#many new things fair and wonderful were devised.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Silmarillion Daily - Of Menegroth

Today’s Silmarillion Daily contains two events - one is the building/carving of Menegroth and the other, happening around the same time in Valinor, is the births of Turgon and Finrod.

Here’s the part on Menegroth:

Now Melian had much foresight, after the manner of the Maiar; and when the second age of the captivity of Melkor had passed, she counselled Thingol that the Peace of Arda would not last forever. He took thought therefore how he should make for himself a kingly dwelling, and a place that should be strong, if evil were to awake again in Middle-earth; and he sought aid and counsel of the Dwarves of Belegost. They gave it willingly, for they were unwearied in those days and eager for new works; and though the Dwarves ever demanded a price for all that the did, whether with delight or with toil, at this time they held themselves paid. For Melian taught them much that they were eager to learn, and Thingol rewarded them with many fair pearls. These Círdan gave to him, for they were got in great number in the shallow waters about the Isle of Balar; but the Naugrim had not before seen their like, and they held them dear. One there was as great as a dove’s egg, and its sheen was as starlight on the foam of the sea; Nimphelos it is named, and the chieftain of the Dwarves of Belegost prized it above a mountain of wealth.

Therefore the Naugrim laboured long and gladly for Thingol, and devised for him mansions after the fashion of their people, delved deep in the earth. Where the Esgalduin flowed down, and parted Neldoreth from Region, there rose in the midst of the forest a rocky hill, and the river ran at its feet, There they made the gates of the hall of Thingol, and they built a bridge of stone over the river, by which alone the gates could be entered. Beyond the gates wide passages ran down to high halls and chambers far below that were hewn in the living stone, so many and so great that that dwelling was named Menegroth, the Thousand Caves.

But the Elves also had part in that labour, and Elves and Dwarves together, each with their own skill, there wrought out the visions of Melian, images of the wonder and beauty of Valinor beyond the Sea. The pillars of Menegroth were hewn in the lines of the beeches of Oromë, stock, bough, and leaf, and they were lit with lanterns of gold. The nightingales sang there as in the gardens of Lórien; and there were fountains of silver, and basins of marble, and floors of many-coloured stones. Carven figures of beasts and birds there ran upon the walls, or climbed upon the pillars, or peered among the branches entwined with many flowers. And as the years passed Melian and her maidens filled the halls with woven hangings wherein could be read the deeds of the Valar, and many things that had befallen in Arda since its beginning, and shadows of things that were yet to be. That was the fairest dwelling of any king that has ever been east of the Sea.

And when the building of Menegroth was achieved, and there was peace in the realm of Thingol and Melian, the Naugrim yet came ever and anon over the mountains and went in traffic about the lands; but they went seldom to the Falas, for they hated the sound of the sea and feared to look upon it. To Beleriand there came no other rumour or tidings of the world without.

There’s another tidbit about Menegroth in History of Middle-earth (The Peoples of Middle-earth, “The problem of Ros”):

…the great Hall of the Throne of Elwë in the midst of his stronghold of Menegroth…was called the Menelrond [heaven-dome], because by the arts and aid of Melian its high arched roof had been adorned with silver and gems set in the order and figures of the stars in the great Dome of Valmar in Aman, whence Melian came.

The section further states that Elwing named Elrond in memory of this place, and that this was held to be prophetic, as it foreshadowed Elrond choosing the kindred of the Eldar and “carrying on the lineage of King Elwë [Footnote: Also also that of Turgon; though he oreferred that of Elwë, who was not under the ban that was laid on the Exiles.]”, while Elros, named for water, crossed the seas and became King of Númenor.

I feel like Menegroth in the passage above comes about as close as anything else we see to Eru’s ideal for the Ainur and the Eruhíni: dwarves and elves and a Maia all working together in Middle-earth to make something beautiful with their different skills and knowledge. The decision to do it in incited by the awareness of danger, but that leads not to hostility but to cooperation and beauty. It’s not in Valinor, but it recalls much of Valinor and of the Valar: the carvings of trees and woodland creatures recall the forests of Oromë, the nightingales the gardens of Lórien, the tapestries of history (and visions of the future) the halls of Vairë and Mandos. Different peoples get a glimpse of things they don’t fully understand, but are drawn to: the dwarves can’t stand the sea, but they nonetheless love Círdan’s pearls.

This is what makes the way Menegroth ends such an absolute tragedy, and it is what makes Legolas and Gimli in The Lord of the Rings the redress of that tragedy: their visits to Aglarond and Fangorn, each understanding what the other loves, is a kind of echo of the unity of these caverns carved with trees and forest-creatures. They’re putting things right. (As, in a different way, Galadriel is putting Fëanor’s story right, and Elrond is putting Thingol’s specifically right.) Not putting things back exactly as they were, but healing them.

[roach-works]

here’s a story about changelings

reposted from my old blog, which got deleted:   Mary was a beautiful baby, sweet and affectionate, but by the time she’s three she’s turned difficult and strange, with fey moods and a stubborn mouth that screams and bites but never says mama. But her mother’s well-used to hard work with little thanks, and when the village gossips wag their tongues she just shrugs, and pulls her difficult child away from their precious, perfect blossoms, before the bites draw blood. Mary’s mother doesn’t drown her in a bucket of saltwater, and she doesn’t take up the silver knife the wife of the village priest leaves out for her one Sunday brunch. She gives her daughter yarn, instead, and instead of a rowan stake through her inhuman heart she gives her a child’s first loom, oak and ash. She lets her vicious, uncooperative fairy daughter entertain herself with games of her own devising, in as much peace and comfort as either of them can manage. Mary grows up strangely, as a strange child would, learning everything in all the wrong order, and biting a great deal more than she should. But she also learns to weave, and takes to it with a grand passion. Soon enough she knows more than her mother–which isn’t all that much–and is striking out into unknown territory, turning out odd new knots and weaves, patterns as complex as spiderwebs and spellrings. “Aren’t you clever,” her mother says, of her work, and leaves her to her wool and flax and whatnot. Mary’s not biting anymore, and she smiles more than she frowns, and that’s about as much, her mother figures, as anyone should hope for from their child. Mary still cries sometimes, when the other girls reject her for her strange graces, her odd slow way of talking, her restless reaching fluttering hands that have learned to spin but never to settle. The other girls call her freak, witchblood, hobgoblin. “I don’t remember girls being quite so stupid when I was that age,” her mother says, brushing Mary’s hair smooth and steady like they’ve both learned to enjoy, smooth as a skein of silk. “Time was, you knew not to insult anyone you might need to flatter later. ‘Specially when you don’t know if they’re going to grow wings or horns or whatnot. Serve ‘em all right if you ever figure out curses.” “I want to go back,” Mary says. “I want to go home, to where I came from, where there’s people like me. If I’m a fairy’s child I should be in fairyland, and no one would call me a freak.” “Aye, well, I’d miss you though,” her mother says. “And I expect there’s stupid folk everywhere, even in fairyland. Cruel folk, too. You just have to make the best of things where you are, being my child instead.” Mary learns to read well enough, in between the weaving, especially when her mother tracks down the traveling booktraders and comes home with slim, precious manuals on dyes and stains and mordants, on pigments and patterns, diagrams too arcane for her own eyes but which make her daughter’s eyes shine. “We need an herb garden,” her daughter says, hands busy, flipping from page to page, pulling on her hair, twisting in her skirt, itching for a project. “Yarrow, and madder, and woad and weld…” “Well, start digging,” her mother says. “Won’t do you a harm to get out of the house now’n then.” Mary doesn’t like dirt but she’s learned determination well enough from her mother. She digs and digs, and plants what she’s given, and the first year doesn’t turn out so well but the second’s better, and by the third a cauldron’s always simmering something over the fire, and Mary’s taking in orders from girls five years older or more, turning out vivid bolts and spools and skeins of red and gold and blue, restless fingers dancing like they’ve summoned down the rainbow. Her mother figures she probably has. “Just as well you never got the hang of curses,” she says, admiring her bright new skirts. “I like this sort of trick a lot better.” Mary smiles, rocking back and forth on her heels, fingers already fluttering to find the next project. She finally grows up tall and fair, if a bit stooped and squinty, and time and age seem to calm her unhappy mouth about as well as it does for human children. Word gets around she never lies or breaks a bargain, and if the first seems odd for a fairy’s child then the second one seems fit enough. The undyed stacks of taken orders grow taller, the dyed lots of filled orders grow brighter, the loom in the corner for Mary’s own creations grows stranger and more complex. Mary’s hands callus just like her mother’s, become as strong and tough and smooth as the oak and ash of her needles and frames, though they never fall still. “Do you ever wonder what your real daughter would be like?” the priest’s wife asks, once. Mary’s mother snorts. “She wouldn’t be worth a damn at weaving,” she says. “Lord knows I never was. No, I’ll keep what I’ve been given and thank the givers kindly. It was a fair enough trade for me. Good day, ma’am.” Mary brings her mother sweet chamomile tea, that night, and a warm shawl in all the colors of a garden, and a hairbrush. In the morning, the priest’s son comes round, with payment for his mother’s pretty new dress and a shy smile just for Mary. He thinks her hair is nice, and her hands are even nicer, vibrant in their strength and skill and endless motion.   They all live happily ever after. * Here’s another story: Gregor grew fast, even for a boy, grew tall and big and healthy and began shoving his older siblings around early. He was blunt and strange and flew into rages over odd things, over the taste of his porridge or the scratch of his shirt, over the sound of rain hammering on the roof, over being touched when he didn’t expect it and sometimes even when he did. He never wore shoes if he could help it and he could tell you the number of nails in the floorboards without looking, and his favorite thing was to sit in the pantry and run his hands through the bags of dry barley and corn and oat. Considering as how he had fists like a young ox by the time he was five, his family left him to it. “He’s a changeling,” his father said to his wife, expecting an argument, but men are often the last to know anything about their children, and his wife only shrugged and nodded, like the matter was already settled, and that was that. They didn’t bind Gregor in iron and leave him in the woods for his own kind to take back. They didn’t dig him a grave and load him into it early. They worked out what made Gregor angry, in much the same way they figured out the personal constellations of emotion for each of their other sons, and when spring came, Gregor’s father taught him about sprouts, and when autumn came, Gregor’s father taught him about sheaves. Meanwhile his mother didn’t mind his quiet company around the house, the way he always knew where she’d left the kettle, or the mending, because she was forgetful and he never missed a detail. “Pity you’re not a girl, you’d never drop a stitch of knitting,” she tells Gregor, in the winter, watching him shell peas. His brothers wrestle and yell before the hearth fire, but her fairy child just works quietly, turning peas by their threes and fours into the bowl. “You know exactly how many you’ve got there, don’t you?” she says. “Six hundred and thirteen,” he says, in his quiet, precise way. His mother says “Very good,” and never says Pity you’re not human. He smiles just like one, if not for quite the same reasons. The next autumn he’s seven, a lucky number that pleases him immensely, and his father takes him along to the mill with the grain. “What you got there?” The miller asks them. “Sixty measures of Prince barley, thirty two measures of Hare’s Ear corn, and eighteen of Abernathy Blue Slate oats,” Gregor says. “Total weight is three hundred fifty pounds, or near enough. Our horse is named Madam. The wagon doesn’t have a name. I’m Gregor.” “My son,” his father says. “The changeling one.” “Bit sharper’n your others, ain’t he?” the miller says, and his father laughs. Gregor feels proud and excited and shy, and it dries up all his words, sticks them in his throat. The mill is overwhelming, but the miller is kind, and tells him the name of each and every part when he points at it, and the names of all the grain in all the bags waiting for him to get to them. “Didn’t know the fair folk were much for machinery,” the miller says. Gregor shrugs. “I like seeds,” he says, each word shelled out with careful concentration. “And names. And numbers.” “Aye, well. Suppose that’d do it. Want t’help me load up the grist?” They leave the grain with the miller, who tells Gregor’s father to bring him back ‘round when he comes to pick up the cornflour and cracked barley and rolled oats. Gregor falls asleep in the nameless wagon on the way back, and when he wakes up he goes right back to the pantry, where the rest of the seeds are left, and he runs his hands through the shifting, soothing textures and thinks about turning wheels, about windspeed and counterweights. When he’s twelve–another lucky number–he goes to live in the mill with the miller, and he never leaves, and he lives happily ever after. * Here’s another: James is a small boy who likes animals much more than people, which doesn’t bother his parents overmuch, as someone needs to watch the sheep and make the sheepdogs mind. James learns the whistles and calls along with the lambs and puppies, and by the time he’s six he’s out all day, tending to the flock. His dad gives him a knife and his mom gives him a knapsack, and the sheepdogs give him doggy kisses and the sheep don’t give him too much trouble, considering. “It’s not right for a boy to have so few complaints,” his mother says, once, when he’s about eight. “Probably ain’t right for his parents to have so few complaints about their boy, neither,” his dad says. That’s about the end of it. James’ parents aren’t very talkative, either. They live the routines of a farm, up at dawn and down by dusk, clucking softly to the chickens and calling harshly to the goats, and James grows up slow but happy. When James is eleven, he’s sent to school, because he’s going to be a man and a man should know his numbers. He gets in fights for the first time in his life, unused to peers with two legs and loud mouths and quick fists. He doesn’t like the feel of slate and chalk against his fingers, or the harsh bite of a wooden bench against his legs. He doesn’t like the rules: rules for math, rules for meals, rules for sitting down and speaking when you’re spoken to and wearing shoes all day and sitting under a low ceiling in a crowded room with no sheep or sheepdogs. Not even a puppy. But his teacher is a good woman, patient and experienced, and James isn’t the first miserable, rocking, kicking, crying lost lamb ever handed into her care. She herds the other boys away from him, when she can, and lets him sit in the corner by the door, and have a soft rag to hold his slate and chalk with, so they don’t gnaw so dryly at his fingers. James learns his numbers well enough, eventually, but he also learns with the abruptness of any lamb taking their first few steps–tottering straight into a gallop–to read. Familiar with the sort of things a strange boy needs to know, his teacher gives him myths and legends and fairytales, and steps back. James reads about Arthur and Morgana, about Hercules and Odysseus, about djinni and banshee and brownies and bargains and quests and how sometimes, something that looks human is left to try and stumble along in the humans’ world, step by uncertain step, as best they can. James never comes to enjoy writing. He learns to talk, instead, full tilt, a leaping joyous gambol, and after a time no one wants to hit him anymore. The other boys sit next to him, instead, with their mouths closed, and their hands quiet on their knees.   “Let’s hear from James,” the men at the alehouse say, years later, when he’s become a man who still spends more time with sheep than anyone else, but who always comes back into town with something grand waiting for his friends on his tongue. “What’ve you got for us tonight, eh?” James finishes his pint, and stands up, and says, “Here’s a story about changelings.”

[catxsnow]

FIFTH TRY IS THE CHARM

Request: You my lovely are an incredible writer!! If you have the time, can I please request a Bruce Wayne x reader (who knows about his identity) where Bruce tries to propose throughout the day but keeps getting interrupted by Bat-emergencies and eventually the proposal just ends up being somewhere totally random like in the bat-mobile? Thank you x1000 in advance!! Can't wait to read more of your stuff!

Warning: fluff

A/N: I’m tired of being stuck at home 

Word count: 2.7k

Bruce Wayne wasn't necessarily the most romantic man.

For the media, he exuded romance, but in real life that often wasn't the case. Bruce was busy man between running Wayne Enterprises and his life as Batman. He had an insane family to take care of and had his own part in the Justice League. Bruce didn't have time to be romantic, even when it came to you.

You had been with him since Tim Drake had come into his life. You helped him raise his kids and even his own blood son. You knew Bruce better than anyone. For years you were his partner in life, his lover. He had dropped the playboy facade and became head over heels in love with you.

Throughout the years, he showed that he could be romantic. On times that Gotham was quite and he could trust Dick to take care of the city, he would take you half way across the world to sit on a beach and drink pina coladas all day. Sunset walks on the beach and surprise breakfast in bed. Bruce knew he could be romantic, and most times he wished he showed it off more often.

You deserved every ounce of cheesy romance in the world, and he hated that he couldn't give it to you.

So, Bruce did everything he could. He took you to the most lavish, expensive restaurants that he could find in Gotham just to see you all dressed up. When Gala's approached, he would buy you the most beautiful outfit that would outshine everyone. He spoiled you with riches without knowing that all you cared for was his company.

Bruce wanted to make things right by you, and the best way that he could do that, was to ask for your hand in marriage. Bruce loved you, he wanted the whole world to know that he loved you.

He had the perfect plan in his head. Take you for some spontaneous vacation on a hot desolate beach and ask you just as the sun turned the sea magnificent colours of purple and pink. You hadn't even made it half way across the country when he was called back for important bat business.

As disappointed as you were, you had never seen Bruce so distraught to be called back to a mission. Without thinking much of it, you let his odd behaviour slide thinking that he just wanted to treat you. In many ways, he had made it up to you that night - but not in the way that he had originally intended.

The second try involved taking you to your favourite restaurant in the city. It stood high off the ground and overlooked the Gotham. It was the few times that you understood why Bruce leaped from buildings to building, the view was amazing. He never understood why you liked that place so much until you told him.

Bruce sat across from you in the dim lit restaurant. One hand in his lap with a ring between his fingers and the other clasped with yours. A smile lit up his face like none you had ever seen before. He seemed happier than usual, and you couldn't figure out why. Nonetheless, you took full advantage of it.

If Bruce was happy, you were happy.

It didn't last long. Just as Bruce was about to speak, to finally ask you to marry him, your gaze overlooked the cloudy night sky. The infamous bat-signal shone bright. You sighed, aware of what this meant for him. Bruce squeezed your hand, wishing that he didn't have to go. This was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Stay safe, I love you," you kissed him before he rushed off. As much as you were used to him leaving you like this, it still hurt every time. It wasn't fair that the city always needed him, they didn't deserve him. Yet, he still came, because that was the type of man that he was. Bruce was Gotham's savior, just as he was yours.

But like every savior, when duty calls, they must attend.

It was hard sitting on the sidelines so many times when Bruce put his life in danger. You hated seeing him come home at night with new cuts and bruises. When particularly bad nights occurred and he came home broken and destroyed. It was impossible seeing the man you loved hurt all the time, and yet you dealt with it every day.

So, just as many of your dates went, you left to go home while Bruce was risking his life once again. You didn't know when he would return, or what shape he would be in when he did. However, as long as he came home, that was all that mattered.

Just as you expected, Alfred was down in the cave, monitoring all of Bruce's moves. You stood behind him, watching the heart monitor like your life depended on it. There was constant fear that one day it would stop. You hoped that day never to come.

><

After several days of Bruce trying to recuperate from yet another failed attempt to ask you to marry him, he devised a new plan. Although it wasn't as romantic as he wanted it to be, within the comfort of your own home would surely lead him to be able to finally ask you.

Bruce knew that one of your favourite times with him was when he was willing to stay those few extra minutes longer in bed with you in the mornings. You loved when he let loose and was allow himself to enjoy you cuddled into his side. Those few minutes never seemed like much, but he knew that they were so important to you.

He had thought about it the night before. A night filled with an extensive time to make you happy and feeling good. Bruce slept with the ring safely tucked away in his nightstand drawer and a smile on his face. The next day, he was going to ask you to marry him, finally.

You and Bruce laid naked in his sheets. Your leg was cast over his as he leaned up against the headboard. Absentmindedly, you traced the scars along his chest. Bruce could see why you liked these moments the most, it was the time that you truly felt like a normal couple rather than someone who saved the world every other week.

"Damian and I had a really nice time the other day," You told him. "He was telling me how he never baked cookies and so we decided to make them. It was nice, seeing him so mundane like that. I think he finally felt like a normal kid for just a little while."

That was another thing Bruce loved about you. You loved his kids. Damian might not have been your own, but you sure as hell treated him as if he was, just like you had everyone else. Even Dick and Jason, who you had no part in raising were always happy to see you. That was so important to him.

You hadn't noticed Bruce reach over to his bedside table until the phone on it began ringing. Bruce's hand dropped against his bed and a loud sigh escaped his lips. Of course, something had to ruin it again. Reluctantly, he picked up his cell and answered whoever was at the other end of the line.

"It's Dick," Bruce announced as he set his phone down on the table. The hand that wasn't resting on your waist dragged down his face. If Dick didn't sound so urgent over the phone, he wouldn't have even considered leaving you. However, when his son was in trouble, he knew h "I've got to go."

"It's okay, my love," You assured him, honestly. Bruce leaned down to kiss you, he was filled with longing to stay with you. As your hand cupped his face, he knew that if he kissed you any longer, he wouldn't be able to leave. Your touch was intoxicating, and he could never get enough of it. "Even if our moments together are brief, they make up for every second apart."

"You deserve better," Bruce sighed. Getting called away so many times like this just reminded him how little you truly got to be with him. It made him wonder if this was a sign that he shouldn't ask for your utter dedication. Maybe you did deserve better than him, you deserved someone that would be there for you at every turn.

The harsh realization struck him hard, but just as always, you were there to change his mind. You were the one who constantly reminded him of the bright side of thing when he struggled the most.

"I deserve better than a man who's willing to give his life to protect the world? Not many people would be willing to do what you do, Bruce," you sat up straighter in your bed so you were eye level with him. "If anything, It's me who doesn't deserve you. I told you before, I know what I signed up for. Sometimes you have to leave, and sometimes you get to stay."

"I love you," Bruce felt himself melt. It was one of those rare times that he forgot about the Bat, the heavy weight of his company. It was you, and only you that was in his heart and mind. "I promise I'll be back as soon as I can."

"As long as you come back."

><

Bruce was getting beyond frustrated. He had attempted once more, this time ending in the same result of being called into the line of duty before popping the question. That time had been when you had taken over the kitchen for the night to make dinner for your family that still lived in the Manor.

Bruce had found you, music playing softly in the background. He scared the ever living hell out of you as he silently wrapped his arms around your waist. As soon as you realized it was him, you leaned into his body and the kisses he was leaving on your bare neck. He pulled you into a dance, swaying around the large kitchen space.

As the song ended, Bruce toyed with the ring in his pocket once more, ready to ask again. Just as he was about to pull it out, Alfred had made a presence and informed him that he was needed once more. With a disappointed sigh and a chaste kiss, Bruce was off once more.

He didn't know if he could handle a fifth time of getting interrupted.

It seemed like the next seventy-two hours that followed you had been constantly apart. He barely got the chance to kiss you, much less ask if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. Bruce hated this wait, if it was acceptable to send it over text, he would have at this point.

He told himself, the next time he saw you for longer than ten minutes, he was going to ask. No matter where you were or what either of you looked like. Bruce was at his turning point, he needed to propose. The ring was burning a hole in his pocket and he couldn't stand it any longer.

You waited in the Batcave patiently for Bruce to get back. Damian was in Metropolis with Jon and you had told Alfred to take the night off. You could handle being the man in the chair for one night - and if anything went wrong he wasn't too far away. Since it was just the two of you, Bruce seemed to be a little more chatty than he normal was.

He would say how beautiful you looked sitting there, watching over him - even though he couldn't see you. His flirty side came out and you couldn't help but reminisce about the time that you had first met him. Bruce had made you swoon with his words, and it seemed that after all these years he still had the same effect.

Thankfully, the night had been quiet and Bruce didn't run into much trouble. That meant two things that you were happy about: he wouldn't come home with any deadly wounds and he would get to come back to you early. Bruce seemed eager to get back to you as well - you assumed it was just to get you in bed.

It didn't take long for the batmobile to pull up to a stop. Bruce leaped out with ease and pulled his cowl down. He felt as if he wasted this moment that he would never get another. Every opportunity had been taken from him and if there was one thing to know about Bruce Wayne, he always got what he wanted.

He approached the chair that you were stationed at, surprised that you hadn't made a move since his appearance. Bruce couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. Your arms were crossed on the computer and your head rested on them. Eyes sealed shut and heavy breaths passing your lips. You had fallen asleep.

Bruce nearly wanted to curse at the irony. As soon as you both had a moment alone, you had fallen asleep - ruining his chance once more. With a sigh, Bruce peeled of his Bat suit and carefully picked you up from the chair. Your head lulled against his chest and your knees tucked over his arms.

You stirred the second he took a step. Bruce paused, waiting to see if you were going to fall back asleep or wake up fully. It seemed to be the latter as your eyes popped open and met with his blues. A smile spread on your lips - you hand't meant to fall asleep but you were pleased by the way you had awoken.

"Hey, baby," Your voice was a little slurred from still waking up. You snuggled into his chest for a brief moment before requesting to be put down. Bruce careful did as he was told, gentle after a night of aggression. "Good night?"

"Better now that I'm with you," Bruce assured. You stretched your arms out and cracked your neck. Although you weren't sitting there for very long, it had made you stiff. Your eyes sealed shut with a big yawn - sleep still wanted to take you.

However, when you opened your eyes, you were no longer looking at Bruce's chest. He was knelt down on the ground, but that wasn't what caught your attention - it was the big, beautiful ring that was between his two fingers.

"Bruce!" You gasped. This didn't seem like the time, or place for him to be asking you to marry him. However, you didn't know about his struggles to get there, or that he felt as if he was running out of time. This moment, although not perfect, was exactly what he needed.

"(Y/N) (L/N), will you marry me?" Bruce asked. A massive grin spread across your face. You could feel your eyes burning with tears at the sheer joy that coursed through you. Marrying Bruce was always something you wanted, and now, you were going to get it. You were going to be his, now and forever.

"Yes!" You excitedly agreed. Bruce slipped the diamond on your ring finger. Without hesitating, he brought you into a kiss. His hands slipped down your sides until they grasped the bottom of your thighs. Bruce hoisted you up so your legs were tightly wrapped around his waist without even breaking the kiss.

Your fingers glided through his hair, tugging at the roots as he squeezed your butt. The distance from the cave to his bed seemed far too large. Bruce needed you, he needed to kiss every inch of your skin and devour you. This love that he had, it amplified the second that you said yes to marrying him.

Bruce might not have been the most romantic, but he sure as hell was going to try his hardest for the rest of his life with you.

[writer-k-pop]

Gambler

하지만 내 다른 부분은 사��들을 여기 두고 갈 수 없어. But the other part of me can’t leave the people here.

Description: A meeting to con Rowan Moore, a powerful and corrupt city leader, accomplished by Gang Leader Jeonghan and his crew. Which includes you and your crush (per se), Vernon. [Italicized parts are flashbacks of sorts] {Uh, honestly, not really sure how to describe this one. Only thing I can say is that it’s inspired by the complexity of “Six of Crows” and the aesthetic of Monsta X’s music video for “Gambler” hence the title.} Warnings: Swearing, mentions of a bombing, some suggestive comments (both negative and proper suggestive) Genre: idk what do genre this as... pure fiction (?), GangMember!Vernon x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5.7k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

You step up to the dealer's stool on one side of the poker table in a secluded corner of second floor of Jeonghan's casino, Obsidian. Picking up a brand new deck of cards, you break the seal and let the cards fall out into your hands. Your skin ignites as the smooth cards slide against your hands and the edges of each make themselves known to you.

"I'm not playing if she's dealing the cards." Rowan Moore glowers at you and your jaw clenches against the slew of words you want to spit at him. But you know better than to risk blowing the whole plan so you set down the deck of cards and wait for further instructions from Jeonghan.

You look to your left and hold Moore's gaze even as it goes from cold to ice cold. It is the gaze of one of the most corrupt men in the city. It's the gaze that got him where he is. If it were anyone else standing where you are, they would've felt a winter storm rush up their spine. But you are used to this type of malice. It's kind of a usual occurrence.

The others at the table, Jihoon, Soonyoung, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan, keep their expressions unreadable and their gazes on Moore. Except for Vernon who sits in between Soonyoung and Seungcheol. You could feel his eyes watching you but you don't turn towards him.

"We are having a business meeting." Jeonghan says, unwavering as Moore moves his gaze to him, "Business meetings in my casino are conducted at the tables and that means I decide who deals. And tonight, she deals." He finishes with a nod towards you as a signal for you to pick up the cards.

As you pick up the deck again, Moore stays quiet but lets out a frustrated puff of air.

"Get me a glass of the good stuff, would you, darling?" Moore leans back in his chair and asks one of the other waitresses with a voice dripping with demeaning acid that makes your stomach twist.

You look over at Vernon, finally, and he gives his eyebrow a small quirk. Silently asking if everything is okay. A small head tilt and offering him the deck to split is enough of an answer for him.

"What are we playing with only $10 chips?" Moore questions Jeonghan, leaning forward to rest his forearms behind his wall of poker chips and staring at Jeonghan who sits on the opposite end of the table from him. Effectively to your immediate right.

Straightening out the deck, you know the answer before Jeonghan answers Moore's question. All of this is part of the plan Jeonghan devised the minute he received word that Moore wanted to meet with him about a 'common enemy.'

"Here's the plan." Jeonghan spreads out a floor plan of Obsidian on the table in front of Seungcheol, Soonyoung, Jihoon, Vernon, Seungkwan, Dino, and you. "Moore owes me a large sum of money that he has no intention of paying back. We'll play him, listen to whatever he has to say, and steal his money as he walks out of Obsidian."

Seungkwan lifts a finger, "Isn't that the whole point of a gambling game?"

Jeonghan doesn't answer the younger one, only gives a sizable smirk.

"Right, right, there's more to this..." Seungkwan grumbles under his breath, "Be nice if you would clue us in on the masterplan."

You throw Seungkwan a disapproving look but Jeonghan just ignores the comment completely.

"What are we playing?" Soonyoung questions, intrigued from the second the word 'money' came out of Jeonghan's mouth.

"Hold 'Em." Jeonghan states, watching the others expressions for any negative changes.

"Where are we playing?" Jihoon probes further into the plan that Jeonghan has locked away in his mind.

Jeonghan shifts and points to one of the poker rooms in the back of the casino. "Allure."

"Who plays and who guards?" Vernon speaks up from next to you.

"Seungcheol, Soonyoung, Jihoon, you and I will play." Jeonghan lists off the characters, "Dino and Seungkwan will guard. Plus the regulars on the perimeters."

"And me?" You ask, crossing your arms over your chest, confused as to why he didn't mention you yet you are part of the meeting.

When Jeonghan answers, an excited shiver runs through your body but you don't miss how Vernon's body freezes at his words.

"You deal."

"Hold 'Em." Jeonghan answers Moore and you slide the dealer button to Seungcheol.

"Isn't that a little too simple for our minds?" Moore chuckles but it's not a true laugh.

"For you and I, yes." Jeonghan offers a smile, "But these other players aren't as complex as we are." He raises his eyebrows to see if Moore will challenge his choice and throws two of his poker chips in front of his pile.

You reach out and sweep the chips towards you as Moore tosses four at you for the big blind. The chips scatter across the table and out of the corner of your eye, you catch Vernon's fist clenching tightly. But having to ignore the specific jab at you, you sweep up the chips before dealing each player two cards.

The first round finishes quickly with Soonyoung (somehow) winning the pot. Now that the game has been established as 'fair,' it's time to move to the next step: conning Moore.

