#just a warning you might be swamped with other people asking you to make them one too when they see you with it

[forcemeanakin]

Hot with brains

•WARNINGS: SMUT.  Fingering (f receiving), oral fixation, dirty talk, praise kink and also degrading kink, corruption kink kinda??? Edging. Public space. The OC has a kink that attracts her to smart guys.

Pairing: ROTS!Anakin Skywalker x Female!reader.

Summary: Anakin falls for the librarian at the Jedi Temple, however, he soon realizes his adorable smile and golden curls won’t cut it with this one. No, she likes something different: brains. 

Word count: 4.7K. 

A/N: Pretty self-indulgent piece. I've been obsessed with Anakin's engineering brain ever since I got into Star Wars and this idea had be floating around for a whileeeee. Hope you all enjoy reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it!

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You liked smart guys. 

It wasn’t a kink per sé. You just couldn’t see yourself hooking up with someone with no brains, let alone establishing a committed relationship with them. You were swoon by guys with deep thoughts and admirable speech skills. The type of man that would go for a whisky instead of a beer, or use real shoes instead of plain sneakers.

You being a snob might have to do with your upbringing, after all you were the daughter of two scholars and professors of one of the most prestigious universities of Coruscant. You were raised to be logical and love intellectual conversations. You wouldn’t- No. You couldn’t see yourself enjoying a space with someone with a low IQ.

That was the reasoning behind taking the internship in the Jedi Temple’s library as part of your college voluntary program. You had to volunteer a certain amount of hours in order to graduate from your Journalism degree with honors. 

You thought that even though this wasn’t exactly the area in which you were specializing, you would soak up some of the ancient knowledge of the Order, even make some great connections for the future. And so far it has been just that: A great experience. You got to read some really cool books and in the hours where no one would come, you got to finish some school work. The Jedi who would visit the library were nice and kind, always polite with a big smile. You even grew really fond of a young Togruta padawan that would spend her breaks in between training devouring books. 

It was calm and quiet. 

Until the storm broke through the door.

“Is this the one you’re looking for?” You yelled to Ahsoka as you climbed down the stairs with the title she asked for.

“Yes! Thank you, y/n!” She gave you a hug and ran to her table to start reading about the swamps in Dagobah.

You returned to your desk and kept registering the book’s codes into the control sheet when a loud sound made you look to the door, the one that was violently being thrown to open room for a tall, curly-haired man with dark robes.

You would recognize those robes anywhere. In reality, anyone from any point of the galaxy would recognize them.

Anakin Skywalker. 

One of the few exceptions of Jedi men who didn’t live up to the sophisticated standard of the Order’s image. And definitely someone you would prefer to stay away from. For some reason he was the favorite warrior of the people; the citizens would line up in front of the Temple to scream “Hero with no fear” to that pretentious douchebag.

He was fine. 

As what most people would call courageous, you would say careless. To others he was passionate, to you he was irrational. Not to mention how idiotic and unsubordinated he was; always talking back and doing things his way, ignoring what the guidelines said.

You didn’t like him. You didn’t like him at all. For that you were thankful that he never set foot into your sacred place. Until that doomed day.

“C’mon, Snips.” He shouted, approaching the desk where she sat. “We need to go. Council just called.”

“Can I have five more minutes? I’ve barely read anything about where we are going!” Ahsoka whined.

“You don’t need to read anything, we will find out anything that’s necessary there.” He huffed, finding his apprentice’s actions ridiculous. 

You quietly sighed and rolled my eyes. Of course.

“Fine… but y/n really took her time fetching it for me.” She exhaled annoyed and closed the book. 

Your eyes remained glued to your task at hand, not willing to look up and be involved in some type of pending argument.

“Who’s y/n?” Anakin scoffed rather loudly.

“Y/n! The volunteer?” Anakin frowned at the short explanation and shook his head in a negative motion. “You know, y/n! C’mon Skyguy, follow me.”

No, please no, you whispered to your insides.

“Hey, y/n!” You heard Ahsoka’s little footsteps running to where you were. 

“What can I do for you, Soka?” You answered, still pretending that you were too busy to move your head from its position.

“Skyguy hasn’t met you. Here, Anakin, y/n. She helps us out here in the library.”

“Ahsoka, we’re not supposed to be having social meetings, we need to go-” You finally gazed up and in that moment, Anakin and you made eye contact for the first time; it was intense. It felt like something clicked for him. “You must be Y/n.” Anakin shook his head lightly, hinting a little smirk as leaned over your table with fixed eyes. 

Hell, no.

“Yes, I am. How may I help you?” You were bitter, totally unbothered by his chiseled cheekbones, or his gorgeous hair, or his plumped lips. Not even the scar had any effect whatsoever. He was an ass and that was automatically a turn off for you. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t met you. You must be new.” He explained with dreamy eyes, subtly checking you out. You cursed the moment you decided to come in today with a blouse who had a bit of a cleavage. “I’m Anakin. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Actually, I’ve been here for almost two months now.” You suppressed the soul-eating need to roll your eyes.

“Oh, really? Sorry, I don’t come here much.” He leaned over even more, trying to keep eye contact even when you sat down. 

“Obviously.” You whispered on the low.

“Excuse me?” Anakin frowned, interrupting his beam to pout with confusion.

“Nothing.” You smiled widely with a fake grin. 

“Okay…” His frown deepened before a smirk broke out his lips. “Maybe I will make it a habit and visit more often.” He shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head to the side, deciphering the effects of his statement on you. 

“You should.” You looked at him and gave him a side-smile, making his eyes sparkle. “Books are good for you.” You returned to check the order of nabooian books on your computer. 

“Yeah, books are cool but there are other things I would much rather check out.” He smirked shamelessly at you, the back-handed comment flying way over his head.

You felt like gagging. Not the good kind.

Before you could come up with a clever response and shut him down for good, Ahsoka spoke from behind him.

“Ugh, gross! Let’s go!” The kid dragged him out by his clothes and before he disappeared through the glass door, he winked at you.

That was the first time you have seen him. First of many, many more. 

Since the day your paths crossed, he took every fleeting moment to come and “read”, when in reality it was just him eating, or drawing or doing anything but opening a book. Taking advantage of your breaks, or whenever you returned to your seat after doing rounds, he would come over and make conversation. About his battles, his accomplishments, his close-calls to death… or about random facts he collected from his missions and travels; Anything that would maybe impress you.

And when he wasn’t doing that? He would drown you in compliments, to see if in fact, you soften up to him. Anakin was already aware of your no-so-secret disgust towards him the day he caught one of your eye rolls.

Did he care? No. 

He was persistent: admiring your hair, loving the way you had styled it in a little bun (even though it was because the heat was eating you alive). He would ask about the tasks you were performing, sucking at pretending to be interested in hearing about organizing books in alphabetical order. 

And it would have maybe worked; his good looks combined to his natural charisma were enough to make any mortal melt at his sight. You almost combust when you saw him carrying some wood boards into the library, the primal part of you rejoicing at the sight of his strong muscles stretching. The man was eye candy, whether you like it or not.

But, boy, were you tough.

Anakin Skywalker was not your cup of tea to say the least. You wouldn’t collaborate in his attempts to get to know you. You were so uninterested in finding out more about him when you had already scanned him. Just a way-too-handsome-for-his-own-good guy who was lucky enough to be born as the Chosen One, because otherwise, he would have never made it in the Order. He was determined, you would give him that. 

His approaches were never creepy or invasive enough to make you uncomfortable, only to drive you wild. Even when he was the worst part of your day, you had to keep the polite but distant charade going on, in order to protect your job. Your disgust towards him, instead of hurting him, amused him. He liked challenges and you were freaking Mission Impossible. Although he also saw the flaws in you: a pretentious prick girl who had probably achieved everything in her life thanks to nepotism. But he could see past that.

Because, boy, were you hot. 

And he was sure you liked it nasty. 

Underneath your goodie-two-shoes clothes hid the true you: he knew you loved being treated like a filthy slut.

“Hello, y/n!” Ahsoka squealed in an excited voice. You two have grown to adore each other. 

“Hey, Soka!” You responded happily, finishing to put some encyclopedias on a shelf. When you turned around, you saw she wasn’t alone. “Oh… good afternoon, Anakin.”

“Nice to see you too, y/n.” Anakin huffed in a sarcastic voice before strolling to where you were, Ahsoka following close behind. “Is that a new shirt? It suits you.”

“No, it’s the same white button up shirt that I’ve always used.” You smiled and turned around to roll your eyes in peace. He was too busy devouring your bosom behind the fabric to ever notice the barrier between his eyes and your skin.

“Y/n, do you think you could grab me a book about loreeks? I’m doing a little presentation about them for my science class.” Ahsoka asked you with a sweet voice.

“Oh sure… just let me look oveeeer…” You walked, stretching the words as you searched in the countless sections. “...here. It must be on one of these shelves.” You announced when you entered the exotic animals aisle. 

Digitating the code on your scanner you found out it was in one of the tallest shelves, only reachable with a ladder. Right when you were about to move it, Anakin came in.

“Don’t worry, Y/n. I’ll get it.” And he used the Force to bring the book down. “Here you go Snips, study hard.” He nudged her head, annoying her.

“Yeah, I guess… but it’s Friday. Can I read after I hang out with the other padawans? Barris and Meelo are going skating!” She gave her best puppy eyes, to which Anakin agreed, after giving it little to no thought.

“You didn’t have to give her the book, I could have done it.” You waited for Ahsoka to leave before dropping the bomb. 

“Easy there, kitten. I was just helping out.” He furrowed his eyebrows. As if the unnecessary nickname wasn’t enough to drive you mad. Looking down, he saw the rest of your outfit and lingered his eyes more than necessary in your short, black skirt. “On second thought, I might have let you do it.” He smirked confidently.

“Just stay out of my way, okay?” You growled, walking away from him to your desk, not without bumping your shoulder with his on your way out.

“What the hell is your problem?” He asked with an incredulous face.

You were done. The build-up from the past month was beginning to choke down your sense of decency. Not to mention that your day was already going terrible before he appeared: the droid that would always help you out was broken, significantly delaying your work day. Also, it was laundry day and you had to use your uncomfortable lingerie.

“You know what, Skywalker?” You turned around with raised eyebrows. “You’re my problem.” He opened his eyes in bewilderment. “I don’t like you. I don’t appreciate you coming in, all macho-” You made a mocking manner. “-acting like a goddamn superhero, only after cleaning up the mess you created in the first place.” You crossed your arms in your chest. 

“I’m a general, kitten, and I can assure you the war it’s not my fault.” He scoffed, he used the nickname again, knowing it would press your buttons. 

“And how many times have you messed it up bigger than it was?” You squinted your eyes, only to see him run out of words. “That’s what I thought.” You came back to digitating codes. “It’s like you don’t think. You are just a machine run by adrenaline and praise.” You finally rolled your eyes in front of him without shame. You tried to run down the reports that C7, your assistant droid would do, only to fail and almost delete everything in your computer. “And I can assure you I have bigger problems than dealing with you!”

“Okay, back down-”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You yelled, getting desperate and throwing a tantrum at the device. You had enough for the day. You could leave, given that no one would come over this late, but your sense of responsibility prevented you from going home before finishing your work load. “I fucking hate this system!”

“Let me see-”

“Don’t! Just don’t, okay?” You swatted his hand away. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Could you stop being so stuck-up and let me help you?” He raised his voice, stepping up close to tower you. His eyes were on fire and you could sense that your previous comments did get to him, but for some reason outside of your understanding, he was still willing to help.

“Fine.” You chewed the words in your mouth, stepping down as you glared at him, giving him space to analyze the situation.

Instead of leaning down the computer, he went directly to C7, who lingered weakly on the side of your desk. He picked him up and put it on the table, moving him around his hands to examine the droid. He hummed after a couple of minutes, putting the mechanical body at eye level. “I see.”

“See what? What is it?” You pressed, trying to pick a glance from over his shoulder.

“I’m going to need my tools.” He murmured, dropping the droid back again.

“Wh-”

“I’ll be right back.” He exclaimed, before heading to the door in a rush.

“Wait! What?” You shouted, the shadow of his body the only thing visible.

You stayed alone for about fifteen minutes. You even got to thinking that he was pulling a prank on you, after yelling at him. But you stayed there, because well… what else would you do? You were beginning to fall asleep as you played with paper clips, when you heard the door being opened again.

“Finally! I thought you had left!” You sighed in relief, pushing your body off your desk. 

“I was getting my tools, I told you.” He frowned, lifting the heavy, dark red box to the white marble. “Now let’s bring this one back to life.” He smiled, before busting the carcass open. 

It took Anakin less than what you waited for him to get C7 up and running again. He flipped panels, snapped cables and pressed buttons, at an order that seemed random to you, until C7’s mechanical eyes opened again.

“Oh my God!” You laughed in disbelief. “He’s functioning again!”

Anakin smiled down at the table, as he finished up adjusting some screws. C7 sat up, analyzing his surroundings before getting up and going straight back to work. 

“I-I-” You were speechless. How did he do that? So fast? “I can’t believe you just did that.” You mumbled, still looking at C7 like it was a ghost. “Thank you, Anakin.” You turned around with apologizing eyes, twitching an embarrassed smile. 

“No problem. His transmitter was disconnected from the main system. I had to fix his-” The next couple of things that he mentioned sounded like pure gibberish to you, but he was very firm, so it must be true. Right? Sensing your bafflement, he spilled facts slower and quieter until he stopped talking, finalizing with a dry smile. “Yeah, it was nothing.”

He was starting to pack everything in his toolbox again and you had a pending need to say something. However, you didn’t know if you should kick off with a real apology or-

“How did you know all that?” So a pop quiz it was. In your defense, you were genuinely curious about the abilities he had just demonstrated. Mindblown, to be more specific. 

“About what?” He furrowed his brows, closing the box but leaving on the table. 

“About the transmitter, and the restraining bolt, and- and-” You were running out of technical terms. 

“Mechanics are second nature to me at this point.” He shrugged his shoulders, picking up the box. “I know everything about the topic, so, it was an easy fix. I’d have rearranged his central system if I had the missing part, but it’s very specific. What I did will do for now, though.” 

He was about to leave when he noticed the way you were leaning on the table, head on top of your fist to pay close attention to him. You were murmuring almost unhearable “uh-huh”s, totally lost in his words. 

“Sooo, you know mechanics.” You were such a hypocrite, you couldn’t stand the man fifteen minutes ago and now you were drooling over the sight of him explaining complicated shit to you. Snob. “You often fix things?” You tried to investigate, see if the throbbing happening between your legs was worth pursuing. 

“Sometimes… I often go to the hangar and repair the damaged ships or flip them.” He grinned without teeth. “The techs often ask for me. They say I have an eye for these things. Been working on droids since I was a kid, so.” Anakin wasn’t trying to brag, but his ample knowledge in mechanics was something that he prided himself on. 

“That seems like a lot of work.” You continued the small talk, slowly losing yourself over this spontaneous crush. 

“It can get tricky.” He dismissed, beginning to notice the glint on your eyes. He recognized the way your irises had darkened: He got those fuck-me eyes wherever he went. “Still haven’t found something I can’t fix.”

But it was involuntary. The fact that he was an expert on a matter as hard as mechanics scratched a part of your brain; It flipped a switch inside of you. Anakin was a different man under your eyes now. He was smart, hella smart. 

“Gosh, that’s so impressive.” You giggled like the girls that would flirt at him. Pathetic. But you quickly regained control, not before sucking up some courage and getting closer to him, posing more seductively this time. “That brain of yours sure hides lots of secrets.”

He hadn’t quite figured out why the change of heart, so it took him a moment to replay your evening together. It lasted a bit more than he liked to admit, but it hit him. Of course. An arrogant smile cracked his face. Of course you would be attracted to someone who was a master of something you consider relevant. After all, you liked to consider yourself an “intellectual”. Just to test his theory, he consciously started to brag about something else… something that would have your panties in a bunch if his hypothesis was correct.

