#so now you have this cage and area already set up for me

[rosicheeks]

Oh I’ll definitely pull out a knife cutie and after I’m done destroying your holes I’ll take you home. No not your house your new home my house 🥰

-That one mutual

😳

[kotoku]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪ - ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ

synopsis - after making a decision, you pack up the last of the things your dear companion needs in the trunk. with your new friend secured carefully, you drive back home to organize all the new stuff you bought into your guest bedroom. hopefully they are liking their new home so far.

⋆˚🐾˖°

It had taken a bit of walking back and forth but you finally settled–

–on one of the doves! You wanted to adopt Sunday and his sister, Robin, but someone had already reserved her. ˙◠˙

With a grunt, you loaded the trunk with the cage, food, toys, and other necessities that would ensure Sunday’s comfort. He was placed in a little carrier with wide holes to breathe and see through, big enough to freely move around as you secured him in your passenger's seat. 

Throughout your drive home, you could hear him pacing around in his carrier. Your fingers tapped on the steering wheel as you would glance at him every now and then. You were starting to get worried about him, not wanting to cause a lot of stress for him on his first day in his new home. 

When you finally reached your house, you quickly unloaded your car and brought him in, careful to not tussle the box. 

Your home was pretty big but cozy. You had a guest room in case any of your friends were to come over, and two bathrooms, one being part of your room. Lucky you. You had decided on making the guest room Sunday’s new room so that he could fly around freely. 

Constructing the cage was pretty easy, it had a large space with some perches and toys for him to entertain himself with when he wasn’t flying around outside. You hoped he would like it. 

Carefully, you placed the box inside and opened it, closing the cage door so he wouldn’t fly out in a panic and hurt himself. 

“Sunday? You can come out now, I have your new home set up.” You watched as the dove slowly inched his way out, head tilting in different directions as he observed the area. You already left some food and water for him, organizing the rest into containers with a corresponding label. 

“Liking your new home?” You stared curiously as he climbed the walls of the cage, staring at you. Hesitant to move your finger towards him, you decided to show him your hands from a distance. “I’m much bigger than you but I hope you aren’t too scared of me, Sun.”

The dove had only continued to observe you before settling onto a perch, puffing his feathers out with his head tucked between his wings. Seems like he was ready to sleep.

With a chuckle, you brought out a blanket to cover his cage so he wouldn’t get frightened by any passing lights outside. With a soft ‘goodnight’, you closed the door gently and walked back towards your own room. 

—on a small, blond Norwegian Forest cat who had unique eyes. They were an extraordinary color, one you have never seen before with cats. Questioning the old lady about this, she could only give you a shrug, saying that he was rescued from an abusive home that adopted him from a breeder, so it could’ve been the breeder’s doing. 

Hearing of his past pained you, fueling your determination to give him a loving home.

Along with Aventurine, you bought him his necessities. Litter, cat food, a brush, etc… You even got him a collar, one that was quite pricey but glamorous, living up to his name. 

He was in his crate, his small body curled up as he peeked through the openings. Sometimes you’d put your finger near the holes for him to smell, his paw poking out as if reaching for you.

The lady had already filled you in on his vet details and history, providing you the necessary paperwork as you signed your consent. It was official, Aventurine was now adopted by you and placed in your care. 

“Please be gentle with him, he can be quite the troublemaker but he’s also a sweetheart. Come again soon!” With a wave goodbye, you brought his crate to the car which already had all his things in. 

The ride home was pretty quiet, it seems like Aventurine isn’t much of a talker. You smiled, finding his shyness adorable.

After you had put all of his things away into a guest bedroom, you opened his crate, watching as he slowly got out to stretch. He sniffed the area before cautiously walking towards you, smelling your out-reached hand before backing off, continuing to wander. 

You’d figured it would take some time before he got used to you. Standing up from your kneeling position, you started walking towards your room.

“I’ll leave the doors open for you to explore, Aven.” Of course, you left the bathroom doors closed, not wanting him to make a mess out of the toilet paper in there. You thought about the kitchen and living room, but there was nothing too dangerous for him to get into, so you let it slide. 

Cracking your door ajar, you crawled into bed, already changed into your pajamas. 

“Night, Aventurine.” You called out, hearing his footsteps pitter-patter against the hardwood floor. 

You hoped he would like it here.

—on a violet-blue ring-necked parakeet named Veritas Ratio. An odd name, but from what the lady had told you, it seemed pretty fitting.

“Veritas is an intelligent bird who requires much stimulation otherwise he’d get bored easily. He’s a bit standoffish, but he’ll warm up to you eventually.” 

…You were a bit nervous, but you were determined to build a bond with him. Birds have always fascinated you with their intellect and colors, their trust often being hard to obtain as they are both cautious and observant. When you were standing in front of Veritas’ enclosure, you made sure to read all the details and information about their breed so you knew what you were getting into. 

‘You’ve owned birds before, this wouldn’t be new,’ you thought to yourself, carrying Veritas to your car. The old lady was kind enough to walk you back to your car with all the necessities you needed, holding the bird food and toys while you carried the heavier things. 

After packing everything in, you secured Veritas in the passenger seat and started up your car, driving out of the parking lot and into the direction of your home. 

Every now and then, you would hear him flutter his wings, most likely stretching them as the carrier allowed him sufficient room to do so. It wouldn’t be long before you parked in your house’s garage, moving everything inside the guest room upstairs before bringing Veritas in. You could see him peeking through the holes, trying to get a glimpse of his surroundings.

“Let me set up your cage first and then you can come out, okay?” Setting him down beside you, you quickly got to work on building the cage, arranging some toys and perches for him. Once you were satisfied, you refilled his food and water bowl before picking up his carrier and opening it to let him walk inside. 

Veritas cautiously got out of the carrier, head tilting from side to side as he observed the cage. His eyes were pinning his surroundings, curiously walking around and climbing up the cage walls so he could sit on a perch. He turned his head to the right so he could get a good look at you.

“Hello.”

You slightly jumped in your spot, startled by the sudden greeting. You didn’t know he could talk, he was relatively quiet when you were in the store and during the car ride! Is he slowly warming up to you?

“Uh– hello! Welcome to your new home, do you..like it?” You felt a bit awkward talking to a bird, not really expecting any other answers from him.

“...”

Veritas didn’t say anything else, only continuing to look at you before he started grooming himself. You sighed, a bit relieved to see that he was comfortable and not stressed in his new home.

“I’m gonna head back to my room now, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Getting up from your spot on the ground, you draped a small blanket over his cage before turning off the lights. With a final goodnight, you gently closed the door with a ‘click!’, walking back to your room and flopping onto your bed with a sigh. 

–on a border collie named Boothill! He was quite energetic, sniffing all around you before sitting in front of your feet, staring up at both you and the old lady. 

“Boothill is a very protective dog, always following their owner and basically accompanying them during every task. He’s a sweet little fella, I’m sure you’ll love him.” The old lady gave Boothill a small pat on the head, offering the leash to you. 

“Here you are, young one.” 

Taking the leash from the old lady’s hands, Boothill immediately sat up and started dragging you around the store.

“B-Boothill! Where are you going??” You yelped, tripping over your feet as he sniffed around the aisles. He sat in front of a particular shelf, one full of dog treats. Ah, did he like a specific brand? 

Grabbing the one he was looking at the most, you read the label and ingredients out loud to yourself. The old lady had popped up next to you after you finished reading it, an apologetic smile on her face. 

“Sorry about that, Boothill can also be a little bit of a troublemaker.” She adjusted her glasses, looking down towards Boothill with a chuckle. “You naughty fella, don’t be too hard on your owner okay?”

Boothill barked in response, glancing up at you with his piercing red and gray eyes. He almost seemed to be making puppy eyes at you…

“I’ll get you this treat if it makes you happy, then.” You smiled, tucking the bag underneath your arm. You walked around the store with a small cart the lady had offered you, pulling different necessities off the shelves and putting them in the cart as Boothill strolled next to you. 

After paying for everything and getting all the documents you needed, you led Boothill towards your car and packed everything inside the trunk. He immediately jumped in the backseat, laying down as you buckled up and started the engine. 

“We aren’t too far from home, but be careful back there okay?” You glanced at him through your rear-view mirror, making sure he was comfortable before pulling out of the parking lot.

It took a while to move everything inside, but eventually, you had his little room all set up with his food and water. You let him roam around your backyard for a bit in case he needed to use the restroom, but he just came back to you after smelling around the fences and shrubs. Guess he was just getting used to his surroundings.

“Everything is set up in here, but I’ll leave my door open if you need anything.” You spoke, looking down at him as he sat beside your legs. You gave him a couple pets, moving to turn off the bedroom light before going to your own room. 

Unsurprisingly, he trotted after you, hopping onto your bed and kneading the comforter until he was satisfied. Chuckling, you pulled back the comforter and made yourself comfortable in your bed, feeling Boothill’s warmth near your feet. 

“Goodnight Boothill.” 

You heard a huff in response. 

⋆˚🐾˖°

taglist - @vash-yuu

[sweettea-and-honeybutter]

Take You There

A/N: I’ve been hearing in the streets that some of yall are tired of smut 👀 (my specialty 🥲) so I present you with a slow burn. I’m not sure just yet how many chapters there will be, and I don’t know how or why this idea came to me but I’ve fallen in love with the story. I also desperately need practice writing stuff other than porn because I have dreams of being a published author some day soooo all feedback is highly appreciated 💕 

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Reign Adisa (black female OC)

Summary: Terry gets inspired in so many ways by a tattoo artist. 

Warning: fluffy and angsty, no smut here so rated E

Length: This mf is 4.1k words long 😮‍💨🥴 my fault

Chapter 1

Wednesdays felt like her secret sanctuary, a rare calm in the whirlwind of her week. Most days, Reign’s life as a young Black woman running a buzzing tattoo studio in the heart of downtown Houston was anything but quiet—ink-stained hands, constant chatter, the hum of machines. Yet, in this moment, she savored the peaceful lull. 

The community had embraced her with open arms, offering support, admiration, and more appointments than she ever imagined this early on. Clients lined up months in advance, eager to wear her art, while others knocked at her door with résumés in hand. Reign was already on the hunt for three more artists to keep up with the demand. It’s been a blessing, but it’s also been overwhelming. 

So Wednesdays, Reign doesn’t take any appointments or walk-ins, she just comes to her studio to create, conjuring up beautifully original pieces to present to the world. Wednesdays helped her stay grounded so she didn’t lose herself in the fast pace of her career. They helped her hold on to her love and passion for her craft, it’s a necessity for her success as an artist. 

