dick?” Bruce continued looking at you attentively, noticing the silly expression on your face. He felt genuinely grateful to see that the incident hadn’t affected your mood towards him. “Your brother doesn’t like her either.” Bruce gave you a light pinch on your side, which made you laugh.

“Alright!” you murmured as you got up, now excited thinking about the day ahead. “No telling Dick.” You emphasized, already pulling the covers up to lie down.

Bruce had also stood up, going to the switch to turn off the light when your voice sounded again: “Can you take me to school tomorrow? Just to the entrance.”

“I will,” he replied calmly. “And no more sweets for the rest of the week. I won’t go easy on you.” Bruce said finally, turning off the switch and carefully closing your bedroom door.

Tag list:

@aenishas

[esthercore]

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will

Jing Yuan struggled to maintain his calm and collected demeanor as the woman before him leaned forward, her chest deliberately emphasized, eyelashes fluttering in a vain attempt at seduction. Every exaggerated gesture disgusted him, her desperation like a bitter taste in the air. He found it distasteful, yet kept his smile measured, polite.

He had grown accustomed to this treatment over the years—being the most sought-after man in all of the Xianzhou Luofu came with its burdens. But even after his marriage, the shamelessness of these advances still left a bitter taste.

At first, his admirers had stepped back, respecting the vows he had made. Yet recently, the unwanted attention had returned, with men and women alike shamelessly vying for his gaze once more. It was disheartening—more disappointing than surprising.

The moment his duties were done, Jing Yuan wasted no time in leaving his office. Yanqing had already taken over the smaller tasks that might have kept him working late, fully aware of how desperately the general longed to return home.

His heart raced as he hurried inside, shedding his shoes with practiced ease before quickly changing clothes and washing his face. He glanced at his reflection, making sure he looked presentable, eager to be back in his lover's warm embrace.

Jing Yuan cleared his throat softly, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he slid the kitchen door open. His eyes were immediately drawn to the familiar figure inside, their silver hair catching the soft light akin to halo as they moved gracefully around the kitchen, preparing dinner. Their frame, though delicate and fragile with age, held a beauty that never failed to stir his heart. To him, they were the most beautiful in the entire universe, always has been, always will be.

As Jing Yuan drew closer, he couldn’t resist the temptation to surprise them, gently wrapping his arms around their waist from behind. A delighted giggle escaped their lips, the sound as melodious and youthful as it used to be.

His heart swelled at the sound, and he nuzzled his face into the crook of their neck, breathing in their familiar scent. They hugged him in return, their embrace tight and full of love, as if time had never touched them at all.

Yet, amidst the warmth and laughter, Jing Yuan found himself struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to break through his calm exterior. He kept up the strong facade, though his heart clenched painfully as he noticed how much lighter their body had become in his arms.

His sweet lover was wilting before his eyes, slowly fading away, while his own body remained unchanged, untouched by time. The cruel reality that they could slip away at any moment, any day, heck, any second at this point, hung heavy over him. Without thinking, he clutched them tighter, as if holding them closer could keep the inevitable at bay.

Alas, this was the curse of his long-lived kind.

But, of course, they noticed. They always did. Despite Jing Yuan’s countless years of life, his sweet lover seemed much wiser in such moments, their intuition sharper than his own.

"Hey now," they chided softly, their voice warm with affection. "I thought we talked about this. You’ve got so many years ahead of you. You’ll get over this, chin up, young man." They scolded Jing Yuan as if he's a child, chuckling to themself for the last words.

But their gentle words weren’t enough to stop the tears dripping down Jing Yuan’s cheeks. His voice wavered as he tried to speak, the sobs breaking through the calm he had worked so hard to maintain.

"H-how could you say that?" he whispered, his throat tight with emotion. "My life ends with yours... What am I without my beloved?"

He held them closer, trembling as the sobs grew heavier, his heart aching with a grief that felt all too familiar. Losing them would be losing half of himself—no, more than that. They were his only salvation after everything he had already endured—the fall of the quintuplet, the chaos of the endless hunt, the countless lives lost along the way.

In all that pain and devastation, it was their love that had kept him anchored, their presence that had made his immortality bearable. Without them, the weight of eternity felt unbearable.

Seeing the depth of his sorrow, his lover turned gently, their own eyes glistening with unspoken understanding. They wrapped their arms around him, pulling him close with a soothing embrace. With a careful touch, they guided him to a chair, they settled themself on his lap, curling up against him with a comforting warmth. As they nestled into him, their arms encircling him in a protective hug, Jing Yuan felt the weight of his emotions begin to ease.

In that intimate space, surrounded by their presence, he was finally able to let go of his grief, allowing his tears and sobs to flow freely. Their closeness, their steadfast love, became his refuge, a gentle balm for his broken heart.

His sweet, sweet lover, once so insecure about their fleeting lifespan, had feared every day that Jing Yuan might one day leave them or cheat on them once they aged. The one who had rejected him hundred times before finally going out with him, taking so long to trust in Jing Yuan's loyalty now held him close, with no trace of the fears that once consumed them.

They had taken years to fully trust him, and in return, they had found the strength to care for him with a depth that spoke of enduring love. The roles now reversed where they had once sought comfort and reassurance, now found them as the steadfast pillar supporting him through his grief. It was a testament to their journey together, from insecurity to unwavering devotion, a journey that had woven their hearts together in a bond unbreakable by time or sorrow.

As his tears gradually subsided, Jing Yuan’s grip on them softened. He leaned in to place a tender peck on their forehead, a silent thank you for their unwavering support. With a gentle sigh, he watched as they rose from his lap to return back to prepping the meal.

Resting his chin on the table, Jing Yuan’s gaze remained fixed on them. He followed every motion with a deep sense of admiration, memorizing the way their hands moved, the way they interacted with the ingredients, everything. He savored this moment, knowing how fleeting and precious it was, and held onto the image of them, capturing every detail in his heart for as long as he could.

Soon, the food was ready, the aroma filling the room with warmth and comfort. They plated Jing Yuan's meal with a practiced hand, setting it down in front of him with a loving smile. As they settled into their seat, prepared to join him for the meal, a sudden realization seemed to strike them.

They paused, a thoughtful expression crossing their face as they remembered something important.

"Honey, can you be free this weekend?"

"For you? I try, but why so?"

"I think it's time for me to pick my grave stone"

And the tones rolled back again

i tried to improve my writing, i hope you guys liked it ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[just-jordie-things]

video games - takuma ino

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 11.6k warnings: mentions of blood, drinking summary: ino has been infatuated with his non-sorcerer roommate since day one. but he's convinced she couldn't feel the same way. more info: roommate!au, friends to lovers, gojo hits on you but it's for the greater good ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ it’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you // everything i do // i tell you all the time, heaven is a place on earth with you // tell me all the things you wanna do ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

How Takuma Ino ended up with a non-sorcerer roommate wasn’t as interesting of a story as his colleagues always thought it would be when they’d first find out.  They were always so eager for the details- was she his girlfriend? Did she know about his career and lifestyle? Was she cute? How did they meet?- and even though Ino would often laugh sheepishly and duck his head to hide his smile, the truth just wasn’t that exciting.

The truth was that as fun as being a jujutsu sorcerer was, it didn’t pay well.  So he needed a roommate in order to better afford rent.  One ad led to another, and soon (y/l/n) (y/n) was showing up asking for a tour.  It only took one visit for her to decide to move in, and they’ve been roommates for the better part of a year now.

Ino always leaves out the part where he didn’t believe she’d actually agree to join the lease with him- when she’d shown up at his door he figured she’d only asked for a tour to be polite.  In his mind there was just no way that a young woman as beautiful and hard working in her field needed a roommate- much less some random dude like him.  She’d been so friendly and easy going upon their first meeting and they seemed to click just right, so she’d shook his hand and set a move-in date that very day.  When she’d left, Ino had collapsed on his sofa with a beer and a bewildered laugh to himself.  Even now, he’s not sure how he managed to make it happen.

“You wanna order chinese? I don’t feel like cooking” 

(y/n’s) call from the other side of the room drew him out of his thoughts, and he glanced over the back of the couch to see her rummaging through the pantry.  Logic reared it’s head, reminding him that they’d just bought groceries so they should probably save the money and eat at home tonight.

But then she gave him that hopeful little smile that he couldn’t help but return before nodding his head.  Logic never won in a battle against something (y/n) wanted.

“Sure” He agrees through his smile.

By the time she’s dressed in her comfy lounging clothes, he’s already called their usual place and made an order.  He’d long since memorized her go-to order and was usually the one put in charge of calling.  He never minded.  How could he complain when everything about their situation was just so perfect? 

The roommate of his dreams, she was.  Tidy, quiet, a great cook, and one of the most pleasant people he’s ever gotten to know, Ino truly believed he struck gold when (y/n) answered his ad.  So even when his colleagues teased him for his living situation, he could hardly care.

And tease him they did.  Gojo was the main assailant.  Often joking about how strong Ino must feel all the time, being in the presence of a weak non-sorcerer human.  How she must think he was some superhero compared to all the lame human men she’d meet at her job or through her friends.  How Ino must be so lucky to have a young lady as his roommate.   Still, no matter how much he messed around, Ino knew that there was no harm in Gojo’s words.  And he also knew that if he’d actually met (y/n), he’d shut his ignorant mouth.

Nanami didn’t invest himself too much in Ino’s private life, he was simply respectful and reserved like that, but on occasion he’d been known to ask about his roommate.  Mostly situational to their occupation- such as what she thought of the nasty cuts and bruises he’d come home with- but once in a blue moon he’d make a comment suggesting it was only a matter of time before one of them developed feelings.  Ino always flustered under the light of those questions and found a way to avoid them.

In the few times throughout his week that he’d cross paths with Shoko, she always made a point to ask about his roommate.  Which was sort of odd, seeing as her work in the infirmary didn’t make them the closest of colleagues, but at first the casual conversation was welcomed.  But it was only a matter of time before she, too, would begin pestering him about making a move on her.

They all seemed to have the same underlying message.  How could you share a living space with someone and not catch feelings for them? And Ino spent a lot of his time and energy trying to convince them that it simply wasn’t like that.  Just because they both happened to be single, and close friends, and sharing a small two bedroom apartment, didn’t mean that romantic feelings were bound to happen.  They were both adults, they could live in such a situation and keep their hands and hearts to themselves.

He was a liar, though.

Takuma Ino had fallen completely, head over heels in love with his roommate, and there was no chance of him ever getting over that feeling.

It had taken relatively no time for the feelings to develop.  Shortly after her moving in, she’d made an effort to be close to him.  There wasn’t a moment where he felt like she wanted space or privacy away from him.  She often offered to help him cook, or invited him grocery shopping with her, or out to a movie she wanted to see, and a fast friendship blossomed.  The way she always reached out to include him had him swooning in no time.

Coffee runs, movie nights, and frequent texting throughout their days before they both came home all snowballed into one undeniable truth.  He was falling in love with her.

When Ino had first realized that’s what was happening when his heart would leap out of his chest when she’d scoot close to him on the couch so they could share a blanket while they watched a movie or played a game together, he’d tried to bury it.  Because surely his mind was just playing tricks on him.  Surely he was just excited that a pretty and kind girl like her wanted to be so close to him, and his feelings were strictly platonic.

But then he found himself relaxing just from the smell of her shampoo wafting close to him.  He realized that when he would come home from a late assignment and she’d be waiting for him that his heart was skipping a beat because it was just so perfectly domestic.  He couldn’t deny it for too long at all, not when she so sweetly saved him the leftovers from her dinner and would heat it up for him while he showered and de-stressed from the particularly rough assignment.

The only problem was that he knew she didn’t feel the same way, and he’d been struggling to keep his true feelings hidden.  From her, and from his pesky fellow sorcerers.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

(y/n) hated when Ino came home late from his assignments.

Not because the squeak door woke her up, or because it meant she was alone taking care of the evening chores.  It was simply because she’d stay up every time, too consumed with anxiety to go to sleep without knowing he’d returned safe and sound.

Which, in all fairness, he always did.  He always came home, and most of the time he’d shoot her a message saying he’d wrapped up with work and was on his way- even when it was one in the morning- like tonight.

She waited up on the couch, wrapped up in a fluffy blanket with the title screen of a movie she’d watched hours ago playing it’s intro for the thousandth time.  In all fairness she knew he could handle himself, and he’d never not come home, or come back with life threatening injuries.

That didn’t mean he didn’t come back hurt, and that didn’t mean she wouldn’t fuss over him, every single time.

And tonight when he finally stumbles into the apartment, just as the clock ticks past two, she’s practically gnawing at her nails as she rushes towards him.

Despite the way he limps, and there’s blood trickling out of his nose, he gives her a smile, and he’s the first to worry.

“It’s late, you should be in bed” He scolds without any real threat to his words.  This routine had established itself months ago, and he knew damn well that she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep until she knew he was safely returned home.

Still, he worried about something as silly as her sleep schedule every time.

“Shut up” Is all (y/n) mumbles, beckoning him further into their apartment, until he’s following her to the bathroom.  

She’s faster than him, pulling out the well loved first aid kit and getting everything prepped and ready on the counter while he slowly staggers in behind her.  It was practically the same scene every time he came home like this.  No matter how beat up he was- with a mere scratch or bloodied to a pulp- she was forcing him to sit down on the lid of the toilet seat so she could tend to his injuries herself.

Ino wasn’t sure if it was for her own well being and comfort, knowing that she’d taken care of him and none of his injuries would get infected.  Or if maybe she just didn’t trust him to take care of them himself, maybe she knew that his idea of first aid was slapping a hello kitty band aid on it and calling it a night.

(There was one instance a few months ago where he’d left a hello kitty band aid on the back of his hand that she’d so lovingly placed there, and Gojo didn’t let him hear the end of it for the entire day.  Not that Ino minded.  Every time he caught a glimpse of the pink band aid it brought a smile to his face remembering how gentle she’d been covering the cut underneath, how her thumb had stroked over the sticker so lightly to ensure it was well placed and would do the trick.  He left that band aid on his hand for as long as he could before eventually it lost his adhesive and in turn he lost it)

Either way, he never tried to talk her out of tending to him.  Even when he knew it was too late for her to be staying up just to clean up some silly injuries that were nothing compared to the things that Shoko healed with her Reverse Cursed Technique- but he’d never tell (y/n) about the broken bones or brushes with death.  He’d just keep his mouth shut and sit on that toilet seat while she soaked a cotton pad in antiseptic and gently dabbed at the cuts on his arm.

“Sorry” 

She’d mumble the apology every time she’d make first contact with the injury, knowing how the alcohol tended to sting.  And every time, Ino would give her a small smile and tell her it was alright.

“How was your day?” He hummed as she continued to clean up the few cuts on his arms.  She had his sleeve rolled all the way up and tucked carefully at his shoulder so it wouldn’t be a hindrance.  She hummed thoughtfully before shrugging a shoulder.

“Pretty boring, nothing of note,” She murmured back truthfully.  “Until now” She adds, her eyes meeting his just so he’d catch the hint of reprimand in her tone.

Ino can’t help but chuckle to himself, he’d forever be amused by the way she worries over him.  She may have been new to the world of jujutsu sorcery, but it never failed to humor him how she’d fuss and worry over such minor injuries.  Injuries that Shoko wouldn’t treat even if Ino walked into the infirmary and begged for it.  Surely he’d be laughed at.

“So you’re saying I’m the highlight?” He teases quietly, and (y/n) rolls her eyes, but doesn’t deny it.  She chooses the safe route and keeps her focus on her handiwork.  He still laughs at her obvious non-answer.  “Work was alright, though?” 

“I suppose,” She answers.  “Got home early because some people in my department were going out and convinced my boss to join, so they let us all leave early.  That was nice” 

Ino gave her a small frown, but it went unnoticed.

“How come you didn’t go?” 

Her eyes briefly flicker up to his, and she purses her lips before shrugging her shoulders in a small movement.

“Wasn’t really in the mood,” She says, and it’s not a total lie, but she averts her eyes shortly after, reaching out to the first aid kit on the counter again.  She fishes around a bit before finding the package of square shaped band aids.  “Besides, I didn’t know when you’d be back” She added.

It deepens his frown, but she’s completely avoiding his gaze now.  He expects as much, seeing as he’s had this conversation with her before.  He encourages her to go out with her friends more, or make new friends at work to hang out with, and she always has an excuse at the ready.  Sometimes her reasoning was decent, but most of the time it was obvious she came up with them on the spot, and it made his heart sink.

Of course he wanted her around all the time, pushing her away was absolutely a struggle for him, but Ino knew that if they continued only spending time with one another, then his feelings would never go away.  It would be hard, but tremendous help if she made a new best friend, or better yet a boyfriend, and then he’d have to get over her, he was sure.

“You shouldn’t avoid your friends cause of me,” He tells her quietly.  “It’s late, you could’ve gone out… if you wanted to” 

After placing a band aid on his skin and smoothing down the corners so it stayed intact, she glanced up at him.  A small knot formed between her brows before she cracked a goofy smile.

“They’re not my friends, Ino,” She chuckles at him.  “They’re coworkers.  I see them plenty enough, I don’t need to hang out with them outside of work- where we would probably still only talk about work” 

As far as excuses went, it was a pretty damn good one.  So this time he gave in, smiling and nodding back at her in understanding.

“Guess that’s fair,” He mumbles, and she laughs quietly again as she opens up another band aid.  “I just… I dunno, I don’t want you missing out of stuff, that’s all” 

“I think I’m old enough to decide what I want to do with my time,” She teases, her cheeks warming at the insinuation in her admission.  “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be” 

His heart skips a beat, and as lovely as the feeling is when his stomach flips, Ino wishes she wouldn’t say stuff like that.  It gave his heart the wrong idea, and it was hard to fight with his heart.  He was convinced his brain just wasn’t strong enough to fight the delusion.

“So your ideal night is patching up this idiot, huh?” He wiggles his eyebrows at her in that way that always makes her laugh, and she does, bubbly and sweet, and again his stomach does a flip.  Making her laugh always brightened him up completely.  Like a video game character maxing out his health bar.

“I think I would’ve made a great doctor” She teases back, shaking the box of band aids at him before carefully tucking them back in their spot in the first aid kit.

“You don’t even give me lollipops, how could you say that?” Ino retorts in mock offense- although it would make these little patch up sessions even better if he was rewarded with her close proximity and candy, but he’d accept one sweet thing at a time.

“Shut up,” She says through her giggles, finally closing up the whole kit.  “You’re lucky I don’t do any of the scary stuff.  I’ll leave that for your sorcerer friends” 

“Eh, it might come to that,” Ino shrugs.  He stays seated as she puts the small case back into it’s spot in the cabinet, lingering in her space for however long she’ll let him.  “Shoko will probably get tired of me eventually, you know.  How comfortable are you with stitches?” 

The grin on his face is nothing short of teasing- and he knows he should stop.  He knows that eventually the lines get blurry and he’s not sure how much his teasing is starting to blend into flirting, and with how playful her nature is she’s never afraid to dish it back.  Not once had she reacted in an uncomfortable manner to something he’s said, but that only makes it harder for him to draw that line in the sand.

(y/n) shuts the cabinet and turns to him with her hands on her hips.  A serious look flashes across her expression that he can’t tell if it’s meant to be in humor or if she’s actually about to drop the playful atmosphere.  With a step towards him, she leans over so her height matches his, and they’re face to face.

“Takuma Ino,” She declares, eyes boring into his with an intensity that makes him gulp down on air.  “Unless you want some really funky looking scars, don’t go asking me to stitch you up.  Leave it to your magic friends” 

His anxious expression drops as he breaks into a smile, amused by her choice of words, and her own face softens as she smiles back at him.  It was infectious, the way he smiled.  It could get her to crack even when she was really trying to be stubborn.  A secret weapon of his that (y/n) was pretty sure he used on purpose, but there were some instances she could be convinced that he had no clue of this power.

“My magic friends, huh?” He repeats with a smirk.  

He’d definitely have to tell Gojo about that one when he saw him next.  Surely it would feed into his ego, if not make him cackle.

(y/n) stands up again, her cheeks suddenly feeling a little too warm, before she spins around and heads out of the bathroom.  Finally, Ino stands, stretching his sore limbs and checking over the array of bandages on his arm before following after her.

“Or better yet, just don’t get yourself hurt anymore” (y/n) adds, her back turned to him as she makes her way towards her room.

“Oh wow, I hadn’t thought of that” He shot back in a mocking voice.  He knows she rolls her eyes, even if he can’t see.

“Just sayin’, why don’t you work on that technique where stuff doesn’t touch you? Like that one guy?” 

He has to bite his cheek to keep himself from breaking out into a fit of laughter.  She was trying her best to understand how jujutsu worked, even if she was a little off the mark.  There was also something so rewardingly funny about someone not remembering who Gojo Satoru was- even if she’d never met the guy.

“Not exactly how it works,” He replies.  (y/n) turns to him as she stands in the middle of her doorway.  Her tiredness is more evident now in the way she leans against it and blinks slowly back at him.  “Pretty sure I gotta stick with the one I was born with”  

She hums, pursing her lips as she tries to recall all of his explanations for the finicky sorcerer world.  But her mind is foggy with exhaustion and she’s getting a little too swept up in how softly his brown eyes gaze at her, so she shakes her head and finally turns towards her room.

“Noted,” She tells him, knocking twice on her frame before grabbing the handle of her door and pulling it behind her.  “G’night Ino” 

His heart warms as he bids her goodnight, and he lingers in the empty apartment for a few more seconds before making his way into his own bedroom.  

Every minute spent with her felt special and worth basking in, even when nothing significant happened, even when it was a completely normal night.  Just being around her was enough for his insides to melt into a buttery mess.

When he goes to sleep, he hopes to see her in his dreams, where he doesn’t have to feel anxious or guilty about his feelings, and he can be with her freely, without a care in the world.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“There’s gonna be this… work thing… next weekend,” 

He brings it up out of nowhere, although he’s spent a while trying to find a way to say it, he actually blurts it out in the middle of the two of them watching a movie.  So it’s not actually surprising when (y/n) turns towards him with a puzzled look on her face, already reaching for the remote to pause the movie.

Tonight she sits close enough that with his arm strewn across the back of the couch, it could almost feel like they were cuddled up together.  Even though they’re not touching- unless you counted the stray hairs that fell from her claw clip and brushed his arm behind her head.

“If you wanted to come, anyways,” Ino clears his throat uncomfortably, suddenly feeling a little more on the spot with the movie stopped and her full attention on him.  “Gojo’s hosting, said anyone can come, I- I don’t have that many details yet, but, um, I’ll probably go, since Nanami said he was-” 

“And I’m allowed to go?” She ends his suffering with her question, her brows raising in shock.

“Allowed?” Ino repeats the choice of word, followed by a short chuckle.  “Of course you are, why do you say it like that?” 

“I dunno,” Her shoulders shrug limply, although she knows exactly why she asks.  “Cause… I’m not like you, I guess” 

Ino’s never given too much thought to their differences.  Besides when he’d realized he’d have to tell her the truth about his career, and they had spent hours on this very sofa while he explained the complicated history of jujutsu, and the ins and outs of curses and cursed techniques.  She’d had her uncertainties, and endless questions, but after that talk, the stark differences in the lives they led outside of this apartment rarely came up.  He could almost say it didn’t matter, but he didn’t want to diminish either of their careers.

Now, as he watches her begin to curl up like she was trying to shrink into herself, his heart falls a little bit.  Did she really feel like she didn’t deserve an invite? Just because she was a non-sorcerer? In his eyes, it certainly didn’t make her any less of a person.  He could almost laugh.  How could a person like her feel that way? Someone so good hearted, hard working, brilliant, gorgeous- 

“Ino?” She presses forward, drawing him out of his derailed train of thoughts.  He blinks a few times as he comes back to the present moment.

“I want you to come” He says, feeling much bolder than he had when he first brought the subject up.

Now she’s blinking back at him wordlessly, eyes going round and a smile tugging at her lips.

