#s: (deadly serious) dis is how i roll.

[sazwritesstuff]

Unexpected | Logan x reader drabble

Summary: your night out at a bar with your friends hadn't really gone to plan. It had looked like it was going to end up being a boring, lonely night until a chance encounter makes it a lot more fun.

TW: alcohol, a little violence, minor misogyny (arsehole at the bar)

Word count: 828 | AO3

You’d been excited when your friends had suggested going out to a bar tonight. Hoping that you’d get a chance to catch up over some booze. Have a few laughs. You know, the something casual and lowkey. But those hopes had died as soon as one, then another and another, had drifted away chatting with other people in the bar.

You couldn't really blame them for wanting to flirt with some attractive people. Hell, you'd probably do the same if someone caught your eye in this crowd. But, alas, none had.

But what had started off as a nice catch up with friends had dissolved into you sipping away at your drink. Alone.

The plan was to finish your drink, say goodbye to your friends and then go home. Maybe grab a burger on your way home too. Just as a little pick-me-up after being practically abandoned by your friends.

It was a solid plan. A good plan. A boring plan. But a plan none the less.

Sighing, you lifted your drink up to your lips and took a large mouthful. The quicker you finished this drink, the sooner you could go home.

A voice broke through your little mental pity party “What’s a pretty lady like yourself doing drinking alone?” Internally sighing and trying not to roll your eyes you glanced over at the guy that had slid up to your table.

White trousers, blue button shirt, brown shoes. The guy stuck out like a sore thumb in this crowd. His clothes and haircut were just a little too clean. And not really your type.

“I’m having a drink. By myself.” Making a show of taking a deep drink.

Apparently, the man took it as an invitation to take one of the seats your friends had abandoned about twenty minutes ago. “How about I join you?”

“You already have.” You muttered taking another swig of beer “But I’m not interested.”

He laughed as if you’d said the funniest thing in the world, leaning towards you leering. “Pretty and funny, a deadly combination.” You weren’t sure if the man was trying to make an alluring face or was having some sort of stroke. “I’m Gregory by the way.” He stuck his hand out for a shake. You ignored it.

“And I’m still not interested.” You moved to stand up, deciding that this wasn’t worth it, Gregory’s hand grabbing ahold of your arm. Tightly.

“Hey, come on now-”

“She said she ain’t interested, bub.” A gruff voice said from behind you.

“Stay out of this, man. Me and the lady are just having a little-”

You didn’t realise that you’d hit him until he was squealing like a pig clutching his nose. “You just punched me!” he shouted.

At least he’d let go of your arm.

“You’re lucky it wasn’t me; I would’ve broken your nose.” Piped up the man behind you. You let out a laugh at his words. Out of the corner of your eye you could see one of your friends looking over from where they stood by the bar. “Although, I’d be happy to teach you how to break a creep like this ’s nose, if you want?”

“Nah, that’s alright, thanks though.” You said finally turning around to look at your backup and felt your stomach do a little flip. This man was G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S, gorgeous. On second thought, “Actually, made you should. But you have to buy me a drink first.”

“Deal.” The man smirked at you, his eyes quickly scanning up and down your body not even trying to hide that he was checking you out. “I’m Logan.”

“Y/n.”

“Excuse me?!” the man that you’d punched squawked “Are you serious? First, you flirt with me-”

“I did not flirt with you.”

“- then you punched me, and now you’re flirting with some old guy-”

“Old?” Logan frowned.

“- that interrupted us! The least you could do is apologise!”

“No.” you said turning back to Logan, “Do you want to go get a burger instead? I’m not really liking the vibes in here tonight.”

“Sure, I could eat.” He gestured for you to go ahead and he followed after you as you made your way out the bar. The both of you leaving Gregory, still causing a ruckus, and your friends behind.

You quickly shot off a text to the group chat to let them know that you were going.

"So, do you have anywhere in mind?" The man, Logan, asked as you stepped outside.

You grinned "I've got a place in mind."

The night had not gone in the direction that you had expected. It definitely hadn't gone they way you'd planned. You weren’t the type of person to leave a night out early often. And especially not with someone you’d just met, but you were glad you had that night.

The burger you’d shared with Logan that night had been good. But the breakfast he’d made you the next more had been even better.

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Absbsbsn I should preface this post by saying that I'm not posting about this to call people stupid or hate or anything

But now that I've caught up to the dungeon meshi anime (as someone who hasn't touched the manga yet), it makes me laugh seeing those posts about anime onlies getting blown out of the water with the "tonal shift"

Like don't get me wrong, all of those scenes in episodes like 12 and 13 are very impactful (the scene where they're trying to bring Falin back after killing the dragon especially got me)

But like, having slice of life esque stuff only to come out of nowhere with dead or horror or gore or blood is not something that just suddenly starts happening in the recent episodes.

Like...after the orcs rushed the bar in that one episode, I started rolling with the punches😂

The first episode started out with Falin being eaten by a dragon

Marcille decided to try the dog method for harvesting mandrake, and it scared me for a minute when the bat collided with the tower and we learned that Marcille heard the scream

Laois is being Laois and wondering if he can eat living armor. He tells the group the story of how he got his sword and we watch him get stabbed through and die

The crew has decided to go and trade the fresh veggies so as to not waste food, so they go into a bar and fail to make it appeal to the bar owner. The bar is suddenly rushed by orcs who start killing people

We get to see all these tidbits of Kabru's party, introducing them as characters, and then Laois and friends come across them and they're DEAD

You think "haha Chilckuck has a funny vendetta against mimics and doesn't want to end up eating one because of Senshi and Laois" and then Chilkuck gets up in the middle of night to get water only to be stuck in a puzzle room of the horror genre variety where he's trying not to get stabbed/killed via trap or killed via mimic. Marcille thinks she accidentally killed Chilchuck for not looking out for him sooner.

Senshi tells the group that he's gonna cross the water without magic and calls up is kelpie friend, Anne, who he talks to everyone about. He gets on and Anne immediately drags him into the water and tries to kill him. Marcille and Chilchuck think Senshi or Laois died or got severely hurt because of the blood that pools to the top. Senshi prepares to eat the monster he once called friend, asking to do it himself

Marcille is worrying about Senshi's hair/beard cleanliness and trying to make the water walk spell work. Chilchuck and Laois walk on the water only to find Kabru's group dead...AGAIN?

Marcille pours out some hot water after cleaning herself and then has a deadly fight with the water spirit. Laois and Senshi go with Tansu's group so he'll heal Marcille (who is incredibly weak). Kiki and Laois almost die via tentacles in the process.

The giant frog throws out Marcille's staff and Laois's weapon. During the giant frog battle, Chilchuk almost gets eaten

Okay okay I'll quit now 😂

It's just funny to me because it felt like Dungeon Meshi is focusing on the slice of life esque bits and the delicious food, but from sudden violence to serious moments it's constantly reminding the audience and characters that the dungeon is a dangerous place, that they're on a dangerous mission, and of the problems beings who live in this world deal with (racial, monetarial, societal, etc)

And I should also mention that while for a while I just kind of saw everything as a constant "slice of life punctuated randomly by the horrors", I no longer feel that way. Honestly, I think it means a lot that so many makings of of the food(s) of the episode moments come just after the characters have been through a terrifying event, and it tells us a lot about the characters by how they handle these events (whether it affects them very visibly or they just kind of smooth over it because they're used to what it's like just being in the dungeon and having to fight for their lives)

[casspurrjoybell-32]

Burn For Me - Chapter 10a

*Warning Adult Content*

Conner Carmichael

It had been a week since I told off Cyrus.

It was early in the morning as I noticed the tension between Asher and Constance was thicker than normal.

I guess they must have had a serious battle yesterday.

We sat at the table eating breakfast like normal when Tammy came barging in.

"Alright maggots, it's time for a pop quiz. I want your scrawny butts outside, in five minutes," she went to leave but before she could turn the corner she looked at us both in the eyes.

"Better eat fast," she giggled and skipped out like she always did. Constance and I both rolled out eyes and continued eating.

Once outside I saw Tamitha standing next to Cyrus, whose hands were behind his back as he stood in a parade rest.

"Alright, one of you thinks that it's time to get the merry band back together so today we're sending you through a training coarse..." he trailed off and turned at once with Tammy and walked off into the woods.

Constance and I looked at each other shrugging as we followed behind them.

It took almost an hour to get to where ever it is we were going.

The moment we were close a familiar scent rushed at me and I snapped my head from talking with Asher and Constance and focused in front of me.

I saw a rickety old mansion of a house come into view... I shot forward only to have Cyrus snatch me back.

I uttered a deadly warning as I growled at him... I could feel my canines descending.

"Hold it lover boy," he snapped pushing me back into the group.

"This is going to be a true test of what you've learned. I'm letting Teagan join the group today, only because Connor thinks its best. If anyone dies today you can blame him," he added, smiling.

"Wait. You're setting Connor,s crazy mate loose? How am I supposed to focus, when I'm too busy worrying about burning to death?" Constance said, in outrage. 

"I don't know, take that up with Connor," Cyrus said, before walking towards the house.

"Good luck with that."

"Way to go, dumb ass," Constance retorted.

She pushed against my shoulder but I gave her no mind, as I took off in the direction of my mate.

As i passed the foliage, I came to stop right in front of Teagan.

He stood silent and watchful... his head slowly turned towards me.

He was in the regulated gear, as the rest of us and I had to say he pulled it off so well... I think I was drooling a bit.

"Alright. The goal of today, is to get the hostages out safely," Tammy's voice distracted me from further checking out my mate.

"There are of course obstacles you will run into. You must find a way to get through them by using your intelligence, your strength, agility and of course your stealth.  You are being timed," Cyrus pulled out a stop watch at her words.

"You have twenty minutes... Go."

Cyrus hit the button and we all rushed in leaving Asher behind with our trainers.

I stayed by Teagan's side, as Constance opened the front door quietly.

"Where do you think the hostages are?" Constance asked me as she surveyed the house.

I lifted my nose, seeing if anyone was close.

"The basement," the monotone I heard come out of my mate's mouth, caused me to turn in surprise.

Constance straightened from her defensive stance, to look over at him or more like, to stare at him with a frown.

"R-right," she said and went back to the job at hand.

We made our way further in the house, on alert, watching everything.

The only thing I heard were our boots echoing softly against the wood floors... scratch that, I heard Constance and my footsteps, not Teagan's.

It was like he wasn't even there, I actually had to look to see if he was still next to me.

The moment we turned the corner something jumped out at me and I instantly went in attack mode.

Our bodies collided as we scrapped on the floor.

Whoever it was had me in a tight hold.

"Go. Get the hostages," I told my team as I fought to get free.

I heard the sound of running as they left.

I got my arm free and jammed it into my opponents chin causing him to loosen his hold and I broke away.

I turned waiting for another attack but my attacker chose to stay on the floor.

I guess that mean he was staying out of the game.

That was when I noticed Teagan standing off the side with his hands balled up in fists.

He held a strained expression as he glared at the guy on the floor.

"Why didn't you go with Constance," I asked slowly approaching him.

He was giving off such a deadly aura everything in me told me to tread lightly.

"I don't know?" he growled through clenched teeth.

"Okay, well let's go catch up with her."

I walked past him and heard him follow me.

I think I pasted about five groaning men on the way down to the basement.

Geez, Constance sure can kick some ass.

We rushed down the stairs to find Constance free five hostages in white t-shirts that said... "Help."

"I got them, let's go," she told us.

Rounding up the group together we tried to go back the same way quietly but that was when all hell broke loose.

A cluster of about six men in black broke out of nowhere and attached us.

Constance and I stepped forward as Teagan stepped back maneuvering the group of hostages back.

I suppressed the smiled on my lips at his quickly thinking.

He was the most dangerous of all of us, it was better if he got the group out.

Two men came at me then and I welcomed it.

All my training from the last three months came rushing to me and my body moved on auto piolet.

I jammed my shoulder into the midsection on one man flipping him over my shoulder continuing forwards to grab the other man's arm with my hand as he went to punch me.

I spun around inward, twisting his arm as I went, the force lifting him off the floor and flipping him to the ground.

I went to the next guy elbowing him in the ribs and kicking his legs out from under him.

I glanced over at Constance who had already dispatched her lot.

"Go," she said rushing us out of the house.

Someone came out next to me with a gun and I instantly brought my wrist up into theirs and knocking it out of their hands as I kicked them in the stomach sending them backwards in the wall.

The moment we got outside Cyrus hit the stop watch.

"How did we do?" Constance asked gasping for breath.

I was bent over with my hands braced on my knees as I tried to get as much oxygen in my lungs as possible.

I glanced to see Cyrus and Tamitha's bewildered faces.

"Well?" I asked exasperated.

"Ten Minutes," Cyrus said dumbfounded.

A grin spread on my lips as Constance and I high fived.

"Yeah," Constance cheered.

"Let's do that shit again," she exclaimed, super pumped.

I turned to my mate with the same grin but he held no expression as he met my elated gaze with is empty one.

Frowning, I turned away from him and focused on our mentors. 

"That's the fastest time I've ever seen from such a small group," Tamitha said staring at us in awe.

"Well it would have been a lot faster if my powers were working," Constance sassed.

"Yes, well... we have a member nullifying your powers nearby," Cyrus's

eyes skipped towards Teagan so quickly I almost missed it.

"Why?" she asked confused.

"We have our reasons," Cyrus said, mysteriously.

"Let's get back now. I think you three earned a day off but now that we've seen your potential, we're upping the stakes from now on," Tammy giggled skipping off.

Cyrus smiled and shook his head walking beside her.

And I just noticed the wolf trotting beside him then.  

Again we made the long tread back to the house.

Half way there I noticed that both Teagan and I were alone as the others were farther up then us through the trees.

The silence between us was awkward and tense as I watched him become aware our situation.

"So how have you been lately."

I didn't know what else to say.

I looked over at him when he didn't say anything and saw the frown etched in his brow as he stared at the ground.

Suddenly a horde of emotions rushed through me and I growled.

"You know if you'd just let me in I could probably help you," I exclaimed in frustration.

I was fed up with him ignoring me all the time.

All I've ever wanted from him is to talk with me.

I understand he's been through something terrible but was it too much to ask for a little acknowledgment? 

He was my MATE for fuck's sake.

He stopped then causing me to do the same.

We stood facing each other.

I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks in embarrassment at how childish I just sounded.

"I don't know what you expect from me?" he suddenly said in his raspy voice and I frowned in confusion.

"Expect from you?" I echoed.

There was a silence.

"You think you want to know me because of this mate thing you all are so fond of but I am far from someone you want to know."

His empty eyes stared me down and I felt a chill shiver up my spine.

"Well that's not fair is it? I want to get to know you, no matter what you have to tell me. You're my mate, this is what we do, we accept our other halves as who they are," I said hopefully getting through to him.

He gave a cruel smile.

"Well I'm the exception, trust me," he said and walked past me continuing back towards the houses direction.

"Teagan," I called after him but he kept going and grabbed his arm.

He sprang back like I had burned him, crouched low and growled at me and I froze.

"You don't know me. You have no idea who I am and what I've done."

"Well, tell me. Let me in and tell me. That's what I'm here for. What I was born for," I stressed.

I stepped closer to him and he narrowed his eyes at me, in warning.

"Stop," he growled.

"Just leave me alone."

"Tell me what to do. I want to help, Teagan."

"You weren't there. You can't help me," he screamed suddenly, as a blast of fire came out of nowhere, crashing into my chest and sending me flying back, a few feet to land on my back.

I gasped trying to get my breath back, as I reached up to my chest, to feel the singed hole in my shirt but no burns, on my exposed skin.

I glanced up at Teagan with wide eyes.

He stood frozen as he watched me with I'm sure the same matching wide eyed stare as mine.

"They should have just kept me chained," he said backing away slowly, his shocked expression morphing back into the expressionless masked he always wore, his eyes dying right before mine.

"I asked for them... to take those... shackles off of you. You deserved to be free," I gasped, dazed and in shock at his abrupt attack, unable to mentally understand what just happened.

"Well... I'm free now but that wasn't a very good idea. Was it?"  he breathed, his voice shrouded in ominous foreshadowing.

And with that, I watched him walk away from me, until I could no longer see him.

[praphit]

BP Wakanda Forever: Let’s make love, not war.

(spoiler free!)

There has been a lot of anticipation heading into "Wakanda Forever".

At least from black people. I assume white people as well. Some white people might have been too afraid to come. There’s a lot of pressure to like this movie, especially in a theater full of black people :) 

I only say that because there were only like two white people in the theater I was in. And I don’t even know if I can count those two. They were pretty old.

Old people: “Are you sure this is Ticket to Paradise?” 

“George Clooney looks different?”

But, we’re finally here! - getting into some real talk; some grown-up stuff. Honestly, since Iron-Man died, things with Marvel have gotten a lil goofy:

I love Madisynn (with the one “Y” not where you think) as well, but Kang is coming, people! I’d have to say that they’re not quite ready.

So, some have been looking forward to Marvel getting a little more serious.

Some have been anxious to get into Namor's story (I'll get to him in a sec), who's a mutant... in hopes that perhaps we'll start to see subtle signs of The X-Men coming.

Some have even hoped for Storm.

(I know that’s not Storm, but... 

...

... yeah, I really just wanted to post a pic of Rihanna. She causes a storm in my heart

... sorry.)

Oh, and some were excited that perhaps we’d get a sighting of a UFC star (Kamaru Usman).

Perhaps it was just me.

And lastly, how are they going to handle Black Panther (T'Challa)? You were either on Team - "Y'all should replace Chadwick Boseman!" or Team - "Just make one of the other Wakandans Black Panther!" Maybe Angela Bassett :)

Ok, so slight spoiler.... Bassett (Ramonda, T'Challa's mama) doesn't get a shot at being the new BP. How awesome and bad ass would that have been though??!

What a great twist to Angela's Bassett's career :)

No matter which team you were on, it seems like there could be a problem. Either T'Challa gets plastic surgery for no reason, and no one talks about it

  (whoa! I feel like that surgery may have gone a lil far. Can you imagine? Y’all thought black people were mad in 2020 :)

or they just say "So and so is now BP! What happened to T'Challa? Oh, he blew up, but that's old news. Let's move on with the story." How is Feige and the Marvel crews gonna handle this one?

The movie starts off with a tribute to T'Challa/Boseman.

It's rich with the same culture that the first movie had.

It's rich with a celebration of life and of grief for the loss.

It's rich in the Wakandans beliefs.

And it's just... rich. It’s a HUGE funeral! Everyone and everything was decked out! We’re talking big money!

Looks like all of those endorsements have been literally paying off.

This tribute would be the first of many scenes that would have you in the feels.

We quickly turn from tribute to horror.

Blue people, from an underwater city called "Talokan, are popping up in and out of the depths of the sea at night. Military types are on a mission that would lead them to their demise. I say "horror" cuz we've got soldiers/scientists in the water suddenly disappearing. We've got soldiers on a boat disappearing, and some walking off the boat due to a siren song sung by the blue people (The Talokan choir has got real talent btw). They are not only soulful and pitch-perfect, but fast, deadly, and stealthy. If the victims are "lucky", I suppose they might get a glimpse of this sexy hunk of mutant before they die.

Namor (roll that "r", sonn!)

He is our "villain", I guess. Although, after he shares his story with the audience, it's hard for me to see him that way. This movie could have very well have been called "Sexy ass Namor: Talokan Forever", and have painted the Wakandans as the villains. Sure, there's something horrible that he wants to do, but he's just a ruler trying to do what's best for his people. So, who is the legit villain? Idk

White people? :) I'm joking... kinda.

The real villain(s)? - greed, war, and vengeance. We could debate on whom sowed the seeds of those three agents of destruction, but... let's move on :)

There's so much to love about this movie:

all of the tech from the first movie is here, along with a new character (Ironheart), 

the fight scenes are dope (especially ones with my main woman Okoye), even though this movie is sad, there's still enough good banter to liven things up when needed, plus everything about Namor is spectacular.

At the heart of the film are two dramatic performances by Angela Bassett and Letitia Wright (Shuri).

Bassett ranges from warm to classic stereotypical black mama who will slap you in public to grieving mother.

And Shuri... a solid part of the movie is really her story of how she's trying to cope with the loss of her brother (T'Challa).

It'll be hard for you not to get weepy.

Complaints?  - all minor. It's a long movie, but I didn't really notice while watching. There's so much beauty to look at, it's so well directed, and the story moves along well enough for you to get lost. I've heard weird complaints from others, like: "It needed Chadwick Boseman." which I don't even know how to respond to)  and "It was too sad." It IS sad, but it's centered around loss. That's like watching "Schindler's List" and wondering why they didn't squeeze some jokes in. And it seems like some just miss Marvel's typical formula with the fireworks at the end. They give you some climactic action at the end, but it never forgets what this movie is really about.

Ironheart could have been more fleshed out. There's a final battle between two people that seems a lil unbelievable. And there's a resolution to a conflict that could have easily been come to in the first act, and I'm surprised that Namor still wants to go through with his plan once he gets more info, but... there's way too much to love about this movie for me to get caught in the weeds of those complaints.

That Feige guy and the crew... just may know what they’re doing. They handled everything with Boseman/Black Panther perfectly.

Grade: A-

Look at him... you're telling me that if he comes up on you at night, glistening, shirtless, and leading his blue family in some John Legend songs, you won't want to swim off with him?

There's a moment when Namor and Shuri are alone. Namor is sweet talkin Shuri, giving her gifts, lighting candles, setting a... certain mood. 

Perfect time for them to get it on. In fact, perhaps there's no conflict had they just agreed to bang; for the good of their people, of course. Then, they could have shared a cig over some peace-bringing pillow talk. But, no... they had to be difficult.

That's the real moral of this story - There's time for talk, and there's time for gettin it on. You gotta know what time it is.

[inamindfarfaraway]

Sonic the Hedgehog movies AU where the times Knuckles and Sonic respectively arrive on Earth are reversed. Five-year-old Knuckles, searching his village for useful supplies after realizing that nobody is coming back, discovers the distant planet Earth marked as important on a map of likely locations the Owl Tribe may have hidden the Master Emerald. With nothing left for him in his homeland, he takes his father’s bag of portal rings and steps through. He is taken in by the Wachowskis first. Four-year-old Sonic meanwhile grows up alone, travels the galaxy and initially appears as an antagonist.

Right now I can think of two main plot divergences beyond that. Firstly, complicated but interesting: Knuckles doesn’t stay hidden, as he’s trying to find the Master Emerald and also with his code can’t resist rushing in to help when sees Tom in need, so he gets unofficially adopted practically right off the bat. He then grows up the best kept secret of Green Hills. His parents adore him, but he’s still kinda an outcast from the rest of human society, because he’s just so different and potentially dangerous - he struggles to take the necessary care with his strength and suffers from the same loss of control of his Chaos energy when deeply upset that canon Sonic used to. The townspeople see that he’s a good kid and they can’t speak ill of their upstanding sheriff and vet, but they don’t exactly trust Knuckles either. Not feeling like he’ll ever fully belong, afraid of causing more damage and not having processed his grief for his birth father and people and everything he knew before nearly enough, he develops strong tendencies to isolate himself and bottle things up in shame. And, oh yes, he still hasn’t completed his mission to retrieve and protect the incredibly powerful most sacred object to his lost culture. He fears that at this rate he never will. He feels very guilty about all of this.

Repairing his strained relationships with Tom and Maddie is a key part of his arc in the first movie, alongside learning to accept, forgive, trust and be kinder to himself. He ultimately decides that the Master Emerald is evidently safe enough for now and his mission can wait until he’s older and wiser. His current focus shall instead be being a normal teenager who Has Fun and Likes Himself.

Secondly, Sonic’s antivillain personality would not be a dutiful, honourable warrior genuinely believing he’s in the right. No. How does his literal theme song go again? “Long as the voice inside drives me to run and fight/It doesn’t matter who is wrong and who is right”. This Sonic, pre-second movie, is a cynical, untethered pragmatist who cares only about his own survival, benefit and freedom; a notorious thief and swindler sly and swift enough to get away with anything. They call him the Blue Devil. Where Knuckles had an excessive sense of responsibility, Sonic has all but suppressed his. The only person who mattered was Longclaw and she’s gone. What’s the point of getting attached to other people? They’ll all leave too. But that won’t need to hurt him - he won’t hurt them - if he follows his mother’s advice and never stops running. Yes, deep down he blames himself for Longclaw’s death. He has better social skills than Knuckles, but not his principles. Is Robotnik mean and shady? Absolutely. Is that Sonic’s problem, when he’s confident that he can either stay on the doctor’s good side or outrun his bad one? Nope! Getting to kick an echidna in the nuts with super speed is a nice bonus.

But beneath that arrogant, apathetic facade he does have a conscience. His character development starts with it slowly dawning on him how much worse than him Robotnik and big of a deal the Master Emerald are and he begins to take the stakes seriously. If Robotnik wins, innocent people will die. This entire (admittedly very beautiful) planet could be in danger. None of his crimes have risked going this far before. Does he really want to be an accessory to the rise of an actual tyrant and supervillain who wants to murder a teenager? So he begins to hesitate about aiding Robotnik. Next Knuckles notices that they’re about the same age and empathizes with him, knowing from the previous film what it’s like to be a traumatized, terrified, self-loathing fifteen-year-old in over your head; that they lost everything on the same day just draws more attention to their similarities. Tails curtails that conversation, but it remains the first taste of empathy and connection Sonic’s had since he was four. That’s pretty enticing. He saves Knuckles’s life to not be in his debt (ostensibly at least), and the rest is history.