Her studio was a reflection of her soul—beautiful, grounded, and something she took immense pride in. She had stumbled upon the space by chance, walking through the warehouse district one sunny afternoon. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed by smooth cement walls flooded the open floor plan with light, offering her the creative freedom to shape the space however she desired. Now, a vibrant neon orange sign reading "Lotus Tattoo" glowed outside, inviting passersby. Inside, the walls were adorned with art from local artists, while plush oriental rugs softened the industrial feel. Scattered lamps cast a warm glow in the evening, and cozy seating areas and lush plants created a relaxed vibe. Bamboo room dividers separated the space for other artists yet to join her.

Today she walked in and began her routine that now felt more like a spiritual ritual which transported her to another world. Opening the velvet mauve curtains to let the morning light in, lighting incense throughout the space to cleanse the energy, turn on her brown sugar playlist so soft r&b can set the vibe, and opening the wide glass garage door at the back of the studio to let the cool autumn breeze in.

She took off her crochet cardigan which matched her shorts, rolled up the sleeves to her cropped Anderson Paak shirt, and swirled her copper highlighted braids into a messy bun. Pushing her glasses further up her nose, she sat at her desk and hunched over her iPad, biting her pen as she imaged how to bring more texture to the hair of the Caribbean mermaid she was working on. 

~~~~~~~~

Terry’s legs couldn’t stay still, pacing the length of his apartment like a caged animal. The space felt suffocatingly small, no matter how impressive the view of the city spread out below him. The constant barrage of honking horns and blaring sirens seeped in through the open window, filling his head with a cacophony that grated against his nerves. Overstimulated didn’t even begin to cover it. He let out a sharp breath, the simmering rage beneath his skin threatening to boil over. He hadn’t always been this tightly wound—once upon a time, people called him easygoing. But things had changed. He had changed.

He shoved his AirPods in, cranking the volume of "Killing in the Name Of” until the defiant shouts and pounding drums drowned out the noise in his head. As the music pulsed through him, he stormed out of his place, locking the door behind him with a sharp click. Instead of heading toward the elevator, he veered toward the stairwell, taking the five flights down two steps at a time, as if the rapid movement could outrun the memories chasing him.

Sure, everything had worked out on paper—the Shelby Springs police department was under investigation, the chief and a dozen corrupt cops were behind bars. Cases were being reopened, and lawyers from across the country were flocking to defend the victims of that backwoods nightmare. Hell, Terry had even won half a million in his lawsuit against the city. But what did it all matter? Mike was still gone. After pouring everything he had into saving his cousin, Terry was left with nothing but an empty victory and a gnawing sense of purposelessness. Lost, adrift, and suffocating beneath the weight of survivor’s guilt, he couldn’t shake the question that haunted him: At what cost?

As he exited his building, the midday sun greeted him with a mocking cheerfulness, bright and all consuming. Terry scowled, keeping his squinting eyes glued to the uneven ground beneath his feet as he mindlessly walked the downtown streets. He was so wrapped up in his disdain for life that he missed how people moved out of the way of his hulking form, how cops perusing the streets eyed him suspiciously, how birds scurried away from the sound of his thundering footsteps. 

He walked for 20 minutes in a straight line before his mind finally went numb enough for him to take in his surroundings. He wasn’t far at all from his home, but this side of the downtown had a different feel to it. The buildings were shorter and wider, the foot traffic was less obnoxious, and beautiful graffiti covered almost every wall. He spotted a building that stood out amongst the others with its pristine alabaster paint over the cement and its glowing neon sign. “Lotus Tattoo”.

It had been months since Mike passed, but the thought of getting something permanent to honor him had crossed Terry’s mind more than once—though he didn’t need ink to remind him of Mike’s infectious laugh or goofy grin. As he approached the tattoo shop, he slowed, his fingers brushing the door handle. He gave it a tug but stopped when he felt resistance—it was locked. For a moment, he considered walking away, but movement deeper inside the studio caught his eye. He lingered, torn between retreating and pressing on, before finally deciding to make his way around the back, curiosity quietly pulling him forward.

~~~~~~~~

She doesn’t hear him walk in through the open garage door, so immersed in perfecting the fine details before her, and Terry doesn’t wish to bring attention to himself just yet. He takes soundless steps into her studio, as if the building itself was emitting a peace so relieving that he could feel the pressure of anxiety roll right off his shoulders. He took a deep breath in, nose filling with the earthy scent of warm patchouli and sweet jasmine. Walking further into her domain, his eyes bright with curiosity take in his surroundings-a chipped and loved on mug, the soft rug blanketing his steps, the petal shaped ceiling fans whirling quietly, and he chuckled silently at her grumbles to herself.

He instinctively removed his AirPods and put them in their case, snapping the lid shut and startling the both of them. Reign straightened her back with a gasp, turning so sharply on her stool that her glasses flew off her face and she toppled over, just barely catching herself in a clumsy fighting stance, knees knocked and hands in awkwardly placed fists. Terry, for what its worth, looked like a deer caught munching in the farmers garden, pupils blown almost wide enough to cover the steel gray, mouth open in a shocked ‘o’, eyebrow twitching from trying not to laugh at her horrible stance and the fact that her glasses slid right to his feet.

“Um…” Terry didn’t know what to say as he raised his palms to her, trying to appear harmless, “I was wondering…do you take walk-ins?” Reign let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and placed a hand over her thudding heart, standing more relaxed but still on guard.

“You almost scared me to death! Yes um-“ she squinted at the ground next to her, trying to find her glasses, “-um yes, normally I do, just not Wednesdays-“ she was caught off guard again feeling a warm hand on her shoulder. When had he even moved? 

Terry stood so close that her nose brushed his shirt as she tilted her head to look up at him. He gave her a ghost of a smile and brought her glasses to rest on her nose, pushing her loose braids back behind her ears and studying her. “There.” His voice was so deep that she couldn’t tell if the goosebumps erupting on her skin was from the sound of it, or from being so close to him. 

They stared at each other a moment longer, him admiring her gold septum nose ring against her beautiful mahogany skin, and her eyes darting between his plump lips and striking eyes. Terry finally cleared his throat and took a large step back, raising a brow at her. Reign blinked away the haze he’d created, her voice coming out high and breathless.

“I do take walk-ins! Not normally on Wednesdays, but what were you wanting to get?” Terry looked away thinking, and Reign used that as an excuse to look him over once more, eyes roaming his heavily toned muscles. He was undeniably handsome, like fine as hell handsome.

He looked back at her and she tried not to squirm under his gaze. “I want to get something for my cousin, today was his birthday.” she watched his eyes darken to a murky green as his expression turned somber, “I’m thinking like 2 fists bumping together, can you do that?”

Reign bit her lip in contemplation and Terry’s eyes darkened even further following that movement. “I can, let me just draw up something for you. It shouldn’t take too long, how much time have you got today?” He gave her another ghost of a smile. 

“I’m all yours. I’m Terry by the way, you own this place?” She shook his extended hand and quickly pulled hers back, feeling heat rise to her ears and cheeks.

“Reign, nice to meet you Terry. And yup, only been in this studio a few months. I was working out of my home before.” His eyes were piercing, she felt see through, and turned back to her desk to start drawing something for him. “Gimme like 15, feel free to look around!” She called over her shoulder, and it took Terry a moment to move, far too interested in watching her. 

He walked around her space with purposefully loud steps, mindful of not startling her again and glancing at her every once in a while. He picked up a binder from a floating shelf in front of him, flipping through the pages to see her drawings and creative polaroids of her work. He found himself drawn to her black and white pieces, struck by how realistic her portraits are. He flipped through more and more pages hoping to understand how her mind works, how she was able to capture a moment in time so realistically.

“Terry!” Her voice calling out to him had him coming to her immediately, surprisingly eager to be used as her next canvas. “What do you think?” She put her iPad in his hands and he listened as she explained what she wanted to do with the shadows and fading around the edges, but his mind was going back to the last time he fist bumped Mike, the last time he saw him alive.

“It’s perfect.” His voice was tight with emotions and Reign watched his jaw tick at holding back all the things he wanted to say. She wondered earlier if she’d regret taking work on her off day, but sensing the grief coming from this man, it must’ve been divine timing that sent him to her today.

“I’m glad you like it. Why don’t you show me what size you want and where you’d like it?” Terry nodded and started taking off his shirt, and Reign took a surprised step back watching his body flex. He somehow looked even bigger now. She schooled her expression to be professionally indifferent as Terry pointed to his right pec, opposite his heart. 

“Here, and this big” he measured it out with his hands and Reign gave an awkward thumbs up, not trusting her voice just yet. She turned to print the stencil out for him and cleared her throat.

“Okay, we can do that. For that size my rate is-“

“I’ll pay whatever you want. I’m grateful you took me in on your day off.” Reign shyly glanced back at him over her shoulder and locked eyes with his very earnest ones. She gave him a small smile and continued on to prepare everything she’d need. 

Terry watched her steady gloved hands come up to gently press the wet stencil onto his skin, he bent his legs slightly to make it easier for her, and she whispered out a thanks. He didn’t say anything, transfixed by her presence, her gentleness, the sweet jasmine scent he realized was coming from her. He unintentionally flexed his muscles under her touch and watched her swallow tensely. He wasn’t unaware of his effect on women, but he liked that she was actively trying to remain professional. It was cute. 

“You wanna take a look before we start?” Terry nodded and she showed him to a mirror, standing behind him and off to the side, watching his face for any signs of dissatisfaction. She finally got a genuine smile from him, tiny but meaningful, as his eyes gleamed at the outline of the fists on his chest.