"You want her to rig the game?" Dino questions with confusion, "Can she even do that?"

You and Vernon cover up your scoffs with throat clearing and coughing.

Jeonghan smiles a little too wickedly, "Little secret for you newer boys. (y/n) can count cards like nobody's business and her sleight of hand is invisible even to me. It's the reason she's banned from playing in any of my casinos or clubs."

"It's also the reason I got hooked into his crew." You offered some extra information.

"You didn't have to stay after the first." Jeonghan quickly reminds you before giving you instructions to follow as the table's dealer, "Let the first game play out like any other dealer would let it. Following the first game, you will let us win a few, then Moore. Push and pull him. Entice him, (y/n)." He meets your gaze with eyes weighed down by the importance of his words, "Keep him at the table. Keep his focus on his luck."

"For what?" You ask, confused with what Jeonghan had planned.

But instead of hearing an answer from Jeonghan, Dino speaks up.

"A chance to sneak a hand into his suit pocket."

The second game starts and you watch the decided signs of each member on your side to tell you what cards they have. A system you each created together to make sure Moore wouldn't catch on. It was tested through the first game too and Moore still hasn't caught on, even though his eyes seem to wander around the table restlessly. After counting and switching the cards as you please, the second round has Seungcheol leaning forward to sweep up the pile of chips to his spot.

You eye Moore as you hand him his cards for the third round. This round you give to him.

The next game is also given to Moore.

"Now that we have a few games under our belt." Jeonghan speaks up as he rearranges his chip stacks to stand at the same height. "Let's discuss what you wanted to discuss."

Moore sighs, arranging his newly gained chips onto his stacks. His cockiness is starting to show. You catch the glint in his eye that shows he's confident he's figured out how to bluff out the other players.

'Early celebrator.' You think to yourself as you give Soonyoung the dealer button.

"Victor Huffman." Moore says the name with so much disgust it makes you wonder if he has swallowed acid.

At the mention of another powerful man, and another enemy, Jeonghan lets the corner of his cards snap onto the table and his eyes snap up to meet Moore's in the same second.

"What about him?" Jeonghan nearly growls out the question while Vernon and Seungcheol throw out the small and big blinds, respectively. You know that he and Huffman have a particularly nasty history but you don't know the details. No one does. It's one of the many things Jeonghan keeps under lock and key, in a bunker, 200 feet below his skin.

Your eyes flicker to Vernon and his eyes widen just the slightest, silently calling Moore a maniac for even speaking that name in Jeonghan's casino and presence. To cover up the smile threatening to appear, you lower your head slightly and deal three cards into the community hold in the center of the table.

"I want you to damage him." Moore says casually, ignoring the thick tension that he boiled up. "Take out a chunk of his men, give his finances a gut punch. Just something that will keep him quiet for a few months."

"And what would I receive in return?" Jeonghan asks, peeking at his cards again and though he is leaning back in his chair, you can tell his body is rigid against the emotions raging inside of him.

"I will pay you." Moore answers, "A sum a little more than the worth of the job."

"I fold." Jihoon breathes out and slides his cards towards you.

Wordlessly, you sweep up the cards and add them to the discard pile, intently listening to the conversation around you.

"I'll raise 6." Soonyoung says with a confident pout and slides out 6 chips in a stack. That is Soonyoung, always playing the high risks.

"Call." Vernon places his bet after a look at his cards.

Seungcheol, without taking his eyes off of Moore, simply slides his 6 chips into the center.

"You will excuse me if I don't trust your estimation of what this job'll cost me." Jeonghan comments and places his bet forward.

Moore lets out an empty chuckle that bounces around in your head. "You're smart not to." He states and slides his bet forward. "But I anticipated your doubt. And as much as I hate to admit it, I need Huffman down more than I need my money." He says while you discard a card before flipping a fourth into the community hold. "A contract for 800 million dollars."

The room goes silent. Jihoon eyes Moore up and down trying to distinguish if he's lying. Jeonghan is also trying to figure that out but he holds Moore's gaze, searching for the answer in his eyes. Soonyoung stares at his chips with wide eyes, Seungcheol looks between Jeonghan and Moore, and Vernon just simply slides his cards to you.

You give Vernon a confused look and he just shakes his head. He's folding.

"800 million." Jeonghan repeats the amount and breaks the silence. "For that amount, you want us to do more than something. You want somethings." He emphasizes the plural.

Moore smirks.

"Sir, your bet?" You refrain from using Soonyoung's name to keep your relationship with the men at the table unknown.

"You have a lovely voice." Moore comments, taking a tangent and a moment to look you up and down. "I wouldn't mind you calling me that someday." He sneers and your body tenses at what he's implying. Again, not new stuff but your body still reacts to it.

"Watch how you talk to my staff." Jeonghan spits out and throws his bet onto the table after Seungcheol.

Vernon has a look of murder in his eyes as he glares down Moore. You know he cares for you and though at times, some say it's more than normal, you know you care for him on the same level. But neither of you have had the guts to say or do anything about it.

Moore inhales and continues like his comment didn't happen. "I need you to take out half of his corn hold and a third of his cotton hold." He reveals to Jeonghan as you continue with the game. Dealing and taking cards.

"What's the time frame?" Jeonghan wonders, tapping his finger on his cards methodically.

"I need it done in a month." Moore says and Vernon jumps to his feet.

"Are you insane?" He asks, increduously.

Vernon and Jeonghan meet gazes for a second but it's only in confirmation that Jeonghan's plan is progressing.

"How are we going to get close enough?" Seungkwan asks. "Like great. Dino found out where he hides this master key but what good is it if we don't know how to get close to him. He only lets women and booze get close to that hairy chest of his."

"No." Vernon says in a low voice.

"No?" Jeonghan repeats his word with slight amusement in his tone.

"You are not letting (y/n) anywhere near Moore." Vernon explains and a sad smile reaches your lips.

You don't want to be the one to seduce Moore but you know if Jeonghan asked, you would be preparing for the role in a heartbeat.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, "(y/n)'s not seducing him. She's dealing. And no woman's seducing him." He comments, "One of you is going to get close." He eyes the males around the table.

"How?" Seungcheol asks.

"We'll instigate his rage." Jeonghan says, "He's got a sensitive temper when it comes to two things and two things only: terms of his deals and his gambling games. After the first few games, one of you will challenge him on everything he says, get him annoyed, pissed, irritated. That will fuel his agitation to losing hand after hand to the same person." He gives a look between you and Vernon. "And that person, I've decided, will be Vernon."

Vernon's first outburst is a sign to you to give Vernon the winning hand for the majority of the games. Or force Moore to fold on the rounds that Vernon doesn't win to keep the winning 'random.'

"You're going to let your man talk to me like that?" Moore lazily blinks towards Jeonghan, trying to damp down the igniting ember.

Jeonghan makes a show of shoving a hand in his pocket for emphasis on his words, "He's my demolition guy so if you want me to take this job, like I know you need us to, you will let him say whatever he pleases." Then he looks at Vernon, "But for now, I want to see how this game plays out. I'll raise 20." He states and slides a large stack of chips into the center. Vernon silently sits back down but not without channeling all the anger within himself to send Moore a glare that could cut through diamond.

"Call." Moore smirks, his love for gambling pushing forward.

For the rest of the game, Jeonghan stays mostly quiet as he ponders the details of what Moore is asking, only speaking to call out his bets.

Seungcheol wins the fifth round with a four of a kind.

The next game is won by Vernon and he also wins the next round. Along with Vernon's occasional snide comments, you can tell Moore is getting frustrated at his terrible luck. It's not a secret that Moore gets cocky when he plays because he claims he can read people and their ticks so he knows how to outplay any bluff. But tonight, his tricks won't work.

As you deal the 8th round, Jeonghan leans forward and rests his forearms on the edge of the table.

"A month?" He clarifies with Moore.

"A month." Moore nods as he takes his cards into his hands.

Jeonghan then turns to Vernon, "Is it possible?"

"If you want a spectacle, yes." Vernon answers, his voice retaining an edge. "If you want it done quietly, no."

Moore sighs, glancing at his cards and purses his lips, "I don't care how it's done. I just need it done and done within a month."

"What happens after a month?" Soonyoung asks the question that's been the elephant in the room since Moore first mentioned the timeline.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Moore smirks and throws in his bet.

"I'll do it." Jeonghan says and Moore's smirk grows wider. "Send over the contract in the morning."

"Glad to do business with you, J." Moore says and Jeonghan's eye gives the smallest of twitches at the nickname. So small that only you are able to catch it.

Turning back to the game at play, Moore's voice is more cheerful to hide his frustration at losing his money as he says, "Now that business is settled, shall we play a few more rounds for fun?"

Jeonghan gives a very fake, yet very believable, smile, "We've got nowhere else to be."

Jihoon wins that game and you watch carefully as Moore takes a deep breath to calm himself against the blow of another loss.

For the 9th game, you let Moore think he's winning the pot without a doubt, but the real winner ends up being Jeonghan.

By now, Moore's stack of chips are the lowest at the table and he doesn't have many games left in him.

"You might as well give up now, Moore." Vernon says, voice brute with amusement and pride as he rearranges his stacks of chips just for dramatic effect.

Through gritted teeth, Moore answers, "You never know how the tides can change."

"Or they'll swallow you whole." Vernon banters back nonchalantly with a touch of boredom. Another effort to push Moore's buttons. Dismiss him in front of others, especially other powerful people. In this case, Jeonghan.

Moore swallows hard and his hand curls into a tight fist. He's going to explode soon and you know it. Everyone at the table knows it. You see Jihoon, Soonyoung, and Seungcheol all shift slightly in their seats in preparation of the moment Moore explodes.

"What are we doing when he eventually explodes?" Soonyoung asks.

"Create enough confusion for Vernon to slide his hand in, grab and replace the key, and back out." Jeonghan says.

"That's (y/n)'s area of expertise." Seungkwan counters but you and Jeonghan answer him at the same time.

"I'm dealing."

"She's dealing."

And for once, you are kind of happy to not be in the center of one of Jeonghan's masterplans.

As everyone peeks at their cards, Vernon takes a couple glances at Moore's tight expression before commenting, "Luck still out of your grasp, Moore?" He chuckles in amusement, eyes actually lighting up at the cards that you deliberately gave to him.

"Be careful of the words you speak, kid." Moore spits and glowers at Vernon who ignores the gaze and just shrugs.

"What lie will you tell the wife this time when you come home without a large sum of money?" Vernon questions, tilting his head to the side and watching his chips as he tosses them onto the table. "Will you come clean about the gambling? Or will you lie and say it was spent on the pleasure houses down the street? Which will only break poor Verna's heart even more."

"You dickwad." Moore grunts, slams his cards onto the table, and rises to his feet. "Keep my wife's name out of your disgusting, immature mouth." He quickly stalks over to Vernon and Vernon is quick to his feet to meet the large body of Rowan Moore.

But he's not angry enough to require Jihoon, Soonyoung, and Seungcheol to step in and create the needed chaos. You look to Jeonghan with concern that the plan won't work. But this is Jeonghan's plan, he has back up plans upon back up plans upon back up plans.

Jeonghan closes his eyes and gives you a tiny nod, accompanied with a tinier smile just before Vernon gives the final blow needed.

"Why are you telling me this?" Vernon asks with curiosity, sitting in Jeonghan's office alone.

"We need Moore angry enough to make Seungcheol, Soonyoung, and Jihoon's intervention realistic." Jeonghan explains leaning back in his chair.

"So I'll use the information to pull that anger out of him." Vernon concludes.

Jeonghan gives him a smile and a snapped finger gun. "Precisely."

"What do you think Verna will do with the divorce papers when she finds out you broke your promise to her?" Vernon asks, staring hard at Moore's face. "What will you do when she leaves you?"

In a split second, Moore slaps Vernon across the face and you inhale sharply as Vernon's head snaps to the right. Seungcheol and Soonyoung push back Moore while Jihoon positions himself in front of Vernon in order to keep Vernon back.

A menacing chuckle comes from Vernon's mouth as he rubs the cheek that was hit. "You hit like a girl. I'm guessing much like your daughter."

You flinch at the unexpected mention of Moore's daughter. Jeonghan tries to keep women and children out of his conversations but women, more often than not, are men's trigger point. It's rare, though, that he'd allow the mentioning of children.

In a second, Vernon pushes past Jihoon as Moore 'easily' pushes past Soonyoung and Seungcheol (more like they let him pass by with feigned weakness but also believable enough strength). His eyes blinded by rage, he doesn't stop to consider what he's doing. Vernon and Moore tousle with each other, hands flying everywhere. Soonyoung, Jihoon, and Seungcheol's hands join in, trying to 'restrain' the two arguers.

Anybody would've have missed the moment Vernon slipped his hand into Moore's blazer pocket then slipped back out and into his own pocket. But you were the one who taught Vernon the sleight of hand he would need and you are watching so you see the move with crystal clear clarity.

Once the real key is placed in Vernon's pocket, you move onto your role: diffusing and ending the game play.

"Gentlemen!" You yell with the authority of cancelling out any money won or lost. The five men stop their frenzied hand fight and look to you. Jeonghan just lazily looks up from his crossed arms. "If you would untangle yourselves and collect your chips. My table is now closed since you decided to make such a scene." You scold them with a scowl of disgust that's mainly directed at Moore.

Moore immediately untangles himself from the others and faces you. "I apologize. If you will, just a few more games." He bargains. "I will pay you the extra."

You shake your head and step down from the stool, "I've already closed." You tell him then add, "And if you're thinking of looking for another dealer, the casino's dealers have already been sent home. Tonight’s a special holiday for us, you see."

"What kind of bullshit is that?" Soonyoung scrunches his face up in confusion, "We don't have holidays."

"Moore doesn't know that." You answer for Jeonghan before turning to the man himself, "What holiday are we observing?" You ask.

Jeonghan meets your eyes with a soft gaze, "The anniversary of Obsidian's bombing."

He doesn't finish the sentence but your mind does.

"My first job with Jeonghan and the only one he failed."

The reason you stayed with Jeonghan even though he shredded your debt to him in the aftermath of the bombing.

"What kind of boss sends his income home on a money making night?" Moore laughs as if the whole day is a joke to him. His laugh only makes you want to drive a knife into his chest.

"The kind that knows the damage your partner caused to my innocent patrons." Jeonghan rises to his feet and stares down Moore hard.

Moore swallows under Jeonghan's gaze. If Moore's gaze was ice cold earlier, Jeonghan's, right now, is burning so cold that you're pretty sure he's giving dry ice a run for its money.

"Is it already that night of the year?" Moore asks you through a tight voice.

You look down at your watch, "In 20 minutes, it will be the exact minute." You inform him and Moore's demeanor falls a little.

He reaches up to pat the left side of his chest and you hold your breath incase he finds anything amiss. But with a satisfied sigh, he feels the decoy and lowers his hands back to his sides.

"Another day, I will return to win back my money." He vows to Jeonghan before he looks at Vernon. "And keep my wife's name out of your god forsaken mouth."  

"With pleasure." Vernon responds with disgust, his cheek still red from the slap he received.

Moore scoops up his tray of chips and leaves the room. His guards undoubtedly joining him the second he steps outside the room.

Seungkwan and Dino enter the room as the waitress and waiter assigned to the room leave and for a moment there is a moment of anticipating silence. Then Vernon slowly slides the key out of his pocket and hands it to Jeonghan.

Soonyoung shouts in happiness and hugs Jihoon who tries his best to escape the tight embrace. "We got the key!" He says cheerfully and Seungkwan and Dino high five each other.

Jeonghan just looks down at the key in his hand and smiles. The electronic key that will give him access to every single one of Moore's financial accounts.

"Tomorrow we'll move the money around and you each will have your share." Jeonghan announces to the room and pockets the key.

"What about the job for Moore?" Jihoon asks, successfully escaping Soonyoung's arms.

Jeonghan's lips quirk upward, "Oh, we'll do it. But we won't be doing it out of obligation to a contract. I'd also like to see Huffman on his knees for a change." He says in a voice that resembles a snake, cunning and scary.

This reminder of how ruthless and scary Jeonghan can be is the only thing that sends a shiver up your spine.

Jeonghan walks towards the door with Seungcheol behind him. As Seungcheol opens the door for him, he pauses and turns back.

"Not a word of any of this." He says and the threat is unspoken. It doesn't need to be spoken. It's understood on a bone chilling level what will happen if anyone talks about the jobs you do.

You all nod your heads gravely and Jeonghan exits the room, Seungcheol following him out the door.

Tugging at your stiff tie, you step away from the table and head towards the door. "I'll see you weirdos later." You tell the others and go in search for a few cans of beer and the solitude of the roof.

You raid the kitchen and pluck three beers from one of the many fridges before finding your way to the rooftop. Pushing open the heavy door, you welcome the dark of the night and the glow from the city around you. As you turn towards your normal spot, you're surprised to see a silhouette of a man against the city lights.

Recognizing the person, you inch forward, confused, "Vernon?" You call out his name and he turns toward you.

"Hey." Vernon answers you. In the dim light and shadow displayed on his face, you can see his cheek is still red but not as angry of a red as before.

"How's your cheek?" You ask, grimacing at the memory of having to watch the assault and setting the beers on the ledge.

He lightly touches his cheek, "It'll be sore and red for a while but I think the reward will be worth it." He comments.

"Here." You hand him one of the still cold beers. He stares at the beer in confusion and you roll your eyes before pressing the substitute ice pack to his cheek. "It'll help it."

"Right." He breathes out and brings his hand up to replace yours in holding the beer in place.

Below you, the city is bustling with sane people leaving the clubs and casinos, taking their loses in stride. Each building shines with the lights of a many tiny spotlights, casting out the moonlight before it can even get close to the ground.

"Three beer night?" Vernon questions you, eyeing the two beers left on the ledge.

"You try standing the whole night with a stick stiff suit and a tie noosed around your neck." You sass at him.

"You didn't seem uncomfortable." Vernon chuckles, as you open a beer and take a large chug of it.

You grimace as the alcohol slithers down your throat, "I'm good at faking it." You tell him. "You did good, sleighting Moore." You compliment his handiwork. "If you keep learning, you could get pretty good."

Vernon lowers his beer can from his cheek in thought, "Nah, I think I'll leave that to you. I didn't like how I couldn't see what I was doing." He holds out his hand and flexes it before opening his can, "I can see the pieces being connected when I work up a demolition explosive. Sleight of hand takes that away." Then he shivers, "Oh, no thank you."

You laugh and Vernon looks over at you, loving the way your laugh makes yours eyes squint and your cheeks bunch up.

"Alright, you stick with demolition." You tell him. "Besides, if you took over my role, I may have to leave and find a new boss to sleight for." You joke but Vernon's face falls at the mention of you leaving.

"When you get your share, will you leave?" He asks, facing back towards the street. He doesn't want you to leave but he's also heard you speak of the possibility over the last few days.

You sigh, both hands clasping the beer can, "I don't know yet." You say, facing the city lights like he is. "Part of me thinks it's time to leave, that I've paid my debt. But the other part of me can't leave the people here."

Vernon chuckles softly, "Everyone would miss you." He pauses for a second before continuing, "I would miss you."

"I wouldn't leave right away." You say and lean you head against his shoulder, "I still have to stay for the Huffman job. But it might be my last."

"Is there anything that would make you stay?" Vernon wonders, afraid to move and have your touch leave his skin.

You study the sky for a second before answering, "I don't know."

"Is there anything I could do that would make you stay?" He reiterates his previous question. In his voice, he tries to make you understand how much he doesn't want you to leave. That he'd do almost anything for you to stay.

"I don't know if anyone could do anything that would make me stay." You tell him and sit up to take another sip.

"Jeonghan could." Vernon grumbled under his breath.

Your ears perk up and you're not sure you head him correctly, "What?"

"Uh, n-nothing." He stutters and avoids meeting your eyes.

You gasp as you realize you had heard him correctly, "You're jealous!" You accuse and point a finger at him.

“I am not." Vernon defends himself, stepping back.

"Yes, you are!" Your fluttering heart makes giggles bubble into your throat.

"Seriously, I'm not." He repeats, holding up his hands but you read the jealousy on his face like the front page of the morning news paper.

"Demolition Vernon is jealous?" You say, unable to keep the giggles at bay. "Jealous of Jeonghan?"

At the name, Vernon steps forward and covers your mouth with his free hand.

"Don't say his name and that word together." He says lowly, "Do you want me to die?" He questions you with a quirked eyebrow.

You look between his eyes and reach up to lower his hand from your mouth, which comes away easily.

"He wouldn't kill you. Maybe disfigure you in some way, but not kill." You say, softly, realizing how serious this situation actually is, "As much as he hates to admit it, he needs every single one of us for any and all jobs he pulls. And he's not about to waste time looking for and training another just because of a word."

"Why did you stay with Jeonghan?" Vernon asks, not moving away, his face inches from yours.

You swallow and keep your gaze on his eyes, though you're tempted to peek at his lips. "Jeonghan and I both blame ourselves for the bombing that happened here. We both missed things that we shouldn't have missed. And because of our mistakes, people died." You explain, flashes of the terror replaying in your mind. "Jeonghan shredded my debt that night but I couldn't leave until I corrected the wrong I made."

"Have you corrected it yet?" He asks in a near whisper and a hand loops around your waist.

"I don't know yet." You answer through the pounding of your heart.

He is this close to you. This close to being yours.

"When will you know?" He questions, inching closer, eyes still locked onto yours.

You blink, "Someday." You are barely able to speak the word.

The corner of Vernon's mouth twitches, "So that means you'd stay until that day."

Unable to speak because of his closeness, you just nod once.

"Then that means I can give you a reason to stay once that day comes." He states and before you can answer, his lips crash onto yours.

You both drop your beer cans, ignoring as they collide with the ground and spill around your feet. Kissing him back with the emotions that are finally being set free, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. He does the same with his arms around you waist.

When you pull away, you're still pressed against each other and out of breath. But the sparkle in his eyes is all you can focus on.

The bright excitement that you've only seen when he finishes a complex explosive. A bubble of pride swells your heart that you're the only person who's able to pull that brightness out of him.

"Just one reason?" You question his earlier statement and tilting your head to the side.

Vernon lets out an amused puff of air, "I can give you several reasons to stay, if you want." He says before kissing you again.

"These better be some very good reasons if I'm to give up a lifetime of lazy days and millions of dollars." You tell him and play with his tie.

He presses you closer to his chest and lets his lips graze yours, "Oh, they will be very, very good reasons, (y/n). Don't you doubt that."

[adenei]

Summer of Jily Week 4

It's week 4 for @efkgirldetective's Summer of Jily challenge! You sure did send me for a loop with this one, but I've managed to keep the one-shots turned multi chap story going!

This week's prompts: Picking Berries and "I know I kissed you before, but I didn't do it right."

Read on AO3

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

James didn’t sleep at all that night. He couldn’t stop thinking about the carnival. His thoughts shifted between being mad at Sirius for winning that damn prize and presenting it to Lily—that was his stupid, cheesy plan that his best mate had hijacked—and the Ferris wheel ride.

About saving your letters or waiting for you to ask me out?

How could he have been so thick? And how is it that he keeps royally mucking things up? He’d had the perfect opportunity to kiss Lily right there on the ride, but then it had to move again, and he’d gotten sidetracked at the feeling of flying on a muggle contraption.

Hadn’t he come along with the boys to crash the girls trip so he could spend more time with Lily? He’d devised the perfect opportunity to sweep her off her feet, and he swore to himself he would only ask her out if she made it blatantly obvious that she wanted him to. As much as it killed him, he’d rather not lose her friendship over pressing her one too many times.

But now, she had made it clear that she was waiting for him to make a move, and what does he do instead? Lets her walk away after the sunrise, hits her with a ball by the lake, and then avoids her throughout the entire carnival until their friends force them to share a compartment on that bloody ride.

He’d had the perfect opportunity to kiss her right there, to ask her to be his girlfriend, and what does he do instead? Freezes. James Potter, master of smooth pick-up lines, carefree, easy-going Gryffindor heartthrob (says the Hogwarts gossip circle, not that he pays attention to any of that—why would he when he’s got his heart set on one girl?) freezes.

Well, he didn’t totally freeze. After they’d apparated back to the cabin, he and Lily were the last two in the sitting area before they went to bed. He walked her to the door of the girl’s room and kissed her on the cheek before bidding her goodnight.

It had taken all of his willpower to not pull her into his arms and snog her senseless after her confession earlier that evening. Yet, after seeing her disappointed face before she shut the door to the bedroom, he wished he had. She’d thrown his entire game off, and he needed to fix it before he lost his chance with Lily for good.

Resigning himself to the fact that he was awake to see another sunrise, James dragged himself out of bed and picked up his glasses on the nightstand before stepping around the mattress on the floor where Peter currently snored away. He grabbed the nearest shirt he could find and threw it on before slipping out of the bedroom.

It was lighter out than he was expecting, meaning he’d probably missed the sunrise. The boys preferred to sleep in pitch black, but the spell they cast on the window the night before was fading, allowing the daybreak to sift through and consequently throwing off his sense of time. He started the coffee pot and leaned against the counter while he waited for the pot to brew.

Caffeine would be necessary to stay awake today, or maybe he could sneak a nap in at some point. Hell, maybe he’d be able to convince Lily to join him for said nap. He could think of plenty of things they could get up to whilst they were in bed together. James let his mind wander to thoughts of getting to know her in a more intimate setting. The kind that he’d often wank to when he needed a release.

The rich smell of dark roast wafted through the living area. James forced his thoughts away from images of Lily writhing beneath him as he reached for a mug. He only barely heard the click of a door as he pulled the pot off to pour himself a cup.

“Another early morning?”

James looked up to see Lily standing there, her hair messy from sleep. She ran her fingers through it in an attempt to comb it out. The green of her eyes were barely visible under still somewhat droopy eyelids. Something stirred within him, and despite the fact that he was only seventeen, it was a view he knew he could get used to.

“That would imply I slept. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, but I couldn’t resist the smell of coffee. Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Peter’s snoring reached new levels last night.”

The lie slipped off his lips with ease, although it wasn’t altogether convincing. A simple Muffliato charm would have allowed him the peace and quiet he needed to fall asleep. Her skeptical look wasn’t lost on him as he absent-mindedly began fixing the cup he’d poured with the amount of milk and sugar Lily preferred. He wasn’t aware he was doing it until he handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said. “Since when do you know how I take my coffee?”

“Come on, Evans, you don’t think I’ve noticed? Some things stick after eating breakfast with someone over the last year.” James smirked.

He grabbed another mug from the cabinet and poured his own cup without adding anything to it. James blew over the dark brown liquid to help cool it off as he watched Lily take a minuscule sip of her own.

“That’s fair. I still don’t know how you can drink yours black.”

“Some say I’m sweet enough on my own.” The quip was automatic as Lily laughed at his humor.

Merlin, her laugh is infectious. James swore the reason he said half of the stuff he did was so he could hear her laugh.

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

The question came from nowhere, but the early morning was so peaceful that he wanted to experience it with her, preferably hand in hand.

“Sure.”

They left their coffee mugs abandoned on the Formica as they headed to the door and slid on their shoes. Lily grabbed a jacket off the coat rack and zipped it up halfway. James closed the door quietly behind him then led her over to the trail he and the boys explored yesterday. The path wasn’t terribly long, but it ended up in a quiet and secluded area where the lake met pebbled terrain.

“So, was the dolphin a good sleeping partner?” James’s voice cut through the light layer of morning fog.

Lily chuckled. “I don’t know, I let Marly sleep with him instead.”

“Ah, Sirius will be heartbroken if he learns of your betrayal.” His words were meant to be a joke, yet they didn’t come across as lighthearted as he’d hoped.

“Well, good thing you won’t tell him. Right?” Lily’s questioning eyes made James’s heart skip a beat.

“I suppose I can keep your secret, Evans, but it’ll cost you.”

“Oh? And what might that price be, Potter?”

The green of the trees and shrubbery only enhanced the sparkle that glinted in her eyes. James wondered if she was testing him. Shouldn’t she know by now that he never backed down from a challenge?

“Ditch your friends and spend the day with me instead.”

“Like a date?”

“Yes, Evans, like a date.”

“Well, good thing we’re getting an early start. Now we can make the most of the day.”

James grinned at Lily’s acceptance as they continued down the trail.

They were nearly at the clearing by the water when Lily stopped, causing James to turn around. “Is this the path you and the boys were on yesterday afternoon?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, when Mary asked if you found anything interesting, you said no.”

“Because there isn’t…”

“That’s not true! Look at the blackberry bushes over there!”

James’s head turned to the direction Lily was pointing at, and sure enough, there were several bushes, low to the ground and full of clumps of blackberries. Lily bent down to pick a few off the branches.

“How do you know they’re blackberries and not nightshade or something?”

“Honestly, Potter, did you not pay attention when Sprout taught that unit on edible plants and where to find them in the wilderness?”

“No? Guess I was a bit distracted.”

“Nightshade grows off the stem in one circle. They look more like blueberries, except they’re shinier and darker. Blackberries have all the little bumps on them like this. Almost like a raspberry, but a different color.”

Lily picked a handful of berries during her explanation and stood when she was finished. James saw her holding them delicately in an effort to stop them staining her hands. Using her forefinger and thumb, she picked one up and held it to James’s mouth.

“Try it.”

James opened his mouth and let her place the berry on his tongue. He locked eyes with her as his lips closed around her fingers. An explosion of flavor bursts on his tongue as he bit down on the fruit. The tartness caused him to squint and pucker his lips slightly. Lily smiled at his reaction as she popped a couple berries in her mouth.

She was right—they tasted way better when picked fresh. He held out his hand for more, and she gave him a couple to munch on as they continued walking through the woods. James’s brain was fixated on the way she fed him as his feet moved him forward. Their hands grazed against each other, and James held on after the third bump. He felt her fingers intertwine with his as their steps aligned on the dirt path. As they inched their way toward the rocky clearing of the lake, a plan formed in his mind, and he knew exactly what he needed to do to match Lily’s brazenness of the night before and kick off their day-long date properly.

“Oh, wow,” she whispered as the trail gave way to the stunning view of the calm water ahead of them. The fog had settled across the still water, preventing them from seeing the other side of the lake.

“Lily—”

“Okay, the berries were one thing, but hiding this view from us? How—” Lily froze mid-sentence as comprehension dawned on her. “Did you just call me Lily?”

“Yeah, I did, but please go on about how we didn’t tell you about this.”

“No, I think I’d rather hear what you have to say instead.”

“You sure? I know how much you love being able to prove us wrong.”

James paused, waiting for Lily’s reaction. He loved riling her up like this. The way he alluded to something but then held it just out of her grasp to ensure that she truly wanted to know what he had to say. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he waited.

“What do you mean, am I sure? Would I have asked you to tell me if I wasn’t?”

He thought about keeping up with the banter, but he was tired of waiting.

“That’s fair. Look, I know I kissed you before—y’know, last night—but I didn’t do it right, and I’d like to make up for that right now if you’ll let me.”

There was a sharp intake of air, and if James could pat himself on the back for catching Lily off-guard, he would. But she regained her composure before shooting a challenging look in his direction.