“Wanna know another one?” He cocked an eyebrow, resting his elbow on the table to stand inches away from your face.

Your face shined with a slight pink blush, but it was the way you bit your lip that drove him crazy. That and your enthusiastic nod. “Yeah.”

“There’s a reason behind why I’m the best pilot of the fleet. And it’s not just because of my background as a pod racer or the Force.” He whispered, snickering at how soft your eyes had grown. “It’s actually because… I use physics.”

“Physics?” You almost moaned. 

“Yeah, physics.” He repeated, moistening his lips, a thing your eyes followed. “Self-taught, just like with mechanics.”

That ripped a subtle whimper out of you. Well, not subtle to him. 

“You-you understand math?” If it wasn’t because you were visibly squeezing your thighs at the newly acquired information, he would be completely offended that you thought he was dumb as fuck. 

“Love em.” He muttered, his intense stare glued to you, as his fingers put a string of hair behind your ear.

Like thunder, you were rushing to capture his lips and show him just how hot you thought he was now. Anakin freezed at first, taking aback by your sudden demonstration of affection, but when he understood that you were willingly -and enthusiastically- giving yourself to him, he wasted no time to embrace you back. 

Wet kisses splashed everywhere; it was fucking mess. You hung onto his shoulders while he groped all of your body, starting with your sweet hips, fondling your ass like it was his personal stress ball and finally landing on your waist. You pressed against him shamelessly, but in reality, how much shame could you still have when the man’s tongue was down your throat? The only thing you knew with certainty was that the sucking sounds and moans you both dropped were intensifying the already sex-filled atmosphere.

“Anakin.” You tried to sound normal, but your voice was failing just like your knees were. “W-why haven’t you gone to a proper school? Maybe get a degree?”

Was that seriously so important to you? The opinion of others? Anakin questioned in his own head.

Anakin was the kind of person that wasn’t susceptible to the opinion of others, especially regarding his own image. He was sure of the shit he knew and didn’t need anyone validating that for him. No expensive universities, no uptight professors; Obi-Wan was more than enough. Nonetheless, he had found a shortcut to get inside your pants and God as his witness, he was gonna use it. 

“Y/n.” He snickered right in your face, drinking in the power. “I don’t care about any of that. I'm a certified engineer, that’s how I got to build this myself.” Removing the leather, he revealed his mechanical limb to you, wiggling his fingers.

It was fancier than you ever thought a mechanical hand could be. Black with touches of gold; it was elegant and sophisticated, way more advanced than any technology you had ever seen in the orthopedics research field. And you knew it well, your mom was an orthopedic surgeon. 

It was no surprise to him that after spilling that last fact you were now shamelessly grinding on his half-hard. The fact that he was an engineering mastermind was such an aphrodisiac. And as much as he wanted to have another taste of your full, pink lips, the ones he often imagined enveloped around his dick while you scolded him, Anakin wasn’t willing to make the first move.

You were going to have to beg for it. 

“Anakin?” Your hands flattened on his pecs, back arching when he cupped your cheek with the cool durasteel prosthetic, kneading against it with soft eyes. He must have noticed how captivated you were by his invention. 

“Yeah, baby?” He continued the soft ministrations up and down your cheek, redirecting your gaze to his face whenever your eyes would deviate to his artificial limb. 

“You- Uhm, you built it from scratch?” You gulped when his thumb inched closer to your mouth, rubbing your bottom lip and pulling it open. 

Little obedient you put no resistance, and instead, stuck out your wet tongue to happily receive his digit into your warmness. But this time it was his index, the one you were bobbing your head into, eye contact not faltering even when you were practically giving oral to his hand. Anakin smiled pleased at your enthusiasm for pleasuring him and added another finger for you to lubricate. 

“From scratch.” He nodded, lustful irises boring into you. “Designed it too.”

You moaned around him, feeling content with being sandwiched between his firm torso and your desk, and with your mouth being fucked by his fingers. Saliva smeared all over your chin, you whined pitifully when your lips were no longer stuffed. On the contrary of leaving you all hot and bothered, Anakin lowered those same fingers to your leaky cunt, pushing your underwear aside for easy access. 

He groaned when he first inserted a finger, your gasping a sign for him to slow down. “Baby, you’re tight.” He seemed to love that about you. 

After adjusting to the size of his strong index finger, Anakin breached in with his middle one, repeating the process of you getting used to the coldness and girth all over. 

“A-Anakin.” You closed your eyes, involuntarily standing on your tippy toes. 

“That’s right, you’re doing so well. Taking my fingers like a true champ.” He bit down a condescending smile. “Atta girl.”

The initial discomfort was just a milestone you had to overcome to succumb to the pleasure that it was being fucked by Anakin Skywalker’s metal hand. His frigid thumb came to roll over your bundle of nerves, helping you relax into him and enjoy the sensation of fully riding his hand. 

“That’s it. Fuck my hand just like that, kitten.” He chuckled, finding a spot on your neck to latch on, leave a little souvenir of your encounter, and hide his pitiful laugh. 

Kisses were peppered along your exposed throat, your clavicle and jaw, his long eyelashes tickling you and making you clench around his metal hand tighter. Whilst you worried about not whining too loud for anyone to enter the library, Anakin was pumping his fingers at such an unholy pace to complicate your task.

“Shhh, baby. You need to be quiet. Wouldn’t like for anyone to come in. You could lose your job.” He mocked with a side smile and you had to gripped his bicep to keep your balance. “Could you imagine? Getting caught having sex at work? With a Jedi?”

You could perceive that the trespassing of the pseudo-celibacy Jedi code was turning him to no end, the mischievous glimmer in his eyes getting stronger when he said the last sentence. 

“W-We’re not having sex.” You corrected him, like it mattered. Like having him knuckles deep into you was somehow less frowned-upon than to have actual coitus.

That made him laugh and you wiggled underneath him, fighting to not let your tears fall. 

“You just wait.” His lips ghosted over yours, his breath fanning over your heated face. The increase of the movements of his hand was a sign that he had noticed the contractions around his digits, fully aware that you were close. “Ready to come, baby? Gonna gush all over me?”

You nodded, biting your swollen lip, losing the battle against your tear duct. Anakin used his other thumb, the one that was not torturing your clit, to liberate your abused lip. His mouth lowered to capture yours in a hot kiss, this tongue sliding on your inside until it hit your throat. So deep into you that you would never forget his taste; so deep you will never be able to deny him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You whimpered against his smile when you reached your peak, dissolving into this meaningless mass between his arms. “Anakin…” You rode out your climax, still rocking your hips to prolong the pleasure.

Anakin waited until you regained some composure to help you fix your clothes, putting back your underwear as he found it and lowering your skirt. His actions had you frowning: Weren’t you two gonna fuck? You were already mentally prepared to welcome his enormous cock in your tiny canal. 

He grinned at your puppy eyes and adorable pout, your flustered state funnier than it should be. It was almost enough to break him. But someone had to give you a lesson. 

 “At the end of the day, I’m just a soldier, Y/n. An incompetent one, according to you.” 

Before you could protest that, he was tilting his head in an accusatory manner. Like saying: Don’t even try it. And before leaving with his head high, he spat: 

“My apologies if that’s not fancy enough for you, ma’am.”

[clockwayswrites]

Bleeding Out, Bleeding In - the Start

This is the start of the resulting fic from the winning poll option of 'Crime Boss is a Dangerous Job'. And boy did it go places.

A solid 40 of you wanted to wait for ao3, but the other 59 are feral gremlins who want a part now! Those who want to wait, don't feel pressured to read. This might be up on ao3 this week or if not then next week! (Yes, that doesn't add up to 100, one vote is me so I can see the poll results.)

wc: 1059 Content Warnings: canon typical violence, blood, blood drinking, mentions of death and dying, brief mentions of human tracking, so much cussing.

-

Brainless motherfuckers.

Every single one of them, brainless motherfuckers.

One would think that eight heads in a duffel bag would have been enough.

One would think that people would learn his fucking rules. They were easy rules. Don’t hurt kids. Don’t sell to kids. Don’t hurt sex workers. Don’t traffic people. Don’t fuck with him.

And these motherfuckers had fucked with him. They had fucked with his rules.

Red Hood stared down at the lifeless eyes of the traitorous lieutenant.

Ex-lieutenant.

Brainless motherfucker.

Hood was insulted that someone that incompetent had managed to make him bleed, even if it had been eleven against one. And fuck if he wasn’t bleeding badly. Hood pressed his hand tighter to his wound with a hiss and let himself slump back against the grimy wall of the ally that he had slunk into. His hand became wet with warmth.

He must have already bled through the hasty field bandage that he had slapped on the wound.

Numbers slipped through Red Hood’s foggy mind as he tried to calculate about just how bad of a fact that was— about how heavily he must be bleeding out. Fuck if he wasn’t bleeding out.

Could he make it to his safe house in time? No. Could someone make it to him in time? Maybe, but who could he call? He wasn’t going to turn around and let another lieutenant stab him in the other side. B— maybe it would be better to just bleed out than deal with B and another lecture. As if this hadn’t been in self defense. As if he hadn’t acted to stop kids from being sold. As if a moment of hesitancy about killing a man he’d been working closely with for a year had been what got Hood in this spot.

And Dick was off world.

Dick was always off world when he needed him.

That wasn’t fair. What did Dick owe him? It’s not like they had ever been family. Dick had never wanted him. The last person who had wanted him didn’t even want him enough to stay sober.

Blood loss made him maudlin, apparently.

Dying by explosion had been easier.

“You know, not what I expected to find dumpster diving tonight.”

Hood’s hand dropped to brush over the grip of his gun. It was up and aimed before his head even had time to lull towards the voice. The hand holding the gun was steady even as his vision swam staring down the sight.

“Not that I’m doubting you can use that, Boss, but would rather you didn’t,” the stranger said, hands up in the air. One large duffel sat at their feet. Another smaller duffel was slung over their back. A hoodie at least three sizes too big swamped the slim figure— hiding both their form and face. The steel toed boots looked comically large at the end of stick thin legs.

Hood knew better than to think they weren’t a threat.

Anyone could be a threat in Gotham.

“Really, Boss, I’m just out here dumpster diving for supplies,” they continued, motioning to the warehouse district around them. “Not going to lie and say I won’t happily loot your corpse if you keel over right there, but would rather you stay breathing. I can help with that, if you let me.”

“And if I say no?” Hood asked, his voice a breathless rasp even through the modulation of the helmet.

“If you say no to the help, I’ll just be on my way. There are other dumpsters to go through like the feral raccoon that I am.”

His arm dropped down to hang limply at his side. He didn’t take his finger off the trigger. He shouldn’t trust this stranger. “Look more like a street rat to me.”

“We’ll compromise to possum then,” they said, slowly lowering their arms.

He shouldn’t trust this stranger. Did it mater if he did?

He was bleeding out.

The gun slotted back into its holster.

“There you are Boss, we’ll get you patched back up.”

Hood blinked. They were tucking themselves under his shoulder, leaning him up off the warehouse wall.

Hood blinked. They were disabling security on a heavy, cast iron door set into a concrete floor.

Hood blinked.

“Not going to lie, Boss, you’re in a bad way.” The words were distant— like listening to them through a thick wall. Static ran under the words. Static that burrowed under his skin and into his blood.

Static that burned at a part of him he tried to ignore.

“Think they got something pretty vital with that knife.”

He didn’t want to burn.

“Stitched you up but…”

He didn’t want to die.

“Oh Boss.”

Not again.

“I know, Boss.”

A cold hand brushed over his temple and he couldn’t hold back the whine at the sensation. He strained to arch up into the touch. He wanted it. He wanted to feel. He didn’t want to slip away again. He didn’t want that void of death. He didn’t want to die again.

The voice shushed him. “I know.”

He trembled. The static sang in his veins.

“There’s something I can try, Boss, but it will change thing.”

Things were always changing.

“Not like this. You’re not on the knife’s edge yet. You’re still living. If you die you right now you tip over to the other side.”

He’d done that before.

“I know, Boss. But if we do this, you’re not going to tip over anymore, you’re going to balance on that knife’s edge. Not dead but not alive. It’s a fine line to walk.”

Everything in his life was a tightrope: hero, villain; son, enemy; brother, stranger. What was one more thing? Alive, dead.

He didn’t want to be dead again.

“Okay, Boss, okay.”

The hand pulled a whine from his throat as it moved away. A soft coo hushed him quiet again. The sound rumbled in with the static untill the soothing noise sat inside him.

His head tilted up as something slid under his neck. Hands guided his head to lay back down onto a soft surface.

Something wet dripped against his lips. Spice bloomed across his tongue.

“There you go, Boss,” the voice soothed. The coo rumbled in his chest like a fluttering bird. “Drink up.”

Cold skin and wet warmth pressed against his lips.

Jason drank.

[drchucktingle]

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #4

here we are again talkin on camp damascus and unwrapping every little secret and hidden layer of this book. think of this time together like an old time ENGLISH CLASS where the dang teacher says 'well by THIS SYMBOLISM the author was actually commenting on how good chocolate milk is' only this time we get to talk on TINGLERS and your teacher is the buckaroo himself, chuck tingle.

as man name of chuck i have a lot of easter eggs in my books, and this post is just ONE OF MANY where we pull apart every layer. if you have a reading club for this book it might be a fun companion to trot through once you are all finished. if that is the case you should start with the first deconstructing damascus post. i will leave links to them all here IN ORDER

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #1

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #2

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #3

HOWEVER these deconstructing damascus posts SHOULD NOT BE READ UNLESS YOU ARE DONE WITH THE BOOK. there are heckin spoilers EVERYWHERE in these posts so do not peek at them until you are ready.

alright below this line the dang spoilers begin. BIG TIME SPOILER WARNING. lets trot

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #4: BIBLICAL CAPITALISM

we have taken lots of time to discuss the various layers of symbolism in this book, but for FINAL POST of deconstructing damascus i would like to talk about the literal layer, specifically ONE BIG THEME that weaves throughout the story of rose, saul, willow and kingdom of the pine.

that theme is CAPITALISM.

kingdom of the pine, the church in this story, is intentionally NOT THAT STRANGE in their beliefs. it would be very easy for me to write a book where the christian sect are revealed as some twisted monsters performing all kinds of dark rituals in the name of evil itself, but when the big reveal comes it is something much more HORRIFIC and unexpected.

kindgom of the pine members are not snarling, oozing, otherworldly, creatures. the members are just people, and their beliefs are horrifically STANDARD. kingdom of the pine worships CAPITALISM.

these church members believe in the traditional tenants of CHRISTIANITY along with the traditional tenants of BUSINESS. what makes them scary is that they whole heartedly believe that 'the ends justify the means'

lets start with prophet cobel, the founder of the church. his visions came during THE INDUSTREAL REVOLUTION, occuring when he was injured by a manufacturing machine and lost his hand. the coma from prophet cobels accident is where he received his message from god. he realized that, for a church to succeed, it needed to act like a BUSINESS.

many buckaroos have asked 'WHY is the church called kingdom of the pine?' and this is EXACTLY WHY. many churches are named for spiritual aspects. this sect could have easily been 'kingdom of the holy word' 'kingdom of the spirit' 'kingdom of HIS name' EXCEPT prophet cobel knew the importance of MATERIAL and CURRENCY and GOODS. he is not just worshipping JESUS, he is worshipping THE CROSS ITSELF. so 'the pine' in kingdom of the pine is symbolic of worshipping through a PRODUCT, in this case the little wooden cross that you might sell during a fundraiser. not kingdom of the son, the father, or the holy spirit, but kingdom of the PINE. THE WOOD ITSELF. THE PRODUCT.

by combining christianity and capitalism, prophet cobel created a monster, but not one that creeps through a dark swamp with sharp teeth and red eyes. he created something much more existentially dangerous AND not all that unheard of in reality. this isnt an imaginary monster that lurks under your bed. IT IS A MONSTER THAT IS ALREADY HERE.

capitalism is the answer for ANOTHER big question regarding camp damascus: why are the demons wearing red polos?

demons in this story are dressed like minimum wave workers at a big box story because THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT THEY ARE. yes they spend their time torturing unfortunate folks in their dungeon, but NOBODY IS FREE FROM THE CAPITALISTIC SYSTEM NOT EVEN ON OTHER TIMELINES LIKE HECK ITSELF. the demons are AT WORK. some buckaroos do not notice that kingdom of the pine counselors are always in green and white (the pine material GREEN and the holy spirit WHITE, like we talked on earlier). meanwhile demons are in RED because they are contracted out. THEY HAVE BEEN HIRED IN THEIR OWN WAY and when you consider the collars around their necks, THEY ARE NOT TREATED FAIRLY BY THEIR EMPLOYERS. THEY ARE CONTROLLED IN A SYSTEM OF THEIR OWN AND COMPELLED TO WORK.

this is why they have name tags. THEY ARE AT WORK.

this is why they are constantly smiling until the collars come off. THEY HAVE CUSTOMER SERVICE SMILES.

okay buds. thank you for reading the deconstructing damascus series it was very fun for me to go deep on this book for anyone who enjoys this kind of analysis. i hope it puts a little more joy into your trot, and now if someone says 'this part of camp damascus didnt make sense to me' you can said 'LETS TALK BUD'. i am very much looking forward to doing this again when my next horror novel BURY YOUR GAYS comes out. keep a dang eye out for that one.

i will end with one more thing that did not really fit into the other catagories.

question of: is there any meaning behind willow being a big wu tang fan?

you mean besides her being the crocodile (which has ticking clock in mouth in peter pan) so rhythm itself is a very important part of her character? (as shown in her steady clicking camera shutter and the steady beat of her musical preferences?)