“I love it” he turned to her and she could see the smile had actually reached his eyes, and she returned it right back to him “I’m ready.”

~~~~~~~~

Terry, reclined in the comfortable leather seat, swept his eyes over Reign’s decorated skin while she worked on him, taking in the mismatched beauty and history of her story. “Did you do any of these yourself?” He asked quietly, referring to the artwork scattered on her body.

She pulled back from his arm to get more ink and glanced up at his face giving him a secretive grin. She was becoming addicted to his voice. It’s so deep, and quiet. There’s a heavy bass to it that could’ve been intimidating and over powering, but she could tell he’s choosing to be gentle and laid back. It was creating a growing intimacy between them that she hoped he felt too. 

“Mhm I did a few of these” she replied distractedly, now focused on putting more ink on her needle. 

“Which ones?” She liked his curiosity, and liked that he wanted to talk.

“Hmm I did this one on my thigh” she said offhandedly, now getting back to work, the hypnotic buzzing filling the space again.

He studied the imposing and fierce Medusa taking up most of her thigh, some of the snakes cut off by her shorts. The details were amazing, it almost looked like a Greek statue. Terry was impressed she did it upside down and it still looked stunning. 

He hesitated a moment, not wanting to upset the tranquil environment she’d created, but he wanted to know more of her story, now privy to the fact that the both of them have a painful past. He wants to know how she got to this point of inner peace, he wants to get there too. 

“Is it true?…what they say about Medusa tattoos?” She blinked at his question and her hands stilled, caught off guard, having gotten lost in the music still playing and the buzzing of her gun and the black ink on his smooth skin. 

Reign’s teeth worried her lip, biting and pulling as she debated whether to answer that or not. She chanced a look at his face and his piercing eyes locked with hers. She felt like a butterfly in an empty jar. Delicate, exposed, with nowhere to hide. Not everyone gets a Medusa tattoo for the same reason, but she knew exactly what he meant. She simply nodded and refocused her attention to the veins of the fist she’s crafting.

She continued working and missed the dark shadow that fell over his face. He was trying not to imagine what the sorry excuse for a human did to her, he was trying to ignore the urge to bring the matters of justice into his own hands. He was well equipped with delivering justice, and something about her let him know that she deserved her vengeance. She saw his fist clench from the corner of her eye, and she told herself he was reacting to the carve of the needle in his skin, not the weight of her truth. 

“I’m sorry that’s part of your story.” She gave him a surprised little grin, taking note of the gruffness in his voice she’d heard before.

“It’s not your fault. Besides, every protagonist experiences canon events. If this hadn’t been part of my story, I might not have this passion for creating safe spaces for people.” He stared at her face, her brows slightly furrowed and tongue just barely peeking out of the corner of her mouth. Most of her attention was on marking him with pristine lines, so her honesty flowed from her unfiltered. 

He took in the entirety of her studio again with a new perspective. The healing warmth of the sun seeping in, the calming music lulling him into a state of serenity, the sectioned off booths that created some privacy for her clients but not so much that they feel caged in, the art on the walls depicting black love and black excellence. Damn. She did a hell of a good job creating lightness when the world can be so dark. He found that inspiring.

He wanted to ask her more but “Take You There” began to play from her speakers, and her voice softly hummed along, she was lost in her own world and he was happy to let her be. It was interesting watching her work. She seemed reserved and shy speaking with him before, but now her hands moved confidently, her expressions changed as she concentrated, her scent was positively intoxicating and her braids tickled his skin every time she moved her face closer to his body. 

The pain grew more intense as she shaded a particularly sensitive spot above his nipple, and Terry groaned quietly, tightly closing his eyes and leaning his head back to rest on the seat. 

“I know I know, I’m sorry” Reigned murmured barely being heard above the sound of the tattoo gun, “You’re doing so well though Terry.” 

He tried not to react to that, but the mix of the pain keeping him grounded to her, and her sweet voice, it was getting to him. He hoped she didn’t look down any time soon. She had to roughly wipe the excess ink away from his skin before continuing, and he instinctively hissed at her through his teeth.

“I know soldier, we’ll be done soon” his eyes flew open at that and she paused to get more ink, looking him over. “I noticed the work on your arms. I’ve given my fair share of military tats” He nodded, forehead slightly damp from this whole ordeal.

“Do you wanna tell me about this one we’re doing today? Just if you’d like to share, I’ll be done in about an hour.” He didn’t say anything at first, just taking a quiet moment to feel the influx of emotions that bombarded him today, and she didn’t push him. Then he began to speak, gingerly revealing what happened in Shelby Springs, compelled by her peace to find healing in this moment. His eyes were clouded over, lost in the turmoil of his past, that he missed her frown of recognition. She’d heard about the horrors going on there in the news. Her heart ached for him.

She let him talk, and she listened intently as she worked, nodding and humming every now and then. He grew quiet and his whole face softened with his eyes closed as Reign drowned his freshly completed tattoo in the cold saline solution, gently wiping and repeating the process a few times.

She gave him a sad smile, so many thoughts swimming behind her eyes as she cleared the emotion from her throat before speaking. “All done” she tossed her gloves in the trash can, “lets go take a look.” She stood first, bending and stretching, her back popping from where it was curled over his body. Terry followed suit slowly, standing to his full height and stretching his arms over his head. 

Reign looked away quickly, walking over to the mirror to wait for him, begging her hormones to relax. This was not the time nor the place for this, he’s a new client for fucks sake. She shook her braids out of their messy bun to relieve the tension in her neck as she watched him approach from his reflection in the mirror. He eyed her form appreciatively, not at all subtle about it either, and she played with her hands, trying not to feel so small next to him. 

His eyes finally landed on his tattoo and immediately tears filled them. He hung his head silently as the tears fell down his cheeks and Reign panicked, not knowing what to do or say to help. She stepped closer, letting instinct guide her hand to gently rub his upper back. She peered around his body, trying to get a glimpse of his face in the mirror, and she watched his chest heave one deep shuddering breath. He brought big palms up to wipe his face before he looked up again, keeping her rooted to the spot with his sincere gaze. 

“Thank you.” his voice was so deep and swimming with emotions, and she felt a lump swelling in her own throat. He wanted to say so much more, but he couldn’t at this moment, feeling a dam break within him. He just stared at her, imploring her with his eyes to understand the impact of what she’d gifted him. 

She nodded, rubbing his back one last time before stepping away from him. “You’re most welcome Terry, thank you for trusting me with your story.” It was his turn to nod, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.  She turned away from him and went to find the wrap she would use to cover the tattoo, giving him some privacy with this new piece of his cousin he’d carry around with him forever. 

He made his way back to her when he was ready, and she began the quick process of covering his tattoo in protective wrap, explaining how to take care of it and telling him all the things he shouldn’t do in the next few days. Terry shrugged his shirt back on as she cleaned up the area they occupied, and he could fill a pit form in his stomach. He was hooked on her already, and the thought of leaving her so soon was bringing back the empty feeling he thought he’d left on the outside of her haven.

He sent her his payment from his phone, including an incredibly generous tip, and cut her off as she began to protest being paid double what she’d expected.

“I’d like to take you to dinner, Reign.” She froze, rich brown eyes wide behind her lenses. He kept going at her hesitation, “I’m pretty new to the city, and I haven’t met anyone worth knowing here until you.” He stepped closer, invading her senses with his provocative woody scent. “I’d love for you to show me all the places that make you happy, and I heard the quickest way to anyone's heart is through the stomach.” 

Reign smiled at that, it somehow wasn’t corny coming from such a fine ass man. “You got me there soldier” Terry smiled back to her and took her phone from her grasp, placing his number in it and shooting himself a text. He looked at her from underneath his lashes giving the phone back, and she swore she felt her knees buckle at the devilishly playful glint in his eyes.

“Is tomorrow night too soon?” She couldn’t resist his deep voice and overwhelming presence even if she wanted to, and her body had been growing warmer and warmer the longer he stayed in her space.

“I-I can make time for you” she stuttered embarrassingly at feeling the rough pad of his finger brushing her ear as he moved a braid out of her face.

“Good.” He walked backwards from her, hands in his pockets which seemed to make his biceps bulge, and he smiled softly at her “I’ll see you tomorrow pretty Reign.” he turned and she watched him saunter out the back of her studio, her breath returning to her when he was no longer in sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuuuuck I didn't realize writing something without sex in it was so hard 😅 idk if I have the stamina for a slow burn but I will certainly try, just know that the smut will come with a damn vengeance! Please let me know what you think! this is my first time doing an original character 🥲💕

Taglist: @teddybeerz @liatreads @eviescloset @sageispunk @planetblaque @soft-persephone @violetmuses @miyuhpapayuh @iterum-incipi @slutsareteacherstoo @blackgurlnhermoods @helloncrocs @megamindsecretlair

Part 2

[sundew199]

From a Distance

a/n: so this was a little hard to write ngl, kinda why it took me this long to get it posted but oh well. Again everything is consensual, though not explicitly stated

tags: zoro x f!reader, voyeurism k!ink, oblivious reader, voyeur!sanji, accidental voyeur!Law, fingering, oral f!recieving, cowgirl position, switching POVs

kinktober day six: voyeurism for anon

!!minors dni!!

Maybe Zoro was getting in his own head to think that he was being watched, the feeling of someone else's eyes but yours burning into his back as he dragged his lips down your torso. He'd been waiting all day for everyone to turn in for the night, thinking about fucking you nice and slow for a change as they were still on their way to Dressrosa at the moment. Rarely did he have an opportunity like this, and he probably shouldn't have settled for the bathhouse to enjoy said moment, but he didn't have enough energy to carry you to the room.

Swearing he double checked before pulling you into his lap, he chose to ignore it for the sake of your sweet little moans he was pulling from you. Your breath turned labored when the tip of his nose bumped your erect nipple, twitching from the barely there touch and sighing. Catching the reaction, Zoro flicked his tongue lightly, your head tipping back and breath slightly hitching. You'd had a long day and wanted nothing more than for Zoro to just to whatever he wanted to you, which is why he was so adamant about not being interrupted. It was hard to ignore what he felt like was an extra set of eyes watching you and him, and even worse that he couldn't even gather an idea of where they would be looking in.

"You seem distracted?" Mewling softly to him, running your fingers through his damp green hair, forcing him to turn his attention away from your tits.