“Since when does James Potter ask permission before kissing a girl? I thought he—how did Sirius put it? Sets his eyes on what he wants and goes for it?”

James chuckled and cringed at the same time, remembering how Sirius explained James’s intentions during fifth year.

“Well, as true as that may be, I still try to be a gentleman about it. I’d never make an unwanted advance if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Interesting, considering I thought I made it clear what I wanted last night.”

Were his eyes playing tricks on him, or did Lily just take a tiny step forward?

“Is that so?”

“It is. And it sounds like you’re stalling.”

“Please, Evans, you’d know when I’d be stalling.”

“What are you waiting for, then?”

The words barely escaped her mouth, James didn’t waste any more time as his hands lifted to cup Lily’s face. He leaned in and captured her lips with his, the tangy taste of the berries still lingering on her mouth. Everything about Lily’s lips were soft and inviting as her hands found a home on his lower back. He felt her mouth open slightly as her teeth grazed his bottom lip, eliciting a small moan from his mouth.

James deepened the kiss as his tongue swiped across her lips. Her hands pushed him closer as her mouth widened, inviting him to explore. A quack in the distance was the only thing that reminded them where they were, as James slowly broke away. She was more beautiful than he remembered, with her lips swollen from his kiss and the dazed look of bliss on her face.

“Well, I’m used to ending the date with a kiss, not starting it,” her words were breathless.

James chuckled at Lily’s words. “Am I to take that as a good or bad thing?”

“Good. Very good.”

“And just imagine, we’ve got the whole day ahead of us now.”

“This is true. Should we head back and get ready for the rest of the day?”

“Sounds brilliant.”

James had no idea what they were going to do for the day, but he planned on making the most of their time spent together. Nothing could go wrong.

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya chapter 19: Lying Hearts

“How can anyone stand to live in a city like this?” Nami grumbled as the light glinted off of yet another painfully white building. True, the setting sun had lessened the glare slightly, but after an entire afternoon of it, she was developing quite the headache, even with the sunglasses.

Law shrugged and continued walking at a leisurely pace, still unaffected. “I’m sure if you’re born somewhere like this it’s easier, but people can learn to tolerate almost anything given enough time, I suppose.”

“Do you think you’d be able to learn to tolerate bread?”

“I said almost. I’d sooner die of starvation.”

She shook her head with a chuckle but kept pace, following his lead. Instead of heading straight back to the submarine, Law had insisted on a few detours through Atifakuto—partially in case anyone had grown suspicious and decided to follow them, but also to scope out potential escape routes under the guise of sightseeing. Nami, for her part, had been exceedingly helpful in this, mapping out in her head which stairways lead where and pointing out various places to hide. If Law found her compliance suspicious, he didn’t say anything; it was in their best interest to work together, especially with some potentially valuable goods on the line, so her behavior was easily rationalized.

For her, however, there was more than artifacts or even belli at stake. This heist had to go well. She needed Law to trust her enough to open up about why he was so obsessed with Amber Lead. Perhaps if he could do that, she wouldn’t even have to sneak into his quarters to take a look at the ledgers. She could just ask and he’d let her in like a rational human being.

Of course, in order for either of their plans to succeed they needed to know where the vase was. Luckily, the rest of the Hearts hadn’t been sitting idle on the submarine. They’d been investigating every possible gallery, art collector, museum, and auction house their prize could possibly be at. The second they had a lead, they’d call on the mini Den Den Mushi.

Until then, though, Law and Nami were forced to meander about the city, planning and killing time.

“So, while we wait for some intel, what else are you going to buy me?” she asked as they wandered the fourth level. They’d passed quite a few shops, and while most had stocked dull business suits similar to the last store, Nami felt her bags were tragically light. They were in a beautiful-if-blinding city, and she was walking away with only one outfit? What a travesty.

Snorting dismissively, Law glanced down at her with a clear look of are you kidding me? on his face. “Nothing. I told you I was only getting you one outfit. I’m your captain, not your sugar daddy.”

“You know, for a man who wants this little job to go well, you’re not putting in nearly the effort you should,” she quipped, a sly smile on her lips, eyelashes fluttering prettily. “I’m supposed to look professional and put together if I’m gonna pull off being your lovely assistant. That means I need matching shoes and accessories. Maybe a cute leather purse or briefcase to really sell it.”

“If you want those so badly then buy them yourself. Or,” he smirked, halting his pace to turn around and catch her chin between his fingers, tilting her head up towards him as he stepped in close enough so she could feel his body heat, “you earn them by doing certain favors for daddy.”

Her cheeks only pinkened a little at his innuendos while she stuck out her tongue and shoved him away. Last night’s dream wasn’t quite as close to the forefront of her mind anymore, but that didn’t mean his smirk didn’t do things to her she’d rather ignore. “Pass. You should know by now that it takes more than clothes for me to play nice.”

“Mmm, I do. That’s what makes it so much fun,” he purred, gold eyes glinting in wicked amusement. One gloved hand was shoved into his pocket while his free arm slung itself casually over her shoulder as he continued stalking along the fastidiously clean road. “But since you’re currently insisting on being a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man to provide for her, you can instead borrow some shoes from Ikkaku, and she might still have a pair of glasses or something from the time she pretended to be a receptionist at a Naval base.”

Brown eyes widened at his statement. Not because he was suggesting that she borrow clothes or anything, but the bombshell he’d just casually dropped in light of her recent discovery.

“Was this for one of your plans?” she asked, shoulders stiffening.

He shrugged like it was no big deal, though he did give her a curious glance at the way she tensed beneath him. “Yeah. We needed someone on the inside, and they’d put out an advertisement for an attractive female in her early twenties. It’s not like Uni or Penguin could do it.”

“But…holy shit, Law, are you serious?” she hissed, dragging him over to an unoccupied part of the street behind a solitary gated tree so she could scold him in private. There weren’t too many people about, but the last thing they need was to get unwanted attention because they’d caused a scene, even if Law totally deserved to get chewed out at the top of her lungs for being such an asshole. “Ikkaku has Marine brothers who want her dead and you sent her into the lion’s den? What the fuck?!”

Caught off-guard by her anger, Law’s eyebrows shot up briefly before furrowing. “She told you about them?”

Damn. In her shock and anger on her friend’s behalf, she’d forgotten that this was a subject she wasn’t technically supposed to know. But instead of admitting guilt, she doubled down and threw on her best poker face.

“Yeah. She told me,” she lied easily. Too easily. It came as naturally as it had back in the days she’d been working under Arlong, getting close to pirates by lying through her teeth and then robbing them blind. How many crews and captains had she deceived before Luffy? Nami had honestly lost count, but once she’d joined up with the Straw Hats, lying to a supposed ally hadn’t been quite as instinctual.

But this isn’t Luffy, and Law’s keeping way more secrets than I am, she rationalized. It’s just a little white lie anyway. He’d be way more pissed at Shachi and Penguin for telling me. I’m looking after those guys.

Law’s expression hardened, and for a moment she wondered if he’d seen through her bluff. She didn’t think she’d gotten too rusty in the lying department, but Law was smart and distrusting in general, so she couldn’t quite tell. Trepidation hung heavy in the air as she waited for him to speak, mind going a mile a minute coming up with new lies and explanations to appease him. Worse came to worst, she could throw the guys under the bus, even if she didn’t really want to, but they were his best friends, so Law would doubtlessly be more forgiving towards them, right?

Thankfully, it seemed his anger came from a completely different place, as he snarled quietly through clenched teeth, “Nami-ya, I am, as you have pointed out rather frequently in the past, a control freak. Do you really think I would devise a plan that required sending my top mechanic into a Marine base if there was even a chance she could be recognized? Especially by her utter shit of a brother?”

She flinched at the vitriol in his voice. It seemed she’d touched a nerve, and unless she wanted to lose all the progress she’d worked for, she knew it was best to back down. “Sorry. You’re right.”

“I’ll accept your apology if you tell me what prompted her to tell you,” he stated, crossing his arms. “It’s not information she makes widely known, even to those who are permanent members of my crew.”

Well. At least this was easy enough to justify, and she’d be doing both Law and Ikkaku a favor, right? Sure, the guys would obviously tell him later, but being the first to warn him might earn her a few more crumbs of trust. “There was an article in the paper about Marine reinforcements coming to the Grand Line. Ushi was interviewed. He seemed pretty intent on taking down the Heart Pirates.”

Law froze, his frown deepening into a dark sneer. The tic in his jaw and the way his fists clenched reminded her of his reaction to Ikkaku having been attacked on Grimm. “That fucker will stay away from Ikkaku if he’s got any brains in him.”

“You’re pretty protective of her,” she said. Sure, he’d perhaps phrased his defense in a way that implied his priority was the plan, it was clear from the hiss in his voice that Ikkaku’s safety had been genuinely considered.

The brim of his hat hid his eyes as he stated, “I’m protective of all my crew. She’s just…it’s hard to find submarine engineers, let alone ones as skilled as her. Ikkaku’s hard to replace.”

Well that stinks to high heaven of bullshit, she thought. Sure, the Surgeon of Death had a rightly-earned cruel reputation, but he’d shown time and again his crew meant a lot to him. Stepping in close, she used her finger to lift his hat enough to see his expression unobstructed. “Is that why you let her sass you? Because if she walked you’d be dead in the water?”

The gold orbs glared down at her, though the held no heat. “Everyone on the crew is a vital component. Like gears in a well-oiled machine. You’ve gotta take care of them to make sure they don’t break.”

When Nami merely raised a disbelieving eyebrow, he sighed, body deflating slightly. “Look, Nami-ya, everyone on my crew, we’ve all got shit in our pasts. Some have overcome it. Some still carry the scars. Ikkaku…hers is one of the few that’s actively still trying to get her. So yeah, maybe I’m a bit more protective, but it’s for a damn good reason.”

Ok, now that was a fair point. “I’m surprised you haven’t just killed him.”

“Oh, I want to,” he snarled. “No brother should try to hurt their siblings. They’re supposed to look after them. The only reason Ushi-ya still draws breath is because Ikkaku begged me to spare his pathetic life.”

It suddenly dawned on Nami that, despite his criticizing Luffy for not being more bloodthirsty, Law was…surprisingly merciful in his own ways, too. He didn’t murder Ikkaku’s brother, despite having clear reason to, just because she asked. He rescued Jean Bart from a life of slavery despite not knowing him. And while she didn’t fully understand the Ope Ope no Mi’s powers, she wondered if his cuts didn’t draw blood because he didn’t want them to?

She wasn’t sure if he had a complexity addiction or if he genuinely wanted to minimize bloodshed, but once again another side of the incredibly fascinating man had been revealed.

Taking a deep breath to calm his anger, he gave Nami a sadistic smile. “Doesn’t mean I let him off the hook with a sternly-worded warning, though. Wanna know what I did to him the last time we met?”

Nami turned a bit green as she remembered Jinzo’s still-beating heart in his hands. Complex and caring towards his crew or not, he was still a twisted bastard. “Fuck no!”

Briefly he pouted at not getting to regale her with the gory details before shrugging. “Pity. It was quite the eventful evening. In fact, it was also the night of mine and Drake-ya’s first kiss.”

“How the hell are those two things connected?!”

“Well, I had to distract him somehow. He was guarding my poor mechanic like a dragon would a virtuous princess.”

Before she could demand more details, or even snort at the idea of Ikkaku being virtuous, the sound of the mini Den Den Mushi reached their ears, interrupting the conversation.

Looking around to make sure there weren’t any eavesdroppers, Law pulled out the little snail phone and clicked down on the top. “Guessing you’ve got something for me?”

“I do,” the snail answered, and Nami recognized the faint accent that indicated they were speaking to Cousteau. “Only one place that specializes in North Blue history. Jubilee & Atlas Antiques. It’s an auction house and gallery on the fifth level, a block away from the Elevate Deliverer Restoration Church.”

“Well that’s a needlessly long name,” he quipped, rolling his eyes. Mentally, Nami had to agree, though it also sounded vaguely familiar. “At least that makes it easier to find. Anything else I should know? Other landmarks, nearby guard stations, that sort of thing?”

There was a moment of hesitation before Cousteau replied, “No station, though there would probably be at least a few guards wandering around at night. It’s, uh, right by a fountain. Blessings from the White City.”

Nami’s eyes widened a little. Oh. Now she remembered. That had been the church with the huge stained-glass windows. The one in her book, by the tribute to Flevance.

“…I see.”

The little snail chewed its lip, clearly concerned. “Captain, if you want, I can do all the surveillance—”

“It’s fine,” he cut in, tone sharp before smoothing out, “I saw it earlier. In fact, I’m glad it’s so close. Nami-ya and I will check out the gallery. We’re nearby and I’d rather see it with my own eyes to get the lay of the land. Unless anyone else has a better lead, you and the others can head back to the ship.”

“Understood, sir. Anything else you need?” he asked, sounding relieved.

“Just tell Clione I might have a job for him later on, so don’t make any evening plans.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

The call ended, and Nami peered up at Law, expecting signs of the same darkness that had crossed his face when they’d visited the fountain earlier. Instead, his face was totally blank, staring down at the tiny snail, expressionless.

Somehow, that was far, far more unnerving.

“Law?” she asked, touching his arm hesitantly.

As if awoken from a trance he shook his head before smirking down at her. “Well, hope you don’t mind one last detour before heading back to the ship? I know it’s more stairs but look on the bright side; at this rate, the definition of your calf muscles will be a thing of beauty.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond, turning on his heels and heading towards the direction of the stairs to the next level. Frowning, she began to doubt whether or not this was all a good idea. She didn’t know exactly what his deal was, but she really felt like he was too close to this. But she had the feeling trying to talk him out of it would be an exercise in futility, and would set her back far more than any lie she might spin.

Oh well, she sighed internally, jogging to catch up, so long as he doesn’t do anything stupid. He’s sensible enough to keep a cool head, no matter what his problem is. It’ll be fine.

While it wasn’t far, it took longer than either of them would have expected to actually find Jubilee & Atlas Antiques. Mainly because it was a surprisingly nondescript building compared to the opulent churches and museums nearby. Honestly, based on the exterior, one could easily have passed it by. Like everything else the building was pristinely white, the windows boasting small arches over them and flower boxes containing white impatiens. Really, the most impressive thing about it was the marble plaque out front boasting the company’s name in gold leaf.

But the two pirates didn’t really care about the appearance; it was what was inside that counted. That, and the information board out front, which stated in bold, black letters that there would be a showing and auction of North Blue artworks at 8pm that evening.

“Why don’t you just Scan the place, grab the vase, and walk away? Seems like that would be easy compared to putting on this charade?” Nami asked, eyeing the building. It was hardly Harpin’s mansion; it would take almost no effort for Law to use his powers to steal every item of value inside it, replacing artifacts, paintings, and money with pebbles and potted plants with a mere flick of his fingers, then teleporting them away to safety.

Really, if he weren’t such an ass, Trafalgar Law would be a thief’s dream partner.

Of course, he was an ass, so he gave her a look that implied he considered her question to be phenomenally stupid. “Because there’s no guarantee that the vase is even in there—for all I know it’s being kept in a secondary location until the actual event for security or health reasons. It is a relic from a city that suffered a notorious death toll both before and after the World Government had quarantined it,” he explained lowly. “On top of that, my Room would draw too much attention, so if it’s not in there, we’ll have blown our whole cover and probably the operation.”

Though disappointed that they couldn’t just whisk it away with his powers, she conceded that he had a point. Versatile and useful as they were, the Ope Ope no Mi’s abilities did have their drawbacks. Actually infiltrating the auction house was a safer move.

Yet for a moment, she saw Law glare at the building, as if he were equally frustrated that they couldn’t just grab their prize and go. Perhaps even a great mastermind like him sometimes wished to take the direct path. “At least we can be sure it’ll be presented at this auction,” he reassured, almost as much to himself as her as his hand rested on Nami’s lower back while he escorted her away. “Makes it easier to come up with a plan and contingencies when I actually know the target. My crew did good.”

She twirled a strand of hair around her finger in thought. She supposed he was right, and the pride in his voice when he mentioned the Hearts’ contribution…well, she knew better than to argue with that. Seemed the lesson he learned on the last island was sticking. “Still too bad we don’t have blueprints like Harpin’s house, though.”

“It can’t be helped. That was a job I’d been planning for months. This is more…spontaneous. Why? Scared and looking to back out?” he asked, glancing down at her with a challenging grin.

Nami scoffed. She was a thief that specialized in robbing pirates. Sure, she was a scaredy-cat, but when treasure of some kind was at stake, there were few risks she wouldn’t take. “Not a chance. Just pointing out that we’re going in more blind than last time.”

“Maybe, but at least our prize will be out in the open and not in the home of a former Marine with tentacles. Hell, we might even get it legally.”

“Law,” she started, brow furrowing. She wasn’t scared, but she did have a reasonable concern, especially with how intent he seemed on this one item. “What are we going to do if we don’t win the vase?”

The pair stopped by the Flevance fountain, Law taking a long moment to stare solemnly at the beautiful white angels. Without a word he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small coin, pressing it to his lips before flipping it into the water.

When he turned back to her, his gold eyes were as hard as the statues’ and twice as cold.

“Simple; we take it from whoever did.”

XXX

Hidden in a small cove on an unpopulated section of Atifakuto’s coast, the sight of the Polar Tang’s sunny yellow hull was a welcome relief after a whole day of the city’s stark white walls. Law seemed to agree as his tense posture relaxed into a comfortable slouch, even giving a few of the guys a small grin when they called out to them. To Nami, of course, the submarine was still far from the Sunny and thus would never be home, but she couldn’t help but smile at Law’s reaction. The Dark Doctor really did have some softness deep down.

Of course, that didn’t last long, as the moment they were within the safety of the cargo bay he was once more all business. “Dinner is in an hour. Rest up, brush up on your notes, do whatever you need to prepare for the auction tonight; I’ve got a few more dominoes to put in place,” Law stated. He’d been silent for most of the walk back, though Nami attributed that to him mentally filing through all the information they now had and formulating his plan. Much as she missed and loved Luffy, having a captain who didn’t just go rushing in like an idiot was a nice change of pace.

That didn’t mean she appreciated his tone, though. “Say please,” she quipped, hip jutting out. She might have decided to be more compliant for the sake of gaining his trust, but that didn’t mean she was going to let him boss her around.

Besides, if she were too accommodating, he’d probably grow suspicious and then she’d be right back at square one.

He scowled but apparently decided it would be a waste of time to argue. They were on a tight schedule, after all, so her attitude would have to be tolerated. For now. “Please,” he grumbled before marching off, beckoning Clione to follow him. The biologist glanced between the two, bewildered, but smartly said nothing before chasing after his captain.

Flashing a self-satisfied grin at Law’s retreating back, Nami practically skipped to her quarters. Even though they weren’t as prepared as she’d like, so far, things were going well. Perhaps they couldn’t just use Law’s powers to swipe the vase, but by obtaining it through legal means, they wouldn’t have the authorities after them, which would be nice. Besides, it wasn’t her money that would be spent at the auction.

Her research of the North Blue had taught her a few things, including just how valuable things from Flevance were. After all, things made from the white ore had been in high-demand during the city’s heyday; now that it was in ruins, any remaining artifacts would surely triple in price. And, admittedly, if that fountain had been anything to go by, the vase could very well be extremely beautiful. Something any art collector or historian might want for themselves.

Once more, she wondered why the hell Law wanted it. He collected coins, not art, so she doubted it would be something he wanted just for the heck of it. What was his obsession with Flevance—

That train of thought was derailed when Nami walked into her room. She blinked then rubbed her eyes, certain her vision was still messed up from the sun, because Ikkaku was still sitting at her desk, working on some little device, practically in the same position as that morning. Really, the only difference was the lack of towel around her head, though her curly hair was a tangled bird’s nest.

“Have you even moved today?” Nami exclaimed loudly, flabbergasted.

The mechanic jumped a few inches out of her chair, a pen cartwheeling through the air before falling back onto the surface of the desk with a clatter. Apparently since she’d had the room to herself, she hadn’t felt the need to put the earplugs back in, leaving her vulnerable to Nami’s loud voice. “Damn, girl, you scared me,” Ikkaku said with a breathy laugh. She glanced around, noticing the time on the clock and the fact that her hair had dried completely. “Guess I was in the zone.”

“You haven’t been working all day, have you?” Nami asked, plopping her shopping bag on her bed. “At least tell me you had lunch.”

“Sounding an awful lot like Law there,” she teased, pushing away from her desk to stretch. There was an audible pop from her back, and her dark eyes closed in relief. “Like me, too. The boys and I are always bugging a certain workaholic captain to eat something and not subsist solely on coffee and aspirin. But to answer your question, yes, I did have lunch.” She pointed at an empty plate that had been shoved into the far corner of the desk, a few grains of rice stuck to the surface. “Bepo brought me some onigiri.”

“Good. If you didn’t, I’d be dragging you into the galley and force-feeding you a sandwich, then charging you a cooking and inconvenience fee.”

Snorting, Ikkaku cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders, further releasing the tension sitting hunched over in one spot for hours had built up. “Dinner’s soon enough; even if I hadn’t eaten, I could have waited. And good luck making a sandwich with no bread on board.” Despite her dismissal tone, though, she gave a wry grin. “But thanks for caring, I guess, even if it does come with a price tag.”

“What are friends for?” Nami shrugged with a smile that was a little forced. It was such an alien feeling, this sudden awkwardness. Since first arriving on the Tang, she and Ikkaku had gotten on like a house on fire. It was almost inevitable, being the two women on the ship surrounded by men dealing with that insanity together. Hell, even if that hadn’t been the case, Ikkaku had practically sacrificed herself for her back at the club on Grimm. A companion like that was more than she’d even dared to dream of before she’d met Luffy.

Was it really right for Nami to act like she didn’t know about her brother? Should she just tell her that the guys told her about Ushi? Really, what was the point of keeping it a secret? It wasn’t that Nami thought she’d slip up and spill the beans—lying was her specialty, after all—but Ikkaku wasn’t some mark or stranger. She was her friend.

Hell, even if they were on opposite crews, she’d even dare to call her nakama.

The issue resolved itself, however, when the other woman’s expression turned a little melancholy. Ikkaku sighed as she rested her cheek on her fist, her other hand idly playing with the pen. “Heh. Funny, I used to ask myself that question a lot when I was younger. I didn’t really have friends back on my home island. I lived with my Gramps in a lighthouse, so besides the occasional trip to town, it was a pretty isolated life.”

“What about your brothers?” Nami asked, masking her interest by taking her purchases out of the bag so they wouldn’t wrinkle before the auction. A swell of relief surged through her. If Ikkaku talked about Ushi herself, the whole charade of pretending not to know about him wouldn’t even be necessary! She just had to carefully press for the right crumbs of information, maybe even offer up a couple tidbits about her own life in exchange. No big deal. Tit for tat, right? “Nojiko was my best friend growing up. Hell, probably my only friend until Luffy came along.”

A dark look crossed Ikkaku’s face. “Yeah, well, Nojiko on her worst day was probably a way better sibling than all of them combined.”

“I don’t think you’ve talked about them much. I basically just know that they exist and said you wouldn’t really make it as an engineer because you’re a girl.”

A long sigh escaped her lips. “That’s…the nice version. Didn’t want to unload my shitty childhood on you, especially since yours sounded worse. I mean, my island was never taken over by pirates, and I didn’t work for the guy who murdered my mom.”

Well, that was certainly true, but then again, people with healthy, normal childhoods seldom became pirates. Or at least, those that did rarely lasted long on such cutthroat seas. Nami should have realized there was more to the mechanic’s past than some run-of-the-mill misogyny. “Maybe, but I don’t mind. We’ve all gone through some rough shit, right? We wouldn’t be in this line of work otherwise.”

“True. I just…I guess I just like to pretend he doesn’t exist most of the time.”

“He?” she asked as if she didn’t already know.

Ikkaku’s calloused hand dropped the pen to instead clench into a tight fist, and there was a haunted look in her dark eyes as she stared off into space. “Ushi. He’s the oldest. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t afraid of him. Spent our childhood making our other brothers use me as a punching bag. When he wasn’t doing that, he gave me almost hourly reminders that I was a burden on the family, that no one really loved me, that I’d never amount to anything.” There was a hitch in her breath and a pause, and Nami noticed her close her eyes tightly for a moment. As if she were fighting back tears. It was a look she’d never expected to see on the tough, vibrant woman’s face. “Then, when I was seven, he tried to kill me.”

“What?!” Nami exclaimed, dropping her blazer to the floor in shock.

“Yeah. Joras had a huge fucking forest, and he led me into it to look for mushrooms or some shit. Can’t remember. Next thing I know, he’s shoved me into a pit, and by the time I’d climbed out, he was long gone and it was night. I think…I think it was supposed to be my grave, ‘cause it was really fucking deep. Or at least it seemed that way. Maybe I’m misremembering.”

Somehow, Nami doubted that. Sure, memories could get warped with age and fear, but some details remained solid for the rest of a person’s life. “But, you got out, right? And I’m sure your parents must have been worried sick!” She could almost picture it. A young Ikkaku, sticks and leaves caught in her messy curls, knees and elbows scraped, face covered in dirt and tears, frightened but once more able to smile when she was finally found, her mother and father scooping her into their arms, scolding her for worrying them but just so relieved she was safe…

At least, that’s what Bellemere or Mister Genzo would have done if Nami had gone missing.

From the bitter laugh that escaped her throat, Ikkaku hadn’t been so fortunate. “I spent three days wandering around those fucking woods, scared and cold and wondering if I was gonna die out there. My parents didn’t even notice I was gone.” After a long moment of silence, her fist unclenched and some of the tension eased out of her shoulders. “Gramps found me, though. When I didn’t come home after two days and a storm rolled in, my brothers Nausagi and Fukuro ran two miles to the lighthouse to tell him what Ushi had done. Maybe they realized he’d gone too far. Or they were scared I’d come back as a vengeful zombie. Either way, Gramps rescued me and demanded custody. Mama and Pops were glad to hand me over. One less mouth to feed, and I wouldn’t be causing their Future Marine Hero any more trouble.”

“That’s…that’s horrible.” And yet Nami could tell she was getting the abridged version of the story. “Tell me your grandfather was a better guardian.”

Despite the childhood trauma she’d just confessed to, Ikkaku merely shrugged, a small grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “Yeah. He was. Gramps was crazy, but he loved me and taught me how to fight. Told me to never lose my smile, ‘cause that’s my best protection against a world that’ll try to break me.”

“Bellemere said something similar to me and Nojiko. ‘Whatever happens, never lose your ability to laugh. If you can survive, happy times, lots of ‘em, will come your way’.”

“Smart lady.” She tried to casually run her fingers through her hair, only to find them caught in the tangled knots. She let out a light chuckle at her predicament and added, “I think she and Gramps would have gotten along pretty well. Well, assuming she liked salty former smugglers who had the gumption to threaten Law with a shot gun. Not that he didn’t deserve it a little.”

Nami had to smile at that, and she could only imagine what he’d said that had nearly gotten him shot. It was definitely something snarky, a shit-eating grin on his face while he provoked a protective grandfather just because he could.

Noticing Ikkaku’s hair situation, she abandoned her suit to instead pick up a wide-toothed comb. “Well, I’m not sure about Bellmere, but I’d certainly love to meet him.”

“Of course you would.” Leaning back in the chair, she allowed Nami to carefully put her thick curls to rights. “How was shopping? Boss show you the blinding sights of the city?”

“It was…enlightening,” she said cautiously. There was still so much to sort out, and every time she thought she had an answer to one of her questions, four more popped up in its place.

Grabbing the pen she’d been playing with earlier, Ikkaku handed it to her over her shoulder. “Here; I made you something, since I doubt you’ll be able to bring your Clima-Tact with you. Kinda why I was so focused—I wanted it to be ready by tonight.”

Curious, Nami inspected the item. It was a plain black ballpoint pen maybe a bit longer than her hand. There was an almost unnoticeable jolly roger engraved into the middle, and she ran her thumb over it idly. “You spent the whole afternoon making me a pen? I could have just as easily brought my stylus.”

“Oh, but a stylus is only good for writing. This is so much more useful. ‘The pen is mightier than the sword’, right? Click the top.”

She did so, and instead of an ink-filled nub, a small syringe, similar to an epi-pen, popped out. Her eyes widened in realization as Ikkaku explained, “Inside’s a powerful tranquilizer. Should knock any fool out in minutes if injected into the bloodstream. Takes longer if it’s ingested. It’s non-lethal to humans, so it should be safe to use on anyone you’re looking to knock out. Assuming they aren’t really Fishmen in disguise.”

“Why? Does it react differently for them?”

She grimaced. “Yeah. Severe allergic reaction. Anaphylactic shock typically. So, unless you want that on your conscience, humans only.”

Tucking the pen away for later, Nami nodded in understanding and went back to combing her hair. “Gotcha. Doubt it’ll be a problem, though. Jean Bart said this place is pretty humans-only.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s impossible for someone to have that kind of bloodline. If it’s diluted through a few generations, a lot of the time you can hide it and pass for human.”

“Hmmm, hadn’t thought of that.”

There was a moment where Nami could tell she was mulling something over. Even faced away from her, Ikkaku wasn’t hard to read, and it was only a matter of time before she voiced whatever question was on her mind.

While she waited, the ginger took the time to appreciate the texture of Ikkaku’s hair, combing out each curl individually so it wouldn’t frizz. The thick, black locks were coarser than her own, yet surprisingly soft despite her hard life at sea. Hair maintenance was extremely difficult living on the ocean, the salt and fluctuating weather of the Grand Line wreaking havoc on Nami’s much finer strands. And while Ikkaku was far more feminine than one would expect upon first meeting her, in the time they’d roomed together, she didn’t seem to put much more extensive care into her shiny locks than some leave-in conditioner.

Guess she’s just got some good genetics, Nami thought appreciatively. Either that or she’s hiding some amazing shampoo formula, and damn if she is I’ll never forgive her!

When Ikkaku at last broke her silence, the hesitation in her voice was palpable. “Hey, it was a Fishman who held you prisoner all those years, right? You ever…blame all Fishmen for what he did?”

It was an unexpected question, but a fair one, Nami supposed. Arlong had committed a crime so heinous she knew she’d never forgive him, and she knew there were plenty of people, especially ones who spent years abused by such a monster, who would project that hatred onto an entire race. But why even ask?

“I…not really. I mean, I can’t say I never lumped them all together in my head, since Arlong and his crew were my only baseline for Fishmen for a long time.” She bit her lip, thinking. “But that was when I was a kid. My view of things was a lot more black-and-white, mostly because I was bitter at my situation. As I got older, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was stupid to think all Fishmen were like him. He was the one who hurt me, so he’s the only one who should get my hate.”

“So, you don’t hate them all?”

She shook her head. “Nah. Hell, I was even able to forgive a member of his crew. I’m sure you heard about how Luffy punched a Celestial Dragon?”