“You do?” She asks, just to be sure, even though there’s not a doubt in her mind that he means it, with how genuine and hopeful his expression is.  Warmth blooms in her face, and she hopes that her blush isn’t too embarrassing.

It’s not.  Ino finds it utterly adorable, and quite endearing.

“Yeah,” He affirms with a nod of his head, before pushing a hand through his hair to pull it away from his face.  “I want you to meet everyone.  And I want them to finally meet you, too.  If you want to, that is” 

Her smile widens a little further as she nods back at him, the movement jittery and short, displaying her eagerness in it’s fullest.

“Sounds fun.  I’d love to,” She says softly.  Ino lights up with excitement, sitting up a little straighter as he beams at her.

However, before he can reach for the remote and start their movie up again, she snatches it away, a curious expression crossing her features as she studies him.

“But what do you mean finally, hm?” She muses, the question only half-playful.  Curiosity did get the best of her after all.  “Have they been dying to meet me or something?” 

He makes a face at her that makes her laugh, her eyes lighting up as his expression alone confirms what she’d been thinking.

“Have you been talking about me to your coworkers, Ino?” She teases, her grin practically splitting her face.

“Don’t be an idiot, of course I do,” He tries to play it off, reaching out for the remote again, but she pulls her hand away just before he can take it, subsequently having him lean almost fully across her, his arm outstretched towards the object that could free him of this torture.  “(y/n)” He huffs in annoyance, frowning at her when she still doesn’t play the movie.

“Nuh uh,” She says childishly while shaking her head.  “What do you tell them about me?” She presses further.

He wants to roll his eyes, and huff and groan until she’s annoyed into going back to their movie- which had just been starting to get good before he started this whole thing- but he can’t.  He just can’t bring himself to do it.  Not when she’s grinning up at him and he swears he sees an actual sparkle in her eyes.

“C’mon dummy, they know all about you” Again, Ino tries to play it off like it’s not a big deal.  

(As if he hadn’t gone on a long winded story to Nanami just the other day about how he was going to surprise her with a fruit bouquet of mangos on her nearing birthday, because she’d recently become obsessed with the tangy fruit and demanded they picked up the most overpriced ones every time they went to the grocery store.  Nanami had little to know interest in hearing about all the places Ino had researched who make fruit arrangements and how he hadn’t deemed any of them good enough yet) 

“All about me, huh?” She repeats curiously, before humming, content with the response.  

Then she finally pushes play on the remote before dropping it onto the cushion beside her.  Ino sends a silent thank you prayer to whatever greater force was looking out for his dignity, and settles back into his seat.

He swears when (y/n) gets settled, she’s sat just a little bit closer to him.  He’s pretty sure her shoulder wasn’t grazing against his earlier.

They’re a few minutes in before she speaks up again, her voice merely a soft whisper beside him.

“You didn’t have to be all shy about it.  I talk about you at work all the time” 

Ino can barely keep his focus on the whole rest of the movie.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The work event isn’t necessarily a fancy one.  There’s not a dress code, and despite Ino’s worries with Gojo organizing it, it’s not at some five star establishment he couldn’t even afford to look at.  It’s held at a small local restaurant and bar.  

Gojo does, however, rent out the place for the evening, so the only patrons tonight would be those from Jujutsu Tech, and whoever they decide to bring.

Despite it being business casual at most, it still feels like it’s the most dressed up he’s ever gotten for going somewhere with (y/n).  Maybe it’s just his heart working on overdrive after seeing the simple but sleek black dress she’d chosen to wear for the night, paired with a little mesh wrap that was tied in a little bow at her chest and flared at the sleeves for some personality- but as soon as the evening began, Ino was starting to overthink.

“I’ve never been here before,” (y/n) hums as they approach the venue.  “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this” 

She peeks a glance over at Ino as he’s also admiring the building.  It’s a rather small restaurant, but the architecture has enough character that it’s worth getting a good look at before going inside.  Or maybe he was just stalling where he could.

He looks really nice tonight, she thinks, and the thought instantly makes her heart skip a beat as she takes a few more seconds to look at him.  He’s in dark slacks and a cotton black sweater that looks so soft she’s suddenly dying to pinch the fabric between her fingers to see for herself.  It’s paired with a white collared undershirt for a little extra flair- something she knows she once told him she liked seeing on a man- and without his mask piled up on top of his head his long hair wisps in slight curls around his ears, just barely touching his shoulders.

She knows she’s been staring for too long, but it takes a few tries before she actually pulls her gaze away from him.

“I wasn’t either,” Ino says, and it takes her a minute to remember what she’d even said.  “Knowing Gojo, I was expecting something… worse” 

(y/n) chuckles to herself, before nodding to the door.

“Time to enjoy not worse?” She prompts, and he grins before gesturing for her to follow him inside.

Ino reaches over her shoulder to push the door open, only to follow behind her with a gentle hand on her back guiding her in.  The silk of her dress is so smooth and thin against the light graze of his hand that he can feel the heat of her skin through it, and it takes a mental talk with himself in order to keep him from pressing his hand fully against her back.

She gives him a sweet smile in gratitude, before both of their attention is pulled away by the shrill of cheering amongst the chatter of people in the restaurant.

There weren’t a lot of people- there weren’t many jujutsu sorcerers to begin with- but there were enough to fill the room with a certain level of white noise with background conversation.  All of that was drowned out by a small group of people currently shouting and beckoning Ino and his date over towards them.

Most of the shouting came from Gojo, but Shoko and Utahime seemed to be at just the right amount of intoxicated to join in with loud bouts of laughter.  Nanami is also at the table, politely sipping his drink with a mere nod of greeting as Ino brings (y/n) their way.

“I guess I should have given you some warnings” He says under his breath as they make their way through the slight crowd. 

Most of the managers are grouped together, Nitta giving a friendly wave in passing before going back to a heated argument that made Ino and (y/n) chuckle to themselves.  It lightened some of the tension in (y/n’s) shoulders.  She didn’t want to bother him with her silly anxieties, but she’d been quite worried about showing up to an event full of people who were extraordinary, meanwhile she was merely a salary worker.

Don’t get her wrong, she worked hard and was proud of how quickly she’d moved up in the ranks, but how could she compare that to people with other-worldly abilities? People who actively saved lives? 

“Warnings?” She murmurs, glancing over at him, only to find his gaze already set on her.

“Not- not bad ones, necessarily,” Ino stammered.  “It’s just… Gojo is loud, and nosy, but he’s a good time and he means no harm, promise,” 

(y/n) nods in understanding, eyes flickering back to the table of sorcerers they were currently headed towards.  She had a pretty good idea of which one was Gojo.

“Nanami’s quiet.  He looks judgemental, but he’s not.  Well- maybe a little, but he’s polite.  So.  It’s fine, I don’t have any warnings about Nanami, he’ll like you a lot” 

“Yeah?” A flattered smile spreads across her glossy lips.  It was silly to take pride in being liked by a stranger, but she knew how much Ino looked up to his mentor, and it made her heart flutter to think he believed the man he respected so much would approve of her.

“Absolutely,” Ino’s voice is rich with certainty as he nods at her.  “Shoko’s kind of a weirdo, that’s just cause she works in the morgue all day so her sense of humor is… warped.  Utahime is her not-very-secret girlfriend, I’ve told you about that right?” 

(y/n) nods in confirmation.  She may have never met these people, but she felt like she knew most of them well enough just from the late night gossip sessions they’d have after a shared bottle of wine.

“Any questions?” He asked, slowing their steps the closer they got to the table.  

It was just like Gojo to set his little crew of odd semi-forced friends up in the corner where they could have some privacy, even though they were the loudest bunch of the whole gathering.  At least he had the decency to rent the place out so the only people he was bothering were those he already bothered on a regular basis.

“No,” (y/n) said softly, before reaching out and curling her fingers around the sleeve of his shirt, bringing his attention back towards her.  “Just one request?” 

Ino gives her a small nod, halting in place as he stares at her with a grave seriousness in his eyes.

“Don’t ditch me here?” 

He almost laughs at the ask, but he stops himself when he notes the hints of anxiety hidden in her expression.  The twitch at the corner of her mouth, the slight pinch in her brow.  He clears his throat and nods at her, before grinning widely.

“Of course not!” He declares, squeezing her wrist gently before she drops her hold on his sleeve.  “What do you take me for? A gentleman would do no such thing” 

And as they finally approach the table of Ino’s closest colleagues, they’re both laughing, and some more tension is relieved from her shoulders.

Ino’s quick to introduce her, and he goes around the table to remind her of everyone’s names quickly, trying to get the awkward stage out of the way as quickly as possible.  Everyone behaves well enough, or as well as he could hope for.  Utahime’s a bit excitable as she compliments (y/n’s) dress and sparkling accessories, but it helps to break the ice as the two slip into conversation about their favorite boutiques.

Ino wants to point out that the Kyoto based sorcerer never was one for small talk with him, but he keeps his mouth shut solely because (y/n) warms up to her and Shoko quickly and he doesn’t want to throw a wrench in their bonding.

Gojo’s clearly in the middle of some wild and possibly partially made up retelling about a special grade curse he’d exorcized on a recent assignment, so after introductions he resumes his exaggerated storytelling, giving (y/n) and Ino time to order drinks and chat with Shoko and Utahime a little longer.

“You’re pretty brave for coming,” Shoko points out to (y/n), earning a slight glare from Ino, to which she backtracks and waves her hand dismissively.  “I just mean because this is the worst” 

“I don’t think so” (y/n) shrugs with a sweet smile as she sips her drink.

“You don’t know us that well yet, you’ll change your mind later,” Utahime chimes in.  “This,” She gestures towards Gojo, who’s talking wildly with his hands as he reaches the climax of his story.  “Is why I took off to Kyoto, first chance”

It earns a laugh from Shoko and Ino, so (y/n) forces a small chuckle as well, but so far she couldn’t complain about the company.  Sure, the white haired man wearing sunglasses inside in the evening seemed a bit theatrical and high energy, but it was a party setting, right? So she could give him the benefit of the doubt for now.

“Speaking of-” Shoko gets up from her seat, not so subtly tapping Utahime’s hand, “I need a smoke” 

“Oh, yeah, me too”

Utahime glances at (y/n) and Ino with a raised brow, silently offering them to join, but one look at Shoko’s wide eyes tells them to shake their heads and stay in place.  Even if they did smoke, they were clearly not wanted at this particular break.

Once they’re out of sight, (y/n) turns to Ino, obviously fighting a grin on her face, before she leans in close to talk a little more privately.

“Oh, it’s painfully obvious” 

He laughs back at her, nodding his head in agreement before tapping the rim of his glass against hers.

Their moment is broken up when long limbs stretch across the empty space that Utahime and Shoko had left, and apparently Gojo had wrapped up his story because now he’s slinking towards the two with a coy grin on his face.

“We haven’t been properly introduced, have we?” 

(y/n) fights the urge to stagger backwards as he comes close.  He has a wild sort of energy surrounding him.  He’s intimidating, but not in a way that makes her afraid, just very aware of how large and powerful he is.  She wonders if even a non-sorcerer like her can pick up on signatures of cursed energy, or if this was just his raw aura.

But the way he smiles is inviting and the bubbly giggles that erupt from him provide nothing but a feeling of friendliness, as if he was someone (y/n) had known for years.

“Almost a year” She answers, forcing a smile that she hopes doesn’t come across as awkward as it feels.

“Wow, a whole year!” He cheers, raising his glass at the accomplishment.  “That’s absolutely marvelous.  A whole year, huh?” He repeats it again thoughtfully, tilting his head just slightly.

Ino’s not sure if she’s noticed, but since Gojo approached them, he hadn’t once torn his eyes off of her.  Perhaps she couldn’t tell with the dark shades covering his line of sight, but Ino had gotten quite used to reading Gojo’s body language even with the blockage of a blindfold.  

He also wasn’t a complete dunce, he knew that the way she looked tonight made it difficult for anyone to take their eyes off of her.  Even Utahime had gotten that glazed over look after they talked for long enough.  No one was immune, it seemed, but Gojo was probably the only person in the room that sparked a nasty feeling in Ino’s chest with the way he smirked down at her.

The feeling is a dull heat, only ignited into something worse when Gojo pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head, bright blue eyes on full display, and now so obviously focused on (y/n).

“How does someone go a whole year living with a pretty thing like you and not make a move, hm?” 

Ino’s face twists up with shock and disgust, which humors Gojo as he begins to cackle, but he still doesn’t spare a glance away from (y/n), who barely reacts at all as she stands before them.  She simply tilts her glass around, slowly mixing the ice around her drink.  She doesn’t crack a laugh, but she also doesn’t give any sign that she’s upset with the unabashed flirting.

Neither of them are given the proper chance to respond to the bold comment, as suddenly Nanami’s approaching them, shooting Gojo a look that made the special grade sorcerer head off with some excuse about a fresh drink.

Thankfully, Nanami completely changes the subject of conversation, and Ino does his best to forget about what just happened as (y/n’s) properly introduced to his mentor.  They shake hands, exchange a few pleasantries, but are ultimately quick to jump into conversation about Ino himself- even with him still standing there.  

A lot of the stories they share are more embarrassing than he’d like, but he’s able to stand it for a little while.  For both of them, at least.  They were the most important people in his life after all, he’d been eager for them to finally meet.

But as soon as (y/n) gets Nanami to actually laugh about her first witnessing his cursed technique over an unwanted bug in the apartment, Ino finds himself using the same lame excuse of grabbing them a couple more drinks before he’s darting away from the downright humiliating memory.

(y/n) giggles and doesn’t even indulge Nanami in the story once Ino’s walked away.  She’d just wanted to make him sweat a little, and clearly his mentor had gotten a kick out of it as well.

“He clearly adores you,” Nanami says, cutting through the light hearted atmosphere with a statement so genuine that (y/n’s) features soften as she takes in his words.  “I’ll give him that.  He’s a good sorcerer, and person.  And clearly his judgment is well founded” 

It’s a… distinguished compliment, that’s for sure.  (y/n) finds herself blushing and she can’t even quite explain why.  Was it the compliment itself or the insinuation behind it? Ultimately she decides to play it off due to the slight buzz she was running on.

“I’m certainly lucky to have him,” She says, and just as she glances around the room to see where he’d gone, he’s already heading back towards her with two drinks in his hands.  “I owe a greater force big time for bringing me to him, don’t I?” She murmurs.

She doesn’t look back at Nanami when she speaks, her eyes too focused on the man headed in her direction.  The blonde sorcerer ducks his head and tries to cough over his chuckling.  It’s a pitiful attempt, but judging the glazed over look in her eyes as Ino comes near, he could probably count on her not having noticed his humored state.

“Thank you” She hums when Ino hands her the fresh glass, taking the empty one from her other hand and placing it on an empty table behind him.

“Did I take too long?” He asks, just quiet enough for her to hear.

There’s a look on her face he can’t quite read, but it’s so lovely he couldn’t even be bothered to try to decipher it as he smiles fondly back at her.

Nanami takes a subtle step backwards as he watches them mirror that lovesick look at one another.

“Not at all, I was just getting to know your mentor a little better,” She tells him, gesturing to Nanami, who had now turned and was walking away completely.  “He has very kind things to say about you” 

She tilts her head at him as her smile grows a little wider.  Ino raises a brow back at her, unable to help the small bit of laughter that escapes him as he holds her stare.

“That so?” He hums, growing amused as he realizes she’s just a little bit drunk.  “Are you having a good time?” He asks, and she knows he’s really asking if she’s feeling the alcohol a bit, but she nods back at him anyways, unbothered by the hidden question.

“I am, I’m glad you brought me” 

His smile softens.

“Me too” 

Utahime and Shoko return shortly after, and soon the four of them are seated at one end of the table sharing all sorts of stories, from work to drama to things they definitely didn’t need to share for being new acquaintances, (y/n) hit it off with the pair so well Ino didn’t want to do anything to reel her in.  He was just relieved to see her getting along with the people of that part of his life.

It also helped that throughout the night she seemed to draw closer and closer to him.  Whether they were walking up to the bar and she kept so close their arms brushed together, or when they sat down and she pulled her chair close to his so that when she was leaning into the table she was reaching across his lap and almost completely in his space.  Ino could almost pretend that she was his date for the night.  He’d weakly mustered up the courage to drape his arm over the back of her chair, but that was as much of a leap as he was willing to take.

Not long after though, she raised her empty glass in his direction, and her free hand reached over her shoulder where his hand dangled off her chair, so her fingers could wrap around his.

“Another?” She hums curiously, still swirling the glass in a small circle.

His hand unintentionally twitches when her soft skin brushes over it, and as if on instinct, she slots her fingers between his.

She’s touched him before, of course, it’s not like he’s never had skin-to-skin contact before.  When patching him up, or bumping into each other in the kitchen.  One thing was certain, though… they never held hands.

And she holds his hand now with that pretty smile on her face as she waits for him to answer her question- wait, shit, how long has it been since she asked him that question?

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get another round” He agrees, and carefully slides his chair back before standing, not wanting to bump into hers.

Even when she stands, she keeps her fingers curled between his.  Ino’s not sure if she’s even aware of it- should he pull his hand away? Or perhaps she was just a bit drunk and didn’t want to stumble in her heels- so keeping his hold on her would be the right thing to do, right? 

She gives Shoko and Utahime a cheeky little wave before following beside Ino towards the bar.  Their hands still clasped together between them.  He wonders if she knows that she’s making his heart race at an unhealthy pace.

But she must know, she must realize she’s still holding it, because once they approach the bar and wait for their drinks, she’s lazily swinging their conjoined hands back and forth as she strikes up a conversation with him.

“This is much cooler than any work event I’ve ever gone to,” She tells him.  “It’s always at a chain restaurant, and there’s a socially acceptable amount of drinks you can have” 

Ino chuckles at the slight pout on her face, and finds himself giving into the slight swing of their arms.  “This stuff barely ever happens,” He shrugs.  “Probably because most people can only take Gojo in concentrated amounts,” 

Her eyes are wide as she nods at him in understanding.  In the brief interaction she’d had with the special grade sorcerer, she already completely understood what he meant.

“But if this doesn’t end in disaster and there’s a chance for another one in eight to eighteen months, you’re invited” He teases.

She lights up like a christmas tree, as if he’s just promised her tickets to a sold out tour of her favorite artist, or a seat on the next shuttle to the moon.  Her lips curl into the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen, eyes glimmering with her excitement and honor, and if Ino wasn’t swooning as hard as he was, he might’ve chuckled at the drunken delight.

“Really?” She gushes, eyebrows raising with her hope.  “You will?” 

A breath of a laugh escapes him as he nods, and she rocks on her feet momentarily, too giddy to stand still.  He can’t help but reflect her grin back at her.

They’re handed their drinks, and finally (y/n) pulls her hand out of his.  He tries not to show his disappointment.  Before Ino can think of something clever to say, something that borders the line of teasing and flirting that he’s usually so good at tip-toeing over, someone else joins them at the bar.

Gojo Satoru on a regular day is a menace.  Although Ino didn’t always mind, not like his mentor did.  More often than not, he’d match the energy and get a good laugh in for the day.  But at a work-social event?  Gojo was insufferable.  Ino had already decided this the second he’d decided to hit on (y/n).

Was he irritated for the right reasons? No.  Was he actively trying to get over his feelings for his sweet, perfect, beautiful roommate? Maybe.  Did that mean shit? Absolutely not.

He’s decided that as soon as Gojo purrs out another flirty line- which he’s bound to do judging from the way he’s currently looking at her- that he’s going to take her hand again and drag her away without a word.  His heart starts to race in his chest from the anticipation, knowing that it’s soon to come once Gojo’s done chatting her up about how swell of time she’s having.

As powerful as he was, Gojo Satoru could be a bit predictable.

“You know, I could show you some pretty neat things at Jujutsu Tech if you ever wanted to learn more about sorcery,” He’s good at disguising his propositions as simple acts of kindness.  Ino’s jaw twitches as it tenses, his teeth clamping down together.  “I’m a really good teacher, you know” 

“Oh?” (y/n) scoffs, she’s faster to react than Ino, and for being at a giggly-level of intoxicated, she plays off her scoff as playful as she quirks an eyebrow up at him.  “You should probably save it for your students, then,” She says, and Ino fights the urge to snicker.  Not very well, though, it’s pretty obvious when he purses his lips and his eyes crinkle with humor.  “Besides, I’m taken” 

Ino does a full double take, the joy on his face falling and transforming into one of utter bewilderment.  If (y/n) notices the reaction, she chooses to ignore it, too busy staring down Gojo with a pointed smile that seemed sweet but screamed get lost instead.

Gojo doesn’t seem remotely offended by the bomb drop of a refusal.  In fact, he almost looks amused by it.  He grins from ear to ear as he nods back at her in understanding.

“Of course,” He murmurs, his gaze finally shifting towards Ino, only for a moment, before it’s focused on (y/n) again.  “I wasn’t trying to offend” He says, and it’s genuine.

(y/n) beams.

“You didn’t” 

With that, Gojo nods again, and then he disappears again.  Off to mess with someone else, they suppose.  Ino’s pretty sure Nanami was left unattended and he’s likely the next victim.  If the situation wasn’t so pressing, he’d probably rush off to save his mentor from the torment.  

Sorry, Nanami.

“Taken?” 

He turns to (y/n) with a look on his face that makes her brighten up.  That cute look of confusion mixed with curiosity, she just had to bask in the adorable way his brows would pinch then relax, then pinch and relax, as he struggled to keep his expression neutral.  She giggles, her smile turning toothy as she lets him baffle himself for a few seconds longer.

And then, in that soft, saccharine voice, she murmurs up at him.

“Well, I sort of am, aren’t I?” 

The night didn’t last much longer after that.  Once Shoko and Utahime were tapping out and slowly leaving the venue so as not to be bombarded by anyone- Gojo- (y/n) clung to Ino’s side a little more, and grew a bit quieter as it got later, her buzz turning into sleepiness.  

It wasn’t until Nanami made his departure that Ino decided to call it.  The only other people who were still in for the night were the managers who didn’t know when to quit.

(y/n’s) leaning back in her chair, working on drinking a second glass of water and hardly paying attention to the conversation happening around her.  She’d pulled her arms out of the sleeves of her wrap, but she let the material stay draped over her shoulders.  Ino was convinced that she might fall asleep right there in her seat.

In the last couple of minutes, he’s glanced over to find her staring at him five or six times.  Eventually he can’t hide the way his smile betrays him, and he mumbles a ‘what?’ under his breath at her.

She giggles back at him, airy and carefree, before she leans over to brush a lock of hair that curled around his ear.  A noticeable blush dusted over his cheeks as soon as her finger grazed his skin, even though the motion is just her drunken form of platonic affection, she leans so close that he can smell her perfume, and even once she’s tucked the piece of hair behind his ear, she lingers there for just a minute longer.  The lump in Ino’s throat is too large for him to talk through, so all he can do is hope his eyes aren’t ridiculously wide as he stares back at her, before she settles back in her seat again.

He thinks he might cancel his upcoming haircut appointment.  Even though it’s length was starting to get a bit annoying, he might try out the longer hairstyle for a while.  And if (y/n) continues to reach out to give it a little tuck behind his ear then that would simply be a minor bonus, wouldn’t it? 

It dawns on him after he spirals on the thought for a while that the night should be wrapped up soon.  It was time to get back home where he could chug some water and hopefully forget about how much he’d embarrassed himself tonight.

“Hey,” Ino murmurs, tapping the back of her hand gently to get her attention.  Her eyelids are heavy as she glances over at him, a small smile gracing her lips.  “You ready to go home?” 

(y/n) wakes up a bit more at that, nodding her head and tucking her arms through the sleeves of her wrap.

They slip out not long after that.  Ino keeps his arm around her waist, murmuring something about keeping her upright that he’s not even sure she hears before she’s leaning against him, slowly walking along the sidewalk on their way to the train station.  The walk and ride home is mostly silent, but it’s comfortable.  He wouldn’t ask for anything else, as long as she was tucked into his side like she belonged there, like he was made to hold her like this.