Knuckles’s arc in the second movie is learning what it really means to be a hero and leader, after idealizing the concepts - and his parents, who are his heroes - his whole life. He’s internalized that he’s a kid and is allowed to make mistakes, but can’t reconcile that with now being responsible for an innocent and younger friend, Tails, and having to complete his Heroic Quest for the Chaos Emerald much sooner than anticipated. Surely a Hero has to be perfect and a leader has always know what to do. His birth father seemed that way, after all. When his moment comes, he can’t afford to fail. Learning that his beloved dad, and generally the echidnas, were responsible for Longclaw’s death and Sonic’s trauma shatters that idea. He eventually resolves that he can be a hero and his imperfect self simultaneously and his team are his equals and able to cover his weaknesses.

Also, Knuckles still speaks the same while Sonic absorbs modern slang and speech patterns like a sponge. This is crucial. When Knuckles calls his parents Mum and Dad at the end of the first movie instead of Mother and Father, it’s a huge affirmation of intimacy.

Now I just need a name for this AU. Any ideas?

[rek1s-headband]

Break up prank on the sk8 boys

➯ Characters: Reki Kyan, Langa Hasegawa, Cherry, Joe, Miya and Shadow x gn reader

➯ Warnings: none, just some angst to fluff. Enjoy!

Reki:

He thought it was a joke at first

Like you, he watched his fair share of videos, and had seen the trend going around already

But you weren’t discouraged, you were going to try and make him believe it no matter what

He laughed it off the first time, but after you simply gave him a puzzled look and a “huh?”, he felt his heart pick up significantly. Maybe you weren’t joking??

Instantly he was running back in his mind where he could’ve possibly gone wrong, where he could’ve messed up so badly that you felt the need to leave?

After his nervous laugh died down, he went deadly silent

“You’re serious?”

You were starting to feel awful, like maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, but you decided to persist

When you nodded your head slowly, you could’ve died when you saw how quickly his face dropped

Even though he had a small smile on his face, you could see the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. He was running a shaky hand through his hair, and when you were ready to take him into your arms, to tell him you were only kidding, he wouldn’t let you get a word in edgeways

A flood of questions was suddenly leaving his moth, all his unvoiced questions coming out in one go. He was holding your hand now in an almost death grip, asking you why you were unhappy, why you wanted to leave

Why he wasn’t good enough for you

That’s all you needed before you were pulling him into your arms, sobbing yourself. This shut him up, he was completely speechless as your tears pooled on his shoulder, telling him you were so sorry, that you were only joking. You just wanted to see him get a little panicky, you never expected the outcome to look like this

As soon as the words left your mouth you saw his shoulders visibly drop, pulling you impossibly closer as he let the last of his tears out. He chuckled shakily, running a hand up your back.

“I thought I lost you for a second there”

That was when you pulled your head out of his shoulder, grabbing his face between your hands and pulling him closer to you. Eyes wide, he simply watched as you declared he could never lose you, that you weren’t going anywhere. You were stuck to him like glue, whether he likes it or not

He gave you one last relieved smile, before he was pulling you close again for a desperate kiss. He kissed you like it was the last time he ever would, because now that he’d thought he lost you, he was never going to take anything about you for granted again

Langa:

Was fully convinced you were serious right off the bat

Right as the words “I think we should break up” were leaving your lips, his brain was doing overtime trying to figure put how he hadn’t realised how unhappy you were. Sure, he was kind of bad at reading emotions, but surely he wasn’t so terrible he couldn’t figure out how his own s/o was feeling?

Was he really as bad at communication as people told him he was?

You instantly regretted your decision as you watched his mouth hang open, saw his eyes scrunch slightly as he wrung his hands quietly at his sides

He nodded, and you couldn’t seem to swallow the lump in your throat as your eyes locked on the small tear rolling down his cheek, which he quickly wiped away with a small smile

“If thats what will make you happy”

You couldn’t seem to collect your thoughts as you watched him step closer to you, dropping his head to your level as he grabbed your hand. It was soft, as if he didn’t want to hurt you any more than he thought he had. He stumbled over his words, trying to find the right ones to say. Eventually he just took a deep breath, and looked into your eyes

“Were you really that unhappy?” Your heart broke when you heard the crack in his voice towards the end. “How did I not notice how sad you were?” Tears were falling down his face again and he didn’t even bother wiping them away this time. Suddenly you were shooting forward, grabbing his shoulders as you began to cry

“You’ve never made me unhappy Langa, not once.” You saw his wide eyes stare at you, not even attempting to reply as he watched you continue. “It was a joke, Langa. I wanted to see how you’d react, I didn’t think you’d take it this seriously. Did you really think you made me unhappy? Ive never been happier than when I’m with you-“ you barely got to finish before he was wrapping you in his arms, his grip vicelike. His face was digging into your shoulder, clinging to you as if you’d disappear any second.

His breath was ragged and shaky as he pulled you even closer, making sure there was absolutely no room for you to escape. You ran your hand through his hair in an attempt to calm him down as he slowly emerged from your shoulder

With a small chuckle, he rubbed the side of your face with his hand, letting his head drop slightly as he let out a sigh of relief

“I really thought I was ignoring my own s/o’s feelings.” You laughed, pulling him into another hug

“If I’m ever upset, I’ll let you know. Just know it wont be for quite a while” you grinned, grabbing his collar to pull him into a kiss. It was sweet, and gentle, and you felt all your previous problems melt away as Langa pulled you closer, smiling into the kiss

Cherry:

You and Kaoru rarely fought, and when you did it was over minor things that were reconciled within a day. So when you were sitting him down, asking if he’d be okay with breaking up, the only thing he could feel was complete confusion.

What happened? You’d always been so happy, never expressing much discontent. And besides, whenever you did it was resolved as soon as possible. What was so different today?

What was making you so unhappy that you felt the relationship was beyond saving?

Or worse, what outside your relationship was making you happier than him?

He kept these thoughts to himself, coughing quietly to try and open up his throat that seemed to be impossibly tight at that moment. He held your hand, stroking it softly and nodding before looking up at you

“Why the sudden change of heart, hm?”

The small smile on Kaoru’s face that was slowly diminishing by the second made you want to melt into the ground. Even when you were asking him to leave, he was still so caring, still so loving. You could only watch, feeling your heart break as he looked at you, his eyes glassy as he quickly plastered the fakest smile you’ve ever seen onto his face

“Well, if you’re unhappy when you’re with me, surely we shouldn’t be together.” He let out a small, breathy laugh that was almost missed by you, if you hadn’t been watching him with such avid horror. “I dont know why you feel you aren’t happy anymore, sweetheart, but I’m glad you realised what you want.” You watched him stand without a word, as you slowly realised that this is real.

He thinks this is real

That was all you needed before you were leaping off the couch, practically turning it over with the force you’d pushed off it. You were shouting his name, grabbing him by the arm and absolutely dragging him to face you. With the sudden turn and shock, you both ended up on the floor as you began to babble, words pouring out of your mouth and tears streaming from your eyes

“Kaoru, of course I’m not unhappy, you always know just how to make me happy, I could never leave you!” You were jumping on top of him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he sat up, a hand on your back and the other pulling your hair back from your face, trying to find any trace of a lie on your face

“Are you serous? It was all...” he was speechless. He didn’t realise you would even pull something like that, much less go so far with it

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” you sobbed. “I never meant for it to go this far. I just wanted to see you get a little worked up, pull a funny prank, nothing else, i prom-“ you were cut off when Kaoru pushed his lips onto yours, breath shaky as he ran his hand through your hair, as if you were going to disappear any second and he was making sure you were still there

When you finally pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours, letting out a small laugh

“Don’t ever pull that shit again”

Joe:

When you first brought it up with him, he felt his heart drop into his stomach. Surely you weren’t serious, right?

He kept a smile quirked on his lips, a questioning look in his eyes. Still, you kept a face of steel, as if challenging him to ask if you were joking

As worried as he was, he wasn’t sure you were being serious. Something about it wasn’t..genuine? You looked too straight-faced, your expression staying neutral the whole time as if to not give something away. He was certain he hadn’t done enough to make you this delighted about breaking up, so why were you so unaffected?

The cogs were turning in his brain, all arrows pointing towards one of two directions: either he was a massive dick, or it was a prank

Oh. A prank

Of course, he wasn’t certain, but it would certainly explain quite a bit

So he decided on a plan. It wasn’t exactly the nicest thing to do, but if it was a prank, it was a nice way for him to get you back for the little skit you pulled. And if it wasn’t a prank, well, maybe it’ll take the sting away a little

His mouth quickly dropped to a frown, ready to put his plan into action. “Oh yeah? Well, thats a bit of a relief.” He had to try hard to hide his grin when he saw your eyebrows furrow, saw the frown begin to spread across your face. So maybe it was a prank. You could only watch as he continued his speech

“You see, I’ve been thinking about ending things for a while now. There was a girl at S I met a few weeks back, and man, you should’ve seen the eyes she’s been giving me. Anyways, I’ve taken a real liking to her, and Ive been thinking about giving things with her a shot. Of course, now it shouldn’t be a bother, right?”

When he saw your face contort from confusion to anger, he knew he’d fucked up severely. Suddenly you were getting up close to his face, prank forgotten, poking him in the chest as you began to shout

“Are you serious!? After all we’ve been through together, you’re just gonna leave me for some bitch you met a few weeks ago??” You were fuming at this point, while Joe watched you with with a look of mock confusion

“What’s your problem? You were the one who wanted to “break up”, right?” Something about the way he said ‘break up’ made you freeze, looking up at him as you watched a grin begin to form on Joe’s face. That bastard

“You...you asshole!” You were lost for words. He knew this whole time? And instead of enlightening you, he decided to play along? You watched with a blank expression as Joe laughed, pulling you into a hug

“I knew it” he let out a loud laugh, but it almost seemed forced. You pulled away, and when you tried to look at him his eyes seemed to be everywhere but you. You grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at you

“You didn’t think id actually want to break up, did you?” When he simply frowned, pulling his eyes away again you cooed, pulling him into your chest as you stroked his hair, feeling his arms slowly wrap around your waist and hold you close

It’s safe to say the two of you stayed like that for quite a while

Shadow:

When you asked him to break up as a joke, you simply wanted to see if you could piss him off. Hiromi was prone to getting mad at the smallest things, cursing up a storm when he did something as small as mess up his makeup

So when you saw his face break, felt him shrink in on himself as he asked you why, what had he done that made you want to leave, your face was frozen with shock

Now this was completely new. Of course, you knew Hiromi wasn’t just some big angry man, but you didn’t think he’d get this worked up

Brows furrowed, he brought a hand to his forehead as he let out a long breath

“What happened?” Those two words held so much emotion it almost made you break. You didn’t realise how much this would affect him, just how upset it would make him. But here he was, an emotional wreck as he wiped an almost-tear away from the edge of his eye

But soon after, he was stepping close to you, grabbing your hand and looking at you with all the sincerity in the world

“Please, give me another chance. I dont know what I did, but I do know we can fix it. I know we can, please y/n. I cant lose you”

His heartfelt speech was all you needed for the tears to slowly fall from your eyes, Hiromi looking at you with a look of concern, and confusion. You were stepping into his arms, crying silently as he hesitantly put his arms around you, not quite sure what to do. So was that a yes?

You picked your head off his shoulder, not moving from his arms

“Oh, Hiromi” he looked down at you, concern washing over his face once more. “It was only a prank, I’m so sorry.”

Now he wasn’t just upset, but relieved. A bit of anger was in there somewhere, but that could be overlooked for now. He let out a loud laugh, hugging you so tightly you could’ve sworn you felt at least 3 of your ribs break

“And what made you think that was a funny thing to do?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, not letting you out of his death grip. You simply shrugged, burying yourself deeper into his chest. He smiled, his knees practically buckling after the whole ordeal

He held you at arms length, a frown on his face. You felt a twinge of panic, maybe he wouldn’t forgive you?

This thought was quickly forgotten when he barked out a loud laugh. He dropped his face to your level, putting his hands on your shoulders

“Pull something like that again, and I swear you’ll give me a heart attack”

Miya:

Miya has never been one for properly expressing his emotions, so when you walked up to him one day and asked him to break up, he simply frowned. He didn’t let it on, but his world was very quickly caving in around him

Keeping a neutral expression, he sighed and nodded his head. He didn’t trust himself to speak right now

When you gave him a confused look from his lack of a verbal response, he really had to try to not walk out of that room there and then. You break up with him, and then expect him to just take it and walk away with a smile??

When you continued to look at him expectantly, he just let out a breath, turning away from you. “Fine. Whatever. If thats really what you want then so be it” he was kicking himself for being so blunt, but what other choice did he have? He couldn’t think, his lungs felt too small, too cramped

And now you were going to leave just like everyone else had

You tried to put your hand on his shoulder, calling his name quietly. He simply shrugged you off, dipping his head so you wouldn’t see the tears that were quickly collecting in his eyes. You’d just dumped him, the last thing he needed was you seeing him cry. You didn’t give up, asking him why he wouldn’t just look at you. Still not facing you, he attempted to talk again

“What more is there to discuss? You want to leave, so go. I’m not going to stop you if its what you want.” The crack in his voice at the end of his sentence broke your heart, and you were quickly turning him around, with more force this time, so he was forced to look you in the eyes

“Do you really think I’d leave that easily? It was a prank, you dumbass.” His head was buzzing with thoughts, why the hell would you do that? So you dont actually want to leave? You’re still gonna stay with him? You-

His thoughts were interrupted by you flicking his forehead. His hands flew to his head, letting out a cry. First you pretend to dump him, and now you have the audacity to flick him?

However, it did serve its purpose of pulling him out of his thoughts, and you were quickly pulling him into a hug while you stroked his hair. Before long you felt your shoulder grow wet with tears, the occasional sniffle leaving him. You laughed, holding him close as you tilted his chin to look at you

“I’m not going anywhere, as much as you might like me to. You’re stuck with me for a while longer, Miya Chinen.” He looked away from you, clicking his teeth

“Shut up..” he was mumbling, but there was so mistaking how hard he was gripping your clothes, as if you might try to leave again. But like you said, you weren’t going anywhere for quite some time

[oddaodd]

Hesitation

· Tommy Shelby is hesitant to be happy about his wife being pregnant · 

Warnings: a bit of angst, pregnancy, thoughts of abortion. 

The feeling of nausea right after waking up did little to soothe y/n’s inkling. She had been feeling nauseous every morning for a week or so and what at first she decided not to acknowledge became a bit too suspicious for her to keep ignoring. So she followed her instincts and after inquiring with Pol over tea, her suspicions were confirmed. She was pregnant. It didn’t come much of as a surprise because she sort of already knew, but she just had to be sure. So, with news in hand she decided to pay Tommy a visit. 

She wasn’t quite sure of how he’d react. They had been friends since they could remember, they had been married for a while and even despite having all the time in the world, they had never talked about having children. He had never said he wanted another child, but he had also never said he didn’t want another child and as for y/n, she had never thought of becoming a mother but now that she was going to be one, she couldn’t be happier. Her mind filled up with ideas of their future baby, how would she name them, what kind of person they would grow up to be and what would they look like. Being caught in her daydream, the ride from Polly’s house to the Shelby Company building  went almost unnoticed and she found herself walking into his office without even knocking after greeting everyone she saw rather gaily. 

He was sitting behind his desk, with a cigarette hanging from his lips (as per usual), eyes frowning behind his glasses at some seemingly important paperwork. The sound of his office door opening made him roll his eyes  as he looked up ready to remind whomever it was to knock before entering only for his whole persona to soften when he saw it was her.  

“Although I love your surprise visits, You have picked the wrong time to make one” He said taking off his glasses and shifting his focus from the pile of papers laying on his desk, to her. 

She couldn’t contain her excitement as she sat down on the chair opposite of him and said “I assumed so, but I have something very important to tell you” 

He smiled at her antics putting out his cigarette  “oh yeah?” 

  “I’m pregnant” she smiled expecting a positive reaction but what came next was everything but. 

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and his lips parted a little. Something along the lines of dread and re flashed across his face. For a brief moment all words escaped his mind and when they came back all he could say was “Are you sure?” 

His question caught her off guard and she didn’t know how to process it, sure it wasn’t positively terrible but his tone told her he wasn’t happy at all. His face returned to his serious nature as he waited for her response, which made her reconsider every thought she daydreamed of in the way there. 

“Well, Pol is never wrong” she said hesitantly, Looking down at her hands. All the confidence and joy with which she came into the room having been dissipated and replaced with uncertainty and doubt. 

Tommy sighed “Yeah, she never is” 

He grabbed a cigarette from his cigarette holder and rubbed it against his lips a few times before lighting it and continuing “it’s getting late, we should head home”

It wasn’t late at all. Tommy always arrived home much later than it was then, but she felt unable to speak and question him so she just got up and exited the building with Tommy following closely behind her, some of the papers he had been previously working on safely tucked in his arm.  

A deadly silence befell the ride to Arrow house. Both y/n and Tommy deep in thought. He felt guilty for his reaction, specially when he saw her deflate so at his words, but he was also terrified. In his own eyes, he was a terrible father and as much as he hated the sound of it, having another child meant having another weakness, he was already terrified of loosing Charlie and y/n and now, he would be terrified to loose his unborn child. Unbeknownst to him, Y/n´s thoughts loosely resembled his. She too felt Guilty and terrified and after giving it more thought she felt awfully selfish . She knew they lived a dangerous life and wondered if it was the kind of life she wanted to bring a child into even if the bare idea of being a mother made her insides gleam, she wondered if it would be best to never let it become acquainted with the world. 

When they arrived home. She held on to a tiny glimpse of hope that he maybe would have wanted to talk and clear things out, but all he did was lock himself in his office. Deciding not to push things further she made her way upstairs stopping in front of Charlie’s room to see him safely sleeping in his bed. A smile made its way to her face and then she decided she would keep her baby. All those daydreams she had earlier in the day of coming back to her as she murmured good night to Charlie. She silently closed the door and walked to her and Tommy’s room. She couldn’t help it but cry herself to sleep that night overwhelmed by the events of the day. 

She woke up alone, Tommy had already left and with a feeling of determination and sadness she faced the day. Pol payed her a visit and y/n told her everything. She advised her on what to do and what not to do as a pregnant woman and before leaving she told y/n that Tom would eventually come to his senses. Y/n felt much better after taking to Pol, she always did, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t picture Tommy coming around. 

5 months had passed and  her belly had started to grow and with it, the love for her unborn child. Even Charlie was exited about having a sibling, but Tommy was still reluctant. In fact, she seldom saw him. He always came home when she was already sleep and he always left before she woke up. She started to miss him as dreadful thoughts clouded her mind. Would he leave her? Had his love for her ceased? The prospect seemed unlikely, but unlikely as it was, it started to keep her awake some nights. 

One of those nights she was laying in bed, trying to fight her thoughts into sleep as he slowly and silently opened the door, concentration evident on his face trying not to make a sound, hoping to find her asleep only to be surprised to find her staring at him. 

“Thought you’d be asleep” he said, the concentration in his face disappearing as he steeped inside the room much less carefully and got rid of his clothes not looking at her anymore.

“My mind is plagued by thoughts” she said as she looked at him as he undressed. Not really paying much attention to her actions or the words that had just left her mouth, thinking that she hadn’t actually said them.  

He turned to look at her and then she realized she had actually said them. She could tell he hadn’t  expected her to speak at all, hell, she didn’t expect herself to speak at all. He just nodded and hummed before getting into his side of the bed looking at the ceiling. 

She kept looking at him not caring if he noticed, it had been so long since he had laid next to her and she felt a bit nostalgic to see him there, almost as a vision of days long gone . He did notice and titled his head ever so slightly to look at her. She hesitatingly scooted closer to him laying her head on his chest refusing to look at him in the eye. When he didn’t attempt to push her away, she felt instantly relieved, as if that was a reminder that he still cared for her. He sighed, in relief as well. Silence reigned for a bit longer until y/n´s words broke it. 

“I’ve missed you” she silently confessed, tracing some of the freckles scattered across his chest. How she adored his freckles.

“I know,” he said bringing his hand to caress her cheek making her look up at his eyes. “I’ve missed you too” 

Her eyes welled up a little as he continued “I’m sorry. For everything” 

She just stared at his eyes unable to speak, she felt like she needed to find the perfect words to describe everything she was feeling and she felt those words didn’t even exist. Her silence prompted Tommy to continue speaking 

“I’m not a good man nor a good father. Charlie got kidnapped once, Grace died because of me. I’m terrified and I don’t want anything happening to you or to this baby or to Charlie ever again” 

She sighed with a mixture of bittersweet emotion. “ You can’t control everything” she said bringing her hand to his face “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, then maybe you would realize you are a good man” she said with a sad smile. “I love you, Charlie does too and im sure this child will do just as much” .

She took his hand in hers and placed it on her slightly swollen belly, the feeling of it caused a small smile to appear across Tommys face. Y/n smiled at the sight, she had missed his smile more than she knew she had. They both stared into each others eyes “Promise me you’ll be here still when I wake up” she pleaded.  

He intently looked into her eyes before kissing her with months worth of pent up emotion. “I promise”

[kingsuckjin]

Jimin's Body- Teaser

⫸ possessed Jimin x reader

⫸  Genre: horror, (Jennifer's body au)

⫸  Rating: M (18+ for eventual smut and very dark themes)

⫸  Warnings: (for this teaser only) demonic possession, blood, low self worth, mention of being a loner, question of a heart attack, embarrassing childhood story, Jimin might be being teased, hmmm Tae's house is haunted maybe?

⫸ About: This wasn't the party Jimin thought it would be. After the party you knew Jimin wasn't the person you thought he once was either... that is, if he’s a person at all anymore.

⫸  Words:1.8k

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

"Taehyung, stop fucking with everyone." You scolded as Jimin stared wide-eyed at the ceiling at the light that had just flickered out.

He had to look tough with you sitting in the circle right across from him on the brown, shag-carpeted floor of this basement that looked like it and its living room-like furniture hadn’t been touched or updated since the 70’s.

It was supposed to be a party, and there indeed was one upstairs blasting music but muffled by the floor above.

You were all supposed to be playing a childish and tipsy game of spin the bottle in the basement.

Jimin was supposed to kiss you. He had only come here because he wanted to spend time with you because you invited him, but so far nothing was going as planned.

"He's not fucking with anyone his house is haunted." Jungkook chuckled while Taehyung gave you a boxy grin. 

Jimin couldn't tell if they were lying or not, he didn't really know anyone here but you and Seokjin, who had already passed out on the basement couch across the room, oblivious to everything happening.

Jimin also thought maybe they were all playing a joke on him, he hadn't said a word to anyone but you and Jin since he had got here.

"He's not lying, I saw a ghost once when I stayed over. I don't even believe in ghosts." The rather stoic guy named Yoongi spoke with his arms crossed.

"Tell them the story Tae." Jungkook urged.

Taehyung's eyes flitted around the circle to each person's face, possibly pausing to add anticipation.

"A woman died in this house." 

"So what? People die everywhere, it doesn't mean a place is haunted." You spoke up, already seeming like you didn’t believe him right from the start.

"She was murdered," Taehyung added.

"Sure." You scoffed as you rolled your eyes.

"She was. Right here in the basement. She ran from the killer and hid in the basement and locked herself in the bathroom. She was supposedly very beautiful and vain. Sometimes if you look in the mirror and tell yourself how nice you look, she'll get jealous and appear, maybe she'll even steal your soul if you're pretty enough." 

Although Jimin had been a little scared at first. He couldn't help but stifle a laugh and a smile at how cliché Taehyung's ghost story sounded and suddenly all eyes in the circle were on him.

"What? You don't believe me?" Taehyung raised his eyebrows at Jimin.

"No one does, Tae. Even if the house is haunted you're obviously dramatizing it." You scoffed.

"I believe it," Yoongi muttered.

"Go in there and do it Jimin." Jungkook urged pointing to a darkened doorway in the basement.

"Oh Jimin, you made her mad." Taehyung teased as he watched the light above begin to flicker back to life just before dying again.

Jimin could feel the "are you serious?" look on his face that he was now giving Jungkook. He didn't know any of these people but you, and you were the one he was afraid of looking like a coward in front of. He cursed at himself in his head for laughing at Taehyung's bad ghost story. He should've just stayed quiet like he always did.

"Go on." Jungkook urged again, ignoring Jimin's surprised look.

"Guys don't. This isn't how you treat new friends. Can we please go back to-" 

"Too scared?" Yoongi now asked Jimin.

"No." He answered more confidently than he felt. Should he be scared? Probably not. Taehyung's story was shit and everyone in the room knew it. They were obviously just picking on him because he was a new friend and shy, right? Jimin didn't really have many friends until he started working at the restaurant with you and Seokjin, he was always just too shy and quiet for friends to really stick. But what if he simply just wasn't this time? What if he became the outgoing popular Jimin he always wanted to be and started over with these new friends. What if he pretended to be everything he wasn't? That’s why he came tonight, he thought if maybe he was all of those things finally, maybe you’d want him. He wasn’t about to mess up the charade he was doing okay at putting on now. 

Jimin stood from his place in the circle of new friends on the floor, trying to stop his nervous legs from shaking.

"So what do I do?" He was wanting to prove them wrong, show them that he wasn't scared and this was all bullshit, even though he knew in the back of his mind that this was how every horror movie and story started.