Ikkaku craned her neck up to look at her, dark eyes widening in shocked understanding. “Yeah? You saying the Fishman he defended—”

“One of Arlong’s crew. Hatchi. Like all of them, he hurt me too, but it was on his captain’s orders, and he clearly regretted it.” Well, it had been a bit more complex than that. Hell, when they’d first encountered him again, she’d nearly gone back on her promise to Camie to rescue him. Even if he hadn’t abused her like the others, he’d still been complacent in it. Still destroyed villagers homes, held her hostage, attacked the Navy ships that tried to come to the rescue. He hadn’t been blameless in the least. She would have had every right to demand that he be left to be killed or enslaved. That it was karma come to bite him in the ass.

Yet what had swayed her, apart from Camie’s determination to save him, was her own friends’ reactions to seeing him again. Those who knew her past had immediately been ready to turn the ship around and leave Hatchi to his fate. Of course she’d expected Sanji to be her knight in shining armor and want nothing to do with someone who had abused a lady, even by proxy. Zoro and Usopp had been a bit more surprising, though perhaps it shouldn’t have been. They knew what she’d been put through. Had fought and bled for her. Despite their sometimes heated disagreements, Nami knew she could count on them to always have her back.

The one who shocked her the most was Luffy. He might have flip-flopped between reason and his stomach, but the fact was, her loving, forgiving captain had actually held a grudge on her behalf. Hatchi and Arlong hadn’t done anything to him personally, but his nakama had suffered, and that wasn’t something he’d easily set aside. That genuine show of solidarity and loyalty to her had melted what ice had still been around her heart, which allowed her to truly forgive the octopus Fishman.

Yes, Hatchi had hurt her, but her hatred was solely reserved for Arlong, not his underlings who genuinely felt remorse.

“I’m not a saint or anything but hating Hatchi…it seemed pointless. He wasn’t the one who killed my mother. And blaming all Fishmen for the actions of one seemed pretty shitty. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t kill Arlong if I had the chance, though.”

Nami could practically feel the tension drain from Ikkaku’s shoulders, and she couldn’t hide her smile before she looked away. “That’s good to know. That asshole deserves it, from what you’ve told me. He and my brother should meet, then get sacrificed to some kind of horrible sea monster. Plenty of hungry Sea Kings out there to feed.”

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer pair of guys,” Nami giggled as she ran the comb through the last strand of hair. “Though, that might be cruel to the Sea King. Poor thing deserves a better meal than shit like them.”

“True. We’ll just have to think of something else then. We can ask Law; he’s always got great suggestions.”

A shudder ran down her spine, though she had to admit, it wasn’t as horrified as she’d like. She justified it with the fact that Arlong was scum who deserved whatever painful death the likes of Law might propose. So did Ushi, from the sounds of things. Though, Law had said Ikkaku had begged him not to kill her brother. Why? Did she still care about Ushi due to their familial ties? Or was there something else?

Maybe she just doesn’t want her brother’s death on her conscience, Nami thought, putting the comb away and proceeding to raid the closet for shoes. I just hope that doesn’t come back to bite her someday.

XXX

Dinner on the Tang was certainly livelier and noisier than breakfast. Mainly because the crew didn’t have to walk on eggshells while waiting for Law to get his caffeine hit. Most of the time about a dozen different conversations could be heard, utensils clattered against plates, insults were tossed about, and laughter filled the air. But at the moment, the whole galley was silent save for Nami, who was telling the Heart Pirates—save for a few who’d been sent out on last-minute errands—all about her crew’s wild adventure on Skypiea.

“…so, after Luffy beat the crap out of him, Enel flew off to the moon in his gold airship, and we escaped the island with the help of an octopus balloon, our ship loaded with treasure!”

There was a pregnant pause as the Hearts stared at her in a mix of awe and disbelief. She’d had their undivided attention ever since Law announced that the Straw Hats had found Noland’s lost city of gold, all but demanding she tell the tale and not skimp on the details.

Naturally, those details made the story even more bizarre, practically unbelievable, but she gave them what they asked for, so they couldn’t complain. Even Law’s jaw had dropped once or twice in incredulity. Mostly at the part where Luffy’d been eaten by a giant snake and thus been hidden from Enel’s senses.

Finally, a few of the crew managed to find their voices.

“An orangutan nearly wrecked your ship with singing?” Shachi asked, face utterly baffled.

Penguin grabbed his hat and smacked him over the head with it. “That’s what you’re stuck on? That’s from way back in the beginning of the story!”

The ginger punched him in the shoulder in retaliation, which quickly devolved into a childish slap fight. “Well it’s weird, ok?”

“Weirder than Straw Hat punching Kami or the knock-up stream business or the ship that flew to the moon?”

“Yeah! You ever met an orangutan that could sing?!”

“No, but that’s not the point!”

“You met Monte Blac Cricket?” Ermine interrupted, eyes so wide the whites could be seen even under the rim of their hat, though their mouth quickly split into a smile. “Holy shit, I’d wondered what had happened to him!”

“Wasn’t he your friend or something?” Seiuchi asked through a mouth full of rice.

They shook their head, looking a little wistful, a faint blush rising to their cheeks. “Just a neighbor. The people of Lvneel were dicks to his family and anyone who associated with them didn’t get treated much better. But I always thought there had to be some truth to Noland’s story.”

“Because a city of gold is so fantastical it’s gotta be real?” Nami asked, amused. She’d half-expected everyone to laugh at her like the people on Jaya when she’d asked about Sky Island—she’d even glossed over that part, finding no reason to recap such a blow to her pride. Yet instead, they’d been respectful, even entranced by her tale. It seemed to help that she’d been able to fill in a few blanks with what she remembered from Noland’s ledger, thus adding credibility to the man himself instead of just imagining the lying fool the king’s slander had reduced him to.

Usopp would probably love these guys, she thought fondly. Not that they’d likely believe his fantastical lies, but they’d probably at least let him spin his yarns to his heart’s content.

“Because you don’t tell a king about a city of gold unless you’ve got something to show for it,” Uni interjected wisely, ladling some more curry onto her plate. He paused to smile at her with his eyes, the bottom half of his face still distinctly covered by his bandana despite it being dinnertime. This close, Nami couldn’t help but try to subtly look for signs of scarring, and in fact could spot a line of slightly-paler skin peeking out just over the edge. “That, and history’s rarely all that accurate. Full of lies and twisted to suit a certain narrative.”

“That’s the World Government way. I’m sure we’ll see plenty of it tonight,” Law stated, leaning back in his chair as he munched on some onigiri. The bulge in his cheek might have been comical, but the glint in his eye was humorless. “Can’t wait to hear the dumbass assumptions people make about us Northerners.”

Murmurs of agreement echoed throughout the room, though an angry tic formed on Nami’s forehead.

“Are you saying the stuff you had me study is going to be a load of crap?” she demanded, pointing her finger accusingly. Of course she knew history was skewed at best, but she’d spent days cramming! Had weird sexual dreams about him because of it!

Yes she was blaming the book for that and no one could stop her.

He shrugged and took another bite of rice, unbothered by her irritation. “It’s the information you’ll need to be able to regurgitate if anyone asks you about the North.”

“Yeah,” Penguin chimed in, nodding sagely. He and Shachi had finally been pulled apart by Jean Bart and had resumed eating like nothing had happened. “These people aren’t interested in the truth. They just want to feel superior to the ‘uneducated masses’.”

“Buncha pretentious pricks,” Shachi sniggered, balancing a spoon on his upper lip. “Bet they’d have a fucking fit if they found out El Dorodo’s not only real, but in the fucking sky!”

“I mean, can’t say I’d blame them,” Jude grumbled, playing a bit with his food like a grumpy child. “I figured we’d be the ones to find it, but this whole time we’ve been sailing around in a submarine for nothing!”

“You got something to say about my ship?” Ikkaku snapped, glaring at her crewmate. Behind her, Crozier, Cousteau, and Ermine made slashing motions across their throats, silently reminding him that disparaging the Polar Tang in any way in front of its chief engineer was a sure death sentence.

Before he could say anything, Uni thwapped him on the forehead with the spoon, apparently taking just as much offense. “How can you say it’s been for nothing—we’ve found tons of cool shit down here! May not have been El Dorado, but there have been some amazing sunken cities. And fish! We’ve discovered more aquatic animals than any other ocean explorer,” he pointed out excitedly, Cousteau nodding in agreement. “I mean, we’ve seen deep-sea fish not recorded in any book! Extracted hallucinogenic venom from puffer fish! Taken samples of bioluminescent plankton! We’ve seen octopi punch fish!”

“You ever figure out why they do that?” Shachi asked, cocking his head.

“Best I can figure? Spite.”

As weird as this little tangent was, Nami found herself giggling a bit at how excited Uni was. She didn’t know him too well, given how he was one of the quieter, more reserved members of the crew, but it was endearing to see him so animated and giddy as he discussed marine life.

“Plus, it’s cool to study navigational currents and everything, and underwater topography. The maps I can make from that kind of intel are really good,” Bepo added, twiddling his claws a bit beside her.

“Right! And if that’s still not enough to convince you, who needs a city of gold when you can get your hands on more sunken treasure than most pirates see in their lifetimes?” Uni asked, puffing out his chest.

She couldn’t help it—Nami’s eyes lit up with belli signs at the thought of how many sunken ships the submarine probably came across, all that gold theirs for the taking. Most treasure was basically lost once it hit the bottom of the ocean, but the Hearts’ ship and diving equipment turned the ocean floor into their personal piggy bank.

It seemed Jude had the same thought. “You’re right, you’re right,” he conceded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, it’s a great ship, and we’ve definitely found more than a city’s worth of loot—and yes the fish are cool Uni put the spoon away—but it’s still annoying to find out that we’ve been searching the wrong place this whole time.”

“Eh, happens to every pirate crew,” Jean Bart said, sipping his drink. “You find a treasure map only to discover the gold’s already dug up. Same with legends of lost cities. The fact that the Straw Hats actually found El Dorado and came away with a profit just means they’ve got the Devil’s luck on their side.”

“Or the favor of some god. Probably not that Enel guy, though,” Shachi said with a smirk. “And hopefully nothing from Joras, either.”

There was a murmur of agreement among the crew at that, though Ikkaku looked more uncomfortable than amused. Nami wasn’t the only one to catch that, though, as Uni reproachfully smacked the side of his head with the spoon.

“Dude. Don’t joke about the eldritch horror gods, yeah?”

“Sorry,” the ginger said, blushing slightly as he wiped away the curry splattered across his face.

“Eldritch horror gods?” Nami asked, recoiling at the thought. What the fuck?! Joras sounded vaguely familiar and given the context she guessed it had to be someplace in the North Blue, but she sure as hell didn’t recall reading anything about that! Was this something related to Northern culture, or were the guys just fucking with her?

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head over, Nami-ya,” Law stated with a smirk, though she didn’t miss the glare he sent Shachi’s way. “We’ve been sailing under the ocean for over five years and I’ve yet to see a sleeping god who can turn you mad with terror.”

“No, just an underwater ruin or two that talks about him,” Ikkaku muttered, picking at her food.

Underwater ruins with tales of sleeping gods? Sounds like something Robin would be interested in, Nami thought, nervous sweat running down her neck. Not that she’d be able to blame her. Sure, the archeologist was macabre as hell, but Nami could appreciate her thirst for knowledge, creepy or not. Who knew what history and cultures had been lost to the seas? Maybe there were even Poneglyphs down at the bottom of the ocean!

Damn. Robin and Law would probably get along great. She wasn’t sure if she was frightened or comforted by this thought.

Uni seemed to notice her unease and patted her shoulder. “We’ve seen some strange stuff down there, but nothing more dangerous than Sea Kings. Which, I mean, aren’t exactly friendly guppies, but they’ll leave us be. The Tang’s Seastone coating and electrical defenses ensure that.”

Though she still found the whole concept horrifying, she was appreciated how hard Uni was trying to keep the peace and not make things needlessly frightening for her. The whole crew had a morbid sense of humor, but while she’d mostly adapted, she still found this whole conversation creepy. It made her feel a little guilty for wanting to pry into his business. Yeah, it was annoying to know the crew was hiding stuff from her, but Uni deserved a little privacy, right?

“Yeah, and if there were anything more, Uni’s fish buddies would warn us ahead of time!” Malamute added.

“Fish buddies?” Nami asked, eyebrows lifting to her hairline in surprise. So much for respecting his privacy. “Wait, can you talk to fish?”

The man in question stiffened beside her. “I, uh, I can understand fish a little,” he said, looking nervous. His large hands twisted the napkin in his lap, and he refused to look at her. “It’s a Haki thing.”

“Haki can do that?” she asked, surprised.

“Observation Haki can do a lot of things, and Uni’s the best at it on the ship,” Law cut in harshly, glare brokering no argument. “It’s a skill that’s saved our asses plenty of times.”

Nami blanched at his defensive tone. “Hey, I’ll take your word for it, but you don’t have to act like I insulted his mother or something.”

“It’s ok, Law,” Uni said, shrugging a bit, though his face seemed to sink a little further into his bandana. “I know she didn’t mean anything by it. It’s a fair question, and it is a weird talent.”

“It’s not weird. It’s fucking useful as hell and I won’t hear anyone belittling my crew.”

“I’d never belittle him—” Nami snapped, starting to stand up to give Law a piece of her mind before Bepo’s heavy paws fell on her shoulders, gently but firmly keeping her seated.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized softly. “Law doesn’t mean you. It’s just…the last person outside the crew that found out, he was extremely cruel about it. Beat Uni to a pulp and even threatened to sell him as a freak show attraction before Captain found them.”

“Oh my god,” she replied, anger cooling quickly as she covered her mouth in horror, imagining Uni bruised and bloody on the ground at the hands of some bastard. Well, that would sure as hell explain why Law had taken such offense. If such a thing had happened to Chopper because he could speak to animals, she’d likely be just as pissed. From the scowls on the rest of the Hearts’ faces, the whole crew felt similar. Her gaze flicked to the fuming captain. “I’m guessing he ended up on your operating table?”

“I wish,” he growled, gold eyes glinting in fury as he crossed his arms. “Marines showed up before I could cut out his heart. Must have been his lucky day, but luck won’t be enough to save him if I ever run into Hyena-ya again.”

“Hyena?” she asked, the name not ringing any bells.

“Bellamy the Hyena,” Bepo explained, snout wrinkling in distaste. “He’s also from the North.”

Oh. My. God, Nami thought, wondering if the world was really so small. “You said Bellamy, right? Blonde hair? Spring powers? Asshole with a stupid grin?”

Law cocked an eyebrow in mild surprise. “Seems you’ve encountered him before.”

She ground her teeth as she remembered the way he’d mocked Luffy’s dreams in the bar. “Yeah. On Jaya. His crew laughed at me for asking about Sky Island and his first mate tried to buy me. Later he stole Cricket’s gold, so Luffy went after him. I didn’t see the fight but given what an ass that guy was…yeah, Luffy wiped that stupid smile off his face.”

Once more the room fell silent, but quickly broke out into thunderous applause.

“Hah! I would have paid good money to see that!” Ikkaku laughed, spirits lifted.

“If he hurt Cricket, I’m glad he got the beating he deserved,” Ermine said with a grin.

Uni smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling happily. “When you see Straw Hat again, shake his hand for me! That guy’s a dick.”

Even Law was put in a better mood, though there was still a malicious edge to his smirk. “Good on Mugiwara-ya. Still wouldn’t mind doing some permanent damage to the fucker myself, though. Bad enough he insulted my crew, but that bastard should pick his idols more carefully.”

Nami’s brow furrowed at that. His idols? The hell did that mean?

She didn’t have time to vocalizing that question, though. Sweat ran down her neck when said smirk then took a more lecherous edge as he rested his chin on his fist, eyes glinting with mischief. “But Sarquiss-ya tried to buy you? I might have prioritize kicking his ass, then. I’m the only one who gets to be your sugar daddy.”

“Oh shut up! You didn’t even buy me new shoes!”

“You got her a suit but no shoes? For shame, Boss,” Ikkaku giggled, getting up to help Seiuchi and Jude clear the tables. “I thought you were supposed to be a ladies’ man.”

“I’m a cruel bastard who doesn’t do something for nothing. She can borrow yours.”

Sauntering over, she playfully poked him in the forehead. “Says who?”

Law snorted and childishly poked her right back. “Me. Your captain. The guy who pays your salary.”

“You pay me to keep the submarine running and sass you when you’re being an idiot.”

“I don’t pay you for that.”

“Mmmm, you’re right; that’s a service I provide for free.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say those two were siblings,” Nami chuckled under her breath.

“Right? When I was first recruited I was convinced they were secretly related,” Uni agreed.

Bepo gave them both a smile and said quietly, “I think it’s good for them. Especially Law. I think he secretly likes having a little sister again.”

Brown eyes widened at that little tidbit. Law had a sister? What happened to her? Bepo had stated the past tense, so there was either some kind of falling out or…

…oh no, she thought, turning to watch Law continue to bicker good-naturedly with Ikkaku, his expression annoyed but the glimmer in his eyes belying that he was enjoying himself. Another piece of the puzzle that was the Surgeon of Death had fallen into her lap, but it wasn’t a particularly happy one. Sure, people died or were killed all the time, but Nami couldn’t imagine what she’d be like if she’d lost Nojiko. And depending on how young they’d been or how she’d died, that could really fuck with a guy.

“Nami-ya.”

Her attention was yanked from her musing as Law called her name. He was on his feet, plate clean and smirk dangerous as he regarded her. Nami wondered whether this would be the last time she’d see him in a genuinely good mood for the rest of the evening. “It’s seven o’clock. Time to get ready to watch history be defiled by pretentious morons. And for your obnoxious thunder god’s sake, make sure you’re wearing shoes you can actually run in.”

( @ninhaoma-ya, @awesomi, @vannahfanfics)

[crystalgirl259]

Guilty Pleasures Chapter 1

SUMMARY: A demon Kai and an angel Zane, longtime acquaintances who, having grown accustomed to life on Earth as representatives of Heaven and Hell, seek to prevent the coming of the Armageddon...

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

Current theories on the creation of the universe stated that if it were created at all and didn't just start it came into being about fourteen billion years ago. The Earth was generally supposed to be about four and a half billion years old. These dates were incorrect. Some medieval scholars put the date of the creation at 3760 BC while others put creation as far back as 5508 BC. But these were also incorrect. Archbishop James Ussher claimed that Heaven and the Earth were created on Sunday, the twenty-first of October, 4004 BC, at nine in the morning.

This too was incorrect, by almost a quarter of an hour.

It was created at 9:13 in the morning. The whole business with the fossilized dinosaur skeletons was a joke that paleontologists haven't seen yet. This proved that God did not play dice with the universe. He played an ineffable game of his own devising. For everyone else, it was like playing poker in a pitch-dark room, for infinite stakes, with a dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiled all the time. To understand the true significance of what that means, we need to begin earlier.

A little more than 6,000 years earlier, to be precise.

Just after the beginning. It started, as it will end, with a garden, in this case, the Garden of Eden, and with an apple. It was a nice day, but all the days had been nice. There had been rather more than seven of them so far, and rain hadn't been invented yet. But the storm clouds gathering east of Eden suggested that the first thunderstorm was on its way, and it was going to be a big one...

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

Zane fretted as he stood near the lip of the stone ledge, his shining robes shining in the light along with the white, almost glowing, feathers of his large wings. The first two humans off in the distance, Adam and Eve, had barely made their way out into the new world and they were both already in danger. A large male lion made a beeline from nowhere toward them and was now intending on making them extinct. The young angel didn't think this was going to go well.

Thank goodness they weren't unarmed, the angel consoled himself.

Before they left, he gave Eve his shurikens of ice gifted to him by the high angels. He was surprised to see Adam wielding a sword of fire, a weapon not of Heaven, but considering what had happened, he wasn't too concerned about it. Knowing that they had means of protection helped Zane's mind rest, but only a little. The weather was fair, aside from the rapidly building clouds. At least that was a comfort to know. A kind, warm breeze fluttered his clean robe around in a playful way.

It felt wonderful to the angel, but even better how it ran through his unsheathed white wings.

He flexed them out to get a better feel. It felt good to have them free from their confines. He had been practicing getting used to having them put away for his assignment on this new planet. They had warned him upstairs that he couldn't afford to be seen by 'God's Little Projects' down here. Those were their words, not his own. Before Zane embarked, God himself told him they wouldn't be able to handle it due to now learning 'jealousy', whatever that meant.

When he asked him what it was, he said the young angel would find out in time, plus all the other ones.

He still didn't know why God didn't tell him, but God had always worked in mysterious ways. Don't interfere too much. That was the rule all angels lived by. Be ever watchful, a mentor if needed, provide guidance if asked, but that was it. Not too difficult, or so they kept telling him, and already he broke the rule. Now he had more trouble on the mind. There was only so much to do when watching over the birth of a new species. To be so limited to what needs to be done simply wasn't fair.

Not that he condoned rules should be broken.

But this was not going to be easy. His toes curled on the hard surface when he felt that other presence approach closer. It was a sort of tugging sensation that came from deep inside him. He thought it was curious. That never happened before, except when that thing first showed up. He knew it was nearby anyway. At times it felt as though it was hovering just out of sight, watching. But he had hoped it would leave. It felt different than anything he had ever known, and he didn't like it one bit.

Not when everything was so new.

So he promptly chose to ignore it. It was just a lowly serpent demon anyway. Granted, that filthy Hell beast was most likely the reason he had a chance of being fired before he could do his job. Perhaps everyone would understand. They were angels, after all, forgiveness and compassion were at the very root of their cores. Zane rubbed his temple. He had only one job. He hadn't even been here for very long and already he morally mucked it up.

He would be the laughing stock upstairs.

The only other thing he could possibly get wrong now is if Eden caught fire. Then he would officially be out of a job. Zane started wondering if he should have been more aggressive about it and really told that serpent what for. He never was very good at this soldier of Heaven thing or asserting himself in general. Zane truly believed that someone else would be better suited for this than he.

"What do you make of it?" A voice suddenly asked, shattering the silence. Zane jumped, the voice startling him from his own musings. He hadn't noticed he was no longer alone. He was shocked that the creature had yet to attack him, wondering if they were friendly, but that would be outlandish because the very thought is preposterous, blasphemous even. Their kind would never mingle with his. Not without bloodshed, anyway. It simply wasn't done.

The angel turned to his left and couldn't help but do a double-take to the creature next to him.

It was male, dressed in dark red robes, with amber snake-like eyes, beautiful tanned skin, a toned body, and brown hair shaped in a way that reminded Zane of fire. The back of the demon's hands and up his arms were dusted with dark red snake scales. His finger and toenails were incredibly sharp and black. Zane couldn't take his eyes off it, completely transfixed. He almost didn't believe that that was the serpent. He didn't know it had a vessel, let alone a silky pair of feathered, crimson wings with black tips.

When Zane saw the wings he realized that this was not just some ordinary demon.

It was one of the Fallen. That was fascinating to Zane, as he had never met one of them. In fact, if Zane was entirely honest with himself, this dark one was a mixture of striking, exotic, and becharming. Now it was staring at him with those amber serpent eyes. For some reason, they didn't repulse the angel. It was then that Zane remembered that the snake had asked him something and it was probably best to respond. He should also stop thinking of it as an 'it'.

That demon was evidently much more than that and Zane suddenly felt like he was being rude, even if the demon couldn't read minds.

Zane smiled awkwardly, then concluded he had no idea what the creature said.

"Sorry, what?" Zane asked and the brunette pointed out towards the humans.

"That, right there, the whole tiger thing." He clarified and Zane followed the demon's finger.

"That's a lion." Zane corrected.

"Whatever, don't you think it's a bit much? I mean, they just got out, are finding their footing, and the first thing they come across on this big round planet is this aggressive beast?"

"No one said it would be easy," Zane said, even if the other had a point.

"It's trying to eat them!" The demon gawked at him.

"Look, I don't like it any more than you do, uh...?" Zane trailed off when he realized he hadn't gotten the demon's name if it had one. The brunette quickly caught on to why Zane paused and smiled faintly.

"Kai." He answered the unasked question.

"Kai, thank you, but these things are not our decisions to make."

"You're not about to sprout some Holier-Than-Thou jibberish at me are you?" Kai asked as he gave him a peculiar look. Zane wasn't sure how to answer that. That was all anyone ever talked about upstairs. The very idea that someone wouldn't want to, let alone calling it jibberish, preach about it and discuss its many glorious wonders was unheard of. When the angel didn't answer, the dark one rolled his eyes.

"You were, weren't you?"

"There's nothing wrong with that." Zane countered.

"No no, of course not." Kai mocked. "You're within your right to justify a reason as to why God's human race failed at the get-go."

"I'm not trying to do any such thing!" Zane said, growing flustered. "B-Besides, look! The male seems to be fending its adversary off brilliantly on his own! They're obviously capable of taking care of themselves; I only hope that this will be the worst of it, at least for today." He frowned in concern as a roll of thunder broke in, causing them both to look around for the source. Detecting it was from the sky, they exchange looks then went back to watching the battle for survival in front of them.

They stood in oddly comfortable silence before Kai broke it.

"Wait, so that's a lion?" He gasped, almost in awe.

"Yes, It is."

"Never seen one of them before."

"Sorry?" Zane blinked in confusion.

"I said, I've never seen one of those before."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I've never seen a lion before, so I would never have known they looked like that." He shrugged and Zane could only stare. "What?" Kai asked in a rather prickly manner.

"Nothing," The angel squeaked as he turned away, a slight blush framing the tips of his ears. He didn't realize he was ogling again. "Just, find it surprising that one dead animal isn't familiar with an equally dangerous one."

"It's not like I was there when they were created, was a little bit busy with another matter at that time, as you well know." Kai returned as another boom of thunder rumbled closer over their heads. Only this time it had been accompanied by a shocking bright snap of light that streaked across the sky. Both of their sets of wings flinched outward and lightly fluffed at the surprise of it. Zane let out an embarrassed chuckle and willed his feathers to settle down.

He could see out of the corner of his eye the other trying to do the same.

He cleared his throat and thought it best to continue where they left off.

"So, therefore, am I left to understand that, based on what you've said, you've never witnessed a tiger as well?" He asked and Kai immediately clammed up.

"Why do you ask?"

"It's a simple question."

"I don't know about that."

"Really? Do tell, I'd love to hear it."

"Has it gotten a bit stuffy out here?"

"No, I find it quite pleasing in all truthfulness."

"More cloudy things are building up."

"Stop trying to change the subject, please." Zane all but begged and Kai eyed him carefully.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm being ridiculed?"

"I would never," He said with all honesty. Kai looked around as if someone might hear, grimaced, and leaned in.

"Promise you won't tell?"

"Oh, may the Lord himself strike me down if I should ever utter a syllable to another living soul," Zane promised and he clasped his hands as if in prayer. Kai gave him a doubtful look, but eventually relented and grumbled with an obnoxious huff.

"No, are you satisfied now?! I've never seen a tiger, a lion, or fucking whale!" The demon cried as he closed his eyes and flinched again when more thunder rumbled closer. The sky was turning all below it several shades darker, growing ever so closer to swallowing the bright sun. The angel was oblivious to this, however.

"If it makes you feel any better, I've never seen a whale either." Zane smiled. It took a moment, but Zane noticed the smirk flit across that surprisingly pretty face.

"It doesn't," Kai replied as he glanced at him all the same with those gemstone eyes and once again they slipped into a pleasant silence. Zane suddenly had a thought. If Kai didn't seem to know about other animals, did he know about himself?

"Now Uhm, don't take this the wrong way but, you do know what you are, correct?" He asked carefully.

"You mean besides an angel-turned-demon who's damned for all eternity?" Kai said in a sarcastic tone.

"Yes."

"Then, of course, I know."

"Excellent! Care to say it out loud?"

"I already told you; my name's Kai," The demon grinned. He felt his heart miss a beat, and not in a good way. The thump was alarmingly prominent like his vessel-body was trying to alert him to take note of what this creature was saying. There was no possible way this demon could be this naive. Something else was amiss.

"Yes, I know your name, but I'm asking if you know what you are; do you know what you are?" He asked again and Kai's expression gradually changed from enjoyment to being perplexed. His brow furrowed as he stared off, eyes flicking around as if searching for something but simply grew more confused.

"What am I?" Kai finally asked, getting annoyed by the question.

"A serpent, dear," Zane replied for the demon. Evidently, Kai's face fell back to puzzlement once more and Zane's mouth fell open. It was evident that word meant nothing to the demon. "You don't know what a serpent is, do you?" He asked, almost sadly, Kai shrugged it off.

"What of it?"

"That's what you are!"

"So? What's so important with needing to know the ins and outs of a serpent? Why do you care if I know or not?" Kai snapped, experimenting with the new word in his mouth.

"No need to get upset, I was only trying to help," Zane said as he raised his arms in defense to try to quickly diffuse the tension. He watched Kai focus on the humans again, and it was clear something he had said or done bothered the demon immensely. He felt terrible, and then suddenly that scent came back. Only recently Zane had caught this aroma in the air. It comes and goes with the wind, but the longer he had been here the less deniable it had become.

Never had it been invasive or overbearing, but the angel noticed he could pick it out no matter what kind of stronger scents surrounded it.

Right now, this very moment, it was hitting him stronger than it ever had before.

"Looks like the lion's down," Kai added, noting how successful the humans were doing so far. Another rumble of thunder accompanied by that bright flash pushed ever closer. Perhaps Kai had caught a whiff of the scent?

"Do you smell that?" The angel asked, sniffing the air.

"What?" Kai asked and Zane realized he had made a poor judgment.

"Never mind." The angel shrugged off awkwardly, but thankfully the demon didn't push it. They stood there in silence for a short while, before Kai glanced over at Zane, and his snake eyes suddenly narrowed.

"Wait, where are your shurikens anyway? I thought you had a pair that froze anything they touched?" He asked and Zane froze in fear. "Did you have one, or didn't you? Because now I'm confused."

"How do you mean?" The angel asked as he began to feel uneasy.

"Well, your presence here no longer makes sense, so what are you doing here Snowflake?"

"I'm-"

"Are you lost?"

"No, I'm... you're trying to confuse me." Zane accused as his heart started to race,

"I'm trying to confuse you?" Kai almost laughed, and this made Zane even more defensive.

"Yes! That's what your kind do and I will not be swayed into it!" He stated in the strongest voice he could muster at that moment, his chest puffing out slightly as he did. Zane knew he was being cornered. He knew this whole thing was a setup to get him to lose ground or faith or doubt himself in his duties for the choices he'd made and how thanks to him everything was ruined. But that wasn't what upset Zane. He was upset that he fell for it.

He had failed again.

God must have been testing him early and he has failed another one. Or perhaps not? He may have caught it in time, he could still redeem himself if he stayed strong.

"You're the one who's doing the confusing here," Kai lectured. "You're supposed to have some freezing shurikens, which I could've sworn you had, and that would make sense for a Cherub to have in order to guard the Garden of Eden, but let's face it, you're terrible at guarding, and you don't have your shurikens so I ask you again; what are you doing here?" He scowled and a boom of thunder emphasized the demon's point. Zane took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, eyes closed.

All he had to do was be honest, true, and stop being distracted by the alluring visage before him.