"M'fine." Giving you a half smile, pressing another kiss to your sternum, flattening his tongue on the skin and inhaling. Your skin always smelled so sweet, even mores after the body wash you used. Zoro wasn't a fan of heavily scented things, threw him off in any situation, but you were the exception, always the exception.

Dragging you closer onto his lap, water sloshing quietly around your bodies, Zoro hummed when pressing his nose between your breasts, faintly scratching his nails down your back, taking the water droplets with him.

A small shuffle snapped his attention to where the sound was coming from, his single eye frantically searching for the cause of the sound but coming up with nothing. This was ridiculous, he didn't need to be this hyperaware of his surrounding like this, not when it was late and everyone was in for the night.

Keeping a steady hold on your hips, Zoro moved to the other side of the bath, sitting you on the edge out of the water, back facing the sliding door to the secluded area. Caging you in with his arms, he cupped on of your breasts in his hand, thumbing over the nipple and letting his mouth enclose of the other. You moaned a bit louder this time, letting your head fall back and legs bend at the knee on the edge, giving him a view of your glistening folds. His free hand swiped over the flesh between your legs, gathering what was already leaking and pressing it into your clit. Double stimulation had you feeling weightless and free, like your soul was leaving your body the way Zoro teasingly touched you so lightly and firmly at the same time.

Sanji hissed as quietly as he could, witnessing the brute that somehow got you to fall for him, touching you so adamantly, like he were now putting on a show. He wasn't trying to be a peeping tom like he currently was, merely an accident passing by the one window in the bathhouse that looked directly into the space you and Zoro occupied. You were so pretty, from your body to the noises you made, Sanji felt frozen where he stood, palming himself in his trousers and resisting the urge to give himself relief.

He worried with Zoro's acute hearing and sense of his surroundings that he would discover him watching and give him what he deserved. Truthfully Sanji didn't know what would happen if he was spotted, but he didn't want to find out, not needing to bruise his ego or face from his rival. Ironic that their rivalry played into everything between the two, strength, loyalty to their captain and now women. When you joined the crew, Sanji was smitten, more than he thinks he was when Nami and Robin joined. he attempted his advances without overstepping boundaries, but you were drawn to Zoro. As much as that hurt and annoyed him at first, Sanji wasn't a home wrecker and respected your choice. So why was he watching you get teased and fingered in the bath out of view?

Zoro glided the two fingers in and out of you with practiced ease, trying not to glance over at the where he saw the tuff of blonde for a split second, focusing on the slow drawn out moans you were releasing as the thick digits stretched you open. Telling himself at first that he was seeing things, exhaustion playing cruel tricks on him, but still not omitting the chance of that cook watching what he can't have.

"You never tease this much? What's gotten into you?" Your breathless question came, leaning back on your palms and raising your hips to his fingers working themselves inside of you.

"Just trying to appreciate you, but we can speed things up if you'd like?" Humorously challenging you with a knowing smirk, curling the two fingers deep inside you, watching your face contort.

"N-no, this is fine," Sounding like all the air had been sucked from your lungs as you spoke, making a shiver ascend up Zoro's spine, groaning softly as your arousal leaked down to his wrist like little raindrops.

Zoro chuckled, pulling you by the hip to get you to lean back a little more and make it easier to run his tongue over your aching flesh, kissing your swollen clit deftly and fluttering his lashes at the contact. Your dainty hand gently buried into his still damp hair, pulling at the roots just barely and serving as motivation to let his tongue now flatten over the bud.

His hums and groans vibrated your already sensitive flesh, kicking the volume of your moans up a decibel just enough for anyone watching or listening to understand what was taking place in the bathhouse.

Law sighed at yet another pitchy moan coming from the other side of the thin wall of the bathhouse, slipping further into the water and adding more regrets to forming an alliance with the straw hats. If he didn't need them to reach his goal, he wouldn't be here, listening to the moans and sighs of one of the crew members getting pleased by another. What an annoyance. Did none of the straw hats possess any decency?

Perhaps that was too much to ask for, unfortunate for him who was simple trying to wind down and ease the ache in his muscle before heading to bed. He didn't want to admit that the soft muffled noises you were making were doing something to him, stirring the heat in his gut and making him grit his teeth in annoyance in himself. You were pretty, treated him with kindness even after the events of Punk Hazard, so he didn't see an issue in his mild attraction to you. But he was better than getting off to Roronoa Zoro doing whatever it was to you to draw out those pretty noises.

Fuck it. No one would know but him.

The once soft grip you had on his hair turned intense, tightening at the roots and sending little licks of pain through his scalp as he remained buried in your cunt, working you towards another orgasm. Zoro was being greedy yes, but he also couldn't help himself for a number of reasons. One, because he saw that blonde hair flash in the small window again and instead of stopping and giving the two of you some privacy, he decided to put on a little show for the cook. You wouldn't know, so no harm done.

"Zoro - will you please just fuck me now?"

Ah right, he had to keep his focus on you no matter the little game he was playing with the curly browed perv. He frowned pulling away after lapping up the slick and arousal painting your thighs and pussy, irritated with himself for getting distracted. Zoro held your chin in a careful hand, slotting your lips together for a lengthy slow almost messy kiss, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip and pulling on it with his teeth.

Sanji rested his head on the wall, thumbing over the leaking slit of his cock, trying not to let the guilt of doing something so pathetic distract him from the expressions and sounds coming from you. He'll give moss head credit where it's due, seeing him work you into another orgasm right after the first was a talent, Sanji just partially wished it were him bringing you to that point.

He watched as Zoro sat on the edge of the bath, one leg still in the water and the other hanging off the side, his hands guiding you to sink down on his cock, ironically the perfect view for him. Was it intentional? Couldn't be, Zoro would never let him of all people catch a peek at the way he fucked you or how you rode his cock, it had to just be his luck at the moment.

Once your head fell onto his shoulder and Zoro's hands spread your ass cheeks as he guided you up and down at a moderate pace did Sanji feel the arousal surge in his veins, somehow stiffening his own cock more. Working his fist at the same pace as your hips, offered mild relief to the painful erection, forgetting that this was 'wrong' and that he should've kept walking down the hall. But fuck did you look good, the way you cunt stretched and swallow a cock was mesmerizing, ironically helping Sanji form his own little daydream of that being him and not the green-haired brute. He can work out his internal guilt and shame after, adamant about enjoying the display and not getting caught.

"Fuck you're so tight, riding me so well baby." Zoro muttered into your ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth and landing a searing smack to your ass, relishing in the squeaky moan. You were jelly on top of him, letting out airy moans and whimpers that sounded so drained of energy but yet so satisfied.

The sounds you were making as your hips moved up and down were enough to drive him insane and the cook, if he could hear them that is. Realizing that Sanji watching from a distance didn't bother him, but instead fueled his ego allowed him to remind the cook what he was missing and what he wouldn't have. Cruel? Possibly, but why would that matter to Zoro? You were his and even if everyone on this ship knew that, reminders never hurt anybody.

Law dug his teeth into his knuckles to the point he swore skin started to break, pumping his shaft under the water to minimize the alerting of his presence. He knew for a fact that Zoro didn't know he was in here, saving himself time by 'shambling' himself into the bathhouse and by luck, not the same one the two of you were in. He hadn't expected himself to...get to this point, but it was a little late for that.

Blame it on the crew of his mostly consisting of males to make him this desperate from accidentally listening on two peoples "time spent together" to have him getting off to merely hearing it. As long as he reminded himself that no one would know but him, he could drown in the saccharine moans and whimpers coming from you.

You'd given up on moving up and down yourself at this point, letting Zoro do it all himself as he thrusted up simultaneously, the very tip of him prodding at your cervix. You were in such bliss, equivalent to riding on cloud 9 to notice anything but the cock slamming into you repeatedly. Zoro always fucked you good, considering it a skill in your mind from the way he always left your legs shaking and numb.

"You gonna cum? Gonna cum from this?" Hearing him ask but not realizing it wasn't directed at you, nodding over his shoulder and sinking your nails into his scalp.

"yes, feels so good." Giving him a reply, unaware of your own obliviousness of the situation.

"Mm that's right, who's cock are you going to cum on?" The snarl and arrogance in his tone flying over your head, moaning with euphoria, tightening your walls and hearing the man below you grunt, sending another sharp slap to your ass cheek.

"Yours."

"C'mon tell'em who, who's cock are you going to cum on baby?"

"Yours z-zoro, yours."

"That's right." Laughing victoriously, thrusting up harshly once and moving to just slamming your hips up and down, skin meeting skin and slapping against each other, echoing off the walls.

Sandi's fist tightened around the head of his cock, panting with each pump he gave himself hearing your moans and ignoring the way you said Zoro's name and imagining it was his name instead spilling from your lips. It might've dawned on him that Zoro knew he was watching, but he didn't care, he was so close and nothing was going to ruin this.

Law lurched forward int he tub, letting out a puff of air as he rapidly pumped his cock under the water, his balls tightening as an indication he was close. So far gone from the slapping of skin and the way you unabashedly moaned and listened to the fellow swordsman's commands. A part of him wanted that to be him in Zoro's place, the other part not caring and just trying to bring himself to an orgasm so he could forget he ever stooped this low for relief. Argh, whatever! None of that mattered, he wasn't part of the crew so this would be a blip in his memory later from now.

Only aware of Sanji's presence and not the doctor they were transporting to Dressrosa, Zoro continued to find way to get you to moan louder and louder so the cook could hear, not knowing their guest was also getting off to they you were taking his cock and wishing it were them.

This was oddly satisfying for Zoro, all parts of it if he were to ever admit, getting to show you off and further reestablish boundaries and rank with the cook. What a sweet opportunity this was.

"Zoro, I'm going to cum I-"

"Me too baby, gonna fill this pretty pussy up, make sure my cum's leaking out and all down your legs." Sweetly kissing your cheek while eyeing the window where he knew Sanji was out of view, smiling against your skin and digging his fingers into your ass cheek, creating divets.

With every thrust, your walls tightened, fluttered around his shaft and begged for him to fill you. Zoro panted into your ear, growling under his breath and holding you down the moment he began to cum, painting your inner walls with his milky seed. Unexpectantly cumming much more than he anticipated, letting out a breathy laugh when he realized it leaked down his cock still buried inside of you.