WHY YES CHUCK BESIDES THAT.

well now that we've discussed the theme of INFANTILIZATION in deconstructing damascus part one, and how all the young people in kingdom of the pine are kept childlike as long as possible as the FOREVER CHILDREN of never never land, i will point you towards this iconic quote from the wu tang clans ODB at the 1998 grammy awards:

LOVE IS REAL thank you for reading buckaroos - chuck

[wito-chan-bla-bla]

This is a little bit about Satoru's parents

I know that no one has ever asked for this, but... here.

To somehow justify what is happening, I added a little “(Y/N)”

~

I know this is a fairly rare opinion, but…

What if Satoru's parents are normal?

There are many works where his parents are described as people who have never loved each other and who have an unhappy marriage, but if... if they really aren't?

I think of Satoru as an exact copy of his father, except that older Gojo has a more serious look and a more masculine expression. He was not born "the strongest", but he was born like the heir of the clan, and therefore from childhood was surrounded by intrigues, conspiracies and elders who tried to control him. Gojo was forced to learn everything (from techniques to economics), because otherwise his clan could be destroyed by other sorcerers. Gojo was forced to endure pressure and strict upbringing, constant advice from "people who know better how to act." As a result, Satoru's father grew up as a man with an unchanging face and no emotions, listening to the elders' words, but secretly despising them and hating them for constantly trying to pry into his affairs.

He was the one who would instill in his son a dislike for the elders. He would throw random phrases here and there while talking to his wife or to himself, but Satoru hears everything. "They might all be three times my age together, but I'm the head of the clan. If they think they can influence me because of my status, then they're wrong! " "Someday I'll retire, go crazy, and finally be able to throw hot tea in that idiot's face. He talks so much that I almost lost my ears at the last meeting." "If any of them even once tries to marry two relatives to get a "child with incredible strength," I'll just spit in everyone's face.""

Gojo would try to protect his son as much as possible from the pressure that was put on him as a child, but he still wouldn't be able to completely hide the cruel world of sorcerers from Satoru. However, he would also show his son that power decides everything, especially if this power can trample another person and turn them to dust under his feet.

In his spare moments, he would teach Satoru techniques and maybe even go to some festival with him, so that little Gojo would feel like a child at least a little. Otherwise, Gojo would be swamped with paperwork and forced to attend official meetings.

He would be the one who would invite you to the manor "for a cup of tea" as soon as he found out about the relationship. The man seemed intimidating and passive-aggressive, but once you get to know him better, you realize that your lover's father is not so bad, moreover, he is quite cute. Gojo would like to learn more about your relationship with his son, so that you can understand how much it is worth to break your hopes and warn you about the endless attempts on your life that are definitely waiting for you as soon as you decide to get even closer to Satoru.

(After several meetings with you, Satoru would be thrilled to tell you how another photo appeared on his father's desk: next to the photo of the clan head, his wife, and son, there was a separate one showing you holding the hand of your lover with a big smile.)

I think Satoru's mother is like a woman from some noble clan who is crazy enough to cross the elders' path, beautiful enough to make all the men turn to look at her, and tall enough to change a light bulb without a ladder. She and her husband would meet when Gojo was looking for a bride. (The man, then still a teenager, was simply not interested in a relationship because of how much paperwork was piled on his white-haired head.) Standing in front of many young girls, the clan heir would simply say something like, "Whichever of you wins will become my wife. I went to double-check the annual report." In the end, just five minutes later, in the middle of a field of groaning wizards, Satoru's mother one left, grinning, her kimono torn, but with a big, cheeky smile on her lips.

She was the one who would make Satoru what he is... that is, a spoiled and cheeky boy. She would spoil her son to the point where even her husband would have questions. "Can you stop giving him gifts just because he exists?! " "But he's so nice and cute, look at him! And he didn't do "anything". He learned a new technique!" "He learned the technique three months ago, and you still give him gifts!" In response, the woman would simply continue to hold her son to her and kiss his face.

She would open "the world of sweets" to Satoru. Yes, he actively started eating sweets only in high school, but before that, the woman constantly dragged him some goodies from the city. She would also steal her son from official meetings where the little kid simply has nothing to do, and go throw a "little party" in the city while boring men discuss their boring affairs.

She would accept you into the family even if you were only in a relationship with her son for one day. The woman is so tired of the monotony of living in a large clan that she would just drag you to go shopping every single day, taking advantage of the fact that she has an infinite amount of money due to her position as the wife of the clan head. She would definitely show a LOT of photos of her son as a child, and even the "the strongest" couldn't stop the woman from showing you Satoru in cute pajamas as some kind of animal sitting on the floor with a big plush toy and chewing on its paw.

Whenever you visited the clan to attend family dinners, Satoru would run with wild screams and wide-open arms to hug his parents. His mother would rush forward to jump on her son, and his father would just silently but lovingly slap him on the back or shoulder. They would not allow you to meet the elders once again, preferring to go to a restaurant in the city or even a picnic in the park, even if it is not as safe as in the clan territory.

They would be the happiest people once they knew that their son had found love. They would do anything for you, help you give advice during a fight, or just listen. They won't let you feel alone or forgotten, even when their son is on a mission in another country.

They don't care if you're a sorcerer from a great clan, just a sorcerer, or an ordinary person. They will love and protect you like Satoru does, because their son's favorite person is their favorite person.

(Just don't try to distract his father while working or try to steal his mother's food: it will end up very sad).

All in all, the Gojo clan is a dangerous and scary place. But if you do decide to become part of this family, the people closest to you will definitely support you.

(Just be careful when you get married to Satoru. His mother really wants to see her grandchildren).

[leviathans-watching]

Heyy, so this is probably a really weird request but would you mind doing Obey me bro's + datables (if not that's okay <333)) with a gn type one diabetic MC? Just like.. everyone watching MC give themself shots and stuff or when their blood sugars are high they get really agitated to the point where they feel like crying cause they don't want to deal with diabetes anymore? I've been having a difficult time recently with my own diabetes ^^'. If you don't want to do this then please don't feel like you have to!!!! <3333

mc with type 1 diabetes

includes: om! cast & gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .4 k | rated g | m.list

warnings: depictions of needles/injections, dicussions of uncurable conditions and the feelings that might arise from them, mentions of death

a/n: i do not have diabetes nor am i that knowledgeable about the condition but i did do research ofc. however, if i got anything wrong or just am misrepresenting the experience/condition please lmk as that is not my intention at all! i hope this helps & ty for requesting!! my inbox is open to chat, req, or leave feedback so come say hello

please reblog :)

“doesn’t it hurt?” mammon asks, watching with poorly concealed curiosity as you attach the needle to your pen. “giving yourself shots every day?”

“i mean, yeah,” you reply, “but over time you kind of get used to it so i don’t really mind it anymore.”

“why do you have to give yourself shots again?” luke leans forward, squinting at the needle. “don’t humans have pills or other forms of medicine?”

“yeah, but insulin, which is the medicine i take, breaks down in our stomachs so it has to be injected.” aware of everyone's eyes upon you, you ruck up your shirt slightly, pinching a spot on your abdomen. with practiced ease you give yourself the shot, a little amused that asmo, who’s a demon for crying out loud, is too squeamish to watch. once you’re done, you remove the needle from the pen.

“that was it?” satan breaks the silence.

“i told you guys, i’m pretty used to it. but not everything about diabetes is that easy.” with a sigh you remember all of the times your sugar levels had reached worrying highs and lows and the frustration you often feel for having to deal with such a condition. “there’s no cure, and if i’m not careful, one mistake can be really dangerous. it’s honestly tiring to live with.”

“it’s not fair,” leviathan says suddenly. “that you have to live with it.”

you give him a wry, tired smile. “living with chronic issues or autoimmune conditions often aren’t. believe me, i completely agree with you.”

“is there anything we can do to help?” diavolo asks, a genuine worry lining his face. you’re touched that they all care so much.

“i mean, i’m pretty used to managing it on my own,” you begin, but seeing how they deflate hurriedly continue, “but sometimes i need a workout buddy because i get tired or it can be helpful for reminders to watch my bloodsugar or what i eat. but not too many though,” you add, knowing otherwise you’d be swamped in overwhelming concern.

“you should shows us what to do if something bad were to happen,” lucifer says seriously. “that way we know how to help.”

“that’s a good idea,” you reply. “thank you all for your support and care. it really means a lot to me.”

“well, duh!” mammon crows. “we love ya, mc, and want to make sure you’re safe and healthy.”

“and happy,” belphie adds. “so if you’re upset of feeling down i’m always there to listen.”

“thanks guys,” you say warmly. how’d you get so lucky to have such great people around you?

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[everydayyoulovemeless]

I am in dire need of a lone wanderer & companions reaction to the dunwich building and the krivbeknih.

Fo3 Companions Reactions to the Dunwich Building and the Krivbeknih

➼ Word Count » 0.9k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Platonic/Romantic

Charon doesn’t have any real opinion on the book itself other than it makes him feel incredibly uneasy. If it were up to him, he’d have it destroyed. There’s nothing good that could come out of an occult item such as this, and selling it for a profit just doesn’t sit right with him. The Dunwich Building doesn’t make him feel any greater, he’s just happy to be able to drop the book off and leave. Although, when you do place it on the altar, he gets burnt along with the rest of the ghouls in the building. It's not as bad, just a few scorch marks, but it still stings him.

The entire idea of the book being able to control people makes Clover uncomfortable, but as long as it's in your hands, she won't voice her opinions. Surely you know what you're doing, and she puts her full trust in you. If you mention anything about selling it to Obidiah, though, she'll panic a bit and beg you not to. How can you be so sure about this? Maybe you should think it over? On the flip side, however, she doesn't want you to take it to the altar either. I mean, why not just keep it for yourself? Control the swamp folk however you see fit? She would much rather it be in your hands than some old man anyway, and you're not so bad of an owner to her. So why not?

Star Paladin Cross thinks it's an abomination that should be terminated immediately. What kind of person would need something like this anyway? It's despicable, and she expects you to take it to the Dunwich building to have it destroyed instantly. In fact, she feels so strongly about it that if you were to sell it to Obidiah, she'd pull her sledgehammer out and ask you to reconsider. When the two of you finally find time to go down to the altar, she'll feel incredibly relieved. She finds the building itself to be odd, but at the end of the day, she's a realist who tries to explain all the paranormal instances with logical conclusions.

Jericho hated going down into the swamp folks' ritual site just to grab some book and would snatch it out of your hands to go sell it off so that the two of you could make some money out of your troubles. I mean, seriously, why go all the way down in some lousy cave for something you just plan on destroying? No, thank you. He's selling it. He also refuses to go anywhere near the Dunwich building. There have been a lot of stories he's heard from other raiders over the years, but none have ever been as chilling as the ones surrounding that place. He just wants to snag some caps out of it and leave.

Butch will act all jittery the entire time you spend around the Krivbeknih. It's unnatural, and he thinks that the two of you should put it back instead of carrying it around. What if it makes you both a target? Who else wants this book? He doesn't want any kind of threat following you guys around and would beg to just get rid of it. He genuinely couldn't care less about what you do with it as long as you discard it somehow. However, taking him to the Dunwich building to have the book burnt doesn't make him feel much better. He'll have his gun unholstered the entire time and will aim it at anything that moves, even his own shadow. He never wants to look back on this experience and doesn't want to involve himself with any cults for a long time to come.

Fawkes finds the book and religious aspects intriguing and might ask to study them a bit further before either of you do anything. Things like these don't ever lead to anything good, he's aware, but he also finds knowledge to be important when making decisions on such a broad scale. Who knows, maybe what he learns while looking into the book might help the two of you out later on down the line. Of course, at the end of the day, he thinks it's better to destroy it than to sell it off. The idea that someone could have complete control over an entire race of people is sickening to him, and he'd hate for anyone to feel any kind of entrapment. Fawkes isn't afraid of the paranormal, in fact, he finds it dreadfully interesting, and would probably spend way more time than necessary in the Dunwich building.

RL-3 thinks the swamp folk are disgraces to America, and would try to burn the Krivbeknih himself once you both obtain it. Honestly, it's embarrassing to know that such scoundrels are living in the States as we speak. That being said, he would scold you if you went and sold it to Obidiah. Have you not learned anything in your training? These kinds of behaviors are not to be tolerated. Besides, the wasteland could use a little community service, and the Dunwich building needs to be cleared.

Dogmeat's fur stands on end whenever you take it out of your bag. There's a certain aura around it that he can sense and it makes him anxious. He'll growl and bark until you finally put it back into your inventory. The Dunwich building isn't much better. He's much less on edge, but there'll be moments when he seemingly stares at nothing and barks uncontrollably. It's unsettling, to say the least.

[whiskey-bumblebee]

what if it was just a thursday?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1059

The plates are in the dishwasher, the oven is cooling down, and a fire is crackling away in the fireplace, radiating heat throughout the house. Your bare feet sink into the plush Oushak rug, and you relish the soft feeling of it. There are two mugs on the coffee table; your favourite and Hotch's favourite. Yours is a vintage one, something from the 70s with an orange floral pattern, kitsch but cute. Aaron's is utilitarian, a handmade brown mug with a little bit of texture. You vaguely remembered buying it at a farmer's market a few years ago, with a matching ashtray and spice canister.

You'd spent the afternoon gardening: sowing some poppy seeds along the treeline, planting broccoli and potatoes in the hopes that you could harvest them in the spring. Asparagus was Aaron's favourite, but someone at the plant barn had told you it might take two or three years to mature. You were sure that you'd forget about it if it was in the ground for that long.

"What's on your mind?" Aaron said softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"Asparagus," You said dreamily. "I was thinking of growing some, but it takes forever."

"How was your day?" He asked. "Aside from the gardening."