"Jimin you don't have t-" you were interrupted by a smirking Taehyung. Jimin wondered how he could be so chill about this if it was real.

"Go in the bathroom, don't turn on the lights, look in the mirror, and tell yourself you're pretty and genuinely mean it."

"Oh, so you can all hear me and laugh at me?" Jimin saw a new ploy to their jokes.

"No ones going to laugh at you." Taehyung was serious as he looked Jimin in the eye.

"You've got more balls than I do, new guy." Jimin heard Yoongi say as he looked towards the dark basement bathroom. Something about their suddenly serious tones of voices and the way they were looking at one another now made the fear and nervousness in Jimin’s stomach rise once again. 

"I swear if you're tricking him or you plan on actually making fun of him I swear I won't be your guy's friend anymore, I mean it." Your tone was deadly serious at the group and that gave Jimin some reassurance.

"It's not a joke," Taehyung replied in a way that took away any shred of confidence Jimin had left. What was worse, his new friends playing a prank on him and wanting to embarrass him or something actually happening? Jimin felt fucked either way but still made his legs carry him to the bathroom as he tried to shake off the unsettling feeling Taehyung’s story had left him with.

He wondered if they would stop him and tell him they were just kidding, but as he closed the door and the complete darkness took over the room, he lost any hope of that happening.

The bathroom smelled musty unlike the livable rest of the basement. Although it was a full bathroom with a sink, tub, and toilet, the walls were unfinished. It just felt like someone had given up on the room long ago. 

Jimin placed his hands on each side of the cool, white porcelain sink and looked at himself thoroughly in the mirror in front of him. How was he supposed to tell himself he was good looking and mean it? Jimin felt like he was a timid, friendless, freak. Even this incident reminded him of a sleepover he had in first grade where he got scared and peed his pants and all the boys laughed at him. He knew you'd never want him, not when he was too shy to finally make a move, not when you had all of these cool guy friends.

Jimin placed his hand on his cheek and let his thumb drift over his lips. Have you ever once thought he was handsome? Just once? If you did you wondered what you thought about. Maybe you liked his lips and thought about how good they would feel pressed to yours… or even other places on your body.

Maybe you liked his hair and thought about how nice it would feel to run your hands through it. Perhaps his body? As a dancer, Jimin knew his body was in shape but was it good enough for you to imagine on top of you?

He finally came to the conclusion that maybe he had more in the looks department than most did. That was when he let the words pass his lips.

"I'm attractive." 

The affirmation felt good, he had never once thought to do this before. He continued to look over his features and think about what you might like about him.

"My lips are nice, my hair is nice, my body is nice and I'm so attractive. I'm pretty." 

Jimin began to understand that the others in that room weren't him, they were nothing like him. He had things that they didn't, many things they didn't. Even in the kindness department, Jimin had a leg up, after all, who sends a new friend into a bathroom to scare them? Did they even want to really be friends with him? Probably not. Perhaps they did this out of jealousy. They were probably jealous Jimin was better looking than them, he was a better person than them. They wanted you and couldn't have you, Jimin could.

All Jimin could see in the mirror was darkness all but the beautiful features of his face. He didn't feel the smirk that erupted on it, but he saw it in the mirror and it felt so right.

"I'm the most beautiful here. I am."

Jimin was so lost in himself that he barely noticed the shadow right behind him, reaching out for him with its dark, spindly fingers each tapered to a claw tip.

Jimin did however see the dark liquid begin to drop from his nose, run down his full pips and chin before dripping onto the white porcelain sink in front of him. 

He doubled over with the sudden pain in his chest that hit him faster than a lightning strike. It felt like his heart was being tightened in a vice.

He collapsed completely onto the cold, cracked tiled floor in the dark grunting with a ringing growing overwhelmingly loud in his ears as he waited for the squeezing in his chest to pop his heart like a water balloon.

Could anyone hear him? Surely someone had to. What was happening? He wondered if he was suffering a heart attack. Was he dying?

The pain was so terrible and felt like it was lasting so long that Jimin had tried to dig his fingers into the tile until his knuckles turned white.

Over the piercing ringing, Jimin could hear soft whispers that didn't make sense at first. The whispering of a woman. The longer he listened as his vision began to fade, the more he was able to make sense of the words.

"Let me in. I can make your dreams come true. I can give you everything you want, just let me in Jimin." Whatever it was knew his name, and it knew about you and how much he liked you. it felt like whatever the voice was was burrowing around in his brain looking for something.

Jimin felt weaker and weaker as his struggling against the pain lessened the more he decided to give up.

"Fine." Jimin had struggled to say, but once he did, everything stopped. Everything turned black, even his thoughts of you had melted away into the darkness.

[pluviophile-imagines]

In Your Arms: Shigaraki

In Your Arms: a collection of short fics about cuddling with various characters. Find the masterlist here. This one does double duty as my contribution to another BNHA Sanctuary collab, with fics based around the prompt “[....] is concerned because Y/N isn't sleeping.“ The masterlist for that is here!

You’re being annoying.

Well, that’s not quite accurate. You’re not being annoying, which is annoying. Tomura hadn’t come all the way to your apartment for you to ignore him and focus on studying. He’d come all the way here to ignore you and focus on playing video games, and act irritated by the way you’d slowly drape yourself over him more and more until you’d sit completely in his lap, obscuring his view and forcing him to put down the game in favor of paying attention to you. That’s how it’s supposed to work.

You’re not supposed to be laying sprawled out on your stomach with your textbooks and laptop out in front of you, only just touching him with a single bare foot draped over the back of the bed.

He can’t focus on his game when you’re being so difficult. His character dies again—jumps straight into a pit of lava—and he huffs at the grating death riff that plays over the all too familiar game-over screen. He starts the level again. It’s the sixth time.

When he’d sent you his usual im coming over text, he’d been surprised and slightly offended when you’d responded by telling him you were busy. He hadn’t seen it until he was at your townhouse, though, and your window was open like it always is when you invite him in, so he’d climbed up the trellis and slipped through. You’d greeted him with a tired, distracted murmur and hadn’t addressed him since, aside from pushing yourself down as he took his usual seat at the foot of your bed to nudge his shoulder just barely.

What are you studying for, again? Some big important exam for your hardest class, or so you’d told him. He doesn’t understand why you bother going to university; it’s not as if you’ll be needing a degree when you’re spending the rest of your life at his side. He also knows how much it means to you, though, and despite how he personally feels about higher education he doesn’t want you to fail. You’d be devastated. Beyond that, he does want you to succeed in the things you care about.

Tomura’s character dies again. This time he quits, growling and tossing the controller to the side. He doesn’t even bother turning off the console as he whips about where he’s seated to glare at you over the edge of the bed.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s moved. That in itself makes his annoyance surge; he’s glaring harder as you flip over. When you begin to pull your legs back to sit up he surges forward to grab them and prevent you from moving away from him—carefully, always carefully, pinky fingers raised despite the double-digit gloves he wears to prevent any accidents.

“I told you I was busy,” you huff. “Not my fault you came over anyway.”

“You said you wouldn’t mind the company.”

“I don’t mind it, I like spending time with you even when I have to be working on other things.”

“You’ve been working on other things for six days,” he grumbles. Nearly a week. This is his first time seeing you in nearly a week. It’s a miracle he hasn’t died from lack of attention, and you’re lecturing him on giving you space? His reasons for coming over aren’t even that selfish, damn you and your supernatural ability to make him drop everything to make sure you’re okay.

But he’d been able to tell that you weren’t okay even through the phone. You’re exhausted, and it’s even more obvious now that he’s in your room with a good look at your face.

So Tomura doesn’t let you go back to your work. He tightens his grip on your legs instead (still cautious, constantly cautious, with six digits rather than ten, pinkies and ring fingers raised) and doesn’t wait for you to protest before he yanks you off the bed.

Your yelp is cute. Everything about you is cute, of course, but there’s something he particularly likes about the way your voice is laced with surprised laughter as he snatches you bodily from your place on your bed and drags you down into his lap. It’s clumsy despite (or rather because of) how careful he is with his deadly grip, and you end up turned around with your back along his legs and your feet propped up on the end of the bed.

“How much have you slept since we last hung out?”

You pout, clearly aware that he won’t like the answer.

“Brat,” he rasps, “studying is useless if you pass out during the exam.”

“What’re you gonna do about it, then?”

Well, he can’t let you get away with that. You forget he’s an S-rank villain.

He stands suddenly, arms strong around your torso as he lifts you and throws you back onto your bed. Again, you yelp; but you’re long used to his manhandling by now, and you’ve told him how much you like it, so he knows the shriek is mostly for show. You turn around, making to go back to your notes, and though he’s well aware you’re not actually intending to return to your studying he still lunges faster than you to shove all your supplies off the bed.

“Tomura!” you whine—he can hear that you’re half serious now, and six months ago when all this was still new he might have paused to apologize, but instead he just grabs you again to pull you under the covers with him.

It’s sufficiently distracting. All thoughts of your studies have clearly been dashed from your mind as he rolls over to hold you on top of him, chest-to-chest, thick quilt and soft sheets covering the pair of you.

Tomura can’t help himself as he tucks his head in the crook of your neck, burying his face against your soft skin. It’s always a little overwhelming simply being in your room, but your scent surrounds him now, both from the bed he’s holding you hostage in and you yourself.

It’s warm too, pleasantly so; so often Tomura feels chilled to the bone, but that’s rarely the case when you’re around, always sharing your body heat with him in one way or another.

Your arms move to drape over his shoulders. You prop yourself up slightly, staring down at him as he pulls his head back to look up at you. He’s come to know you well enough to recognize that you’re planning something; he tightens his hold on you, preparing for you to make a getaway attempt, not that you stand a chance to get very far against his strength and reflexes.

“You’re not leaving. We’re sleeping.”

You hum in response, an acquiescence (though he doesn’t loosen his grip, less because he’s afraid you’ll leave now and more simply because he likes the feeling of you in his arms). He holds you like that for a time, listening to or perhaps more feeling the soft rhythmic beat of your heart against his chest and your quiet, steady breath.

One of your hands moves, tracing down the side of his face, thumb reaching across to brush over the scar on his eye and then doing the same further downward to its companion on his lip. Then it drops, finding a permanent resting spot on his chest, heavy palm warming him over his heart.

You lean in. His eyes flutter closed, sight going dark so that he can focus on his other senses—the weight of you on him, the smell of your shampoo, the brief little sound you make in the back of your throat that he’s come to learn means you think he’s being cute.

Your lips land on his scarred eye, featherlight and fleeting, a brush of a kiss. Then they’re just below his mouth, an identical kiss on what you affectionately call his beauty mark. Finally, they press to the corner of his mouth, that other scar (he used to be self conscious of it, frankly, but you don’t even have to tell him just how much you like it, he’s figured that out on his own thanks to how much attention you give the little blemish and your minute reactions every time you get the chance to feel it).

You’re sluggish as you pull back. You’re finally feeling the exhaustion, he can tell. He should really let you sleep, that’s why he’s here and forced you into bed with him in the first place, but he follows your lips anyway.

It’s a sweet kiss, slow and languid but not entirely passionless as his hand slides up your spine to find home on the back of your neck. He can feel you melt into him, letting him take the lead and relinquishing any active part in the process to him. Your heat seeps into him. He doesn’t get tired much, but at times like these your own exhaustion affects him, bidding him to follow you into dreamland—not that he’d ever complain about sleeping with you.

When the pair of you separate, you all but fall onto him, finally letting your heavy eyelids close as you bury your face into his marked neck. You mumble something into the skin there, almost too quiet to hear; a slurred out, “G’night.”

Tomura turns his head into you to press a kiss to your temple as he succumbs to your siren call and joins you in slumber, voice impossibly low so you won’t hear (though he knows you will anyway, perceptive as you are). “Sleep well, player two.”

[starlightartemis]

The Lucky Batch☘️

It's a thing. This is just the beginning.

Stickers

Pepper is never short on stickers.

It becomes his thing. He says that as a medic, he can certify that stickers make everything better, so there's always a bunch of them in his medkit, on his bunk, in his pocket.

Nobody knows where exactly he gets them, and honestly? They don't really want to know.

"Yes, that broken bone might need some bacta, but you know what will make it 100% better?" Pepper will say, slapping a sticker of a grumpy frog on on his brothers' armor.

He either gets a smile, an annoyed glare or an object thrown to his face, but it never fails to make at least someone else laugh.

"Pepper, can you please come to the mess," Hazel voice speaks through the comm. "Jackal's on fire again."

The medic is already on his way, sighing tiredly. "Tell Ballast that I warned him not to try any new explosives on Jackal. I'm telling the Captain."

"Noooo," someone whines on the other side of the comm, chaos echoing in the background. "I promise it's just a little fire this time."

"Drop and roll, vod, drop and roll!"

"What do you think I'm doing?!"

The door to the mess slides open, and Pepper calmly walks into a Jackal with an arm on fire, Boots with a now empty glass of water and Ryder recording the whole thing.

"Don't worry guys," he says, approaching the flames. "I got this."

He takes the fire extinguisher clipped on his hip and aims it at the fire, taking it out. Everyone stops screaming.

"See, it wasn't that—" he starts, but as he speaks the armor on his brother's arm sparks again, raging.

There's silence, confusion. Pepper looks at Jackal, reaches for his pocket, and softly places a sticker on his forehead.

"I've done what I could," he says gently, and walks away.

"WAIT—"

"Mmmm," Jackal murmurs, annoyed, his eyes digging holes into the Raffle's helmet.

"What is it?" Boots whispers to his brother, confused, following his gaze.

"It's the new Captain," he says, his glare focused on the captain and only him. "There's something about him… something off but I can't get a hold of what it is…"

"Don't worry, I've got this," Pepper chimes in, popping from behind them with a grin.

Before they can tell him to stop, the medic dashes forward, stickers sharp in his hands, and slaps them onto the bare, new bucket of the recently appointed captain of the 37th.

He's beaming, pleased, as Raffle slowly turns to look at him, and then at the leaf stickers now stuck on either sides of his visor.

"What is this, trooper?" His tone is neutral, and there's a hint of puzzlement meddled in his controlled voice.

"Stickers, sir."

Boots facepalms in the background while Jackal tries to keep his laughing quiet.

Raffle pauses, an eyebrow quirked, and studies the leaves now decorating his armor. For a moment there's silence, and then he looks back at the medic.

"I'll allow it."

"You're welcome, sir."

"Who's this little fellow?" Boots asks, raising an eyebrow at the mechanic and the robot standing in the hallway.

"It's our new member, G00-S," Ballast pats its head, and it warbles angrily, zapping him lighty to get it off. "He's a menace. We call him Goose, the Murder Droid."

Goose chirps and turns presumptuously, his head legs kicking in approval at the nickname.

"Ah, I see Pepper got to him," the clone notices, spotting the bunch of stickers that had been placed randomly over the droid's body.

"Pepper always gets to everyone."

Pepper is standing close to the ship, keeping an eye on the mechanic inside. He doesn't get half of what his brother is muttering over the mess of wires and tools he's tinkering with, but there's a fire extinguisher nearby just in case.

"How's it going, vod?" he asks, tapping gently the medkit in his hands.

Ballast doesn't answer, his tongue sticking out as he makes the final adjustments to the panel.

"Aaaand… almost done!" he announces with a smile, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Come here, Peps, help me out a bit."

Pepper doesn't move, and eyes the ship's ramp suspiciously.

"I'm okay right here," he calls out, and his brother snorts.

"Don't tell me you're scared?"

"Oh, I'm not scared. I just like having two arms attached to my body, thanks."

"Come on, vod," Ballast insists, head popping up from between scraps of metal. "Jackal needs this ship to work for our next mission, and he dared me to make it extra fast."

"Why would you help Jackal have an even faster ship? Are you insane?"

"I'll give you 5 creds."

There's a pause. "Ok, but I'm bringing the extinguisher with me."

"Fair enough."

The medic sends a prayer to the universe and steps inside the ship, holding his breath.

"Hold this," Ballast tells him, handing him some wires. "Don't let them touch."

He picks them up gently and watches as the mechanic finishes working on that. After a few moments, he gives the system a nod of pride and closes it with a satisfying click.

"What do you think?" He gestures at the panels, a grin on his face.

"Mmm, I think you're missing something," Pepper concludes, and before his brother can let out an offended scoff, he slaps a bunny sticker over the console. "There. Perfect."

There's a pause, and the mechanic nods in approval.

"Yes, I think that's—"

Smoke starts coming out of the console, and a bunch of red lights start blinking furiously.

The clones look at each other, and sprint.

The medic is just passing through the barracks when he notices Thumbs sitting on the bunk. He's looking at his helmet with a frown, and once he gets nearer, Pepper sees that the paint is chipped and burnt there where he had carefully sketched the design.

His brother sighs, a thumb brushing over the ruined drawing, and doesn't notice him approaching. Wordlessly, Pepper produces two stickers from his belt, both a cartoon version of thumbs up, and places it over the damage.

Thumbs looks up, searching for words to say, but he gives him a few pats on the head and a smile before walking away.

They're all exhausted, but at least Pepper has stickers.

"Well boys, nice work out there," he says, looking at his brothers.

They're all on the floor, their bodies too stiff and tired to even move their heads towards him. There's a collective groan as the medic walks between them, looking for any serious injuries while sticks star and heart stickers over their chipped armors.

"Peps, please, I can't feel my face," Ryder says exhaustedly.

The medic wordlessly slaps a sticker on his face. "You're welcome."

"Pepper, don't you kriffing dare touch the fangs," Foxy warns, his eyes closed as he feels him approach. "It took me 3 hours to get them right, and it took one more for it to dry without being set on fire."

"What about fang stickers?" The medic asks with a grin.

Foxy doesn't move, but his lips tug upwards as he lifts his aching arm up for his twin to place them on his forearm. "I love you, vod."

"You only love my stickers, you di'kut."

It was a terrible battle.

The field is a broken mirror, with cracks and bodies spread as far as the eye can see. Pepper walks among the wounded, bacta patches and bandages clutched tight on his hands as he tends to their injuries, lips pressed together under his helmet.

There's so much blood. So much quiet.

It almost makes him sick, the way a place which was filled with screaming and explosions can now be so deadly silent.

He nods at the trooper with the head injury and moves on to the next, who lays in impossible quiet half a feet ahead. The medic kneels beside him, refusing to acknowledge the stillness of his chest, the ease of his features. He looks like he's finally resting as he checks his vitals, heart heavy, and closes his eyes.

A brother dies, and Pepper isn't short on stickers.

For you guys @maygaladon @letsunity @oo-hazel-oo @radbatch @lavenderstaars @foxlock @monako-jinn-stories @lusiawonder @lynnpaper

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Trois:

Chapter One. 

The leading lady will be introduced eventually but I feel like with the way this is written I need to focus on Adonis and Erik first. 

Warnings: AU!Erik, AU!Adonis, smut, bisexual, mentions of blood, threesome.

The 2019 Comic Con at the Los Angeles Convention Center was populous to say the least. Adonis Johnson felt like he was elbow-to-elbow with the animated and roused crowd of event goers. Everyone is grouped like teenagers in those cheesy high school flicks. You have your Nerds—never worried about being challenged to prove their knowledge about the gaming character or superhero on the shirt they're wearing, yelling out quotes in a spirit of shared fandom. Then, you have your cos players—rehearsed smiles on their faces whenever they are stopped to have their picture taken, sort of deteriorating and looking less magnificent as the day goes on due to wig issues, broken weapons, or itchy and hot costumes. Then, there are those individuals like Adonis who endure the hectic universe. 

Adonis is wearing a faded orange muscle tee with a mixture of his favorite anime characters such as Saitama, Goku, Sasuke, L, Yusuke Urameshi, and Spike Spiegel. He styled the tee with a pair of Nike Dri-FIT Basketball shorts in black, black Jordan socks, and a pair of orange and black Air Jordan 1’s on his feet. He couldn’t forget his layered silver chains and finger rings to make it more stylish, or his charcoal black Coach backpack to carry his essentials like the sun screen he needed and some water from standing in that long ass line in the blazing afternoon sun. The cast of Zombieland: Double Tap will be there, and over 800 exhibitors. Adonis didn’t even know where to start or end and at first he figured the map in his hand that he grabbed at the entrance was a great idea but he tossed it in the closest receptacle. 

Adonis scratched at the steri-strip on the corner of his pouty bottom lip since the regular stitches were removed by his doctor almost 48 hours ago. Adonis earned that busted lip from a fight he triumphed in. He didn’t get that wound from the type of fights you see on paper view—he’s an Underground Boxer who participates in Street fighting. Yes, Adonis fights in ‘unlicensed’ matches. This means it operates outside the governing bodies of the sport and is susceptible to rules being broken and fights being fixed. It is illegal in many countries because it is dangerous and disruptive to daily life—running the possibility of being charged with several crimes especially. It’s Adonis’ personal fight club, a badge of honor for him. 

Adonis was introduced to the idea of a fight club by a childhood buddy of his that died five years ago. His name was Clark Wilson. Adonis and Clark used to be in Juvie together—two angry kids who used their fists because of the violence and hatred surrounding them. When Adonis’ father, famous Boxer named Apollo Creed’s wife Mary Anne came looking for Adonis while he was in Juvie, she took him in as her own son and started him out in therapy and anger management groups. For the most part, Adonis felt as if his anger was suppressed but he missed the way fighting made him feel——alive. First, Adonis had to understand the reasoning of a Fight Club. Fight Club is about releasing his anger and stress; about fighting his problems; about going against normalcy and the safe little bubble he has become accustomed to living in. 

Rules were put in place and Adonis found a private property hidden from the public eye so that the authorities can’t interfere. Adonis uses a basement of a record shop for his Fight Club location. If someone would die in Fight Club, there isn’t anything anyone could do. There has only been one case where someone died in Adonis’ Fight Club and he swore to make sure it didn’t become deadly. Brutal, yes, but no murder. Pinching the steri-strip on his lip to keep it in place, Adonis visits an exhibitor—Comic Madness. Pulling out his iPhone so he could use his Apple Pay, Adonis sifts through the comic books to find the ones he wanted. The price tag on them was a bit much but this was a once a year weekend event so he could break the bank. 

Entrepreneur of a fitness company called Elite Body Edge, Erik Stevens strolls through Comic Con after checking out the Hellboy cast members doing a Q&A. Stylish per usual, dangling gold cross earring in his right ear, yellow and black camouflage cargos on, all-white creaseless Nike Air Force 1s, and a lax graphic tee with The Lost Boys on it, Erik pans his Canon PowerShot G7X Mark lll Camera around him, Vlogging his Comic Con experience for his YouTuber’s. When he’s not recording fitness and nutrition videos, Erik is vlogging about his daily life or giving advice to the anonymous subscribers who send him emails. He wanted to edit the video to look like a VHS video for a different aesthetic. Erik strolls past a group of cos players dressed as The Avengers and stops to record them, smiling at the enthusiasm and flashing his gold canines. 

Erik sips from his souvenir cup, the straw making an annoying suctioning noise since it was nearly empty. Shaking the cup, ice chips clanking around, Erik stops to get some more footage. Just when he was about to end his vlogging, there was a rather sexy, good-looking dude with chestnut eyes, amber skin so smooth and velvety looking. The muscle tee he was sporting didn’t leave anything to the imagination. Clearly, he’s lean, and chiseled. Erik haltingly lowers his camera, his inky black eyes trailing over this mystery guys frame with enthrallment. Just when Erik thought he would be coming to Comic Con for some fanboy fun, he spotted a distraction with a nice ass. Erik is a bi-sexual man. Friends jokingly called Erik a hoe that got off on pussy or dick—a reckless hoe that played with fire. Married couples, closet homosexuals, threesomes with women, anything that caused mayhem and wreckage with relationships. Anything to get his thick dick wet. 

Erik’s Adam’s Apple bobbed in his neck and his lips parted. When the mystery guy turned around Erik grunted deeply. Lips so thick and plump. Oooh. His breath became ragged and he felt himself swelling. Why did this have to happen to him right now? Donnie must have felt Erik’s hard eyes burning into the back of his skull because he looked back over his shoulder at him with a raised brow and obvious annoyance. The corners of Adonis’ eyes crinkled with suspicion. Erik found it comical, giving Adonis a sly half smirk when their eyes connected. Adonis shook out his shoulders, focusing back on the stacks of comic books in front of him. Why is his heart skipping a beat and his stomach in knots? The back of his neck prickled and he glanced over at Erik again before he cocked his head to the side. The devilish smirk on Erik’s face sparked Adonis’ short temper. 

Thinking back to his anger management tips, Adonis tried to take a timeout by using “I” statements—to stay in control. Think before you speak, don’t make assumptions, calm yourself. As much as he wanted those methods to work, Erik’s smiling, smug face bothered Adonis. Who is this random ass nigga and why the fuck is he smiling like there’s a joke? Adonis started to feel more and more uneasy about Erik staring at him. Does he know about the Fight Club? That seemed to invigorate Adonis’ irritation because he began charging through a group of cos players and walked right up to Erik with his pectoral muscles puffed out and his hands in fists so tight he could feel the aftershocks from his fight almost two days ago. Erik stood his ground with a single brow raised, waiting for Adonis to cause a scene. As soon as Adonis crowded his personal space that was already so little with how many people surrounded them, Erik made it his business to allow his inky black eyes to drop to Adonis’ crotch and back up swiftly. 