Without either of them knowing, Law and Sanji reached their respective orgasm at the same time, stifling their pathetic pitiful moan's by biting their hands or knuckles, their minds not wasting a second for the post-orgasmic guilt and shame to wash over them. Though Law couldn't see like Sanji could, he could hear the low deep laugh of Zoro along with your feet planting flat on the ground, the swordsman playfully smacking your ass and going in for a kiss.

It was insane how Sanji almost stiffened up agains from the cum leaking down your legs from your pussy, how Zoro scooped some back inside you with possessiveness. Didn't matter in the end, at least now Sanji knew what it might be like to fuck you, if that were to ever happen, he wasn't going to dwell on that too hard.

Grabbing a towel from the rack and cleaning himself off, Law grumbled under his breath, making sure it was secure around his waist before 'shambling' himself out of here, not wanting to think or be near what just happened any longer, mildly disgusted with himself.

Zoro held the sides of your face once the towel was wrapped around your chest, making a little dress and kissing you sweetly. You were smiling into the kiss and so was he, but for entirely different reasons. And unless someone were to torture this information out of him, you'd never know, it'd be the three of theirs little secret.

[dfortrafalgar]

would you be interested in a more Platonic type fic? Like being good friends with Robin?

alternatively if it has to be romantic: Law being forced on a disaster of a date only to meet a super helpful (comic) bookshop employee and she starts seeming cute when he finds out she has similar interests? (Boy probably went into cardiac arrest at first when someone caught him not being broody)

hope this isn’t too much!

and you’re doing awesome!

thank you so much for your request, anon!!!! im actually going to use both of your ideas, but i started with the Law one because that hit seriously close to home. ive been on some absolute TRAVESTIES of dates in the past, and i needed to write law suffering through a similar fate or i'd die!!!!! I hope you enjoy, and pretty soon I'll post your platonic Robin request as well! I love writing platonic stories just as much as romantic ones <3

An Out.

Law x Fem Reader

Law made the mistake of letting his friends talk him into a first date… and now he desperately needs an out. Fast.

Warnings: an absolute disaster of a first date for our wonderful nerdy man. modern au, implied college setting, some mild slight suggestive language but nothing more than that

Trafalgar Law tried in vain to recount the series of events that led up to this very moment.

There was the dusty apartment floor discussion about how the med-student hadn’t gotten laid yet, which was followed by a raunchy comment about a girl in someone’s class, it was revealed that this girl was single (‘and ready to mingle’), and her number was forcibly input into Law’s phone.

For the week that followed, he was inundated with flirty texts from this girl he had never met in person.  He was forced to send her a picture of himself, mostly to get her to stop blowing up his texts every hour, and that was the next mistake in the line-up of unfortunate events.

Turned out she had a thing for facial hair.

Then, instead of getting pestered with general flirty messages, it was general flirty messages that were ramped up to a nine.  ‘I’d rip your clothes off if you give me the opportunity,’ kind of nine.

Law knew he was a virgin, but at least he wasn’t this desperate, nor did he have any inclination to be.  If anything, the texts he received from this stranger were making him want sex even less.

And yet… he was still pushed into this.

A date around downtown with this girl.  She clung to his arm, tried to loop her fingers into his, and yet had absolutely no interest in anything he had to say.  At all.

First red flag: she mentioned her ex.  Three times.  In four minutes.  Everything was about what he did wrong to upset her, no self-awareness to be found.  Second red flag: the clinginess.  Law hated public affection, but any attempts to urge her to give him space resulted in a childish pout and her arms caged around his, almost pulling him to the ground.  Third red flag: she couldn’t give two shits about Law, in any sense of the word.  She wouldn’t stop talking about herself.  Her looks, her clothes, her favorite music, her favorite shows to binge watch, her distaste for the area of the city they were in, her distaste for the lunch Law had [regretfully] paid for, her distaste for the speckled jeans he decided to wear…

He could feel the premature wrinkles forming in between his eyebrows the longer the date went on.  He was starting to wonder if he’d have to throw out the shirt he was wearing later.  It already reeked of the too-strong, powdery-scented perfume she bathed herself in.

“Where do you wanna go?” she suddenly asked, still tugging on his arm.

“I kinda want to stop by the bookstore before we leave,” he suggested, his feet already carrying him, and by extension, her, along the sidewalk to a small bookshop that had just recently opened.

“The bookstore?  What kinda guy brings a girl to a bookstore on a first date?!” she demanded, showing off yet another childish pout.  It wasn’t a good look on her.

‘A guy who knows this girl’s not getting a second date,’ he wished he could say.  Instead, all the snarky remarks stayed locked inside his weary brain, bouncing around like a caged lion desperate to escape.

The girl didn’t make any motions to ditch him to his nerdy reprieve, and instead followed on his heels as he pulled open the bookshop’s door, the familiar, calming scent of new books, fresh paper, and ink filling his nose.

“It smells gross in here,” the girl huffed.

Aaaand there went Law’s fleeting moment of peace.  Out the window.  Down fifteen stories and splattered on the pavement.  He needed to violently restrain the eyeroll that begged to appear.  His ocular nerves ached to be a dick in the pettiest way possible.  He inwardly hoped that by dragging this girl to the most unassuming bookshop would encourage her to leave, call a friend or get a cab to take her back to her home, but alas, she stayed glued to Law’s side like a lost dog.

She followed behind him as he blindly perused shelves of new and pre-owned books, Law’s feet subconsciously guiding him to the back of the store where he knew the comic books would be located.

If anything would turn this girl off for good, it had to be his love for all things superhero.  His comic book collection would dry her up like a dessert in a drought.  Or at least, it fucking better.

His eyes lit up as he approached the expansive comic shelf, immediately spotting the latest print of Sora: Warrior of the Sea- Volume 10.  It had finally been officially localized, and he had been saving some of his spending money for this very moment.  He eagerly grabbed the book from the shelf, thumbing through the pages.

“How old even are you?” jeered the girl by his side.  “Comic books are, like, little kid shit.”

“I’m five years old,” barked Law, refusing to look toward her as he continued to analyze the pages of his favorite series.

To the average onlooker, they both probably looked like complete jackasses towards one another.  And while Law was at least brave enough to admit that his behavior was certainly petty, he felt like he was warranted a Get Out Of Jerk Free card for all the painful hours of suffering through this atomic catastrophe of a date had put him through.

“Whatever, I’m going to find a bathroom,” the girl finally groaned, releasing his arm and trudging through the aisles of books toward the checkout counter to ask an employee where the bathrooms were located.

Law watched her go out of his peripheral vision, refusing to exhale a sigh of profound relief until she was completely out of his line of sight.  With shoulders that finally relaxed, free from the overbearing tension, he turned his focus back to the comic in his hands, continuing to thumb through the colorful pages of artwork.  He flipped the book around to examine the price, smiling at how reasonable it was.  He filled his arms with a few other comics from a series he had been meaning to pick up, and retreated toward the cash registers to buy his books.  The sooner he got his treat for this ordeal, the sooner he could get out of here, call this girl a taxi home, and spend the rest of his life as a willingly single comic book mega-nerd.

But reality wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily.

Not when the girl sitting behind the register thumbing through another copy of Sora Volume 10 was an absolute bombshell.

When she looked up at Law, her eyes quickly went wide.  She placed the book under the register counter and eagerly leaned forward, her hands supporting her over the counter.  “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice laced with worry.

Law cocked an eyebrow, confused.  “Yeah, why?”

“That girl you’re with is making you miserable.  You walked through the door looking like you wanted someone to grant you a mercy killing,” she huffed.  Her eyes were clearly concerned.  “Are you dating her?”

Law felt his guard dropping without even realizing it the longer he was in the presence of this cashier.  “My friends set me up on a date with her, but I’m having the absolute worst time of my life.”

The new girl’s own eyebrows angled downward in concern.  “Do you want an out?”

“A what?”

“An out,” she repeated.  “An excuse to get her to leave you alone.”  Time was running out.  At any moment, she could leave the bathroom.

Law frantically looked back and forth between the cashier and the small, short hallway that led to the single restroom.  With pleading, golden eyes, he silently mumbled, “Yes, please.”

The cashier kept her eyes on the bathroom door as she began unloading Law’s hands, spreading his books out on the counter to make it look like she was busy ringing out his purchase.  Law watched with an analytical gaze as she fumbled with his items, clearly buying time until the bathroom door opened.

He didn’t have time to ask what she was plotting.

The second the door cracked open, the man’s shirt collar was violently clenched in the cashier’s hands as she pulled him over the counter, smushing her lips into his.  Law’s fingers flexed in thin air as he froze, brain completely fried as he was frozen in this sudden kiss.

His first kiss.

“What the fuck?!” the girl screeched, exiting the bathroom in a frenzy as she booked it toward the heated exchange happening over the cash register.

The new girl pulled herself away from Law’s face, but only enough where she could display her best rendition of a weary, tired war-torn wife waiting on a cliffside for her husband to return.  “Baby, please just take me back!  My life isn’t complete without you!”  Her voice was cracking as she fake-wailed, her grip on Law’s shirt never faltering, not even once.  The few customers who also occupied the store turned to stare at the commotion, frazzled and befuddled.  “Nothing in life is as good as it was with you!  I’m in shambles!  You were the best sex I’ve ever had!”

It took a few moments for Law to catch on to the ruse.  As soon as he put the puzzle pieces together in his mind, however, he was grabbing the wrists of the cashier and bringing his lips back to hers, closing his eyes and trailing his arms up to grasp her face.  Completely disregarding the fact that they were still separated by the heavy check-out counter between their torsos.

“You were dating someone?!” snapped the original girl.  “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Law pulled away from the cashier’s lips, his own skin immediately feeling fifteen degrees colder from the loss of her contact.  “I wasn’t.  Until now.”

The new girl put her arm around Law’s shoulders from across the check-out counter, her deft fingers caressing his skin through his shirt.  “I’m sorry, but I’m taking him back, I can’t stand to be without him any longer!  The sight of him with another woman…” she made a show of clenching her chest, “makes me sick!”  She was damn good at this, in a way that almost made Law concerned.  The fact that she was pulling all of this out of nowhere, and the fact that her first course of action was this drastic, made Law’s heart flutter in his chest.

“Ugh, whatever.  This place sucks ass anyway.  I’m going home.”  She finally shouldered her bag and marched out of the shop, her feet stomping across the hardwood floor until the sound of the front door slamming closed finally made the cashier release her arm from Law’s shoulders.

And once again, the man was feeling oddly cold without the contact.  He glanced at her as she started ringing up his items for real.  “You’re… a good actor,” he blurted.