"It was okay. I wish the weather was nicer," You sighed. "But no complaints. Things aren't too busy at work, which is good."

You reach slightly to intertwine your fingers with his, resting your hands over your shoulder. A contented smile comes over your face and you close your eyes to soak in the moment.

"How was yours?" You look over at him, and his heart sinks. There's an innocence in your eyes that's long since left his own. It's one of the things he loves about you, but it's something he's terrified might disappear.

"Do you really want to know?"

You nod. "I can take it."

He rests the side of his head against your own.

"JJ has been swamped, so we all pitched in for a few hours to sort through the cases. There were something like two hundred cases that have come over her desk in the past week-" Hotch pauses to sigh, running his fingers over his eyebrows.

"Whatever the Bureau is paying her, it's not enough. A lot of the time they'll include details, autopsy reports, photos. I can't imagine how much of it gets stuck in her head. So many of them are kids, or wives, or someone's father, someone's best friend."

"I'm sorry," You said quietly. "That's really hard."

You feel him shrug, rather than seeing it.

"Makes me really appreciate coming home to you," He murmured. "Makes me wish I could sit here and tell you about selling insurance."

You huff a laugh, and lean further into him. "I love you as you are."

"Yeah," He breathes. "I love you too. I wish it could just be a Thursday. No blood and guts, just a Thursday."

There's a comfortable silence for a few moments, both of you staring at the fireplace, the spontaneous patterns of the flames, occasional puffs of smoke.

You swing a leg over his lap, facing him, and tuck your head into his neck, breathing in the smell of his aftershave. He rests one large hand in the back pocket of your jeans, and wraps his other arm around your back, his hand landing between your shoulderblades, stroking back and forth. Even exhausted, he's protective

"Might fall asleep," He whispers.

"Me too," You reply, your warm exhale momentarily lifting the collar of his t-shirt.

"So warm," he mumbles. "I love you."

"We could get a dog," You say quietly. "People who celebrate Thursdays tend to have dogs."

"You think so?"

You press a chaste kiss to his neck. "Yeah."

"How about we start with a cat?"

"Really?" Your voice picks up slightly, and you raise your head to look at Aaron. He smoothes a hand over the back of your head, gently encouraging your face back into the crook of his neck.

"We could go to the shelter this weekend."

You flip through your mental rolodex of the different types of cat, picturing each one in the space you shared with your partner.

Maybe an older cat, already house trained, who liked a quieter house. Someone to keep you company while Aaron was away.

____

Sure enough, you and Aaron fell asleep on the couch, Aaron waking up a few hours later and walking you to bed. The fire had burnt itself out, and the tea had gone cold, but you could leave it until morning.

The weekend rolled around and you walked hand in hand through the animal shelter.

"This one's named Home Depot," He pointed out, a small smile on his face. "Do we want a lady cat or a gentleman cat?"

"I don't mind," You mused, peeking into each enclosure.

"Aaron," You said slowly, pulling gently at his elbow. "This one's named Jude, like Hey Jude."

"Jude's been here a while, since she's one of our older cats. She's a sweetheart," The volunteer offered.

"How old is she?"

"She's seven."

"Can I pick her up?"

The volunteer nodded enthusiastically. "She loves cuddles."

You picked up the cat, happy to find that she seemed to be in good health. A nice weight, plenty of fluff, good teeth.

"Does she have any health conditions?" You asked.

The volunteer shook their head. "Not that we know of. As she gets older, she might get a bit stiff in her joints, but for now she seems well."

"Hi sweetheart," Aaron said softly, thumbing the scruff under her chin. "Do you like the look of us?"

She keened, pressing her head up into his hands to meet his touch.

"She's just like me," You smiled.

"Yeah?" Aaron said, smiling at you. You knew what he was asking, and you nodded.

Aaron looked over at the volunteer. "Can we bring her home?"

They smiled. "Absolutely. You'll just need to sign a few things, pay the adoption fee. Then we can give you a bag of food, her bed, her collar... I think that's it. Oh! We could send you home with a toy, if you like, but she hasn't been super playful while she's been here."

"Thank you," You said tenderly. "So much. For keeping her safe until we could meet her."

[2dmenenthusiast]

Last Night on Earth Final Part

(Ethan Winters x Gn!Reader)

yo yo yoooo I have nothing to say other than this was a painful chapter to write hahahaha :) But thank you to everyone who has liked, commented, and reblogged this fic, it means the world to me, and I can't wait to write the next installment!

ALSO the title of this fic was based on this song

Warnings/other info: none I can think of!

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9 Final

The hospital was so clean it almost made you uncomfortable. All you’ve known the past few years was the swamp and mold everywhere, so being somewhere this neat and tidy was… something you weren’t quite used to. You were used to you being this clean. When you first arrived, a couple lovely nurses took you away and scrubbed you raw, and then threw away your clothes. Not that it was much of a loss. They had been torn beyond repair, and were most likely covered in more contaminants than you could count. But, you were given a BSAA logo hoodie and some comfy sweatpants, so it was really a win in your book.

After they ran some EKG’s and a few other tests you couldn’t remember the name of, you were deemed healthy. Now, you were just waiting for the labs to come back with an explanation for your high regeneration. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared of what the results might be. You knew you weren’t infected anymore, but the idea of the virus still lingering inside you, it wasn’t exactly a comforting thought. Especially when you knew so little of what it actually was.

Your leg bounced impatiently on the edge of the hospital bed, fingers fidgeting and a sigh leaving you for the umpteenth time. The doctors wouldn’t let you leave your room for whatever reason, and you were getting increasingly impatient. You had received no word about Zoe or Ethan, your only knowledge being that they were stable, and that was it. A voice in your head was telling you to just say ‘fuck it’ and go looking for them, anyway. But, you felt like you were on thin enough ice as it was.

When the door opened, you shot up off the bed and held your breath, hoping to see one of the two people you desperately wanted to see. But when Chris’s large frame came through the door, you sighed and collapsed back onto the bed.

He chuckled. “What? Not happy to see me?”

You sighed, shaking your head, “It’s not that. I’ve been waiting in this room for hours and they still won't let me leave.”

“Well, when the labs come back, I’m sure they’ll let you see your sister.”

You perked up at the mention of her. “Is she alright?”

He sat in the chair next to the bed and pulled it up so he was closer to you. “Yeah. Vitals are stable, she was given the vaccine and the virus seems to have cleared out of her system.”

You sighed in relief. “Good. Hopefully we can put this all behind us soon.”

Silence blanketed the room for a moment as you tried to find the courage to bring up what you wanted to ask next, but you found yourself swallowing down the lump in your throat and just coming out with it.

“Um… How’s Ethan? And Mia?”

Chris tensed, and while it was a small gesture, you still noticed it.

“Mia’s good. Same as your sister, she’s been given the vaccine and the infection cleared out. As for Ethan, he’s… okay. He’s healthy and awake, responding correctly. But, there’s a few things the doctors and I are concerned about.”

You moved to the edge of the bed. “What is it? He’s gonna be okay, right?”

“For the most part, yes. But I can’t tell you the rest. It’s classified.”

Your eyes narrowed. “‘Classified?’ You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I’m serious. Only the doctors, Mia, and I know—”

“Oh, Mia gets to know. The woman who was working for a terrorist organization. That Mia? Yeah, makes perfect sense.”

“She’s his wife. It’s a matter of safety.”

“Safety?! So- So, what you're telling me is that you, her, and a whole bunch of other people get to know, but the man whose safety you’re concerned about doesn’t?!”

“You don’t understand. And it’s none of your concern, either.”

“Bullshit! Ethan and I fought like hell together to get out of that hellhole, I have a right to know what’s going on with him.”

“You’re lucky I even told you we had concerns in the first place! Do you know how much shit I could get for disclosing any amount of information to you?”

“Oh, right. Wouldn’t want me getting you in trouble or anything with fucking Umbrella. Christ.”

The door squeaked open, and a blonde nurse popped her head in.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but if the noise continues, I’m going to have to ask you to step out, sir. You’re causing stress for the patient.”

You waved her off just as Chris went to speak.

“It’s okay. It won’t happen again, sorry.”

She gave you a tight-lipped smile and closed the door, and you sighed once she left, body deflating.

“Look, I don’t wanna fight with you. All I’ve done is fight for the past however fucking long and I’m tired of fighting.”

Chris almost looked guilty, not quite hanging his head, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes for a moment.

“I know. I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

“S’not your fault. Fuckin’ red tape bullshit.”

He hummed in agreement, and the silence that followed made your mind spin in circles. What could possibly be wrong with Ethan? You knew it had something to do with the virus, but what exactly? Was it incurable? Was he too far along that any dose of the vaccine would kill him? You could feel your chest tighten with each anxiety ridden thought, and you were grateful when Chris suddenly cleared his throat to get your attention.

“I um, I have something for you.” He reached behind his back and pulled out a photo frame, the back of it facing you.

When you took it from him and flipped it over, your breath stuttered in your chest and your heart stirred. It was an older photo, your parents sitting on the couch while you and Lucas sat in between them and Zoe rested on your father’s lap. This was only a few months after they adopted you. Your mother insisted on getting an updated photo of the family, considering its newest addition. You had never experienced more love and compassion in your life than when you grew up with them, and the memory made your chest warm.

You finally realized you were crying when a tear hit the glass, and you quickly sniffled and wiped at your eyes. “Shit. I’m sorry. I…” Looking up at Chris, you smiled. “Thank you for this.”

"It's the least I could do."

He stood from his seat, making for his departure from your room, when you stood up as well and grabbed his arm.

"Hey." He turned towards you. "Thank you for what you did for me, letting me go after Lucas. I won't forget it."

Chris scoffed, the sound bordering on a chuckle. "Not like you gave me much of a choice."

You huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, I guess I didn't."

Before he could leave, one of the Doctors stepped into the room, adjusting the glasses atop his bumped nose.

"Up on your feet, I see. You feeling better?"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "I've been up on my feet and ready to get out of this place hours ago. You guys sure took your time."

"Lots of tests to run. I'm sure you can understand."

With a shrug of your shoulders, you sat down on the bed again. "So? What's the diagnosis?"

"Well," he cleared his throat, flipping through your chart. "Your vitals are functioning normally, but we did find something interesting, of course."

"Regarding my, like, ridiculously fast healing?"

“Yes. Let's put it this way." He set the chart on the bed. “Your infection was more advanced than we originally thought. When you died, it sent the virus into overdrive and started your heart back up, as well as healed any previous injuries you had. You were about to reach the final stages of infection when you got the vaccine, which is why it didn’t kill you, but it didn’t get rid of all of the mold infected cells in your body. “

“So… I’m not gonna end up like my parents, right?”

“No. The vaccine and the antibodies are preventing that. And while you still have residual traces of the E-Series inside of you, you won’t have to worry about being controlled like your family either.”

You slowly let the information sink in, and you found that even with a medical explanation for all this nonsense, it still didn’t make sense.

“What about Zoe? She was as exposed to the mold as I was.”

“It’s completely out of her system. We believe that your death caused an excess of mold infected cells to form to revive you. You were lucky to get the vaccine when you did, or else you would’ve been completely infected.”

You forgot Chris was in the room until he suddenly spoke up.

“So they’re okay? No risk of suddenly growing an extra limb or something, right?”

The doctor chuckled and shook his head. “Not likely, no. Just make sure to get your annual vaccination and you should be fine. But, please remember that you’re not invincible. A shot to the head will still kill you, super soldier.”

You gave a mock salute with your two fingers. “You got it, Doc.”

He was halfway out the door when he turned his head back towards you. “Oh, and you’re free to visit your sister and friend if you would like.”

Your eyes lit up, practically jumping off the bed. When you looked back at Chris to make sure it was okay, he just gave you a nod with a small smile. With a wide grin, you practically burst out of the room and almost knocked down a nurse or two whilst you were rushing to your sister’s room. It took less than a minute to find her room, and while you had been waiting hours to see her, you couldn’t help but stand there, clenching your fists anxiously as you swayed back and forth on your feet. But it only lasted for a moment, and soon you were opening the door and locking eyes with Zoe.

“Holy shit,” she breathed.

You smiled. “Nice to see you, too.”

She laughed and stood from the bed, and you met her open arms with a tight hug. Your eyes squeezed shut, holding her like you haven’t seen her in years. It certainly felt that way. Just hours ago, you thought she was going to die from Evie’s weird, mind power bullshit, and now she was here, standing and talking and smiling. She was okay.

 When your eyes started to sting, you pulled away before you could start crying like a baby in front of your little sister. When you got a good look at her, your eyes widened.

“Oh wow, your hair!”

She looked away with a shy grin.

“Yeah, a little parting gift from Evie,” she said, running her hand through her short, white hair.

You stepped back and crossed your arms over your chest, lips pursing as you examined her.

“I don’t know. I think it suits you.”

She scoffed. “Oh. shut up.”

“I’m serious!”

Your laughter bounced off of each other’s, and fuck, it felt so good to feel this again. To just be vulnerable and laugh and not have to worry about how you’re going to survive the next day. If only your parents were there to experience this with you.

You gestured to the bed, and you both sat down.

“So,” you began,“where do we go after this?”

She sighed, as if the weight of the question physically affected her. “I don’t even know how to begin to think about that. Been so focussed on survivin’ all this shit, I…” She grabbed your hand and squeezed it. “As long as we stick together, I don’t care where we go. Hell, we can move to fuckin’ California if you wanted to.”

You grimaced. “Eugh. I’ll pass, thanks.”

She pinched your arm and you punched her leg, falling into a fit of giggles when the door opened. You groaned, irritated that your time with your sister was being interrupted, and turned to whatever sorry soul that walked in.

“Can’t you hear we’re busy—”

The words died in your throat when your eyes locked on a pair of brown ones staring right back at you, and the air in your lungs vanished with a shuddered breath.

“Ethan.”

He let out a heavy breath, shifting on his feet as he took you in.

“Hey.”

Standing from the bed, you approached Ethan with slow, calm steps, despite everything in your body screaming at you to barrel into his arms and cling to him like he was a buoy in a vast ocean. You barely recognized him without the dirt and grime on his face. He looked good, slight stubble on his face and a scar on his nose.

You always dug guys with scars.

Raising your fist, you connected it with Ethan’s shoulder.

“‘Hey?’ I’ve been worried sick about you and all you have to say to me is ‘Hey’?”

Ethan chuckled and rubbed his shoulder. “You want me to ask you how your day’s going?”

You muttered for him to shut up before grabbing his arm and pulling him towards you, wrapping him in a tight hug that he immediately reciprocated. He squeezed you against his front, hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, and you closed your eyes as the warmth of his embrace enveloped you. As far as you were concerned, you never wanted to forget what this felt like. How his arms perfectly fit around you, how his front felt pressed up against yours.

Too bad it couldn’t last longer.

Zoe cleared her throat behind you. “I hope I’m not interrupting your quality time in my room.”

You chuckled and pulled away from him, but the warm hand Ethan kept on your back sent tingles shooting down your spine.

“Zoe. You’re looking well,” he said.

Your sister shrugged. “All thanks to you both.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t do anything. You had to endure our brother’s annoying ramblings when he kidnapped you and Mia.”

She let out a dry laugh, idly playing with a frayed corner of the blanket and suddenly avoiding your gaze.

“Lucas… is he…?”

“Dead. For good this time. I’ll save you all the gory details.”

You could almost feel the relief coming off of Ethan when you confirmed your brother’s death, his lungs releasing a deep sigh. Zoe almost looked disappointed, and if you were honest, you empathize with her. Lucas was barely pleasant even before Eveline came alone, but he was still your brother. Still your family. Even if he was a fucking psychopath.

Ethan cleared his throat, catching yours and Zoe’s attention.

“Uh, do you mind if I steal you for a second?”