“The fuck is your problem staring at me, nigga?” Adonis spoke with a harsh whisper that caused his jaw muscles to clench, “You know me or something?” Adonis paused before he nodded his head slowly, “Let me guess...you wanna fight me?”

“Fight you?” Erik’s eyes become slits, “Why would I want to fight somebody I don’t even know?”

“Well, then you must have heard about me…” Adonis says with a questioning tone. Erik licks his lips and with no regard allows his piercing eyes to memorize the shape of Adonis’ mouth. Adonis couldn’t fight the urge to do the same. He’s turned on. Just as the tension between the two of them reaches a fever pitch, Adonis steps away before he could even realize what he was doing. Adonis didn’t even know he had been holding his breath until he drew in a shaky tone. He’s noticeably quieter now, his aggression tampered. He knew his bewilderment was written across his face. Adonis squared his shoulders and shook out his limbs as if Erik had a bind on him. 

“You good, fighter?” Erik asks sarcastically, “You’re a boxer? I can tell by your reflexes. For a second I thought you were gonna try and knock me out,” Erik smiled. Adonis swallows a hefty amount of spit to calm the tingling sensation in his abdomen. 

“Yeah...I box...underground,” Adonis clarified, “Been doing it for seven years now.”

“Ahh, dirty boxing, I see,” Erik strokes his goatee, “how does one get into that shit anyway? I’m interested.” 

“You don’t choose it like you choose your next meal..you gotta be initiated in...they like to weed out the weak ones…” 

“That hardcore?” Erik took a few steps towards Adonis.

“Hell yeah,” Adonis stares at Erik’s feet as if he were overstepping, “I can tell you more about it if you’re serious.” 

“As long as it’s from the pro himself I’m all ears.” 

This foreign feeling that washed over Adonis’ body was something he felt before when he questioned whether or not he wanted a man to suck his dick. He looks back at Erik just as he smiles and Adonis rolled his eyes away slightly. What the fuck is happening right now? 

“I don’t even know your name, bro,” Adonis held out his hand to give Erik dabs, “I’m Adonis.”

“Erik,” He raised his hand to shake Adonis’. He didn’t want to linger too long but the feeling of his calloused palm teased his hand and it made him want to stroke it. When Erik let go, he allowed his fingertips to brush across the center of Adonis’ palm and that little touch caused Adonis’ biceps to flex. Good to see him react. 

“you gotta be serious...this shit is...it’s rough,” Adonis cleared his throat, “Ain’t the place to really discuss this—“

“Nah, I’m cool,” Erik says with a chuckle—a teasing grin on his face and his eyes now following the definition of Adonis’ arms. Adonis didn’t like Erik staring at him so openly. Maybe Erik got the wrong vibe from Adonis—believing him to be a possible fuck he could conquer after this crowded event, “I’ll stick to boxing in my gym. This underground shit sounds like some kind of deadly contract.” 

“It’s not for everybody,” Adonis says with a smirk, “But if you change your mind, how do I reach you? I usually don’t recruit fighters out in the open like this.”

“Here you go,” Erik pulls out his black leather wallet, retrieving a business card before handing it over to Adonis. It’s a black business card with a gold metallic painted edge for his fitness club Elite Body Edge. The business card is twice as thick as standard cards, since they are printed on 32 pt. uncoated cardstock, offering a superb heft and feel everyone will notice. Erik’s contact information is at the bottom of the card. 

“I’ve heard of this fitness club, all good things too, I’ll keep in touch if you’re ever interested.”

“I’d like to come and watch the fights at least...is that cool?” 

Adonis ponders for a bit, “We have people come and watch but it’s mainly members…”

Erik notices Adonis’ hesitation, backing away a little, “Listen, you hardly know me, I don’t want to intrude on your little secret society. However, you have my card, you can stop by the gym anytime. We have boxing equipment that you can use too.”

“Aight...cool...I’ll come and check it out,” Adonis pockets the card, “Nice to meet you, Erik, sorry for the way I came off at you earlier, my anger can be a bit out of control,” Adonis lets out a nervous chuckle. 

“A bit? I get this vibe that it’s more than just a bit,” Erik turns to leave, “Don’t hesitate to stop by and get a good work out in! Enjoy the rest of your time here at Comic Con.”

“Will do,” Adonis salutes Erik before turning away and disappearing into the sea of people.

________________________________________________________

Elite Body Edge is designed with the purpose of building strong foundations by balancing flexibility, mobility, strength, conditioning and nutrition as well as giving you the perfect sculpt to turn heads; because a strong and sculpted foundation makes a power house. With an arsenal of knowledge, from competition preparation to rehabilitation to strength and conditioning, Elite Body Edge can design a program for any body habitus to achieve any fitness goal. They offer one-on-one training, group sessions and accountability programs to best fit your needs. Why train with Elite Body Edge? No contracts with affordable month-to-month membership, a safe environment to learn proper technique from experienced trainers, a flexible schedule with a variety of group classes to fit your schedule, and an encouraging atmosphere to make working out fun.

Elite Body Edge is a high-end gym experience. Some of the club amenities include, locker rooms complete with sauna and massage chairs, rooftop deck, group fitness classes, premium strength and cardio equipment including LifeFitness, HammerStrength, Precor, and Star Trac, and an amazing aquatic area for swim-fitness. Some of the classes include Restorative Yoga, H.E.A.T Camp, TRX, Feel Fit Naked, Boxing, Self defense, Spin, H.I.I.T, Yogalates, Circuit Burn, and many more. It’s located at 8053 Beverly Boulevard, Los Angeles, CA. It’s striking architecture was designed by National Design Award winner Ian Jackson of Studio Sofield. It’s 30-foot video wall for virtual-reality cycle classes is exceedingly popular, and it’s soaring 25-foot ceilings supported by illuminated linear columns and over 40,000 square feet of state-of-the-art equipment, Elite Body Edge is a modern-day escape straight out of a sci-fi film. 

Erik is no stranger to the gym. Over the years he has received multiple certifications in performance enhancement, TRX Suspension and is a EliteFirst Certified Level 1 trainer, which he has employed as a strength and conditioning coach for the nationally recognized Fremont High School Basketball Team which has produced multiple athletes in the NBA. He supports the youth and employs them to stay active and live a healthy lifestyle. The fitness mogul himself was wrapping up a TRX tactical training course. Most of the occupants are military trained or athletes and with Erik’s skills it can keep them performing at the highest level. Sweaty, heart rate spiked, muscles fueled, and a round of applause, Erik puts up one hand with a black training glove to settle the cheers from his hard working pupils. 

“Nah, y’all should be clapping for yourselves,” Erik wipes sweat from the tip of his nose, “You guys did an amazing job today. The shit is tough but I see improvement and progress. We’ll meet at the same time next Wednesday. Remember, get some rest, stay hydrated, and eat a well balanced diet.”

Everyone gathered their things and exited the class. Erik grabs some cleaning solution and a few disposable cloths to wipe down the equipment. Gym playlist on, you wouldn’t be able to keep Erik’s energy down for one second. He’s so amped up that he could go for another training session; work on his hamstrings and calves some more. Satisfied with his cleaning, Erik exits the classroom, the double glass doors closing behind him. The energetic, hip-hop music pumped up his clients to finish their workout sessions. The air circulating the gym masked the usual odor that comes with sweating and his gym staff are very vigilant on keeping the place tidy. His staff wears black workout gear from head to toe with the gym logo on the front. 

As Erik walks through his gym, checking things out, a familiar face catches his eye. Training on an Everlast Powercore Dual bag with a speed bag attachment is the eye-candy from Comic Con just a week prior. He’s shirtless with a blue Adidas face mask on and fingerless black MMA gloves. His gym shorts hung low on his hips and his feet danced back and forth in his Speed-Flex boxing shoes in time with his fierce punches. Erik wondered when he became a member. He didn’t expect for Adonis to even take up the offer on joining the gym. Smirking, Erik strolls over towards Adonis at the same time as one of Erik’s pilates trainers, Andrea does. Andrea is wearing a black sports bra with the gym logo and black biker shorts. Her sleek platinum blonde pixie cut made her glistening peanut skin pop. Her dark brown eyes held recognition as well as lust. 

“Donnie?” Andrea says with a sultry voice, “I knew that was you,” Andrea popped her hip out, staring Adonis up and down with a big white smile, “How are you?”

Adonis takes off his face mask, those thick lips extra moist from the perspiration on his skin, “Andrea, w’sup? I’m doing good…” Adonis seemed to be thrown off by her presence. From the way he looked at her with his chocolate eyes, they must have had an interesting relationship. Erik took note of the way Adonis sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and Andrea licked her lips and touched his arm with her fingertips. 

“Why don’t you come and see me anymore? We used to have a good ass time...what happened with that? Got tired of me?” Andrea says with a single brow raised.

“I’ve been busy,” Adonis looked away awkwardly, the fresh scar above his right brow catching Andrea’s attention. 

“Busy getting into a brawl? What’s that scar about?” 

“You know me…” Adonis turned away, “Can’t pass up a good fight.”

Andrea didn’t hide her sexual appetite for Adonis from the way her eyes swept over his body, silently telling him how his ripped physique turned her on. Just when she allowed her eyes to drop to Adonis’ crotch, Erik was there next to her, the form-fitting Under Armor short sleeve grey top he wore drenched and molding with his well-built curves straining against the fabric. Two sexy men with twin facial features that made her drool like a love-sick dog. 

“Didn’t think you would show up,” Erik held his hand out to shake Adonis’ hand, “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s dope, I love the set up, I especially enjoy this boxing section...I mean, you have everything I need to help me train.” 

“Where were you training before?” Erik asked.

“Delphi Boxing Academy, but I need more free roam, too many new people to train.” Adonis replies. 

“...so, you know Andrea?” Erik looks over at her, her peanut colored skin immediately turning red and the top row of her teeth chewing on her pouty, pink bottom lip nervously. 

“Yeah, we got history,” Adonis cracks a smile, “Maybe I should catch one of your Pilates classes...watch you do that seated toe touch.” 

Erik arched a single thick brow at Adonis’ words. It wasn’t directed towards him but the seductive way he said that had a pool of desire filling the pit of his stomach. Erik knows exactly how that seated toe touch looked. Seated on the floor, knees drawn towards your chest, feet in the air and toes pointed to the sky, a complete view of a woman’s phat pussy or a man’s hefty bulge straining against the fabric of their stretchy leggings or shorts. Erik enjoys fucking a woman with a malleable body just as much as Adonis does it seems. He wouldn’t mind seeing how malleable Adonis can be.

“Let’s see if you can keep up,” Andrea gives Adonis one final look up and down before walking away, “my number is still the same.” 

Adonis watches Andrea walk away, “you got a good selection on your staff, bruh.”

“Yup,” Erik agrees, head tilted to the side, dreads shifting across his forehead before he grins, baring his teeth, “gotta have options, a pretty face brings guests, it’s all business.” 

“Well, I admire your business. The dedication and strive to pull something like this together is inspirational. I put my membership in a day ago and was trying to meet with you for a personal tour but your front desk staff said you were out for the day.” Adonis says. 

“Yeah, I’m also a Biological Science Lab Tech two days a week pulling twelve hour shifts.”

“Damn, how the hell do you function?” Adonis says with a shocked voice. 

“You gotta love what you do. You should know, with your own fight club and all, living a double life...working a regular 9-5 during the day I’m guessing?”  Erik says with curious eyes. 

“I’m a Senior Trading Analyst for Smith Boardley Financial Group so, yeah, it’s like living a double life. They don’t ask questions though, which is good.” Adonis’ face shows annoyance as if he didn’t want to talk about his job. Erik senses that maybe Adonis isn’t satisfied with his daytime life, that he feels more free at night and in the ring. He hardly even knew this guy and yet he wanted to know every little detail; ask him questions. He has so many layers to fold back, and besides his reasons behind fighting, Erik hopes to make Adonis admit to his attraction to him. Only thing is, Adonis has to believe it. He’s still uncertain and confused. 

“Why do you fight?”

Silence settles between them for a short while before Adonis finally speaks. 

“Freedom mainly. I want to stop controlling everything and just let go,” Adonis closes his eyes briefly, “if it’s not working out for me...I need to find something that doesn’t...something that doesn’t define me as this perfect dude with a perfect job, and all this fucking money. The things you own end up owning you. The people around you can drag you down. When I fight, I lose control. I’ve been taught at a very young age to bottle up my aggression but all I wanna do is use my hands and to experience some feeling in this numb world...this ‘cocooned society’.” 

“So it’s not about the violence for you? I can understand that. I guess working out is a release for me...that’s an interesting method that I support,” Erik’s eyes scan Adonis’ body, taking a step back so he can blatantly check him out, “I wanna know how this fight club operates...you think I can come watch?” 

Adonis lets go of a laugh, his dimples flashing, “Yeah, man, you can come watch. I’m gonna warn you now though, it can get pretty graphic.”

“Blood? Broken teeth? Nasty scars? That shit don’t phase me,” Erik smiles, allowing his eyes to drop over Adonis’ body. Adonis leans down to grab his water bottle, taking a sip of it and completely avoiding Erik’s unwavering eyes. Why were those eyes making Adonis’ nerves spike up with excitement. It disgruntled him and had Adonis frowning from the feeling. 

“Listen, just don’t be late,” Adonis spoke with finality, placing his face mask back on, “Can’t have people wandering in at the last minute. Come by tomorrow night around 10.” 

Adonis’ change in demeanor has Erik chuckling. He has a habit of wearing his emotions on his face. 

“Will do, bro. Catch you tomorrow...champ,” Erik jeers before leaving Adonis to his training. 

____________________________________________________________

Going Underground Records was Erik’s destination for the late evening. Founded in 2001, Bakersfield's Going Underground Records is Central California's largest and longest running vinyl record store and has recently expanded with a new brick-and-mortar location in Los Angeles. They buy, sell, and trade LPs, 45s, stereo equipment, local concert promotional items (posters, flyers, one-off recordings, etc.) and more. They purchase collections of all sizes, so whether you have a handful, or thousands of records to sell, call or stop by any day of the week. They buy daily and travel to you for large collections. It seems completely deserted from the front but Erik’s instructions from Adonis’ text was to go around back through a basement door. Parking his red Audi R8 across the street, Erik puts out his weed, leaving it in his car. Opening the door, Erik’s left foot hits the wet street. 

Fully out of his car, Erik closes the door, turning to walk across the street towards the record shop. Erik is wearing a camouflage pullover hoodie with black sweats and white Jordan 1’s with a low cut style. Bringing his hood up to cover his freshly twisted locs, Erik saunters down a narrow alleyway before making a left turn ending directly behind the record shop. As soon as he approached the red stainless steel cellar doors, Erik knocks twice, stepping away just in time as a tall, carob-skinned man with a bald head and a single gold hoop earring dressed in a black bomber jacket with a dark purple T-shirt and dark blue denim jeans opens the cellar doors. He looked at Erik in an angry or threatening way, his bug-eyes practically sizing Erik up like he wasn’t welcome. Erik was expressionless, no signs of fear towards this shaq looking man whatsoever, instead, Erik pockets his hands and clears his throat to speak. 

“I’m here for rebellion.” Erik says. He was told to say this at the door from Adonis’ text after the gym yesterday. Erik stopped him before Adonis took off in his matte black Chevy corvette. They exchanged numbers so that Adonis could text him the address and password for entry into the fight club. 

“Why do you seek rebellion?” The man spoke with a voice as hard as the blade of a shovel. 

“Because of this effeminized society that forces me to live a dull and meaningless life,” Erik says with an even tone. 

“Come in, quick,” The man says, “I’m Damion, the owner of this record shop.”

“Erik,” He shook hands with the man before entering the basement of the record shop through the cellar doors. There are metal shelves filled with boxes and janitorial items. Following Damion, Erik could hear hoots and hollers growing louder and louder within the basement. A black drape ahead separated Erik and Damion from the fight club. When the drape was pulled back, the badly lit room with a boxing ring and a crowd of at least thirty people awaited Erik. The shouts and roars are angry and free in Erik’s ears. It smelled like sweat, liquor, weed, and Vaseline mixed with coagulate. 

There, in the middle of the ring with his fists tightly clenched, black boxer shorts hanging low on his hips, and left nose bleeding is Adonis himself. What would be his excuse this time when he went to work the next day? Maybe that he tripped and fell face first, bloodying up his nose. He bares his teeth that are just as bloody as his nose, punching his opponent so hard that they fall to the floor of the ring, his head pinched between the floor of the ring and Adonis’ left knee. Adonis kept slamming his fist into the bridge of his opponents nose——a beefy looking white man with ginger hair and a large leprechaun tattoo on his broad back. He did it again and again in flat hard packing sounds you could hear over all the yelling until the ginger-haired man caught enough breath and sprayed blood to say, stop. Just as those words fell from his lips with difficulty, Adonis stands to his full height, fisting the air with triumph. 

“WHO WANTS NEXT? The night is just getting started!!” Adonis yells, voice like a rising storm, “THE RING IS FREE!”

“I’ll take him on!” A random black guy wearing a FedEx uniform says, pointing to a tall blonde-haired alternative-looking white guy with arm tattoos and nails painted black, “He’s been giving me a dirty look all night, let’s see what your hands are like. I had a long fucking day too,” The FedEx worker removed his hat revealing a clean faded haircut with waves, “Lets go!!! Don’t act scared now!!”

The ginger-haired white man was pulled from the ring, a bloody trail from his face following him. Adonis slid between the ropes and hopped out of the ring, walking through the crowded room until he reached a table with a series of water bottles and towels. Adonis grabs a bottle of water to drink, his grip crushing the plastic bottle before he tosses it away. Erik’s attention was brought back to the ring when the black guy kicked the air out of the alternative white guy then landed on him pounding him limp. The white guy clawed his neck for him to stop and that’s when he backed off with a viscous laugh. The blonde took this opportunity to give him a taste of his medicine. His left fist connected with the black guy's face, spit flying from between his full lips. 

Yeah! Yeah! Kick his ass! 

It was like a raging storm in that room. Erik walks further into the room, bumping shoulders accidentally with a wild amped up Al Pacino look alike with slicked back hair and what looked to be a waiter’s uniform on. These men came all the way here from their boring jobs to relieve some tension. Erik took his spot in a corner, his commanding yet piercing eyes scanning the room. He sought out Adonis again, finding him shouting into the ring. Erik was standing under one of only several lights in the after-midnight blackness of a basement full of men. In the ring two new guys are fighting. One of the men has his opponent's arms behind his head in a full nelson and rammed his face into the ring floor until his teeth bit down on the inside of his cheek. He kept going, even when the guy yelled stop. Adonis jumped into the ring, yanking the guy away and earning a right hook to his face. Erik hisses before grabbing his own jaw as if he could feel it. 

“WHAT ARE THE FUCKING RULES, HUH?!” Adonis head butts him, knocking the guy to the floor before looking down on him with vengeful eyes, “WHEN THEY YELL STOP! YOU FUCKING STOP! Get up,” Adonis throws up his fists, “I said get the fuck up!”

Yeah Adonis! Teach him a lesson!

Body glistening from sweat and muscles perfectly sculpted as if they were carved out of limestone, Adonis beats this man down with just his fists, no special combo move like he’s some wrestler. The guy had enough, throwing his hands up in surrender. Adonis smiles with his blood stained teeth. There’s grunting and noise at fight club like at the gym, but fight club isn’t about looking good. There’s hysterical shouting in tongues like at church, except this isn’t a holy sanctuary like your grandmother would drag you to every Sunday morning to praise and worship. Erik briefly wondered who is responsible for mopping up the blood and sweat from the ring floor after all of this is over. Just standing there watching has his adrenaline spiked. Adonis raises his head towards the ceiling before opening his eyes, the low light making the blood on his face glisten. 

His chocolate eyes scanned the room and when they landed on Erik he seemed to freeze with shock but then a knowing smile appeared on his face. Erik returned the same smile bobbing his head in greeting. Adonis left the ring and squeezed through the small crowd of men before finally coming face to face with Erik. Erik’s eyes sparked as they quickly swept Adonis’ drenched body. He had to suck in a quick breath to calm the pulse coming from his dick. All this charged up, aggressive energy is what Erik craves every time he fucks a man. That fighting back before surrendering to him when all his fat dick enters them. Adonis looked like the type to fight back, Erik really wanted to see that for himself. He hoped it would be sooner rather than later. 

“Looks like underground street fights are a new favorite of mines,” Erik chuckled. 

The corners of Adonis’ eyes crinkled as he smiled, “Didn’t think you would really show up.”

“I’m not all bark and no bite, bruh. When I say I’m gonna be somewhere, I make it happen. Anyway, I ain’t never seen shit like this so I wasn’t about to pass that up,” Erik’s lashes fluttered and his tongue glided across his bottom lip, his gold slugs twinkling in the low light like diamonds. Adonis’ brows knitted and his eyes fell to Erik’s lips. He caught himself staring and backed away, scratching the tip of his nose and taking a deep breath, his pectorals dancing one at a time. Erik’s eyes flickered with mischief and he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I broke the code inviting you here, you know that?” Adonis looks around, “I’m surprised nobody called you out to fight them. When that happens, you have to fight. That’s the rules.” 

“I don’t abide by rules easily,” Erik’s eyes are ablaze but his voice is like melted honey, “And clearly neither do you. I do my own thing. Is there some contract you have to sign to be involved in this shit?”

“First thirty names on the list get in, if you get in, you set up your fight right away, if you want to fight. If not, there are guys that do so maybe you should stay home.” Adonis points to his left brow, “A couple of stitches fixed this, some of these guys leave here with injuries so bad they need a bed in the hospital...It ain’t for everybody.” 

“But yet here they are getting their asses handed to em’,” Erik shakes his head, “Looks like you need a drink.” 

“I do, I was actually headed to the bar around the corner after this,” Adonis lifted a single brow as his eyes peered into Erik’s, “You’re welcome to join me if you want...I can tell you more about the fight club...looks like you’re interested in joining.” 

“Maybe,” Erik surveyed Adonis’ face, “We could get to know each other a little? You know, I feel like you’re a cool dude, wouldn’t mind kickin’ it over drinks.” 

“I don’t see why not,” Adonis gives Erik a quizzical look before backing away, “Meet me at The Spare Room around the corner from here.” 

Erik chuckles as he watches Adonis back away, stroking the length of his beard while he takes in the vibe of Adonis’ body language, “Aight, I’ll be waiting for you at the bar.” 

_____________________________________________________________

“I ordered for you if that’s cool? Whiskey.” 

Adonis is sporting a black and grey Nike zip-up hoodie with matching track pants and black AirMax on his feet. He settles next to Erik at the bar before drumming his fingers nervously on the polished wood of the bar countertop. The bartender serves them two glass tumblers filled with whiskey and a black cocktail straw. Erik removes his straw and drinks straight from the rim of his glass. Adonis stirs the ice in his glass around before taking a hefty sip over the rim as well. 

“What are you going to tell your job tomorrow about that purple bruise under your eye and that bloody nose? You tripped and hit your face against a brick wall?” Erik cracks a smile.

“I’m off tomorrow,” Adonis touches the bruise under his eye, wincing a bit, “That punch was brutal.” 

“I felt that shit myself. Damn, he got your ass good.” 

“And I got his ass right back,” Adonis proclaimed. 

Erik finishes his drink before calling on the bartender for more.

“After a fight I usually get some pussy to calm me down but good pussy is hard to come by these days,” Adonis stretches his back, “I ain’t been in good pussy in a minute…”

Erik’s jaw clenched at the way Adonis said pussy. He glanced over at Adonis, watching him drink from his glass. 

“Shoot Andrea a text, maybe she’ll stop by and give you that pussy you’ve been craving,” Erik motions for 

Adonis to pick up his phone, “The night is still young, ain’t too late to get in that puss...ain’t never too late.”

Adonis arched a single brow at Erik, “...You fuck her?”

“She yours?” Erik twirled his glass while studying his drink.

“Nah, she’s not...but did you hit?”

Erik bites his bottom lip, “Once, around the time I first hired her. She got it.”

“I know, I been it before,” Adonis shakes his head, “You fuck all the women on your staff?” 

“Yeah, if they want this fat dick.” 

Adonis stirred in his seat, “Another round, homie.”

The bartender fills his glass, the liquid sloshing around the only sound between them until the bartender walks away. 

“You mad I dipped into Drea?” Erik asks casually.

“Can’t be mad at that. She’s not mine...remember?” 

“I got this feeling that if she was yours...you would use this bar top to crack my head open,” Erik flashes Adonis a dimpled smile, “That’s if you can though.” 

“You talk like you would want that,” Adonis squinted his eyes. 

“I like aggression,” Erik says with a hushed tone. Adonis looked away, pondering Erik’s words. He couldn’t explain it but the way he said that felt as if he were flirting with him. Adonis pulls his phone out of his pocket at that exact moment to find Andrea’s number. He shoots her a quick you up text before returning to his drink. 

“You from around here,” Adonis asked to clear the growing tension. It only worked a little. 

“South Central. You?” 

“Crenshaw up until the age of twelve, in and out of Juvie until my dad's wife found me…”

“Your mom wasn’t around?” Erik asked.

“She died when I was ten. Never knew my dad until his wife took me in...from there I moved to Tarzana to live in this mansion. My whole life changed. Found out who my pops was too. Apollo Creed.” 

“Shit...you serious?” Erik’s eyebrows disappeared behind his dreads, “Bro...that’s WILD...why didn’t you follow in your father's footsteps?”