The girl hid her face in her arm with shame, an awkward laugh bubbling from her throat.  “I’m so sorry, I was trying to think of what to do to help you but when the door opened I panicked.”  Her eyes were focused on her work.  “I’ve been on some absolutely awful dates myself, so I understand.  Sometimes I’ve wished I could have Prince Charming swoop me out of the movie theater where a guy made fun of me for my interests the entire run-time.”

His jaw went slack.  “Are you serious?”

“Deadass,” she replied, quick as a whip.  “Insisted on holding my hand the entire time.  I think he was convinced that I had taken him to see a horror movie because I wanted to act scared in front of him, but his hand was so clammy and sticky the whole time.  And not in the endearing ‘Aww he’s shy!’ kind of way.”

Law wished at that moment that he had more charisma.  He was sure one of his friends would be able to pull a witty, flirty quip from their asses like it was nothing, but Law’s personal dictionary of flattery was nonexistent as it was.  He balked while he listened to the cashier who just took his breath away lamenting about her own poor experiences with dating, and he was sure that her example in this moment was only one of many.  Instead of continuing the conversation, his mind blanked.  He stated, more like whispered, “That was my first kiss.”

The girl’s hands stopped scanning his books halfway through.  Her wide eyes darted up to Law’s, her jaw slack.  “It… It was?”

“Yeah.”

Her hands flew to cover her mouth, eyes wide with shock.  “Oh my god… oh my god, I’m so sorry!”  She dropped her head onto the counter, covering her despair with both of her arms now.  “First kisses are supposed to be special and I just took your’s away from you…”

Law shocked himself by smiling at the weary display in front of him.  “If it makes you feel any better, that was far better than the date I was on.  But I’m sure you already knew that.”

She picked her head up, a trembling hand grabbing one of his last books to scan.  Her eyes nervously darted back and forth as she silently worked, once in a while sucking her bottom lip in with her teeth before releasing the flesh.  She was clearly lost in an intense inner turmoil.

“It’s really alright,” Law muttered, now growing shy himself.  He was just now realizing the gravity of what had happened… and how truly adorable this girl was.

She tapped a few buttons on her cash register before finally making eye contact with him again.  “You are a pretty good kisser… you’re really sure you’ve never done that before?”

He affirmatively shook his head.  “Never.  I’ve never been… popular with the dating scene,” he muttered.  “Hence this awful set-up date.”

The cashier’s eyes went wide again momentarily.  “That’s kind of surprising to me… I would think someone like you would get any girl you wanted.”

Law backpedaled.  “What does that mean?”

She pulled his total up on the small screen that faced him.  She was turning away from him as if to hide her face, her entire expression teeming with a child-like embarrassment.  “Well, you’re crazy hot, for starters.  And you like Sora, clearly.”

Law felt a smirk emerge on his lips.  “Is Sora one of your only qualifiers for a decent partner?”  He began to rekindle some of the confidence he had lost throughout the day.  The longer he spent in this girl’s presence, the more he felt the tension in his body leaving.

She grinned, the stress in her shoulders from her own actions finally releasing.  “Only guys with fluffy black hair and golden eyes that read Sora, if you want my honest answer.”

Now this was flirting.  Law had to admit, he was pretty pleased with this sudden turn of events.  The atmosphere this girl radiated was immensely calming, allowing him to chip through his reinforced walls just enough to feel like a somewhat normal person.  He started to wonder if she could break through his barriers even more.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, taking out his credit card and swiping it through the machine to finally cash out his order.

The girl excitedly revealed her name.  “And your’s?”

“Trafalgar Law,” he replied.  “I go to North Blue University for med school in the next town over.”

“No shit, so do I!  I’m getting a worker's license there,” she added, her expression shifting from one of moderate happiness to one of excitement.  “I doubt we’ve had any of the same classes, but we should hang out sometime!  Get coffee, maybe talk about Sora…”  Her voice trailed off, her eyes growing soft.  “Unless you’ve been completely turned off to dating after what you’ve clearly just been through.”

Law took a few moments to ponder over her words, watching as the receipts for his purchase slowly emerged from the thermal printer.  “I think I can make an exception this time.”

The smile that broke out on the girl’s face may as well have blinded him.  She was truly dazzling, even in her ratty-looking employee apron and an oversized T-shirt accounting for her work attire.

Law placed his new assortment of books into his own bag, the girl snatching his receipts from the printer and stashing one of the copies in the drawer below the counter.  When he looked back up, she was holding out his second receipt, folded in half.  She gave him a fond smile when he took it.

“I hope you’re able to relax later today, and enjoy your books!” she called, waving to Law as he exited the store.

Once outside again, the air felt clearer now that he was alone.  The day was still young, hardly a cloud in the sky and a pleasant breeze coasting through the city.  He looped his bag over his shoulder and opened the receipt, peering at what was written on the backside.

Call me for Sora… and for just me ;) <3 1125-354-9854

[mechaknight-98]

Beastmaster's Bond II (NSFW) FT Chaehyun

Author's Note: I just really like Chaehyun. Make sure to wish my happy marshmallow a happy birthday.

I winced as I watched Chaehyun leave. “You are in charge until I get back,” Chaeyun responded I faked a smile knowing this week was going to be Hell. She had awakened something inside of me and I was not keen on being caged again. When we lock eyes she smiles gently.

“Hey it will be okay big guy I'll be right back, and we can figure out everything then.” I nod and Chaeybyun leans into my ear.

“Then we can fuck all day and all night,” she says with sadistic smile.

“As enticing as that sounds. I kinda just want to cuddle when you get back,” I respond conflicted. She was a joy to be around when the hormones in my brain weren't telling me to fuck her endlessly. Which I could already feel building up. we raced to get her ready so there was no time to “meet either of our needs” We could see it in the other's eyes. We kissed to scratch that itch but ultimately it left us unsatisfied, but we held strong as I saw her off. I drove back home then back to the zoo to drown myself in work. The first week was easy enough without Marshmallow. Running the zoo was difficult at first and took up most of my time, but I adjusted quickly. By the second week, the possessive and restless anger began to set in. The time difference made chatting together harder for the two of us, but any time she mentioned another guy besides her father I'd feel this violent urge to say “You know who you belong to right,” and it wasn't from a toxic place but this weird place of matter of fact. Needless to say, I missed her, and it was taking a toll on me.

By the fourth week, it hit me and I was out of it. Marshmallow had gone radio silent because the area she was in had no cell service, but on a positive note, I had everything ready for her to move her Magnamalo in, along with having “restructured” the zoo to be firing on all cylinders. I balanced schedules and helped Xiaotang (Chaehyun’s assistant) learn about the zoo because I was going to be helping Chaehyun with hatching Elder dragons moving forward. I also got my passport. Which made me feel worse as now Marshmallow was just a flight and a few grand away. I considered booking it just to see her, to hold her, but I had responsibilities.

On the 45th day of Marshmallow being gone(and the 45th consecutive day of work), I take the day off. I took the time to do a different passion of mine Photography. I drove over the the Aquarium of the Pacific and took pictures within the area. Due to it being a random weekday aquarium was quiet. So I got to have time to think. The possessiveness still raged within me but it was a dull pain by this point and not the throbbing ache as before. While I spent the morning contemplating and putting myself at ease I was interrupted by a call. I took out my phone and answered it

“Ahoy,” I answer

“Hey, Daddy it's your favorite marshmallow can you pick me up,”

“That depends are you asking as a friend or as an employee,”

“I'm asking my Daddy to take care of me,” Marshmallow teased in a tone that sent a shiver through my spine.

“I'll be there in a bit,”

I arrived at Marshmallow’s apartment 35 minutes later where she was lounging on her couch only her bra and panties. As I walked closer to her I smiled at her cute expression. When I was close enough to touch I sat her up got on the couch with her and just draped my arms around her. Chaehyun smiled as she nestled herself in my arms.

“I missed you, Daddy,” she said content. I chuckled and replied

“As funny as this has been can I ask why you insist on calling me daddy?”

“Well at first it was to get under your skin but now it's kinda stuck like how you call me Marshmallow,”

“That was never to get under your skin. you're soft and pale like marshmallows. So my brain made the connecting the fire time we… connected, but you're also sweet like one so it made sense to me,”

“Wait so it's not an insult to my weight,” Chaehyun asked

“Heavens no I love Marshmallows they're great and you're great like one,” I answer. Chaehyun looks at me and smiles before kissing me. I could feel myself losing to lust but I wanted to enjoy our time together a bit more so I broke the kiss and ran my hands through her hair as we lay together.

After another half hour of this, Chaehyun began to grind her ass on my crotch. She did this at an agonizingly slow pace before I lost control and the lust I'd been holding back took over I unclasped her bra and pushed her panties down. Chaehyun mewls as I begin to squeeze and paw her pliant and soft body. I squeeze her thigh and Chaehyun moans aggressively.

“Fuck stop teasing me,” she growls as she gets on top and pins me down. Her eyes are hazy with lust.

“I tried so hard to stay focused but I needed you. I needed this cock in me,” she growled. I gave her a shit-eating grin as she began to stroke me, “So here is how it's going to go. You are going to fuck me until I'm satisfied then we're going go over to the logistics moving into together because I need you and this cock to put me to bed every night,” I smirked at her and replied

“What if I say no?” her vision goes red as she takes me. I groan at the softness of her pussy as it envelopes my dick. She starts grinding figure eight into my crotch.

“You couldn't deny me even if you wanted to. I see it in your eyes. You want me as much as I want you,” she says powerfully. Her voice and atmosphere resonate with a deep part of my soul. Something primal. I look deep into her eyes and I see that primal possessiveness mirrored In her. I flip our positions as I wrap her right thigh around my waist. I massage her tummy with my left hand and her right thigh with my right hand as I forcefully thrust into her.

“God how could I ever say something mean about your body it's just so soft and velvety smooth.” I moan. Chaehyun mewls as I continue thrusting. Chaehyun’s moans are music to my ears as we continue fucking. I alternate my arms and I grip her other thigh and breast.

“Oh God, you're so deep,” Chaehyun moans as I lift her hips slightly to get a better angle. Her pussy tightens around me as I continue thrusting. We lock eyes and I see hers clouded with an intense lust that terrorizes her. She can't stop herself from nearing her peak. “God breed meme fill my fertile pussy with your seed. Let's have kids together,” she screams. My body takes over thrusting into her harder and harder as I chase my peak. Hers hits her on the way there. “Oh my god. I'm cumming she moans as a wave of her juice crashes into me.” Her pussy tightens as I fuck her through her high, and she moans the filthiest encouragement to breed her.