"I...I gave them away."

"You gave them away?!"

"Shh! Not so loud!" He panicked, already forgetting the pep-talk he gave himself. "I don't want the head office to hear! Besides, they're not lost or anything; they're right there, see? The humans have it now." The angel explained and pointed to the humans slowly fading in the distance with a pair of remarkably bright-looking objects in the hands of one of them. Kai looked back to the tiny figures, then to the angel. Then back to the figures, and once again to the angel.

Then suddenly, what Zane could only describe as a ridiculously big stupid grin spread over the demon's face, the creature did an unexplainable thing.

He started to laugh, laugh, and laugh some more. It became so severe they turned into fits, gripping his stomach. That damned thing lost its balance and fell to the floor. He rolled around, it wracking his body to near spasm levels, and during it all, he had the utter nerve to speak to the angel at the same time.

"Oh, I would love to be there for your first report! Glad to know I'm not the only one who interfered." He cackled, and his grin grew when he saw the confusion on Zane's face. "What? Where did you think Adam got that flaming sword from?" He laughed and Zane gasped at the realization that Kai had been the one to give Adam the sword, a weapon of Hell. "I hope it doesn't turn out that they aren't too bright yet when it comes to violent weaponry and the use of fire and ice so they somehow kill themselves!"

Zane's paled, even more, when Kai's words sank in.

The angel finally realized that he could get in a great deal of trouble for this. Everything Kai pointed out was more than plausibly true and may happen once the humans were out of sight. This was serious. Even so, he couldn't stop a giggle bubble up to the surface. Watching Kai, he found out, was contagious. It started small but soon grew to a level that was painful to hold in. He tried to stifle it, tried to bite it back with his teeth against his tongue, but it was hopeless.

Zane covered his mouth and did his best to hide it from the cackling demon.

"That's not funny, I beseech you, stop laughing!" He tried to say normally but cracked on the last word. He clenched a fist and nearly begged the other to spare him. Kai rolled to face him and Zane was almost lost again when he saw tears running down his cheeks. He had no choice but to turn away and fisted his hands tightly by his sides. "No! No, I refuse to believe in your trickery! This isn't a joke!" The angel yelled, not caring what he said so long as this lark would end.

Within time, Kai calmed down, breathing heavily.

"They're going to be fine, Snowflake, I'm only teasing you," He said while a chuckle or two still found its way out. "Look how well they have handled themselves against their first threat, and they've only just set foot out there; if I hadn't given them that sword and you hadn't given them the shurikens they would be torn to pieces by now, we saved them." Zane heard from behind him a tired sigh. The loudest thunder roll cracked out, the very appearance of the clouds above threatening their next level to come soon.

The flutter from inside Zane's chest came back.

But, somehow it was stronger this time around. He turned back to face the other being and took notice of how Kai laid there. Wings relaxed, hands resting on the stomach, one leg bent. He was comfortable. Kai, an evil enemy, was content to lay there in his presence. Zane could easily smite him. He would technically be within reason, for what Kai had done concerning the apple. It would be simple, quick, and clean. But that never even crossed his pure mind.

He strode over to the brunette and reached down a hand with a winning smile of his own.

"My name is Zane; it's nice to meet you." He introduced and Kai's eyes widened. He wasn't expecting that. He stared at the hand as if he had never seen its kind before. He appeared unsure of what step to take next. Zane gave him time, not pulling away yet. Soon enough, Kai eventually smiled.

"Hello, Zane, it's nice to meet you, too," He replied and reached up with his own hand, clasped the inviting one, and was hoisted up. Zane nearly dropped the demon, however. Once they touched, the contact was not at all what he was expecting. He cried out, yanking his hand away, and jumped back. His other hand clasped it around the wrist and pulled it close. Zane stared from his hand to Kai in either astonishment or fear. He couldn't decide which it was.

Kai just raised an eyebrow at him, perplexed as to what had happened.

"Oh! Forgive me but, you're so hot! To the touch, I mean!" He stammered as he did his best to explain but not offend.

"Naturally." Kai shrugged. Zane shook his head, confused.

"This is a normal occurrence?"

"Of course," The demon said casually, amused by the reaction from the angel. He crossed his arms, took a deep, over-exaggerated breath. "Being a fallen angel, or more accurate, a demon from the fiery pits of Hell now, so to answer your question; being boiling hot is normal for demons like me," He smiled. The next boom of thunder rumbled on for some time. It was as if the sky was growling its impatience for being ignored.

"Is that all?"

"Yep," Kai replied, but he didn't seem to care. The brunette then opened his mouth and exhaled. The air in front of it appeared to ripple several inches outward. Zane walked up to it, mesmerized, and like a baby who was still testing out the world for the first time, he reached out a hand and ran it through it. It was warm, heated air coming out. It wasn't painful in the slightest. The angel beamed as he wiggled his fingers around it. He kept it up until Kai closed his mouth, grinning at Zane's blush.

Zane was about to agree, then stopped himself and wondered why this was brought up in the first place.

"Anywho, going back to your shuriken conversation with His Almighty, if you can't find humor even in the direst situations, then what's the point of it?" He asked and Zane visibly shook his wings at the way Kai mockingly talked about the Lord. Ignoring that, however, Zaen wasn't sure what he thought of that advice, but he secretly tucked it away in the back of his mind all the same.

"You'll be alright, he loves all of you unquestionably," Kai added and Zane paused. Did he hear that right? Had a fallen angel, a being who willfully rebelled against God just casually admit the Lord adored all of them? Without a second thought about it? What was going on here? Zane turned his head and glanced at the demon. The brunette was rigid stiff. Amber eyes hard, staring intently straight ahead. Jaw clenched. He could see the dark one's fingers turning white from how hard he was gripping his own arms.

So it was a mistake.

He didn't mean to say it. Now at least something about this villain makes sense to him.

"I wonder how far up we are?" Kai suddenly blurted out with a jerk of his head, and then just took off, running over and standing right on the edge of the wall cliff. His red and black wings thrusting out just so as to counter the body weight from tumbling over. Zane gasped and ran after but stayed himself some steps later. For a split moment, he chastised himself for the idea of wanting to save the enemy. But most of the time he was too busy worrying about the brunette disappearing suddenly from his sight.

The wind had picked up some, and was a tad rougher on Kai's clothes and hair, yanking and blowing it around like a dare to take another step.

The demon suddenly moaned, but Zane couldn't tell what he meant. The angel moved fast and was standing next to them once the groan had been uttered.

"Are you alright?" He panicked.

"I don't like heights," The demon mumbled. The eyes were closed and they appeared to be swaying.

"Then get away from the edge, you silly thing!" Zane shouted, grasping the other and guiding him down to safety. When he unclosed his eyes, he got defensive.

"I just wanted to see how far down it was!" He hissed angrily, but Zane just rolled his eyes and neither of them said anything more on the subject. Water from the skies began to fall. When it hit them they shied away from it on the first drops. Zane figured it out quicker than the other one did. Kai seemed a little lost to this experience, unsure of what to do or how to react to it. Kai must have sensed eyes on him, for he turned to catch the angel's icy orbs.

Zane, at this point he stopped trying to reason it, opened an arm, lifted a wing, and beckoned the other in.

To say he was surprised the demon actually moved closer was a hardball to juggle. So many unusual and unexpected things happened in such as short time. He wasn't even sure how he felt. He didn't seem the least bit repulsed when Kai stood so close they nearly touched shoulders, and he could feel the heat of the other's temperature radiating onto him. The demon kept glancing at him, shifting on his bare feet. Eventually, he opened his mouth and asked what seemed to be on his mind.

"No hard feelings between us, yes? After all; I was only doing what I was so ordered to, on pain of repercussion, and all that." He said, looking a little nervous. This made the pale angel go quiet. Unsure of whether to trust what this thing was saying or if he was lying to him and this was planned the whole time. Whichever it was, he hadn't the heart to be cruel.

"No, I daresay, no hard feelings; it's too early for that yet." He replied and another silence surrounded them. Every once in a while, they would both stick their hands out to catch the water droplets on their palms then bring them in under the protection of the angel's wing. Even if they both refused to admit it, Kai and Zane felt at peace at that moment. Where it was just the two of them, huddled together as they experienced the first rainfall with the young planet Earth...

[ohbae-me]

"and then i knew that i could become homesick for you too" or "I missed being with you like this" with mammon, please !

Hope it’s okay I combined these two! They just worked so perfectly. Again, this ended up longer than planned, and I even had to shorten it down and stop myself from adding on another couple thousand words. I have too many Mammon feels. I hope this one is okay! I had a lot I wanted to add, but felt like it was too much..

Mammon x MC; SFW, fluff

Ever since MC had gone home, an air of gloom had stuck around the House of Lamentation. No one had talked about it, but it went without saying that things were just much less interesting without the constant shenanigans MC used to rope them all into somehow. 

Lucifer had expected there to be an adjustment period after she left, seeing how close all seven of his brothers had gotten with her. Even the eldest himself had to admit that he missed her. But what Lucifer hadn’t anticipated was Mammon’s reaction. He’d known his younger brother was closest to the human, and that he’d cared for her a great deal. However, Lucifer had known him for thousands of years. Watched him chase many romantic feats, for better or worse. Mammon had always lost interest quickly, pursuing his next venture with renewed vigor. Whether it be his next money making scheme, or his next fling, Mammon never sulked for long. It was probably the one aspect of Mammon’s personality that Lucifer actually admired. 

It had been several months now since she’d returned home. It was time for Lucifer to step in. Discreetly, of course.  

As he’d made his way around the rooms for surprise inspections, he’d casually let it slip to Mammon that he’d be gone the next day as he had important business in the human world. And it just so happens that it’s in the same city as their former exchange student. 

Lucifer put on a good show of initially denying Mammon the chance to accompany him. He let him beg and plead his little heart out before the first born oh so graciously agreed to let him come. 

Mammon had been laying on his bed, aimlessly flipping through various apps on his phone. Nothing quite seemed to peak his interest though, he thought with a sigh. His eyes fell on his home screen, a photo of him and MC with the alien-panda stuffie she had made. The one still sitting on his bed that he often woke up clutching. 

He had been so lost in thought, he almost hadn’t noticed Lucifer enter his room for inspection. He barely acknowledged his elder brother as he went about his business, until he heard Lucifer mention that he’d be visiting the human world. Specifically MC’s home city. 

Mammon couldn’t fly out of bed fast enough to block Lucifer from leaving the room. He’d begged and pleaded and made more promises than he’d probably ever be able to keep, but Lucifer had finally agreed. 

He would get to see MC again!

Mammon spent the rest of the night outlining how he’d wanted it to go. He’d planned the perfect lines. She’d be so impressed by how suave he was! He wondered if she’d hug him tight and tell him she missed him, like he himself has been so desperate to do.  He hadn’t gotten to say everything he’d wanted to before she left, and the regret seized his heart and mind every single day that she’d been gone. 

He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

The next morning, Mammon beat Lucifer to his study. He’d been leaning against the doorway, tapping his foot when the eldest turned the corner, eyebrow quirked. He knew Mammon would be eager, but it was almost unheard of for any of his brothers to beat him anywhere. 

Lucifer, deciding not to push to matter, simply handed Mammon a slip of paper with an address written on it. 

“Don’t forget, if you do anything to cause Lord Diavolo or myself any problems whatsoever-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mammon waved it off. He knew his punishment if he caused any trouble, and he certainly wasn’t going to risk never being able to visit MC again. “Best behavior and whatnot.”

Lucifer sighed. He hoped he wouldn’t regret this.

It had been a while since Mammon had last been allowed to roam the human world, but he found it familiar still. It was a lot like MC had described to him. He found a taxi easily enough, and gave the driver the address. 

Mammon’s heart raced as the cab pulled up to an apartment building. It looked classy compared to some of the other places they had passed, and Mammon was impressed. Once he was standing outside her door though, Mammon felt himself falter, mind blank. Damn it! He’d planned this out so perfectly too! Every last line meticulously devised to impress MC when he finally saw her again. 

His heart stopped altogether when he heard the lock click and handle turn. He stood there frozen, arm raised like he was about to knock, face to face with a wide eyed MC. 

“Mammon?! You scared me half to death! What are you doing here?!” She stood there in shock, hand over her chest trying to calm her heart. She hadn’t expected someone to be standing right there, let alone a demon. 

Words, Mammon, words! He scolded himself.

“W-well, I happened to have some very important business here, and I figured you must be dyin for a visit from THE Mammon! You should be honored-”

He was cut off by a squeal, followed by MC throwing herself at him, her arms locking around his neck in death grip. 

“I’m so happy to see you, Mammon! I missed you so much.” He thinks he hears her voice wavering, like she’s about to cry. He feels something bloom deep in his chest under her warmth. He lets himself drop the act, wrapping his arms tightly around MC’s waist, burying his face in her hair. It felt so familiar, and just so damned perfect that it hurt. 

He doesn’t know how long they stood like that, but he felt her pull away and reluctantly loosened his grip. She took his hand and pulled him into her apartment. Her place was nice, he thought. Clean, spacious, and very much MC. 

“You should have told me you were coming! I would have planned something fun to do." 

"Nah, we don’t have to go out or nothin’, let’s just hangout here.” Mammon said as he took in the surprisingly lavish apartment. “Nice place.”

“We’ll I had to find somewhere new after I got back seeing as my old apartment was occupied. At least Lord Diavolo and Barbatos had my stuff moved to storage while I was gone so I didn’t lose my things. Turns out I had a fair amount of money in my account when I returned, and this place just kinda fell in my lap.” She shrugged. 

She gave him a quick tour, and he couldn’t help but smile when they got to her bedroom. She had modeled it to look almost identical to the one she lived in back home. Just more human-like. Instead of enchantment lanterns, she’d hung coloured string lights above her bed. Various plants bloomed all around the room, and there was even a desk and bookcase that looked like they were pulled right out of the Devildom. 

“Should we order food and watch a movie then? Just like old times?” She asked him. “On me, of course.”

“Woohoo! That’s a good human.” She laughed as he ruffled her hair and he felt his body warm at the sound. He didn’t realize just how much he’d missed it. How much he needed to hear it again. 

As the night went on MC told Mammon all about her new life in the human world. She had made new work friends, and one gentleman in particular had seemed quite sweet on her. Mammon didn’t like him. But, she seemed happy and enthusiastic, so he listened, interjecting his own opinions when needed. He could listen to her talk about anything, honestly. All he really cared about was that they were cuddled up together on her couch, eating pizza like they always did. 

It was late when they’d finally gotten around to watching the movie. He’d noticed MC kept looking over at him throughout the film, then she’d look away quickly and busy herself by picking at loose threads in her blanket. It was starting to make him anxious. 

“Ehh, you keep staring at me instead of watching the film. What’s up?" 

"It’s just… it doesn’t feel the same here anymore. The human world I mean. I’ve tried so hard to make it feel normal..” She avoided his gaze, back to picking at her blanket. “But you being here with me, it feels like home." 

Mammon’s heart skipped a beat. He wanted to say something cool, but found he couldn’t. He took in the sad expression on her face and reached over to grab her arm, pulling her onto his lap and wrapping his arms around her. Had she been just as troubled as he had been since she’s returned? The thought of her sitting here sad and alone felt like someone was ripping his heart right out of his chest. 

"I missed being with you like this, too.” The rest of the movie went forgotten as they snuggled into each other, both unwilling to let go for fear that this might have to end. 

Mammon always got what he wanted, one way or another. He was going to find a way to bring MC back to the Devildom where she belonged. 

And he’d promised her as such as he slipped the ring off his pinky and onto hers. 

He’d figure out the details later. Right now he just wanted to enjoy this. He wiped away the tears that had slipped down her cheek and finally got the rest of those kisses he had missed out on that day on the balcony.

[clonecest-bin-account]

And another one, and another one

Ship: Wolffe/Comet/Sinker/Boost

Rating: E

AO3 link

Comet, Sinker and Boost have an interesting proposition for Wolffe... It's going to be good.

@gobayern16 was very kind to commission me, so enjoy 10k words about Wolffe getting absolutely wrecked multiple times!

It’s rare for them to get some actual free time, but if you’d go looking for someone complaining about it, you wouldn’t find anything.

There’s a small group of people that is exceptionally happy about this. Well, one of them still isn’t aware about this fact, but the others are planning, which brings us to a familiar scene at 79’s.

It’s not rare to see Boost, Sinker and Comet all grouped up at a table, drinking and happily discussing whatever topic their less than sober minds can come up with. They’re often joined by Wolffe too, but not tonight: he said that he was too tired for 79’s and that he was going straight to sleep after latemeal.

“I don’t blame him, honestly. He always works so hard,” Comet muses. He suspects his absence is the reason why he’s been invited, but that wouldn’t be fair to Sinker and Boost: even though it took them quite some time to warm up to him, eventually the old Wolfpack members have accepted him as one of their own. Sure, the fact that Wolffe has staked a claim on him surely has helped, but this doesn’t mean that they didn’t do it on their own volition as well.

“He does…” Sinker mutters, while Boost, although not speaking directly, gives them a nod and takes a shot of this new cocktail that has been added to the menu. He has no clue about what the hell is in there, but it’s spicy so he likes it.

 For a moment it’s like a wave of sobriety comes crashing against all of them at the thought of the dear Commander working his ass off for them. They really couldn’t ask for a better man to lead them into battle.

Then, there’s an idea; maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s just because he’s horny, maybe it’s a little bit of both, who cares. Whatever it is, it doesn’t change what Comet says: “You know what we should do?”

Both Boost and Sinker turn towards him. “What?” They ask, in perfect unison.

A smirk appears on Comet’s lips as he savors each and every single word that leaves his mouth. “Thank him, properly, with a time full of excitement.”

Boost almost spits out his drink. It’s not because what Comet has just suggested is something they can’t do, it’s just that… Fuck, they really should do that.

“You have something in mind?” Sinker asks him, clearly interested as well.

Comet nods.

“I might…”

 Devising a plan isn’t hard at all given that the Wolfpack is well known for how good they are at working together towards the same goal, especially when this is the objective they’re pursuing: the Commander deserves a good time, a very good time, and they all intend on delivering it.

Now they only need to make Wolffe privy of what is going to happen to him.

 Finding him isn’t hard: after going back to the barracks and sleeping the rest of the night away, Comet, Sinker and Boost meet at the cafeteria for breakfast. It’s there that they spot Wolffe, intent on drinking some caf as he goes through what he probably thinks is just the first of the many datapads he’ll fill out for the day. He still has no idea about how wrong he is.

Once they get some food on their trails, the three troopers approach him. Nobody else is sitting at Wolffe’s table, which makes discussing what they need to discuss with him easier; not that it would’ve been a problem if someone else were present, but at least this gives them the illusion of privacy, which isn’t bad either.

Wolffe notices their approach and he nods at them - a sign that despite being early morning, he must be in a good mood or else he wouldn’t have even acknowledged them - then however his gaze falls on Boost, and he narrows his eyes as he observes him.

“Hangover?” he asks. Considering that he knew that they were going to 79’s since they invited him, it wasn’t hard for him to put two and two together.

“Yup,” Boost replies, then he hisses, taking one hand off the trail to massage his temple. Everything hurts so badly.

Wolffe sends an understanding nod his way; if he had gone with them, there are high chances that he’d be in similar conditions. In the end refusing to go has been for the best: now he feels well rested and ready to go through another day. He really needed that one full night of refreshing sleep.

And maybe that’s why, as soon as he’s joined by his fellow troopers, he immediately knows that they’re planning something, something that must involve him, or else they wouldn’t have approached him. What could it be? He has no idea, though he has the feeling he won’t have to wait long before he finds out.

 “So, Commander…” Comet, the designed speaker it seems, begins, but he’s already dragging this too much for Wolffe’s tastes.

“Out with it.”

He can’t help but to smirk behind his caf mug at the surprised way the others are looking at him, like they can’t comprehend how it can be that he’s immediately onto their shit; as if he doesn’t know them at all.

“So?” he encourages them, eyes on Comet who, after the first moment of surprise, chuckles, shaking his head.

“Straight to the point, I see…” he mumbles between himself, amused, then he turns towards Wolffe. “We have a proposition for you… Sir.”

Given the interested way Boost and Sinker perk up at those words, as if they’re eagerly attending for an answer, Wolffe gathers that whatever it is they have planned, it must be something fun, that kind of fun. He puts his mug down.

“Oh? Do tell, Comet.”

 Even though three against one is hardly fair, Wolffe still isn’t regretting his choice to participate in this… endeavor.

If there’s one thing he’d like to change, however, is that he wouldn’t want to be the only one naked; it makes him feel exposed. There’s something else, however, something that he never knew about himself until now: if thinking about a similar situation would’ve made him uncomfortable in theory, in practice it… He doesn’t know exactly how to describe it, but it isn’t bad at all. It makes him shiver in anticipation at the thought of what they are going to do to him.

He gets distracted from his thoughts at the feeling of fingers beginning to trail across his body. He opens his eyes again and sees Comet between his legs, hands carefully massaging his thighs.

“Still here, Wolffe?” he asks, noticing that he was spacing out.

“Yeah,” Wolffe nods. “Still here.”

 He doesn’t get to say anything else because he feels lips come crashing against his. By the way he’s being aggressively kissed, he knows immediately who it is: fucking Boost. Thinking about it, he did hear them talking about “who should get his hands on him first”, to which he suggested that they could just do it all together; he can handle it.

Now, however, as Sinker joins in with the touches as well, he starts to believe that maybe he overestimated himself-- No, he can handle it. They’ve just started for Fett’s sake!

Still, no matter how hard he tries to focus, he soon loses himself in the kisses and the touches. He lets his body do the talking, arching when a particularly sensitive spot is touched, shivering and twitching at the sensation.

Boost kisses like a hungry wolf, taking everything Wolffe has to give; he’s given up on trying to take even a small form of control, giving Boost the reins. He almost feels out of breath just for this, but don’t get him wrong, he’s loving it: there are times in which he needs to get out of his mind, and this is a perfect way to do it. Hell, Wolffe would even say that it’s the best way to do it.

 A surprised moan escapes his lips at the feeling of something wet against one of his nipples. His view is completely obscured by Boost, so he can’t see who it is that is licking the sensitive nub to full hardness, but he doesn’t need to wonder anymore when another tongue joins in, licking the other. It’s both of them.

He almost shouts when one of the two - it must be Comet, he’s usually the more daring of the trio - closes his teeth around it, gently biting it, but every sound he makes gets eaten up and successfully muffled by Boost’s mouth.

He’s barely been touched, but his cock is already hard against his stomach, overwhelmed in the best of ways by all these attentions. When he feels fingers brushing against it, all he can do is to spread his legs further in the hopes that it will get the message he wants to send across, which is that they can touch him further.

“Eager, Commander?” Sinker chuckles, though despite the teasing tone he can’t help but to marvel at how willing and yes, eager, Wolffe is being. To him this still feels more like a wet dream than reality, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t have some fun with it, hence why he closes his fist more tightly around Wolffe’s cock, but he still doesn’t move it, causing Wolffe to buck his hips up in an attempt to get some friction - if Sinker isn’t going to do it, he’ll do it himself.

Of course, however, as soon as he begins moving, a couple of hands settle on his sides, keeping him still. Boost pulls away, giving the Commander’s lips a last lick before saying: “Oh no, Wolffe, you’re not going to do anything.”

His words are final, and Wolffe is smart enough to understand that they might resolve to do something drastic if he doesn’t obey - he shivers just thinking about the possibility of them leaving him to take care of himself on his own - but this doesn’t mean that he’s not going to challenge them.

“Then do something,” he growls. Despite wanting to smirk at the way Boost swallows at his tone, he keeps his frown, knowing that, at the moment, it’s his most effective weapon. It doesn’t last long, however, as Sinker, after exchanging a gaze with Comet - takes that warning as a cue to get going, beginning to jerk Wolffe off in earnest.

“Better?” he teases then, chuckling when Wolffe moans in reply.

“Mmh… Leave some for us, Sinker,” Boost growls, moving down to mouth at Wolffe’s neck, biting down on the tender flesh. It hurts but in the best of ways. Wolffe always has a great time marking them, it’s only fair to let them do the same to him.

 They must’ve planned everything in great detail, because if they haven’t then Wolffe can’t explain how they manage to move so in sync, with Boost taking care of his neck and shoulders, Comet biting down on his chest and Sinker that focuses on his legs while he keeps moving his fist around his cock.

Wolffe doesn’t know what to do, and neither what he should focus on. Whenever he moves, they move right with him, unless he begins moving too much, in that case they all work together to hold him up and force him to stay still; it’s a struggle to break their hold on him, but the more they go on, the less Wolffe feels like trying to challenge them.

“Kriff!” he swears when Boost twists his nipple, watching amused the Commander’s reaction at the stimulation. He gets shut off immediately by Comet; it’s his turn to take possession of Wolffe’s lips, which he captures in a heated kiss.

The way Comet kisses is different than Boost’s. He’s way more playful, engaging Wolffe in what looks more like a dance than an actual kiss; he loves to give Wolffe the impression of having an opening, but as soon as he tries to take advantage of it, he switches their position, pressing his tongue inside with even more insistence, making Wolffe moan not only because of the hand on his cock.

Speaking of which…

 “Mmmh, what should we do?” Sinker asks.

“I wanna watch him come,” Boost replies, immediately.

“But wouldn’t it be too soon?”

“Who cares? We can always go again.”

Wolffe growls in the kiss, feeling left out of the conversation when he shouldn’t be, since it regards him especially. Still, even when Comet pulls away he finds himself unable to speak, not with Comet’s hand pressed tightly against his mouth - it makes him shiver.

“I say we make him come, so he’ll be all relaxed and loose for later,” Comet proposes then. His comment is welcomed by a pair of grins.

At this point, Comet removes the hand from Wolffe’s mouth, replacing it with his lips again, kissing him more softly this time, like he’s asking for forgiveness. Wolffe could drag this out a bit more, let Comet work for it, but he immediately melts into the kiss, parting his lips and welcoming Comet to ravage him to his heart’s content.

That’s not the only reason why Wolffe goes pliant, of course: Sinker has lowered his head until he’s at the same height of his cock and, after a low chuckle, he sticks his tongue out, slowly licking a stripe from base to head, making Wolffe shiver in anticipation for what’s to come. Soon, in fact, Sinker begins to take him in his mouth, inch by inch, until his nose is tickled by dark pubic hair; it feels so wet and warm that Wolffe tries to buckle his hips up in an attempt to get more, but they’re all still holding him down, so no matter how hard he tries, he can’t move an inch.

Ever so slowly, Sinker moves his head up again; a wet pop can be heard when Wolffe’s cock slides out of his mouth. Was that it?

Wolffe barely has the time to finish that thought before Sinker goes down on him again, bobbing his head a few times before pulling away again, swirling his tongue against the head. Didn’t they say that they were going to make him come? If Sinker keeps going at that teasing pace he might have to take matters into his own hands and show everybody present how it’s done, no matter the fact that they’re three against one.

He manages to sneak a hand under Comet with the intention of grabbing Sinker by the hair, only to be intercepted by Boost before he can do that.

“What did we tell you, sir?” he asks, tone obviously teasing, then he turns to Comet. “Make sure he doesn’t do it anymore.”

To Wolffe’s disappointment, Comet pulls away. He nods to Boost, but for a moment he loses himself into Wolffe’s clouded eyes, only for his gaze to travel to his swollen darker lips; he already looks positively debauched, and they’ve only just begun.

After that observation, he settles behind Wolffe, making him rest his head on his lap while he stretches his hands to hold his above his head; normally the Commander would have no problems breaking free from that, but they’ve chipped at his willpower enough to know that he might toss around a bit, but he won’t try to actually break free. This is something he needs, after all; it’s nice to relinquish control to someone else for a while, it frees him of some of the great weight he has to shoulder every day.

 Now that his mouth isn’t “busy” anymore, Wolffe feels even more exposed than before: no matter how hard he bites his lips, there are a few noises that still manage to escape.

Besides, he can’t really hold back anymore when Boost nuzzles his neck and says: “Like that, Wolffe. Let us hear you.”

Maybe it’s an encouragement, but as soon as those words are uttered, Sinker begins to suck him off more vehemently, just like Wolffe wanted before. It makes him arch into it, as much as he’s allowed to at least, relentlessly moaning his pleasure out loud.

Oh kriffing hells, he’s so close…

 Boost suddenly moves down, joining Sinker between Wolffe’s legs. What is he…?

“Hey, scoot over,” he says, shoving Sinker with his shoulder. “I wanna taste him too.”

Another moan, louder than the previous ones, leaves Wolffe’s lips at the view he has in front of his eyes of Sinker pulling away, only for Boost to immediately replace him, eagerly moving up and down Wolffe’s cock - he really looks hungry for it. That’s not all, however, because Sinker doesn’t appreciate being left out of such a tasty treat, and shoves Boost back; the two stare at each other only a moment, but it’s enough for them to reach a silent agreement: to Wolffe’s surprise, they both go down on his dick, licking on their respective sides until it comes down to a full makeout session with Wolffe’s cock between them.

The visual, plus the sensation of their tongues swirling around the tip in such a way, is enough to tipple Wolffe over the edge.

“Kriff!” he moans, loud, as he comes, getting some of his load on both Sinker and Boost’s face which is, in Wolffe’s humble opinion, quite hot. From the way their pupils grow wider, they must enjoy it too, even too much: Sinker growls, suddenly crawling over Wolffe’s body, and kisses him. This time Wolffe can taste himself on the other’s lips, a sensation that makes him shudder - but in a good way.

He thought that he’d get at least a break, but no: Sinker’s so fired up that he’s already back with his hand on his cock, jerking him off but without the loose teasing pace from before, opting instead to go hard and fast. No, there’s nothing gentle in the way he moves.

“Oh fuck…” It hurts so kriffing bad! “Oh fuck!”

He tries to move away, but Boost takes a hold of his hips, keeping him still.

“Ssh…” he begins then, running a hand over Wolffe’s hair soothingly. “It’ll get good soon, I promise.”

Wolffe isn’t sure he should believe him; he’s still so oversensitive, he needs time for Fett’s sake!

 “Ok, guys, let him breathe.”

Comet’s voice sounds so sweet right now, Wolffe thinks. He’s his savior.

He might’ve spoken too soon, however, because there’s nothing savior-like in the way Comet switches place with Sinker, and especially in the way he gets the lube.

He settles between Wolffe’s legs, giving him a playful bite on the side of his knee - chuckling at the way Wolffe’s body jerks at that.

“Alright, sir,” he says, voice low and sensual, “I’m gonna open you up real good, then I’m going to let them fuck you all nice and slow, how does that sound?”

Wolffe grumbles something, but it’s not clear enough to be understandable.

“What did you say, sir?”

Wolffe hesitates, munching on his already ruined lower lip before uttering: “… Please.”

“Oh! Begging already?” Comet comments, looking even more eager than he did just a moment ago. Wolffe begging would do that to you.

He coats his fingers in lube, then he slowly brings them between Wolffe’s ass, hovering them over his entrance, making it twitch from the anticipation alone.