He’s not sure if the heaviness in his heart is because he’s so full of love, or if it’s because he knows deep down that this would be the closest to having her as his as he could get.  Nonetheless, he keeps his hold on her secure until they’re back in the safety of their apartment.

“Thanks for the fun night, Ino,” She murmurs after kicking her shoes off by the door.  “Let’s definitely do it again sometime, ‘kay?” 

He can only manage a small smile and a nod of agreement back at her.  

“I better get to bed, I’m going to pass out,” She lets out a tired little laugh, but before heading off, she steps closer to him, hand reaching out to give his shoulder a squeeze.  Again, he gives her a smile, about to bid her goodnight as he usually does, but before he can say anything, she’s leaning up and pressing her lips against his cheek.

She kissed him.

He blinks, and she’s already pulled away, still smiling before she’s headed off to bed with a quiet goodnight hanging between them.  

Needless to stay he stands at the door with his shoes still on for embarrassingly longer than necessary, his fingers ghosting over the spot on his face her lips had just blessed.

He was set back a few paces in his whole getting over her plan, tonight.  In fact, he might’ve been knocked all the way back to square one.

Oh well, there was always tomorrow to try again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“You should really make a move on that roommate of yours, you know” 

Nanami’s sudden advice has Ino swiveling his head away from lunch, nearly giving himself whiplash as he stares at his mentor in shock.  They hadn’t even talked about the event last friday, so far their talk today had been strictly work related.

(Except for when Ino saw a cat across the street while on a patrol and he insisted that Nanami named the stray before they went on their way.  That was less-than work related)

“What?” The word comes out in a mere squeak, disbelief evident in his twisted expression, but he’d heard Nanami perfectly clear.  The man nods again, chewing thoughtfully on his food before swallowing, and continuing on with his moment of advice.

Nanami didn’t often feel the need to give his pupil guidance outside of jujutsu sorcery.  Ino was quite capable of taking care of himself, for being a young man with an odd form of income, he’d always taken care of himself well.  

Now, however, the 7-3 sorcerer felt the need to involve himself with this one.  And he wasn’t afraid to tell his apprentice that he was being an idiot.

“She’s a quite lovely young woman,” Nanami continues, and Ino already feels himself begin to blush.  “It was a pleasure to meet her.  I can see why you like her so much” 

Ino gives a shaky nod, still suspicious of where this was all headed, and why Nanami was pushing him to make a move- or so he’d said.

“Yeah…” Ino agrees unsurely.  “(y/n’s)... great” 

Nanami hums as he nods his head, adjusting his glasses before sitting up straighter in his seat, giving Ino an unsettling amount of direct attention.

“She’s clearly infatuated with you,” The blonde sorcerer says bluntly.  “So what’s holding you back, hm?” 

Ino opens his mouth, but when an excuse doesn’t immediately come to mind, he shuts it again.  He gapes a few more times, and Nanami is patient as he waits to hear whatever terrible excuse he comes up with, but eventually it becomes clear that Ino’s been stunned into silence, so Nanami takes over again.

“You’re a capable young man, Takuma.  Whatever is holding you back, it’s time to let go of it.  I only had to talk to her for a few minutes to know that that young lady is in love with you” 

Ino’s still gaping like a fish, but as the words sink in, he snaps his mouth shut, and swallows the lump in his throat.

“What- uh- why are you telling me this?” He stammers out.  

Nanami sighs softly, a small smile gracing his lips.  It was heartwarming to see the shy young love blossoming before him.  At least, when it wasn’t obnoxiously ignored by Takuma.

“Because it’s obvious when you two look at each other.  Usually that means it’s time to fess up” 

“Wait wait wait,” Ino put his hands up, leaning over the table they shared as he wrapped his mind around the sudden advice.  “Are you giving me… romance advice right now?” 

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Nanami grumbles, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.  “But you’re ignoring it” 

“So you agree it’s romance advice-” 

“You love her, don’t you?” Nanami interrupts him then, brows raised pointedly as he waits for the confirmation.  It was a simple yes or no question, wasn’t it? 

When Ino shuts his mouth and swallows hard, Nanami accepts that as answer enough.

“Then don’t you think you should tell her?” 

“I…” Well, he couldn’t exactly argue with such sound advice, could he? And he certainly wasn’t about to argue with the mentor he respected beyond belief.  “I just don’t want to ruin a good thing” He admits quietly.

Now, even his ears feel like they’re on fire with the admission.

“And if you never say a thing and eventually she moves on to someone else? You wouldn’t regret your choice?” 

Ino frowns.  He should have known Nanami was only going to hit him with logic.

He finishes his lunch quietly, a silence settling between them as Nanami feels as though he’d said what he needed to say.  Ino was clearly thinking it over pretty hard- seeing as he was making his thinking face throughout the rest of their lunch break- and now all Nanami could do was hope his words would stick.

At the end of the day he wanted to see his pupil happy.  Takuma Ino was a good egg, and he deserved happiness.

It would also help if he didn’t have to sit through another event where they made heart eyes at each other for two and a half straight hours.  But mostly that first thing.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Ino’s nervous when he approaches the door of his apartment that evening.  It was a nice night, his final assignment didn’t go too late, and he made it home at the early early time of seven p.m.

When he does unlock the door and let himself inside, it’s not a surprise to be instantly greeted by (y/n), who grins at him from the kitchen.

“Ino!” Her smile stretches from ear to ear when he walks into the apartment.  She’s in the kitchen, wearing the silly but cute duckling themed apron she wore anytime she was in the kitchen, even if she was only using the toaster, she’d put that apron on.

So cute, he sighs as he leans back against the door, at a loss for words.  So domestic.  (y/n) looks puzzled by him staying at the door without coming in all the way, or saying hello.

With a concerned knot between her brows, she drops the utensil in her hand on the counter, and makes her way towards him.

“Ino?” She calls worriedly.  “You alright?” 

“Yeah- yeah, I’m fine, just tired, s’all” He stammers back, finally pulling the beanie off his head and dropping it on the small table they keep by the door, then kicking off his shoes.

(y/n) frowns.

“Long day?” She lets out a sigh, then wraps her arms around herself as she awaits whatever terrible thing he has to share.

Jujutsu sorcery wasn’t always about unique talents and powerful people, she’d learned quickly.  She’d seen Ino return home with a weight that only failing innocent people could place on his shoulders.  Tonight, she assumes that the lost, glazed over look on his face is due to something of the sort.

“It’s not like that,” He says as he watches her expression sadden.  Ino forces a quick smile as he shakes his head at her.  “Don’t worry about it” 

She doesn’t look at him any different, still frowning, still waiting for him to tell her what’s on his mind.

“I am worried,” She murmurs gently.  She doesn’t want to push him, but she needed him to know that she was there for him if he needed to get something off his chest.  “Did something happen-?” 

“No- no it’s really not…” He tries to explain to her that his anxiety tonight has nothing to do with work, but he doesn’t yet know how to tell her that it had everything to do with her.  He wasn’t sure how she’d take it.  Wasn’t sure if it would come out right.

Growing more concerned by the second, (y/n) takes a larger step closer, her hands reaching out for his out of instinct.  He flinches slightly when she first takes hold of them, but he lets her.  He lets her squeeze onto them and pull them close to her.

“If you need to talk about it-” 

Ino doesn’t like the way she looks at him like she could break just thinking he was in some sort of pain.  So before he can refine the words in his mind, he blurts out what had been plaguing him.  

“What did you mean the other night when you told Gojo you were taken?” 

It does the trick, because her expression morphs instantly.  She’s staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes, lips still parted around the rest of her question that she now drops completely.  It catches her so off guard that she’s dead silent for a few seconds.

“And then you said you sort of were- what does that mean?” Ino’s prepared with another question, and she worries he’ll keep piling them on before she could come up with the proper answers for them.

Her face feels warm, and a nervous smile spreads on her lips, followed by a small chuckle that dies in her throat.  It’s a cute sound, anxious, but cute nonetheless.  It makes the corner of Ino’s lips tilt upwards upon hearing it.  It was a natural reaction, smiling whenever she would laugh.  He couldn’t help it.  Seeing her happy, even in a state of nervous energy, set butterflies free in his stomach in a way he hadn’t felt since his childhood.

“I… I meant…” She’s stuttering, voice failing her the longer his honey brown eyes are staring into hers.  “You know what I meant” She finishes the thought quietly, barely under her breath.

He softens, and then melts before her.  His hands squeeze her with the smallest amount of force, barely there, but enough for her to feel it.

She’s blushing, her cheeks a rosy shade of pink that’s so lovely he almost can’t stand it.  He leans towards her, watching as her eyes grow a little rounder upon the close proximity.

“(y/n),” He murmurs, so soft she wouldn’t have caught it if the syllables of her name didn’t brush against her skin with his breaths.  “I need you to tell me, alright? Because-” He pauses, his eyes flickering between hers for a moment, and she swears they dart down to her lips before raising to her eyes again.  “- because I need to know I’m not seeing things and- and making them up before I do something stupid that I can’t take ba-” 

“How stupid?” She cuts him off, pressing closer, as if it could get her an answer faster.  It might work, because she barely finishes the question before he’s replying.

“Very stupid” He breathes through the words, like it pained him to even say them.

The faintest of laughs fall from her lips, before she tilts her head and gazes up at him fondly.

“Who knew you thought twice about stupid things before you did them?” She teased.  It’s so soft, so sweet, that he cracks a smile.  It washes away all of his nerves, and his stupid idea doesn’t seem so stupid anymore.

Tugging on her hands, he pulls her closer to him, until she’s practically tripping into his chest, but he doesn’t care when they collide unceremoniously.  He’s already letting go of her hands so that she can brace them against his shoulders, steadying herself, and just in time before he’s cupping her face in his hands and slamming his lips against hers.

As sudden as the kiss is, (y/n) meets him with the fervor of a long awaited passion.  Her hands squeeze his shoulders, latching probably too tight but if it hurts he shows no sign of pain.

His lips are so soft, despite being chapped and his kisses being rushed, they were so gentle against hers that she could feel her knees wobbling.  He’d probably tease her for it later, but right now she couldn’t care.

He kisses her like they only have a limited amount of time.  As if they’re not at the entryway to their shared apartment.  His hands slide from her cheeks to the sides of her head, into her hair, holding onto her with a firm grip- as if she’ll slip away from him at any moment.

But the truth was, this was heaven.  She could stand here and kiss him and be kissed by him for hours.  Days, even.

He only pulls away from her when his body has him gasping for air, chest heaving, lips hanging open as he pants, she has to giggle just a little bit at his desperation.  Even if she matched it as well.

Their noses are still pressed together, and their hands remained latched onto one another as they both caught their breath.  Ino shares her laughter once the haze over his mind clears up and the reality of what they just did sinks in.

“So,” He mumbles, heavy eyes finding hers, making her fight the urge to steal another kiss.  “Stupid?” 

With a smile she tries to bite back, she shakes her head at him.

“No,” She murmurs back.  “Not stupid” 

Dinner is forgotten on the counter, going cold the longer it remains that way.  

Ino beats her to another kiss.  It feels like ages as they stand at the door embracing one another, kissing in between fits of giggles and sweet confessions, and kissing just to kiss.

He understood exactly what she meant when she’d said she was taken.  Because, well, he sort of was too.  Long before now.  His heart was stolen the day she responded to his ad, and with it their fates sealed.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ it’s better than i ever even knew // they say that the world was built for two // only worth living if somebody is loving you // and baby now you do. ]

[uluvjay]

Bed Chem-J. Drysdale & M. McTavish

Jamie Drysdale x fem! reader x Mason McTavish

In which the Ducks are in town and you three revisit something you thought got left in Anaheim

Warnings;? Smut, threesome, oral (m receiving), kissing, cursing, protected sex!, p in v, porn with a plot pretty much!, I apologize for any errors!

This follows my nasty girl au so i recommend reading these two parts first!

Day five of my Kinktober special!

You truly thought you’d never find yourself in this position ever again especially not after the trade.

However the bottle of wine and delicious steak dinner quickly escalated and next thing you knew your boyfriend and Mason had you trapped against the kitchen counter.

Your skirt was pushed up around your waist with masons hand between your thighs while Jamie’s lips were locked with yours.

You moaned into Jamie’s mouth as Mason pushed in a second finger, his rough fingers slightly thicker than Jamie’s.

“Missed this didn’t you.” Jamie spoke in your ear.

“Fuck yes.” You moaned, there was no use in lying Jamie could tell anytime you were.

Jamie knew something had brewed between the three of you after those nights in Anaheim and when he caught you drooling at masons workout photos a few weeks ago he knew what he had to do.

While he’d told you he invited Mason over for a simple dinner in your new Philadelphia apartment the two men had actually talked about sharing you again.

Mason grunted against your skin from where his tenth sunk into the opposite side of your neck, his scruffy beard tickling the sensitive skin.

“Feels so good Mase” you whimpered, head tipped back as you enjoyed the sensation of the two men against you.

The weight of their strong bodies pinning you against the counter had your mind spinning with dirty possibilities.

They were so alike but so different in bed, they both aimed to please you and that’s all that mattered to them but fuck when differences came in, they were very different.

Mason liked to fuck, and fuck hard. He wants you screaming till your voice is hoarse and throat raw as his back is cut open from your nails and you’re both so tired out that you can’t even move after.

Jamie loved to make love, he drew orgasm after orgasm from your body until you were shaking and crying. He fucked you deep and slow, fucking you right to sleep after your body was to spent to keep going.

Feeling both of them at the same for the first time in a year had your body feeling thousands of things at once.

Masons deep voice pulled you out of your head his encouraging words and sped up movements making you realize how close you were to reaching your end.

“Come on honey, can fell how tight your cunt is clenching around my fingers.” He purred in your ear as his teeth teasingly nipped the lobe.

Jamie smirked at the way your body responded, your mount dropping in a silent moan, body shaking as your high continued to rapidly approach.

“Gonna cum for Mason baby?” He asked dark eyes locking with yours admiring the blown out look in your doe eyes.

“Mhm” you nodded the overwhelming pleasure not allowing you to get a proper word out.

“Come for us, come all over my fingers while your boyfriend watches like the little slut you are.” Mason smirked.

And come you did, your body shook as your back arched into the air eyes rolling to the back of your head as the pleasure became to much for a second.

Both men watched as the pleasure raked through your body, sharing a smirk as you went slightly unresponsive for a moment until Mason moved to pull his fingers from your dripping cunt.

Your eyes snapped open watching as the brunette brought them to his mouth and sucked, a low groan leaving his body at the taste.

“Missed the taste of that pretty cunt.” He smirked dipping down to connect your lips.

You moaned at the taste of yourself allowing his tongue to fill your mouth as he took lead, you wrapped your arms around him, hand tangling into the curls at the base of his neck.

Pulling away you turned to look at Jamie who stood next to the pair of you, eyes glittering with lust as his bulge pushed against the tight denim of his jeans.

You could feel masons poking your lower stomach, knowing both men were just as needy as you were you moved away from them.

On shaky legs you begin to move towards your and Jamie’s bedroom, slowly pulling of your top and throwing it behind you.

Next thing to follow the trail was your bra and soon your skirt, looking back you found them both staring with hungry eyes.

“Coming?” You smirked before disappearing down the hall and into the master bedroom.

By the time both men got their shit together you were laying in the middle of the lush bed, condoms ready on the bedside table.

They both groaned at the sight of your bare body, quickly stripping of their clothes they joined you on the bed.

Jamie made quick work of flipping your body so you were on your hands and knees with Jamie in front of you and mason behind.

And wow was the Deja vu strong.

“Masons gonna fuck you while I take your mouth, that okay baby?” He asked.

“Yes, please.” You begged looking up at him with nothing but hunger and lust.

He smirked at your expression before handing Mason a condom.

You could hear Masons small whimpers as he slid the latex over his thick cock and it didn’t take long before you felt the cool material rubbing at your entrance.

“Ready pretty girl?” He asked.

“Yes fuck me Mason, please.” You whined wiggling your hips against him in desperation.

The man chuckled at your antics before he pressed forward sliding his cock in inch by inch to allow you some time to adjust.

Jamie watched as your mouth dropped open at the mix of pleasure and pain, your eyes squeezing shut until Mason was all the way in.

You released a breath of air at the feeling, you were so fucking full. Where Mason was a little thicker than Jamie they were just about the same length so you were used to how deep the man was sitting inside of you.

Seeing that you were content Jamie guided his cock to your mouth smirking as you opened it with no hesitation.

He groaned as he slid inside of your warm and wet mouth, he went till his cock his the back of your throat and your small gags filled the room.

He sent a nod towards his friend and next thing you knew they were moving at the same time the pleasure causing you to cry out so loud you were sure the people next door could hear.

The pleasure was overwhelming it filled every inch of your body to have both of them sharing you again.

The way Masons hands came down against your ass as Jamie’s hands pulled on your roots had your body shivering with need.

“Such a good girl.” Mason grunted from behind you.

“Taking us so good.” Jamie joined in on his friend’s praise.

You pulled away from Jamie to catch your breath stroking him with your hand you looked behind you, catching sight of Masons sculpted body.

“You two feel so good, filling me up so good.” You babbled before Jamie was bringing your mouth back to his cock.

The sounds in the room were downright dirty, a mix of your gags on Jamie’s cock and Masons skin slapping against yours had your mind reeling.

You could feel the band in your lower stomach getting tighter and tighter the mix of the both of them with your earlier orgasm making it hard for you to hold the next one off.

You pulled off Jamie with a pop, “Getting close.” You cried out before dropping back down to take his cock once again.

Mason didn’t need you to tell him, he could feel the way your cunt clenched around him the way your moans got louder and louder around Jamie’s cock with every thrust.

He couldn’t lie he was almost there himself, it had been a year since he felt your tight cunt and he was struggling with himself not to come like some inexperienced teen.

Jamie was right on the edge as well, the vibrations of your moans had chills running down his spine, his grunts and groans no better then either of yours as your mouth worked wonders on his cock.

“Shit.” He moaned hands gripping your hair as he took full control and pushed his cock in and out of your mouth.

You held his eyes as he fucked your mouth watching as his chest began to heave and his thrusts got sloppy before eventually coming to small stutters as he came down your throat.

You didn’t hesitate to swallow it all, sticking your tongue out to show your boyfriend you swallowed it he shook his head at you.

“Such a nasty girl.” He panted before lying back against the headboard eyes now trained on how his friend continued to fuck you.

Jamie could tell you were close, your moans had turned into little pathetic cries and your thighs were beginning to shake slightly.

“Mase! Fuck I’m cumming.” You cried.

Jamie smirked at your words realizing he knew you just as well as you knew yourself.

“Go ahead pretty girl, milk my cock like a good slut.” Mason spoke.

His words sent you over the edge as your body began to quiver; freshly done nails digging into the cotton comforter as your mouth dropped open in a silent scream.

You pulled Mason over the edge with you, choppy moans filling the room as his hips began to stutter and he fucked the both of you through your Highs.

“Fuck, fuck fuck.” He groaned before spilling his load into the tight condom.

He took a second to catch his breath before pulling out slowly and collapsing on the bed next to your spent body while Jamie looked down at both of you.

The older of the two smiled as he watched you curl towards Mason for warmth and he took that as a sign to get you a bath started.

“I’ll be right back.” He spoke softly slipping off the bed and sliding his boxers back on as he disappeared into the bathroom.

Feeling Masons hand run over your hair you opened your eyes to find him smiling at you softly.

“You uh-you know I didn’t come here to just sleep with you right? I swear I really did miss you guys.” He spoke up.

Your heart ached at the worry etched on his face, “Hey, I know you would never do that Mason. You are to nice of a person for something like that, and thank you we missed you a lot too.” You smiled softly.

“It’s been so weird without you guys.” He hummed softly.

“Same here, it’s so weird not waking up to Trevor belting Katy Perry at seven in the morning or you screaming because you can’t find your socks.” You laughed.

“Hey! It’s not my fault that damn washer is a sock muncher” he groaned.

You guys shared a giggle at that before relaxing into a soft silence your eyes meeting once again and before you knew it both of you were leaning in.

You locked your lips in a soft kiss tongues dancing around each other as his strong hand rested on your hip pulling you closer to his sweaty body.

You two make out weakly until Jamie popped back in the room to let you know the bath was ready forcing you two apart.

Carrying you into the bathroom Mason sat you in the bath, asking Jamie where you kept the sheets so he could change them quickly.

Jamie joined you in the tub after his friend set off for new linens, his body relaxing behind yours he began to wash you.

“Thank you for this.” You spoke up.

“Don’t have to thank me baby, it’s something we both enjoy.” He shrugged, kissing the back of your neck softly.

You hummed at the feeling of him allowing his hands to continue running along your body as he washed you clean.

“Missed him a lot, it’s weird living without him and Z still” Jamie said after a few moments of relaxing silence.

“That’s what we were just talking about, it was nice seeing him.” You smiled.

Jamie agreed reaching for your shampoo to wash your hair continuing with your shower routine before he was up and drying himself off, helping you next.

You two exited the bathroom to find Mason laying on the clean bed with fresh clothes and wet curls hinting that he took a quick shower in the guest room.

“I’m gonna jump in the shower and I’ll be right out.” Jamie placed a kiss to your head before going back into the bathroom to wash himself properly.

“Feel better?” Mason questioned.

“Yes” you smiled grabbing some pajamas before getting into bed next to him snuggling close to his side to watch whatever he had on.

Jamie joined shortly after on your other side his large body sandwiching you between them as he too turned his eyes to what was playing on the tv.

You fell asleep like that, tucked between their strong bodies as they both held onto you like you’d slip away in their sleep.

There truly was noothing got better than that.

-

[king-craftsman]

To Be Shipshape

The night was still young and in its youth came hope. For many, these hopes were for a good night, dinners, dates, excited outings and illicit dealings. For Dean Winchester, hope came as a new lead. As his Impala drifted into the nearby parking lot of the harbour, his tense jaw and tight grip refused to loosen. This could be the night, the night where his hopes were met too, the night where he found out what happened to the missing men of this country. It had been nearly two months now and eight disappearances, all men, all at night, all at seaside towns. 

Someone joked that maybe it was some siren song that drew these men to the ocean; to let their bodies soak in the sea and taste its salt before they disappeared into the depths. In Dean’s line of work, something like that wasn’t a joke, it was a possibility. The engine of the Impala died at once as Dean stared at his target, the old ship that may have been the witness to it all, or the cause. Some said they saw an odd looking ship around the harbour, usually sailing away to disappear into the mist of the sea. 

There was only one conclusion Dean could come to, ghost ship. The ship looked like it was out of time, a wooden behemoth that creaked as it slowly danced upon the waves. Its sails were rolled up, an anchor of a rusted chain planted into the ocean and ropes that tied the ship to the docks. It was ancient, it was imposing and as Dean stepped closer, getting the hint of sea salt and something else, warm and spicy, he had to admit, it was beautiful. 

He glanced around, only the tides and the creaks of the ship were his companions at the docks. He had everything he needed and years of dealing with the supernatural to help, so he didn’t understand why he was taking so long to walk up the wooden steps, to let them groan underfoot and for him to board the ship. But it did, he stood there just taking it in. He had seen so many odd things on his journey but this ship, this odd slice of time that had thrown itself into the present, was definitely up there. 

Dean ventured forward. He didn’t know if it was perhaps the night, the growing height or the Fates themselves, but the wind soon picked up. Suddenly, the howl of the winds and jangle of chain were newfound companions as Dean climbed up the steps and went aboard deck. To say it was like entering a new world was an understatement, this felt to be a new realm, with its own laws, the first of which came through its sway. Dean had been on ships before, hell unlike Sam he never used to even get sea sick. But he stumbled as he took the first step and realised just how much the ship was swaying. 

For a second it felt as if the world was warping, as if to turn upside down and let the seas fall nowhere. But then the next second the sway came in the other direction and Dean stumbled again, struggling for footing until he clenched onto the bannister of the ship. It took a moment for him to be able to stand and then, it felt as if he would fall any minute, before he heard a voice. 