You looked to Zoe, and she nodded, giving you the okay. When you relayed the same gesture to Ethan, he gave your sister a quick smile and led you out of her room, softly closing the door behind him. The quiet of the hallway suddenly felt overwhelming, because now you were left with every little thought and feeling you had about Ethan and his stupid, handsome face and every damn emotion felt like it was ready to come spilling out of you at any second.

Ethan Winters, you bastard.

You leaned against the wall opposite your sister’s room, sunlight spilling in through the window behind you. As soon as you looked at the man in front of you, your heart jumped into your throat and it was suddenly hard to breathe.

Fuck this. You hate this. 

“So—”

You held up your hand. “Don’t—! I… Just give me a second because if you start talking, everything you say is gonna go through one ear and right out the other because the only thing on my mind right now is certainly not appropriate for our current setting.”

His eyes widened, surprised by your boldness, but then the asshole smirked and you immediately wanted to slap it off of his face.

“Uh-huh… Interesting.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

He barked out a laugh, the sound echoing off the white walls of the facility, and you hated how much you liked it.

“Ethan, I swear to christ—”

You watched as he closed the distance in just a few strides, fingers tracing over your jaw before cupping your face and fitting his lips against yours. You sighed through your nose and brought your hands to his chest, sliding them up until they rested at the base of his neck. It wasn’t a deep or intense kiss, but it was more than enough to have you weak in the knees and craving something more.

He pulled away much too soon for your liking and placed his hand on top of one of your own, giving it a squeeze. His gentle smile sent your heart aflutter, and you almost felt embarrassed of how smitten you probably looked. Like some dumb, lovesick teenager.

“You scared the hell out of me, you know. Going after your brother like that. I knew you would be okay, because somehow you always are, but…”

You gently pushed against his chest to create some distance between you and gestured to yourself. “Hey, look at me. I’m right as rain.”

If the rain had some weird mutation.

Ethan’s lips formed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and you could still see some leftover doubt in his expression.

“Hey.” You took his hand again. “You just snogged me in the hallway of a hospital. I’m more okay than I’ve ever been.”

He laughed and pulled you forward, kissing your forehead.

“I’ll make sure to kiss you in hospitals more often if that’s what you’re into.”

Eyes widening, you quickly pulled away and searched his face. You knew it was just a silly joke, but the way he said it made it sound like there was a future between you two. Like he would be around to kiss you and hold you whenever you wanted. But you knew that couldn’t happen. Because you barely had the rest of your life figured out and he had a fucking wife. A wife he went through absolute hell to find, and one you garnered zero sympathy for. Would he really waste all that effort he went through to be with you?

No. That’s next level delusional, and you were nothing if not a realist.

“What’s wrong?”

You blinked, realizing you hadn’t spoken for a moment, and cleared your throat as you shook your head. “Nothing. Um… how’s Mia?” Her name tasted bitter on your tongue, but you swallowed down your disdain and tried not to show it on your face.

“Oh, uh, she’s good. Doctors checked her out and she’s ready to go home.”

The smile on your face was forced, and it made your cheeks hurt. “That’s good! I’m glad she’s okay.”

Nothing was said between you for a moment, and you crossed your arms uncomfortably over your chest, suddenly felt dirty thinking about the kiss you shared with Ethan only moments ago. No, you didn’t like Mia. But even still, a part of you felt awful for even thinking about him like that, let alone acting on those feelings.

No shit. It’s her husband, for fuck’s sake.

You sighed. “Ethan, I—”

“Well I’ll be damned.”

Your head turned in the direction of the voice, smiling when you saw your Uncle Joe coming down the hallway towards you. All stressful thoughts were momentarily abandoned as you met him in the middle and leaned into his open arms, his tight hug practically crushing your ribs whilst he lifted you onto your tippy toes.

“Jesus, kid, how long’s it been?”

It gradually became harder to breathe in his embrace, and you took in a deep breath when he finally let you go. Joe’s always been tough, but somewhere in the years you haven’t seen him, you must’ve forgotten just how tough.

“Too long. I’m really glad you’re here.” Turning black to Ethan, you grabbed his hand and brought him forward to stand next to you. “This is Ethan. He helped us.”

He held out his hand, and Joe clapped his own palm against his before giving it a firm shake. You watched Ethan’s face as he winced, and couldn’t help but suppress a chuckle.

“Thank you, son. I really appreciate what you did for my family.”

Ethan gestured his head towards you. “If anything, they helped me. I would’ve been screwed if I hadn’t run into them.”

“Yeah. Tough sonuvabitch, ain’t they?” Joe chuckled. 

You rolled your eyes, but chose to accept the compliment anyway. After everything, you deserved a little praise. But then your mind returned to the previous conversation you were having with Ethan, and your lips turned downwards. 

“Hey, Unc, um… Could you give Ethan and I just a minute?”

Joe looked between you for a moment, lips disappearing under his beard as he gave you a small grin.

“Sure thing, kid. I’ll go visit with your sister.”

You said your thanks as he walked away and then sighed. Ethan’s expression was one of concern when he turned back to you, and you wished he wouldn’t look at you like that. You didn’t want to have this conversation, but this might be the last time you see him. The thought made your heart crumble.

But, the truth was… well, it was certainly a bitter pill to swallow. Something between you two couldn’t happen. As much as you wanted it to. He had obligations, a wife, a life far away from you that never had you in it to begin with. It was by dumb, stupid fucking chance that Ethan ended up in your life at all, and maybe under different circumstances, things could’ve worked out. But not now. Not like this.

“Everything okay?”

Ethan’s voice brought you back to earth, and you gave him a tight lipped smile.

“As okay as I can be.”

He didn’t seem satisfied with the answer, and when he took a step towards you, you took one back.

Fuck, this hurts.

“Hey—”

“Ethan, I—” you sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I’ve never met anyone in my life like you, you know. I probably never will. So… When you go back to whatever life you had before you were roped into this fucked up mess, I want you to remember me. ‘Cus I will certainly remember you.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… fuck.”

When he moved towards you again, you didn’t try to escape him, keeping your arms tightly wrapped around yourself. He muttered your name, and the sound of it softly tumbling from his lips was almost your breaking point. You swallow thickly, struggling to meet his eyes.

“I have lost so many people that I cared about. And I’ve learned to deal with it and move on because that’s what I have to do. But then… then you just fucking crash into my life and make me care about you. And I have to go through the same shit all over again.”

It hurt, pouring yourself out at his feet like this. But you had to get it out, because if you didn’t, it was just going to build and build and build until you couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. But, you wondered if suppressing it would’ve hurt less than just spewing out all your feelings.

He shook his head. “What? You’re not losing me.”

“What do you think this is, Ethan? That you’re gonna leave your wife, never go back to California, and run away with me while I try to figure my life out? That you’re gonna be patient with me through the nightmares and the pain?”

“We haven’t even talked about this! You’re acting like everything is gonna go a certain way when you don’t know that.”

“It can’t be any other way!”

Your voice echoed down the hallway, and you cleared your throat to try and regain some sense of control over your emotions.

“You have obligations, and I’m not gonna be the one holding you back from them.”

Turning to walk away felt more painful than when your brother smashed your head open, and you clenched your jaw tightly as you willed yourself not to cry. But, the telltale burning of your eyes proved you to be unsuccessful.

“What if it was my choice?”

You stopped in your tracks, turning your head.

“What?”

He started walking. “What if it’s my choice? To leave. To be with you. What if that’s what I want?”

Every word that came out of his mouth was like shrapnel to your heart. You wanted that life. You wanted it so fucking bad it hurt.

So why couldn’t you have it?

Because this was reality. A fucked up, shitty reality. And you couldn’t have everything you wanted.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” He gripped your arm, turning you to face him. “I’m serious. I’m serious about you, about how I feel. I know you feel the same.”

God you did. More than he knew. You think you liked him too much if you were being honest. Which is why it hurt all the more when you swallowed down every confession you wanted to throw at him, and said something completely different instead.

“Go to Mia. She needs you.”

“Do you still love your wife?”

That seemed to stop him in his tracks, because he was suddenly speechless as he opened his mouth and tried to search for the right words. Ones that wouldn’t hurt you. His silence did enough of a job of it, though.

You placed your hand on his chest, feeling his racing heart beneath it.

The words were painful to say, and you wished you could take them back. Because god, the look on Ethan’s face when you said them might’ve been one of the most painful things you’ve ever seen. 

When you went to pull your hand away, Ethan captured it faster than you could blink and yanked you into his chest, crashing his mouth down onto yours. You inhaled sharply, his hands cradling your face with a gentleness that contrasted with the roughness of his lips. His thumbs on your cheeks caught your rogue tears. It felt like he was breathing you in, committing you to memory with each bruising kiss that sent your brain spiraling and your heart into overdrive. 

You clutched his shirt tightly in your hands, and when he finally pulled away with a gasp, you didn’t want to let go. Because this was it. This was probably going to be the last time you’d ever see him again, and the fact was absolutely crushing. Like your heart had been ripped out of your chest and smashed on the ground.

“Hey.” You gazed up at him, watching as he searched his pockets before grabbing a pen that he probably nabbed from a doctor.

“Turning to a life of crime already?” you joked.

He smiled, and damn if it didn’t make your heart stutter. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, clicking the pen before dragging the ball point across the back of your hand. His number.

“Ethan—”

“You said to remember you. I don’t want my only memories of you to be of us fighting for our lives. We’ll keep in touch, I promise.”

With a sad smile, you nodded, despite the doubt you felt in the pit of your stomach. It was better than nothing, and it was all you could ask for. With one last hug, you willed your feet to begin moving in the opposite direction, and it took everything in you not to turn around and give him one last glance. Because if you did, you’d run right back into his arms again, and you couldn’t do that to him. Couldn’t do that to you.

Shit. You didn’t think it would hurt this much. Thank god you were turned away from him, because you couldn’t stop the tears from rushing down your face. Your footsteps sped up into a light jog until you made it back to your room, shutting the door behind you as calmly as you could before the facade broke. Your back pressed against the door, and you choked on a sob whilst you slid down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest.

For the longest time, you thought growing close to anyone would be impossible. After the constant abuse you suffered in foster homes, and the loss of your friends in the field, you closed yourself off, only letting your family see a little behind the stone walls you took so long to build. And you were comfortable that way. Despite it being a lonely life, you never gave anyone the opportunity to hurt you ever again.

And then Ethan Winters came and smashed your walls down with a fucking wrecking ball.

You couldn’t describe it, but there was something about him that was just so inviting. Captivating. Maybe it was his kind eyes, or the way he spoke to you with assuredness and respect. Maybe it was something entirely different.

You wouldn’t call it love. You’ve known him for all of two days. But… it was certainly longing. A deep ache to fill the lonely void you’ve lived with for so long. Maybe it wasn’t even real. Maybe you’re just so desperate for companionship that you latched onto Ethan like a last resort.

But if that was the case, then why did it hurt so fucking much?

You gasped when there was suddenly a knock on the door, scrambling to your feet and furiously wiping at your eyes. It didn’t matter, the red rings around your eyes were a dead giveaway.

“Just a second.”

You cursed yourself in your head for how your voice trembled, clenching your fists so hard you formed small crescent shapes in your palms.

“Everything okay?”

Chris. It was just Chris.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you hesitantly put your hand on the doorknob and slowly opened the door. He smiled when he saw you, but it immediately dropped when he got a good look at your face.

Like you said, a dead giveaway.

“What’s wrong? Something happen with your sister?”

You shook your head, opening the door wider so he could enter the room. “No, nothing like that. Just some other stuff. I… don’t really wanna talk about it.”

Chris nodded, respecting your boundaries, which you were more than grateful for.

“Alright. I wanted to discuss some things with you, if that’s okay.” He gestured to the bed, and you sat down, him taking his place next to you. “I finished up my report on the mission and the BSAA just got back to me. They were impressed with your performance.”

You smiled, trying to mask the aching of your heart as you pointed both thumbs towards yourself.

“Super soldier, remember?”

He chuckled, and the sound comforted you in a small way.

“What would you think about joining up?”

Your brows shot up. “I’m sorry, you wanna recruit me?”

“You’re good on the field, can handle yourself in a fight. You’re a decent sniper too, right? You were a bit reckless on the mission, but your fast healing made up for it. If you were to join, though, you’d have to make sure not to pull stunts like that again.”

“You say that like I’m considering it.”

“Are you?”

You paused, looking down at your feet that dangled a few inches from the floor. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about joining the fight again. It was all you knew, and you were damn good at it. You just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Of course, what other options were there? Live a boring, normal life, working a nine to five? It sounded like hell. But, you had to think about Zoe first. Because wherever she went, you went, too. Ultimately, you were leaving the decision up to her.

“Let me talk to Zoe first?”

“You should do it.”

You practically jumped off the bed at the sound of her voice, snapping your head in her direction to see her leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest.

“When the hell did you get here?”

She shrugged. “Few minutes ago. I heard enough of your conversation, though.”

She came forward, sitting on the other side of you and effectively sandwiching you between her and Chris.

“You should join. I know it’s what you want. And I can take care of myself while you’re off killin’ god knows what.”

You faced your body towards her. “You’re not worried?”

She scoffed. “Please. You took shrapnel to your leg, fought like hell the past three years to get us out, and you’re still here. Alive. If anything, I’m worried about the sorry bastards that are unlucky enough to come toe to toe with you.”

You smiled at your sister’s praise, glad she believed in you more than you believe in yourself.

“It won’t just be people I’ll be fightin’, Zo. The BSAA deals with bioweapons. As in the shit we were facing those said three years.”

She shrugged. “So? Means you got experience, then. Like I said, unlucky, sorry bastards.”

Shaking your head, you wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into your side. “Alright, shithead.” You pinched her arm, and she pulled away to smack your leg.

With a chuckle, you turned back to Chris, and noticed him watching you with expecting eyes. You sighed, and like that, your decision was made.

“Where do I sign?”

The pack on your shoulder weighed heavy, causing you to slump on one side as you lightly kicked the suitcase at your feet. You had woken up at the ass crack of dawn to get to the airport on time, and after a warm shower and the excessively long cab drive, you were still an hour early.

3 weeks later

Where the fuck is he?

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you quickly fished it out to see a text from your sister.

You quickly typed up a response, fingers flying over the keyboard.

-6:15 Zoe:

Get there safe?

You smiled at that, glad she was feeling at home. You both had bought a small, two bedroom apartment somewhere just outside of New Orleans, and it was nice enough. Of course, when you brought up the idea of leaving Louisiana, Zoe shut that idea down with a firm “Hell no,” which was exactly what you were expecting. After all that’s happened, this place was still home to you, and you weren’t planning on leaving.

-6:15 You:

Yeah. Way too early for this shit.

-6:16 Zoe:

You’ll live. Apartment is looking nice.

After the shitshow ended, the BSAA and other government officials grilled you and your sister for information, and you told them everything you could remember. No, you weren’t happy with so many persons of authority sticking their noses up your ass, but you didn’t have any other choice. Afterwards, they made you sign some documents swearing on your life and liberty that you wouldn’t reveal any information about Eveline or anything else that happened to you, and you did so with mild irritation.

-6:17 You:

I expect it to be fully furnished and painted when I get back.

-6:18 Zoe:

You gonna send me the money?

-6:18 You:

Government pays well for you to keep your mouth shut.

At least you were safe. That’s all that mattered now.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with a text from Chris.

You rolled your eyes.

-6:20 Sir Punch-a-lot:

ETA 5 minutes.

With a laugh, you pocketed your phone and idly rocked on your heels as you waited for Chris to shop up. Seconds had barely passed before you grew fidgety and pulled out your phone again, mindlessly scrolling through apps. It had been years since you had a phone, and you barely knew how to function. You found yourself using it a lot these days. It was a good distraction from all the racing thoughts in your head.