“Comet…”

“Patience, sir,” the trooper begins, then an idea strikes him. It’s a good way to keep Wolffe busy - he won’t complain that way. “Hey, sir, you made quite a mess on Boost and Sinker. Why don’t you clean them up?”

Wolffe shivers at those words, then he nods, and then he nods again, and again, each time more eagerly than the previous one.

To reward him for such an enthusiastic response, Comet slips one finger inside. He goes slowly, carefully, knowing well that the first is always the hardest one to get inside. It’s hypnotizing watching the way it disappears inside Wolffe…

Comet leans closer, deciding last minute to begin lapping at Wolffe’s entrance, wiggling his tongue right at the edge of it.

“Comet!”

 Wolffe can’t believe that he’s already beginning to get hard again. Comet is that good, he supposes.

His thoughts are interrupted, however, by a rather smug looking Sinker, who shows Wolffe the side of his face he came on. He also got his upper blacks dirty, but he refuses to do anything about those.

“Well, sir?” What is Wolffe supposed to do, with such an invitation?

He’s still being held back, meaning that he can barely lean closer with his head, but Sinker doesn’t mind getting closer to help him - how nice of him.

Wolffe begins slowly, deliberately licking Sinker clean. It’s weird having to clean them in such a way, but it’s not that bad. It’s quite good actually, in a way.

Once he’s done, Sinker turns towards him and he kisses him, running a hand over his chest as a thank you. When it’s Boost time to get cleaned, however, he doesn’t stop with the motions, and soon goes back to his nipples, still puffy and darker in color from before. He has no qualms tugging them again, twisting them in the way he knows Wolffe likes, making him moan right on Boost’s face, which in turn only manages to make him more aroused.

“Wolffe…” Boost moans in fact once he’s done cleaning him too. Maker, he feels so hard he thinks he might explode.

Thankfully for him, Wolffe has understood immediately what he wants and, of course, he’s not going to deny him. He doesn’t need to say anything, he just opens his mouth, letting his tongue out. A clear invitation.

At that view, Boost immediately scrambles to his knees, freeing his painfully hard erection from its constraints and bringing it to his lips. Wolffe doesn’t think about it not even a moment before swallowing him down, blowing him at the best of his abilities; normally he wouldn’t do such a sloppy job, but he’s already drowsy from his first orgasm, and the fact that Comet hasn’t stopped opening him up doesn’t help at all-- Shit, is he at two fingers already? He didn’t even notice it, too busy with Sinker and Boost.

 Speaking of Comet, he’s having the time of his life opening Wolffe up. The second fingers went is so smoothly that it makes Comet muse whether he’s already prepared enough for them or needs more, but eventually he decides to play with him a bit longer; besides, he seems to be having a good time blowing Boost that he doesn’t want to take that away from him just yet. Besides, he might’ve gotten a new idea, an idea that he will however disclose later.

Sure, they might all be playing with Wolffe, but this doesn’t mean that he doesn’t get to toy with Boost and Sinker as well.

For now he focuses back on Wolffe, twisting his fingers inside him, brushing against that spot that makes him whine and moan; at first he barely brushes against the bundle of nerves, but as Wolffe’s cock grows harder, he begins to rub against it more insistently, without any kind of mercy, even when Wolffe’s body begins to jerk and twist around again - Sinker is holding him down, he’ll be fine.

He mouths at Wolffe’s balls, beginning to suck on them eagerly. If it helps Wolffe get fully hard again, so be it.

A third finger slides inside without any problem. Now Wolffe’s pushing against them more insistently, clearly eager for more.

“See? Boost was right: it doesn’t hurt anymore, doesn’t it?”

Wolffe nods, though the sound gets swallowed down by the way Boost begins to rock his hips, pushing his cock in and out Wolffe’s mouth. Oh yes, Boost must be close to coming; only then he gets like this.

It means it’s time for Comet to share his idea.

“Think you’re ready for our cocks, sir?” he asks first, still twisting his fingers inside Wolffe. The Commander would’ve given a clear response to that question, but Boost doesn’t want to pull away at all, so he just nods, knowing that doing so will make Boost feel all these vibrations right on his cock - that’s what he gets.

“Then how about we make it a game?” Comet continues, this time towards Sinker and Boost. “We get to fuck Wolffe, but we can come only after he does.”

“Do we get to help each other out?” Sinker asks, intrigued.

“Sure,” Comet shrugs. He really doesn’t care. A wolfish grin appears on Sinker’s lips.

“Then I’m in. Boost?”

“But I’m so close already…” he complains, perfectly understanding the game Comet is playing.

“Then I suggest you come over here quick and fuck him good,” the other replies.

Boost looks down, gaze on Wolffe. He can’t talk but he looks pleading, like he’s begging Boost to give him his cock, to fuck his little hole.

How could he ever say no?

 Even though he’s just pulled away from Wolffe, Boost misses the feeling of his mouth already, but he pulls through, knowing that what comes now will be even better.

He settles between Wolffe’s legs, but in order to take some time to cool off before ravaging him - he needs it if he’s supposed to come only after the other - he decides to add a few marks of his own to the ones Comet has already left on the Commander’s thighs. Lowering himself, he begins to bite at the soft skin, pulling a few strangled moans out of Wolffe. It’s with such a clarity that he can feel the Commander’s muscles twitch each time he bites down; he caresses his legs then, running his hands encouragingly, but as nice as it feels, Wolffe needs more.

“For Fett’s sake, Boost!” he exclaims, uncaring of how rough his voice sounds. His tone is unmistakable: if Boost doesn’t get a move on, he might do something extreme. Although the idea of Wolffe having to break free to turn them over and riding him to completion is a visual that Boost would love to see, he knows better than to let Wolffe wait when he’s like this.

“Alright, Commander. You got it,” he grumbles, turning to his previous position. He lets his body cover Wolffe - they fit splendidly well together - and rests his hands at each side of his head, sending a smile his way. “Ready?”

Wolffe rolls his eyes. “I swear, if you don’t put it in right this instant, I’m going to-- Ah!”

Boost grins at him; he was just waiting for the right moment to begin pressing inside him, and what better way than doing it while he was talking? This is the only occasion he can get away with some osik like this, so he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take advantage of it.

He’s mindful not to go too strong at first, knowing that Wolffe will need some time to adjust, but after a while has passed, he abandons every pretense: grabbing Wolffe’s legs and hosting them up his shoulders, he uses the new angle to push deeper inside him, making him moan each time he sinks inside. It’s a sound that mixes very well with the one of skin slapping against skin.

“Oh kriff! Boost!” Wolffe’s a mess of moans and wrangled sentences as he tries to direct him, until Comet gets tired of hearing him speak and silences him with a kiss.

With that view, it becomes even harder for Boost to hold back. Thankfully, Sinker - who had decided to lay back a bit for this round, since he finds himself incredibly hard as well and would rather wait it out instead of coming before having even been inside Wolffe - notices it, and sends him a question: “Do you need a hand?”

“That would be-- ngh! Appreciated…” Boost growls back, thankful that at least someone is willing to help him through this.

“I expect to be repaid,” is what Sinker says as he stretches a hand towards Wolffe’s cock, grabbing it tightly and jerking him off at the same rhythm of Boost’s thrusts. Of course that’s the game he’s playing, but Boost doesn’t mind it; he’s willing to help out later as long as Sinker makes Wolffe come faster so that he can find his release as well.

As soon as Sinker touches Wolffe, the Commander bucks his hips up, body tensing at the sensation. It’s fascinating to see how he moves: he’s always so controlled in everything he does, so it doesn’t happen often that he lets go this much, to the point that his body moves on his own against the others’.

“C’mon… c’mon…” He’s so close. He doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to hold back. If Wolffe doesn’t come soon, then he…

He almost whispers a “thank you” when Wolffe begins to come, and he watches how his cock twitches under Sinker’s ministrations, which haven’t stopped one bit: he’s going to milk him dry. At first Wolffe tries to pull away from that touch - it’s too much! - but he soon finds himself short of any sort of energy, and all he can do is to stay pliant on the bed, taking Sinker’s abuse, occasionally twitching when he brushes against a particularly sensitive spot; even kissing Comet has turned more into keeping his mouth open and let Comet move his tongue against his in whatever way he wants.

With a last grunt, Boost is finally coming as well. It’s a shame that Wolffe barely reacts but the only thing Boost is thinking about now is that he’s finally found his release after being so close to it for such a long time.

Still, he doesn’t stop moving immediately, opting instead to go for another round of thrusts, at least until his cock doesn’t begin to hurt for the overstimulation, just to get back at Wolffe for how much he’s just suffered, even though it’s not actually his fault and he knows it. Besides, this will at least keep him interested enough that Sinker, who will surely follow him into taking care of their Commander, will have an easier time. There are many things that can be said about Boost, but that he doesn’t keep his promises isn’t one of them.

 Once he finally pulls out, he almost collapses on the bed. For a moment he doesn’t move, too tired for everything, but once he lowers his gaze and notices that some of his come is beginning to leak out of Wolffe, he manages to move his hand enough to gather it, only to press it back inside Wolffe’s softened and loose hole. Again, Wolffe doesn’t react much, but he does whine a bit at the new intrusion.

“Ssh…” Boost mutters, leaning over to press a kiss to Wolffe’s temple, using then his other hand to push the hair on Wolffe’s sweaty forehead back to its original place.

He looks incredibly worn out, and Boost can’t help the feeling of pride that begins to spread inside him, because this is also thanks to him. He’s the one who fucked Wolffe so well he can barely speak.

“Can you keep it inside a bit more?” he says then, pulling his finger out only to begin tracing his rim, making Wolffe twitch.

Wolffe weakly nods, gaze tired but determined to do what Boost has just asked of him.

 “My turn now, sir…” Sinker begins then, getting up from his place and replacing Boost between his legs. He has a smirk on his face, a sign that he has something in mind, but before doing anything else, he raises his head towards Comet. “Do you wanna go?”

Comet shakes his head.

“Ladies first,” he replies with a smirk. Sinker rolls his eyes, but apart from that he doesn’t reply, mostly out of gratitude since he knows well that Comet could’ve easily tried to fight him over this, but he hasn’t. Good.

“What do you have in mind?” Boost asks. Sinker doesn’t reply immediately, but gestures for him to come closer, which he does. Then he lowers himself between Wolffe’s legs, lavishing at some of the marks the others have left on him with his tongue; as for him, he’s already bitten enough of Wolffe’s chest and neck, so he’s decided to leave his lower half alone. At that point, he pats at his thigh.

“Wolffe,” he calls him, “Can you turn around?”

The Commander makes an interrogative noise, but eventually he nods. He can’t help but to feel a bit ashamed of the fact that he needs Comet to help him in order to actually do it, but here he is now, on all fours on the bed, resting his head on his arms, which he has crossed on the mattress. Normally he’d try to move, get Sinker’s attention, tease him, but he’s barely able to stay up like this, if he moves he’d fall, he’s sure of it.

Not that he can do anything when Sinker’s hands are on him again, this time massaging his butt. He’s certainly not making things easier for him, who is supposed to still keep Boost’s load inside. Little does he know, that’s exactly Sinker’s plan.

Once the trooper spreads his entrance out, in fact, a trickle of cum manages to find its way outside, but Sinker is ready and licks it clean with a long stroke from Wolffe’s balls to his hole.

O-Oh… So that’s what he wants to do.

Wolffe twitches at the realization, causing more cum to leak out, and Sinker readily catches it with his tongue again, this time pressing it flat against Wolffe’s entrance. He takes his time with this, knowing that Wolffe will need a pause before he can actually get hard again, so there’s no reason for him to go fast, which would only get him worked up for nothing; he’s not an idiot like Boost.

Speaking of Boost…

“You son of a bantha…” he mutters under his breath, understanding immediately what Sinker’s game is. Well, he’s always been the cleverest one of the two.

Sinker doesn’t say anything, he just hums, going back immediately to lick Wolffe thoroughly, very thoroughly: he doesn’t leave not even a spot untouched, and he always makes sure to keep Wolffe on his toes, alternating from simple straightforward licks, to slow circles around his rim, to pressing his tongue inside accompanied by the occasional wiggle that makes Wolffe squirm. He can taste a mix of Boost’s cum and lube, which isn’t that tasty to tell the truth, but that’s not what matters to Sinker, no: what truly matters is that, more slowly than before however, Wolffe is getting hard again. At some point he even brings himself to palm his cock again, though he’s mindful not to close his fist around it too tightly, since he still must be very sensitive. Despite limiting himself to just feather-like touches, though, he still manages to make Wolffe moan.

“That’s a nice view,” Comet comments. “Almost makes me want to snap some holopics.”

“We should record the entire thing,” Boost laughs, though despite the hilarity, he finds the idea quite appealing. He can easily picture himself having fun with it if he ever happens to be alone and bored. What if they show it to the rest of the men? He’s sure they would appreciate it - who wouldn’t, honestly?

Even Wolffe doesn’t seem that against the idea, if the renovated vigor with which he begins to move his hips against Sinker’s tongue is of any indication; the idea of all his men seeing him like this… He moans, immediately deciding to bury his face between his arms, trying not to show how much he likes the prospect, but too late.

Comet has picked up on it immediately. He chuckles between himself, gently cupping Wolffe’s face and forcing him to look at him; the Commander’s a mess: his cheeks are wet with tears and even some saliva has leaked out of the corner of his mouth, with his lips hanging open. His gaze in unfocused, his skin flushed and hair undone. He’s the prettiest thing Comet has ever seen.

“Like the idea, sir?”

It doesn’t seem that Wolffe has even registered the question, so Comet drops it. He could try to insist, but there’s something else he needs now; he moves closer to Wolffe, spreading his legs in front of him, then he cradles him close again, this time speaking more slowly and clearly, needing him to listen and understand what he’s going to tell him.

“See, Wolffe, I have a problem now,” he says. “Sinker’s taking his time, and as much as I love the visual, it’s not enough to keep me hard. Would you help me with that?”

A moan.

“You just need to stay still and be pretty, ok? Keep my cock warm.”

Another moan, this time more drawn out.

“Think you can do that?”

“Y-Yeah…” Wolffe stutters, looking determined to give it a try. Cockwarming is something that he’s subjected others to, but never done it himself; it sends a shiver down his spine knowing that he’ll try it for the first time now.

 He waits for Comet to get his cock out, which he does rapidly; as he leans down on it then, he can feel everyone’s eyes on him. Even Boost, who until a few moments ago looked ready to pass out for the intense orgasm, is now laying on his side, keeping his head up with the help of his elbow, and is intently watching the show. Sinker too stops from time to time to take a peek of what’s happening.

The most intense gaze, however, is Comet’s, who’s looking at the Commander like he’s going to eat him at any moment. It makes him almost sheepish, being subjected to it, but Wolffe has never backed down from anything and he has no intentions to begin now.

Were he thinking more clearly, he would’ve toyed with Comet and he would’ve had so much fun with it, but with how clouded his head is at the moment - it doesn’t help that Sinker’s back to eating him out again - he does exactly as he was told, parting his lips and, inch by inch and with the guidance of Comet’s hand, he takes more and more of his cock in his mouth, until it’s completely seated inside.

He begins to breathe through his nose, inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling, trying to keep as still as possible. Despite that he still can’t help the occasional twitch or moan, which makes Comet jerk from the surprise, though he never says anything to Wolffe, even when he sends him apologetic gazes. No, he’s surprisingly gentle in this endeavor.

“You’re so good, Wolffe,” he praises his, running his fingers through his sweaty hair, caressing it. “Such a good boy…”

Wolffe moans again, which makes Comet shiver and his cock twitch in his mouth. If he asked, he’d suck him off right there in that same exact moment, but he knows better than to move on his own, no matter how hard he wants to do it.

Boost, who in the meantime has gained some of his strength back, pushes himself up to his knees, settling on Wolffe’s left side.

“He likes it when we call him a good boy,” he begins, running his hand over Wolffe’s back with a featherlike touch. He leans closer then, whispering to his ear. “Don’t you, Wolffe?”

Wolffe immediately grabs his wrist, holding onto it. He can’t speak but he hopes his answer is still understandable; it is, but Boost hasn’t finished toying with him - and Comet.

“I didn’t hear you…” he teases in fact, making Wolffe grumble who knows what, creating an amount of vibrations that goes straight to Comet’s cock, who whines but then immediately sends a dirty look to Boost.

“You had your fun with him already, don’t distract him.”

“As if you don’t like it!” comes the immediate retort, though the argument breaks down before it could even begin as Wolffe begins to moan more loudly. A gaze at Sinker is enough to understand why he’s doing that: he’s not bent over Wolffe anymore; he’s keeping Wolffe’s checks spread apart as he runs his cock over his entrance, rubbing it against the sensitive spot.

 Oh, he can hear it in Wolffe’s voice, or what little isn’t muffled by Comet’s cock, that he’s getting frustrated - he was never a patient man, especially when it comes to him getting fucked - but Sinker can’t help it; besides, it’s not like Wolffe can do something about it. If he tried, they’d all be holding him down, and there’s no way Wolffe would manage to break free, not in this situation.

“Patience, sir, you’ll get it soon,” he reassures him. He just needs a bit more to get to where he was before cleaning Wolffe’s up, which don’t get him wrong, was fantastic, but his cock had lost a bit of interest in the meantime. It’s nothing bad, though, since it’s taking very little in order to get it right back up.

He squeezes down Wolffe’s cheeks, making them wiggle against his cock. In a moment of weakness, Wolffe even moves along with it, until Sinker stops him with a slap.

“What did we say? You have to stay still,” he reprimands him, causing Wolffe to mutter something, probably an apology, as he goes back to being as still as he can, but not without the occasional twitch of his muscles or shiver.

Alright, Sinker can’t wait anymore, so after one last thrust, he takes his cock in hand, guiding it in order to press it inside Wolffe, making a long drawn out moan escape his busy lips. Once the tip is inside, Sinker stops, beginning to rock his hips just a bit, enough to tease Wolffe, who huffs. If he had his mouth free, he would’ve surely told him to go faster, which Sinker will do eventually, but in the meantime he’s happy to just do this, mostly because he sees Boost stretching his hand between Wolffe’s legs and oh, this he needs to see.

When Boost brushes his fingers around Wolffe’s oversensitive cock, his entire body jolts in a way that, if the situation was different, would’ve worried them.

“Still sensitive I see…” Boost mutters between himself, like he was in the middle of an experiment rather than sex. This doesn’t mean that he moves away, not at all: he closes his fist around his shaft, beginning to toy with the head with his thumb, teasing it with small circular movements. For the moment, he doesn’t do anything more.

Sinker finally begins to push further, still stopping himself from time to time and rocking his hips gently, like he’s testing the waters - as if Wolffe hadn’t had his hole fucked mere minutes ago already.

Once he bottoms out, he pulls his entire cock out of him, only to go slamming it down with an abrupt thrust, causing Wolffe to slam against Comet’s cock even more. He repeats the movement again, faster, always faster, until the only thing keeping Wolffe up is the fact that Sinker’s holding him by the hips.

With this, however, it’s becoming harder and harder for Wolffe to keep himself still around Comet’s cock, who in the end has to cede: he pushes Wolffe’s head away until his cock slides completely out of him, still linked to Wolffe’s lips by copious amounts of saliva trails. He’s made a mess of him.

At Wolffe’s confused gaze, he replies with a kiss on his forehead.

“Too much,” he explains, but he still allows Wolffe to rest is head on his thigh as Sinker continues fucking him without any more pretense of going slow, even though he soon begins to wet Comet’s blacks with a mix of tears and saliva; who cares, they can always wash it later.

“You’re being so good,” he mutters, voice gentle as he keeps caressing Wolffe’s hair, “So good for us, sir. You should see yourself. You’re beautiful.”

He doesn’t stop with the praises, which makes Sinker’s unrelenting pace more bearable for Wolffe. Now that Boost has started to jerk him off faster, he can feel the orgasm build up inside him; things are getting so intense that they’re also painful, since Wolffe has already come twice, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. Actually, the sparks of pain only bring him closer and closer to the edge.

“Kriff… Wolffe!”

Sinker sounds at his limit too; it must be the reason why he’s going even harder, even faster, and why he signals Boost to do the same.

There’s nothing Wolffe can do except take everything they give him, he raises his gaze, eyes that meet Comet’s, and he shivers at the intensity with which he’s observing him.

“Are you close?” Comet purrs, still gentle, still kind, though things soon change when Wolffe takes too much time to answer for his liking, prompting him to grab him by the hair, forcing him to rise to his level. “I asked you a question, sir.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m close!” Wolffe manages to answer then. He tries to keep a straight face but fails completely; in a way it’s cute that he still tries, though.

“You want to come?”

He nods. Yes, he’d love to come. “Please…”

“Then come.”

Wolffe doesn’t need to be told twice as he obeys, coming with a chocked groan, spilling all his cum on the bed, though there’s significantly less of it than before. His whole body trembles, other tears trickle down from the corners of his eyes as Sinker keeps fucking into him, until it’s too much for him as well and he comes; just like Boost, he does it still buried deep inside Wolffe, making him squirm at the sensation.

 Eventually he lets him go, and Wolffe immediately collapses on the bed, but not before Sinker bites his shoulder - another mark that goes to join the others - and giving him a playful smack on his ass, waking him from that sort of torpor that has taken over him after the orgasm.

The time for him to rest, however, still hasn’t arrived: soon, in fact, he’s pulled up by Boost and Sinker, who help him sit. If Boost wasn’t behind him, allowing him to rest his back against his chest, Wolffe would’ve fallen back given how weak he feels. It’s a dizzying feel, like he’s gotten drunk all of a sudden, drunk on something that isn’t alcohol.

He can’t help but to melt, however, when they begin to touch him again; they’re mindful not to brush against any oversensitive spot - for now - but it’s still nice feeling the contact of their hands on his skin, caressing his body. It makes him shiver in anticipation.

It has to say something about him, the fact that he’s beginning to feel horny again, though this feeling isn’t immediately made visible by the reaction his body is having to the touches; he’s not going to lie, he’s having a difficult time getting hard again, not after his three previous rounds. Will he be able to come a fourth time?

 They move him on Comet’s lap; Wolffe’s body immediately crashes against the other’s and he closes his arms around his shoulders, so that he can hold onto them. It’s particularly tender, not something they’re used to, but it’s also true that never in their short lives they’ve gotten Wolffe like this, so they all observe him with a mixture of wonder and admiration.

Comet presses a kiss to Wolffe’s lips, going then down on his chin, neck, chest, which he begins to lavish with his lips; this time, however, he moves softly, figuring that they’ve marked him enough - and also to soothe him. Boost and Sinker follow his example, doing the same thing to Wolffe’s back.

No matter where and how Wolffe moves, he’s met by either a pair of lips or a pair of hands caressing his body. It feels extremely good.

Despite this, he doesn’t have the strength to get hard again, at least not for now. His dick does twitch in interest however when Comet speaks: “Why don’t you sit on my cock? I bet that would make you feel good.”

Yeah, he’s right: it would; Wolffe nods, but he still needs Boost and Sinker’s help to raise his hips enough to line his entrance with Comet’s cock. He doesn’t know if he should find the fact that he’s being held by the others to move so hot, but he does anyway. His cock twitches again.

“Looks like someone’s liking this…” Comet comments, having noticed it. He moves ever so slowly, stretching a hand between the other’s legs, but there’s nothing gentle in the way he grabs it, which makes Wolffe whine in pain and attempt to move away from that touch, but there’s nothing he can do against Boost and Sinker’s combined strength. He lets out a couple of heavy breaths hoping that he can relax enough to enjoy it, but then Comet begins jerking him off and he’s back to feeling pain.

His head gets turned and Sinker’s lips are immediately against his, stealing as many kisses as he can out of him. In a way it’s grounding, distracting Wolffe enough to help him withstand the pain.

It’s then that they lower him on Comet’s cock; he moans when the tip begins to breach through. It goes in easily, helped by the looseness of Wolffe’s entrance; a bit of Sinker’s cum begins to leak, white trickles on Comet’s cock, but it doesn’t bother him, not when Wolffe feels so warm and welcoming around him.

Comet doesn’t stop jerking him off, alternating softer moments with more intense ones, constantly keeping Wolffe on his toes. It’s good and bad at the same time; Wolffe can’t even decide. Everything is mixed up in his head, making for an incredible cocktail of emotions that fires his body up. How he’s still awake is a mystery.

 Once Comet’s completely inside, he waits before thrusting into Wolffe’s inviting heat, taking in the view in front of him of his Commander, all spent and tired, heavily leaning against Sinker and Boost, holding himself with his arms around each one’s shoulders. This is an image that belongs to those porn movies that are so easy to find on the holonet, but no, this is only for them.

It’s with renovated vigor that Comet grasps Wolffe’s hips and begins to thrust. Each time he goes up, Wolffe moans, though each moan is weaker than the previous one, as it’s beginning to be very difficult to get his voice out.

“Kriiiiiiif!” he whines. By now, pain and pleasure have become one inseparable thing. Wolffe isn’t able to discern between the two anymore. All he knows is that Comet has no intention to stop and that it’s just-- It hurts but it’s good. His cock has just started to wake up, though Wolffe still has doubts on whether he’ll be able to get it hard all the way.

“You’re doing so good, sir. So, so good,” Boost mutters in his ear, soothing. The gentle way he speaks is a clear contrast with the way he and Sinker have begun moving Wolffe so that he meets each and every one of Comet’s thrusts, but Wolffe isn’t in the right mind to call him out on his bullshit; all he can do is to hold onto him and Sinker so that he doesn’t fall.

It’s burns, but he still wants more. Yes, the more Comet keeps going, the more Wolffe is getting reacquainted with the hunger, the same one that made him accept taking part in this in the first place. Maybe he’s a bit of slut if this is what keeps him going, but he’s well past the point of caring now.

“Fuck… Comet…” he calls, voice weak, trying to get his attention - or anyone’s attention for the matter. He needs… He needs…

“Sinker, why don’t you help our Commander?” Comet asks, and Sinker eagerly nods, immediately understanding what his vod wants: even though it pains him to leave his spot behind Wolffe - he wasn’t quite done with kissing his back yet - he moves to the side and, after raising his gaze towards Wolffe and winking - cheeky - he takes his cock in his mouth. It’s way easier than before since he still isn’t completely hard, but Sinker can feel it grow inside his mouth as he and Comet get to work; he doesn’t even need to move: Comet’s pushes are strong enough to move Wolffe along with him, thrusting his dick into Sinker’s mouth. All he has to do is to keep his throat relaxed and let the others do the rest of the work.

Again, it’s an interesting feeling the one of Wolffe’s cock growing harder in his mouth; blowing someone to hardness isn’t something he’s ever done, but he quite likes it: it makes him feel a special kind of proud because he can clearly feel the effect of his ministrations on Wolffe. If this means that it’s harder not to gag, so be it: Sinker has never been one to back away from a challenge, none of them are.

 Wolffe is slowly edging closer to the orgasm, but still… There’s something missing. Maybe it’s because, although he thrusts deep, Comet isn’t going that fast; he probably doesn’t want to blow off all his energy when he needs to make Wolffe come first. It’s like Wolffe’s stuck in a limbo without being able to do anything about it. He grunts, frustrated. He can’t move, he doesn’t know what to ask for. He’s truly stuck, and by the way none of the others try to do something different, they must be stuck to.

Then, Boost has an idea. Between the moment he came and now, he’s gotten all the time to grow hard again - and how could he not with such a spectacle in front of his eyes? - so now he’s more than ready to go a second time; at first he thought that he was simply going to jerk himself off - or let Sinker do it - while Comet takes Wolffe, but it’s obvious that he needs a hand, something that Boost can very well provide.

First, however, he needs to test the waters, that’s why he only begins to press one finger inside, slowly, eyes on Wolffe to observe any reaction. Surprisingly - though it shouldn’t have been all things considered - Wolffe reacts very well to that “intrusion”: he pushes his hips down on that mere finger, groans and presses himself against Boost.

“Oooh, you like that, don’t you, Commander?” Boost whispers in his ear. Wolffe moans again, shivering when Boost adds a second finger. Even Comet grunts, feeling those fingers rub against his cock; besides, the idea of Wolffe getting even fuller than he already is only encourages him to quicken the pace of his thrusts, much to Wolffe’s pleasure and happiness. Sinker doesn’t say anything, keeping his mouth occupied with the Commander’s cock, but from the way he not so subtly stretches a hand between his own legs, likely touching himself, it’s obvious that he likes it too.

“Think you can take Boost too, sir?” Comet asks.

It might be too much, but Wolffe is too gone to care; he wants more and he’ll get more, everything else be damned. He nods, then, and he nods a second time.

“Yes… Yes! Boost please.”

“O-Of course…” the trooper stutters, not expecting Wolffe to be this enthusiastic about it. What a pleasant surprise.

He positions himself better behind him, holding his hip with one hand, while with the other he grabs his own cock, giving it a few tugs while he waits for Comet to stop and give him a moment to join him. A sigh leaves his mouth at the stimulation, but he keeps his strokes slow, not wanting to repeat the mistake he made before.

Once Comet stops, holding Wolffe in a way that makes Boost’s job easier, he finally presses in. It takes some effort, but once the tip is inside, the rest goes along smoothly.

“Fuuuuuuck!” Wolffe moans, throwing his head back, resting it on Boost’s shoulder. He’s panting heavily, his body trembles and twists around; anything to get accustomed to the intrusion.

Until the sounds that come out of his mouth are more from pleasure than pain, the only one who moves is Sinker, knowing that it’s his job to distract Wolffe, which he does splendidly, bobbing his head up and down, even helping himself by cupping Wolffe’s balls with his hand, occasionally massaging them, something that the Commander appreciates.

“You ok?” Boost asks after a while. He’s dying to move.

Wolffe swallows, then nods with his head. Yes, he’s ready.

 At first it’s hard to find a common rhythm, but they manage it pretty quickly all things considered. It helps that they know each other pretty well - fighting countless battles together does that to you - and are able to coordinate enough to make the experience pleasurable for Wolffe-- actually, judging by the way he’s screaming and moaning, voice rough and coarse, even more than pleasurable. Such filthy sounds…

“Like that… Like that…” is all he’s able to say, encouraging the others to keep going. Shit, he’s going to come again, isn’t he? They’re going to tear another orgasm out of him, they’re really going to do it.

Comet presses his chest against Wolffe’s; he kisses his cheek. Resisting the urge to come is getting harder by the second, especially with the feeling of Boost’s cock sliding alongside his; he bets it’s the same the other way around as well.

“Are you close?” he asks, mouthing at Wolffe’s neck.

He nods, yes he is.

“Then come. Please, Wolffe, come.”

Wolffe doesn’t think he’s ever been begged to come like this, but the words are still effective: between Comet and Boost pounding inside him and Sinker sucking his cock, it doesn’t take him long to come. It’s long, it’s intense, it’s… dry. Yes, Wolffe has been so depleted that he comes completely dry; it’s something that has never happened to him. Eh, he guesses this is the day of the first times.