“Ahoy mate. Can I help ya?” Dean wasn’t sure what surprised him most, the fact he heard a voice or the voice itself. It sounded sultry, deep, a strong accent that carried itself on the winds. Dean looked to see a man step out of the doorway that led below deck and couldn’t believe what he saw, for all intents and purposes, it was a pirate. He was a short lean man dressed to the nines in dark leather. A short head of hair swayed in the wind and the bearded man was rugged, an undershirt exposing a slither of a muscular chest and a pendant. Fingers were adorned in rings that glinted in moonlight. And as he stepped closer, there was a new smell, a different smell, that emanated from the man and almost caused Dean’s eyes to water. “Mate, are ya alright? Ya look like ya don’t even got yer sea legs.” 

It was hard at first for Dean to understand what he meant until he realised he was still holding onto the side of the ship. 

“Uh right uhh...Who are you?” What the hell are you was more like it. Was this some sort of renaissance fair thing? Why was Dean on a swaying ship talking to a pirate? 

The pirate himself chuckled as if he could hear Dean’s thoughts. 

“Captain Killian Jones,” Killian introduced as he gestured out to the ship. It creaked in response. “And this is me ship, now I’ll ask again, who are ya? And what are ya doin’ here?” Dean didn’t think he’d get caught this easily. When he saw nobody was around, he thought maybe this was some enchanted ghost ship, somehow taking people and he’d be in and out. But the Fates laughed through the whistle of the wind. Nothing was ever so simple. 

“Dean.” He didn’t offer his hand to shake but instead stood up straighter as he glanced around at the deck. It wasn’t as if anybody else was coming up. “So...Who are you? What is this? Are you like part of some...I don’t know, some show or something?” 

Killian chuckled. 

Dean furrowed his brows. 

“Show? Aye mate, the best show on earth,” started Killian with a cocky grin that showed off his pearly whites. “A show of the seven seas itself, pirates, treasure, gallivanting and shanties. It’s a sight to see mate.” He gave Dean a wink, causing him to be taken aback. “Why don’t I show ya?” Dean thought about it. Every sense in him told him to get off the ship, that he’d come back with Sam, Cas and figure this out. But he was sure this was the ship and the ship always got away. This was his chance. But he shook his head. It was too risky a chance.

“Thanks but I…” Dean started but his sentence died in a weakening drawl as Killian stepped forward and suddenly the scent was back, stronger than ever. Dean couldn’t quite place it, this foreign concoction that had him blink away watering eyes and stifle a cough with how strong it was. All he could get was a hint of leather and a taste of that same spicy scent that greeted him as he stepped closer to the ship. “I...Yeah sure, I have some questions.” Killian’s smile widened as his eyebrow raised in interest.

“Great mate, come with me! We’ll get this all sorted and get ya shipshape,” And the two of them were off. The winds whistled louder. The Fates laughed harder. All the while as Dean started his descent below deck, a gust of wind shut the door behind him.

As Dean Winchester delved into the depths of the ship, he felt himself being entombed by wood, shadow and those otherworldly scents. The different squeaks of the steps and the general feeling of descent told him that he was going down. 

But every other sense was wholly distracted. All he could see was darkness and all he could smell were those mingling scents that loomed closer with every step down. It wasn’t until Dean’s eyes adjusted that he could see a soft glow emanating from a doorway deeper inside. 

It danced and it was only a moment later Dean realised it appeared to be some sort of torchlight as he smelled the faint scent of flame. One last step and Dean found himself on the same footing as Killian and soon into the hallway of the ship where the air felt twice as heavy. It was almost like he had to push himself to move as Dean stifled a cough and waved his hand in front of his face.

Ugh that smell...Dean scrunched his nose as he tried to focus on breathing through his mouth, but that only made him cough more as he got smoke into his lungs. Killian chuckled as Dean coughed a couple more times.

“Ye aint used to the smell are ya? Don’t worry lad, you’ll get used to it,” commented Killian as he sauntered on forward. Dean could still barely see as he cleared his eyes but other people were down here too, all men and all dressed like pirates. He glanced over towards them, to see if any of them matched the missing people’s description, but it was hard to focus as the ship’s swaying felt far worse below deck. 

At any rate, Dean was far too shocked at how none of these guys seemed to break character. All of them greeted him with thick piratelike accents and lingo, as if they weren’t just playing pirates, as if they were pirates. 

“I don’t plan on staying long,” replied Dean as he narrowed his eyes towards Killian. He couldn’t see what the pirate’s reaction was, but he could somehow tell that the captain was still smiling. After the fifth or sixth pirate greeted him, Dean was thankful when he saw Killian open a door at the end of the hall.

“This is me quarters here,” Killian announced as he swung the door open and a blast of heat and scents jetted out the room. Dean didn’t get seasick, but this was all making him nauseous and he quickly stepped in and let himself fall back into a chair at the end of the desk, a hand kneading his temple as he tried to focus. “So mate...What can I do ya for?” 

The door was closed and suddenly Killian was sitting at the other end of a long desk, adorned with maps and parchment, a dagger in the wood and loose gold coins strewn around. The office itself was slightly cramped, a collection of knick knacks that formed an odd fusion of living and working space. On one side of the quarters was bedding, an end table, and the next was an office, for a meeting of the minds, bookcases, plans on parchment, the scent of gold that had been won and gold to be found. 

But that wasn’t the only scent that lingered in the quarters of Captain Killian Jones. It only took a few moments for Dean to feel sweat start to form on his brow. He pulled at his shirt and tried to hope that he could ignore the stifling heat. That he could handle, but what was more difficult was that smell, as persistent as a predator, it didn’t seem to worm its way towards Dean. He had been following it the entire time, as he looked towards Killian Jones, taking a deep sniff and realising that the smell was twice as intense in here, in the captain’s living quarters. He reminded himself to try and only breathe through his mouth. 

“Okay so uh...Killian is it?” Dean blinked. For a man who had met archangels, the name still sounded ridiculous. Killian cocked an eyebrow.

“It can be whatever you want it to be mate,” the captain winked. Dean blinked again. “But for now, how about we stick with Captain, or if ya must, Captain Jones, seven seas I’ll even let ya have Captain Killian.” Dean rolled his eyes. Seriously? At this point, if it was just a guy playing a pirate then it’d be ten times worse, the idea of someone staying in-character for so long. The smell reminded Dean that there was no way he’d be able to sit in here for too long. 

“Sure...Captain Killian,” said Dean, addressing the name with the same seriousness as a child’s nickname. “Didn’t mean to just wander onto your...ship.” The ship croaked in response. “But I need help with this...investigation I’m doing.” 

For the first time Killian’s cocky demeanour vanished. His smile fell and the focus of his eyes seemed to be more threatening than amusing. 

“An investigation, ya say? What kind of investigation lad?” He reached over for one of the coins on the table, starting to fiddle with it as his other hand drummed against the table. Killian took a cursory glance to the porthole where he saw nothing but the endless dark oceans of sky and sea. 

“Just about a...crime I guess, someone said they saw a ship like yours nearby,” Dean paused to take a breath. Even breathing here felt slower with all the heat and (he took another sniff and frowned), musk. He frowned in disgust. “I’m not a lad by the way.” Killian’s amusement threatened to return. 

“Aye? That so mate? Well ye see anyone who don’t even have their sea legs here is a lad, lad,” replied Killian. He began to spin the coin on the table and slamming it down after a few spins. Spin, slam, spin, slam, spin...and slam. Dean’s eyes were drawn to it in annoyance. “But mate I dunno if I can help ya, I’d have to see what night it was, who was the lookout-” Dean reached into his jacket and fished out a folded piece of paper. He threw it towards Killian’s side of the desk. The ship swayed again and Dean gripped his chair much to Killian’s amusement. He didn’t even try to hide his smirk as he took the paper. 

“That’s the night the...crimes took place,” explained Dean. His jaw tensed as he studied Killian, still playing with that coin (spin, slam, spin, slam…), still clearly not caring about what the ship did or didn’t see. Or rather, what the crew did or didn’t do. “The crimes…” Dean blinked as the ship swayed again, he still wasn’t used to it and it made it even harder to focus as his stomach churned. He felt like his head was churning along with it, his next words lost to nausea. 

“Crimes, crimes, ya keep goin’ on about crimes...Can I ask what exactly happened mate?” questioned Killian. “Help me…”  Spin… “Help you lad.” Still spinning... Dean was growing more and more frustrated with that coin. It was like the longer Killian played with it, the more his eyes wandered over, just to glare at it, just to have to blink every time- SLAM. That happened. Dean inhaled and almost instantly regretted it as he resisted the urge to cough from all the musk around. Even hints of the scent, the salt and leather of it all was too much for him. 

“Men-” started Dean. Spin… 

“I tend to bed em,” interrupted Killian. SLAM. “What about em?” Spin…

“A lot of them have gone missing,” exclaimed Dean. “I just thought you might-” SLAM. God he hated that sound. “Might know anything-” Killian shrugged.

“I might mate, but I doubt it,” replied Killian. “Besides…” Spin… “Why’d I know anything about that sort of thing?”

“You’d know because your ship was nearby and could you stop playing with that damn coin?!” Dean snapped. The heat was unbearable. The smell was worse. The coin was the last straw. Killian stared back at Dean. “Look, either you know something or you don’t, but you should quit wasting my time.” 

“Aye mate? Is something…” Spin… Killian smiled darkly. “Bothering ya?” SLAM. Dean just glared back.

“Yeah actually it is, can you just stop for a second and take this seriously?” said Dean. Spin...Dean swore to God that the coin was growing louder. It was going to drive him crazy.

“Tell me about em,” Killian purred. His voice had grown lower as he continued to play with the coin. He let it spin just a moment longer before- SLAM. It was Dean’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Killian chuckled lowly. “Tell me about ya complaints lad.” Spin… 

“What?” Dean wanted to ask more, namely what kind of joke was this? But he saw Killian’s expression darken and knew that in some odd way the pirate was being serious. “Fine, I’ll tell you. The smell, the musk, the chair is sticky, your coin is annoying and you-” SLAM…

“Are one of the hottest men you’ve seen,” interrupted Killian. “Is that right?” Dean scoffed. 

“Yeah, you wish,” said Dean. Killian smirked. Spin…

“Then why are you hard mate?” Dean looked down and suddenly gasped. His eyes widened as he suddenly felt a presence in his pants, a presence he should’ve felt before. His dick was hard! But not just hard, but almost throbbing, that was until… “Or should I say...Throbbing lad.” SLAM!

Dean’s cock bounced for attention, suddenly throbbing as he panted and looked down at his member. He had never gotten so horny in his life, so hard, so desperate as his cock almost felt like a whole new limb, so solid as it bounced in his jeans. Sooner or later, he was going to get so hard it was going to start a tent against the worn denim.

Spin…

“F-Fuck! What? N-No…” Dean panted as he swallowed, his throat having suddenly felt dry. “This can’t be happening! What are you doing?!”

SLAM!

Dean grunted as his cock hardened even more and started to tent in his jeans. “No! No...Stop it!” Killian chuckled as he...

Spin…

“Oh too late to stop it mate, too late to stop…” SLAM! Dean bit back a groan. “Anything. It just…” Spin… “Feels so good to be…” SLAM! Dean couldn’t stop groaning then. “Controlled.” Spin… “To be…” SLAM! Dean moaned. “Mine lad...Cause that’s what you are...As you start to…” Spin… “Leak out all your thoughts.” Dean’s eyes widened as he felt himself fall back into the chair the more he tried to get up.

“No please dooooh-” SLAM! His cock throbbed again and began to sputter pre-cum, as Dean looked down, half-lidded and flushed.

“You were saying mate?” Killian teased. Spin… “Or were you too busy…” SLAM! Dean groaned out loud. “Leaking out your will out ya cock…” Spin… “And getting to obey Killian...Hook...Ya captain...As you…” SLAM! Dean moaned again. “Leak out for Captain Killian…” Spin… 

“N-No-” Dean grabbed his cock hard with both hands, so hard he knew he wouldn’t even find it in himself to stroke. It wasn’t painful but he put enough pressure on his cock to squeeze out some more pre-cum and slow down any more from flowing. Uncomfortable enough that there was no way he could throb more.

“Oh, a fighter are ya? Well what if I…” SLAM! Dean grunted but kept his grip tighter. But he suddenly began to smell something as he heard leather shift and then plop. “Help with that…'' 

Killian suddenly put both his sweaty feet on the table, having taken his leather boots off behind the desk. 

The musk hit Dean like a heatwave and his eyes stung from the sweaty salty musk. 

But worst of all his grip loosened. 

“No I-” Spin… “I can’t-” SLAM! “Give in…” Spin… “Can’t…” 

“Resist?” Killian finished as Slam! The stain in Dean’s pants grew. His mind felt far away. All he could hear was Killian. “Can’t…” Spin… “Resist obeying ya captain?” SLAM! Dean groaned and to his shock it sounded like a groan of pleasure and approval. “Can’t resist…” Spin… “Staring at me feet?”

SLAM! Dean groaned and this time it was a groan of approval as his body instinctively humped the air and his half lidded eyes focused on Killian’s feet. Everything and anything from the sweaty soles to the musky scent to the wriggling toes, wriggling back...

SLAM! And forth…

Spin… Back…

SLAM! And forth…

Dean couldn’t even hear himself moan at this point because he just did it so easily, it was like breathing, he wouldn’t know until someone pointed it out. And Killian never pointed it out beyond a hand at his leather clad crotch and his signature smirk. 

“Please…” Dean let out a weak moan, a whimper that sounded of pleading rather than resistance. He could barely think, barely understand what was happening. But he was still as strong as ever, and he knew he had to resist. He had to. He wanted to. He didn’t want to. He...Spin...Fuck….Not again anything but...

SLAM!

“Oghhh god-” He moaned and realise now his breaths were becoming pants, taking in more and more musk. The toes were still wriggling, still captivating, still so hot. 

“Now mate…” Spin… “When my foot touches your face, you’re gonna just…” SLAM! Moan. “Sink! Understand mate?” Killian sat on his desk, the foot now beginning to raise and reach closer and closer as Dean moaned and whimpered and tried his bet to back away. But the seat didn’t budge and neither did he.

All he could do was crane his neck back as the foot got closer and closer.

“N-No...Stop…” The foot was half a foot away. “Please...Fuck…” Getting closer now, still wriggling, still spiralling. “Can’t…” The musky foot was inches now. “Can’t…” So close. “Can’t…” So big. “No…” So good. “I-”

The foot pressed against Dean’s face and with it he was under, sinking deeper and deeper in both his mind and the chair as he was forced to breathe in Killian’s musky foot. He even licked his lips, his tongue tasting some of the sole as Killian let the foot slowly descend down, toes brushing against his lips. It just went down and down and down like Dean’s mind, as the foot caressed his chest, his abs and then reached down until it rested right up against Dean’s denim clad throbbing cock. Dean whimpered and shifted slightly, grinding his cock against the sweaty foot as Killian just chuckled at him.

“Well mate, seems ya found me secret. But now it’s time to get ya...Shipshape,” Killian smiled down at Dean as he let his foot nudge gently against Dean’s member. “Everytime I click me fingers, you are going to slowly turn into more and more of a pirate lad.” 

Dean’s brows furrowed, some part within him still fighting, still resisting. 

“You are going to forget this whole thing happened and think we had a normal meeting in me office. But everytime I click me fingers, you are going to obey, going to become more and more of a pirate as part of me crew. You are going to forget your old life, ya old friends, that don’t matter now. What matters is ya crew and most importantly…” 

Killian let his foot play with the wet slick head of Dean’s cock through his jeans. 

“Ya captain.” Dean moaned lightly in agreement and let out a small nod. “Now how about I let ya…” He moved the foot up to Dean’s lips. “Have some fun…” He slipped the toes between Dean’s lips, smiling wider when Dean let out a muffled groan and took the toes in deeper. 

“Before long it’ll be time to…”

Wake. 

Dean shot up with a start, unfortunately taking long breaths as he tasted something salty on his tongue. He looked down at himself, seeing he was fine and then around at the room. The ship was still swaying and Captain Killian Jones was sat on the other end of his desk, feet up as he inspected one of his rings. He looked up, piercing blue eyes meeting Dean’s as he gave a weak smile.

“Good mornin’ mate,” Killian said jokingly as he saw Dean look around confused as the ship swayed again. 

“The hell? What happened?” questioned Dean as his eyes locked onto Killian. For some reason that sickening sensation, that churning of the stomach, seemed slightly duller now. Killian gave no answers, only a smirk. Dean broke his gaze with Killian as he looked around. 

Everything about this place seemed the same, the same disgusting odd scent, the same rickety aged interior, and the obnoxious charming captain at the helm of it all. Even behind a desk, it seemed as if he was in charge of the room, the conversation, perhaps even of Dean. From the way Killian Jones glanced at him, with a raised eyebrow and stupid stunning smile, Dean wagered the man knew it too.

“Nothin’ mate, we were just talking and you fell asleep is all, musta been real tired.” There was almost a mocking tone to Killian’s words, as his words wavered slightly like the surface of the sea. It was an odd way of talking, hell, the accent alone was an odd way of talking. But it did make Dean feel the need to listen. “So what were ya sayin’?” 

What was Dean saying? He sighed and sat up in his seat, hearing his back click as he stretched out. He glanced down to his notebook, looking over some usual notes and some he barely remembered making, before a last stroke of the pen that slips off the page. 

“Well mate?” 

“Yeah I’m getting there,” exclaimed Dean as he looked up annoyedly at Killian. It frustrated him more how all the man could do was smile and take glee at the situation, as if he was incapable of taking anything seriously. Anything that wasn’t playing pirate anyway.

“Alright, alright mate just chop chop,” Snap. Snap. Killian snapped his fingers twice and with each snap, the sound echoed in Dean’s mind and for a moment he looked through Killian. He blinked as he felt something shift in him too. His feet suddenly felt colder as the socks around them were gone. The arches clicked and the toes sprawled forward as Dean’s already sizable feet grew a size larger. His once roomy brown leather boots now suddenly felt tight and cramped on his feet, causing him to groan lightly in pain as he peered down at his feet. But that was something he’d come to soon regret, as he smelled something musky emanating from beneath him. He wasn’t sure if it was somehow his feet, but as they continued to fill the shoes, they began to feel warm and sweaty. “Something the matter, mate?” 

Dean looked back up.

“Uh no so uh…” He began to flick again through the notepad. “You’ve told me...Most everything but, like I was saying, has there been anything...Weird to you? Anything you’ve seen that’s just...Unnatural?” Dean narrows his eyes, watching Killian as they look away, seeming like they were suddenly deep in thought. There was nothing about this man that Dean could take seriously, the sooner he could get out of here, the better. 

“Hmm, well there was something lad,” spoke Killian as he turned to look back at Dean. “Something...Bloody hell, I can’t remember uh…” Dean leaned forward with anticipation. 

“What was it?” Dean questioned. “Look, anything, even the slightest thing can help.” Killian drummed his fingers on the desk, looking upward as he was trying to remember. 

“Seven seas mate, it was on the tip of me tongue, it was…” Snap. Snap. Killian clicked his fingers twice as he tried to remember. Dean shifted in the seat as he suddenly felt his feet become less cramped. The shoes themselves changed, the leather beginning to ride up his ankles as it darkened all over. The shoes themselves turning into dark tall leather boots that were more than sizable enough to contain Dean’s larger musky feet. But the boots themselves stunk of it, making the scent even worse. Dean was about to look down before- “Oh! I remember mate!” Dean quickly looked up at Killian.

“Yeah? What?” Dean quickly asked, almost forgetting about checking out what was going on with his footwear and his feet. He tried his best to ignore that pungent musk filling the air but it was starting to get too much and he could already start to feel slightly light headed. But only slightly, as if he was getting used to the scent. 

“One of me crewmates uh…” Snap. Dean grunted as his ass cheeks began to protrude. They grew rounder and softer, making him feel cushioned in the chair. He shifted in the seat, feeling like it had suddenly grown tighter on him as he swore he was an inch or two taller in the chair now. He glanced back to check why he felt so odd. “Derek I think it was, he saw something real strange mate and he...Mate? Hello?” Snap. Dean instantly looked back to Killian and let out a gasp as they felt their cock grow hard, suddenly throbbing as it made itself known as a bulge formed at Dean’s crotch. 

“Huh? Wha-” Dean bit back a groan, biting his lip as he glanced down concernedly at his cock. Why was he getting so hard now? What the hell was going on with him? He could feel sweat beginning to form at his brow and only realised now that he hadn’t even been taking notes since he started asking Killian questions again. “Sorry, what?” 

“You alright mate? You seem a little, I don’t know…” Snap. Dean gasped as his cock throbbed and he swore it seemed to grow an inch. At the very least this was the biggest boner he’d ever had. “Distracted mate.” 

“Yeah, yeah look I think I gotta go I really-” Dean said as he was about to stand up.

“Oh no stay mate,” Killian purred. Dean shook his head, still halfway in his seat.

“No, I’ve really-” Snap. “Oh!” Dean fell back in the seat, moaning as he looked down to see his cock throb again, only this time he could see that it was starting to leak. His navy blue jeans were beginning to appear stained only...Wait, that wasn’t pre-cum, or at least it wasn’t just pre-cum. 

It was something else, something darker...something shinier… 

“Wha...What...What the fuck?!” Dean glanced down in shock and horror as he went to tug at his jeans, but they wouldn’t budge. His belt was nowhere to be seen and the button had all but disappeared. Killian sat back and watched the show unfold as he saw Dean desperately try to wriggle his way out of the jeans. But they wouldn’t budge, mainly because they weren’t jeans anymore. They were quickly darkening into tight black shiny leather pants, matching his boots and growing tighter. “No, no what the fuck is this?! What’s happening?!” 

Dean’s breaths became pants, as his hand continued to try and pull at the tight leather, to drag it off of himself. But everything around him seemed so distracting. From the musk that permeated from his boots, to the ship that he swore swayed just when he almost got a good grip on the pants, to Captain Killian, sitting there and staring eagerly. But the worst came with his dick, his thick and sensitive length of arousal that he could feel was smeared by pre-cum that had no choice but to flow over and down his cock. 

His breaths became gasps that became pants that became light groans of arousal, much of them snuffed out by this constant resistance that tried to stop his voice. Dean managed to hook a finger into the pants when...Snap.

“What’s wrong mate?” Killian smirked as he saw Dean look up with a shock and then look down at his pants. As if his legs were made of jelly, he could see them wobbling slightly, and feel them grow warm with the heat of change as he started to feel them stretch.

“No, no, no! What the…” Dean gasped and then groaned as he felt the first changes, his thighs growing just slightly wider, causing the leather to groan as it stretched out. “What the bloody hell have you-” 

Dean covered his mouth, partly to stop the groaning but partly because...something sounded different. And he saw that Killian heard it too. The man raised an eyebrow and gave a smile that was of a welcome surprise before Dean moved his hand, trying to grab one of his legs, to see if his strong hands could stop the growth.

But his thighs widened with muscle, as if he was on his legs all day, every day. Dean knew his brother told him about the benefits of cardio, but he thought hunting was all the exercise he needed. Now his legs looked like he went running every other day. 

“What’s wrong mate?” Killian chuckled. “Go ahead lad, speak.”

Snap.

Dean groaned and writhed in his chair as he looked down to see his own leather jacket was now starting to disappear. He knew the only one with a leather long coat was Killian...Captain Killian.

No, fuck! Not a damn captain! Dean thought to himself as he looked down, more preoccupied with what was happening to his shirt. His own shirt began to transform into some thin undershirt of cheap fabric, slowly lightening to a pale, almost ivory colour. 

The sleeves grew slightly wider and were peppered with strings that crossed over. It looked to be one of those shirts some knight would wear on a medieval historical show. But a moment later Dean realised it was one of those undershirts from older times, only this one wasn’t a prop.

This one was real.