-6:20 You:

You’re texting me, not the president. Stop being so formal.

-6:21 Sir Punch-a-lot:

It’s convenient. Less words to type.

-6:21 You:

Maybe you should try using a gif next time. Even faster.

-6:21 Sir Punch-a-lot:

Gif?

-6:22 You:

Oh dear god.

You didn’t know why, but your thumb mindlessly pressed on the contacts icon, and you read the three names you had in there.

Zoe

Chris

…

Ethan.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you pressed on his name and the options to call or text came up. It had been weeks since you last saw him, and despite him saying that you’d keep in touch, you haven't tried to call him once since then. There’d been many times when you considered it, holding your phone close to your face late at night, the UV light burning your eyes as you read his name and number over and over again. But, you always talked yourself out of it.

What if he moved on? What if he didn’t really want to hear from you, and he said all those things just to be nice? What if… What if Mia was making him happier than you could’ve ever hoped to make him?

You breathed out a sigh, clutching your phone tightly in your hand. You were about to travel to the headquarters of the American branch of the BSAA so you could be briefed, and you had no idea when you’d have another free moment to call him. Now was a better time than ever.

Anxiety crawled down your throat as you pressed the call button next to Ethan’s number, and with a shaky hand, you held the phone to your ear.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring—

"We're sorry The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Goodbye.”

[written-in-flowers]

Bestie i know youre swamped with requests and life in general but the thought of rosebud asking for otto in the middle of a council meeting just to have him bc shes feeling horny has not left my mind since you mentioned it in part 2 😭

Just a random thing too: i have otto hightower as my lockscreen pic and i assume people whos seen it wonder why i have and old man on my lockscreen but tHEY DONT KNOW HIM LIKE I DO HE'S MY POOR MEOW MEOW HES MY BLORBO MY FAVOURITE CHEW TOY MY daddy

A/N: I have yet to change my lockscreen (Namjoon from BTS holds my heart in his big hands), but I totally get where you're coming from lmao I absolutely adore Otto and he's become one of my faves <3 Life has definitely kept me from putting out requests, but just know I am writing lol

Warnings: public sex, quickie, breast/nipple play, and voyeurism (a little bit).

***

He should have suspected something when you came nearly flying into the small council room. Breathless, you bowed to Viserys and excused yourself for the sudden intrusion, but you needed to speak with him. You said it was urgent, and important. Viserys, entirely fond of you, allowed him to leave. A streak of panic ran through his back as he followed you out of the council chamber and into the corridor. You rushed ahead of him, your blue and grey gown billowing behind you, and led him around a corner. He worried it might be Cedric or another personal matter. Had Cedric's condition worsened? The maester said your son was at full health again. Had you become ill? You didn't appear feverish or injured.

Had Daemon approached you? The Prince left King's Landing early this morning, and it'd be like him to visit you. He felt his blood boiling already picturing the handsome prince putting his hands on you. He'd kill him. He'd kill him with his bare hands.

However, that turned out not to be the case. Otto noticed you guided him into an empty corridor, then outside nowhere near your chambers or the maester's tower. He spotted the fire burning in your eyes, your heavy breathing and your hands immediately grasping for him. Halfway down the corridor, you pulled him out of sight into a slot in the wall. Behind a large stone dragon statue, you and Otto were out of sight of anyone passing by. You pressed yourself to the wall and kissed him fiercely. Your lips crashed into his, and hungrily opened his mouth to touch his tongue. Otto did not mind the kiss, even with teeth briefly gnashing together, and certainly didn't object to the hands reaching under his doublet to untie his breeches.

"What is the meaning of this, sweetling?" he asked amusedly, pecking your lips while you slid your hand into his pants. He gasped when your gentle hand grasped his shaft and started slowly tugging it. "Could you not wait for me?"

"No," you whined, kissing at his neck and putting his hand on your breast. You didn't wear a corset. He could tell from how nothing kept you from him. "I couldn't."

"We were in the middle of an important discussion, rosebud."

"You can go back to it when I'm done with you."

He'll admit, this had been a fantasy of his since you mentioned it on your wedding night. He liked the idea of you coming to see him, aroused and wet already, and desperate for his cock. Otto braced himself against the wall behind you while you stroked him. Your dress already slightly off your shoulders, it didn't take much to pull them down further until your breasts spilled out. Otto licked one of your nipples, hearing you whimper at the tongue lashing the sensitive center. He gave it a few soft suckles, focusing on your pleasure while you pulled him out of his breeches. How you aroused him so easily. It only took a little bit of stroking to make him suddenly hard. But, he knew you'd only take him when it was rock solid and standing at attention for you. He groaned, sucking your other nipple, when he felt your thumb rub the underside of his tip. You horny little girl. Feeling one of his hands go down your side, you lifted your dress a bit for him to stick his hand between your thighs.

Gods, you were wet. Soaking. Dripping. He wondered how you'd become so aroused so quickly. Otto liked to think you'd been playing with yourself, imagining him there with you, before you realized fingers aren't good enough. He understood that sometimes having a partner was better than doing it alone. You must've been needy if you wanted him so much you interrupted a small council meeting. Rolling his fingers over the center of your clit, he moved them up and over it repeatedly. This drove you wild. Your slick coated his fingers, dripping into his hand, and made it easier for him to tease you. He continued licking and kissing your breasts, unable to help himself; you massaged his length with both hands now, his precum making it easier for you. He wanted to be inside you; especially now that he knew your desperation for him.

"Fuck me, Otto," you moaned again, eyes closing at his fingers sliding over your entrance. "Please. Don't tease me anymore. Just put it in me, please."

"As you wish."

He lifted you so your legs went around his waist, and your arms hooked around his neck. Holding you up against the wall, he sheathed himself fully inside you. He couldn't believe what he was doing, and with such a beautiful woman. He did not hold back at all. Otto slammed himself inside you, his balls slapping your ass every time he pushed upwards. You buried your face in his neck, using his clothes to muffle your moans. He gritted his teeth to keep back his own groaning; your tight walls clenched him, as if your body wished to trap him inside you. He looked to see your tits bouncing with the force, supple with your hard nipples right in front of him. Otto loved watching them whenever he could. They were all his. Every inch of you belonged to him. The fact that you willingly sought him out for a bit of pleasure awed him. He never thought he'd have such a young, sensual, lascivious beauty in his arms, chest exposed and cunt squeezing him. He almost came from that alone, but you came first. In a few more thrusts, Otto felt you tremble against him and give muffled commands for him to keep going at that pace; that he was hitting the right spot, and to never stop. Soon, his sweet rosebud was slicking him with her cum. He heard a soft squishing coming from below, and he guess you leaked more than he thought.

Otto pounded you into the wall soon enough, spilling his seed deep inside you. It mixed with your juices to create more mess. All the tension that built up inside him released the moment he climaxed. Otto knew his arms and thighs will ache tomorrow, but it was worth it to satisfy you. He kissed your lips, feeling you coming down from your orgasm, and held you there for a few minutes. Then he set you down to the floor.

"Thank you, Husband," you whispered, kissing his lips. "You always know exactly what to do to make me cum so much."

"I hope so. I've been inside you long enough to know by now." He pecked your lips, and nuzzled your nose, "I do wonder what stirred up my wife so much she came seeking me out..."

"N-Nothing special," you said. "I'd been reading that book again, and the stories make me so wet..." you straightened yourself up, fixing your hair, "And I get wetter when I imagine you doing those things to me."

"Pray tell," he replied, tucking himself back into his trousers, "What 'things' did you read about?"

You gave a mischievous smile, and said, "You'll have to find out some other time. I believe you have a meeting to get back to, don't you?"

He chuckled, pinching your chin and kissing you, "You little tease."

The both of you shared a sincere kiss, full of love and tenderness, before pulling away. Looking presentable, you each stepped out from behind the statue. Nobody came down this hall in the morning, so he doubted anybody spotted or heard you. You gave him one final kiss, said you'd see him at supper, and left him standing in front of the small council chamber. He watched you leave, amazed by your resilience. You walked as if your husband had not just been inside you, giving a quick one before continuing his day. Walking back into the council room, he imagined his cum slowly leaking from your sex and onto your inner thighs. He'd love to lick it up for you, then spit it back into your pretty mouth. Perhaps he'll do that tonight, if you were up for it again.

"I trust everything is all right with Y/N and Cedric?" the king asked once he sat back down.

"All is well, I assure you, Your Grace," he answered. "My lady wife can be quick to the worse conclusions when it comes to Cedric."

"She is a new mother, after all," Lord Beesbury chimed in. "It's only natural for her to be worried."

"Agreed," the king said. "Shall we discuss the coppers, Lord Beesbury?"

"Yes, Your Grace. The crown has spent-"

Otto listened to Lord Beesbury inform them of the crown's recent expenses, but in the back of his mind, he pictured you back in your chambers. You liked to nibble on food after sex, so he imagined Emely brought you a small spread with tea. He wished he could be with you. He'd hold you close on your bed, kissing you softly while you talked. Perhaps he'll go to you when the meeting ends. A nice tea with you and Cedric sounded nice.

He did wonder what aroused you so suddenly...

***

(Earlier that day)

You'd left Cedric in the nursery with Helaena and her children while you went to fetch Emely. The girl told you she'd be back with Cedric's blanket some time ago, and she hadn't returned. You didn't mind going to find her, but it wasn't like Emely to not work quickly. Walking up the stairs towards your bedroom, you stopped when you heard a soft moan. It made you pause and listen at the door.

"-Yes, yes, just like that...Just like that...Moan how she moans."

You recognized Daemon's voice immediately. The heavy panting and moaning belonged to Emely; you'd been with her enough times to pick out the sounds. However, she did sound slightly different. She'd changed her voice slightly to mimick yours as best she could. Carefully, you opened your chamber door a crack to peek into the room.

Laying bent over the dining table, dress at her waist and breasts flat on the table, Emely fisted the cloth on the table. They both faced profile to the door, so you saw where their bodies met; Emely's ass rippled each time she was thrusted into. You saw the need for release in her eyes. Sweat beaded her forehead, making stray hair strands stick to her skin, and her braided hair became messy and loose. You looked up from her to the man behind her. Daemon, sweaty and half naked, gripped Emely's hips and pounded into her harshly. The sounds of his body snapping into hers mingled with their moans and grunts. You saw his pale chest and stomach, years of training giving him hard muscles. His silver hair chopped at his shoulders was tousled, and curtaining his face. He kept his eyes on where his and Emely's bodies met, seeing his cock disappear inside her each time. You should be outraged. You should storm into the room and demand an explanation. He's supposed to be on a ship headed back to Pentos.

Then, Daemon looked up. He looked up and stared right at the door where you were. Rather than call to you or say anything, he smirked and chuckled. He began making long strokes so you saw It going inside Emely. He even pushed her dress further up for you to have a better view. Daemon said so much more with his eyes than his mouth. They scanned down your body, undressing you and peeling back layers, licking his lips and letting out another grunt. You clenched your thighs together watching them. Your nipples slowly became erect, and you had a desire to touch them. Daemon must've noticed this dark lust in your stare, because by his grin, he dared you to touch yourself.

No. You couldn't. You wouldn't. Not to Otto. Not to your husband. You instantly shut the door, and therefore shut Daemon Targaryen out of your mind. You'd heard from Emely what a fantastic lover he is; that prostitutes often looked on as he took other women, wishing it was them. Otto was better. Otto loved you. He knew your body in ways Daemon did not, and never would. You stormed out of the tower and headed for the small council chambers.

You'd have him. Not Daemon. Never Daemon.

***

A/N: ooooh close, but no cigar, huh? Rosie almost gave in for a second there, but she loves our Otto far too much to betray him that way. Hmmm, I wonder what it'd take for her to finally crack? Too bad Daemon's no longer in King's Landing. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this little drabble, thanks so much <3

[heniareth]

When A Warden Escapes the Deep Roads

⚠️ CONTENT WARNING: depressive episode ⚠️

At first, leaving Orzammar was an improvement. There was the sun; there was biting cold, fresh wind on her face; there were trees and the clear night sky and sunrises.

The relief gradually faded away and left behind nothing.

Getting up in the mornings became increasingly difficult. She felt less and less hungry. People noticed. Alistair tried to make a comment about it they might both laugh about together; Wynne gave her portions a motherly-concerned-disapproving tut and insisted she take more. One day, Astala finally dropped the excess to the ground behind some bushes when nobody was looking.

The next morning, she lay on her bedroll, listening to the sound of people getting ready around her, wondering when they would check on her, wondering why she wasn't moving.

It was Leliana who finally entered.

"Are you alright?" she asked, carefully approaching. "Are you sick?"

Astala shook her head. Then she shrugged.

Leliana laid her hand on her forehead, comparing it with her own temperature.

"No fever," she finally declared. "Is it your stomach? Is it your time of the month?"

Astala shook her head and shrugged and wished her gone.

"Astala?" Leliana asked.

She had to say something. She didn't know what.

"I..."

She searched for the right words and it was like trying to wade out of a swamp, the ground giving way and pulling her in with each step.

"I don't know," she finally managed. And, Maker, what a pitiful thing her voice was.

Leliana said something, gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. Then she left. Astala felt relief, and at the same time like something was screaming out inside of her.

-

The decision was made to stay and give her time to recover. A good night's sleep, some good food, and she would be right as new.

A day passed.

Another one passed.

A third one passed, then a fourth. Astala didn't move, and she didn't get better.

Cold and wet seeped into her tent at night. On the outside of her blanket hung the faint chill of dawn. She huddled deeper in to preserve what warmth she had, but in doing so drenched the blanket with wet, sticky sweat. Just like at home. Just like at home. But at home they had taken turns to chabge the bedsheets. And her Da was there. And Soris and Shianni. And her friends.

And she had known nothing of the Deep Roads.

Astala lay there wrapped in her blanket, didn't sleep, didn't eat, and slowly felt herself rot.

-

When Zevran entered her tent with food, he didn't leave once he'd put it down. Instead, he sat next to her. He left the tent flat open. The stench inside her dark and dank little refuge had to be tremendous by now.

Astala didn't move.

"My Warden," Zevran finally started. "We are all greatly worried. What is it, hm? What troubles you so?"

Words. She hadn't said anything in days. What even were words? How was she supposed to speak them?

"It might have been a mistake to stop," Zevran continued. "Resting is all well and good, but this is hardly it, no?"

He paused.

"Are you truly attempting to get better?"

The tone caught against Astala's ears like a hook catching flesh and pulling.

"Go away," she muttered.

"Hm?" Zevran shifted, leaning closer to her. "You will have to speak louder, my dear."

"Go away," Astala said, and managed to speak louder.

"No 'fuck off' or 'go step on a hedgehog' or any of those other curses you are so fond of?" Zevran asked and clicked his tongue. "Truly, the situation is more dire than I thought."

And now Astala wanted to tell him to fuck off. But that would mean he'd win.

Instead, she shrugged, and mumbled, "Not fun."

"So I see," Zevran said. Now he had this soothing tone, and it crawled under her skin. "And it is good to hear that. Why, then, are you doing this?"

Why indeed. Astala shrugged again. The offense gave her the energy to do that much, at least.

Zevran waited.

The silence weighed uncomfortably on her. Maybe she could figure out why she was doing this. Why was she lying here? Why was she letting herself rot?

Then again, why not? It felt rather fitting with the Blight in her vains.

"I..." want to.

No. That wasn't right.

"I don't want to."

Better.

"I don't want to."

"Don't want what, my Warden?" Zevran asked, softly.

Again, Astala shrugged.

Zevran waited.

"I don't want... this," Astala tried. "I... don't want to be here. I don't want to do this. ... I don't want to."

Zevran shifted next to her, pulling parts of her blanket with him. Don't, Astala thought. It's filthy. She had been lying in it for days now, and the nice blue woolen blanket she had stolen from Redcliffe was no longer nice.