“I didn’t want to be known as Apollo Creed’s son and expected to be the next Creed star. I wanted to do my own thing, you know? That pro boxer shit didn’t stroke my curiosity. All the fame, all the attention. Nah, underground street fighting is my thing.”

“I’m sure your old man would be proud either way though, you’re a hot head just like him.” 

Adonis smirks, “That’s what I’ve been told.” 

“I know mine would be proud of me...lost him to the streets back in 92’ when the riots were going on. He was an activist like my momma. He protected me from getting shot on my tricycle. It humbled me...Still got my momma. She moved back to New Orleans two years ago.”

“Those riots were crazy. I’m sorry about your father...shit is tough.” 

Erik sighs, “It is, but it just reminds me of how lucky I am to have him as a father. Made me the man I am today.” 

“Yeah...I got nothing but love for my dad even though I never met him. Took me a while to get here though, it wasn’t a walk in the park. Got siblings I didn’t connect with in the beginning but now we’re tight. Mary Anne...that’s my step-mom’s name, she didn’t have to raise me, could have left me in the system.”

“What was your real mom’s name?”

“Vivica. She was an aspiring model. My dad met her at some Hollywood party. They slept around for a while but then Mary Anne found out so he ended things. My mom got pregnant, kept the pregnancy a secret until she passed from a brain aneurysm. By then my pops was already gone. Mary Anne found out and raised me.”

“Man,” Erik dragged his hand down his face, “This whole conversation turned heavy so quick. Let’s fill up these glasses, we need more liquor.”

“I second that.”

The bartender gladly refilled their glasses. For a little while longer, Erik and Adonis talked, learning more about each other. They argued about their favorite Anime, the best clubs in LA, and other random shit that had them laughing. They had only met about six days ago and they talked like old friends catching up. Adonis asks for a bottle of water since he has to drive. The bartender brings him his bottle at the precise moment that his phone buzzes. Picking up his phone, Adonis unlocks it to find a text with an image attached from Andrea. Opening the text, Adonis’ eyes became stormy with lust and his bottom lip poked out with need. 

“Goddamn,” He muttered. Andrea always knew how to get him worked up. She’s on the floor naked with her legs spread wide in front of her floor mirror, peanut skin glistening from whatever body oil she used and that phat, creamy pussy with all her glistening pink spread open and freshly waxed for him to come play with. He remembers how sweet she tastes. Adonis’ tongue rolled around his teeth before forcing his eyes away, locking the phone and placing it within his pocket. He was about to be all up in that pussy. 

“Andrea?” Erik says with a sly smirk. 

“Yeah...she really miss me,” Adonis retrieves his wallet from his pocket, “I can cover the drinks—“

“It’s already on my tab, bruh. Don’t worry about it. Go ahead and handle your business.” 

“You ain’t have to do that, Erik,” Adonis stands from his stool.”

“Think of it as a victory drink for the champion of underground street fighting,” Erik held up his glass to Adonis before knocking back the rest of the contents. 

“I hope that’s your last drink, your eyes are so fucking low.” 

“It is, I gotta get home, I’m pretty tired,” Erik tells the bartender to close his tab before standing from his seat. He dabs Adonis, bringing him in for a brief bro hug, pulling away so that his cologne wouldn’t have his dick brushing up against his. He didn’t need that to happen so soon. 

“I’ll holla at you, Erik,” Adonis turns to leave the bar. 

Erik watches him exit before short, heated breaths escaped his mouth. Erik signs his receipt before leaving himself. While walking to the car, Erik pulls his phone from his hoodie pocket, scrolling through his messages, and finding the person he was looking for. 

Erik: Still on for tomorrow night with you and hubby?

Jodie: Absolutely💕 we’ll see you tomorrow night! Can’t wait 😘

______________________________________________________________

Andrea has an apartment at the Madison Toluca in North Hollywood, CA. It’s a three bedroom, two bathroom apartment with a black, red, and white color scheme. Adonis arrived shortly after 12:30 AM and knocked on her door. Her All black Yorkipoo—-a mixed breed of a Yorkshire terrier and a poodle, named Cookie was barking at the door when he knocked. Andrea could be heard yelling at Cookie before opening her door. Andrea beamed at Adonis with her big round eyes bewitching and her smile wide and pretty. She was wearing a teal blue Nike sports bra with a pair of black high crotch panties and bare feet. Her platinum blonde pixie cut is wet and slicked back from her shower and her peanut skin still glowed from the oil on her body. 

“I didn’t get a response from you so I didn’t think you would show up,” Andrea stepped to the side to allow Adonis entry, “What made you text me tonight to see if I was up?”

“You know how I get after a fight.”

 Adonis closed the space between them and grabbed the back of Andrea’s neck, tilting her head back enough to have her back bending before his thick tongue slithered up her neck and to her lips for a kiss. Adonis always itched for sex after a fight. His dick on swole and his hands unexcused Adonis cuffed Andrea’s ass, damn near pulling her from the ground. They continued to kiss, suck, and lick all over each other’s mouth to savor the taste. 

“Damn, got my dick heavy right now, girl,” Adonis squeezes Andrea’s ass, “come on, I want that pretty pussy.” 

“Donnie,” Andrea moaned, voice as pure and sweet as if from heaven, “I miss the way you used to fuck me.” 

“Uh-huh?” Adonis lifts Andrea off her feet, wrapping her legs around him, “How I used to fuck you?” 

“So good baby,” Andrea thumbed Adonis’ pouty bottom lip before peppering light kisses along them, “I miss your lips on my pussy too.” 

“I can’t wait to taste it again, is she still nice and creamy?”

“Always, daddy,” Andrea’s body shook with anticipation in his arms, “Damn...I’m shaking.” 

“It’s because you need this just as much as I do.” 

“I miss your big dick stuffing me,” Andrea dragged her kisses down Adonis’ neck. 

“You miss the way daddy used to give it to you?”

“Ooh, yes—“ 

“I’ma tear you up, Drea.” 

Adonis brought Andrea to her bedroom, flopping down with her straddling his lap. Andrea giggles like she always does while Adonis kisses along her neck and tongues her cleavage. Andrea’s breath is coming out shallow and fast. Adonis grabbed her face, making her look at him. 

“Breathe,” Adonis pecked her nose, “This dick ain’t going nowhere,” Adonis smirked, “It’s all for you, girl.”

“This my dick?” Andrea leans back so that she could grab for Adonis’ crotch, “It’s so goddamn thick goddamn baby.”

“I’m tryna make you cream all over it.”

Adonis was in an intense tongue-lock with Andrea while she stroked him through his track pants. She broke the kiss with a trail of spit before lifting from Adonis’ lap and dropping to her knees. A constant hiss escaped her mouth as she fumbled with his track pants. Discovering his waistband, Andrea pulls his pants and briefs down and around his ankles. That fat, long, swinging dick almost hit her in the face. Andrea grabs it before putting it right in her mouth where it belongs. While Andrea Gluck-Glucked Adonis removed his hoodie and the black T-shirt beneath it. 

“I just wanna fuck your face and eat your pussy until you can’t take it anymore,” Adonis tilted his head back, “Drea, fuck.” 

Adonis curses under his breath when Andrea gave his heavy balls some attention before bringing her lips back to that fat tip. Adonis dragged his fingers through her wet, short platinum blonde strands before palming the back of her neck and forcing more dick into her mouth. The loud slurping was something Adonis missed heavily. His hips were practically off of the bed now, lip between his teeth and eyebrows knitted together. 

“I miss this fucking mouth,” Adonis fucked Andrea’s mouth, “Shit, Drea, you still got it girl, this mouth is still a beast.” 

Andrea smirked before stroking his spit covered dick while sucking the tip. She really missed his dick from the way she was eating it up. Adonis wasn’t about to stop her, he simply widened his legs and laid back on his elbows. 

“You finna have a nigga bust,” Adonis’ abdomen flexed, “I needed this so fucking bad, make me bust, girl.” 

The eye contact she was giving him had Adonis balls so full with his tasty cum. 

“Just loving on me,” He says before chewing on his bottom lip, “Mmhmmm,” his eyes closed and his brows pressed together tightly. 

Andrea planted her hands on the bed and started bobbing her head up and down his dick while moving her head in a circular motion. 

“Slow down...yes, yes, like that,” Adonis’ lips parted. 

He could literally feel the corners of the inside of Andrea’s mouth and her tight pouty lips nice and steady on his dick. She manipulated that muscular organ in her mouth to flick back and forth on the base of his dick and his balls each time she went down. 

“Love on my dick, babygirl, Drea I’m about to bust, you ready?” Adonis’ eyes squeezed shut and he completely fell back against the bed, “good girl slurp all that shit up oh my fucking God,” Adonis exploded in Andrea’s mouth damn near making her choke. 

“Get up here,” He says, picking Andrea up and bringing her on the bed. Andrea was on her knees, shaking her slim thick booty in his face, her pussy wide with anticipation. Her cream made a mess of her pussy and it was begging to be licked up. Adonis smacks each ass cheek before giving both of them a nice, appreciative kiss. His lips tickled and they felt so moist against Andrea’s skin. She widened her thighs and arched her back more, practically pushing her pussy into Adonis’ face for him. 

“You shoving this beautiful pussy in my face?”

Andrea nods her head with a bite of her lip. Adonis turns around, laying his head between Andrea’s thighs before wrapping one arm around her waist with the other hand occupied with jerking his fat pole. Andrea sat on his face fully before grinding Adonis’ lips. He leans forward to place his lips on her pussy, serving her tongue with long trails of spit. The wiggle of his wet tongue had her lifting up on her hands, thighs shaking. Adonis takes both of his thumbs, peeling her open.

His damn tongue.

“Ooh, yes, Donnie.” 

Her entire body shivered.

Adonis’ tongue was dripping with spit and warm against her inner folds. He was in the middle of spelling out his name with the tip of his tongue all up and down her slit. With the D Andrea’s body shivered. With the O she started shuddering in breaths of gasping completion. With the two N’s Andrea clawed the bed. The letter I made a shape over her clit at the right angle. After the E He sucked her pussy into his mouth. 

“When you lick me you never miss a spot,” She said with a voice like the harmony of angles. Adonis lapped at her pussy some more in response to her words, “Donnie, please don’t stop, baby...I’m gonna cum, Donnie keep doing that to me.” 

Adonis gave her sloppy suction kisses down to her entrance and back up to her clit, keeping her lips apart so he could really get inside. He repeated and repeated, slurping and sucking and licking and kissing. He went faster and faster and she bucked her hips into his mouth, cries getting louder and louder.

“Mmmm, yes, do it like that,” Andrea said with a sensual voice. 

“How bad do you want to cum?” Adonis said before he slurped on her clit and her labia at the same time, moaning himself feeling his precum wet his fingers.

 “Really bad daddy...I wanna cum so fucking bad from your dirty mouth...make me scream.”

“Fuck. You may be a sweetheart but you a freak for sure.” 

Adonis concentrates on tonguing and sucking all the spots that have Andrea’s hips bucking and her pussy smothering him. 

“Daddy...guess what?” Andrea’s eyes watered and heat crept up her body. 

“Uh-huh, I got that pussy cumming?” Adonis’ words are muffled with the way his lips trailed all over Andrea’s pussy. 

With that Andrea’s body froze as her orgasm washed over her. Remembering how good Adonis ate her pussy wasn’t enough for her. Now she was experiencing it again while sitting on his face. He was going for round two from what it felt like. He kept saying over and over how much he needed her beautiful phat pussy and how he was going to dick her down just like that with her back arched. Andrea was ready to crawl off of him when her second orgasm hit her. She squealed so loud her throat went raw. Satisfied, Adonis resurfaced, his lips and freshly shaved chin glistening from her juicy folds. 

“Come taste how sweet you are.” 

Andrea turns, wrapping her arms around Adonis’ shoulders before licking his lips. She hummed with satisfaction while pulling him down on top of her body. 

“Pussy is gushy baby,” Adonis held all his body weight up on one hand while the other played with Andrea’s folds, “That pussy just needs me in it...I could tell from how your eyes lit up when you saw me… miss the way I bust this tight kitty open...I wanna stick my dick so deep in it.”

Adonis leans down on his elbow to kiss Andrea again while he rubbed her clit. His dick is like a swinging pendulum between his legs right now, desperate and hard for Andrea’s pussy. Adonis has enough of teasing Andrea with how fast his heart beats and how painfully hard he is. Grabbing his dick, mixing the wetness on his fingers from her pussy on his pre-cum laden dick, Adonis lined up with Andrea’s pussy before thrusting in slowly, widening her thighs at the same time. Adonis groaned when he was fully inside, making sure to watch her face so that he could see all of her expressions. 

“Ahhh, yes, that’s it.” 

Adonis’ muscular body was mesmerizing from that angle. He began to roll his hips, working all that girth and length in and out of Andrea. Adonis felt Andrea’s pussy squeeze his dick and it only made him go harder. Adonis pulls Andrea’s sports bra off, her perky breasts with dark brown nipples reminding him of Hershey kisses blessing his eyes. Adonis sucked on each titty while he strokes her pussy. The double sensation has Andrea creamy and the macaroni and cheese sound of her pussy grew louder and louder between them. 

“You taking this dick just like you used to,” Adonis pushes her thighs back, “Fuck all that moaning call me daddy while I’m in it.” 

“Daddy,” Andrea whispered. 

“Look at it Drea,” Adonis whispered back. 

Andrea’s eyes traveled down the length of Adonis’ magnificent body to his long, thick dick spreading her open. She couldn’t put into words how full she felt. 

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Adonis whispered, “This how Erik fucked this pussy?”

Andrea’s eyes flicked up to Adonis’ face quickly. She went red with embarrassment, ragged gasps leaving her mouth. 

“What? Answer the question,” Adonis pushed his dick all the way in. Andrea could feel it tickle her navel. 

“Yessssssss,” Andrea answered with an uneven breath. 

“He fuck this pussy in your bed, Drea?” Adonis’ hips were smacking into the back of her thighs, “What he do, girl?”

“He-he fu-fucked me in my b-bed,” Andrea stuttered. Adonis heard himself grunt at her response. Had he ever gotten off on another man fucking the same chick as him? No. Probably wouldn’t have cared in the past but for some reason, knowing that Erik hit Drea too has him harder than he was seconds ago.

“You call him daddy?” 

“Yes!!! Donnie, baby, it’s so much dick,” Andrea’s face frowned with ecstasy.

“And this pussy is good so you’re getting all this dick, baby,” Adonis reaches up to grab onto Andrea’s headboard and she knows what that means. Andrea held onto his waist with a death grip to prepare herself. Adonis started descending his dick all at once in Andrea’s pussy. No pause, no warning, just nothing but a fat dick with all its length sinking into her drenched pussy fluently. It felt like she wasn’t in control of her body anymore. 

“Donnie, please please please,” Her mouth opened, no words escaping. 

“Did he call you his nasty little girl?” Adonis says with a voice so gruff and guttural. He looked down at his dick working the hell out of Andrea’s pussy. The muscles in his back and arms burned in a good way. He was tearing Andrea up from this angle, “Got me going crazy in this pussy...I needed this pussy.” 

“Daddy, daddy I’m gonna squirt,” Andrea’s toes curled. Her body didn’t feel like it belonged to her anymore with the way Adonis was taking her pussy. Andrea trembled while her pussy leaked it’s sweet juices all over his dick. 

“Got that pussy cumming?!! You ain’t answer my question...he calls you his nasty little girl?” 

“No,” she spoke faintly, “He called me his nasty little bitch.” 

Adonis bit down on his lip hard. He pumped her fast a few more times before withdrawing from her tightness, flipping her over and arching her back deep. 

“Nasty little bitch? Huh? You like that name?” Adonis sounded harsh, “Keep that ass up Drea, come on baby...I got something for you.” 

“DADDY!!” Andrea wasn’t prepared for that big surprise just now. Adonis has both of his large hands on her waist while he plowed her. She never had this rough amount of treatment from him. 

“Daddy, shit,” her shoulders fell forward against the bed. High-pitched moans filled the room and her cheeks smacking and ricocheting off of Adonis’ rock hard hips was stinging her flesh. He was hostile and she loved the change. Sure, Adonis’ much gentle side was always just as good but to see him use her body the way he was it had her squirting and she never experienced squirting while having sex with him. She needed more of this. 

“Throw it back, Drea, keep going, baby,” Adonis watched her struggle. It didn’t matter to him, his big dick was nice and wet. 

“Nasty little girl, huh?” 

“Yes,” Her breath was rattled. 

“Come on and make this dick cum.” Adonis grabbed her hips, forcing her back to take all his length. Andrea screamed.

“That’s how you do it, so do it, girl, I’m not showing you again,” Adonis watched her do it right this time with a smirk, “That’s my nasty little girl… take this dick...keep taking this dick.”

“Daddy-“

“Why is this lil’ pussy so fat? Damn,” Adonis felt his nut sack jump, “Look at this beautiful, fat pussy, go ahead and cum Drea, go ahead baby.” 

“Yes, daddy, Unh!!!!!” 

Andrea slows down, Adonis taking over again, giving it to her and moaning the closer he got to cumming. 

“That pretty pussy, fuck, take this nut girl,” Adonis’ words were stuck in his throat the second he let off in her pussy with his thick cum. Thank God she was taking contraceptives because she would be pregnant with all his damn babies with how thick and heavy his load is. Adonis retracted his hips, dick sliding out and his cum dripping from Andrea’s gaping entrance. His dick left a serious imprint with how much wider her slick hole is. 

“Damn,” Andrea’s body turned over, “That was some kind of fucking,” she giggles, wiping sweat from her face, “What’s gotten into you, Donnie? baby, you were wild in this pussy tonight.” 

“Lack of pussy does that to you,” Adonis stood from the bed, stretching out his back muscles. Andrea tilted her head while staring at his dick. 

“Round two?” Andrea begged. 

Adonis sighed, “I need some water first.” 

“How do you know Erik anyway?” 

Adonis shrugged, “Comic Con. It was a random situation. He gave me his business card and that’s how I ended up at his gym.” 

Andrea gave Adonis a playful smile, “Are you mad that I fucked him? It was only once, Adonis.” 

“Nah, I’m not mad,” Adonis gave Andrea a once-over with his chocolate eyes, “But you liked that I brought it up...that pussy was choking my dick.” 

“I did. Maybe we should have a threesome. I would love it if you both fucked me.” 

Adonis felt his chest grow tight from her words. His face twisted up with confusion at the feeling. Was that...anticipation? Nervous excitement? 

“Maybe, you should get on all fours again so I can come back and get some more of that pussy,” Adonis responded before leaving her room to grab them both some water. 

_____________________________________________________________

Parked on a hill on Valley Ridge Ave. in View Park, CA,

Erik pulled out his phone to remind himself of the address. 4515. DVSN- Still Pray for You stopped playing when Erik turned his car off. Air Jordan 3 Retro’s, Khaki cargo pants, white T-shirt, a denim jacket, and layered gold chains was Erik’s outfit for the evening. His dreads are side swept, a few of them falling in his eyes. He slouched slightly in his gait, oozing confidence. The home is an iconic 1930 Spanish Revival with stunning city views, exceptional vintage details, custom modern updates, a large beautiful private yard with a tiered flat grassy area, patio, and an herb garden. Jogging up the steps, Erik knocked on the green door, stepping back before swatting away a moth that lingered near the porch light. 

The door unlocked, Jodie standing before Erik with a glass of red wine in her hand and a long charcoal grey T-shirt dress with a high slit, coffee brown eyes fringed with false lashes and copper skin looking soft and silky. Her lush lips are glossy and her blue-black hair is in a sleek low bun. Erik’s eyes traveled from her toes that are painted a fuchsia pink up her shapely legs, over her poked out hip and up to her heart-shaped face. Sweet notes of apple and apricot wafted from her skin the closer Erik got to her. He leaned down to kiss her glossy lips delicately, his tongue tasting the gloss. Jodie’s oval-shaped pink ombré nail skimmed Erik’s jawline with fascination. 

“Hi,” Jodie said with a pleasant voice. 

“Hey,” Erik whispered back, the suave way he said it causing Jodie to nibble on her lip. 

“Do you want some wine?” Jodie offered. 

“I’ll take some wine,” Erik closes Jodie’s front door, “Where is the party?”

“For now, in the living room.” 

Jodie pointed towards the area in question before walking away with a sway of her extremely thick hips towards the kitchen. Erik found the living room, Jodie’s husband, Vance, seated on the couch, smoking some weed, denim cut-off shorts on, an olive green linen short sleeve button-down shirt with a bandanna print open and revealing his athletic body. The deep brown complexion of his skin looked satiny beneath the living room lights. His chiseled face with sharp cheekbones made him look like a male model and Erik especially loved the nose ring on his broad nose. His full lips smirked at him before taking yet another puff of weed. That fresh fade with glossy waves and perfectly groomed beard has Erik lusting even more. 

Vance spoke with a husky voice, “Erik...glad you came.” 

“Me too...let me hit that.”

Vance shared his weed with Erik. 

“Training TRX on Wednesday next week?” Vance asked. 

“I am. I’m not here to talk about my gym though, you know that,” Erik said, savoring the weed, “I ain’t know you went both ways, Vance.” 

Vance cracked a smile, “Yeah, I’m bisexual. Me and Jodie. We’ve been trying to hook up a threesome with a man for a while and then Jodie said she saw you out a few weeks ago at the Avalon with some dude tonguing him down.”

“A date I met on Tinder, fucked him good that night too,” Erik’s head relaxed against the couch, licking his lips to the memory. 

“I bet you did,” Vance passed the weed, “He takes it well too?”

“He needed to be trained, but I’m good at that..have them coming back for more in no time.” 

“Mm,” Vance’s eyes glossed down to Erik’s crotch where his dick print was visible on his left thigh. Vance shook his head as his breath rushed out. Erik was a big boy. 

“You looking for something?” Erik spoke softly, the sensation of the weed sweeping deeper, “it’s right here,” Erik squeezed his dick, the cargo pants molding around the shape of it, “You want this dick?” Erik’s eyes looked at Vance’s big lips and he just knew those juicy lips would feel fucking fantastic sucking on him. 

“I do, I want that dick.” 

“Put that weed out and come get it, that’s why I’m here right? Get the fuck over here,” Erik takes off his denim jacket, widening his thighs, “That pretty ass mouth you got...I need my dick sucked now…do it slow too.” 

Vance’s hand gripped Erik’s dick through his pants. Erik made it jump against his hand. Vance let out a groan. 

“Come on, boy, my shit is thick right now.” 

Vance went to work on Erik’s pants, pulling them down and around his ankles. He couldn’t wait to satisfy the beautiful massive dick in front of his eyes. Slide that big dick in his hungry mouth and drain his balls. Speaking of balls...they are heavy and soft to the touch. Erik slouched, pulling his T-shirt up to reveal his taut abdomen, defined pectorals, and bulging biceps. His dick was standing up and the veins looked like a work of art on his chocolate pole. 

“From the way you’re looking at it I can tell you’ve been wondering just how big this dick is...right, nigga?”

“Yes…”

“Yeah...it’s here for you and your wife...where is wifey at anyway? Jodie!” Erik called for her.

“I’m here—Ooh,” Jodie sauntered over and placed Erik’s wine on the coffee table. She’s in her purple lace bra and panties set. Jodie dropped to her knees next to Vance. She stared at Erik’s dick in a trance. 

“Let me feel those soft ass lips, Vance,” Erik slapped Vance on the cheek, startling him, “Yeah, you taking too long, baby boy, all this fat dick in front of you. Show your wife how you suck some nut out of the dick.”

“Damn, Erik,” Jodie’s eyes are love-struck. 

Vance gripped Erik’s dick and pumped him nice and steady, making sure to squeeze a little just beneath the tip of his dick so he could watch his pre-cum spill from his slit. Spreading the pre-cum along the sides of Erik’s dick, Vance’s big lips engulfed half of Erik’s dick, bobbing his head while reaching down to gently squeeze his balls. Erik kept his gaze pointed downward, looking from his dick being sucked by Vance and Jodie watching with envious eyes. Jodie has to grab hold of something so she placed her hand over Vance’s erection, his visible erection pressed hard against his denim cut-offs. 

“Two big dicks just for me,” Jodie spoke with excitement. 

“Don’t worry, ma, you’ll have some of this dick in your mouth too, Fuckkkk...yeah, suck that shit...suck that fat dick...oooh, you really wanted this shit, hungry ass nigga...don’t get too greedy your wife need some of that too.”

“Yes I do,” Jodie has Vance’s jeans and briefs down with his dark chocolate dick in her hand, nice and warm. It’s more so long than girthy. She jerked him while watching Vance slurp up Erik. 

“Vance...baby...get that dick,” She whimpered. 

Erik will never get over how good Vance’s lips feel. He thrust his hips, forcing more girth and length into Vance’s greedy mouth. Damn, he can deep throat too. 

“Look at you deep throating this wood, boy. You miss big black dick in your mouth, yeah? Miss a nice pair of heavy balls too? I got a load waiting just for you...all you gotta do is be a good boy…”

Erik’s eyes went so low that his long lashes made them seem like they are closed. Jodie’s hand twisted Vance’s erection and each time Erik’s dick hit the back of Vance’s throat, his dick would jump in Jodie’s hand. She arched her back and brought her lips to Vance’s dick. Jodie wasted no time slurping along Vance’s dick. One look at Jodie’s ass in the air has Erik reaching down, his thick fingers clawing her lace panties and yanking them from her ass in pieces. That action made her lips tighten around Vance’s dick and Vance moaned. 