The neck hole was slightly larger and the opening of the shirt exposed some of his chest. Dean continued to grunt and groan, refusing to let these moans of pleasure escape easily. But most of all he didn’t dare speak, in fear he’d-

Snap. 

“I said speak!”

“Fuck, I don’t…” Dean grunted as his lips moved all on their own. He tried to urge his hand to cover his mouth but he suddenly didn’t want to disobey Captain Killian. He couldn’t. Snap. “Fuck please man don’t-” Snap “Fuck m-m- mate!” Dean gasped as he could feel more and more of his southern American accent was fading, as more and more of his clothes did. The pen in hand turned into a quill. The notepad became sheets of parchment that fell to the floor. Everything about and around Dean was changing, growing perfect to be on a ship like this, to be…

Oh god, not that, Dean thought.

“Sounding a bit...Different lad?” Snap.

Dean watched as his chest began to itch. He groaned out loud as his pecs grew even larger, becoming two sizable pouches of muscle that jiggled as he writhed and gyrated his hips in the chair. His own cock was practically leaking out a fountain of pre-cum, so much so that some arrived in spurts with each-

Snap. 

“F-Fuck mate, my- me voice...What the hell did you do to me...my fuckin’ voice!” Dean yelled as he looked down. He wanted to get up, but it was like his body was incapable, as if he was trapped in this very room, right where the captain was.

Fuck, he wish he could stop calling Captain Killian, captain.

But he couldn’t.

“Sounds like yer wantin’ to join our crew mate.” Snap. Killian chuckled darkly as he watched Dean struggle, looking down to see chest hair beginning to sprout out across his enlarged pecs. Dark blonde hairs that spread across his upper chest and down beneath his undershirt, tickling him as they grew and radiating more musk. “Come on mate…”

Snap.

“No please I’m not...Not some bloody- Oh fuck gotta...Gotta make this stop mate,” cried Dean as his arms began to balloon out with muscle. They widened, growing a couple inches thicker as all his tattoos along his chest disappeared, as if the chest hair itself rubbed it away. Dean could feel the changes racing up to his neck now, as his previously shaved jawline was beginning to grow hairy again. “I- I just fuckin’ shaved, ya can’t...Fuck me fuckin’ voice, please make it...Make it stop!” Dean’s voice wrestled between his grizzled deep southern voice and a more smooth and seductive British accent. 

Words and knowledge of piracy, life on the sea, the different parts of a ship slowly started to make themselves apparent. They first appeared in Dean’s dialect, and then like ink on parchment, sank further into the material, drying there and making its place more permanent in his mind. Soon, the word starboard wasn’t just something he kept thinking about in his mind, but it was something he knew the meaning of, something his voice itched to use.

“Oh come on lad, just give in…” said Killian.

Snap. 

“No please don’t fuckin’ do anythin’ you bloody-” Snap. Dean throbbed and writhed in the chair, cock throbbing as not much changed about his angelic face besides the beard that made him seem more grizzled. His body was done. It was his mind that was now the plaything.

“Just let go…” continued Killian. 

“I’m not lettin’ go of anything you fuckin’-” Snap. Dean moaned and fell back in the chair, he was losing the battle of resistance. His cock felt so good, everything felt so good.

“Join me crew…” purred Captain Killian.

“No stop before...Me voice, no me fuckin’ voice what the bleedin’ hell have ya-”  Snap. 

“Ohhhhhh-” Dean moaned.

“And obey ya Captain…” declared Captain Killian.

“No...Please...Fuck I ain’t a bloody pirate, you can’t-” Dean saw Killian raise his fingers slowly. “Fuck mate! No! Don’t do it! Don’t make me some fuckin’ pirate! No! Don’t-” Snap.

“Come for ya captain,” commanded Captain Killian. And how could Dean disobey? The last of his mind slipped off that cliff of resistance and basked in a freefall towards lust, debauchery, chaos, a crew, a Captain. 

His cock throbbed and then, the dam fell, with one last pump, he felt his cock shoot out jets of hot seed into his leather pants. He grabbed his cock, trying to stop it, but all it did was make it worse as he felt his leather clad member practically vibrate with how hard and fast it throbbed, almost fucking his hand as he came again, and again, and again. Dean’s eyes rolled into the back of his mind and fittingly saw nothing but darkness back there, as if he was staring directly at his brain to see it just cloaked by the shadows of musk and lust and obedience for Captain Killian. 

Dean Winchester was no longer the Kansas born supernatural hunter. He was now Deacon of Winchester, one of the most handsomest pirates of the seven seas, a traveller and like much of the other crew, occasional lover to the one and only Captain Killian Jones. 

After he came out of his senses, he came back to them as he woke up with a start in the captain’s quarters, his captain’s quarters. 

“Bloody hell mate, what happened?” Dean Winchester, or as he was now known, Deacon of Winchester looked around. Captain Killian just smiled down at him.

“Looks like ya hit yer head mate, ya feelin’ shipshape?” Killian looked down at him with a smile and a look of expectancy. Dean Deacon didn’t know what he was doing in the captain’s quarters but he just smirked towards the captain.

“Right as rain mate,” shot back Deacon much to Captain Killian’s satisfaction. 

“Well then, get back to it mate. That’s an order,” Captain Killian winked at Deacon, causing their smirk to widen. They stood up and gave a nod.

“As ya wish, Captain Killian,” replied Deacon and with that, he left the quarters feeling like a new man. He took in the deep scent of the sweat, musk and rum, the manly scent of a hardworking crew. All before he got back onto the deck of the ship, the sea around them and the salt in the air. Nothing felt better than being here, to be sailing on the open seas with his crew, his rum and his captain. It sure felt good to be a pirate. 

This story was originally posted on my Patreon, but I've decided to release it for FREE. Click here to check out more stories like this on my Patreon and feel free to message me if you want to find out more or if you just enjoyed this story!

[arimiaromage]

thoughts about dgm chapter 251

gonna throw my thoughts about these new revelations here.

bookman jr or past!allen?

she got us good! I was in shock when I first read it (all my headcanons about pasta, out the window! thrown! chunked!) but now I'm more fine with it.

I believe what happened was that hoshino drew the bookman jr in those flashbacks with nea on purpose - she wanted us to think that was allen and bookman jr. the flashbacks aren't past!allen with longer hair, this is definitely the bookman jr, as we can tell now.

it also makes more sense now why "allen" was talking about high concepts like the spiral being the force for life - it really was a bookman!

I fully think she did this switcharoo on purpose. if we look at her most recent livestream (translated by ponkotsubluuues), someone comments that they were shocked past!allen and bookman jr weren't the same person. her response is basically "yes, I know". she's not surprised people would think that, this was probably deliberately on purpose.

bookman jr & past!allen

okay, now on to some thoughts on who they actually are. I won't stick long here as we'll probably find out in just a few months and we don't have much to go on right now.

personally, I don't really care to ever meet allen's blood relatives. it's never interested me who he's "actually" related to and I always felt it would add even more complicated feelings for him and even more complexity to an already messy as hell family & relationship tree.

that being said, I wouldn't be surprised if bookman jr and allen are some kind of family unit, be it blood related or not. when they begin talking about the two of them as separate people, lucia refers to them as "two young men". so they're probably not father and son, but I could see them as brothers or some sort of brotherhood if they're not blood related.

maybe past!allen is a traveling clown who toured the world with bookman jr LOL.....?

either way, bookman jr was so compelled to protect allen & nea that he gave his life for them. I'm so, so eager to see their bond.

cross marian

who the hell is cross marian in all of this?

we know the cross has been around since almost adam's time, having been with mana and nea since they were children-

so we know that regardless of who is he, he's known about and visited the campbell manor for decades.

in this chapter, they even bring him up by name.

not only does allen ask about him, but lucia talks a bit about him as well.

and note that they're not saying something like "my master left a message for me" and lucia just goes along with it- allen says "my master cross" and lucia continues by saying his full name. she knows exactly who he's talking about.

(allen specifically says "cross shishou" = "master cross" but lucia called him "cross marian")

to me, this is one of the main reasons I don't believe cross is bookman jr. I believe he's somehow tied to the bookman, but I don't think he's the missing jr. if he was, why does lucia refer to him as cross here but not later? she clearly knows who allen is referring to, so wouldn't the bookman have searched for cross and found him with relative ease, given he was at the order for quite a while with bookman & lavi up until apocryphos attacked him?

lucia and the master only refer to bookman jr as "junior", not cross marian. if you're desperately looking for cross marian and are fully aware allen knows who that is, then why not call him that? what do you have to lose at this point?

and furthermore, if cross was this bookman jr, how did he forget who HE made the host? how did he lose allen? redarm!allen looks a lot more like this new past!allen and they both have redish brown hair - if you were traveling with this guy, you should be able to recognize him even if he's de-aged like 8 years, ESPECIALLY once mana takes him in and his hair becomes styled the exact same way.

I know we always have the deus ex machina of apocryphos' memory changing but I really don't want that to be the case for every character, the more you do it the more it becomes a contrivance.

cross definitely has SOME connection to the bookman, I don't feel like his mask and knowledge of bookman things is entirely a red herring. lucia makes it sound like cross reached out to them regarding the campbell manor, but I'll get to that in a bit.

the other leading theory is that cross is cyrus campbell, katerina's brother and head of the family. I feel like this holds a bit more water than him being a bookman, as it'd explain why he was the campbell manor when mana and nea were so young (and presumably before nea became a noah) and why he has worked so tirelessly for both of them.

remember, his innocence maria greatly resembles katerina. it's possible this is katerina's corpse, being infested by innocence. maybe this is from innocence cross was carrying finding its way to her corpse or maybe it was a failed attempt to save her, we don't really know yet.

(I'm not fully convinced about the cyrus theory either though, as why does nea refer to cross as cross instead of cyrus or uncle? how would the order not know about his family and how obviously tied to the noah he is? how could he not recognize allen, his nephew's most trusted friend?)

there have been some theories that maybe the campbells are a bookman family, which may be the case and would help explain why cross has a connection to both, but the way lucia words this part makes me think otherwise.

she makes it sound like the campbell manor wasn't always under their jurisdiction, that it came to be that way but wasn't always. but that might be pulling at straws. I just don't think she'd word it this way if cross = bookman jr.

I'm not fully convinced about either theory about cross as I see holes in both of them. just have to wait and see~

personally I'd still like it if cross was just a childhood friend who got way too attached but we'll see 😂 or maybe he was just pining for katerina from afar....

crown clown

I feel pretty confident now that this is past!allen being hugged by bookman jr, possibly for the last time / as bookman jr's way to protect him.

but I also can't help but feel.... it reminds me of crowned clown, you know? the way it wraps around allen, covering him in an attempt to protect him. even the cut off tips. it really reminds me of that.

the bookman are no stranger to innocence. we also don't know when allen acquired his innocence- did past!allen have it? or...... did bookman jr give it to him as he was dying? did he think it would protect him and nea (and why would he give a noah innocence)?

I would not be surprised if there was some connection between bookman jr and allen's innocence.

allen

I absolutely loved this part.

the pure conviction in his face. no regrets. he finally has a chance to clear up his mind, to cast away the fear he's dealt with for so long about who he actually is. so, so good.

but........ WHO IS ALLEN WALKER????? the burning question. who knows at this point.

I'm very excited to see the next parts, even if it apparently isn't the 35 year flashback (her own words, from the aforementioned livestream) - I assume it'll be a flashback to past!allen meeting nea possibly, or them finding out nea isn't a typical noah, or some major event that happened before shit went down.

yeah that's about it, see yall next time ✌️

[elliespeach]

play nice | ellie williams

˗ˏˋ"i'm not incompetent, despite what you may think." ´ˎ˗

pairing: ellie x afab reader synopsis: ellie and you hated one another more than anything and you had successfully avoided each other for nearly two years before being forced to patrol together. the day you two endured happened to be a lot more than just patrol and despite hating your guts, ellie is determined to keep you safe. warnings: lowkey mean!ellie, scary men, ellie n reader defend themselves w guns (animal death), lots of swearing, being chased, being stranded in remote location wordcount: 6k+ author note: guysssss i love the fuck out of this trope i hope i did it justice, got a bit carried away w the wordcount but i like it that way cus i dont think this will be a series!

the early morning of the jackson crowd woke you yet again, groggy and hungover you squirmed out of bed. you were supposed to be off today, taking the day to rest and recover from last night but maria had other plans for you. she had asked if you could pick up a patrol shift, a route no one likes taking, for a guy no one really likes anyway. you said yeah because you owe maria a favor, hating yourself for allowing your one day off to be tarnished. 

grumpy, you threw on your usual patrol outfit. a heavy jacket, a sweater underneath, jeans and a trusty pair of boots. the clock read only thirty minutes before you were to be posted and figured you would stop on the way to grab breakfast. 

you gave sleepy hellos to your neighbors as you passed. a lot of them shoveling their sidewalks from the snow that blanketed the earth the night before, they would be doing it all day and suddenly you were that upset about patrol duty. it beats shoveling snow. 

entering the restaurant the smell of bacon and eggs filled your nose, making your stomach lurch in your body. the hangover really settling in, you almost opted to not get food. but you saw maria at the end of the counter, leaning over and chatting with the line cook. 

“mornin’ maria,” you plastered on the best smile you could muster at the moment. “who am i with today? i didn’t check the schedule.” 

maria’s face faltered, “so that’s why you said yes,” you looked at her confused. “you can’t back out on me now.” 

“maria, what’re you talking about?” you questioned, but with the expression on her face, you came to a realization that your day was about to get a whole lot worse. “i’m not going if she is.” 

she sighed your name, “you girls were friendly once, you can’t play nice for one day?” 

“ellie can’t play nice.” you stated as a fact. and it was. 

ellie and you had a complicated history, arriving in jackson only a few days after she did, you two had become an inseparable pair. what wasn’t obvious to everyone else at the time was that you both had feelings for one another despite being young teenagers. 

one day, in her garage, ellie and you had been listening to music together while she drew in her sketchbook. you had been watching her the whole time, admiring how talented she was. at this point in time, you knew she liked you as much as you did her–or at least you thought you did. when you tried to kiss her that day, she freaked out on you and pushed you off her bed in a hurry. 

you had felt betrayed by the only person in jackson you truly trusted with anything. you never spoke of it again, in fact you never really spoke to her again about anything. you two became distant, avoiding each other at all costs because when you were in close proximity you’d fight like cats and dogs. you couldn’t hold in your snide remarks and neither could she, but when she spoke her mind it was always more cruel than you could ever imagine. 

you hated ellie williams and now you are expected to be on a full-day patrol with her. you couldn’t even begin to imagine the kind of day you were about to have, regretting any and all decisions that led to this moment. 

“so you play nice. i won’t ask you to work with her again after today, promise.” maria begged and you rolled your eyes accepting her offer. 

you said your goodbyes and maria handed you two sandwiches to go, hoping that a sandwich will fix the multiple years of hatred burning inside of ellie for you. knowing it wouldn’t work but not wanting to waste food, you obliged by taking the food and going on your way. 

your walk was slow to the stables, wanting to prolong the long day ahead of you. when you reached your destination you saw ellie at the end of the barn. she was patting her horse, shimmer, and readying her for the trip. “fuck,” you whispered to yourself before making your way over. 

as you approached her, ellie went stiff and turned her back. not you.

“maria got us these sandwiches,” you said plainly, holding out one of them to her. her eyes were dull, along with her expression and it made your blood boil. “well?” you asked, already impatient with her. 

“ate already.” ellie responded quickly before grabbing the reins on shimmer and leading her out of the barn.

you silently mouthed, “wow.” to yourself before packing the food in your backpack for later. taking your horse from his pen, you lead him in the same direction as ellie. you came upon the gate and mounted your horse before pulling beside ellie, stealing a quick look at her. 

ellie darted her eyes away from you quickly as she saw your head turn towards her, feeling a hatred burning in her chest and she thought she saw you roll your eyes in her peripheral vision. you’d never admit this, barely admitting it to yourself, but despite all the loathing you felt for her you still found yourself attracted to her all these years later. it sucks that she is a bitch, otherwise maybe you two would have been something. 

the usual spiel of being safe, record keeping and more was being announced but ellie’s voice carried its way over to you. “do you even know where we’re going?” 

you scoffed, “i’m not incompetent, despite what you may think.” 

she turned her head towards you, a fake smile splayed across her face. “i don’t think, i know.” 

“oh, fuck you, williams.” you spat at her, looking back towards the gate, not wanting to remember she’s right next to you. 

but she was, in all her rudeness. “don’t you wish,” she said casually in a mocking tone. you had to stop your mouth from dropping open at her comment. she knew exactly what she was saying to you, and it just confirmed that there is no fixing this relationship if she could make a comment that low. 

the alarms went off and the horses started to ride out of jackson. you followed suit, leading your horse out of the gate and turning right down the snow covered path. ellie followed behind you at a distance and you liked it that way. 

ellie was watching you from behind, steering your horse through the pathway. for some reason, she couldn’t pull her eyes off of you the entire trip to the first look-out. her mind plagued her with thoughts of you and she dared not to trespass into that territory again. coming up on the familiar look-out, she pushed the thoughts away and replaced them with the hurtful things you’ve said to her over the years which did little to comfort her either. 

“just wait, i’ll mark the book.” you said, dismounting your horse and heading into the small building. you had always figured it was a radio tower as a giant broken satellite was perched on the roof, slamming open the garage door you made your way inside. 

“i’ll come with, don’t need you fuckin’ up the book.” ellie remarked behind you and you rolled your eyes as she passed you, just having to be the first one to the log book and she was. she beat you to the pen and began writing that there was no infected in the area. 

as ellie finished writing, she searched around the room for you. you were standing by the window, eyes peeking into the binoculars overlooking the route you two were going to be taking. 

“lemme look,” she insisted, reaching up to snatch them from your hand. you pulled it away quickly, swatting her hand. 

“i’m fucking capable of looking through these things.” you nearly yelled. 

“you’re not even wearing your glasses, give it to me.” she growled beside you, again reaching for the binoculars as you held them away from her. 

“how kind of you to notice,” you said sarcastically, gently pushing her away from you. 

“you look better with them on, princess.” she hissed using the nickname she had given you years ago. it felt strange to hear it again, especially in such a negative way. ellie eventually gives up on taking the binoculars from you. you started to peer through them again, making out your path as she huffed beside you. she was acting bored, fake kicking the debris that littered the floor, leaning her back against the window staring into the room behind you. 

looking away from the view for a split second, catching her eyes you retorted, “you look better without them on, figured i’d at least try and have a good day.” a devilish smile washed over your face and ellie didn’t respond. you brought the binoculars back up to your eyes and they widened with fright. 

from your viewpoint you were able to see multiple men all on horseback and guns at their side, they weren’t jackson men as you would have recognized them immediately. they had blood stained clothes and looked like they haven’t showered in weeks. but the most disturbing thing you saw was a person, naked and shaking in the cold tied by their neck to one of the horses, being pulled along. this wasn’t a group to be stumbled upon by and they were right smack in the middle of your route about two miles from you both, getting closer to jackson with every step. “oh, fuck me..” you trailed off and ellie chuckled beside you. 

“like i said, you wis–” 

“ellie, look!” you hissed, shoving the binoculars in her hand but she wouldn’t take them. 

“no, apparently i can’t handle it or something!” she shoved them back in your hands. 

“ellie, would you just look while i radio the other patrols?” you basically begged and ellie heard the fear in your voice. knowing you would never let her see you this way, she sat up straight taking the binoculars from you. she watched as you ran to the table with the log book, getting your radio ready. 

she peered through them and saw what you did and ellie’s demeanor changed swiftly. she turned back to look at you, panicking because the radio wasn’t transmitting. “fuck, this stupid thing!” you yelled, banging it against your hands so hard you thought you might leave a bruise. 

ellie acted fast, throwing the log book into a damaged closet to leave no trace and picking up her backpack. “if we can’t get a signal here, we gotta move to where we can get one. the closest patrol is ten miles in the other direction, we can beat them there, they aren’t going fast.” 

she glanced at you, ready to move and you were frozen still trying to get the radio to work. she rounded on you and stopped yourself from breaking your own hand with the radio. “we have to move, okay? they won’t touch you, i promise.” 

her promise seemed sincere and in the moment you didn’t question it. you nodded your head and took a deep breath before she handed you her bag. you both sprinted to your horses, but not before ellie closed the garage with a loud thud. getting on horseback, ellie led the way, weaving in and out of trees staying off the path so as to not cause suspicion with the tracks in the snow. 

you followed suit, not letting her gain more than a few yards on you at a time. after about ten minutes of what seemed like endless trees you came upon an opening to a road. you didn’t recognize it, and as you came up beside ellie it looked like she didn’t either. you looked around desperately, fearing the men you had seen and what would happen to you both if they found you. 

“nothing on the radio?” she asked you, pulling her horse near you. 

“no, nothing.” you stated shakily, fiddling with the small radio. 

“shit,” she cursed aloud, but not loud enough for anyone else but you to hear. “c’mon, this way.” she led you down the road and as you came over a small hill a building came into the picture, a large building that looked like an old grocery store. 

as you were about to pull the radio from your back pocket, ellie and you both snapped your necks in the direction you had just come from. there was the distant sound of hooves, even in the snow and laughing that wasn’t the good kind. “they found our trail, in the building, now!” she snapped at you quietly and not seeing any other idea, you followed her. leading your horses into an empty window in the building and securing them in a locked office. 

the building was ransacked, absolutely nothing in sight but garbage and dead infected bodies. “if there is dead infected, this area must get patrolled,” ellie thought out loud, looking at the mangled bodies. 

“or they found it before we did,” you did the same, stepping over a dead infected woman. horses neighing outside brought you to a halt and ellie didn’t think twice about grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of view. shuffling past large empty boxes and even more dead infected there was a door labeled exit and ellie busted it open, shoving you inside before her. as she closed the door behind her, she heard glass breaking and men’s voices. 

you looked around in the small hallway, it was dark but you were able to see a small dim light peeking through a knocked over bookcase at the end. “ellie,” you whispered, pointing to the bookcase. quietly moving towards it, you started to lift up the bookcase revealing a large storage room with loading docks. placing the bookcase back down to block the entrance as quiet as you could. 

she nodded her head towards the loading doors, they were closed but not locked. you were about to lift them up for an escape when the exit door burst open and all that stood in between them and you two was the bookcase. you snapped your head in that direction and ellie grasped your arm, pulling you behind a large shipping crate. 

in good timing because as soon as you were secure the bookcase fell over with a loud bang that made you jump. you looked to ellie, who was trying to peek around the crate to catch a look. ellie saw three men stumble into the large room, guns and various other weapons on their belts. “come on out now!” one bellowed, causing you to grab ellie’s arm instinctively and she let you, not pulling it away in the slightest. 

ellie saw them looking around corners when one approached the loading doors, seeing it unlocked. “must’ve slipped out,” the brute snarled, fiddling with the door handle.”grab their horses, let’s go get their trail!” they triumphed, slowly leaving through the door they came in. the rest of their crew must be waiting out front, ellie knew this was your only chance. 

once the cost was clear ellie turned to you, “they’ll expect us to go through the back, let’s go back the way we came.” she whispered, taking her arm back. you nodded and followed her, she quickly moved past the bookcase and towards the door they had left wide open. seeing no one, and not hearing your horses she waved you on, exiting the grocery store through the broken window in which you had entered. 

coming back into the daylight their horse tracks went to the back of the building and you both took this opportunity to run into the trees on the opposite side of the deserted road. as you jumped into the snowy landscape, a horse neighed furiously. “hey! i see ‘em!” a grunty voice shouted and you and ellie took off running through the woods. you were following ellie, who was hoping this was the correct way back. but back where? where could she take you on foot they wouldn’t be able to catch up? the nearest patrol is miles out, but when you two didn’t show up for check in they would come looking. that could be hours before they find you, stumbling through the cold woods and ellie worried that you two wouldn’t make it through the night if you could get away from these guys. 

she pushed all of that away, focusing on the task at hand which was to get you away from them. you ran for a while, the woods came to life with sound, the horses behind you trying to bob and weave through the harsh trees, the heavy breathing of you and ellie crashing into the soft snow below you and the sinister sound of the men laughing as they narrowed down on you two. 