In fact, she wanted to burn it.

But she didn't move.

"If you could be anywhere you wished right now," Zevran said, "where would you want to be?"

The answer rose up out of Astala's muddled thoughts. As soon as it had formed, a sob squeezed out of her.

"Home."

High-pitched, barely intelligible. But Zevran didn't ask her to repear herself.

"I want to go home," Astala sobbed even so, the thought suddenly clear as day, and urgent. "I want to go home. I don't want to be here, I don't want to do this, I want to go home."

She was babbling now. And crying, big ugly tears and snot mixing with the sweat and the dew on her blanket.

Great.

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder, and that hand was pulling her in, against a soft, solid, soap-scented-

"Don't touch me!" Astala violently jerked away from Zevran. Into her blankets, she whispered, "I'm filthy."

"Yes, you are," came the answer.

Astala let out a loud sob and huddled deeper in her self-made prison of a cocoon.

"You need a bath," Zevran continued, and Astala cried on.

"I will carry you, if you wish. The river is not far."

Carry her? He'd get filthy too.

Astala sobbed one more time and shook her head. Then she pushed the blanket aside. Just enough to free one shoulder. The chill in the air made her hiss through her teeth.

"Leave it on," Zevran said. "It will benefit from some water as well."

Astala shook her head again. She wanted the filthy thing off her, and so she half-pulled, half-pushed it aside. Zevran picked it up—she should stop him, but she didn't. And now she was crying again, sniffling in an attempt to hold back the snot.

They left the tent, and she kept her head low. She didn't want to see anybody looking at her. Zevran accompanied her to the river, and for a while she just sat there, feet dangling in the icy water, while he dunked the whole blanket in. The sun was shining. Its rays didn't warm anything, but they reflected off the water. Astala knew it was beautiful, but the beauty didn't manage to get through to her.

After a while, Leliana appeared with towels and soap. Zevran left. Astala wanted to hold him back, but didn't.

Not Leliana. She talked too much. Zevran was much more patient.

But Leliana asked no questions, only helped her undress and step into the water. She let Astala wash herself, and then washed her hair. Astala wouldn't have been able to do that by herself. Leliana had even gotten her hair soap, the special one from Isabela, and when Astala had dressed—in clean clothes, and had wrapped a clean blanket around herself—Leliana did her best to disentangle her hair. It pulled. Astala didn't care.

She was crying again. She tried to keep it silent so Leliana wouldn't notice.

"Zevran said you wanted to go home?" Leliana suddenly asked.

Words. They couldn't creep past the thickness in her throat. So Astala merely nodded.

"We can do this," Leliana promised. "The Landsmeet is in Denerim, and we will be there! You will go back home."

Astala shook her head and continued crying and wondered how on earth she was supposed to explain that with "home" she meant home when she was a little girl who had never heard of work or of the Blight and whose mama was still alive. Leliana squeezed her shoulder and continued working.

-

They traveled on. Slowly, with ample breaks, and everybody was fussing over her. But she didn't lie for days in a flithy blanket anymore. This was good. Maybe it had only been a weird fluke.

They received the news when they reached Highever. The darkspawn had gotten to West Hill. The news froze her blood in her veins. Weird fluke or not, it was over. She had wasted too much time. The darkspawn had gotten within a day's travel to Denerim.

---

This is partly a vent snippet because I miss home. But also this part of Astala's story has been brewing for a long time, and writing it out today has felt good

[klbwriting]

The Jason Todd Anomaly

Chapter 7: What Else Do You Need To Tell Me?

Pairing: Jason Todd x female!Reader

Warnings: little violent, nothing too bad

Summary: Penguin is arrested and Y/N finds something interesting on the feather she received a few months ago

Y/N and Jason were awkwardly dancing around each other both in the gym and in the evenings.  Y/N was getting more calls telling her to not get involved, and Jason was doing his best to watch her back without her knowing.  Something was brewing in Gotham and he didn't want her to get killed trying to stop whatever storm was happening.  She, in turn, was trying to solve the mystery around the mysterious calls, sticking her nose where it really didn't belong.  She was getting better but was still sloppy enough that Jason spent more time cleaning up after her than actually doing his patrols.  The Robins were bitching about it to him constantly and it was grating on his nerves.  Finally, after a month of waiting, Y/N got a break in her case when the tech she had convinced to run tests on the feather from her apartment gave her the report.

"Wait, are you telling me that this isn't a real feather?" she asked, looking over the analysis.  The tech shrugged.  He looked frazzled.  The police had been able to catch Penguin the previous evening with the help of the Robins and they were swamped trying to round up his thugs in his territory and take it over.  She had been funneling calls all morning asking about the school and hotel and when people could start moving.   She was able to string lies together to stall for time but she hoped that by the next week she could start getting people settled.

"Its a high quality fake, not cheap, but you can tell because there's a poem on the inside of the calamus," he said, taking the file and showing her the second page.  She took the file back and frowned.  "No idea what it means but that's all I could get from it.  Now I have better things to do, bye."  He gave a tight smile and took off to get back to his real work.  Y/N sat at her desk reading the poem a few times in confusion, snapping a picture of it on her phone to search later.

Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head

"What the actual fuck?" she whispered.  She needed to talk to someone about this.  Dammit.  She would have to figure out a way to get in touch with Red Hood or the Robins.  She glanced over when the police were bringing in Penguin and frowned.  He was beaten badly, worse then she could imagine the cops around here doing.  There were few decent cops and these people were about it, so why did it look like someone had kicked the shit out of Penguin?  Another thing to ask the Robins, if one of them had done it that is, she couldn't imagine even Red Hood doing that, he would have just shot the bastard and been done with it.  Behind her someone called her name.  She stood and took a few steps, looking around for whoever needed her, but no one seemed to even noticed she was there.  Shrugging she turned back to her desk and saw that the report on the feather was gone.  Fuck.

Jason was very good at lying to people.  He could lie to anyone, just not himself.  Something about dying and coming back to life gave him time to reflect and in truth, lying to yourself was a waste of time and time wasn't a luxury he felt he had anymore.  He had died once, who knows when he would be killed again.  Joker was dead, but Harley might still want to take him out.  He did kill her boyfriend after all.  He wasn't going to tell himself that he didn't have some inkling of feelings for Y/N.  That her being Anomaly didn't make her more attractive to him.  That every time he met up with her he considered actually telling her who he was, seeing if they could work together, maybe take her to the diner with the intention of going on a date.  But he wasn't going to tell anyone else that, ever, especially not Y/N.  He wouldn't tell her who he was, he wouldn't tell her that he knew who she was, and he would never, ever, tell her that he had feelings for her.  That would complicate matters more than he could handle.  He could take this secret to the grave.  He definitely would never admit it or do anything about his feelings.  He was Jason Fucking Todd, been dead, brought back to life, shot, stabbed, poisoned, he could contain his emotions over one girl.  Totally.

He definitely wasn't outside Gotham PD waiting to see her leave so that he could make sure she got home safe before starting patrols, he wanted to make sure she stayed home that night instead of heading out on her own. He knew something was going on in Gotham and he didn't want anyone else to get involved, especially not someone so new to this life.  If she stayed home that night he could go out and patrol in peace, maybe even follow the lead about Penguin's arrest.  None of his family had brought him in, and he knew that Y/N wouldn't have been able to pull that off yet, but he had noticed at the scene of arrest that someone stood in the shadows, watching.  He had gotten a scan on the person's face and was having Alfred look into it for him.  If he found that person maybe he could start unraveling the mystery behind the 'war for Gotham'.  He groaned when Y/N went into her apartment and not even 10 minutes later, just as true dark was setting on the city, climbed out of her window and jumped to the roof next to her balcony.  Fuck.

He donned his helmet and took off after her.  She headed into his territory and found the diner, watching it.  Did she think he lived there or something?

"What are you doing?" he asked, coming over to where she perched.  She looked back at him, not startled.  At some point she must have realized he was following.

"I was waiting for you to show yourself," she said.   "I wanted to ask you and your friends about Penguin's arrest."  He folded his arms and tilted his head, waiting for her to continue.  "I saw when they brought him in, he looked like someone had been trying to kill him, or at least bring him as close to death as possible.  I know the Robins wouldn't be that vicious, and I don't feel like you would either, you would just put him down, so you have any ideas?"  Jason frowned, contemplating this news.  He hadn't actually seen Penguin, only knew of the arrest.  He was already in the back of the van when Jason had arrived on the scene.  Penguin beat to hell wasn't the MO for any of them, not even Damian, they all wanted him to go into Gotham PD and spill secrets about the other crime lords, not be so incapacitated he was useless.  He started pacing as Anomaly just watched.

"None of us are responsible for that," he said.  "Did you notice anything else when you saw him?"  She shook her head.  He could tell there was something else even with her mask.  Her body was still perched, too still, like she was worried about moving, about setting something off.  A bomb that she didn't know how to disengage.  "What else do you need to tell me?"

"I don't need to tell you anything, but I do need to ask your help," she said.  "You and your Robin friends."  She pulled out a piece of paper and held it out to him.  There was a poem on it.  "A couple months ago I got a call at my place, some voice telling me to not stick my nose where it doesn't belong, about a war for Gotham.  I thought it was you at first, trying to scare me off, but then I found this feather on my windowsill, my window open.  I took it to a friend I have in the GCPD and he found out the feather was fake, some kind of fancy costume piece I think.  And embedded on the stem was this poem.   Something about a Court of Owls.  You ever heard of them?"

"I have no idea what that is, but I've been getting message too, about a war, and about you keeping out of it," he said.  Her eyes bored into him.  "I don't know why they thought I could stop you, but they threatened you, me and the rest of the city, getting wrapped up in this war."  She stood finally, moving over to him, taking the poem.

"They say they rule Gotham from the shadows, and now Gotham is in pieces, must be pretty hard to rule when several other people are vying for the same crown.   Wonder if these bird people got sick of waiting for someone else to take out their competition," she said.  "They take out Penguin, give him to the GCPD, which we all know are easy to corrupt, get some good graces with the commissioner, try to start ruling again."

"I don't thin Gordon is the type to roll over and give up the city to these dramatic dickbags," Jason said.

"You haven't seen him recently have you?  Gordon isn't what he used to be, since Batman disappeared he's been despondent, he has an assistant handling more and more of the day to day duties, only handling big things when he can take it.  I worry he might be in the perfect position for someone to come in and tell him he can take a break, that Gotham can be run by those who care about it.  I mean, giving him Penguin?   That's a gift from these fuckers," she said.  Jason frowned.  He hadn't seen Gordon since he had told them that Bruce was missing, presumed dead, he might not be the same man he was then.  He might be getting beaten down by the constant shit that was thrown at him.  Jason turned to face Anomaly completely just as a creature appeared behind her, grabbing her from behind and disappearing her into the shadows.  He moved to give chase when he felt a surge of electricity in his whole body.  He collapsed, only seeing the feet of the same kind of creature before he passed out.  Fuck.

[csphire]

Warning: Patch #3 Critical

I need to rant. (And I might be channeling Astarion a little here too.) Please bear with me while I scream into the tumble void. Ah-look, I know it's just dye but absolutely HATE what they did to some if not all of them in patch #3. And I don't throw that word around lightly.

RIP Ocean and Swamp dye. As for the others, I don't have the heart to look at them just yet after seeing how my top two favs were done so dirty. The two most tasteful ones I feel were ruined. Has Muddy Red has been nerfed too? Ugh. At least Black and Jade has been spared... for now.

So who asked for this? What four people on the forums cried out for this that just happened to catch Larian's eye?

Add more colors that's fine. Please do! Go right ahead-go crazy! More options are always a good thing and will make everyone happy! But for the love of the gods DON'T mess up the colors we already had and come to love Larian.

What the actual HELLS!

I didn't save that monstosity pictured but the fact we cannot recreate the looks we've come to love since launch in new saves is genuinely depressing. Like I don't want to play any more depressing. Or I think I'll stop dying armors completely now because I like all the options even less now.

Yes, I know on some level it's just a dye but something I like this getting changed after launch feels like a violation or a favorite toy being snatched away.

So yes some of us are throwing a fit over this.

And don't get me started on His Majesty. Did they not see us all cooing over that adorable hairless diva cat? Did they not see all the fan art dedicated to him? Do they think we're that stupid and easily confused by two hairless cats in the shadow-cursed lands? Sure for a hot second, I thought it was His Majesty by Moonrise Towers but then we all know how to read the words Steel and Claw!

Look, this isn't early access anymore, radical cosmetic changes hit a bit differently now. Let's hope they keep that in mind and have more sensitivity about that moving forward.

[dragonbonez]

It was pretty close in the end!

This is still pretty early in so changes might happen, but here’s a little excerpt that doesn’t give any plot lines away! Please let me know if you like it haha

TBD Name

Fandom: A:TLA

They were in the Northern Water Tribe when he asked. It was one of their more personal trips, so there wasn’t any official Avatar business to pull Aang away immediately. Sokka wanted to introduce Suki to his extended family since she was finally not being swamped by her duties after the war, and of course, Katara was going with them.

Aang had suggested that he and Toph could walk around town and get some extra supplies for when they were ready to leave. Everyone had agreed to those plans and soon half of the group was gone, leaving the last Airbender and the greatest Earthbender to have some nice leisure time.

Toph really did not like being in any of the water tribe locations unfortunately. The people were always nice of course, and the food was always something to write home about if she could (in the good and bad sense), but these were the places where she felt the most useless. The ice beneath her was just cold and Toph had to wear shoes in order to not get frostbite, so it wasn’t just useless, she also felt confined. It was not a set of feelings Toph liked. It always made her feel like the way her parents had thought of her. Blind, fragile, powerless.

But thankfully this time around she had Aang to hang on to. Toph grabbed onto his arm almost immediately after getting down from Appa. She felt her own heartbeat go just a bit faster as she felt the warmth against the cold air. Aang knew perfectly well that ice was not Toph’s friend, and he made up with it spectacularly by distracting her with constant fun idle talk. Toph really did like Aang’s voice, so already she felt much better than back in those times when her parents dictated her life. And as they went about buying supplies and talking about everything and nothing, laughing at the silliest things they could not laugh about with the others, and maybe spending some of the money on not so necessary snacks for later, Toph felt something in her heart grow warmer as well.

They returned to the meet up spot some time later, with bags of supplies on their backs and remnants of street food on their faces, and if Toph had clung to Aang’s arm a bit longer than necessary once the group was back together, well, the ice was at fault for sure.

***

Bonus excerpt:

(I wanted to show some of the dialogue haha)

Aang passed a hand over his face trying to wipe away the sleep, then when that didn’t work, he slapped his cheeks with both of his hands to try to bully sleep out of his body. That didn’t work either and his cheeks were now stinging pretty bad.

“I can help with that if you want.” Sokka said, smiling at Aang from his spot.

He also had some dark circles under his eyes, but he looked pretty okay overall.

Aang chuckled softly, “Thanks, I think I got it though.”

Sokka looked back at Aang and then at where Toph was resting on Appa, his smile turned sly. He pointed with his thumb at the sleeping pair. “You can take a quick power nap over there if you want. We have maybe an hour before we have to wake everyone up.”

Aang followed where his finger was pointing at and a very slight blush crossed his face, “What about you? Aren’t you tired?”

“Not as tired as you.” Sokka replied, “and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t mind that much either.”

Aang’s blush grew much more crimson and he groaned. “Sokka, come on…” He was not about to stand for this, “Don’t say it.”

Sokka’s smile grew even bigger as he slid towards Aang wrapping an arm around him. “Say what, Mister Avatar, sir?”

“Nothing! Don’t say anything!” Aang pleaded.