“How that dick taste Jodie?” Erik asked. 

“Delicious,” She said before slurping Vance up some more. 

“Got that phat ass in the air...I already know that pussy phat with the way it sits in your leggings at the gym…”

“Mmm,” Vance cast his eyes upwards watching as Erik’s toned abdomen is exposed, reaching up to run his hand along the deep ridges of the cut muscle, slurping along his dick. He worked more of Erik into his mouth until his nose touched his trimmed hairs, feeling his length curve down his throat as he took him all the way. 

Jodie was in the middle of gagging on Vance’s dick, her spit staining the carpet the more she tried to swallow him. She reached beneath her, hand finding her creamy pussy before spreading her folds to rub her clit in circles. Erik could hear Jodie’s pussy from his seat on the couch. He groans deep, mouth hanging open from the way Vance was sucking him. He tilts his head to watch Jodie while holding the back of Vance’s head to fuck his throat. 

“FUCK!” Erik let out the curse before gripping Vance’s throat, hips jerking from how purposefully tight Vance’s lips are as his mouth slipped off, “Let Jodie have some.” 

Jodie’s lips popped off of Vance’s dick. Erik gazed at Vance’s dark brown dick. All that dark chocolate. He’s long as fuck too. Ain’t nothing Erik can’t handle down his throat. Too bad tonight was his night to get all the work. Jodie moaned before gripping Erik’s spit covered dick. Her tongue flicked Erik’s dick before she locked eyes with him, batting her false lashes like she’s innocent with all that fat dick in her mouth. 

“Damn, girl, crazy with it,” Erik leaned forward to slap both of Jodie’s cheeks hard, “Got all this hard dick down your pretty little throat...got your Hubby taking off his clothes...you see your wife sucking my dick, Vance? She a dick hungry bitch.” 

Vance is completely naked now. He pumped his long dick while leaning over Erik’s lap to hope for Jodie’s lips to slip off so he could take over again. Jodie lets her throat get fucked, gagging only slightly before fighting it back down, eyes turned up to watch the pleasure on Erik’s face as she feels Erik’s dick stretching out her esophagus. Jodie moans around his length, reveling in the taste of Erik on her tongue.

“Jodie,” Vance calls to her while gently squeezing Erik’s balls, “put his dick in my mouth.”

“You want some more of his hard, thick dick? Here,” Jodie feeds Vance Erik’s dick, “Suck it baby…”

“Husband and wife working together...Jodie...let me see that pussy,” Erik showed her how wide his tongue is. 

Jodie climbed onto the couch, turning with her ass facing Erik before bending over on her knees. Her pussy lips are pushed between her thick thighs. Two slippery lips that he wanted to kiss. 

“Spread your cheeks so I can see all that pink pussy...mmmmm,” Erik hisses, “Pussy creamy as fuck,” Erik licks his fingers before resting them on Jodie’s protruding clit and labia. He loved how smooth and soft she is. It looked like chocolate and from the way she tasted on his fingers it was just as sweet too. 

“Come here,” Erik spoke firmly, slapping Jodie’s ass, “lay on your back and spread your thighs so I can finger fuck you.”

“Unh—“

“I wanna feel how tight this little pussy is.” 

Vance jerks Erik’s dick before slobbering on the tip of his dick, “It’s tight...she’ll grip you.” 

“That’s what I want, right Miss Jodie?” 

“Yes, daddy,” Jodie says with a lick of her lips. 

“There you go, baby boy, suck that fucking dick up, suck daddy’s dick up,” Erik demanded. He could feel his balls grow tight and he knew what that meant. He didn’t want to cum yet, not until he had his dick in Vance’s ass and Jodie’s pussy. 

“Erik,” Jodie called to him with a melodic voice. 

Erik watched her bring her knees to her chest, that pussy wide open and her slippery hole winking at him. Erik couldn’t hold back from rubbing Jodie’s clit back and forth before slapping it, causing her to whimper. Erik smoothed his fingers down her pussy before pushing two fingers inside, biting his lip at the way Jodie gasped. 

“Tight fucking puss,” Erik strokes with a curl of his fingers, “I’m digging baby?”

“Yess,” She cries.

“I hear that pussy,” Vance says with spit hanging from his mouth. 

“Come suck her clit,” Erik commanded. Vance and Erik got down on the floor between Jodie’s thighs. Vance spreads her pussy lips so wide that her labia stretched. Erik was astounded when he saw how much cream spilled from Jodie’s pussy. Vance’s tongue curved at the tip while he teased her big clit. 

“Clit big as fuck, Vance stop playing, suck that shit up. Clit nice and phat like that you better suck it.” 

When Vance’s lips wrapped around Jodie’s clit she moaned to the ceiling. Vance reached up to pull the cups of her bra down, her big, round breasts spilling over, creating a mouthful. Erik damn near drooled. He sucked one of her nipples into his mouth while his fingers played all in Jodie’s pussy. Vance was slurping loudly on her pussy and it had Erik slapping Vance’s firm ass. 

“Yeah, nigga,” Erik says, “Got the whole puss in your mouth, make this bitch cum...say, I’ma make this pretty pussy cum.” 

“I’ma make this pretty pussy cum,” Vance says before French kissing Jodie’s clit. 

“I’ma make it squirt,” Erik flicked his tongue on Jodie’s nipple before showing some attention to the other. Jodie gripped his dreads when he went back and forth with sucking her nipples. He had her thrusting her chest into his mouth. 

“Grip me like that again, go ahead, ima put my face in your pussy next,” Erik spoke roughly. 

“Eat my pussy up,” Jodie widened her legs, “There’s plenty...slurp me up daddy.” 

“Nasty bitch, I like you,” Erik was face to face with Vance, “Let me see how that clit fit in my mouth.” 

Vance chuckles before giving Erik some room to eat on Jodie. He helped him by keeping her pussy lips open. Erik was still working his fingers, practically stirring all in Jodie’s creamy cavern. Erik kisses Jodie’s clit, the pecks slowly turning into full blown French kisses that has him opening his mouth wide to wrap his lips around her. 

“Mhm,” Erik’s eyes rolled shut.

“Taste good, yeah?” Vance said while extending his neck to kiss Jodie’s lips, “That’s your pussy on my tongue.”

“Mmm, I taste lovely.” 

Erik spits on Jodie’s clit before working his tongue with so much gusto that Jodie and Vance watched with awe. 

“Ooooh, He’s stroking my pussy with those thick fingers...oooh, I’ma squirt…Vance, baby, he’s gonna make me squirt, baby,” Jodie grabbed for the back of the couch. She became spasmodic and Vance had to hold her down and kiss her lips to distract her so Erik can keep going. That bitch was leaking all in Erik’s mouth. He sucked her up again before tasting his fingers. Vance leaned over Jodie’s lap, getting some of Jodie’s pussy too. 

“Pussy is so goddamn good,” Erik gripped Jodie’s jaw, pressing his lips into hers, “I can’t wait to bust your shit wide open, let’s take this shit to the bed.”

Pulling his lips away, Vance stands with Erik, both of them picking Jodie up. She had her legs wrapped around Erik while Vance stood behind her cupping her titties. Erik bounced Jodie on him like he was fucking her standing. Vance kissed and sucked on her neck at the same time. All three of them took their fun to the bedroom. Jodie grabs some condoms from her dresser, begging to watch Erik fuck Vance first while she rode his face. Vance went to lay on the bed, his knees drawn to his chest. Erik was blessed with the sight of Vance’s tight asshole and heavy balls with his dick resting against his toned abdomen. Jodie climbed on top of Vance’s mouth, turning to give Erik the condom and lube. 

Erik spits on Vance’s asshole before sticking his finger inside. With his free hand, Erik jerks Vance’s long dick 

To keep him solid so he could have something beautiful and chocolate to look at while he banged his ass. Jodie was currently popping her pussy on Vance’s tongue, legs in a squat so her pussy could be nice and spread for him to suck up. It was a beautiful sight. Erik almost wanted to bust from that alone. Staring at Vance’s body now made him think about Adonis. He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. Adonis. Nice big lips, sexy rock-hard body, aggressive and competitive, sexy smile, chocolate eyes all intense at one minute then gentle the next, the way he fights…

“Erik I love the way your finger feels in my ass.” 

Vance’s words broke him out of his trance.

“Yeah? Ain’t shit compared to this dick, boy,” Erik removes his finger, grabbing up the magnum to place on his dick. Rolling it over his glans all the way down to the root, Erik applies a little bit of lube for some extra slip. Bending his knees, Erik forced Vance’s thighs back before slapping the weight of his dick against his ass, sinking inside of his warm, tight ass. 

“Damn boy...damn...ass tight as fuck,” Erik started grinding his hips, “Feel all that thick dick pumping?” 

Jodie looked over her sweaty shoulder and saw Erik’s fat condom covered dick thrusting in and out of Vance’s ass. She felt chills all over her flesh and the sexy moans against her pussy and groans from Erik made her cream even more. Jodie can see Erik and Vance’s muscles ripple and flex with their movement. Jodie turned around so that she could 69 with Vance, grabbing his long dick up and going straight at it with a bob of her head. Vance clapped her cheeks before eating both of her holes. 

“Fuck, that’s what I’m talking about Jodie, eat that dick up,” Erik pushes her head down further, “There you go, deep throat that shit.”

Vance was working his hips to take all of Erik’s dick, Erik caught that, rolling his hips to meet Vance half-way so that his dick could be all up in his ass. 

“Got this nigga working his hips to get all this wood,” Erik bites his lip, “ass is creaming already too.” 

“Mmm, I wanna see,” Jodie jerks Vance’s dick while admiring her husband's creamy asshole grip Erik’s dick, “Vance...baby...he got you creamy, mmmm, Vance.

Vance moaned into Jodie’s pussy with each suck. 

“That’s it baby, make this pussy cum...oooh I feel you tugging on that clit, make me nut baby,” Jodie’s eyes almost crossed, Oh God...Oh God...fuuuuuuckkkkkkk babyyyyyyyyyyy—“

“Face hella sexy when you bust, girl,” Erik wrapped his arms around Vance’s thighs and started ramming his dick deep, big balls slapping against his ass. Vance’s core tightened and it seemed to shoot straight to his dick because now he’s cumming in Jodie’s hand. Jodie licked as much away as she could but he kept on erupting. It was Erik’s pounding deep in that ass that had him making a big mess. 

“Oh shit, Erik, fuck,” Vance stared between Jodie’s thighs at Erik, “Dick is all up my ass——“

“I’m taking this ass?” 

“Yes, daddy.”

Jodie could not stop looking at Erik’s hard dick fucking Vance so good. Erik leaned over Vance, his naked chest and those gold chains hanging over Vance’s body. His dreads hung low and he bit down on his lip, working his hips fast and skillful. Jodie needed that dick in her pussy. 

“Ima nut again,” Vance’s handsome face crumbled, “Fuck, Erik, ima bust—-“

“Yeah, nigga, I’ma make that dick cum while I beat this ass up good.” 

Jodie cupped her pussy and rubbed it up and down to the sight of Vance shooting out yet another thick load. Erik pulled out and rocked back on his heels, watching the way Vance’s ass quivered. There is a creamy puddle beneath his ass. Erik removes the condom, walking to Jodie’s dresser to grab another. Rolling it over his still hard erection, Erik walks up to Jodie picking her up and wrapping her legs around him. Erik sits back on the bed, Jodie over him with his hands cradling her ass.

“It’s time to get in you now...nothing but dick deep in your guts…”

Vance stood up from the bed and jerked his dick watching Jodie grab Erik’s dick herself, squatting over his dick before lowering her hips, that thick dick nothing but a flesh covered pole for her to fuck. Jodie was up on her feet, upper body bending over so she could bounce her hips. Her ass cheeks clapped with each bounce while she fed her pussy some dick. Vance went to lay next to Erik so that he could have a better look at his wife handling Erik’s dick. 

“You see that sexy little pussy taking all this dick?” Erik says to Vance before his eyes zeroed in on Vance’s erection, “Dick long as fuck...tear some ass up with this.” 

Erik started Jerking Vance’s dick.

“Get that dick, ma, nasty ass bitch...got my dick all in that pussy...I bet that ass looks real juicy bouncing…”

“This big ass dick.”

Jodie’s cream coated the condom.

“Good dick…” She moaned, “mmmmm, some good fucking dick...so thick...Unh, so good.”

“She’s loving that,” Vance says before grunting from Erik’s thumb stroking his tip, “I love that fat dick too.”

“I know you do, baby boy,” Erik gives Vance a sexy smirk. 

Erik liked the feel of Vance’s dick in his hand but he couldn’t stop wondering how Adonis’ would feel against his palm. Is it thick with a little bit of curve? Does it have length to it for Erik to deep throat? Is it soft to the touch yet textured from his thick veins? He couldn’t shake it. He let go of Vance’s dick and grabbed Jodie’s ankles, picking his hips off the bed and serving her more dick. He didn’t let up on his strokes, knocking the wind out of her chest and making her shout. Vance took over with jerking his dick while his eyes focused on Erik’s powerful hips. 

“KEEP FUCKING ME!” 

“Make her cum, Erik...Make that pussy cum,” Vance said.

“Ahhhhhhhhh,” Erik gritted his teeth, “cum on this dick, bitch...get you some of this dick...she about her business look at her,” Erik and Vance watched Jodie work her hips on his dick, “bounce that shit.”

“Hell yeah, I love watching that big dick pound her pussy,” Vance leans over to tongue Erik’s neck. Erik gripped his chin and flicked tongues with Vance. He broke away from him to moan out. His balls contracted rhythmically with his dick and that was a sign that he was ready to pump his fat load all over their faces. 

“Get down on your knees, both of y’all, hurry up, fuck, I gotta bust!”

Vance and Jodie are on their knees and Erik stands before them, snatching his condom off before fisting his dick. All of that cum squeezed out from his heavy sack all over Vance and Jodie’s face, mouth, and wiggling tongue. 

“Clean this dick up,” Erik spoke with a gruff tone. Both of their tongues battled for a taste. The feeling of two sets of lips on his dick made more cum dribble. Vance took over and sucked him, Erik pulling his dick from his mouth to give Jodie some. He allowed his dick to swing back and forth for them to catch and suck. 

“Y’all gon’ have me fucking again,” Erik shook his head, “Damn...y’all love this dick.”

Watching them attack his dick had Erik satisfied but there was still part of him that needed more. 

Adonis was going to be trouble...if only he would accept his attraction for Erik so he could really show him how badly he needs him. Erik wasn’t going to wait too long either. 

@tgigoldie​ @soufcakmistress​ @chefjessypooh​ @chaneajoyyy​ @pananegra​ @theblulife​ @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah @eyeknowmywrites @crowngold @njadakillthiscookie @blktinkerbell @luvanxi @sheisexcellent1 @chocolatedippedinhoney @brandithecrystalgem @dababydababydababydababy @soulfulbeauty19 @btitannaaa @sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted @harleycativy @rbhp @thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone @palmstreesallday @skylahb @bakaris-shorty @nizzle-mo @truglori @queenflaws @ljstraightnochaser @theegoldenchild @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @nickidub718 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark  @abluesforlyssa @abeautifulmindexposed @fd-writes @chasingsunlight @sickaddiktions @munteanhorewrites @xo-goldengirl @tiava143 @33kiara@honeytoffee @asiasblackworld727 @momobaby227 @informalmelancholy @soulshinechronicles @hearteyes-for-killmonger @goddessofthundathighs @soulfxll @whazzzupmyhitta @seyven89 @lahuttor @janelledarling @shewritestheblues @fanfangal @kreolemami @thoughtsoftheantagonist @luvwitoutlimit1 @mygirlrenee @hippiesandpeacesigns @alittlejd @jaysaidhi @chaneajoyyy @walkrightuptothesun @shawnstacksss @theesotericqueen @mareethequeen @browngirldominion @ceeverse @therealmrsrhodes @sensitivelegend @cecereads209 @teheeboo @yomiloo @msreshel @bbygirrll05 @fahi0nanart @afteracouplepuffss @shaelyn102 @yaminax-kuss-a @lackbbaby @amyhennessyhouse @thattruckinwitch @dameshaemonique  @glittermakesmesmile @justgetitoverwith0  @notavintagecliche @pariahcolored @cydneyrenee4 @ajjiiaaahhhh @naeelyniecee @ambthegamer @efonteno @mikesteel20 @wisenerdcreator @draggingstxns @eevolsidog @xoxomyaah @asweet-serendipity @therealmrsmbjordan @ajspencer1892 @queengodiva619 @niqui87 @quietpoeticheart @itsjustyazz @dasia21 @woah-express @bbgiirrll @backandbetter2 @megabriahall @forbeautyandlife @queenflaws @queenbetter @yomiloo @daddys-baby-girl-t @lovinthemelanin @ladymac82 @ambitionwood @t3mporaa @toniilaney @iv0rysoap @sinfully-dope @lovehatecritique @chocolategirl605 @naysianaee @nyleveeee @erlebnissebliss @melinaasap1 @woahthatshitfat @that-chick212 @scarypumkin23 @sambuckyslayallday @vikki240401 @kuaua98 @enigmadivine @gingerylimonte @counterfeit-recherche @unholyxcumbucket @xdezaraex @missgigglesmoultrie @imrootingforeveryoneblack @dashhoney25 @oversorry @abluesforlyssa @honeybeejaes @admirehermind @wassuduoo @kaykay0829 @woahitslucyylu

[wondernimbus]

quidditch world cup — seamus finnigan

pairing: seamus finnigan x female!reader

request: Would you write a Seamus Finnigan imagine during the Quidditch World Cup where his crush sits near them during the game and has a tent near the Finnigans (and Dean) and when the Death Eaters attack and he and his crush hide from the Death Eaters together?

a/n: i changed a few minor details about the original request but other than that, enjoy! 

A palpable buzz of excitement still hangs in the air after the match has officially ended. Some of those rooting for Bulgaria trudge out of the stands looking glum, but most, although the team they had been rooting for lost, are just as excited as the Irish—or perhaps not as excited, but close to it. On her way back to the tents, [Y/N] spots no less than five fans of Ireland weeping tears of joy.

"You'd think they won a thousand galleons with how they were acting," [Y/N] points out with a laugh after coming across an Irish fan pounding his fists on the ground and bawling loudly.

Beside her, Dean Thomas snickers. "I bet a thousand galleons Seamus is somewhere going bonkers—oh, there he is."

[Y/N], with much difficulty, tears her gaze away from the bawling man and looks up. Sure enough, Seamus Finnigan is standing a couple feet away from them in front of his tent, wildly brandishing a pole on which hangs the flag of Ireland.

She can't help but laugh at the sight. "How long do you think before he starts crying?"

Dean nudges her. "I assume you'll be wiping his tears away when he does?"

"Oh, shut up."

Seamus catches sight of them when they draw closer. He stops waving his flag around and grins at the pair, looking the happiest [Y/N] has ever seen him. "We won, lads!" he yells, bounding towards them.

"Lads?" [Y/N] wrinkles her nose, fighting back a laugh. Seamus looks like a five-year-old on Christmas day who just got the toy broomstick he wanted.

"Don't mind his vocabulary, [Y/N]. He's half out of his mind," Dean says in a mock sympathetic voice, clasping Seamus's shoulder with one hand. "You good, mate? Sure you don't need to sit down?"

"Never been better!" Seamus answers breathlessly, eyes wide with mirth as he bounces slightly on his toes. "Never had any doubt Ireland would win—poor Bulgaria never had a chance!"

"Don't start crying on us now, Seamus," Dean sniggers. "Or at least if you do, do it on [Y/N]—"

"Seamus!" [Y/N] exclaims, cutting Dean off with a sideways glare. "The painting on your, um, cheek—it's gone a little messy. Would you like me to fix it for you?"

It's not a lie. The large four-leaf clover painted on Seamus's right cheek has gone smudged and looks more like a big blob of green than what it's actually supposed to be. He absentmindedly drags his hand across his cheek, making it even worse.

Dean snorts. "Oh, now you're just doing it on purpose—"

"Can't say no to that, [Y/N]!" grins Seamus. "Gotta show my Ireland pride. I've got a brush or two in my tent. Come on, you two!"

Dean gives [Y/N] a look. She smacks him on the shoulder and rolls her eyes. "What?" she whispers as they follow Seamus into his tent.

"You seem an awful lot like you're up to something," Dean grins, not bothering to lower his tone.

"Who's up to something?" Seamus asks, rummaging in his bag presumably in search for a paintbrush.

"No one," [Y/N] assures him, glowering at Dean. And then, in a hushed voice, "I am not up to something—I'm his friend, I'm just being nice."

Dean raises his eyebrows at her, obviously not convinced. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she turns to Seamus, who has successfully located a small paintbrush and bottles of green and white paint. "Here you go, [Y/N]—Dean, where are you going?"

[Y/N] looks back at Dean only to see that he's halfway out of the tent flaps, back hunched as though he'd been tip-toeing. He straightens up, trying very hard to mask the devious grin on his face, and shrugs. "I just remembered I had to, uh, meet with Lee," [Y/N] gapes at him in disbelief. "I'll see you two later!"

And then, with no more than a final annoying smirk at [Y/N], Dean leaves the pair of them alone in the tent. [Y/N] lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter, shaking her head as her gaze skitters back to Seamus, who looks just as perplexed as she does.

"Do you—um—" for some reason, some of the glee in Seamus's eyes dies out and is replaced by a touch of awkwardness; [Y/N] can see it in how his gaze darts away from hers. "Do you still wanna—" he gestures to the paintbrush and paint he holds in his hands.

[Y/N] has never hated Dean in her life more than she does now. "Of course," she sniffs, letting out a laugh in an attempt to ease the sudden burst of awkwardness now hanging between them.

Seamus hands her the paintbrush and paint, scratching the back of his head. "You don't have to do it really well, it's alright—I'm washing it off before I sleep anyway—"

[Y/N] lets out a genuine snort of laughter. "Are you sure?" she asks, eyebrows raised. "You seem like the type to show Irish pride wherever and whenever, even when you're asleep."

Seamus ducks his head in shame. "You've got that one right," he grins toothily. "Those blokes were amazing up there, don't you think? Never had any doubt they were gonna win—and Troy was bloody spectacular, did you see his goals?"

"They were hard to miss," [Y/N] agrees, amused as she pries the paintbrush and paint off of Seamus's hands and beckons for him to sit down on the couch, which he does, still rambling on about Troy—Ireland's best Chaser.

"Knew right off the bat he was gonna end up scoring the first goal—he's been training the longest out of all of them, see, he got signed right after he left Hogwarts and he's been under the Irish National Quidditch Team's wing for a decade!"

[Y/N] nods along, a smile playing on her lips as she dips the brush into green paint.

"And that was a bit of a daft move by Krum, don't you think, catching the snitch when Ireland was more than a hundred and fifty points up? Kinda' feel bad for the bloke, I bet his teammates are having a go at him right n—"

Seamus stops talking when she leans in close and places a hand on his cheek.

He swallows.

"Why'd you stop?" [Y/N] asks, pulling back momentarily and laughing.

Seamus swallows again, blinking rapidly. "You just. Uh, caught me by surprise."

She narrows her eyes at him playfully, smiling despite the blush coating her cheeks that she hopes to Merlin Seamus doesn't notice. "I'll be sure to give you a warning next time," she assures him, eyes twinkling. "You good?"

He nods, fidgeting around in his seat as he mumbles something about the Irish team.

[Y/N] leans in for a second time, hovering over him with one hand on his cheek to keep his head steady and the other fixing the painting of the four-leaf clover.

Seamus sits as still as he can, barely even breathing as he glues his eyes to a random spot beyond [Y/N]'s shoulder so he doesn't have to look her in the eye. In a lame attempt at conversation, he asks, trying not to move his lips too much, "Who—who were you rooting for?"

With her tongue darting out of her lips in concentration, she mutters, "Bulgaria."

Seamus's eyes widen almost comically. "You—what—" he blubbers, looking as though he wants to flail around in his seat. "Bulgaria?"

[Y/N] nods, jokingly scowling at him as she drags the brush across his cheek. "What, you don't want my filthy Bulgaria-loving hands on you?"

He opens and closes his mouth, looking at a complete loss for words. All he manages to get out is "Bulgaria?" in the same incredulous tone.

"Yes," [Y/N] laughs, drawing back to look at her creation. She places both hands on her hips as she tilts her head at him, eyes surveying the slightly better-looking four-leaf clover. "I think you're ready to go—unless you want to wash it off, since a Bulgaria fan drew it for you."

Seamus sits there, looking deeply offended at the notion of her supporting his favorite team's opponent. "I," he inhales, "am disappointed."

[Y/N] rolls her eyes, giggling in amusement as she sets down the paint and paintbrush on the table. "Cry me a river, Finnigan. Your team won, anyway—I don't see why you're so upset."

He rises to his feet, massaging his temples as though he's sporting a massive headache. "I'm very disappointed, [Y/N]," he admits, and she can't quite tell whether or not he's being serious. "You have everything—you're nice and you've got good humor and you're downright bloody gorgeous but you support Bulgaria?"

[Y/N] stares at him, the amused grin on her face slowly drooping as she registers his words.

"Bloody.. gorgeous?" she repeats, blinking.

Seamus's body turns rigid. He blinks rapidly, eyes wide like he's been caught in the act. "I didn't—"

Suddenly, a shrill, ear-deafening scream cuts through the air, louder than the celebratory hoots and whistles of the Irish. This one is filled with terror and fear and pain—the stuff of nightmares.