“keep running!” ellie shouted back to you as you passed her, she stopped reaching for her rifle and cocking it back. you didn’t listen, instead taking your pistol out at the same time. ellie was able to shoot down one of the men who had tried to flank them, his body tumbling down to the ground and his blood desecrating the pure white snow. 

focusing your vision as ellie reloaded her gun, you shot quickly. the bullet grazing one of the brutes in the cheek and he clutched his cheek as he barreled down on ellie–whose gun was jammed. you shot again, this time aiming for the horse’s legs and it went down before you could blink, hurdling the giant into a tree. he laid on the ground motionless as his buddies grew more angry, you grabbed ellie’s arm and she looked up to you with panicked eyes, slinging her forward in front of you she began running but not before checking that you were right behind her. 

hoping that the bodies of their friends would slow them down, you both sprinted away from the grizzly scene. ellie was in front of you, the tussle with them discombobulated her and she wasn’t sure what direction she was going in. everything was happening too fast for her to be able to stop and figure it out, and as she looked back to check on you and the proximity of her attackers she saw your eyes widen and as you screamed her name, she fell down an embankment. 

you didn’t think twice, knowing this would be a good barrier between you and your pursuers. ellie was already halfway down as you threw yourself down the steep hill, the trees spun around you and you couldn’t see anything. you could make out ellie as you tumbled, rolling uncontrollably and it seemed even faster than you were. it felt like years before you came to a stop at the bottom of the hill.

you groaned, lifting your head up and not seeing anyone following you. you put all your effort into sitting up and you clutched your side as you did. you cursed, your bag was missing, probably buried in snow somewhere and as you looked around you saw ellie. she was laying next to a tree, limp and moaning in pain. in a panic you tried to stand up but the pain in your side prevented you from moving even two steps so you crawled to her. “ellie!” you shouted, coming to her side. “ellie, are you okay?” you yelled again, shaking her lightly. looking back up the embankment, you didn’t see the men anymore and hoped they went to clean up their friends. 

as your eyes came back to ellie, she rolled over and in between big breaths she was able to get out, “hit.. the fuckin…tree.” she groaned, grasping at her limp arm. “fuck..my arm!” 

“c’mon, williams we gotta go,” you stated, looking around for her backpack since yours was nowhere in sight. you noticed it a few feet away and you used the tree to force yourself up, ellie saw you struggling and tried to get up on her own so you wouldn’t have to help her in your condition. taking her pack and slinging it on your shoulders you went back to her, she was leaning against the tree now, facing the embankment. 

you reached out your hand to her and you couldn’t read her face as she took it with her good arm, pulling herself up with a huff. your side screamed in pain as you trudged on, taking in short breaths even though you could barely breathe to begin with. ellie limped behind you, her limp arm at her side and every step she winced in pain. fully realizing you two were lost in the woods, you kept going in hopes of seeing jackson at some point. 

the men didn’t make any appearances and the further you walked the more you felt safe. the fresh snowfall that started was covering your tracks in the deep snow. walking in silence felt like the right thing to do, the adrenaline wearing off would mean bickering again and you liked the quiet sounds of the forest, and the occasional grunt from ellie behind you. the sun was nearly behind the mountains before ellie spotted a small hunting cabin to the left of your makeshift path. 

it was dainty, and probably only one room but as you both approached it, it was looking more and more inviting than the harshness of the cold you two had been enduring the last couple of hours. knocking on the door roughly and not hearing anything inside, you opened the wooden front door. it was small. the abandoned shelter was illuminated by the setting sun through the windows, you saw a fireplace that had more spider-webs than you’d ever seen. the “kitchen” immediately next to it consisted of a broken and ransacked fridge, a sink and only two cabinets. 

you smacked ellie’s pack down on the counter, and finally felt a smidge of peace. looking up and noticing there was no living room area in the single room, just a creaky wooden bed that ellie had sat down on still clutching her arm. you looked around and saw a wooden chair, smashed to pieces you shuffled over, taking as many as you could carry before tossing them into the empty fireplace. ellie watched as you did, wishing she could be more help but her arm was killing her and she worried it was more than just a break. 

she saw you wince as you bent down to pick up more wood and she had to look away, not being able to see you hurt for some reason. “we should splint your arm,” you suggested, tossing more wood into the fireplace but keeping a smaller, thicker stick in your hands. ellie just nodded and let you approach her and as you went to unzip her jacket she flinched back. “i can’t do it with your jacket on.” you snapped, your shitty mood pouring out onto her. 

she softened her face and unzipped her own jacket but needed your help taking it off completely. as you were slowly pulling it off her bad arm, she sighed deeply. her arm was revealed, having only worn a short sleeve under her jacket and you wondered how she wasn’t frozen solid by now. “jesus, els.” you breathed out as you looked upon her arm. it was black and blue all over, some spots were a bright yellow and you held back from gagging. the redness from being cold didn’t help make it look better either. 

“i’m fine,” she lied, not liking you taking care of her. “just make the fire first, would you?” 

not surprised with her attitude, you obliged because you were even still freezing. the sun was barely shining in the windows anymore and you knelt beside the wood and picked a few of the smaller pieces of wood. taking your knife, you whittled off sections, leaving them attached at the bottom to the main piece of wood to work as tinder. and as you worked, ellie watched. she admired your survival skills, remembering that this is what kept you alive before jackson. 

ellie and you knew more about each other than you’d ever admit. being as close as you two were for months, you often had long talks in her garage to distract yourselves from the mutual lingering feeling of longing for one another. but as she observed you working, she remained silent and you did too, feeling her eyes burning into your back. 

the fire bursted to life with flames and you backed away, feeding it more kindling from the broken chair. ellie felt the warmth from the bed and now that she wasn’t numb from being cold, her arm was feeling worse. she didn’t dare look down at it, you turned to see her struggling to find comfort. you took off your jacket, the cozy cabin becoming warmer with every second that passed. tearing at the bottom of your shirt got her attention, you ripped until you had a long enough strip to work with. 

taking the wooden piece that you are using as a splint you kneeled in front of her. “give me your arm,” you said, your hand hovering in front of her. she shuffled her body forward, inches from you and you gently stretched her arm out straight. her moans in pain were loud over the crackling fire, “i know, i know,” you comforted her and her groans stopped but were replaced with quick and short breaths. 

you aligned the wood with her arm, taking your ripped shirt fabric and started to wrap it around her arm. moans escaped her mouth, not being able to conceal how badly this hurt. “almost done…” you trailed as you tied a knot in the fabric to keep it in place. 

once you were finished, and ellie was about as bandaged up as she could be, you sat with your back against the bed. wincing as you did, your side still burning in pain that seemed to spread throughout your body. “lemme see,” ellie murmured, shifting off of the bed to sit next to you on the floor. you grumbled a small i’m fine like she had but she didn’t accept it. “let me see.” she said more sternly. 

you rolled your eyes, lifting up the side of your shirt where the pain is erupting from. she examined it, the bruising on your stomach was prominent and she grazed her fingers over your hot skin. you winced from her touch, her fingers cold on the burning black and blue. “told you, i’m fine.” you reinforced, pulling your shirt back down. 

“i promised you they wouldn’t touch you,” she whispered beside you, you heard the familiar aggression in her voice as it’s usually directed at you but this time it didn’t feel like it was. 

“they technically didn’t.” you recalled, staring into the fire. but ellie was gazing at you, her green eyes scanning the side of your blank face. 

“i should’ve seen the hill,” she shook her head, focusing her eyes on the fire like you were. “i told you they wouldn’t hurt you and now look. i swear to god if they ever show their face around jackson i’ll–” her voice turned sour and she stopped herself from revealing what she would do to them for causing you pain, and although you didn’t blame her for anything that happened today, you couldn’t help but feel angry with her and her sudden caring attitude. 

scoffing, you spoke, “i’ve been hurt worse than this.” ellie understood what you were implying and snapped her head back to you, hurt swimming in her eyes. 

“what is that supposed to mean?” she hissed back at you, her voice rising slightly. she knew exactly what it meant but couldn’t stop herself from getting defensive. 

you laughed in disbelief, “the way you’ve been treating me for years? does that not ring a fuckin’ bell?” your voice rising to meet hers. 

“you’ve been doing the same thing to me, so don’t act innocent.” her tone was sharp but calm and you hated her for her ability to keep her composure. 

“i never said i was innocent!” your blood boiling over, you looked at her, her eyes meeting yours before she darted them away. “if you hate me, hate me. don’t confuse me by acting like you fuckin’ care.” 

“i don’t fuckin’ care,” she spat, using her good arm to lift herself off of the ground. she did care. and it was obvious to you, but instead of arguing about it further you let her walk to the kitchen as she dug in her pack.

you remained silent in front of the fire and despite the pain you brought your knees to your chest for extra warmth, the cold disposition of your patrol partner sucking out any warmth the fire was giving to you. ellie tossed over a small ration pack of food harshly, and you reached to take it. not caring that she threw it at you because now that you were looking at it, you were starving. realizing you hadn’t eaten this morning like you intended to. 

ellie moved back near the fire, sitting in front of you but staring into the wall. it was quiet while you both ate, or better inhaled the food in front of you. “i was supposed to have the day off today,” you remarked, chuckling at the circumstances though not finding it entirely funny. “i shoulda just told maria to fuck off.” 

ellie turned to you looking confused. “wait, maria asked you to do this?” you nodded in response and she shook her head smirking, “she asked me last night if i could cover for–” 

“manny,” you both said at the same time. realizing maria had set you both up, and you both couldn’t help but not laugh about it. 

“she’s gonna feel so bad!” you laughed, and somehow it was the funniest thing in the world to the both of you in that moment. ellie was laughing harder than you had ever seen her and you realized how deeply you missed this side of her, and how long it had been since you did. was it shock? maybe, probably. but even ellie couldn’t help but enjoy the small moment after the day you two had. 

“she probably thinks we killed each other!” ellie added mid laughing, causing you two to remain that way for a little while longer. it really wasn’t funny, but in some fucked up way it was. after you both calmed down from the singular good moment you had had in years, ellie added, “i missed that.” 

“missed what?” you questioned, not wanting the moment to end. 

“your laugh,” she uttered, boring her green eyes into yours. “i know that’s not fair of me to say.” 

this was the ellie you remembered, before all the fighting she was always kind to you. she was thoughtful. and she cared about you more than anyone you met in jackson. she patiently waited for your response, trying to judge if you were still angry. “i think we’ve both said things to each other we shouldn’t have, els.”  she hid a smile at your response, forcing her eyes to the fire that illuminated the small room. after a small beat of comfortable silence, she turned back to you.

“i really am sorry,” she spoke again and you cut her off before she could continue. 

“it’s okay, really–” 

“no i mean– i shouldn’t have– we almost died today. you almost died and i just…” she trailed off, gathering her thoughts. “i wanted to kiss you that day too.” 

you looked at her perplexed, and as you opened your mouth to respond she talked again. “it’s complicated and i was just scared–” 

“scared of what, ellie?” you questioned her again. 

she lifted up her good arm, revealing her tattoo. bringing your eyes back to hers and she took note of your confusion. she shuffled over and sat beside you showing you her arm up close. “just look,” 

at first, all you noticed was the tattoo. the ink perfectly etched into her skin, but as you really looked at it you noticed small indents buried in an intricate part of the linework. you took her arm in your hands to examine it further. bite marks. they were old, but they were there beneath the tattoo, permanently altering her skin with a nasty scar. “what the fuck…” you whispered skeptically, tracing it over with your fingers. 

“i was fourteen, so don’t worry i think i would have been dead by now.” she joked, hoping to alleviate any negative feelings you had about this. she sat nervously next to you and if you weren’t holding her arm she feared she would be shaking. 

“what does this have to do with me?” you asked innocently, taking your eyes away from her arm but not letting go. 

“i thought if we had kissed that i’d infect you somehow,” she laughed thinking of the memory. “i really shoved you off the bed hard, huh?” 

“my ass was bruised for weeks, so yeah you did.” you laughed with her back and it felt like the last couple of years hadn’t happened. 

“awww, poor princess,” she mocked you playfully. it almost threw you off, being as she hasn’t been playful in forever but you rejoiced in it. 

“shut up!” you played back, throwing her arm out of your hands and back into her lap. ellie noticed how close you two were, closer than when you splinted her arm, and it made her feel safe. she brought her hand back up to your face slowly and you let her, she swept strands of hair behind your ear. “you’re not scared now, though?” you pressed on, catching onto her intentions. 

“oh, i’m terrified.” ellie spoke softly, inches from your face. she cupped your cheek in her hand and gazed at you lovingly, her eyes darting from your eyes to your lips. she felt her stomach doing flips as she leaned in to close the final stretch that separated you two, as she did, hard knocks pounding at the door pulled you apart from each other. 

the door opened, revealing a disheveled joel and tommy. “thank god!” joel exclaimed, entering the cabin. “we saw the smoke, you guys are five miles off the normal route. what the hell happened?”

they helped you both home and to see the medics and it was nearly a day later when you saw ellie again. you endured what felt like thousands of visits from friends and neighbors that wanted to wish you a good recovery, and they were sorry to hear what happened. you were put on bed rest for a few broken ribs and they all hurt severely anytime you moved. 

but when ellie came through your bedroom door, you shot up in bed ignoring the pain that was plaguing you. she filled you in on what’s been going on, rangers are out looking for the group of men that attacked you both and they think they have a good lead on the group. this comforted you, but not nearly as much as ellie’s presence. she had a fresh cast on her arm, and ellie pointed out that it was really itchy, making you laugh. 

“maria feels really bad,” she smirked, a small laugh escaping her lips. “but she’s gloating about her plan working.” 

“course she is,” you answered. she moved across your room and sat down on the side of your bed to face you, looking down to your hands and took them in hers. “we might have to put on a show for her, can’t have her head gettin’ too big.” 

“anything you wanna do princess,” she leaned down and kissed your forehead. “but first, rest.” 

you groaned, “i hate you.” 

“i hate you more, now c’mon lay down.” she gently pushed you back down into the bed and you scooted over leaving room for her. she snuggled up next to you as you laid your head on her chest, hearing her soothing heartbeat as she played with your hair and you both fell asleep peacefully. feeling nothing but safe with one another. 

[bonecarversbestie]

An Ode to Spring

After a conversation with some friends I was inspired to write a fairytale style story about Tamlin drinking from the pool of starlight in an attempt to be happy again after Feyre left. I also drew this picture. ~1000 words Read on AO3 or below the cut

Once upon a time, in a Land of Eternal Spring, a Faerie prince was born to a cold and ruthless King and a kind and caring Queen. The prince’s name was Tamlin.

The King raised Tamlin with a firm hand, showing him the ways of the Seven Kingdoms and teaching him to rule the land of Spring without mercy. 

But Tamlin had little interest in ruling. He had a gentle heart like his mother’s, and he was drawn not to the throne room but to the fields and forests beyond it. 

He spent his days roaming the lands around the castle, writing poetry, and playing his fiddle for the birds in the trees and the mice in the fields. 

One day, Tamlin came across an enchanted pool buried deep in the forest. It was filled not with water but with liquid starlight.

He had heard stories of such a pool since he was a boy. The legends claimed that anyone who drank from the starlight waters would be happy until his last breath. But Tamlin never imbibed, choosing instead to save the magic for someone who truly needed it.

Years later, an Evil Prince from a kingdom of darkness came in the night and killed the King and Queen, forcing Tamlin to set aside his fiddle in favor of a crown that he never wanted.

Tamlin cared deeply for his people and longed to forge a new path for himself and his kingdom, but he felt trapped by the centuries of strict laws and traditions that remained from his father’s reign.

One day, an Evil Sorceress declared herself High Queen over the Seven Kingdoms.  The Sorceress Queen coveted Tamlin, but he resisted her advances, much to her displeasure. 

As punishment for his defiance, the Queen placed a curse over the Kingdoms, which only Tamlin could break by finding a human maiden with hatred in her heart for Faeries and winning her love.

For nearly fifty years, Tamlin sent his men into the Human Lands to find the Maiden, and for nearly fifty years, he was unsuccessful. Many of his men did not return, and when he ran out of soldiers, he was forced to send his friends. Soon only one remained—his most trusted courtier and emissary, Lucien, who entered Tamlin’s study bearing grave news.

 “Andras,” Lucien said, hands trembling, “is dead.” 

He had been killed by a human Maiden. 

Though Tamlin mourned his friend, Andras, he knew this Maiden was his last chance to break the curse, so he brought her to his home. The Maiden was sullen and starving, so Tamlin gave her food and fine clothes and her own room in his castle. When The Maiden said she wished to paint, Tamlin gifted her the castle’s art gallery. 

He watched as painting started to bring joy to the Maiden’s life. Her passion inspired him, stirring his long-forgotten love of music and poetry.

Tamlin found that he was falling in love with The Maiden, but as his love grew, so did his fear. He knew that to break the curse would put The Maiden’s life at great risk. And so, to save his love, he sent The Maiden away.

But the Maiden was very brave. She returned to the Faerie Lands, defeated the Sorceress Queen, and saved the Seven Kingdoms. 

Tamlin, grateful for all The Maiden had done, asked her to marry him. But she was in love with another—the Prince of Darkness, now a King and Tamlin’s sworn enemy. To add insult to injury, The Maiden took Tamlin’s last remaining friend, Lucien, with her when she left.

Though he still loved her, Tamlin could see that The Maiden was happier in her new kingdom, and let her go.

And so, Tamlin was utterly alone. His cries of anguish made the trees and mountains tremble. In his despair, he tore his castle apart, destroying books and artwork, finally smashing his beloved fiddle to pieces before leaving his home for good.

He transformed into a great golden beast and abandoned his throne, haunting his lands until they fell to ruin.

One night, he came upon the Pool of Starlight, still shimmering brightly amidst the decay. Overcome by sorrow and desperate to be happy once more, Tamlin bent his great golden head and drank from the pool. 

Warmth and comfort filled him, and he returned to his lands, renewed. But the euphoria was short-lived, and the next day, he returned to the Pool and drank from its waters again. 

For an entire year, Tamlin returned to the Pool, drinking more deeply each day, until one morning he arrived to find it empty. He had drunk it dry, and still he was not happy.

Tamlin climbed into the empty Pool, curled up at the bottom, and cried. And as he wept, his tears filled the pool with starlight once more.

As Tamlin lay in the depths of the Pool, hoping to drown, strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him from the water. Tamlin blinked at his savior, who was shining like the sun. It was Lucien, come home at last, and his presence filled Tamlin with joy. Lucien had not forsaken him. 

From behind his back, Lucien brought forth a brand new fiddle, offering it to Tamlin as a symbol of their friendship and a reminder to follow his heart.

Tamlin reached for the fiddle, and in that moment, he saw his own hand—not the golden paw of a beast, but the hand of a man.  He took the fiddle and began to play. 

It was a joyful tune of new beginnings. The birds in the trees sang, and the mice in the field danced as Tamlin walked through his lands, filling them with music once more.

After some time, the Land of Eternal Spring became a haven for artists and lost souls, ruled by Tamlin, the wandering king who had found peace. And they all lived happily until their last breaths.

The End

[corruptedcaps]

Bitchy Besties

“Leave me alone Cory! This is weird and creepy! This is why we broke up over the summer! You can't do this, not as we are about to start our senior year tomorrow! For a computer genius you really are stupid sometimes!” Kate said as stomped away angrily from her ex boyfriend.

Kate had been eager to get started on her course work for the year that she came in a day early to prep but was rudely interrupted by her Cory her ex boyfriend who she had been dodging calls from all summer.

“Please Kate! I did this for you! I know you were against this plan from the start but you have to help me finish it now, it will change you life!” Cory pleaded with her while holding the length of hair extensions he had stolen from Tanya, the biggest bitch in school.

“I didn’t want you to do this! Even if I believed that you were right, that Tanya got her confidence, her meanness, her power from her hair extensions, why would I ever want that?” Kate said finally stopping to face him.

“Because she’s been your bully for years and if you can take that power from her then you can finally stand up to her.” Cory said with no ounce of insincerity.

Kate wasn’t buying it though, she knew he just got off on this ‘corruption fetish’. She had caught him one day jacking off to posts online from some woman called ‘Evie’. Each story had someone go from a loser into a slutty mean bitch like Tanya. Even now she could see his crotch twitch.

It was why they broke up. Cory got it into his mind that because Tanya wore extensions that they were somehow the source of her ‘bitchiness’. The whole thing was absurd to Kate and the stories she had read were filthy. She wished he would listen to her. That’s when it hit her. All of Evie’s stories that she had read had the men subservient to the women so if she could ‘transform’ then maybe she could tell him to leave her alone for good.

“Fine! Give me that stupid thing!” Kate said annoyed as Cory handed her the hair and then handed her a bag.

“Wait what’s all this?” She asked about the bag.

“Well I figured once you change you’ll want to be in something more Tanya’s style, so inside is a dress, jewelry, makeup, and shoes.” He said with a sick grin. Kate rolled her eyes.

“Fine but stay here, I’m getting changed in the bathroom.” She said and he looked sad that he wouldn’t see the transformation first hand.

Entering the bathroom she emptied the bag onto the counter and saw with disgust the tight slutty clothes he had chosen. Sighing she just made peace with what she was about to do, once she had this done she could move on with her life.

Stripping off her baggy clothes she poured herself into the slick leather pants and tight white top. Both surprisingly fit her well. She had never considered herself to be the same size as Tanya but then again she was used to dressing as if it was perpetual winter. Even her boobs looked pretty good in the top, it helped that she had developed early but hid them from the world.

Eyeing the jewelry next, she put on the hoop earrings and the necklace. She thought she would feel weighed down by it all, but it all felt remarkably light on her body. The necklace even drew the eye to her cleavage, as if by design.

Next she stepped into the high heel shoes which were bigger than anything she was used to. Taking her first few steps she felt unsteady but after about a minute she was a natural. She thought to herself that her years wearing soccer cleats must be helping her adapt quickly.

Her most daunting task were the fake nails and makeup. She hated makeup with a passion but she needed to do this so picked up the makeup brush and began applying a soft foundation. It reminded her of art class which she loved and imagined her face as a canvas. She gave herself a smoky eye, a bold lip, sharp eyebrows. She was actually impressed by it all. Her lips looked fuller, her blue eyes more piercing.

Snapping on the long fake nails was a breeze too. She never understood before how girls could do anything with their nails so long but as she took out her phone to take a quick selfie of her finished self she found the clicky clack of the nails against her phone screen strangely satisfying.

However before she took the picture she realized she was missing one thing, the main thing that this was all about. The hair. Picking up the long extensions, Kate was thankful that her and Tanya had the same shade of colour otherwise it would look odd.

Clipping it on, she quickly found it was hard to find where her own hair ended and the extensions began. Running her hand through it she couldn’t find the seam, it all felt the same.

According to all the filthy stories she had read this was the moment where the ‘evil’ part of her would take over or Tanya’s soul would corrupt hers. Instead she just broke out into a laugh. She couldn’t believe Cory actually believed this would do anything. When she had broken up with him she had been crest fallen about it but now she was glad she had.

“What a loser.” She muttered to herself as she stroked her hair. She did have to admit she felt kind of empowered being in the get up. As if she were like a super hero who transformed into their costume. Although she was dressed more like a baddie in every sense of the word. Now she just had to act the part.

Closing her eyes she remembered back to the Evie stories she had read and tried to channel the girls in them. She thought about Tanya and her walk, her posture, her sneer. If she was going to get Cory to stop bothering her for good she needed to be convincing.

Opening her eyes she put a hand on her hip and stared at her reflection with the same contempt she has seen in Tanya’s face a thousand times, like she had smelt something rotten. The makeup helped make her expression cold and cruel.