“God fill me with your cum. Make my pussy spill it. Please give me your cum I need it. I need to feel full and make my belly swell. Make me a mommy. Making us official fills me up so much that I can't help but get pregnant. Make my tits swell and my stomach bulge with life, please. Make me a mommy make me pregnant,” Chaehyun moaned, and hearing her say all those things gave me the push I needed to climax. Five weeks of a needed release hit me all at once. I groaned as I flooded her insides white as I gave into her incessant breeding demands, but I couldn't stop thrusting. I needed to breed her more. I felt my body kick into a second gear and I flipped her over and began taking her from the back. Her pussy tightened delightfully as I yanked her prone body up.

“Oh yes,” she groaned as we

“Don't ever leave me again,” I growl at her.

“I won't ever again. I need this cock. I want this cock to fuck Me every day,” Marshmallow replied.

I nod as I grab her wide hips to thrust in her deeper. The possessive feeling reaches a new high, “I'll make sure of it. I'll breed you every day and night. You will begin and end your days full of my cum. Even when you're pregnant I'll fuck you. You're mine marshmallow and no one else.” Chaehyun moans excitedly at that before succumbing to another orgasm. When her body goes limp I realize I may have overdone it a tad. I pick her up and carry her to her bedroom. Well, mission accomplished I guess I think to myself as I wait for her to recover. She sleeps soundly on her bed as I lay next to her. She snores lightly so I adjust her so she can sleep on her side. Feeling her body naked body all over as I try to get her comfortable causes me to stiffen again, and I almost give in right there but I remember the time and place. She's probably tired from all the stuff she did. While she sleeps I field some emails for her about the zoo and play with my switch for a bit (I always keep it and my camera with me.) I let her sleep for a few more hours until I grew hungry. I put some pants on and walked into her kitchen to see if there was anything I could cook. Funny enough she had all the stuff from French toast and omelets. So despite it being almost 7:45 pm, I began work on “breakfast” When I was finishing up I heard the shuffling of her little feet. She yawned as she walked in now draped in the same panties and bra from earlier. Marshmallow looks at me and squints.

“You taller,” she says annoyed

“There's no way,” I reply. Marshmallow groans and goes back into her room before coming out with a tape measure. She walks over to me and uses a step stool to be closer to my head.

“Yep when we first met you were five-ten now you're six-one and three-quarters.,” Marshmallow teased. I looked at her confused. “I know every inch of your body dear and when we started today I had trouble hitting the spots I could normally get to now I know why,” she said with a smile. She looked behind me to see the food prepared. She swipes a piece of French toast and bites into it. She hums in elation at the taste,

“Ah mashta,” she mumbles as she chews. When she finishes she laughs, “Is there anything you can't do?” Marshmallow teased, I replied, “Talk to women normally,” Marshmallow replied with laughter as I fixed her a plate. After that, I fix myself a plate and we eat standing next to each other. I feel content and happy here with her. I never want this feeling to stop.

“Hey Chaeyhun,” I start

Chaehyun looks at me surprised,” using my real name you must be serious,” she says with a serious gaze. I nod and lock eyes with her.

“All that stuff about being together did you mean that,” I ask shakily.

Chaehyun smirks, “is that nervousness I hear? How unlike you.” Chaehyun teases in a dulcet tone that drives me wild. Feeling a little feral and done with teasing I lightly smack her ass and reply,

“Yeah now can you be serious before I fuck you stupid,” Chaehyun smiles as she takes a break from eating to stare at me

“What If I want you to fuck Me stupid, what if I want you to fuck Me stupid for the next week straight,” she asks I try to stay focused I try to fight my urges to pounce on her again and I hang on barely. Her body and voice are just so enticing that I always struggle to resist fucking her every second I am around her.

“Please Chaehyun I want to know where we stand. I…” Before I could finish laying out my worries Chaehyun kissed me with such a deep and passionate fervor that reduced all my worries into sad whimpers.

“You are mine Dinovaldo Bear, and no one else’s,” Chaehyun says with a lustful and possessive fire. She kisses me again with a ravenous hunger that she transfers over to Me. I join her in ravenous lust.

“And you are mine Kim Chaehyun,” I say before kissing her again. I rip her bra off and grope her breast before moving her panties to the side and plunging into her again. Chaehyun smiles seductively as I thrust in and out of her.

“That's it fill me again make sure my hungry pussy is always full of your cum for the next week,” Chaehyun moaned causing me to cum in her again. Chaehyun smiles.

“Oh someone liked that,” she smirks reveling in the power she held over me.

“Can you go again,” I nod then she does the sexiest and grossest thing I have ever witnessed. She put my last two pieces of French toast on her tits and said “Come Finish your dinner.” part of my brain was repulsed but damn was it hot. I got down to her right tit first and lapped up the soggy bread and sucked on her syrupy nipple. Chaehyun moaned as I feasted on her body. I have never experimented with food play (or many kinks for that manner) but Chaehyun brought out this ferocity in me that thrilled and frightened me. The passion and desire were there but what if in my zeal I hurt her was something that plagued my mind. As multiple people had mentioned multiple times at this point; I was stronger and taller than I had been before. this meant that I had to readjust to my new strength which would make things awkward. as if sensing my hesitation while I devour her other tit and remaining French toast she said, "Come on Rex, be rough with me I can take it. I'm not delicate. I'm as tough as you are." Rex did it for me. I grabbed her waist and laid her flat on the ground as I thrust into her. we rut in syncopating rhythms clawing and marking each other as our own as we chase another mutual high. Chaehyun (with the help of some groping here and there) reached her release first and came violently. I was so caught up in her body that I hadn't realized she was also milking another orgasm out of me as well. As we basked in the afterglow I smiled at her. She smiled back. "You liked that Rex thing huh?"

"you bet Tiger," I say in the spur of the moment as her hair falls over her face making it look like tiger stripes. I was unprepared for her pussy to tighten at that.

"Ooh someone likes that," I tease. Chaehyun growls and flips me over as she begins to ride me. her pussy demanding I get hard once again. Unable to resist any of her demands my body complies and I let her ride another orgasm. She lifts her head in ecstasy as she says, "Call me that again. I'm your tiger, your white tiger," she says losing herself further to pleasure,

"Does my tiger like her new nickname," I ask as she rides me. Chaehyun tightens again and moans as she comes again. I push her off of me and she growls at me. Her eyes are full of hungry lust. as she rubs her body seductively. she crawls to me and corners me in her kitchen,

"More," rolls seductively off her lips. Something in our body chemistry feels like it's changed because her scent is this intoxicating and arousing mix of cinnamon and her natural musk and I am hard again.

"What the fuck are you doing to me," I growl as I pick her up to fuck her again? her walls as usual provide no resistance as I slide into her. she moans in ecstasy. her velvety walls accept me with no effort as I thrust in and out. His body is perfect for me. the perfect softness the perfect taste the perfect smell. the perfect woman. I gaze deep into her eyes before kissing her again. her mouth relents to my force as I explore the cavern myself before she moans and cums again.

"Rex give it to me. I need it. Make me your mate forever breed me. breed me again and again,” she says and I moan as I paint her insides white again. I watch as she rides out my orgasm trying to steal as much of my cum as possible. When we relax Chaehyun gets up and has me follow her to the bathroom. She showed me all of her contraceptives. She promptly throws them out.

That signal move changed something in me. A part of me I never knew was there awoken. I walked up to Chaehyun. I run my hands over her every curve and get lost in her eyes. I see many emotions reflecting in her eyes but the one that to me the most is vulnerability. She knows this is a risk but is willing to choose to submit to me as hers. My response is simple,

“You are Mine, and I am yours,” Chaehyun nodded desperately before she replied

“Yes, yes, yes. Please don't leave me.”

“Not a chance, but do be aware once we go down this road please know I'm a greedy and selfish lover there will be no sharing,” I reply. In my attempt to be seductive, it came out sounding abusive so I quickly tried to remedy that.

“WAIT that came out wrong. What I meant to say is that if we are doing this it's all in there's no open relationship no side pieces. We are together,” I reply. Chaehyun smiles and then says,

“I wouldn't have it any other way.”

[dumbkiri]

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝟐

Highly requested and I am so sorry it took forever to get this out. I'm still a bit unhappy with this work and I need to get back into the Batboys and their behaviors lol

For now enjoy this part two of Blood Siblings

"You need to strike with more force, [Name]. I haven't seen you this bored since Damian left," Her instructor, Ali, looked at her with his dark brown eyes. His arms fell down at his sides and he set the bottom of his staff down. “Is there anything you-”

“I saw my brother when I left for that short period of time,” [Name] said with her head held down in shame. Her eyes had shown conflict swirling around in the light of the early sun. Her mind was elsewhere and not in her morning training. Her hands wrapped up in white tape screamed at her to use them to fight. 

Her hands knew nothing besides fighting and killing.

Not even the feeling of someone holding it with care and security. 

“And I saw my father. Zhao was going to kill them, but I put a stop to it.” 

She looked up at her instructor and he had his mouth wide open. Then he walked up to her at a brisk pace and set his hands on her shoulder, he whispered, “Does your mother know about this? If she finds out—“ 

“I can handle her punishment, Ali, so there’s no need to worry.” [Name] said looking up at Ali to reassure him. Talia wasn’t the greatest mother, she rarely showed any affection toward her. But she did have her moments. “Damian looked at me in disgust as if I was the one who did something bad. I killed our enemy and saved them by being overrun. So why?” 

Ali moved back and set his hands on his hips in thought. He put his hand under his chin and said, “It’s because he doesn’t have that drive to kill anymore. We don’t have to fight our enemies over and over again because we put an end to their lives. Damian fights in a different way, one that doesn’t really benefit him.” 

“But killing is wrong to him and…” [Name] looked at Ali and whispered to him, “My father said that I was welcomed. That I could be there with him, with my brother.”The hopeful look in her eyes shattered upon seeing her instructor’s face.  

Ali’s eyes grew big and wide as saucers. He shook his head in denial and replied to her ridiculous statement, “You can’t do that, [Name]. Your mother will hunt you down and punish you. Talia will not forgive you for running away, she already gave up on one of her children. She won’t give up on you.” 

[Name] knew Ali was right, maybe that’s why she had this terrible feeling in her gut. She could never be free. She felt like a lioness trapped in a cage pacing back and forth memorizing the perimeter. “I know that, Ali.”

“You know what?” A curt voice cut through their conversation.

[Name] and Ali turned their attention to Talia who stood at the entrance of the training area. The daughter sighed and showed her bandaged hands to her mother, “Ali was reminding me that I should strike with more force. But I don’t know how hard I’m hitting when I can’t feel the pain.”

“Obviously not hard enough if your instructor is telling you,” Talia put her hands on her hips leaning on her right leg. Her eyes were dead set on [Name] and the younger female felt suspicious of her mother. Ali noticed the tension and he brought out some tape taking [Name]’s shaky hands in his. “[Name] let me rewrap your hands. It seems the ones you are wearing are too bloody.” 