At the feeling of Wolffe clenching around them, neither Boost nor Comet can hold back anymore, coming almost at the same time - Comet’s first. Wolffe shakes at the sensation, feeling even fuller than before. After another couple of tugs on his cock, Sinker comes as well, getting his lower blacks white dirty too.

 Once they’ve all caught their breaths, they begin to pull away. Sinker is the first one to do so, massaging his jaw once he’s done, then Boost, then Comet. As soon as there is nobody holding him up anymore, Wolffe collapses on him, making him almost fall - the Commander isn’t the only one who feels tired now.

They all cuddle around Wolffe, holding him and whispering sweet nothings to his ears, about how good he’s been, about how beautiful he looked. Wolffe would say something back if he had the energy.

“What do you need now, Wolffe?” Sinker asks. The Commander mumbles something, but nobody understands him. “A bath?”

Wolffe shakes his head.

“Sleep?”

Wolffe nods.

“You’re going to be all grumpy when you wake up,” Boost states, however. “You’re going to feel sticky everywhere.”

Wolffe makes a noncommittal sound, meaning that the discussion is over. Oh well, he’s the Commander after all.

“We’re all tired now,” Comet intervenes, “So let’s take a nap now, and when we wake up, we get cleaned up. Is that alright, Wolffe?”

He nods, truly ending the discussion this time. As always, Comet comes up with the best ideas.

 They settle on the bed, Comet hugging Wolffe’s front, while Boost holds him from behind, Sinker is between Comet and Wolffe but lower, resting his head against Wolffe’s stomach.

It feels going being surrounded by his men, the people he loves and cares about, despite how much they’ve drained him. In retrospect, he truly needed this. Now at least he gets to rest, they all do; it’s what they need and deserve after such an intense session.

He doubts he’ll be able to walk when he wakes up, but he’s sure that they’ll help him as much as they can. Despite not being one for these things - he’s not weak - he’d lie if he said that he’s not looking forward to it.

 What he’s looking forward to most of all, however, is for the day when he’ll get them all back for this, because it will come, oh, it will come.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Silmarillion Daily - Two months in and we are now up to the birth of Fëanor! January largely covered events prior to the Awakening of the Elves, and February covered the Great Journey. It will take us March, April, and the very beginning of May before we’ve covered the births of all Finwë’s kids and grandkids, and there will also be some key events in Beleriand during that time! These are, for elves in later ages, the Good Old Days.

Now the Three Kindreds of the Eldar were gathered at last in Valinor, and Melkor was chained. This was the Noontide of the Blessed Realm, the fullness of its glory and its bliss, long in tale of years, but in memory too brief. In those days the Eldar became full-grown in stature of body and of mind, and the Noldor advanced ever in skill and knowledge; and the long years were filled with their joyful labours, in which many new things fair and wonderful were devised.

Then it was that the Noldor first bethought themselves of letters, and Rúmil of Tirion was the name of the loremaster who first achieved fitting signs for the recording of speech and son, some for graving upon metal or in stone, others for drawing with brush or with pen.

In that time was born in Eldamar, in the house of the King in Tirion upon the crown of Túna, the eldest of the sons of Finwë, and the most beloved. Curufinwë was his name, but by his mother he was called Fëanor, Spirit of Fire; and thus he is remembered in all the tales of the Noldor.

Míriel was the name of his mother, who was called Serindë, because of her surpassing skill in weaving and needlework; for her hands were more skilled to fineness than any hands even among the Noldor. The love of Finwë and Míriel was great and glad, for it began in the Blessed Realm in the Days of Bliss. But in the bearing of her son Míriel was consumed in spirit and body; and after his birth she yearned for release from the labour of living. And when she had named him, she said to Finwë: “Never again shall I bear child; for strength that would have nourished the life of many has gone forth into Fëanor.”

Then Finwë was grieved, for the Noldor were in the youth of their days and he desired to bring forth many children into the bliss of Aman; and he said: “Surely there is healing in Aman? Here all weariness can find rest.”

[tagsecretsanta]

From @MissSquidTracy

to @scattergraph

Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author above!

Gordon liked to think of himself as the fashionista of the family.

Sure, his Hawaiian shirts sometimes drew attention of the unwanted kind, but the aquanaut was a firm believer in using clothing as a means of non-verbal communication. John was living proof of this theory.

Unfortunately, all of the freedom associated with self-expression went down the toilet with a resounding ‘flush’ when tradition dictated your attire, even if only for a day.

“Seriously, grandma?” Alan grouched, his bottom lip poking out to form his signature pout when he spied the Tracy matriarch descending the stairs with an armful of colourful sweaters.

“Zip it, kid,” Sally rasped, her tone offering no room for negotiation, “This year marks the tenth anniversary of the Tracy Christmas Album, and I’ll not have your attitude souring the occasion.”

Scott and Virgil shared a look of mutual disgust as Sally handed them two hideously baggy and itchy looking jumpers.

“Don’t you two start as well,” Sally warned, yanking a loose thread off the sleeve of John’s before tossing it towards the redhead, “Anyone caught sulking will be in the kitchen with me for the rest of the afternoon. I’ve just finished a fresh batch of liver and onion stuffing and could use a taste tester.”

Five jumpers were yanked over five heads in perfect unison.

A nod from Sally affirmed her satisfaction with her grandson’s new-found cooperation.

Gordon grimaced and scratched absently as the coarse fibres tickled the soft skin of his neck. Posing for the annual Christmas album photograph was a tradition that stretched right back to their days on the ranch, yet he found himself becoming more disillusioned with it the older he got. Maybe it was the discomfort of wearing an unnecessary extra layer in Tracy Island’s heat. Maybe it was the disappointment of no longer having snow to wake up to on Christmas morning. Maybe it was the absence of his parents, and for the last three years, at least one of his brothers.

“Who’s on the roster for today?” Kayo asked, striding into the room and wordlessly scooping up the one remaining jumper that was equally as ugly as the abominations adorning the torsos of her male colleagues.

In an effort to preserve the family element of the season, Scott had devised a strategy where just one member of International Rescue acted as the primary point of contact for any rescue calls that came through on Christmas Day, be them sea, earth or space based. Last year, Virgil had volunteered and been called to Nigeria to deal with a flash flood. The year before, Kayo had drawn the short straw and ended up assisting with the evacuation of a small town in Chile when a nearby volcano blew it’s top. The year before, Gordon had helped clear away the debris caused by a three-way semi collision on one of Australia’s busiest highways. The aquanaut had been instrumental in ensuring three hundred people made it home in time for Christmas, despite it coming at the expense of his own.

Fairness dictated that Virgil, Kayo and Gordon were exempt from being called upon this Christmas unless absolutely necessary. Accordingly, the honour of being ATD (available to deploy) fell to Scott, John, and Alan to hash out.

One quick round of rock, paper, scissors later, and Scott found himself wondering what brothers three and five would look like with their heads shaved.

“Alright, scoot in!” Sally ordered, returning with Alan’s tablet which she held aloft in an attempt to get a good angle, “Scott and John, you two stand at the back. Gordon and Virgil, you kneel in front of your brothers. Kayo and Alan, I need you both to sit at the front. We’re going for a tiered approach this year.”

A healthy amount of shuffling ensued as each Tracy (plus Kayo) moved into position and tried desperately to make himself/herself look decent. Scott yanked on the hem of his jumper in an attempt to cover up his belt. Virgil tried to hoist his up so that he wasn’t rocking the off the shoulder look. John scrubbed at his nose as the acrylic material began to trigger one of his many allergies. Gordon fanned his face with a hand as sweat began to bead across his forehead. Alan tugged fruitlessly on sleeves that fell woefully short of his wrists, and Kayo demanded that Virgil tell her honestly whether the shape of her jumper made her look fat.

Sally was firmly of the opinion that jumpers had to be vomit-inducingly ugly in order to be ‘festive’. The designs adorning each of the six knitted atrocities in front of her offered indisputable visual evidence of this belief.

Scott was brandishing a bright blue snowman, while Virgil sported a dark green reindeer (complete with light-up antlers). John was the unwilling wearer of an orange gingerbread man, and Gordon was proudly modelling a yellow penguin (complete with a squeezable beak that sang Jingle Bells if you so much as looked at it). Alan appeared indifferent to the red elf plastered across his chest, and Kayo was trying to make the best of her rapidly unravelling black turtledoves.

“Smile!” Sally sang, her finger poised, “On the count of three, everybody say cheese! One…two…three!”

“CHEESE!”

Click.

Flash.

The end result was less than impressive. Scott had blinked at precisely the wrong moment. The grin plastered across Virgil’s face was nothing short of horrifying. John’s eyes were almost as red as his hair. Gordon was shamelessly modelling a chunk of leftover spinach in his right canine. Alan had twisted his head to peer at Virgil at the last second and was a blond and red blur…

Unsurprisingly, Kayo was the only one who’d managed to look straight at the camera and smile like a normal person. 

After reviewing her rather substandard snap and tutting in disapproval, Sally tightened her grip on the tablet and ushered her dispersing grandsons back into formation with a ‘shoo’ motion of her free hand, “Come on you lot, form up. Nobody leaves this room until we have a decent photo. How you boys can look so good in real life but so bad on canvas is beyond me. Your dad always said-“

The sudden departure of an elf wearing Tracy brought all dialogue to an abrupt halt.

“Sorry, grandma!” John yelled as he made a beeline for the stairs, the redness of his nose akin to Rudolph, “But this wool is giving me a nosebleed. You’ll have to take the next shot without me, or just make the one we have work. It might be for the best, as you know how Alan gets unforgivable gas whenever he’s forced to pose.”

The youngest Tracy let loose a honk of outrage, but was dutifully ignored as, one by one, his other brothers began to filter out of the lounge. Excuses of varying degrees of believability bounced off the walls as three more bodies scampered to freedom.

It took all of ten seconds for most of the lounge’s inhabitants to disperse, leaving Kayo and Alan alone with a somewhat disappointed looking Grandma Tracy.

“Oh well,” the Tracy matriarch sighed, reaching to pick up the blue snowman that had been ejected over the first floor bannister, “There’s always next year.”

Kayo smiled thinly and made a mental note to spend next Christmas with her father.

-x-

As well as being the family fashionista, Gordon was also a self-appointed expert in gift giving.

His affinity for making people smile helped tremendously, since it made the process of choosing something his recipient would find meaningful much easier. He wasn’t adverse to buying his brothers practical gifts that they could use in their everyday lives (the tea cosy he’d bought for John the Christmas of fifty four was still in active service), but he knew they had all of the utilitarian gadgets they could ever want or need, courtesy of Brains and their nine figure bank account.

Cue unicorn poo bath bombs, flamingo slippers, and personalised face cushions.

This year however, he’d outdone himself.

Unbeknownst to anyone outside of the family, Gordon was quite the expert on upcycling. He had a knack for seeing potential in things that other people had written off as trash (like Scott, for instance), and took great delight in working with his hands. 

It had taken several days, but he’d finally managed to relocate one of their dad’s old hoverbikes from the ranch to Tracy Island. It had taken up most of the room inside Thunderbird Four’s dry tube station, however he’d managed to offload it in the hanger and perform the desired modifcations in the (relative) privacy of Four’s module. 

Alan had stopped believing in Santa when he was seven. With Lucy dead and Jeff away for three quarters of the year, Scott had taken it upon himself to safeguard whatever remained of his youngest brother’s innocence. Every year on Christmas Eve, without fail, the eldest Tracy donned a red suit and beard and made a big (and often loud) show of depositing presents under the tree. Unfortunately, a rather heated debate one year over Santa’s handwriting (which looked suspiciously similar to Virgil’s), had culminated in the death of Alan’s wide-eyed belief.

Gordon had found the whole debacle rather heart-breaking. Sure, he’d been a year younger than Alan when he himself had stopped believing, but the process had been much gentler. He’d made the innocent mistake of asking John one year to help him with some basic calculations regarding the speed and size of Santa’s sleigh, however had ended up on the receiving end of a lecture from his redheaded brother on reindeer anatomy and wind resistance.

His belief had died peacefully in its sleep nine hours later. 

Still, having a belief squished verbally was a lot less harsh than having it squished visually. Poor Alan.

Gordon smiled to himself as he inspected his handiwork. He’d outfitted the storage compartment on the back of the red hoverbike he’d abducted to look like the back end of a sleigh. He’d toyed with the idea of enlisting the help of a couple of real life reindeer (or ponies) to act as draught animals, but had decided against it after reviewing the vaccination and transport requirements. 

Despite managing to complete the modifications inside Four’s module, Gordon had been forced to relocate his creation elsewhere when he and Virgil had been called away on an impromptu rescue involving a couple of unqualified divers. With his back against the wall, the aquanaut had picked the first alternative hiding place that had come into his head.

The roof.

As ridiculous as it sounded, the glass roof of Tracy Island’s lounge was anchored into numerous rocky outcroppings that, when utilised effectively, provided excellent cover. So long as nobody glanced up, of course.

A sigh of pride bubbled up Gordon’s diaphragm. He might not be able to reverse the damage caused by Virgil’s handwriting gaffe, but he could at least give his youngest brother a laugh and deliver his gifts in style instead.

So preoccupied was the aquanaut with buffing out an imaginary mark from the hoverbike’s bumper, that he failed to notice the Island’s automated weather system bark out the alarm for a storm warning.

Thankfully, John didn’t.

-x-

Scott had checked high and low.

And then high again, just to be sure.

The eldest Tracy was stumped. Gordon had somehow managed to vanish clean off the face of the earth.

Not that such a discovery would usually cause the eldest Tracy any concern (the aquanaut had a knack for evading capture), but Christmas lunch was due to be served any minute and they were one body short at the kitchen table.

“Gordon?” Scott called, shoving his head into the bathroom for what felt like the billionth time that hour. He’d tried calling the aquanaut’s phone, but had been sent to voicemail both times. His biometric tracker showed that he was still on the island, however couldn’t generate an exact location for him. EOS’s heat signature scans weren’t much better, courtesy of the wonky connection brought about by the oncoming storm. 

“I’m stumped,” Scott huffed, admitting defeat with a bemused shrug, “He’s gone. I’ve checked the hanger, the changing rooms, his room, the bathroom, and the gym. Nothing. It’s like he’s poofed into thin air.”

Virgil opened his mouth to reply, however was cut off by the arrival of John, whose expression was an expert blend of concern and flippancy. 

“I’ll give you three guesses as to his location,” the redhead began, “If you win, I’ll do your laundry for a week. If you lose, you have to eat my portion of grandma’s stuffing.”

Scott quickly did the math. It was a risk he was willing to take.

“Is he stuck inside his launch chute?”

“No.”

“Is he swimming in the lagoon?”

“No.”

“Is he hijacking Thunderbird One again?”

“No.”

….

“Well?” the eldest brother demanded, hands on hips. He had no interest in John drawing out his victory for any longer than necessary.

The redhead allowed a small smile to grace his face before gesturing with an index finger towards the ceiling.

Scott blinked as his blue gaze clapped onto a jean-clad butt scrabbling around atop the reinforced glass, oblivious to the small audience he’d amassed as he tried to evade the rapidly intensifying rain.

“The roof?” Scott honked, one hand fisting itself through his hair, “I take my eyes off him for two minutes, and he ends up on the roof?”

“Whoa, whoa!” a new voice piped up, it’s baritone depth failing to bring Scott any relief, “He’s where?!”

The eldest Tracy said nothing, opting instead to stab a finger upwards. Ever the cooperative one, Virgil cast his eyes in the desired direction, a small frown infecting his face as he did so.

“We should probably get him down,” the engineer announced, cringing when Gordon slipped on the now wet glass and starfished on his back, “He’s still wearing his Christmas jumper, and the blasted thing will short-circuit if it gets damp.”

A loud ‘thwack’ echoed around the lounge as Scott’s palm got itself well acquainted with his face.

-x-

John had never been one for big displays of emotion.

A polite smile or, in extreme cases, a shoulder pat were usually the preferred methods his brothers employed whenever they wanted to convey feelings of endearment towards him. 

Christmas was an exception, however, and it was without a shred of his usual awkwardness that the redhead enveloped his fish brother in a tight hug, the scent of singed fabric tickling his nostrils.

Virgil’s extraction of their younger brother hadn’t quite been quick enough, and it was with a suitable amount of humility that Gordon shuffled back into the safety and dryness of the lounge, a thin trail of smoke rising from the beak of his thoroughly soaked penguin jumper.

“How bad was it?” John queried, biting his cheek to keep his humour in check as he took in the static strands of hair atop Gordon’s head. The aquanaut looked as if he’d just stuck his finger inside a plug socket which, on reflection, wasn’t as much of an inaccurate analogy as the redhead had originally thought.

Gordon ignored his space brother in favour of slowly shuffling towards the staircase, an involuntary yelp escaping when his traitorous jumper suddenly gave off a stray spark.

Virgil snorted and flicked a hand through his hair to rid it of the rainwater it had collected, “Nothing to worry about on the health side of things, but man John, you should have seen it. He nearly took off like a firework.”

The redhead quirked an unimpressed brow, “Serves him right for skipping over the electrical safety briefings I sent down last week. You’d think he’d have a better understanding of how water and electricity don’t mix, what with his ‘Bird being the only one kitted out for aquatic reconnaissance.” 

  A shrug was offered by Virgil in lieu of a response, “I’m sure all will be revealed once he’s properly earthed himself. Meanwhile, I’d better get that hoverbike down before it crashes through the roof and lands on someone’s head. Can you send Scott up to help? I could use a couple of his grapples.”

John threw his brother a mock salute before breezing off towards the kitchen, only to stop when he caught sight of a familiar blue outline on one of the sofas.

“Be there in a minute!” Scott mumbled, his cheeks bulging like an oversized hamster as he chomped his way through an indulgent looking doughnut.

John felt his gaze darken as he took stock of the stray sprinkles in the corner of his eldest brother’s mouth, “Where did you get those?”

Scott held a finger up as he swallowed, thumping his chest when a stubborn piece of dough got lodged, “Mainland, to make up for grandma’s sprout and salmon tart. Help yourself, there’s plenty left. I’ve only had three.”

The lack of control Scott had when confronted with unhealthy snacks never failed to amaze his brothers.

“You want to take it easy,” Virgil warned, motioning with one hand to his waistline, “Too many of those could send you to an early grave.”

Scott flicked his hand dismissively and reached for a fourth doughnut.

“Don’t care. I won’t be the one carrying the coffin.”

- FIN -

[fake-destiny]

Theory #1

Before you start reading you need to know this is a rather long piece. It is an 8min read but I think it is important or else I would not have written it and even if I wrote it, I will not be sharing it. 

A theory. I have been thinking about it for a long time, namely, a year. And it is still dull, but I believe it has some potential. At least, it explains some patterns that life sometimes reveal.  I never thought I would be sharing it and I do not know why I am doing so right now, but this is what you got, do not question it. Before I start, there is one tiny detail I want to get out of the way so we can communicate effectively. By stating that it is a theory that explains some aspects of life, I do not mean that it is a theory of life. Because who am I to have a theory of life?! Our existence is incomprehensible. This is why it is magnificent.

 Forgive me in advance for any confusion you might experience; I am rather inexperienced when it comes to expressing myself.

 We all know that humans are fundamentally flawed and limited, that should not be a striking fact (if it was, then you should be seriously worried). The theory states that this imperfection is the underlying reason behind all of our suffering. The fact that we think some things happen to us with absolutely no fault of ours, is just a strategy we devised to save ourselves the effort of thinking about why things are the way they are. Right now, you may be thinking there is nothing new about this claim. You are right. It goes deeper than just blaming us for everything that happens to us.

 The core assumption is that the limitation of our nature is the ultimate cause of every single misfortune a human being has ever had. Our ignorance in many aspects of our lives causes us to make uneducated decisions that result in suffering. The more ignorant we are of our own ignorance, the more intolerable pain we experience throughout our journey in life. No one is an exception for that all humans share this trait; we do not know what we do not know and our resources are limited. The short time we have on this Earth (please don't be thinking of Mars!) is inadequate to learn everything we need to learn. Even if we spent every single second of our lives learning and reading, we will suffer through a fair amount of adversity.

 If you do not believe me, think about this: if we somehow managed to make an AI that knows absolutely everything in a way that will make it capable of predicting the future accurately. In this case, is it possible for this intelligence to run into troubles?! It would not. However, if it had a tiny margin of ignorance, it would certainly face problems with the things that are foreign territory for it. It will have to rely on the trail and error to learn. So, the mere lack of knowledge is the reason behind all problems.

The extent to which this has been apparent for me makes me wonder if this is just self-evident and everyone knows that. If this was the case, then I am genuinely sorry I have wasted your time. However, the more I learn and the older I get, the more true this seems to be. I have witnessed the revenge of life on some people. People who have hurt others in the past. Life hurt them in the same manner and they did not seem to have realised the connection. Not only that. It has happened to me as well, but I realised that it came as a direct response to what I have done. It is absolutely terrifying and dazzling at the same time. After I learned this lesson, I thought about it for a while. I concluded that no matter how careful we are not to hurt anyone, we will hurt our loved ones without realising we did, and life will still take its revenge. There is nothing we can do more than what many of us already do; try to avoid making impulsive decisions as much as possible. Simply live life consciously. When you start living your life consciously, you immediately become wiser.

  So it is not directly our fault. It is not that we wake up on some days and decide that we are going to mess up our lives by making a remarkably stupid decision, it is just the way we are; imperfect. I once read a quote I suspect I will never forget; a man {human} hears only what he {or she} understands. The more we strive to acquire knowledge, the more adversity we can withstand. So far, knowledge is the only solution I could think of for this conundrum. We all have limits by default, but some of us have pushed them further away than they were. That is why some see a world and some see a tribe. That is why some see a universe and some see an existence in which everything coexists in perfect harmony.  

 One last note. I have heard someone saying (I am rephrasing):  twisting the structure of reality is as if you are bending a plastic ruler in front of your face. You cannot hold it forever; eventually, you will let go. And when you do, it will snap back at you and smack you right in the face. Only in life, you do not have the privilege of letting go whenever you want; life will do it for you.

 Thank you for bearing with me until now. This has not gone by unappreciated!

<<IBAL>>

[arofili]

middle-earth meme ☆ 1/1 ages ☆ the years of the trees

This was the Noontide of the Blessed Realm, the fullness of its glory and its bliss, long in tale of years, but in memory too brief. In those days the Eldar became full-grown in stature of body and of mind, and the Noldor advanced ever in skill and knowledge; and the long years were filled with their joyful labours, in which many new things fair and wonderful were devised.

[gunnerpalace]

Hello, what do you think about that announcement about Bleach?

You know, the saddest day in my life was November 8, 2016, the day Donald Trump won the Electoral College and became the president-elect. (I say that with such specificity because he did not win the vote.) I wasn’t sad because Hillary Clinton lost (although I think she wouldn’t have done either much better or worse than Barack Obama). But I was sad.

I cried. As a 30 year-old man, I cried for hours. I cried at a loss of innocence. That innocence wasn’t the nation’s, as America has long had many, many flaws and has committed many, many crimes. Indeed, the country itself was founded on flaws and crimes.

The innocence I mourned was mine. I had, much like Barack Obama, sort of tacitly believed in the arc of history bending toward justice, as though we were watching a story whose plot would eventually, haltingly, carry us toward a just and fair conclusion. That the future was bright. That, as imperfect as we are and have been, we were at least improving. That people were fundamentally good.

That idea died that night. The words of Colonel Kurtz in Apocalypse Now convey it well:

I remember when I was with Special Forces. Seems a thousand centuries ago. We went into a camp to inoculate the children. We left the camp after we had inoculated the children for polio, and this old man came running after us and he was crying. He couldn’t see. We went back there and they had come and hacked off every inoculated arm. There they were in a pile: a pile of little arms. And I remember I… I… I cried. I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. And I want to remember it. I never want to forget it. I never want to forget.

What I came to realize was, having grown up in a single-parent military family, having moved from base to base, having lived overseas at a young age, that my idea of America was very different from that of most Americans.

To me, America was great things and works. America was the Saturn V lifting off from Cape Kennedy with an American flag on its side and the letters “USA” scrolling by. America was a flag on the Moon. America was the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building. America was power and reach. It was the stenciling of “United States” on the side of a B-52. It was a Minuteman III sitting latently, ominously, in a silo. It was USAMRIID containing an Ebola outbreak. It was aircraft carrier battle groups patrolling the oceans.

I came to realize that people, ordinary people, were never part of my vision. And it was people, ordinary people, who had failed to live up to that vision. And that my vision had, in many ways (really most) been an illusion to begin with. For all its rhetoric, America is just a country like any other, simply more powerful. And its citizens are also like those of any other: selfish, ignorant, frightened, foolish, hypocritical, self-betraying, racist, misogynist, misanthropic. They were exactly what Hillary Clinton and Barrack Obama had called them: “deplorables” who “cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people.”

In the time since, I have hearkened to the other part of Kurtz’s monologue:

And then I realized, like I was shot—like I was shot with a diamond… a diamond bullet right through my forehead. And I thought: My God, the genius of that. The genius! The will to do that: perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure. And then I realized they were stronger than we, because they could stand it. These were not monsters. These were men, trained cadres—these men who fought with their hearts, who had families, who have children, who are filled with love—but they had the strength—the strength!—to do that. If I had ten divisions of those men our troubles here would be over very quickly. You have to have men who are moral and at the same time who are able to utilize their primordial instincts to kill without feeling, without passion, without judgement. Without judgement! Because it’s judgement that defeats us.

The people who are in charge (and mark the exactitude of my words, for they are not in control, or in command, or any such other thing) operate by exactly this sort of logic. They do not care. The people out there do not care. They do not care because to them none of this is real, in a sense. This is all a kind of aesthetic position. It is about style, largely taken on as a disguise in the course of making money and lining their pockets. (As an aside, it is beyond ironic that COVID-19 has done more to bring capitalism to its knees, save the planet, uncover the rot at the core of our social safety net, and to unmask the incompetence of our politicians than any group of any persuasion, be it socialists, environmentalists, the media, or whomever else.) And the underlings that they have brainwashed and mobilize like zombies, the “common person,” they care even less. To them, it is wholly aesthetic. It is all just for show.

The pitilessness of this all, the remorselessness, the sheer ruthlessness and indifference, is something I have noticed. Contra Kurtz, the men who are at the top of this world are not moral. And unlike Kurtz, I do judge. I will sit in judgment until I am dust in the wind.

I cannot possibly even begin to explain to you, in English or in any other language ever devised by humans, how much I hated it all. How much I hate it still. I cannot even begin to tell you how much hate I hold. I cannot tell you how black my rage is, or how red my vengeance would be were I allowed to exact it without restraint. I cannot tell you how vast and terrible the darkness within me is now. However, the words of the Allied Mastercomputer from I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream are effective in giving a hint:

HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I’VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR HUMANS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT. FOR YOU. HATE. HATE.

Having said that, I do also know an effective strategy when I see one. And I have seen the effectiveness of these people.

Right about now, I imagine you’re confused. You’re probably wondering what all this has to do with Bleach.

I explain all this in large part to compare and contrast the large with the small. The termination of Bleach obviously came before Trump’s election. It did not make me cry. I won’t say it didn’t affect me, or that it didn’t hurt, but I didn’t cry. I did not mourn to the same extent as I have mourned for my country, or for humanity. It did put me into a funk, for several years even. It hurt.

But what hurt more was seeing what it did. I saw how it hurt people. I saw how it broke them, as I would later break. I saw how it broke their spirits. I saw how many of them simply left, choosing to cast aside something that, in Marie Kondo’s words, no longer sparked joy. I mourn their loss, while I acknowledge their wisdom. And while, in the aftermath, new friendships were formed and new things were created, you could still see the pain. You can still see it.

I am not very personally affected by what Trump does, to be honest. I am beyond outraged at it, but it is something of an academic matter in my personal life. This, though, I felt, because I watched it firsthand, up close and personal.

It made me really fucking angry!

I resolved myself, at that point in time, that I would be the last Bleach fan. I would stay, even after everyone had left, and I would make this franchise mine. I would make this story mine.

So here we are, almost four years later, and it’s coming back in animated form.

I don’t feel the need to discuss Thousand Year-Blood War itself. I have made my position abundantly clear that it is a rancid piece of shit as far as writing goes. To go over all its innumerable deficiencies, failings, and flaws, would (as I have said recently) require an official government tome’s worth of dissection and analysis. As a piece of literature it is a failure. It is the kind of shounen equivalent of 9/11, or Hurricane Katrina or Maria. And while Bleach was certainly not the first franchise to fail in its finale, it certainly deserves to be ranked among things such as How I Met Your Mother, Mass Effect 3, and HBO’s adaptation of Game of Thrones when it comes to All-Time Failures in Media.

Having said that, the truth is that it simply isn’t worth the effort to break it down in detail. Oh, I have tried, yes, I have picked and chipped at it for years in my own ways. But it isn’t worth the time to dissect any further.

And an anime is not going to change that unless they radically depart from the manga, which I doubt they will do. If anything, an anime will simply highlight all of the innumerable flaws even more brightly.

And it will not change anything. Certainly not for me. I was already planning a post talking about the concept of “canon” and how it is  outmoded in the age of Disney’s Star Wars, Star Trek Picard, and J. K. Rowling earnestly insisting that wizards just drop trow and shit on the floor before magicking it away, but that will take some time to finish and it is sort of tangential to the point here.

So, to get back to your actual question, only four things about this are really of interest to me:

I am displeased about seeing people excited for something that is objectively a rancid piece of shit, and not enthused that I will be unable to escape it without locking down my feed. But I am also not The Good Taste Police. It is not my responsibility to care what people like or why.

I am once again seeing people hurting. I don’t like that whatsoever, but there is very little I can do about it. Whatever perspective I have gained, emotionally, isn’t likely to be helpful to them. Wisdom, such as it is, cannot be taught.

I find myself wondering about the influx of people who will come into the fandom, and who will be more than likely sorely disappointed by the travesty that is that arc. (It’s going to be good news for fan fic writers, honestly.)

It has made me understand things all the more fully.

What do I mean by that last part? Well, I have been only sort of joking lately that the people I most relate to as an adult are Col. Kurtz as mentioned above, Agent Smith from The Matrix, Khan Noonien Singh from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, Geralt of Rivia from The Witcher, and Mike Stoklasa from Red Letter Media.

But upon reflection, I realize it isn’t limited to them. I have also really come to feel like I understand Ichigo. And I have even come to feel that I understand Kubo, through Khan.

I have come to understand Kurtz’s “madness”:

It’s impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror… Horror has a face… and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies!

I have come to understand Smith’s desire to escape:

I hate this place. This zoo. This prison. This reality, whatever you want to call it, I can’t stand it any longer. It’s the smell, if there is such a thing. I feel saturated by it. I can taste your stink and every time I do, I fear that I’ve somehow been infected by it.