“You think you can just walk around here dressed like a bargain bin reject and not get bullied, haha you’re pathetic.” Kate said with pitch perfect bitchy tone followed by an evil grin that curled up naturally.

“You’re the new girl here so you don’t yet understand that I rule this place. I’m the queen bee. I’m the head bitch. I’m Kate…” she began to say but her own name felt weird. Kate wasn’t the name of a bullying bitch, it belonged to a kind and sporty girl who kept to herself. No she needed a new name for her new persona.

When the name came to her she knew she was ready. Taking one last look at herself, she gave herself a wink and strutted out of the bathroom.

The first thing Cory heard was the clip clop of her heels and so was drawn to looking at her feet first. His eyes travelled up her body and every inch closer to the top he found himself get harder. By the time he got to her face he was pitching a tent.

“Eww do you have a boner you creep?” Kate said in her fake bitchy tone but the disgust was all hers. She couldn’t believe she ever dated him.

“I’m sorry Kate you just look like, my god…” he said his mouth agape. Kate knew she needed to turn on the haughty superiority, someone like Tanya wouldn’t stand for this.

“Kate? Who the fuck is Kate? I’m Kayleigh and why are you even talking to me loser?” She snarled at him. He seemed to shrink in her presence, a fact that made Kayleigh strangely proud.

“I-I’m sorry Ka-Kayleigh I d-didn’t mean anything by…” he started but Kayleigh just rolled her eyes.

“D-d-d-dipshit. God you’re pathetic. Is this what the school has in terms of men? Don’t you ever bother me again you hear me? Now scram loser before I give you something to really stutter about.” Kayleigh said glaring at Cory who froze for a moment before running off down the hall. Kayleigh watched as he tried to hide his erection from her.

“Phew that outta do it.” She thought and dropped her bitchy stance, letting her shoulders slump. However what she heard next sent a shiver through her body.

“Impressive what you did to that little weasel.” Said a voice behind her that she knew belonged to Tanya. Reasserting her mean girl stance, Kate pivoted around to see Tanya leaning against a doorway.

This couldn’t have gone south quicker, Kate thought, here she was standing feet away from her bully, wearing her clothes, jewelry, makeup and shoes. Tanya strutted over to her like a predator. Inside Kate braced herself but Tanya stopped just in front of her.

“You know I caught him stealing from me recently? Glad someone made him realize what a twerp he is. Are you new here?” Tanya said eying Kate but seeing only Kayleigh. If Kate was going to get out of this unscathed she needed to continue to act like Kayleigh a little more.

“Yeah I am. Its Kayleigh. Daddy got a job here and we are scouting schools. I have to say that this one isn’t impressing me much.” Kayleigh said, the disgusted tone flowing effortlessly out of her mouth.

“Ugh tell me about it. I begged mommy and daddy to send me to Alpha prep but they wanted me to mingle with the ‘common’ kids.” Tanya said disdainfully.

“Alpha prep? Babe those uniforms would have looked bomb on your fabulous figure.” Kayleigh said flattering her enemy.

“Right? I had all these plans to modify it to make me the hottest bitch there but being queen of this dump does have its perks, like getting early access to test answers for the semester, otherwise I wouldn't be seen dead here on a weekend." Tanya said holding up a sheet of paper with various subjects listed.

“Totally. Being here on a Sunday is making my skin crawl.” Kayleigh sneered in a way that Tanya found familiar but enjoyable. She didn’t recognize her own sneer that Kayleigh was mimicking perfectly.

"Hey why don't you let me take you to the mall and I'll show you around the best stores and I can fill you in on all the juicy gossip. I can give you a better sense of this school than you can walking these dusty halls.” Tanya asked. This wasn’t what Kate had in mind, she knew this would just prolong her time as Kayleigh but she was finding herself not caring as much as she had before. A few hours of pretend wouldn’t kill her.

“Totes babe I was thinking the exact same thing.” Kayleigh said and Tanya practically grabbed her and locked arms with her.

“I’ll show you what fun two hotties like us can have. By the way I love your outfit, it’s totally my style.” Tanya smiled at her as she led Kayleigh out of the school away from her baggy clothes hidden in the bathroom, away from her identity as Kate.

To be continued…

[aeshnacyanea2000]

Visitors to Ankh-Morpork were often surprised to find that there were some interesting gardens attached to the Patrician’s Palace. The Patrician was not a gardens kind of person. But some of his predecessors had been, and Lord Vetinari never changed or destroyed anything if there was no logical reason to do so. He maintained the little zoo, and the racehorse stable, and even recognized that the gardens themselves were of extreme historic interest because this was so obviously the case. They had been laid out by Bloody Stupid Johnson. Many great landscape gardeners have gone down in history and been remembered in a very solid way by the magnificent parks and gardens that they designed with almost god-like power and foresight, thinking nothing of making lakes and shifting hills and planting woodlands to enable future generations to appreciate the sublime beauty of wild Nature transformed by Man. There have been Capability Brown, Sagacity Smith, Intuition De Vere Slade-Gore … In Ankh-Morpork, there was Bloody Stupid Johnson. Bloody Stupid ‘It Might Look A Bit Messy Now But Just You Come Back In Five Hundred Years’ Time’ Johnson. Bloody Stupid ‘Look, The Plans Were The Right Way Round When I Drew Them’ Johnson. Bloody Stupid Johnson, who had 2,000 tons of earth built into an artificial hillock in front of Quirm Manor because ‘It’d drive me mad to have to look at a bunch of trees and mountains all day long, how about you?’ The Ankh-Morpork palace grounds were considered the high spot, if such it could be called, of his career. For example, they contained the ornamental trout lake, one hundred and fifty yards long and, because of one of those trifling errors of notation that were such a distinctive feature of Bloody Stupid’s designs, one inch wide. It was the home of one trout, which was quite comfortable provided it didn’t try to turn around, and had once featured an ornate fountain which, when first switched on, did nothing but groan ominously for five minutes and then fire a small stone cherub a thousand feet into the air. It contained the hoho, which was like a haha only deeper. A haha is a concealed ditch and wall designed to allow landowners to look out across rolling vistas without getting cattle and inconvenient poor people wandering across the lawns. Under Bloody Stupid’s errant pencil it was dug fifty feet deep and had claimed three gardeners already. The maze was so small that people got lost looking for it. But the Patrician rather liked the gardens, in a quiet kind of way. He had certain views about the mentality of most of mankind, and the gardens made him feel fully justified.

-- Terry Pratchett - Men At Arms

[empthy1]

robinhood!tashi x sheriff'sdaughter!reader,, the tashi brainworm is crazy and consuming me day by day. i love her. young!tashi, awkward and isolated despite her determination and cunning. don't quite like the ending but whatEVER. i love describing shit!! if you couldn't already tell. 1k words.

Wanted posters were smattered across the town—that was nothing new. Petty criminals and mercenaries were always getting cycled through the jail and the gallows. With your father, the sheriff's, seemingly-unlimited supply of young, skilled boys who groveled for a chance to join his cadre, most posters were in the fire in just a week or two.

This woman, however, was a long-standing frustration for your father. Most would only catch a whip of a curling ponytail or a flash of tawny skin, their fascination with the mysterious girl overshadowed when they realized their drawers were haphazardly emptied and their jewelry boxes raided.

It drew more importance because it was the people that lined your father's pockets—weeping wealthy ladies and their indignant husbands; portly merchants passing through finding a raided tent when they returned, fine fabric jaggedly cut by a hunting knife and their wares pilfered; reports poured in from the town's upper echelon, demanding that the sheriff do something about this rampaging thief.

The worst part about it? She was getting better. There was more time between heists, sure, but she'd be more knowledgeable with the extended planning period. They'd barely catch any glimpse of her anymore. Drawers that were once thrown open were strategically chosen and emptied gracefully. Eventually, it started to look like no one had been there at all—only the disruption in the dust a clue. By the time they noticed, she was long gone.

Your father rejoiced for a period of time. A full moon cycle had gone without her striking.

Maybe she stole enough, was spread, gossip about the woman rampant like wildfire in the markets and homes. Maybe she's content with what she has.

Instead, in the deep darkness of the inner woods, she's planning to steal the village's finest jewel.

You.

The sheriff's daughter was sought after. A powerful father and a beautiful face made for suitors lining down the streets. Being accosted by marriage proposals was not pleasant, especially when they interrupted daily goings-on. You couldn't even go to the market without being halted by a passing merchant or a noble son, looking to cull your favor—and, therefore, your father's.

You take to the backroads after that. They wind through the light woods, where the grass is untouched and springy. You've started carving a small path for yourself, the leather of your boots slowly wearing down the earth to mark your trail.

You didn't know it intersected with a special someone's hunting grounds.

It's a normal Saturday when your paths cross. You're headed to the weekend market, shall around your shoulders and fine dress skimming your ankles. The fabric almost catches under your feet when you stumble back—interrupted by an arrow shooting across the path, a few feet in front of you, to pierce a grazing buck.

It's a masterful shot. You suspect it's one of your father's men hunting for their families. You're proven wrong when delicate footfalls sound—much too light to be any hunter you know.

"Hello?" Rings your uncertain voice. The footfalls pause, before a face peeks out from behind a tree. Familiar tawny skin and loose curls enters your view, thin eyes widened with curiosity.

She looks much more innocent than she does in her wanted posters. Younger, too—she doesn't look any older than you do. If you thought hard enough, you could remember a spring market with that exact face passing by, ten years younger and thin with hunger. It stuck with you, that face. You never did find out what happened to her.

Seems she's doing well for herself. Her face has a healthy flush, her cheeks fuller than you remember. She shot up like a weed, the form once curled building-side long and lithe. Her thin fingers rest on a slim birch, her eyes darting between you and her kill—the buck limp and still in the underbrush, it's velvety horns awkwardly angled and caught in a vine.

"...hello." She sounds wary. It's an appropriate response, considering who you're related to. Any other would expect you to turn tail and bolt, skirt billowing and voice high with a plead for help, like the perfect damsel.

Your eyes fall to the deer. She'd hit it right in the shoulder, the sharp arrowhead piercing through flesh to strike the heart. A perfect shot, one done from behind the animal while it skittishly fled.

"...do you need any help carrying it?" Your murmur is soft, your words unexpected. It's not yet summer, the buck not fully grown yet. It wouldn't be pleasant for her to lug back to where ever she'd made camp, but she'd surely be able to on her own.

Instead—

"Yeah. Yeah. I'd like the help."

You helped her carry the beast, strung up on a long stick, deeper and deeper into the darkening woods. The leaves crunched under your leather boots, and the plentiful chirps of birds lowered the further you travelled.

Her camp isn't sparce. There's a firepit set up, rocks surrounding the still shouldering kindling. She has a tent set up, quilted together from scraps of green—some fine squares of fabric, cut from the merchants' tents. Other pieces are tweedy and threadbare, some with buttons and others with rough seams.

Despite it, the camp has a charm to it. Her personal items (stolen possessions) are placed around the small clearing.

There's a knife at the makeshift butcher's table with a jewel in its silver hilt, sitting next to the old, yet well-sharpened butcher knife with a recently oiled wooden handle.

Through the peek in the tent, a pile of all assortment of blankets lays over her bedroll. Some are animal hide, others finely spun wool that look suspiciously like the ones traded by Mr. Abraham. He wouldn't miss the money, surely—he could fill a silo with gold and still have a fortune for his children.

Your observation is cut short, however, when she directs you towards the "butcher's table"—really a thick piece of wood balanced on two adjacent stumps. Her breath rushes out of her when the buck is finally placed on the block, back curving with relief. The motion makes a few loose curls brush her exertion-flushed cheeks.

"Where were you headed?" Her murmur is low, her voice soft and smooth. A dark gaze flickers to yours—deep, like the ash that pools from your father's cigars, but warmer, like the umber stain that dyes your carved bedframe.

"To the market. We're out of tea." It sounds so domestic, the "we" you hum. Like a companion, you hover over her shoulder, peering curiously at the buck laid over the table.

"...you should get back to that." She's awkward, not cold, her bottom lip slipping under her front teeth. Her expression is all fluttering lashes and consuming eyes, devouring you before flitting away. Her fingers tap against the wooden slab. "Unless you want to stay."

You ended up bundled around her now-roaring fire, meat and a few vegetables she found (stole) roasting on the iron grill above it. A goblet sat in your hand, half-full of some of the best wine you'd ever had—surpassing even the foreign bottle your father brought from a distant lord. It was snappy and fruity, sliding easily down your tongue and staining your lips a fine maroon.

It was strong, too, making you both laugh at the slightest thing, swapping stories back-and-forth like you were best friends at a sleepover.

"So—" she exhales a breathless giggle, laughing before she can even tell the story— "there's this knight and his squire that keep following me around whenever they can. The knight wants to join my "merry band of thieves," or whatever he called it."

That comment sparks a high laugh from both of you, echoing over the crackle of the fire. It's easy, talking to her. With the alcohol flowing through your veins and relaxing your muscles, it's easy to forget that you're meant to be mortal enemies.

Maybe if she wasn't so damn pretty.

You're sat close to her, a foot or two apart on the wide, thick log. A moment of silence fills the night air, her breath exhaling audibly.

"...I'd thought about taking their offer, no matter how unsubtle they were.

I mean... I'm by myself. Could be good to get some more hands on deck."

Even through the alcohol meddling with your brain and coaxing it into mush, you can hear the somber note to her words. She's lonely, you realize. She must be. She's on the run, isolated in the woods, with seemingly no family. A hush falls over her small camp, only broken by your words.

"Maybe I could help you with that." Your hand falls to cover hers, fingertips gliding over the warm, tawny skin before settling and curling under her palm. The wine made you bold, itching to touch and comfort the unfolding mystery before you. When your gaze flickers to hers, her eyes are pleasantly glazed with surprise.

"You'd..." Her apprehension is obvious, and warranted—you're the sheriff's daughter, the jewel of the town, the perfect wife-to-be. Most wouldn't think you'd do anything that'd dirty your frock, much less your hands and your gleaming record of virtue. Stealing? With her? It seems implausible. Yet, you remain earnest, causing her lips to tick up into a gentle smile.

"I'd like that. If you'd stay with me."

The fire slowly burns down, the near-silence comforting and only broken by small, nostalgic anecdotes. With the warmth slowly seeping from the air, the distance between your forms closes gradually until you're past even shoulder-to-shoulder. Your sides mold together, the soft wool of her tunic folding under the press of your body.

With drooping, wine-drowsy eyes, you rest your head on her shoulder. You're pressed so tightly, your brow slots against her nape. Her neck is soft. The skin smells clean and, faintly, of pine. Her chin drops to your crown, nose lazily nuzzling at the strands of your hair.

"We should rest." Her low murmur is fairly quiet, but with the silence of the woods it curls around your ears easily. Her hands are strong and calloused from her bow as she helps you from the log. Yet, they're infinitely gentle as they support your back, helping you into her tent.

She guides you down onto the mass of fabrics. You're first cradled by soft sheepskin, and then fine satin. The last dredges of daylight allow her to help you with your dress. Her fingers work the ties more efficiently than yours ever would, especially under the influence of such potent drink. They ease the fabric from your shoulders, adding it to the nest of cloths. Her tunic followed soon after.

She lies back on the bedroll with a exhale of breath, gently guiding you down next to her. Her lithe arms curl around your form, snaking robustly. The warm press of her bare skin against yours is more intoxicating than the wine. Her chin retakes its space on the crown of your head.

"Sleep." Is the last thing you hear. Her calloused hands knead and caress the bared flesh of your back, soothing the soft skin. Your joined body heat is trapped under layers of blankets, keeping the environment under the pile toasty and warm. As the weak rays of the dusk putter out, swallowed by the dark trees, your eyes fall shut as well.

Her lips press to your forehead. The leisurely, gentle drag of her lips is a promise for the morning. Her heartbeat slows to a crawl beneath your ear, the rises and falls of her chest deepening. She dozes off after you, lips pressed to your hairline and arms snug around your form.

You never did get the tea.

[sweetbunpura]

Rollo wasn't always a Gumiho.

He was once a kannushi of a small shrine, responsible for keeping it maintained and clean.

It was a simple, yet tedious life and he was content with it.

Until, one day, a young woman came to the shrine. She was a foreigner, that much was clear, from the style of her dress to the tone of her skin to the strange sharpness of her eyes. She was an enigma. And Rollo was instantly captivated by her.

She told him that she had come from very far away and was visiting some relatives in a nearby village. She had come to the shrine to pray for their health and for her safe passage home.

"Though..I didn't expect a handsome man such as yourself to be the priest here," She giggled, keen smile half-hidden behind her hand.

Rollo flushed faintly.

Her laugh was a pretty sound, like the tinkling bells of a Kagura suzu.

It wasn't everyday the shrine was met with as beautiful a visitor as this.

Rollo cleared his throat.

"If I may be so bold..May I have your name?"

The woman grinned widely.

"Yue."

They talked for a long while after that, so long in fact by the time the woman had turned away to finish her prayers the sun was half-way set upon the horizon.

Had Rollo not had shrine duties to attend to, he would have eagerly offered to walk her back to the village. Thus, with a heavy heart and a lump in his throat, he could only grant a farewell and a wish for safe travels back to her homeland.

He did not expect to see her there at the shrine again the following morning.

"Were you not supposed to begin your journey home today?" He queried with a raised brow.

"I was," Yue answered, her sharp eyes glimmering and her lips quirked, "I changed my mind."

And so it was. Yue would appear at the shrine at dawn and follow and chat with Rollo as he went about his day and duty til nightfall.

Months went by.

Summer fell to Fall which froze to Winter.

The two grew closer.

The New Year came and went.

Winter melted into spring.

And the sharpness gradually seemed to fade from Yue's eyes.

Then, one night, under a full and heavy moon, she kissed him.

"I love you." She murmured, softly, hesitantly, as if the words themselves were as fragile as glass.

Rollo's gaze was tender. He kissed her knuckles, then her palm.

"And I you."

And there, beneath Tsukuyomi's gaze, they fell into each other's warmth, a flurried embrace of intense passion and supreme adoration.

A few weeks after, they were wed.

A few weeks after that, Yue found she was with child.

The eight months that followed were some of the happiest Rollo could remember, watching his love's belly swell with life that they had created together.

I should have lasted forever.

But.

It ended.

Slit apart like a knife across the throat.

Hunters from a far off land came.

They were searching for a creature Rollo had never heard of before.

A Gumiho. A flesh-eating monster that seduced men, ate their hearts, and stole their souls.

Yue paled. Rollo's brows furrowed.

"My love? What's wrong-?"

"We need to leave." Yue said coldly.

But it was too late to try and escape.

Her fate was sealed the moment Rollo had let them inside their home.

The very moment they laid eyes on her-

Arrows were fired. Knives were drawn. Swords unsheathed.

Yelling. Screaming.

Claws unfurled. Fangs bared. A flurry of fur and tails unvieled.

It was over in an instant, in a blink.

Blood and viscera covered the floor and walls of their home.

The Hunters were dead.

And Yue was dying.

A sword pierce her abdomen. Arrows punctured her chest.

"Yue-!"

Rollo collapsed beside her, his white robes stained red.

How does he fix this? He was no healer and the closest doctor was miles away how-

"I was so close..."

Rollo paused.

"What?"

He gently drew her close.

Yue gazed up at him with stuttering, blood-choked breaths.

"I was-" She coughed, "I was almost human...I was almost-"

Tears dripped down her cheeks.

"I haven't eaten anyone for almost two years..Just two more months..Just two more and I would have..."

Her smile was soft.

Her eyes were even softer, but they were fading, fast.

"You deserve to have a human wife, not a monster..."

Rollo cupped her cheek and thumbed away a tear.

A quivering black tail grasped his wrist.

"I love you," he kissed her forehead, "I don't care if you're a monster. I love you. I.. I'm going to save you. I'm going to save our child. I'll-"

Tears slipped and fell down Yue's cheeks.

They were not her own.

"You know it's too late for us, Rollo."

Rollo let out a gutted noise at that.

Shaking hands met his face.

Lips that he was so intimately familiar with met his own.

And something spherical and warm was pushed past his lips.

"Take it." His wife, his love, his world, whispered between breaths.

Tongues met. The sphere was pressed against the opening of his throat. He instinctively swallowed before he could think.

"That way...a part of me....a part of us....will always be with you...."

That night, Gumiho Yue died, along with her unborn child.

And on that same night, Gumiho Rollo was born.

And the world...

...Would burn for it.

(and, not too long after, a tiny black fox spirit opened her eyes. And her name...was Yuu.)

Where one life ends, another begins.

Yuu adjusts the hat on her head, nodding to passerby's as she enters what remains of a town. Normally, she wouldn't try and mettle in the affairs of humans, but this Gumiho had attacked one of their own recently. While Malleus could handle his own, he talked about the pure rage he felt from it and Yuu, who has the uncanny ability to purify most of the anger driven spirits, is tasked with handling it.

She climbs the steps up the shrine and pauses outside of the torii. Yuu doesn't need to step any further to feel the pressure of the anger.

"You in there, Gumiho?"

Silence.

"Alright, don't answer." She passes through and climbs the remainder of the stairs, stopping every so often to pick up a few stones.

Before hitting the main area, she pauses once again and juggles the stones in her hands. The Gumiho's hiding and with a sigh, Yuu, flicks a stone towards the corner of the shrine. The yelp she hears brings a smile on her face.

"Quit ignoring me."

A pair of forest green eyes glare at her form the darkness licking at the edges of the building.

"The dragon fled and now a kitsune takes his place?" The Gumiho's voice is soft as they step out from the shadows. "You hardly look like a threat."

The Gumiho's a man, tall and thin, with deep eyebags. He's still wounded from his fight with Malleus as his clothes are torn and a angry red wound can be seen on his side. His hair is short and gray, matching the ears and his multiple tails. Something in Yuu's heart lurches as she stares at him.

"Have we met before?"

"I've never seen you before in my life."

"Okay jeez." Yuu's own tails flick out behind her. "What's your name?"

"My name is of little importance to you."

"Humor me, jackass."

His eyes move off to the side before returning to her. "Flamme... Rollo Flamme."

"Flamme... Well, my name's Yuu-" She looked at his now frozen form. "Hello?"

"Yue?"

"No, Yuu."

Rollo's fur fluffed up as his eyes narrowed, ears laying flat against his head as he bares his teeth. "Have the gods not taken enough from me!? And now they send a common kitsune to mock me?!"

"Common?" Yuu bares her own teeth and cracks her knuckles. "I'll show you common."

[plzu]

Hot Chai - (Adrian Chase x Reader)

part 8 <- ☕︎ series masterlist ☕︎ ao3

a/n: happy new year! this fic is almost done ♡ also i almost forgot to post this here today lol summary: Adrian is mad at Chris. You're mad at Adrian. Goff gets loose. It's a whole thing. warnings: canon typical violence (chapter takes place during ep 6: Murn After Reading), no Y/N, nothing else major i don't think but lmk if i missed something word count: 5.2k

Can people be haunted by things that aren’t ghosts? Adrian wasn’t sure, but the image of your watery eyes, and hands shakily hiding your face — it haunts him.

Which sounds excessive. After all, how could you haunt him? You were very much alive. But if hauntings make people uncomfortable, makes it hard to sleep, and makes dread sit with the weight of a sandbag on their chests, then maybe it was accurate. Because nothing has bothered him quite this much since - well. There was the shame he felt at failing to kill Chris's racist dirtbag father, and the potential consequences this failure could lead to. But he got over that fairly quickly. After all, it's not Adrian's fault Peacemaker has a shitty dad.

But you — your eyes dimming when he told you about the threesome. The way your face twisted into something that made his world halt to an unsteadying stop, like the nauseating swaying of a boat at sea. The way your hands hid the stricken sadness from him, too late in hiding the pain.

Because of him. He did that. He didn't mean to, didn't realize he'd say something that could upset you, but still. It was his fault.