[Y/N] doesn't hesitate; she rushes to the tent entrance, dread blossoming in her stomach with every step she takes.

Everyone has stopped celebrating. The whole field seems to be at a standstill; smiles have fallen, the thrill of the Quidditch match forgotten as everyone stares up at the sky, where four people are being tossed about in mid-air.

"Are those—are those Muggles?" gasps [Y/N], horrified.

Another scream interrupts the deadly silence. And then another. And then another, until everyone starts screaming and running and the sounds of panic build up into a horrifying crescendo. Seamus tugs on [Y/N]'s arm—she hadn't realized she'd been frozen, transfixed at the horrendous sight above her.

"Come on, we gotta go—" Seamus is saying, dragging her by the arm. "[Y/N]!"

[Y/N] snaps herself out of her reverie. The tents are on fire. People are trampling over each other in desperation to flee to the forests. Her brain tells her to start running, so she does, Seamus clutching her hand beside her in a vice-like grip as witches and wizards alike push past them, shoulders ramming into theirs.

"Just keep running, we have to make it to the woods!" Seamus yells above the noise of panic; one of the Muggles in the air have started screaming—a woman—and loud, boisterous laughter ensues.

"Seamus, who are those people?" [Y/N] gasps, eyes catching onto the crowd of masked wizards standing beneath the Muggles. They're standing just several feet away from them, wands drawn as they march closer, huddled together in a pack. "Are those—"

"Don't look, [Y/N]—come on—"

Just before [Y/N] averts her shocked gaze, one of the wizards points his wand in her direction and a jet of green light rushes straight towards her—and it would have hit her right in the back if Seamus hadn't pulled her down at the last second.

Eyes wide with panic and her chest pumping with the adrenaline of nearly having been cursed, [Y/N] scrambles to her feet and lets Seamus drag her into a random nearby tent. "Stay quiet—don't move," he hisses once they've made it behind the tent flaps, crouching just behind the entrance.

"Seamus—were those—"

"Death Eaters, I think," he confirms her suspicions, gritting his teeth. "And they nearly damn cursed you."

[Y/N]'s grip on Seamus's hand tightens as she clamps her mouth shut, willing herself to stay as still and silent as possible. The woman's screaming intensifies and [Y/N]'s heart skips several beats when she hears it get closer and closer to where she and Seamus are hiding.

"Can't we just kill her already? Her screams disgust me almost as much as her blood does."

The voice is coming from right outside the tent. [Y/N]'s breathing gets quicker and she quickly covers her mouth with the hand that's not holding on to Seamus's.

"We are not here to kill—we are here to demonstrate," drawls another voice. "Let everyone see the powerlessness of these filthy, useless Muggles. It disappoints me how we have to resort to such means to prove an obvious point."

Seamus meets [Y/N]'s gaze; she sees her own fear reflected in his eyes. But even then, he gives her a reassuring smile, squeezing her hand in his as he mouths, "It's gonna be okay."

Slowly, she nods.

But then one of the wizards—one of the Death Eaters, her brain supplies not very helpfully—says, "Oi, do you see that?"

"See what?"

"That shadow. There's someone inside the tent—"

"Leave it. We are not here to harm magical blood."

"Shut up—who knows, we might get lucky and find ourselves a Mudblood!" Footsteps draw closer to their tent. Seamus and [Y/N] can do no more but crouch behind the entrance, eyes wide in mutual panic. "Come out, you!"

The tent flaps rustle. A hand pokes out—but then several screams cut through the air, and a sound like a powerful spell being cast echoes across the field.

"It's the Dark Mark!"

Several loud popping noises ensue. [Y/N] knows that sound; it's that of someone—or in this case, several people—apparating away. And then she hears four loud thuds outside, as though heavy bodies are dropping to the ground.

"I think they're gone," Seamus says, but his tone is still hushed.

[Y/N] doesn't pause to check. She unleashes her grasp from Seamus's and darts out of the tent, Seamus yelling behind her, and sure enough, the four Muggles who had been suspended in mid-air just moments before are now lying on the ground, eyes wide in terror except for the two young children who have fainted.

"Oh my God—"

"[Y/N]!" Someone—Seamus—catches her from behind as her knees buckle underneath her and her lungs seize up in her chest.

"Seamus—they—we have to help them—"

"[Y/N], calm down—"

She wrenches herself out of Seamus's hold and rushes to kneel down next to the Muggle woman, whose eyes have gone hazy, staring off into blank space. She doesn't even seem to have noticed [Y/N], who hovers over her, hands trembling, unsure of what to do.

Shaking, she takes the woman's hand in hers and squeezes, repeatedly saying something along the lines of "everything's fine, they're gone now" as Seamus stands back helplessly, wand in his hand as his eyes dart around the seemingly empty field of tents.

"[Y/N], we can't stay out here, they might come b—"

"What about them, Seamus?" [Y/N] cuts him off, gesturing wildly to the Muggles. "What are they going to do if the Death Eaters do come back? We can't just leave them here—"

Another loud, popping noise erupts through the air. All around them, familiar faces have appeared—ministry wizards. Seamus tugs on her arm and pulls her back to her feet, watching as the group of frazzled-looking wizards fuss over the Muggles.

"This is madness!" one of them exclaims, shaking his head in disbelief. Then his eyes meet Seamus and [Y/N]'s, and he immediately advances towards them, wand drawn.

"Calm down, Amos," another wizard says, stopping him in his tracks. "They're just children." And then, turning to the shaken pair, he nods. "Go back to your tents, you two. Everything's been taken care of."

"But—" [Y/N] begins, a thousand questions teetering just behind her lips, but Seamus mutters "let's go" next to her and tugs her along.

—

[Y/N] can't sleep at all that night.

She lies awake in her bed in her tent, the rest of her family already asleep. They'd been incredibly worried when she'd turned up outside of their tent after things had started to calm down. Seamus had insisted on walking her back, but [Y/N] had known that his mother must have been out of her mind with worry as well, so she'd told him it was okay.

Now, she stares up at the ceiling. Her hands haven't quite stopped shaking yet. Traces of the fear she'd felt before remain in her heart like an itch that just won't go away. She can't quite rid herself of it; the pure and utter terror she'd felt when she first saw the family of Muggles being tossed to-and-fro in mid-air.. the panic that tore at her heart when the Death Eater approached the tent she and Seamus had been hiding in..

She remembers being pulled to the ground as a curse hurtled through the air that had been aimed for her. She remembers the screaming. The vacant, unfocused looks on the Muggles' faces when the Death Eaters disappeared.

Suddenly, the tent feels too stuffy. She gets up out of bed and sneaks to the entrance, wanting to rid herself of the suffocating feeling in her chest with a bout of fresh air. She can't get out of there fast enough—she nearly trips over her own feet in desperation, and when she does tear past the tent flaps, she lets out a tiny scream.

"Seamus!"

Clutching her chest in surprise, she takes a step back.

Seamus is standing there, eyes wide like a deer in headlights before he drops his gaze bashfully and scratches the back of his head. "Hey," he says, raising a hand in greeting, but then he seems to remember that they're literally only three feet apart and drops his hand back to his side.

"Hey," [Y/N] says breathlessly. "What are you—what are you doing here?"

Seamus shoves one hand into his pocket, shifting a little on his feet. Quietly, he tells her, "I wanted to check if you were okay."

[Y/N] stares at him for a moment, unsure of what to say or how to react. The "I'm okay" rests on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn't have the energy to lie, so she just shakes her head and hopes to leave it at that.

Slowly—hesitantly, Seamus moves his gaze back to hers. "I'm not, either," he admits with a painful grin, fidgeting where he stands. "Can't really sleep. Too much thinking. Death Eaters and Muggles being tortured and.."

He inhales sharply, shaking his head. "You almost got cursed," he says quietly. "If I hadn't been there—"

"Can I hug you, Seamus?" [Y/N] cuts him off, and her voice sounds oddly pained. Like she's holding herself back from crying.

Seamus blinks, surprised.

"I'm sorry, I just—"

"Sure," he exhales, letting out a long breath he didn't know he was holding. "Sure, [Y/N]. Of course."

[Y/N] doesn't wait; she walks forward and throws her arms around him, gripping much too tight. She needs this. She needs something to ground her back to reality—something to pull her away from the dark part of her brain teeming with thoughts of death and torture.

It takes him a few seconds, but Seamus hugs her back. He may not know it, but when he wraps his arms around her and pats her back albeit a little awkwardly, he's bringing her back from the nightmarish part of her head.

They stay like that for quite some time. When [Y/N] pulls away, she wipes at her cheeks hurriedly and steps away, clearing her throat. "Sorry," she winces, trying for a small laugh. "It's just.. been a little much, is all."

Seamus nods, pressing his lips together. "Bit weird how just a few hours ago we'd all been losing our heads over Ireland winning, innit?" and it's a measly attempt to cheer her up, but [Y/N] looks up at him and smiles anyway. It's a little sad—a little off—but it's a smile nonetheless.

"I'm pretty sure that was just you," she tells him quietly, that same tiny smile on her face.

"Yeah, well at least Ireland won," Seamus retorts defensively, the same passion he'd been sporting a few hours ago making itself known again. And then he seems to remember that this isn't the time to be arguing about Quidditch; "Nevermind. Sorry."

"It's fine," [Y/N] assures him, a genuine smile breaking out on her face. "It's fine, Seamus. While we're at it.. you didn't finish telling me about Troy earlier."

[Y/N] needs to stop thinking about everything that happened, and she knows Seamus does too.

What better way to do that than with Seamus's passionate opinions on Ireland?

He seems to consider this for a moment. And then he folds his arms over his chest and begins in a theatrical, haughty tone, "You wouldn't know since you're a Bulgaria fan yourself," he says with feigned spite (or what she hopes is feigned), "But Troy is one of the best Chasers the Quidditch League has ever seen—he learned to fly a broom before he could even walk!"

"Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"Yeah, well, believe it. Anyways, Troy—unlike Krum—is plenty talented.."

[painless-innit-colourful]

‘Where I Go, Will You Still Follow?’ - A Clingyduo Fic from the Hunger Games AU

In the most ironic twist, I missed Tommy’s lore stream on Monday writing Clingyduo comfort/hurt (in that order). I wasn’t sure whether this fandom needed any more angst right now, but whatever, take this anyway. This fic is set in a Hunger Games AU where the characters of the Dream SMP reside in Panem and must compete in the Games. Only Tommy + Tubbo appear in this fic though. Angst reigns supreme on Reaping Day, where the boys face the possibility of being picked for the deadly Hunger Games for the first time. (Also I promise you don’t have to have read HG to get this.)

tw nothing really, they’re only being reaped here.

word count: 3102

On the morning of the reaping, two boys tread carefully through a desolate orchard.

At this time of year, the trees are mostly left to their own devices. In about six months their boughs will bear fruit, and there will be plenty of people scurrying to and fro beneath them collecting their bounty to be stored and sent to the Capitol. Those very boys will join them. However, on that late Spring morning there is no one about. During this season the trees require only the occasional pruning, and everyone’s still in bed this early anyway. No reason to get up on a day where you don’t need to. Public holidays like this are rare.

Tommy and Tubbo hold hands as they move through the trees. Old habit, they suppose, a defense mechanism against getting split up, for better or worse. With the number of people in their district it can make public gatherings hazardous for lonely children, and if there’s anything worse than getting caught alone in a stampede, it’s getting left behind in a chase. If one boy falls, so does the other. If one boy is caught with his hand in the larder, the other will be nearby. The two of them are a package deal: where one goes, the other follows.

They only stop when they’re sure they’re properly alone, deep in the orchard. It would take anyone hours to find them; it would take most people hours to get out from this point. But years spent traversing these paths - both from the ground and the branches above - have given them an instinctual knowledge on which way to go. They settle in beneath a large apple tree; lush and green now that the blossoms have since blown away. They go about unwrapping several grease paper packages that were previously weighing down their pockets as Tommy hums a tune to keep them company. Tubbo shuffles uncomfortably as they lay out a small breakfast of half a loaf of bread - dark and dotted with seeds, District 11’s signature - a petite disc of cheese that Tubbo suspects Tommy sat on at some point, and an apple each. Food they either squirreled away from the pantry at the orphanage or stole outright. The thought pinches Tubbo’s cheeks.

“What’s that sour face for?” Tommy asks him, flicking his eyes up every so often as he arranges the cheese on the bread with a tiny knife stashed in his boot and breaks the half-crescent of bread roughly in half. “You’re not still worried about getting caught.”

Tubbo sighs, and it tells Tommy all he needs to know. “C’mon! We covered our tracks and literally no one saw us.” When Tubbo’s expression doesn’t change, he puts a comforting hand on his friend’s arm. “Well, definitely no one saw you. I’ll take the hit for it, if they find out.”

“No, it’s- fine.”

“Your face says otherwise, my friend.” All the same, Tommy retracts his arm and finishes haphazardly spreading the cheese upon the bread. He nudges one of the apples towards Tubbo with his foot, “Here, start.”

“Excuse me, the apple comes after the main course, how dare you break tradition.”

“My apologies, my liege.”

The easy smile returns briefly to Tubbo’s face as they laugh, then quickly melts away again. Tommy fixes him with a sympathetic look. “What?” Tubbo asks, locking eyes with him as he finishes brutalising the cheese and hands him his half. “You’re worried about the reaping.”

“And you’re not?”

“Should I be?” When Tubbo gives him a sideways glare, Tommy shrugs. “Dude, it’s a tiny chance. Two in thousands and thousands. You’re more likely to get struck by lightning than have either of our names fished out of the bowl.” And though Tommy was likely skewing his numbers a bit, he supposed it was true. It was their first year of reapings and neither of them had taken any tesserae. They were about as safe as you could be between the ages of twelve and eighteen. Still…

“Besides,” Tommy continued. “If your name gets called, I’m sure someone would volunteer for you.” He barely makes it to the end of his sentence before Tubbo’s noise of dismissal drowns him out. “Yeah right. Let’s be realistic here.” Tommy leans back against the tree as he eats. Sunlight peeks through the branches at random intervals, illuminating him in softly glowing patches. He turns his head slightly and beckons Tubbo over with a nod. They shift their bodies and the food around until they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder between two large roots, and Tubbo finds that the sunlight is almost as warm as Tommy beside him.

They remain in that position for some time, eating their way through their swindled picnic. It’s a bit much for an ordinary breakfast, but it’s somewhat of a tradition to have something special on reaping day. Makes the hours standing in the square while the Mayor drones on about how it’s right to send two children to their deaths a bit more bearable. According to those traditions, you’re supposed to celebrate with a meal after the reaping too, though neither boy is quite sure where that convention came from. Not many in District 11 could afford it in any case.

At some point Tubbo drops a hand to the floor between them, and at some later instance Tommy places his where their fingers can interlace. “You’re nervous too.” Tubbo states without looking at his companion, instead remaining as he is, staring past the leaves to the clear blue sky. “No way.” Tubbo giggles at Tommy’s indignant tone. “A big man like me is not scared of being picked in the reaping.”

“Fearless he is, Big Man Tommy.”

“Too right!” They laugh, and the terror their giggles mask bubbles just beneath the surface, a pot mere seconds from boiling over. 

“Look, Tommy,” Tubbo’s voice becomes serious, and Tommy’s laughter peters out. “It’s all well and good laughing and joking about it, but… In the event one of us is chosen…” Their eyes meet and Tubbo squeezes Tommy’s hand, to which Tommy returns the grip. “I need you to tell me you remember our promise.” In response, Tommy sighs, drops Tubbo’s hand, puts that arm around his best friend’s shoulder, pulls him close and runs his free hand through his hair, almost all simultaneously. “Yes of course I remember it.”

“And?” Tubbo replies expectantly.

“And what?”

“Say it, you dummy.” Tommy places his free hand over his heart like a salute. “I, Tommy Innit, promise my dearest friend Tubbo Underscore, that if he is chosen for the Hunger Games in this afternoon’s reaping, I will not volunteer to take his place.” He waits for Tubbo to relax, satisfied, before tacking on: “Thus letting him be led away to a faraway place to be on television then get brutally murdered, also on television. “ He can feel Tubbo’s eye roll without even looking. “You made me promise the same.”

“Yeah I did, didn’t I?” He admits quietly, leaning his head against his best friend’s, brown curls obscuring half his vision.

“It’ll be okay, right?”

“Yeah.” Tubbo’s hair smells faintly of apples, somehow. Tommy squeezes his best friend and hopes he won’t have to betray him.

Unbeknownst to him, Tubbo has the same thought.

---

The duo spend the hours before the reaping as they usually do: sleeping in each others embrace somewhere they technically shouldn’t be, pretending the clothes they have to change into back at the orphanage are any better than what they’re changing out of, and hogging the second floor bathroom for way longer than necessary. The black storm cloud that is the reaping casts a longer shadow than previous years, but they manage to ignore it for most of the morning with enough shenanigans to fill their quota for the year. The clouds threaten to burst however when the time reaches half twelve, and the parentless teenagers of the district begin to make their way towards the square where the ceremony will take place. The once-blue sky darkens as the crumbling facade of the Justice Building comes into view, as if nature were waiting for her cue, and Tommy wonders if he jinxed himself with his earlier comments about being struck by lightning.

He’s holding Tubbo’s hand again - standard crowd procedure - and he’s thankful for about the millionth time that they’re the same age. They head with the other twelve year old orphans to the corresponding pen for their age group, and find themselves sandwiched in the centre. Tubbo exchanges a few words with some of their peers, most likely to be ‘Good luck’, but Tommy’s not really concentrating. The square is already full and still there’s many more people to come, and with every person that joins the crowd there will only be more cramming the possible tributes together like sardines in a tin. There have been crushes at reapings before; they tell them in school about the reaping for the seventh games, where too many spectators packed the floor and there was a panic that killed four people, including one kid in the crowd. In an ironic twist, their name was later pulled from the ball, and their escort had to be informed live on stage in front of the entire nation that they’d died earlier that day.

Decidedly, the odds were not in their favour.

Tommy doesn’t like to admit it, but tight spaces get to him. And here, packed in by bodies with camera crews perched high on the rooftops over the crowd, scanning for the faces that will leave the district tonight, he feels like a fish in a barrel. “Hey-” Tubbo’s voice reaches him through the din of thousands of people talking at once, but he sounds a million miles away. He practically crushes Tubbo’s fingers with his own, and, in retaliation, Tubbo flicks him on the nose. He blinks at him angrily for a second, the distraction welcome despite his show of annoyance. “Breathe, Tommy.” He forces air in and out of his lungs for about thirty seconds just to make sure he still can. Tubbo traces stars on the back of his hand.

By the time the Mayor’s stepped up to the podium and began his yearly recitation of the history of Panem, Tommy thinks he’s calmed himself down somewhat. Tubbo still traces stars in little pentagram patterns on Tommy’s hand with his thumb, and though it’s starting to get a little irritating, something stops him from signalling him to knock it off. He glances briefly sideways to Tubbo, and though his expression is mostly blank, the two have gotten used to watching each other’s tics and tells, signs that are imperceptible to anyone else but them. The small twitch at the corner of his mouth, the way he scrunches his nose slightly when he blinks, even the way he presses a little too hard with his thumb, his patterns becoming less uniform and the edges of his nails leaving little scratches. He’s as scared as Tommy. So he lets him keep doing it, for both their sakes.

The Mayor finishes his history lecture, reads the list of past victors and then finally introduces the District 11 escort, a spritely-looking man in a bottle-green suit called Montaque. He’s been the district’s escort for a few years, and Tommy and Tubbo used to joke his mustache was so spiky-sharp looking you could win a Games by using it as a weapon. He seems to glide across the stage as he gives a speech about District pride or some nonsense, then utters the classic phrase, “Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour.” 

He crosses the stage to the front where two glass balls sit, holding thousands of tiny slips of paper. A lump forms in Tommy’s throat. Somewhere in one of those balls there’s two slips of paper that could serve as their one way ticket to the Capitol. He knows they’re somewhat lucky: some kids their age have many more slips thanks to tesserae, but Tommy feels a pang in his chest even as he thinks about it. Some kids have parents. Some kids have somewhere to put their tesserae so it won’t immediately get stolen. He and Tubbo may have considered it, but what use would they have for grain and oil when on most days they could barely hold onto their bedsheets? It was one less thing to worry about.

Montaque the Stupid sticks one of his disproportionately-large hands into the first glass ball, and retrieves a slip of paper, and Tommy begs inside his mind, not us not us not him. He reads the name, and the entire world suddenly stops spinning. Somewhere in the back of Tommy’s mind is a lag, like when one person in a chain of people passing produce from a field to a wagon disappears. The chain does its best to keep up, but it’s very quickly overwhelmed, leaving debris in the form of dropped vegetables and a backlog that needs to be attended to.

That’s how it feels inside Tommy’s head as the crowd parts for him, a sea of people craning their necks as they shuffle aside to form a runway for him towards the stage. This can’t be happening. His mind can’t catch up to the fact, doesn’t want to catch up to the fact that this is happening. He glances to his side and immediately regrets the action, for Tubbo stands beside him looking equal parts shell shocked and distressed. Their eyes meet, teary and desperate, and Tommy only has the strength to mouth ‘Promise’, before his feet start to carry him towards the stage alone, and his hand in Tubbo’s becomes an outstretched arm. When they finally let go Tommy can feel the ghost of his friend’s hand in his own, and knows that it will be one of the last kind touches he ever receives. He tries not to think of that as he half-marches towards the veranda. He doesn’t look back for fear it’ll set him off crying, but if he were to, he would see Tubbo standing impossibly alone in such a huge crowd, holding the hand that held Tommy’s to his chest.

He mounts the stage and looks out over the people of the district he calls home, a tiny voice in his head telling him to make the most of this last time. Last time. He searches for Tubbo in the crowd, spotting him easily by the empty pathway he just walked down being slowly absorbed back into the crowd. He can see even from here the tears shining on his cheeks, the way his whole body shakes with the effort of holding more back. There’s a couple orphanage kids looking like they’re trying to console him, and, if Tommy should weigh in, doing a pretty sh’it job. He looks away to watch Montaque snatch the second slip of paper from the glass ball, and he tenses every fibre of his being shouting internally please please please. The name is read, and this time Tommy finds himself still breathing and present as some older kid makes his own shaky way to the podium. He’s about fourteen, with a stocky build that betrays work in the crop fields. As he takes his place opposite Tommy, the young boy is reminded that the Games will be full of people like him. Stronger, older opponents. Tommy, at the monumental age of twelve, doesn’t stand a chance.

The moment lingers, and then it keeps lingering, and then Tommy turns to Montaque to find out why the da’mn moment won’t move on. He’s staring out into the crowd once more, and Tommy’s heart, already too heavy, drops straight into his boots as he follows Montaque’s gaze. The crowd parts once more, and Tubbo strides forward, a shaky confidence marking his every step. The murmurs around the square hush, as he comes to stand mere metres from the tributes. Tommy wants to catch his eye, shake his head, scream at him to stop, but Tubbo doesn’t look at him. Tommy knows exactly what he intends to do as he opens his mouth; Tommy mouths the words along with him.

“I volunteer as tribute.”

Now you’ve gone and done it.

Montaque, biggest pri’ck on the planet, waxes lyrical about courage and bravery while he arranges the exchange of the fourteen year old for Tubbo. As if he’d ever know what it is to be brave. As the Mayor takes over once more, reading the Treaty of Treason as he is bound by duty to do, Tommy tries to catch the attention of his best friend, who’s acting annoyingly aloof. He watches as Tubbo stares into the distance, looking alarmingly calm with the whole ordeal. Tommy wants to scream, and do a bit more than scream and call him all the foul names he can think of and demand he un-volunteer and why? You stupid bi’tch absolute idiot why would you volunteer when we had a promise, why did you betray the promise? Why? Why why why why why?

As the Mayor wraps up the Treaty bore-fest, he motions for the two tributes to shake hands. Tributes. Now bound unrelentingly for an arena where they will kill other people. Other children. Maybe even each other.

Tommy feels some comfort in how helpless their situation is. Odds are they’ll die long before each other are a threat. They’re going to be a team obviously, and Tommy’s going to protect Tubbo as long as he can. That’s what he promised him the day they met, and that’s what he intends to do.

They shake hands, and Tubbo finally looks at him. The tears have dried on his cheeks. They take a little longer than is necessary, conducting a silent conversation between them.

‘Sorry.’

‘I am so fu’cking mad at you.’

‘You thought I would really leave you?’

‘I hoped I was wrong.’

They stand for the anthem. They are carted into the Justice Building to wait for people to come and say goodbye. No one comes. They weren’t expecting anyone anyway. They are all they have; all they’ve ever had. And where one goes, the other follows.

Tommy waits alone in the Justice Building, trying to figure out if the first thing he’ll do when he’s alone with Tubbo is hug him or strangle him. Beyond that though, he has to protect his boy. He has to keep his promise. An uneasy feeling stirs his gut. One promise has already been broken today.

And the odds aren’t playing nice.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Yamata-no-Orochi (Part 3) Betrayal

*kicks the legs out from under the table, one by one*

You’d been stuck for hours. It was extremely late but you couldn’t sleep. Caesar and Chu Zihang drove in circles before finally parking in an alley to wait. At first, it was all emergency vehicles -- Police, Fire, and EMS -- then there were many reporter trucks with satellites mushrooming from their roofs.