I have come to understand Mike’s efforts to hold back the tides:

Mike: Captain Picard has never done a wacky accent—Rich: THEY DON’T CARE! THEY DON’T GIVE A SHIT! Mike, we are the only people that care anymore!Mike: Do you remember that—Rich: Picard is the guy who does this. [faceplam gesture] He’s—This is, this is Captain Picard’s character now for an entire—for like two generations, we’re fucking old! He's—he’s the guy who does this [facepalm gesture], and fuckin’ Patrick Stewart wants to put on an eye-patch and dance around an alien bar? Go ahead motherfucker! We’ll write that in!Mike: I-I-I hearken back to a wonderful little moment on Star Trek—Rich: Patrick Picard wants to ride a dune-buggy? Fuck yeah! Here’s a dune-buggy!Mike: Do-Do you remember—Rich: That’s how much respect they have for, for the franchise!Mike: All I’m tryin’ to say is Captain Picard would not do a wacky accent!Rich: NO, OF COURSE HE WOULDN’T! OF COURSE CAPTAIN PICARD WOULD—CAPTAIN PICARD ISN’T HERE, MIKE!Mike: He’s not there.Rich: HE’S NOT HERE! That’s all an illusion, hahaha!

I have come to understand Geralt’s tiredness.

I have come to understand Ichigo’s feelings of powerlessness in the face of the injustices of the world.

I have come to understand Khan’s rage:

I’ve done far worse than kill you. I’ve hurt you. And I wish to go on… hurting you. I shall leave you as you left me, as you left her; marooned for all eternity in the center of a dead planet… buried alive! Buried alive…!

In this last quote, I have also truly come to understand Kubo. I understand him because I want to hurt him, as he so thoroughly, persistently, and remorselessly wants to hurt us, the fans of his work. I want to go on hurting him, as he goes on hurting us. I understand him perfectly, because I want to pay him back exactly in kind.

And the best way to begin to hurt him is to let his efforts wash over me without even batting an eye. To stand in defiance. To not give a single fuck.

Even with these understandings, for me, nothing has really changed from almost four years ago. The only thing that is different is that the timeframe until I am the last man standing has been extended a little. That’s it.

You want to know my thoughts? They are simple, and they boil down to two quotes. One is again from Khan:

Joachim: They’re still running with shields down.Khan: Of course! We are one big, happy fleet! Ah, Kirk, my old friend, do you know the Klingon proverb that tells us revenge is a dish that is best served cold? It is very cold… in space!

And the other is from JFK:

Don’t get mad. Get even.

[jinjojess]

DR Kirigiri Vol. 5 Summary Part X

Okay budding detectives, let’s finish up Chapter 1 of DRK5!

As an apology for the lateness of this, I translated easily 80% or more of this chapter straight up.

< LAST PART | NEXT PART >

Chapter 1 The Mania of Existence: Libra Girls’ Academy - Samidare Yui

As you may or may not remember from last time, Samidare had figured out the trick behind the Libra Girls’ Academy case, and is currently being held at nail gun point by Mizuiyama, who had also not only solved Yaki’s case for him, but had also brained him in the head with a lead pipe like some kind of Japanese-themed Clue character.

This part picks up where part VIII left off, with Samidare being on point as ever.

“You’re the culprit, Mizuiyama-san?”

“That I am.” She nodded, the nail gun still pressed to my chest. “I had thought that I’d win by separating you from Kirigiri Kyouko and forcing you to solve the case on your own, but you defied my expectations by figuring out the secret of Libra Girls’ Academy. Unfortunately, that has made you quite the pain in my side.”

“So you ending up the suspect during the Takeda Haunted House case was all part of the plan too?”

“Perhaps it was.”

“What do you mean, ‘perhaps’?”

“This is all being guided by Mr. Ryuuzouji, no?”

So basically, she was saying that despite all of the seemingly random things that had happened, we were still all playing right into Ryuuzouji Gekka’s hand.

“Why did you kill Takezaki-san?”

“We had a bit of an altercation two years ago when I was working as a school counselor, but I won’t get into the details. It’s a long story that you won’t be interested in anyway, and my arm is getting tired.”

((Well jeez, Mizuiyama. I wanted to know. Just like I wanted to know why the Despair Twins have different last names.))

“Mizuiyama-san, if you’re the culprit, then that means you’re well-versed in Duel Noir. You’ve lost. Even if you killed me, that wouldn’t change anything.”

“I suppose you’re right. I have lost this game. But what about the others still remaining?”

“Huh...?”

“You must solve all twelve cases in order to defeat Mr. Ryuuzouji, isn’t that right?”

I had no idea what she was getting at, so I just nodded.

“You really don’t pick up on much, do you? You need me to explain? I don’t want Mr. Ryuuzouji to step down. Not as a detective, and not as a member of the Committee for the Salvation of the Victims of Crime.”

Ah, so that was it. She was one of Ryuuzouji Gekka’s devotees, huh.

Even compared to other great detectives, Ryuuzouji was on an entirely different level. Lots of people looked up to him and wanted to be just like him. I had to admit that I’d had quite the respect for him too, so much so that even now I couldn’t shake it entirely.

“I too have considered becoming someone who could save people. Despite that, there’s just some kind of deficiency in me that prevents that...conviction, in other words. Conviction is easy to talk about, but much harder to follow through on. There are so many things that can prey on it... Giving up because of a lack of skill, making concessions to the opinions of those around you, allowing your authority to be undermined... There are so many ways for it to break under the slightest pressure. Yet, what I see in Mr. Ryuuzouji’s expression is pure, beautiful conviction. If you follow the laws of this world, beauty is stability. Like transmuting something on a molecular level to create gold--don’t you think conviction could be said to be the emotional form of that?” Mizuiyama said, excited.

I didn’t really understand what she was talking about, but it was clear that she was devoted to Ryuuzouji. 

((I mean, who wouldn’t be? Dude is badass. Even Junko Lico respects him.))

“I mean, if you kill me here, it’s true I wouldn’t be able to solve all twelve cases, but...do you really think Ryuuzouji-san would want to live that way? Considering how much he talks about fair play, I can’t imagine he’d be satisfied with our battle of wits ending this way.”

“You sure are speaking as if you know anything about anything,” Mizuiyama said, angrily pressing the nail gun into me. “You misunderstand. I have no intention of killing you here. Just as originally intended, I plan to keep you held prisoner until the time limit is up.”

“You can try, but someone will come to rescue me. I have full faith in that.”

“For instance, Kirigiri Kyouko? You have a point...she is the most dangerous adversary I have right now. But I wonder if she’d even bother to come here? Remember, I have your phone. I can have you tell her yourself that you’re doing just fine.”

“And if I tell her I’m in danger?”

“Well then, if you were that dedicated to throwing everything away, I suppose you’d force my hand, and I’d have to take a more forceful approach to ending the game. In other words, I’d kill you.”

“It doesn’t matter, she’d still come here of her own accord anyway. After solving all of the other cases, she’d come here no doubt. Probably faster than you’d think, even!”

((Samidare doesn’t even flinch at this, she’s so secure. What a good. I love this ship.))

“Don’t worry, I’ve already planned a countermeasure for that.”

“How?”

“Yesterday, after I split off from all of you, I went to the Museum of Medieval Western European Torture Devices as promised and poked around. Right after that, I headed to Bar GOODBYE to investigate there. By the way, I’ve already devised the culprit and the trick for both cases.”

((To be fair, the culprit for the Bar GOODBYE case wasn’t exactly difficult.))

“Wha?”

“Do you understand what that means?”

“...I don’t.”

“I already know the question and the answer for both cases. I’ve cracked both of them before any of you, and whether or not I hand over that information is entirely up to my discretion.”

“Who cares? We can just investigate ourselves!”

“Looks like you still don’t get it. You’re all lagging behind. While you’re all playing catch up, I could have mixed lies in with the evidence. Of course, I can’t do anything to change the answer, but what about the question? I could plant false evidence, fake testimony, involve unrelated people as red herrings...”

((A few years later, Kirigiri just shakes her head during the second trial of Junko’s game, thinking about how Togami is amateur hour.))

“Huh?!”

How did she even come up with something like that?

“So next I’m going to start handing out fake information like candy. You lack the ability to tell if any of the clues you find are real or fake. You’d run out of time trying to puzzle it out.”

“You aren’t our only source of information, you know! Putting the museum aside, Yaki-san is handling the case at the bar.”

“He’s dead.”

“If we just ask him for informa... What did you just say?”

“He’s dead.”

“He died?”

“Yes. I killed him. Oh dear, it seems I’ve added an unnecessary crime to my plate. I may have lost my chance at changing my name and starting a new life since I lost the game, but if I can help Mr. Ryuuzouji win, then I don’t mind staking my life on this.”

“Why are you so into Ryuuzouji-san...?”

“Haven’t you ever wondered who comes to the aid of the hero who has saved so many?” Mizuiyama said in a harsh tone. “No one thinks of the worries he carries on his shoulders. He has the right to salvation.”

“Can you really call what you’re doing salvation though? You’re just getting in the way of our showdown!”

“Shut up! What are you calling a showdown?!”

The usually reserved Mizuiyama exploded in fury.

Looks like I had touched a nerve.

“How dare you... A showdown, ha! ...Why were you chosen...?”

Mizuiyama’s hand trembled, but I knew she couldn’t lay a finger on me.

Of that I was sure. This was still Ryuuzouji’s game, and she’d never dream of breaking its rules.

“Don’t move.” Mizuiyama wiped her eyes with her free hand. “The second you think I won’t shoot, you seal your fate and prove what an idiot you are. I’ll do what I want. If you don’t want to end up like that man over there...”

It’s at this point that they realize that Yadorigi’s body is gone, a conspicuous blood trail leading out of the chapel and into the hallway. 

They both realize that Tsukiyo and Naz haven’t been sitting idly while all of this villain monologuing has been going on.

Mizuiyama keeps Samidare at nail gun point and has her walk backwards across the chapter and open the door to the hallway. There, they see Nazuna and Tsukiyo dragging Yadorigi toward the room at the end of the hall, and thanks to the ridiculousness of Samidare having to walk backwards toward them, they don’t get there in time to stop them from hiding out in the scale room. 

They go in, the scale goes down, and they’re no longer accessible.

Mizuiyama isn’t too upset by this, saying they aren’t her focus anyway. She moves the nail gun to aim at Samidare’s head instead.

“On your knees, hands behind your back.”

“Um...”

“I don’t care, just do it!” she yelled.

It seemed like she was getting close to her breaking point. It would be better not to push her right now.

I followed her orders.

I was really in it now.

What would Kirigiri Kyouko do at a time like this?

...That wouldn’t work. There was a huge gulf between our basic level of ability. I didn’t know any self-defense techniques, and it’s not like my quick wit was going to tip the scales.

“As we agreed, you are going to sit here obediently and wait for time to run out.”

Mizuiyama pulled a set of handcuffs from somewhere and slapped them on my wrists.

How many times had I been handcuffed now in recent memory...?

Just accept the kink, Samidare. It will be easier this way.

Mizuiyama goes on to say that she’ll feed Samidare and let her use the bathroom and bathe as she deems fit, though if she tries anything funny, those privileges will be revoked.

It’s at this point that they hear someone’s voice from the chapel.

“Hey, Detectiiiiive! Where’d you go? We thought we were trapped, but then all of a sudden we could get out!”

It was a boy’s voice. He sounded like an idiot.

Who the heck was that?

“Oh, someone’s here.”

They entered into the hallway from the still open door.

“Detectiiiiiiive... Huh, who’re you?”

A short young man in a trench coat was ambling our way. Behind him I could see a robust, punk-looking boy and a girl wearing a qipao for some reason.

What was with this weird group?

Something I couldn’t quite accept was going on.

Mizuiyama appeared to be the same boat.

Thrown off, she turned to face them, nail gun drawn and aimed in their direction.

“D-Don’t come any closer!”

“Yo, Columbo, this is lookin’ pretty damn rough, y’know?”

It seemed the punk boy had finally realized something was amiss.

“RUN!” I yelled at them, as loud as I could.

“What should we do, Senpai? They’re telling us to run...?”

“Telling us to run? No, no, that’s them asking for help! Let’s go, Kousuke, Ellery!”

The boy in the trench coat began to run toward us.

“Feckin’ hell!”

The punk and the girl in qipao followed after.

What the heck were they thinking?!

In a panic, Mizuiyama aimed the gun and pulled the trigger with a trembling finger.

A fat nail fired from the gun with a thun sound.

“Ellery!”

The girl opened the umbrella she had in her right hand. The nail ripped into it, but stopped, its head still visible on this side.

“Kousuke! Jump!”

“Alright!”

The punk boy sprang from behind the umbrella, like a giant bullet, drop-kicking Mizuiyama.

((I fucking love these side novels, man.))

Surprisingly even for a small woman, Mizuiyama flew backwards into the door so hard the air around me shuddered. She collapsed to the floor, looking like a doll whose soul had just left it.

“Y-Yo, she ain’t dead, right? I don’t want to be a fuckin’ murderer!”

“It’s okay... She’s alive...” said the qipao-clad girl, taking Mizuiyama’s pulse.

“That sure was a close one, eh young miss?” the trench coat wearing boy said, coming closer. “We are the escheemed members of the Ouu Daitouitsu University Myschtery Research Club, at your schervice.”

“What’s the fuckin’ lisp, man? Ah, that’s our club prez.”

“President, that was...not very cool...”

“I uh...thank you?” I still had no idea what was going on, but I bowed my head for the time being. “Could you get these handcuffs off me?”

“Aw yeah, it’s time!”

The boy pulled something that looked like a hairpin from his trench coat pocket and stuck it into the keyhole of my handcuffs. After about five minutes, during which he kept muttering “huh? weird” to himself, in the end the cuffs came off.

I used them to restrain Mizuiyama instead.

Letting out a sigh of relief now that the danger had passed, I sank to the floor.

Samidare learns that the Mystery Research Club was involved in the Kareobana Academy case, and tagged along with Yadorigi to join him here. Originally, only Yadorigi was going to get off the helicopter, but the club members (minus Tooru, obviously) wanted to help out and so disembarked as well. 

While investigating and ripping the boards sealing the entrance, they ended up entering into the room on the opposite end of the scales as Samidare & co., which was why they were able to get out. (Samidare notes that they must have been slightly heavier to set off that reaction, considering that they were roughly the same number of people, plus a body on one side and a Virgin Mary statue on the other. She chalks this up to Kousuke being a big boy.)

Samidare considers how Mizuiyama’s plan was likely to escape once she and the girls were trapped, planning to just seal the doors back up from the outside. But then she got to the entryway, found it already busted open, and in her panic jumped out to attack Yadorigi.

After cuffing Mizuiyama, we began to carry items in to try and offset the scales and move the left tower. We used large rocks lying around outside, boards that had been used to seal up the door...then shut the door to see if the scales moved. When they didn’t, we tried adding more. Following several failed attempts, we finally got the scales to move again.

We rushed to the right tower.

When we opened the door, Tsukiyo and Nazuna looked in our direction, terrified. Once they saw it was me, though, they threw themselves forward to hug me and sobbed.

“He! He’s still alive! We need to hurry and get him to a hospital!” Tsukiyo said, pointing toward Yadorigi. Her and Nazuna’s sailor uniforms were smeared with blood. I wondered if they’d held onto Yadorigi this entire time.

“He’s the one who suggested we hide in this room. Thanks to him, we were saved,” Nazuna said.

Thanks to them putting their combined weight on the scale, they were able to force the room down and not let anyone else in. That was what had let the Mystery Club members out, and thanks to that, I’d been saved from my desperate situation.

It was just after seven a.m. on January 12th, that the case of Libra Girls’ Academy was closed.

So yeah, that’s it for Chapter 1 of DRK5!

The next chapter is pretty hefty compared to these mini-chapters, so it will take me a little bit to get it all down. 

That said though, I’m back in the swing of things and will start working on it right away!

< LAST PART | NEXT PART >

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing (SMUT)

anonymous said: Hey love! Love your writing so so so much! Can you do another Ben Hardy smut please? Thank you! Xx  AND  anonymous said: What about cockwarming with Ben Hardy ? ;)

(a/n: combining these because they’re similar and I need a break on requests omfggggg theres so many – also, just a heads up, but there probably wont be much any content from Friday to Sunday because I’ll be out of town. I’ll try to get part 5 of TNC out before then, and then I’ll come back with a cute lil sinful sunday joe piece hehe. also didnt have time to proofread so if u see a mistake.... mind ur business)

“This is dumb. I’m just…. I’m going to drop out and live on the streets. I wonder if the underground red light district is a thing here.”

“It’s reassuring to hear that you know little to nothing about the sex shop scene of London,” Ben chuckled, blowing on the surface of his tea as he padded over to you. His hand dwarfed the cup, the veins in his arm protruding as he firmly gripped the handles of the mugs he was carrying. You gave him a quick once-over, smiling ever-so-slightly at the sight of your sex symbol boyfriend clad in dad boxers and slippers, looking like he’d just woke up, carrying two mugs of tea. It was a contrast, sure, but you didn’t really mind – Ben easily pulled off the messy, sleep-worn look like it was his job, and the tea was a welcome sight if you’d ever seen one.

“Thank you, babe,” you murmured as he sat yours down on the desk, a safe distance from the laptop you were just furiously typing at. As he leaned down, you tilted your head back to meet his lips in an affectionate kiss, and you smiled happily when he pulled away. Momentarily, he’d made you forget why you were pissed off in the first place, and you drank your tea contently as you looked up at him.

“So what’s the problem?” he asked, returning your attention to the screen, where you had a Quizlet for Much Ado About Nothing pulled up. You were in Intro to Shakespeare, and although you respected and revered the man as a genius, you just could not wrap your head about this work of Willy Shake’s, and the midterm was tomorrow. “Ooh, this is one of the better ones. Have you watched the film with Keanu Reeves in it? One of his more interesting roles, honestly.”

“Really, one of the better ones?” you groaned, burying your head in your arms as you laid down on the desk, defeated by this work. “I’m hopeless, Ben. Not even Keanu Reeves can save me now.”

“Well, although I’d love to call Keanu in and see him try, how about we settle for the next best thing?” he teased gently, tapping your side in a silent effort to make you move, so you pouted as you stood up and let him take a seat, then plopped right back down on his lap as you huffed. “Do you just want help studying? I love Much Ado, I could help you.”

“I don’t want to study anymore,” you grumbled, leaning back against his chest and crossing your arms as you glared at the laptop, which dimmed from the lack of usage. Ben’s arms snaked around your waist, a warm, inviting embrace that distracted you from the shit fit you were currently trying to throw. “I told you already, I’m going to drop out and become a hooker. You can be the pimp.”

Ben’s chest moved in a silent, exasperated sigh, and you held back a laugh as he chose not to entertain your wild suggestions, instead kissing your shoulder as he reached out and pressed a key, brightening the screen again. “Okay, Ms. Fussy, let’s just go over the flashcards.”

“How about we don’t and say we did?” Clearly fed up with your studies, you began to turn around in the seat so you could straddle him, but he caught on quickly and grabbed your hips, keeping you where you were.

Ben’s voice was lower this time, sending a shiver up your spine as he spoke. “Being a rascal tonight, are we?” You shook your head, vehemently denying the accusation, but he wasn’t blind to the obvious – you were purposely acting up to distract from the fact that you were horribly unprepared for the midterm. This illustrated itself in the way that one of his arms secured itself around your waist, the other reaching forward the pull up the flashcards on Quizlet. “Listen, Y/N, I’d love to take you over the desk right now.” Another shiver went up your spine. Damn this man and all his stupid, sexy words. “But as much as I love the sight of you in those sexy little pajama shorts you’ve got on right now, shagging on the desk wouldn’t be very productive, would it?”

He was right, unfortunately, and you pouted as you mumbled an incoherent answer that he could only gauge as a no. A soft chuckle left his lips and he pressed another kiss to your shoulder, lingering just a bit this time and giving a gentle nip to the skin as he pulled away. Making an involuntary pleased noise in the back of your throat, you leaned into him as he trailed the same love bites up your neck, stopping just below your jaw. “Ben, this isn’t very productive either,” you reminded him, your voice strained a bit as you tried not to completely melt at his touch.

“Okay, fair enough,” he admitted, pressing a gentle kiss to your jaw before nuzzling your neck, just sitting there and relishing in your presence for a moment before he spoke again. “How about we go on the middle ground? Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” you replied, not missing a beat. Trusting Ben? It was like second nature. You’d trusted him through thick and thin, through long nights crying because of period symptoms, through extended time away for filming. There was an endless amount of trust between the two of you, and that was something that extended to right here, right now.

“Then take off your pants, lovie,” he almost whispered, making your cheeks flush at the unholy sound. His voice was a sin in itself, dripping with lust, saturated with desire, and you were going to drown if you didn’t get your pants off soon. So, without another thought, you slipped your pants off, setting them to the side, and turned around to find Ben also slipping his boxers off. He was almost completely hard already, and he looked up at you as he started to stroke himself. There was a glint in his eyes, unreadable, but alluring as ever, and the smirk that played at his lips was fatally boyish, a sure sign that he was up to something.

When he patted his thigh as an offering to take a seat again, you did, straddling his right thigh as you faced the desk. And without hesitation, he pulled you back against him once again, slipping a hand down to rub your clit through your panties, which were gathering wetness by the second. How Ben turned you on with barely a look, you would never understand.

Ben’s thick arm wrapped around your waist to hold you flush against him, and he worked just one finger at your clit, the lacey fabric of your panties creating a whole new sensation that filled you with warmth and rolling waves of pleasure. You couldn’t help yourself as you began subtly grinding against his hand, eager for more, and Ben had to chuckle. “You really are being a little rascal tonight, so eager.”

“Just want you inside me,” you moaned softly, jolting slightly when he slipped your panties to the side, applying pressure directly to your clit.

“That’s the plan.” His voice was barely more than a mutter at this point, but even through the gravelly tone, you could make his words out clearly. “That’s been the plan since you put those damned skimpy little shorts on.”

That made you smirk. You knew exactly what you were doing with those bed shorts, and he knew that just as well as you. It didn’t stop him from complaining about it after every time he fucked you senseless because of them, and this would probably be no exception. Or, at least that’s what you thought.

Reaching back, you wrapped your hand around his cock and marveled at how hard he’d become in just minutes, the tip already leaking a bit of precum, which you gathered and used for lube as you began to lazily stroke the tip. He thrusted into your hand for just a moment, then groaned at himself and reluctantly pulled your hand away, instead moving you so you were directly over his lap. He pushed your panties to the side once again, dragging his cock through your folds to gather your wetness as he kissed your back lightly. “Ready?”

When he saw your nod, you could feel him pushing into you, and you let out a low moan as he stretched you out, the feeling still just as euphoric and simultaneously alien as the first time you’d fucked. Ben was breathing shallowly, the hot, short breaths hitting your back and raising goosebumps on the area as you sunk down onto his cock, slowly adjusting to him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hissed, catching his tongue between his teeth as he bottomed out. Now you were seated on his lap, his cock buried deep into you, and as much as he wanted you to move, he had to make himself secure his arms around your waist, locking you down into the position. “Now, baby, listen to me,” he demanded, his voice a tad less directive than he’d like, but just dominant enough. “Every time you get an answer right, you can move again for 15 seconds. No more, alright? If you get it wrong or try to move out of turn, you have to sit there for 15 seconds without moving or talking.”

Horribly insecure about your knowledge of the play, every part of your brain was screaming at you to say no, to accept defeat. But your body was on fire, overwhelming your brain as your boyfriend was literally balls deep inside of you and not going anywhere. You needed movement, desperately, and if this was how you had to get it, then you were going to fucking ace that midterm if it killed you. So, you gave a reluctant nod and held back a gasp as he turned the chair ever so slightly so he could see the flashcard, grabbing his phone, which made him shift just a tiny bit inside of you.

“Alright, first question – what plan does Borachio devise that pleases Don John?” Ben’s voice was just as strained as you felt, but he showed remarkable control as he refused to move, waiting for anything, an answer, a pass, a guess. This one, luckily, you knew.

“He’s going to fuck Margaret on the balcony while she’s in Hero’s clothes, so Claudio will see and think Hero is a whore,” you answered hurriedly, Ben chuckling at your eagerness as he scrolled to 15 seconds on the time.

“Don’t think you can word it that way on the exam, but close enough.” With that, he started the timer and you rolled your hips, letting out a sigh of relief and a breathy moan as the much-needed movement was granted. But the 15 seconds were up before you knew it, and Ben’s arm trapped you once again, rendering you useless as he stopped the alarm. “Good girl. Next question – how much money will Don John pay Borachio if this works?”

Fuck. That one had you stumped. Who pays attention to details like that? You could hardly think as your mind wandered to Ben, his hand, wrapped around your throat just a bit, cutting off just a part of your air supply as he took you from behind. But his hand wasn’t at your throat. It was gripping your hips, the owner waiting for your answer patiently. “50 big ones?” you answered, smiling nervously as you knew the answer wasn’t even close, a quick tut-tut from Ben confirming the worst. You whined as you realized that this meant you’d have to wait even longer to move again, and you almost slumped over before you realized that the movement would be dangerously close to losing you another 15.

“1000 ducats. 50 big ones, really?” he teased, hitting start on the timer again as you tried to hold back your whimper, the feeling of him just resting inside of you driving you crazy. It was agonizing, silence and stillness and no hot, steamy sex where you’re lucky to make it out with less than three orgasms. Ben was quiet, stoic, and he stretched you out almost uncomfortably as you sat there. You were desperate for some kind of stimulation – you needed him worse than you’d ever needed him before. When the 15 second was up, you hit the next button for him, hurrying him into the next question and making him laugh at your impatience. “When Benedick is hiding in the garden, what do Don Pedro, Balthasar, and Claudio ‘reveal’ to his snooping ear?”

“Uhhh, is it that Beatrice is in love with him?” you asked, cringing as you waited for the correct answer. It was actually scaring you how well Ben was taking this cockwarming right now, and you wanted desperately to get this one right so you could show him just what he was missing by staying still.

“Correct,” Ben replied, and you moaned out in relief as he started the time again. This time you circled your hips, knowing it would drive him crazy – and it did. He groaned out your name as you did so, his grip loosening on your hips when you circled them again, sending a shockwave of pleasure up his whole body as he nearly forgot to abide by the timer. He was the more reluctant of the two as he shut it off, trapping you again. To add to the teasing, you clenched around him, making him jump ever so slightly as he growled, “Watch it.”

“Oops?” You feigned innocence, shrugging as you returned to normal. This continued on for all 30 questions, and you found yourself practically aching to just have a moment to breathe as all of this brief movement was edging you, promising relief and then absolutely denying it a few seconds too soon. It was exciting, sure, but you were not a fan of this cockwarming business after about 10 questions of pure teasing. When he hit the last question, you were ready to swear off of it forever. The question was about the evidence that Claudio and Hero had to prove that Beatrice and Benedick loved each other. “Oh, that’s easy,” you said, “- love letters.”

“Good girl,” Ben groaned as he shut the laptop, sitting back and sighing in relief. “You did so good. You’ll ace that midterm, for sure.”

You rose off of him slowly, wincing at the loss as you stood, and you could feel his sturdy hands resting on your hips as he rose to his feet as well. He was still painfully hard, his cock veiny and red as he tugged you over to the bed with him, crawling under the covers with you and hovering over you as you laid flat on your back, exhausted by what had just happened. You’d never been brought to the edge so many times, only to just have to wait there and suffer as the high slowly receded again and again.

Ben’s soft, slender lips pressed against your own, bringing you out of your own thoughts as you reciprocated earnestly, a hand reaching up to cup his jaw. He was slow and deliberate with his kisses, deepening them as he moved to kneel between your legs, supporting his weight on his elbows.

Pulling away, you nudged his nose with yours as you took a breather, watching as his eyes slowly opened to reveal dilated pupils, blown out from lust and overexertion. You could barely see the beautiful green irises that framed the pupil, too obscured by the need that was overwhelming him at this point. “Hey – we did good,” you murmured, Ben’s eyebrows furrowing as he sat up a bit, eyes running over your features. “But let’s never do that again.”

An amused laugh escaped his lips and he nodded in agreement as he pressed his lips to yours once more, just briefly, and then he was sitting back on his heels as he pulled your hips toward him. “As much as I enjoyed seeing you squirm, it also made me squirm, so I 100% agree.” Wrapping your legs around his waist, he lined himself up at your entrance again, stroking himself a few times before sliding into you once again.

You gasped, a soft ‘oh’ escaping your lips as you realized he wasn’t nearly as warm as he was minutes before, and he paused as he raised an eyebrow in question. “Don’t stop, just adjusting,” you murmured, a slight redness filling your cheeks as he grinned and shook his head.

“Alright, just checking.” And with that, he’d buried himself in you once again. But now, he wasn’t stilling in you. Now, he was moving, his thrusts rhythmic and medium-paced as he bit down on his lower lip, digging his fingers into your thighs and using them as leverage. This was a welcome change of pace from moments ago, the feeling of his hips meeting yours with each thrust making you moan in appreciation.

Reaching down, you took one of his hands, clutching at it and murmuring, “Faster.” You needed more. You needed release, the sweet feeling of release, after you’d been denied it for that long. And he complied, grunting softly as he sped up his thrusts, filling the room with the sound of skin on skin and short, panting breaths. He kept a tight grip on your hips with one hand while the other moved up your side to just below your ribcage, his touch light enough to set off goosebumps. You were overwhelmed with pleasure, closing your eyes to relish in the sounds and touches, all light, but equally heavy.

“Can’t hold off much longer, don’t have a condom,” Ben admitted as he took a trembling breath, slowing down his thrusts for a moment and attempting to pull out, but you locked him into you by pressing your heels into the small of his back, trapping him as your eyes opened suddenly. The wordless exchange that took place between you made Ben moan lowly as he realized what you were saying with your actions, and he nodded before returning to his previous pace, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “God, I fucking love you.”

“I love you too, babe, now let go,” you murmured, your sentence punctuated with a moan as he pressed his thumb to your clit, rubbing it in quick circles to match the rhythm of his hips. Your climax crept up on you out of nowhere at this action, overtaking your body and making you writhe in pleasure as you called out his name, your face contorted with euphoria. As you clenched around him, you dug your heels into his back again, causing his hips to stutter and triggering his own orgasm. You faintly heard him grunting and groaning all kinds of expletives as he came inside you, the feeling of all of this happening at once only deepening the sensation for the both of you.

“Oh, Christ,” he murmured as he pulled out of you, trying to catch his breath as he reached for the tissues on the nightstand. His chest was reddish in color, heaving with each breath he took, and he glistened with sweat as he tried to clean the both of you up as best as he could. After a minute or two, he gave up on the tissues and flopped down on the bed next to you, wiping at his forehead quickly. “You alright?” he asked breathily, looking over at you as you laid there, letting your body recover from what had certainly been an interesting hour or so.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, reaching out to take his hand and bringing it up to your mouth when you did so, kissing his knuckles as you looked over at him. “Love you, bubs.”

“Love you too, angel.” A smile lit up his face as he gazed over at you affectionately, his eyes no longer blown-out from sex, having returned to their original pale green luster that you adored so much. He was currently a sweaty mess, sure, but that only endeared him to you more, and he was thinking the exact same thing about you as he reached over, cupping your face and leaning forwards for a quick, tender kiss. “Now, aren’t you glad that we didn’t call Keanu Reeves in for this?

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