Crying generally made Adrian uncomfortable because he had a difficult time empathizing. He doesn't cry, not since he was little. Guts once told him it's because he doesn't have feelings like people do. So he never knew what to do if someone cried around him. It weirded him out, to be honest. He wasn't much good at providing comfort, tended to say the wrong things. And his hands. God, he never really knew what to do with them in those situations, became hyper-aware that he even had hands in the first place. Hands good at killing, but useless in comfort.

He hasn't made someone cry since high school.

Scratch that. He makes grown men cry, like, all the time. Usually accompanied by them pissing their pants because they're terrified Vigilante is going to kill them. (Spoiler alert: he does!)

Like one of the guys in the alleyway downtown, that he saved you from. The one that tried crawling away after Vigilante shot his knees. Weeping and wailing and cowering.

But that's different, obviously. Tears and sobs fueled by fear.

The last time he made someone cry because he hurt their feelings, though, that was definitely high school. Made someone cry because he was just being an asshole. Even if he didn't realize it.

It was eventually explained to him that some people are just weirdly sensitive, so you really didn’t have to try that hard to hurt them. Some people just had emotions like the skin of a too-ripe fruit.

He didn’t think you were one of those people. He never saw you cry in high school, and he definitely would have noticed if you had. Adrian was perceptive like that. ‘Specially with you. I mean, sure, you cried in the alleyway and again in his bedroom but the alleyway tears had to have been from fear like that other guy before he shot his brains out, and then the bedroom tears were from, like, residual fear, he thinks. Not because your feelings were hurt.

But then he told you about the threesome, and the mood shift swept across your face like a fissure, and it was just like when he’d made that girl in high school cry, except worse. Because it was you. You, the person he's been quietly fixated on since, like, the 10th grade. The only other person whose lips he fantasizes about -- either pressed against his, or curved in a smile.

He only ever wanted to make you smile. To laugh. It’s the very sound that drew him to you in the first place.

Instead, he made those pretty lips of your warble and twist into the shape of pain.

He should have listened to you, should have let you drag him to the restroom and take off his mask and shove your bodies together. Because then you would have taken his breath away and, with it, all his thoughts. Because that threesome with Chris pales in comparison to the feel of you touching him.

The memory of the threesome warps his emotions into anger and annoyance. Why the fuck did he follow Chris back into his trailer to bang some chick he didn't even know?

Adrian stands at the front (and only) door of Chris' trailer now. They were off today, no assignments from the Task Force. No Fennel Fields shift for Adrian. Today would have been the perfect day to finally, finally hang out with you, no Vigilante business to get in the way. But if his unanswered text messages are anything to go by, you don't want to see him.

And why would you? He made you cry.

Adrian knocks, and whatever frustrations that spurred him to Chris's place is momentarily put on hold when he hears Chris answer, 'Come in, Adrian' without even coming to the door. Adrian walks into the trailer, impressed despite his annoyance as he closes the door behind him and asks, “how did you know it was me?” to the welcoming back of Chris’s head.

“You knock in a very annoying way.” Chris didn't even turn around to look at him when he said it.

“Oh.” Ouch. Rude.

Adrian opens his mouth to apologize, as he usually does whenever people point out he's being unintentionally annoying, but something about Chris's tone kind of ticks him off. Instead, Adrian says, “well, maybe I didn't realize how annoying my knock was because I was distracted by your bad advice.”

This seems to get the other man's attention. In an irritated and confused huff, Chris asks, “dude, what the fuck are you talking about?” as he turns to face him.

“You convinced me to bang that underappreciated chick with you and now they're mad at me.”

This only confuses Chris more. “Amber's mad at you? Why would she be mad at you?” His face sobers into upset understanding. “Dude, did you give her a fucking STD!? You said you were clean! Great, now I have to get checked. I was just at the hospital, man, I don't have time for this.”

“No! I don't have an STD, I'm not talking about her! I mean my- the barista I've been telling you about!”

Chris rolls his eyes, annoyance rolling off of those huge shoulders of his. He just turns back around in his seat.

Adrian's fists clench at his sides at the action. This conversation is far from over-

Small tapping sounds grab his attention. Adrian looks over and sees the alien thing that flew out of the Senator's face sitting in a mason jar with holes poked into the top. “Dude, you still have that thing?”

“Yeah,” Chris confirms without looking back.

Goff makes squeaky noises inside its glass cage. Its little blue and white bug-like body, long-limbed, strangely animated. It doesn't move or act like any bug Adrian's ever seen (at least, not in Evergreen). There's an awareness about itself that clearly indicates some enhanced intelligence.

“He tried to kill us,” Adrian reminds Chris, “and he cut off half my toe.”

He's still a little sore about that, if he's being honest. Currently he's sore about a lot of things.

“Yeah,” Chris says, sounding weirdly detached, distracted. “Sometimes I just think I'm insecure about my masculinity and I'm making up for it by having a dangerous pet.” He says this all in one breath.

His words only confuse and, honestly, slightly upsets Adrian as Chris continues, comparing himself to 'knuckle-dicks in Georgia.’

Peacemaker has not been the same since he got out of Belle Reve. Yeah, he's still the same solid mass of muscle. He's still a giant jerk that says the funniest, meanest things. He can still kick ass, still sharp with a gun and never misses his targets. But now there are moments where he struggles to pull the trigger.

The wavering lately is worrying, to say the least. Maybe even disappointing. 

“Dude, my advice?” Adrian offers. “Cut it out with the introspection. The mind is a den of scorpions better left running from instead of towards.”

He should know. Adrian spent most of his childhood trying to analyze those metaphorical scorpions until he decided it was easier to ignore them completely. But things have been kind of rocky, lately, and Adrian has been finding himself taking a peek now and again. Something about both you and Peacemaker being back in Evergreen at the same time is kind of shaking up his foundation.

Chittering and tapping noises from Goff's mason jar grabs Adrian's attention again. “What is Goff doing?”

Chris spins around in his chair and they both watch as Goff uses whatever weird goop he's sitting in to draw a circle on the glass. Then he abruptly stands and grabs the mason jar in his gloved hands. When he holds it up to the cool, gray light filtering in through the skylight, they’re met with a droopy symbol of peace.

Sitting on Peacemaker’s couch, both men grow increasingly frustrated, but not for the same reason.

Seeing as Goff is attempting to communicate with them, Chris sets them up in his living room, Goff's mason jar on the coffee table, with a few rules for interrogation. There is, obviously, a language barrier, but the alien can understand English just fine.

Adrian is upset about how difficult the rules are to follow. Chris, for whatever reason, finds his confusion unreasonable. Sticking to 'yes' and 'no' questions isn't that easy, especially when Adrian has been finding it incredibly difficult to focus since last night, when he left you to cry all alone in the cafe.

Chris's impatience with him is just making Adrian even more frazzled. Usually he can deal with Peacemaker's snapping. He didn't always understand what he'd done to get yelled at, but it usually blew over.

This time, though, Adrian is finding that he is equally mad at Chris. So when Chris shouts that maybe Adrian should shut the fuck up, Adrian shouts back.

“I see how you are! Your preferred conversation partners are Eagly and Goff! Neither of who are capable of speech. Try introspection on that, motherfucker!”

Chris, for once, does not have an immediate comeback.

Adrian takes in a big, steadying breath, feeling the angry warmth on his cheeks and trying to dispel it. An apology sits at the back of his throat, rising up out of simple habit, but an image of your face -- usually all smiles and twinkling eyes -- flashes in his mind. Tear-stricken.

It's enough to force the apology back down.

Turns out, Adrian doesn't even have to apologize because Chris says he's right (I mean, he knew that already; those words didn't explode out of him out of nowhere), and continues in a tone that is unusually soft and quiet and reflective.

Adrian interrupts. Chris yells. This interrogation is going nowhere.

Adrian, having gotten the hang of the whole 'yes' or 'no' question rule, asks Goff, “would you tell your buddy it's okay to sleep with other people despite him having someone he already really likes?”

Chris yells again. “Dude, what the FUCK are you talking about? How is that relevant to an alien invasion?”

They're interrupted by a phone call, Aqua's Barbie Girl ringing clearly from Adrian's back pocket. Adrian rushes to fish his phone out, hoping very badly that it's you.

It wasn't you.

Adrian and Chris are up in the trees, hiding from the cops that are now tearing Peacemaker's trailer apart. The cops that Murn called to warn about, telling them to get the fuck out of dodge. Goff is strapped to Adrian's back, a brilliant move on his part to free up his hands.

Brilliant, until Adrian falls from the tree flat on his back, where one of the cops is looking for them. But that's not as concerning as the mason jar shattering, freeing Goff.

“Oh, shit.”

Goff shakes off the fall and flaps hurriedly towards the detective, who has her gun out and pointed at Adrian on the ground. Adrian’s less concerned about that and more concerned about what Goff’s next move is gonna be. 

Chris lands beside him and both men watch in horror and fascination as the alien flies directly at the detective's face, making her fall flat on her back as Goff starts burrowing into her mouth. The move is quick and aggressive and the detective struggles and fails to rip it out of her.

They rush to her side as blood erupts from her mouth, decorating the side of her face crimson as her body begins to convulse. There is nothing they can do but run once they hear another cop round the corner of the trailer and alerts everyone else to their position.

Adrian throws Chris's cell phone outside of the car window on their way to meet the rest of the team at the abandoned video store they've been operating from.

He says he did it to keep them safe, which is mostly true. They can track them through the phone, you know? When Chris angrily advises that his phone was secure and untraceable, and that now a bunch of Eagly pictures are gone, Adrian can only bring himself to be a little regretful. 

Adrian is finding something grimly pleasant about indirectly hurting Chris like this. Something scratching a weird itch in the back of his thoughts. It's similar to when he'd throw dynamites at the other man in retaliation for being almost blown up himself. But that was all in good fun. Just guys being dudes, entertaining each other with violence. Real macho-like shenanigans.

No, this was different. Adrian got some sort of satisfaction from tossing Chris's phone out of a moving vehicle right now because he's... more mad at him than he thinks he’s ever been.

And it's not because the hero he's looked up to has been weirdly introspective lately about the usual way they've handled criminals. That was more irritating than anything. It’s a lot easier to go through life without agonizing the lives you’ve taken; surely he can remind Peacemaker of that again.

No. Adrian is mad at Chris because he blames him for hurting your feelings.

“Thank you, by the way.” Chris sends him a quick, confused glance. “For telling me I could bang whoever I wanted. Real solid advice, bro.”

Chris furrows his brow. “What the fuck- why do you keep bringing up the threesome?”

“Because! If it weren't for you, I never would have made them cry!”

“Why the fuck would you tell someone you like that you had a threesome!?”

“You said it was okay!”

It's all Chris can do to keep from ripping the steering wheel off of this car and beating Vigilante with it.

Their argument evolved into weird hypotheticals by the time they stormed through the doors of the video store, but gets (thankfully) interrupted by the mean blonde — Harcourt.

“Hey! Do you have a diary?”

“No,” Chris half-shouts, voice still carrying the weight of whatever shouting match he was in the middle of having with Adrian.

Adrian holds the door open for Eagly to waddle through. Whatever qualms he has with Chris right now, the bird has nothing to do with it. Eagly is chill. Adrian's not gonna be rude and just not hold the door for him.

The conversation between Chris and everyone gets more heated once Chris reveals that Goff is now free. The team doesn't react well to this, which is probably why Chris kept it a secret up til this point.

“Yeah, we kept Goff,” Adrian clarifies in answer to Harcourt's exclamation.

“You kept Goff!?” Murn shouts incredulously. Eyes wide in angry disbelief. Like he doesn't want what he's hearing to be true.

“Because Peacemaker has masculinity issues,” Adrian explains. His lips quirk into a smirk that has absolutely no joy in it. “Probably the same masculinity issues that convinces your BFF — sorry, second BFF — to join you in a threesome even though it'll hurt that BFF's friend's feelings to do so.”

This makes Chris groan in frustration. “Vigilante! Time and place!”

“What the fuck is he talking about?” Harcourt asks, exasperated.

“He's all pissy because he told this chick he's been seeing about our threesome.”

Someone says 'ew' under their breath.

“He told me I could bang whoever I wanted despite knowing about the person I like!” Adrian can't keep the whine out of his voice.

Adebayo speaks up, addressing Chris. “You encouraged him to sleep around even though he's seeing someone?”

“He said they weren't exclusive!” It kind of feels like Peacemaker hasn't stopped yelling since Adrian stepped foot in his trailer.

“Still,” Adebayo says. “He's, like, obsessed with you and he'll do whatever you say.”

(“Hey!” Adrian exclaims. That's offensive, probably! Regardless of whether or not it's true!)

“He's a grown man,” Harcourt interjects. “He should be able to make his own decisions and not blame it on Peacemaker.”

Chris gestures a massive arm out to Harcourt, saying “Thank you!” at the same time as Economos says, “Someone likes Vigilante romantically?”

“That's enough!” Murn sternly shouts, silencing the room. “Where is Goff now?”

They explain how Goff took over one of the cops - the Asian woman.

Fury and disappointment reverberate off of Murn. “God damn it, Peacemaker.”

You don't know why you let it break your heart. Why you let it keep you up most of the night, curled wretchedly into yourself, weeping in tumultuous silence into your pillow.

Adrian Chase, the guy you got unnecessarily and hopelessly attached to, coolly admitted to having had a threesome. There was no tiptoeing around it, either. No hesitation before saying the words that casually ripped your heart out from your chest.

It really should not have hurt you the way it did. Hell, if he had said anything about sleeping with someone else just a few weeks ago, it would only have mildly annoyed you at best. Perhaps made you a tad bit insecure, but you would have shrugged it off.

But things have been slowly crumbling around you ever since that night your old high school friends ghosted you--

No. That's not true. Your life was falling apart well before that. It's why you came back to Evergreen in the first place. But Adrian showed up and made things momentarily steady. A patchwork preventing the further collapse of your mental fortitude.

But then you found out his secret, and he suddenly had no time for you. And before you could fully make peace with the fact that Adrian Chase -- the dorky weirdo from high school -- is Evergreen's infamous Vigilante, Peacemaker came back and you were no longer the center of Adrian's attention.

Which you are ashamed to admit stung.

And as if that wasn't enough, things at home have been so off and confusing. It's a different kind of nervous than what you're used to, walking through the halls of the strangely quiet house. You could always feel their presence, at home -- your mother's more specifically. You've always been attuned to her, some kind of survival instinct so you know when to avoid her. And you have to finally admit that there's a very vacant gap in the house, and you know it's because your mother has not been around to fill it.

This has caused a very antsy mood shift with your dad, one that would make you anxious if it weren't for the fact that his focus is no longer on you. It's on your mother's absence.

This should worry you.

The confusing part is that your stomach is not twisted in knots over the idea that she hasn't been home. You don't bother asking your dad about it when you see him sitting zombie-like in the living room late at night.

(You tend to avoid asking questions when you're afraid of the answer.)

(Hence why you never questioned Adrian when he'd tell you some unprompted lie.)

Truth be told, you can't help but to feel tentatively euphoric. It's one less thing suffocating you at home. Like the weight of a boot lightly lifted from standing on your neck.

You're about to head out to work earlier than usual—you've had free reign of the house since you woke up because even your dad wasn't home that morning, and it was nice until it got eerie—but just as you approach the front door, it swings open.

Your dad stands at the threshold, silhouetted by the light at his back. When you blink and adjust your vision to the sudden daylight that's poured in, you're startled by the unkempt figure walking through the doorway. It's your dad, yes, but in a way you can barely recognize. He looks rough and unkempt, facial hair growing in unruly patches around his mouth. The bags under his eyes suggest he hasn't had much sleep. It's like he's aged 10 years.

“Hey...” He says, but it's hardly a greeting. He barely even looks at you. Mostly, it's like he's looking through you. “Have you, by any chance, heard from your mother?” He shuffles past you in the hallway, not waiting for an answer. Probably not even really expecting one.

You watch the exhausted shape of his back. You feel weirdly guilty when you answer no.

An empty sort of exhale depletes out of him, and it's the only sound of acknowledgement. He doesn't ask anymore questions, doesn't say anything else.

So you leave.   You walk into the cafe half an hour before your shift starts, just in time to hear Matty's vivacious voice call out a 'small hot chai for the tall hot guy.' He's fully ready to flirt with the customer as he hands off the drink, but does a double-take when he sees you slink around the counter and to the back.

Matty's flirty smile slips into a frown as he shares a look with Ashe, who also noticed your sluggish arrival.

The two ambush you as you very poorly tie an apron around your waist. It's Matty who speaks first. “You look absolutely terrible.”

You drag your still-puffy eyes to look at him, unsmiling. “Oh, Matty. Truly, my favorite thing about you is your penchant for unprompted insults.”

Matty just rolls his eyes at your deadpanned sarcasm. Ashe steps in to try to amend his rude comments. “What he means is-” Ashe takes in the sight of your sob-swollen eyelids and chapped lips and crooked disarray of your shirt collar. “-wow, God, no, yeah, you do look terrible.”

You scowl. “Do you two have to be back here? Someone needs to be on the floor.”

“There are, like, two other baristas out there.” Matty quirks a perfect eyebrow at you. “Other people work here, you know. It's not just us three.”

You squint your eyes at him, like that can't possibly be true, but say nothing further on the subject.

As you fix the collar around your neck, Matty asks, “So? Are you gonna tell us why you've been crying or do we gotta pry it out of you?”

“Is this about Adrian?” Ashe's voice is soft with knowing and caution.

You avoid eye contact. “He told me he slept with someone else. Two someone elses, actually. At the same time.”

You squeeze past the two other baristas and start making your way out onto the floor. They give each other a look before following.

“So the man had a threesome,” Matty clarifies, less as a question and more matter-of-factly. And completely uncaring whether the customers in cafe hear his indecent statement. “Ugh, of course that weirdo is having threesomes. I could tell just by looking at him that his dick game is insane.”

“Matty,” Ashe hisses as they give him a light backhand on his shoulder. Then, louder, calls out your name. “So you're upset he slept with someone-”

“Two someones,” you interrupt, face otherwise unphased by anything that's been said so far as you clock in at the register.

(“Again, that's just called a threesome, babes,” Matty helpfully quips as he rubs the spot where Ashe smacked.)

“Right, sure-” Ashe says. “And this was something Adrian was hiding from you?”

You grit your teeth as you float right past the two again, towards the log book the shift supervisors use that's open to today's date. Huh, look at that. There are names scribbled here besides Ashe's and Matty's. “He just told me about it, like it was a cool fun fact.”

A customer approaches the register, keeping Matty from accompanying Ashe as they follow you back.

“I'm sorry he hurt you, but...” your mouth sets into a grim line at Ashe's 'but', still unwilling to look up at them. “didn't you tell me just a few nights ago that you guys aren't even together?”

“Yeah, but...”

But he made you feel like you were singularly special. An illusion that quickly shattered at his admittance to sleeping with this Peacemaker guy. Honestly, it probably would have hurt less if it had been some nameless bimbo desperate for Vigilante's attention. No history and less intimacy.

Ashe waits patiently as you sort through your thoughts, until your shoulders slump with resignation, unable to find the right words to defend yourself.

“I get it,” they say. “I get that it hurts, but it's not exactly fair to him or to you if you haven't told him what you want.”

Ashe is right. It was wrong of you to assume you'd have Adrian's sole attention forever. You just hoped that it would last long enough until you got the hell out of Evergreen.

Oof. When did you become so selfish?

Eyes softening, you finally give Ashe a grateful look. “How are you so wise? You're, like, twelve.”

Ashe smiles. “You make it really hard to want to help you sometimes.”

You once again find yourself alone in the cafe at the end of the night. Matty had stayed an hour past their shift just to absorb all the juicy bits of gossip, catching up on yours and Ashe's conversation. He also offered up a few encouraging words, in his own Matty way.

(“If you don't tie that delicious four-eyes down, I will,” he said, giving you a very pointed look.)

Ashe, once again, insisted on staying late with you.

(“If you can clock in early, then I can clock out late, no?”)

You only smiled and shook your head and told Ashe you were fine, really. It lacked the usual desperation, though, the one that tinged your voice with hopes of Adrian stopping by. This time, you convinced Ashe to leave by telling them you really wanted the time alone to think while also keeping your hands busy. So they left with less worry than usual this time.

You received several texts from Adrian earlier today, and you think about how you ignored all of them as you finish counting out the till. They're all unopened, having only caught glimpses of the texts as they appeared as previews on your still-cracked lockscreen.

The first text was an apology that only made you scowl. At the time, you doubted he meant it, or knew what he was even apologizing for considering last night, he only seemed confused by your hurt reaction.

Then there was the text you scoffed out, where he stated he was off today and could meet up, presumably to talk. If you have to see him in that stupid fucking mask again without seeing his stupid fucking face, you think you might actually scream until both your heads pop.

Now, as you lock up the safe, you think that maybe talking wouldn't be a bad idea. Maybe not the best idea, given your fragile emotional state. You really don't trust yourself not to cry more and Adrian's been no good with tears and you don't want to make him uncomfortable (though that should be the least of your worries).

And even worse than whatever it is Adrian has to say (I mean, what more could the man say? Mentioning the threesome was enough, you don't need to hear about they why or the how or the what went in who's hole-)

-Even worse than whatever else Adrian could possibly say is whatever you need to say. Speak out loud and make yourself more vulnerable than when he has you in the backseat of his Sebring with his mouth against your neck. Relinquish whatever remains of your pride as you put the power in his hands, lay bare the fragile beating of your heart and admit how much you cannot stand to be without him. How terrifying the thought that he might not feel the same, now that his real best friend is back in the picture. 

The feelings whirl in your gut all nauseating and you grimace. You hate confessing. To give someone else the chance to hurt you. It goes against your self-preservation instincts.

As the song playing on the store speakers quietly peters to end and transitions to the next track, you hear a noise coming somewhere from the back. You pause, straining your ears to try to listen as the music continues playing. You want very badly to play it off as just your imagination, but you're the only one in the store; after the things you have been through recently, it would be unwise to shrug it off without investigating.

Unwilling to venture into the back just yet, you simply stand from your spot at the safe and lean backwards, gazing into the parts of the backroom you could see, and-

Huh. That's strange. The backdoor is opened a crack. You're sure you closed it after running out the last bit of garbage, but it's hard to trust your own memory when you've been so distracted thinking about Adrian Chase and Feelings.

You steel yourself, blowing out a forceful bit of air through your nose and begin to make your way to the back. It could have just been some critter dumpster diving that made the noise, audible simply because the door wasn't fully closed. You close the door, making sure it clicks firmly shut.

As you turn back around, you discover you are not alone in the store after all.

They're still at the video store/base when an announcement reveals on the t.v. that Peacemaker is wanted, due to evidence found in a diary that Chris says isn't his. It's Goff on the podium, and, distressingly, the tall guy from the woods stands next to her, the one that killed those cops and helped him and Vigilante escape.

It looks like they got him, too. He has a face that looks like its skin is stretched too taut over his skull, so maybe it's fitting that he's joined the bad guys, since he already looks the part.

Vigilante's phone buzzes with a text alert, and it makes him forget the tension in the air for a moment. Only one person would be hitting him up at this hour. Maybe you're finally returning his texts!

Sure enough, it's your name on the screen he sees when he fishes out his phone, and his face almost breaks out into a grin. But when he unlocks it, he is greeted with a picture that makes the excited fluttering of his heart freeze and the smile immediately drops from his face.

You're in the cafe, in your work clothes, tied up to one of the wooden cafe chairs. Head lolled to the side, resting uncomfortably on your right shoulder, clearly (and upsettingly) unconscious.

Another text comes in:

If you care for them, you will bring Peacemaker.

taglist: @whatevermonkey @hiddlehiddlebatchedloki @nobodys-baby-now @navs-bhat @afraidofshrimp @training4theapocalypse @abbaenthusiast @jediviolet @t0byisher3 @madhyanas

[ if you would like to be removed from the taglist, pls let me know! it wouldn’t hurt my feelings, i 100% understand if you come to find it annoying or just not currently interested in the fandom. likewise, if you want to be added, i’d appreciate a reblog and/or comment/feedback ]