“Ok, fine. I don’t have anything to say anyways.” Sokka unwrapped him and put both of his hands up as a sign of peace. Then without so much as a warning. “HEY, TOPH-“

*******

WELP THAT IS ALL I CAN GIVE

I hope these make people excited for what’s to come! I’m hoping to finish it before I even have to think about going back to school.

[arizonaconservativegal]

Hi there. Californian desperately looking to flee this coming summer. Was once considering Arizona but I’m concerned that the election chaos of CA is in AZ too and now you have a Democrat governor. Is this still a place I can safely flee or is AZ lost like Cali now? Honestly asking. I don’t want to absorb the work and expense of relocating just to be in the same place.

I might give it a year and see how much Katie Hobbs is able to bypass or bully the legislature. I think they'll be able to keep her in check but they have an unfortunate habit of being certifiably insane so I hate to put all my hopes on them. In general, I don't expect the next four years to be super fun here but I wouldn't say the fight is over yet. Our state party doesn't know what the fuck it's doing but if they get their shit together, the state is very winnable. We may have had a big influx of Californians moving here since covid but this is still a slightly right of center state.

I'll give you my usual warnings about moving here:

If you're renting, you should know that housing prices in the cities / larger towns have shot up about 50% in about four years and show no signs of slowing. Be ready for that. I don't know offhand what the trend has been for the more rural areas, but I imagine it's gone up a fair bit too. Still much, much cheaper than California though.

If you're buying, you need to very thoroughly dig into the water rights where you buy or you might find yourself in a lot of expensive trouble very quickly. This is especially true if you are looking at a rural area but several unincorporated areas on the edges of Phoenix have learned the hard way recently that hiring water haulers isn't cheap.

In most of the state, illegal immigration tends to be more of a political issue than a daily life issue but for areas on the border and along major drug corridors, it is a very serious problem. Good luck getting into a hospital in Yuma - they're overflowing with illegal immigrants. I also personally know people who cannot go outside on their own property at night because the cartels use it to traffick all sorts of things and they will shoot you if they see you.

We did manage to hold on to the corporation commission, which regulates the power companies, so I'm not too worried about this unless the legislature does something dumb, but we do need a new power plant soon or we may be looking at rolling blackouts in the not super distant future... I think it'll be okay but it would have been good to have a Republican in the governor's office to smooth that process a bit.

We have a very low income tax and property taxes tend to be low for primary residences. People think this means we are a low tax state. What they forget is that we have a very high sales tax - nearly 10% in some areas. All said and done, we're fairly average for total tax rates when compared with other states. It's still a lot better than California, but I don't want you to be surprised.

You need a car to get around here. Public transportation exists but isn't very functional and nothing is close enough to walk. Make sure you get a new Arizona plate (you only need one) because otherwise everyone will see your Cali plates and automatically hate you.

And the last warning I have is that yes, it really does get fuck-off hot here in the summer. Expect temperatures to never fall below 100 for the entire month of July. If Phoenix doesn't get a straight week of 115+, that's a mild summer. If you're from LA, you probably know what to expect. Otherwise, make sure you have a good AC system - and you want AC, not a swamp cooler. Trust me.

All that said, it's really a great state to live in. It's raining today and that's a rare enough event that everyone gets excited for it. There really is nothing like a southern Arizona sunset. Jeans and a button down shirt count as formal attire in half the state, especially when paired with cowboy boots. Most of the population is from somewhere else so you can find restaurants with quality food from anywhere you like. In most of the state, you will literally never have to shovel snow or scrape ice off your windshield. We have all the major sports franchises so you can go to big games when you want and they don't totally suck but none of the teams are good enough that anyone really expects you to root for them over your home team. We have more biomes here than any other state in the country so whatever kind of environment you want, you can get. Natural disasters don't happen in most of the state - the worst thing is forest fires in the north which are usually manageable. We have a weirdly huge historic car community because our climate is so dry that the cars don't rust. People put Christmas lights on cacti. Haboobs look like the apocalypse is rolling in but are really just a funny word for the newscasters to say a lot. You will see people wearing a bolo tie unironically. I once saw a woman put a tumbleweed in the back of a minivan. I love it here.

[panlight]

Did I send a Christmas in the "No Nessie" AU question yet this year? I've been so remiss! How do the Cullens and their attached humans celebrate this year? All of Bella's parents know now. How does that affect things? Are the Volturi involved? What about the pack? Are the Cullens doing anything to help about the "tripledemic"?

Okay, so last year was a Swan Family Christmas with Charlie, Sue, Renee and Phil all being flown in by a private jet to wherever the Cullens were living.

Also, a nomad arrived in Volterra with information that set the Volturi on the hunt for hybrids.

This Christmas, the circle is even wider. Renee is still taking the vampire stuff really, really well and when the Cullens mentioned their 'cousins' she just HAD to meet them, so the Denali were invited to Christmas this year. Phil is still a bit overwhelmed, but he and Charlie had weirdly bonded over being uncomfortable with all this. And Emmett happily distracts them with watching The Big Game (of whatever sport) when they are together. They both adore Emmett. Emmett seems almost normal. Emmett is a familiar archetype. They try to forget he's a vampire bornin 1915, and mostly they succeed.

Eleazar takes one step into the house and is nearly knocked over from the force of Renee's latent talent. That whole thing from Midnight Sun where her mental voice is screaming for help all the time and people feel compelled to take care of her? Eleazar can sense it and instantly becomes alarmed. Because in the wrong hands this power--a power that compels people to do as Renee asks almost like mind-control--could be very dangerous, and Aro might want it. A vampire Renee, with a more intense version of her gift and who wielded it on purpose versus human Renee who didn't know what she was doing and just thought people were always super accommodating and nice to her? Eleazar immediately pulled Carlisle, Esme, Edward and Jasper aside to talk about his concerns.

Charlie notices the hushed concern, but pretends he doesn't. Garrett joins them and switches the TV from The Game to a documentary about A War and he and the Dads had a grand old time. They definitely try not to think about how old Garrett must be when he talks about having been at the Battle of Yorktown.

Seth, Leah, and Leah's partner Samantha arrive a few days late because of the weather. Esme and Alice try their best to keep things festive and bright but everyone can sense that something is up with Eleazar and that it has something to do with Renee.

Then the telephone rings.

Carlisle hopes its the hospital--they were swamped with Covid, flu and RSV and it would not be strange for him to be called in on his day off--but from the look on Alice and Edward's faces he knows its not. "Cullen Residence." "Ah, my dear friend Carlisle! How good it is to hear your voice after all this time! I hope you and your dear family are having a blessed Christmastide!"

"Thank you, Aro," he tried to keep his voice calm, but he was horrified. How did Aro know about Renee already? "But I suspect this is not merely a social call?"

"Ah ha ha! Of course! Your delightful Alice no doubt warned you of my call. Such a clever girl," he said with a sigh. "Well, then, I will skip the pleasantries. I am afraid I must ask you to come to Volterra."

Alice and Edward looked at each other. Alice had seen Aro calling, but not about what. They had assumed it had something to do with Renee. Carlisle glanced at them but Alice shrugged helplessly. Whatever this was about, Alice couldn't see it.

"My brothers and I have made and extraordinary discovery, and have found ourselves in need of the services of a vampire doctor to make sense of it all. And you MUST meet our new friend Joham and his remarkable children."

Aro didn't know about Renee's power yet; but if the Cullens answered the summons and went to Volterra, he would find out the moment he touched any of them.

Bella glanced anxiously at her mother understanding that, one way or another, next Christmas was going to be very different.

[disarm-you]

Flirting with the Devil

Hey everyone! My pesky W2 job has me swamped. I am behind on a couple requests, so naturally my brain wanted to work on this instead. I hope you all enjoy it!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Female Reader

Warnings: smut- MDNI, light marijuana use, porn with feeling, edging, fingering, early relationship. Adding dub con out of an abundance of caution!

Summary: Matt unexpectedly drops by before your first date and one thing leads to another.

1800 words.

I would like to follow these two along and see where their journey takes them but I cannot promise more anytime soon.

Thoughts/feedback/requests/reblogs are all welcome. Story under the cut. <3

Your living room goes fuzzy from standing up too quickly. It seems that you may have smoked too much of your joint while waiting for your edible to kick in. Wishing your vision was clearing faster, you hear the second knock at your door. “Coming!” You yell as you place your paintbrushes down, dry your hands on a towel and walk to the door. Your heart skips a beat and then takes off when you see Matt standing there. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Murdock, come on in.” You welcome him with a flirty tone while trying to slow your heart. Matthew had helped your disabled aunt sue her previous employer for discrimination, amongst felony crimes for other clients. Your paths have crossed several times since your initial visit with him at the law offices of Nelson & Murdock before he finally asked you out on a date. Which just so happened to be tonight. Your heart was racing with anticipation which was cut by a sharp pang of fear. Was Matt dropping by to cancel on your plans? 

“Hey darling.” Matt’s voice interrupts your worries. “We got the first settlement check from Union Allied and I wanted to drop it off.” He says, while reaching into his jacket pocket, producing an envelope. 

“Matt, that’s so kind of you but you didn’t have to make a trip over. I could have easily got it off Karen or from you later tonight!” You reply as relief washed over you when you realized he wasn’t canceling. 

“Please, it’s not a problem. Court let out early and your place is on the way to the office. Besides, tomorrow is the first of the month and I thought you might want to deposit it in time.” He said, placing the envelope in your hand. 

You accept it and ask to take his jacket. “Do you have to get back to the office? Can I make you some tea or coffee? I also have some fresh squeezed lemonade I made this morning.” 

“I always have time for you dear. Lemonade would be perfect before this afternoon’s deposition.” He says while shrugging off his jacket and handing it to you. You turn to hang it up and get a few glasses from above the sink but not before noticing Matt cock his head. 

“Is that Kaskade?” He asks. “Yeah, it’s one of his older sets. You like house music!? You exclaim, you don’t often meet people in real life who enjoy your style of music. 

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Matt smiles. “I like music that I can feel, songs that have layers I can get lost in.”

You two chatted about your favorite artists and songs as you poured the drinks. All the while you were buzzing. Not just from the edible that was just kicking in but from the electricity that hummed between you. This man had a pull on you from the moment you saw him. Yes he’s handsome with a devilish grin but he’s also selfless and has a high sense of emotional intelligence. But that doesn’t mean he’s soft in the courtroom, or commanding when he needs to be. He’s a total package, which briefly makes you wonder what could be wrong with him. He’s never been married or had kids, after all. 

That question passed quickly when his laugh drew you back into reality. You notice how close he is standing to you. How his dress shirt sits snug across his chest. You can almost see the fabric straining against his strong pecs. You think of how badly you want to caress him. Your eyes move to his mouth next, while he talks about a show he went to last year. You let yourself ever so slightly fantasize about what it would be like to kiss him,staring at his lips longer than you should,foolishly thinking that just because he wasn’t sighted he wouldn’t notice. 

Except he did notice, you just aren’t aware of his abilities - yet. Matt had picked up on the smell of your joint before he walked into your building. He heard the strokes of your paintbrush as he walked down the hall to your apartment and the drum of your heartbeat sang in his ears when you opened your door to him. He sensed every lingering glance you laid upon him, adding to the growing tension in the room. He could also sense the way your body called to him and it was stirring something within him as well. A feeling that hasn’t been felt for quite some time. His nighttime affairs have been far more nefarious than pleasurable as of late. 

You were trying to calm yourself down but weren’t being successful. The burning in your belly grows each minute, your mind continuing to wander more about what it would feel like being held in his strong arms…having him above you when you sharply inhale and shake your head. You had promised yourself after your last heartbreak that you weren’t going to move too fast again. However the edible you took to help you be creative on canvas has you wanting more. 

Matt sipped his drink, trying to keep his mind off the arousal your body was throwing at him. Swallowing, he says ‘This tastes delicious. I can’t recall the last time I had real lemonade and not the powdered kind we keep at the office.”

‘I’m really glad you like it. I sweetened it with honey instead of sugar.’ You clear your throat and decide that talking should help get your mind out of the gutter. “You know, it’s interesting that we have the same taste in music for a similar reason. I like it because it busies my mind with a beautiful journey and allows me to just paint. Or write. Or draw. Whatever I need at the time. It gives me the space I need to grow as a person.” You say feeling vulnerable as heat rises in your face. Even high, you realized that was an over share. 

Matt smiles and walks toward you, to set his drink down on the counter. He’s only a few inches away from you and your body is on fire with want. “There’s a new show in town next month, come with me. I know we haven’t technically had our first date yet but I would be honored to experience it with you.” You had to stop yourself from squealing at the thought of dancing with Matt all night long, getting lost into both the music and each other. 

“I would love that.’ You reply, heart skipping a beat when he reaches a hand below your chin lifting your chin towards his. He steps into your space, lips hovering just above yours and asks to kiss you. Too enamored with his presence and cologne surrounding you to speak, you nod your head yes. Matt closes the gap, tenderly brushing his lips against yours. 

You can’t see it but Matt is struggling to keep his composure. You caught his interest the moment you sat down across from him and it’s been hard behaving while he was representing your aunt. Now that case was over and he was anticipating your first date after weeks of tension. Your body was wailing at him- flushed skin, increased heart rate and breathing. Hell, you weren’t wearing any panties and your scent was going straight to his head. 

He desperately wanted to give in to desire and take you right then and there but he also knew you were high. And you didn’t know who he really was, yet. He didn’t feel right fucking you until you knew he was DareDevil. The good Catholic boy in him won this round. Mostly. 

Matt continues to kiss you. His lips are soft and warm against yours. You open your lips allowing him to slide his tongue into your mouth.  You start massaging his tongue with yours.

Your bodies pressed together in a passionate kiss. It felt so good, being wrapped up in Matt’s arms, making out like horny teenagers. The scent of him was heady and you could feel dampening between your thighs. Before you know it, you were involuntarily rubbing your thighs together, trying to get some relief from the need growing there. 

“I got you pretty girl.” Matt chuckles lightly, quickly catching on to your movements. Leaning in for another kiss, his hands drop from your face moving down towards your shoulders and they gently line your body until he reaches the hem of your sundress. Your breath hitches as he glides his palms up your thighs, bringing your dress with it. 

He rucks it up and over your hips. You instinctively spread your legs for him as he placed his hand between your legs, your heart racing with desire for him. He brings his hand to the top of your mound and he could already feel your wetness. He slowly moves his hand down your slit and stops, teasing at your entrance. 

Gasping, you hook your thigh around his leg, trying to angle yourself so that his fingers slip inside you. But Matt is faster than that and has already brought his fingers up to your clit and was circling it, pleased by the reaction it brought from you. 

You let out a small moan as you clench around nothing. The feeling of him caressing your clit was dizzying, heightened by your high and had you frantically moving your hips in tandem. The intensity of it all was going to make you cum and quickly. You tried to fight it, wanting to enjoy the pleasure longer and just as you were beginning to fall, Matt stopped.

“No-PLEASE!” You practically scream as the high falls backwards. It took everything in you not to beg this man to fuck you. 

Kissing you roughly, he trails down and teases around your hole before bringing his hands back up to your clit. Rubbing at the perfect speed, he quickly brought you back to where you were. 

“Go on, doll, take what you need.” He husked. It was all you needed in order to feel that tight ball in your lower belly let go. You arch your back as you cum, moaning out Matt’s name. 

He stills and presses his forehead to yours as you come down. Gathering what was left of your wits, you lean in to kiss Matt and reach for his belt buckle. 

“I admire the enthusiasm but I have to get back for a deposition. Foggy is already pissed at me for being late this morning.” He says while gently grabbing your wrist to stop you. 

He helps you fix your dress and you watch intently as he licks your taste of his fingers, seeming to savor it. 

“I’ll come by at 7 tonight for dinner.” He whispers, leaning in as he kisses you one last time before walking out the door. 

This man is absolutely going to ruin me. You think, as you hear the door close behind him.