After that, the streets got very quiet and occasionally you spotted dark sedans driving far below the speed limit, like sharks on the hunt. Hydra was looking for Mingfei and Erii.

You lay in the back seat to keep hidden. You were still in your silver Cheongsam and heels. You stared holes in the back of the driver's seat and listened to the radio. Seventy six people were dead. Only a single person was injured. They were painting it as some wild street race gone wrong. People were describing fiery debris. Bodies, some of them in various degrees of dismemberment, were strewn all over the street. It would take days to recreate the scene. One of the things the reporters quickly picked up on was the lack of wounded. How could a car accident be so catastrophically fatal?

But the noise of the radio faded away in your mind. Instead you were remembering when you first saw Z. It wasn’t in real life. You first saw him in your dreams. When you were hurt or frightened by the nursery staff, Z would appear and ask you what you would like to happen to those people. If they stuck you with needles you would say, “I wish they would be stuck by a million needles.” And then watch as they were stuck, screaming and crying in pain, just like you were.

Or if you were beaten by the nurses, something horrible and perverse would happen to them in your dreams. Like one round nurse would swell up so big and red you could see her veins through her transparent skin and wherever you popped her she would bleed.

When you first saw Z in real life, it was the special day when you graduated from the preschool section to the adolescent section and started to use your soul skills in experiments. He stood tall and proud, his bright red-gold eyes gleaming at you. He smiled at you, a warm smile like he was the king and he could have picked anyone in the world but he picked you. That smile was a gift that beckoned you to run towards him. You thought it was a dream. But he opened his arms and hugged you.

In the back of the car, tears fell at the memory. You’d never been hugged before. Ever. A warmth spread from his arms and his body and filled you. It made you bright. It opened your mind and heart and let him in completely, without reservations. After that he was your best friend. Between him, you and Renata, you felt privileged, you learned quickly how to navigate your dangerous world and soon you were the oldest and most successful hybrids there. You were sure to go to the capital.

It was only at Anton’s death that Z showed you the truth, but he didn’t help you survive Black Swan overtly. You still had to watch your friends die. You assumed Z died too. He never reappeared in your dreams again until you nearly died in Chizuru and then you were so happy to see him again. But your relationship changed into something far more intimate. You didn’t know if you were ready for something like that. But he certainly did.

At least he never lied. He never explicitly said he loved you. He didn’t even say you could love him either. He said you didn’t know any better. Of course you didn’t. He’d groomed you since you were a child.

Remembering that made it hurt all the worse. A great shadow has fallen over your past. Now you had no happy moments to reflect on with Z. Everything was full of crevasses that hid questions and doubts. Like the boulders that would forever separate Izanami and Izanagi from each other in the underworld, you and Z were now irreconcilable.

“I haven’t seen a patrol in the past 15 minutes. Think we’re clear?” Chu Zihang asked.

“How the hell should I know? We take a risk if we wait 15 minutes or an hour.” Caesar responded. “You okay back there MC?”

You look up at him, his blue eyes reflected in the rearview mirror. “I’m pissed.” you growl.

“I bet you are.”

There was more to be said but now was not the right time.

You end up making it a room across from the hotel where Erii was staying. Lu Mingfei was waiting for you there.

Mingfei cracked open the door and then let you in.

“Take off your clothes!” Caesar said coldly.

His voice was so sharp and harsh that Lu Mingfei immediately did so, removing his shirt.

When Mingfei unbuckled his belt, Caesar snapped. “Keep your pants on… turn around.”

“Oh, you were so serious I thought I had to take off all my clothes.” Lu Mingfei said.

Chu Zihang and Caesar curiously admired the dense lines of scars on Lu Mingfei’s back. They were so numerous that you could not find a single unmarked spot on him. It was like he had endured a beating of a thousand strokes or had rolled over a bed of knives. Even Caesar and Chu Zihang were stunned speechless.

“Are you done looking? I’m kinda cold.” Mingfei peeked over and startled at the sight of you. “Ah! You didn’t tell me MC was here!”

“She doesn’t care, stop wiggling!” Caesar hummed. “Incredible self-healing ability. A trauma of this magnitude would take at least 3 weeks to heal even at a top-notch medical center. But only eight hours have passed since you were attacked. You should have bled to death on the spot.”

“That’s because the wound began to heal itself the moment he was injured. The blood vessels stopped bleeding on their own, so the blood was locked in the body. The cells filled in the wound by a high rate of division. Even the ruptured tendons were repaired.” Chu Zihang said. “This self-healing ability surprasses that of Chisei Gen and MC.”

Could this be why the principal rated him as S-rank?” Caesar mused. “If he always had this ability, wouldn’t he make the perfect meat shield? If we have another gunfight with someone, we can send him in front of us to Main Tank the damage while we lay down suppressive fire!”

“The so-called lack-of-childhood must have been an act, then? Boss, you’re so familiar with the term ‘main tank’. What do you play? Warcraft or Warhammer? Anyways, shut up about that, we’ve got a bigger problem!”

“We already know, even if you didn’t come to us, we came to you. Every news channel is broadcasting what happened last night.” Caesar grabbed the remote from the chair and turned on the TV.

You already knew the story, so you don’t bother watching it again. Something else was bothering you. Caesar said she was 21, and was staying at a love hotel, but he also said she was wrapped around his finger. Didn’t Caesar say that he was hoping for Erii to fall in love with Mingfei? The whole idea suddenly made your skin crawl!

“Caesar. Is it alright if I go to the bathroom?”

“Huh?” Caesar looked up from the TV. “Yeah sure whatever.”

You walk inside and shut the door and get as far away from the door as you can and lean against the wall. You cross your arms, your nails biting into your biceps. You understood that Erii was potentially dangerous and that was evident today. But all you could think of was Z’s gentle hug, his indulging in your punishment fantasies, the play time and the jokes. It was all fun until it wasn’t. You recall the souvenir Mingfei got from her after she rescued him, a little duck bath toy. You’d tteased him for playing with it. Mingfei said he would never bathe with a duck.

He wasn’t that much of a kid.

Fire like a kiln blazed in your stomach. This was the person Mingfei had wrapped around his little finger? As Caesar had so blithely put it? You flush the toilet and pretend to wash your hands and open the door.

The boys were already moving on, talking about something else.

Caesar was standing next to Mingfei and handing him a card. “Meet at Pier 7 in Tokyo Harbor. The address is written on this.”

“What if she loses control while on the ship?” Lu Mingfei looked frightened.

Caesar handed him a box of medication encased in a glass vial to Lu Mingfei: “Isoproterenol, a strong anesthetic. Give her this medication. It will reduce her vital signs to a minimum and she will sleep until she gets to China. Give her some glucose half way through the trip.”

“But she’s very weak now!” Lu Mingfei raised his voice. “Injecting a very weak person with a strong anesthetic and only living on glucose for seven days? What if she dies?”

Caesar patted his shoulder: “We don't want her to die either, but this is the most feasible way to deal with it right now. She is a deadly weapon that could get out of control at any moment. And we can neither continue to hold this dangerous weapon nor return her to the Hydra, so the only way to do that is to send her out of Japan. It would take a bit of a risk, but it would get her out of Tokyo, the center of controversy. She’s the strangest hybrid we know of, perhaps related to the awakening of the White King. And with her gone, it would be the equivalent of a dangerous element being removed.”

Wait a minute. This didn’t sound like Caesar. The way Caesar was talking about her to Mingfei was not the way he talked about her to you. The way he talked to you was that she was a beautiful girl and that hoped Lu Mingfei and the Uesugi Clan Chief would get together!

Mingfei seemed convinced by this however.

Chu Zihang spoke up. “Caesar and I have discussed this before we came. And this is the only way. Find an excuse to take her out and bring her to the dock tomorrow at exactly four in the morning. She trusts you and should agree to board the ship with you.”

Chu Zihang’s words were like a bomb going off. “Uh… excuse me!” You say.

“What is it?” Caesar asked, his voice slightly dismissive.

“Why don’t you just tell her the truth?” Your face was awash in indignant confusion.

“What? Are you kidding?” Mingfei squeaked.

“No, I’m not kidding! Caesar just said,  ‘make up an excuse’. You’re going to lie to her!” You lower your voice to a whisper but point sharply at the hotel across the street. “Do you think she’s stupid?! When she finds out that you’re lying, she will go absolutely nuts!”

“MC.” Caesar took a breath. “MC… I know how you feel but now is really not the time.”

“No, you’re being cruel. Mingfei, you should know better!” You snarl. “You are her only friend, her only one! You are under an obligation to be upfront with her or else you’re no better than Herzog! You should know better. All of you should know better!”

“Hey…” Caesar growled, his eyes darkening. “This is completely different. Don’t compare me to that asshole.”

“What if she loses it? You don’t know if she can handle that sort of information. She’s extremely mentally unstable!” Mingfei whimpered.

“There is nothing more destabilizing than being betrayed by the people you trust.” You stare at  Caesar accusingly. “After all this time, after all you know about me. You turn around and pull this?” You take a shaking breath. “She is a child.”

The room descended into an uneasy silence and no one moved or spoke. The only sound was the continuous rain on the window and the rumble of distant thunder.

“That’s your plan? Tell her the truth. Are you going to take responsibility for her going on a rampage after she hears that she’s dying? Not everyone is that strong, MC.” Caesar was completely expressionless. He only got this way when he was upset.

You take a breath and let it out. You start to speak and nothing comes. You shake your head, struggling. “The man who told me I was dying was the man who loved me.” 

You turn away and leave the room to regain control of yourself.

A few moments later, Chu Zihang exited with a box of tissues but he quickly saw it wasn’t needed. You were just staring blankly at the wall in the hall. 

“Caesar has decided to let you go. He wants you to stay with Mingfei tonight and go with them to the docks tomorrow. Take the ship to China with them.”

“What’s stopping me from telling her the truth on the way there?”

“Mingfei will drug both of you.” Chu Zihang said.

You turn to look at him and then immediately turn away, your heart sinking. “He views me the same way. So much for the ‘I'm not Godzilla’ speech huh?”

“Things aren’t always black and white. A lot has happened. You’re in obvious danger from something we don’t understand. You may not realize it but your mental state is not the same as when you arrived.” Chu Zihang’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “Your mind is going too.”

You just shake your head. “All I hear are excuses. Excuses for him to be a hypocrite.”

Chu Zihang sighed, and you see for a moment how tired he was.. “You don’t have any say in the matter. The decision is unanimous, not only between me and him, but also Lu Mingfei.” 

You drop your arms from your chest, limply.

He looked down at you, his eyes cold. “If you defy the orders, I won’t hold back. From your training you should understand what I mean.”

The door opened and Caesar walked out. “Alright, let’s go Chu.” He paused next to you, his eyes cloudy. “I care about you. I really do. But there’s too much you just don’t understand. We’ll talk about getting you back to Japan once this is all over.”

You look up at him and shake your head. “The key to my survival is in Tokyo. If I leave, you won’t see me again..

He reaches out to hug you and you let him. You take a deep breath of the smell of his shirt which still smelled of those fine Cubans. It might be the last time. He really did believe what he was doing was the right thing even though it directly contradicted what he said before. 

“Don’t say goodbye. I’ll see you later.” Caesar said. “Keep an eye out on the two love birds.”

He walked away and didn’t bother looking back.

You return to the room with Lu Mingfei and sigh. “What a mess.”

He laughed but there was no humor in it.. “Yeah no kidding.” He was holding a modified pistol in his hand, one of Caesar’s Desert Eagles!

“What… are you doing with that?” You shiver violently. 

“If she gets out of control, I will have to shoot her. The bullet inside is specially made to be completely lethal. Even to dragons.” He mumbled. His eyes were dark pools and you couldn’t read the emotion in them. “If, for some reason that doesn’t work, you’re to finish her off.”

“Will you use that against me too?”

After a long silence he continued. “Turns out we actually are going to be at war this whole time. Me and Erii were never going to happen. You and I were never going to happen. I tend towards being a human. You and Erii tend towards the dragon side. If we go to battle, we have to use all our resources against each other and fight tooth and nail. It doesn’t matter if you sit together on a Ferris wheel or… talk all night on the phone or… run through the streets in the rain.”

He lifts his head to you. “If that day comes, we just have to grab our weapons and fight.”

He looks back down at the gun. “You were raised to fight. It’s what you know. But Erii… she doesn’t know anything.”

Outside the window it was pouring rain.

[maximoff-pan]

32 (you’re blushing) and 33 “I missed something didn’t I?”) with Ginny maybe?

Prompt(s): 

“You’re blushing.”

“I missed something didn’t I?”

Character: Ginny Weasley x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Harry Potter

Word Count: 650 + (sorry it’s short)

A/n: Hope you like it! This was fun to write!

The majority of the Weasley children excluding Bill, Charlie, and Percy, and including some extra members of the family, (you, your twin brother Harry, and Hermione) are gathered, chatting in the cozy Burrow living room, when confusion suddenly strikes.

Hearing Ginny’s laugh makes you smile, a dopey, love struck smile. Of course Fred and George had just spent the last twenty minutes retelling a story from one of their many pranking escapades during their days at Hogwarts, and in true Weasley twin fashion, it was utterly hilarious. 

You can’t help the grin that crosses your features, and you certainly can’t help the words that come out of your mouth next. “Merlin you’re adorable.”

Ginny, being your girlfriend, reciprocates your smile, letting out another beautiful laugh, but this time, it’s much softer. “You’d always say that.” She quips.

Despite her confident demeanour, you know she’s slightly flustered by your comment. She always is, and she’s told you that several times. “You know me too well.” You bow your head at her. “And besides, how could I not find you adorable? I think it’s quite the impossible task Ginerva.”

“Oh don’t call me that.” She groans, as you let out a loud laugh at her expense.

“You’re blushing...” You sing at her, and she places her face in her hands. “Admit it, I have you whipped.”

“I admit nothing.” She laughs.

Everyone in the room joins in on your laughter, finding the encounter sweet. Everyone except Ron. He is absolutely flabbergasted. 

“Did I...did I miss something?” He pipes in as soon as the laughter dies down. 

“Mate.” George chimes. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly.” He responds. Ron has no idea what he just witnessed. “I missed something didn’t I?” He asks, genuinely confused. He turns to Harry, expecting a response, but he only gives him a wide smirk and a shrug. 

“Where the bloody hell have you been these last few months Ron?” Fred snipes.

The confusion on Ron’s face is still very much there. “I don’t understand, can someone explain to me what’s going on?”

“(Y/n)’s my girlfriend.” Ginny states happily, amused at the current situation. 

“Have been for three months.” You chime in.

“But....I thought you were in love with Harry?” Ron asks quizzically, still confused by everything going on around him. “I saw your diary.” He pauses. “Not on purpose, I promise! it was just open, and I saw you write Ginny Potter all over the pages, so I just assumed...”

Both you and Ginny break out into fits of laughter. Even Harry snickers at the thought. “(Y/n) Potter. Not Harry Potter.”

“I think we need to send Ron back to first year.” George jests.

“Yeah mate.” Fred quips. “I didn’t think your observation skills could get any worse...but here we are I guess.”

Ginny only shakes her head and laughs at the twin’s antics. “Well,” she starts. “This was fun, and very informative, but if you guys don’t mind, I’d very much like to spend some alone time with my girlfriend.” She turns her head towards Ron mockingly, putting emphasis on the word girlfriend, pointing between you and her.

“See ya later guys.” You salute at them, placing your other hand on your hip.

Ginny grabs your hand and begins pulling you up the long winding staircase leading into her room, but not before throwing Ron a quick wink and a grin. “He is seriously thick sometimes.”

The both of you have left the floor in its entirety, and the shock still hasn’t worn off of Ron’s face. “Hermione, is there something wrong with me?” He asks.

“Lots of things.” She jokes, and Ron only rolls his eyes.

“I mean honestly Harry. I seriously thought she was in love with you.”

Harry once again, doesn’t respond, only giving Ron a tipped smile, and a brief chuckle, waiting for the twins to jump in on the opportunity.

“Wrong Potter mate.” Fred taps Ron on the shoulder jokingly. “But, hey, don’t beat yourself up about this too much.” He grins wickedly. “George and I could’ve sworn you were in love with Harry too.”

[paperanddice]

Tears of the Crocodile God Part 4

Statues in Stasis

My alternate setup for area 6 is more standard to the immediate suspicion of the room, but means that more of the shields are likely to come into play, and that’s to simply have the statues animate and wield the shields themselves. Some of the shields would need some change to their effect to ensure that they always target the attacker instead of the wielder, but putting those on the monsters means that there’s a higher chance of them activating.

The next issue comes from making sure that the characters can’t just snipe the monsters from outside the room before they activate, and prevent them from just huddling in the doorway. A mechanism for that is to put the statues into a form of stasis until a creature spends a full minute in the room, at which point a number of them activate depending on how many creatures are present. Keeps the challenge properly in line with the number of players, and means that it’s highly unlikely that they’ll be able to easily huddle in a single doorway behind the highest AC members. While in stasis the monsters don’t take any damage from attacks, so shooting and fireballing them doesn’t do anything.

5th Edition

For a 5e version, my two runs used slightly different monster setups. The first was a small number of helmed horrors, the second a large number of slightly boosted animated armor. I feel like a better version would be a combination of the two, using the animated armors to hem in characters while a smaller number of elite helmed horrors use flight to get to vulnerable targets. Both may be a little low leveled compared to the party, but the effects of the shields will help change the tides of the fight a bit, as every missed attack against them has the potential for serious consequences. Give the animated armor +2 AC as long as they keep their shield, and reflavor the helmed horrors’ attacks as a slam instead of a longsword, and there isn’t even a visible difference between them until some start flying and are revealed to have resistances and better hp. Or be fairer and have some kind of distinction the players can recognize once they activate, like the horrors glowing or something. That’s really the better option unless you’re very close with your players and they trust you when you pull some tricks like that, but letting them waste a powerful and limited ability on an animated armor they think has helmed horror stats could be quite frustrating.

13th Age

I don’t know of any really conveniently leveled statues I could really easily slot in to this encounter, and adding some of the spellshatter shield effects to a monster built to function without them could bump up the difficulty a bit more than intended, so I’ll have to customize a few for it.

Child Statue 4th level troop [construct] Initiative +4 Heavy punch +9 vs. AC - 13 damage [special trigger] Spellshatter shield - Make ONE spellshatter shield attack. The statue’s shield disintegrates and it takes a -2 penalty to AC and PD. Limited use: 1/battle, as a free action when an enemy misses the statue with a melee attack and rolls a natural odd attack roll. Collect shield: As a quick action, the statue can equip an unused shield, recharging its spellshatter shield attack and gaining a +2 bonus to AC and PD. AC 21 PD 19 MD 14 HP 55

Empowered Child Statue 5th level blocker [construct] Initiative: +5 Shockingly heavy punch +10 vs. AC - 10 damage plus 5 lightning damage [special trigger] Shatterspell shield - Make ONE shatterspell shield attack. The statue’s shield disintegrates and it takes a -2 penalty to AC and PD. Limited use: 1/battle, as a free action when an enemy misses the statue with a melee attack and rolls a natural odd attack roll or when the statue uses intercept strike. Intercept strike: If a creature engaged with the statue hits another creature with a melee attack, the statue can negate all damage and effects of that attack and immediately make a shatterspell shield attack against the attacking creature as a free action. Collect shield: As a quick action, the statue can equip an unused shield, recharging its spellshatter shield attack and gaining a +2 bonus to AC and PD. AC 22 PD 20 MD 15 HP 75

Teenager Statue 7th level leader [construct] Initiative: +7 Shatterspell punch +12 vs. AC - 25 damage and all nearby statues have +2 to spellshatter shield attacks until the end of the statue’s next turn. Natural 16+: One nearby child statue’s shield reforms if it has been used. The statue recharges its spellshatter shield attack and gains +2 AC and PD. [Special trigger] Spellshatter shield - Make ONE spellshatter shield attack. The statue’s shield disintegrates and it takes a -2 penalty to AC and PD. Limited use: 1/battle, as a free action when an enemy misses the statue with a melee attack and rolls a natural odd attack roll. Collect shield: As a quick action, the statue can equip an unused shield, recharging its spellshatter shield attack and gaining a +2 bonus to AC and PD. AC 24 PD 22 MD 17 HP 110

Hag’s Lair

Statting up Old Beshebra and her sons shouldn’t be too significant of an issue in either system. Beshebra is a modification of one of the standard hag stat blocks, just designed to be a bit filthier and to tie her to her sons a bit more, and the sons themselves are a bunch of big brutes.

5th Edition

None of the released hags in the Monster Manual or Volo’s Guide fit perfectly with Beshebra, but given her shapeshifting and focus on claws the green hag is a good starting point. I used a night hag in my runs just to save time, but that really meant her primary action in both combats was to magic missile from a mud pit rather than actually engage the party, so I’ll level up a green hag, add some gross effects and the son related powers, and we’ve got our filth hag.

Old Beshebra Medium fey, neutral evil Armor Class 18 (natural armor) Hit Points 110 (13d8 + 52) Speed 30 ft. Str 24 (+7) Dex 20 (+5) Con 19 (+4) Int 15 (+2) Wis 13 (+1) Cha 17 (+3) Skills Deception +6, Stealth +8 Senses passive Perception 11 Languages Common, Draconic, Sylvan Challenge 6 (2300 XP) Devour Offspring. As a bonus action, Old Beshebra deals 15 damage to one of her sons within 25 feet of her. She regains 10 hit points. Earth Walk. Difficult terrain composed of rock, mud or similar surfaces doesn't cost Old Beshebra extra movement. Stench. Any creature that starts its turn within 5 feet of Old Beshebra must succeed on a DC 15 Constitution saving throw or be poisoned until the start of its next turn. On a successful saving throw, the creature is immune to Old Beshebra's Stench for 24 hours. Actions Filthy Claws. Melee Weapon Attack: +10 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 16 (2d8+7) slashing damage. If the target is a creature, it must succeed on a DC 15 Constitution saving throw or contract a disease. Until the disease is cured, the target can't regain hit points except by magical means, and the target's hit point maximum decreases by 10 (3d6) every 24 hours. If the target's hit point maximum drops to 0 as a result of this disease, the target dies. Change Shape. Old Beshebra magically polymorphs into a Small or Medium female humanoid, or back into her true form. Any equipment she is wearing or carrying isn't transformed. She reverts to her true form if she dies. Goad Son. Old Beshebra targets one filth hag son she can see within 30 feet of her. If the target can see or hear her, the target can use its reaction to make one melee attack roll with advantage.

As for the sons, a slightly modified shambling mound was the quick and effective solution. Just describe them as including crocodile and human bones and parts within them and you’ve got a filth hag son. Give the hag son the following additional abilities.

The son can understand Old Beshebra but can’t speak. New ability: Son’s Ire. If Old Beshebra is below 55 hit points, and the son can see or hear her within 100 feet, the son has advantage on all attack rolls. New reaction: Silent Fury (Recharge 5-6). If a hostile creature within 20 feet of the son hits Old Beshebra with an attack, the son can move up to its speed and make a slam attack against the triggering creature.

13th Age

The Bestiary has hags in it, and by great fortune they’re at just the right level for our adventure. The main thing is just to pick out the appropriate hag abilities and death curse to inflict upon the party. It may be a bit more work, but I’m actually inclined to give Beshebra a slightly different loadout of abilities depending on how the party encounters her. As a default, weakening touch seems appropriate. Disease, filth, and a deadly touch. If they’re slow and Syere falls victim to the hag, then the Annis skin ability is entirely appropriate, but otherwise she’s not going to be luring them in at all. In that case something like foul-touched may be a good second choice, reflecting what living in a literal pit of toxic mud does to a person. It’s not good. As for the death curse, how about something like, “You came to me and spilled my blood, your boots will always fill with mud.” Frustrating, weird, but not necessarily damaging. Seems to fit the bill.

As an extra skill, the hag could get the following ability: Devour offspring: As a quick action, Old Beshebra deals 20 damage to a nearby filth hag son and regains 15 hit points.

This keeps Beshebra in the fight a little bit longer, but doesn’t extend the length of the entire fight, since the total damage dealt goes up. Of course the hag would be fine with sacrificing her minions.

The sons are best done with a fully customized monster, as nothing in the SRD I’ve found fits for what I’d want. There’s no immediately obvious shambling mound analogue, and most of the monsters around the same level don’t quite fit. The Flowers of Unlife from 13 True Ways were an idea I had, but I don’t think they quite fit.

Filth Hag Son 6th level blocker [plant] Initiative: +5 Putrid Slam +10 vs. AC - 10 damage and 10 poison damage Natural 16+: The target is stuck and hampered (save ends both). [Special trigger] C: Furious tackle +10 vs. PD (one nearby enemy) - The target pops free of any creatures it is engaged with, is engaged with the son, and is stuck and hampered (save ends both). Limited use: 1/round, as an interrupt action when a nearby enemy hits Old Beshebra with an attack. The son can either make a disengage check to try to move to attack the enemy, or move to attack the enemy and only take half damage from opportunity attacks. AC 23 PD 21 MD 14 HP 90

That’s it for the monster discussion for these encounters. Next time I’ll discuss the Mold King’s Crown, the Chained Hydra, and the Mimic’s Parlor. One of those will be relatively easy, the other two much less so. Mold King’s Crown will be one of the most work intensive encounters in the adventure, with the number of hazards and mechanics around the monsters within it. Fortunately, half of that will come in a different post so I can focus on one part at a time.