[Name] pulled her hand back and said, “I’m fine, Ali. Let’s continue with-”

“No.” Talia said sternly. The older female walked down the stairs with a dark look across her face. Ali immediately took a step back feeling the wrath from Talia come off in waves. [Name] felt it too, but she stood her ground. She wasn’t going to back down from her mother. She would go through torture to keep her pride. Not that the beating did anything to her when she couldn’t feel pain. 

[Name] didn’t dare speak first to her mother and waited for the woman to speak her mind. To ask her questions.

“I know you killed Zhao, many of the assassins that accompanied you two mentioned how you were the one who brought him down.”

“I had a perfect reason to stop him, “ [Name] stated looking at her mother with determined eyes. 

“And what was that reason?” Talia asked with gritted teeth. Her anger showed and it was as if she wasn’t trying to hide it. 

[Name] swallowed the lump in her throat, “Zhao was planning to kill Damian. I stopped him from committing that treason. I won’t allow scum like Zhao to end my brother.” The bracelet she wore around her ankle while training reminded her of her bond with her brother. Despite not helping her a lot himself, she would do anything for Damian. Anything for approval because she knew life with the League wasn’t worth it. 

Obviously Damian thought the same because he never returned. 

Talia raised her hand and back handed the girl with a scowl on her face. “Zhao was ordered to kill Damian, you stupid girl. He had to do it to show his loyalty to you and you killed the man who was going to be your husband.” 

[Name] spit some blood on the cement floor and glared back at her mother. Talia wiped her hand and the scowl on her face never disappeared. “That look,” Talia muttered, “that’s how your father and brother stare at me.”

[Name] straightened out her back and said, “I understand why they do. You’re a monster.” 

Talia laughed and replied back, “My daughter, you will receive that same look from them when you show them your true colors.”

Then everything happened so fast. Ali yelled out her name and [Name] saw many assassins attack Ali with incredible speed coming out of their hiding spots. [Name] took a giant leap toward her mentor, but she was tackled by two other assassins. Quickly, one had sedated her, stabbing her arm with the needle of the syringe. 

She watched as Ali defended himself from his once comrades. 

Talia stepped over to [Name]’s slumped body and said, “I will break your spirit and you’ll become a ghost again. You brought this pain and suffering onto yourself.” 

[Name] could hear Ali’s grunts of pain and suffering. The kicks and punches the assassins delivered. They were merciless. They were demons. Ali’s blood was…everywhere. On his clothing, his body, on their fists and shoes, on the cement floor. She could only watch as she was pinned down. [Name] stopped struggling seeing the life leave Ali’s eyes and his body fell to the floor with a thump. Her heart raced from the disgusting sight. 

Her mentor, the only one who cared for her in this godforsaken place, had died right in front of her. She was woken from her sad state when Talia struck her face with her shoe. Blood leaving her nose and a bruise formed on her cheek. “Don’t worry, darling,” Talia crouched down in front of her and [Name] stared at her with a heated look, “Ali is in a better place now. But you, your punishment starts here and you’re working for me.” 

……

“You are going to pose as a captive of Joker.”

[Name] sat strapped onto a wooden chair. Bruises decorated her body in various places, but that didn’t bother her. The thing that irritated her was the mucky environment and the stench of dead bodies at her feet. 

“We need him to lure out your father and your brother.”

She looked around the living room she was stuck in for 4 days and began counting the seconds in her head, never stopping. It was how she kept track of the time, how much longer that psychotic man and his even crazier girlfriend would walk in with a bottle of water for her. 

“This…man…you will not lay a hand on him. You will need to keep him in front of you and bring your father into the light. Make him vulnerable and when the moment is right, kill him.”

[Name] heard the creak of the door first before it slammed open revealing the green haired man and his crooked smile. He held a bottle of water in his right hand and he dragged a mallet in his left. She knew that the mallet belonged to his woman; Harley Quinn. 

She waited for him to smack that thing across her face like he did to the dead ones at her feet. But Joker had something else in mind as the mallet glided across the wood floor. He set it up against the wall and chuckled, sitting down right next to it. 

“It’s been two days, little killer,” Joker taunted, holding the water bottle in the air, “two days since you’ve drank your last sip of water and four days since you’ve eaten.”

[Name] knew that, but kept her mouth closed. She hated talking in general, most of all this guy wasn’t someone she wanted to talk to. Her eyes flitted across the room and to the wall opposite of Joker. Another body, most recent, was a woman wearing a pale pink pencil skirt and a white button up shirt. Her heels were on the floor that were kicked off in her struggle to keep the largest of thugs Joker owned off her. 

But she wasn’t much of a warrior. She was an innocent woman that worked for the wrong man, Bruce Wayne. [Name] remembers her screams and the sound she made when the thug slammed her body on the wooden table that matched the small decorations of the chair she was strapped to. 

She remembered the sound of her skull being crushed by Harley Quinn’s evil swing of the malicious mallet. They all laughed when the table broke from the force and the smashed brains scattered in that area. 

The flashbacks of it all came to a stop when thunder rolled and lightning flashed lighting the small apartment up more. “You’re just like him, you know?” Joker said as he put his hand underneath his chin and his elbow rested on his knee. He scrutinized her. 

[Name] just hummed in response and Joker jumped up excitedly. He pointed the water bottle in her direction with a maniacal laugh, “There! Right there, little killer! That hum you made as a response to my statement sent shivers down my spine. That look you give when you want water too! Oh my, I just want to carve you up for him!”

Just like that, Joker dropped the water bottle on the floor and strode over to her with quickened steps. He pulled out a pocket knife from his purple blazer and pointed the blade at her lips. He grabbed her neck in his gloved hand and slipped upward to her chin. [Name] didn’t move or show fear in her eyes and that made Joker all the more ecstatic. 

“Now smile for me, little killer. Show me what you got,” The purr he let out as he let his fingers glide across her flushed lips was disgusting. [Name] wanted to shove that knife into his eye so badly. “I said,” Joker used both of his thumbs to spread her lips open, showing her pearly white teeth, “to show me your smile.”

“I don’t smile,” [Name] pulled her head away from him and replied coolly and to her surprise, Joker relaxed his tense shoulders. His hands retracted to his sides and he backed up with a less than pleased expression, “He would have shown a smile, I knew he would have. I know him, but you,” Joker drawled out angrily, pointing the knife at her, “I don’t know you. Not yet, at least!” He laughed into the air and he spread his arms out wide. 

“Come in, boys. I wanna see if this little killer can put on the same show he does!”

Ten thugs walked in some holding bats and wrenches in their hands as they filtered in the living room. They stood in a horizontal line behind Joker showing their ugly faces and terrible outfits. They really were crazy people in this awful city. Why would she want to live with her brother and father in this city of filth? 

“Clean up any other mess that tries to dirty you, my girl.”

Then a switch went off, [Name] moved on autopilot. She removed the rope around her torso the day the loonies tied her up there and it felt good when it slid off her body. Joker smiled and began to bow in front of her, “I present to you…the little killer of the desert.”

……

“This is!” Damian slammed his fist on the wall and glared angrily at the Bat Computer. He was enraged seeing the sight on the big screen. A picture of his twin sister tied up to a chair seemingly unconscious and beaten bloody. 

Bruce was just as angry as his son, but he couldn’t let that cloud his judgment. Just what was Talia thinking? “Joker sent this to Gordon stating that he caught an assassin from the League,” Tim piped up looking at Damian who was seething in the corner. 

“What is she doing back in Gotham?” Damian asked himself, removing his fist from the wall. He stalked over to the computer and analyzed the photo closer. “I know she can get out of those ropes, maybe she escaped already. But if that’s true, she wouldn’t hesitate to kill Joker.” 

“Finally, we have someone in the family willing to kill that psychotic clown you call a human being,” Jason, donned in his Red Hood costume, crossed his arms over his chest. Everyone looked back at him and he shrugged his shoulders carelessly, “What? I’m just saying that maybe if you just kill the guy, the city can finally get back on its feet. I died because of him, so cut me some slack when your “morality” is on the line.” 

Bruce stood up and grabbed his cowl, speed walking to the Batmobile. “I want everyone searching for her right now.” Damian followed Bruce, right on his tail and said, “Do you think she came back to live with us?”

Bruce jumped into the Batmobile and Damian did the same. Then Bruce pulled out of the Batcave with Jason and Tim trailing behind on their motorcycles. They were driving anywhere and everywhere for clues on where she could be. The rain slapped the earth with a rageful night of fighting. And Damian had to think, question why his sister came back if not for the first reason he gave out. 

“Your mother wouldn’t have let her go that easily, Damian.” Batman replied after a while of thinking.

“I know that, but I got out. [Name] can do the same and I think she only got caught by Joker to get us out,” Damian speculated with his eyes looking at the streets his father sped by. 

Bruce hummed and opened his mouth to say something, but a man wearing a clown mask jumped in front of the Batmobile with his gun raised high in surrender. Immediately, Bruce yanked the wheel to the left and narrowly dodged the masked man. The Batmobile spun out of control before Bruce used the boosters of the vehicle to spin it in the other direction regaining traction.

It worked and Damian looked at his father with a glare, “And you say I can’t drive.” 

……

“W-we need help,” The clown thug pressed his gun closer to his chest, not wanting Batman or his sidekicks to take the only weapon that can protect him away. “She…she’s killing everyone and she’s too fast. Everything we did…she can’t feel it! Her blood, their blood…it’s everywhere!” The thug cried out and pointed toward the alleyway that he popped out from. 

“Who are you talking about?” Batman asked, but he knew full well who the man was speaking about. [Name] was skilled, maybe even more than Damian. He heard the stories of his daughter and felt guilt for not taking her with him. She must have been on the verge of breaking and tonight Joker broke her. 

“Joker called her The Little Killer of the Desert,” The thug looked around to make sure she wasn’t around to hear him. “And she went on this rampage! We hit her with our best shots and she’s still running around killing all of us!” 

“And what about Joker?” Damian walked up after giving his brothers a heads up about their location and status. 

The thug shook his head and scoffed, “That crazy bastard laughed and for some reason, she left him alone even though he instigated her! I’m telling you, you guys won’t even stand a chance against her.”

Damian rolled his eyes and began walking into the alley filled with determination to save his sister. Their mother must have brainwashed her with a mission and keywords to have her perform a massacre on Joker’s men. 

Damian wasn’t surprised to see a factory in Joker and Harley’s style the more they walked into the area. Neon lights were everywhere as well as clown faces and diamond shapes all over the walls. Then there was a chorus of hoots and hollers from a radio, a fake audience. 

A miniature fighting pit had been made in the center of the apartment complex and right in front of the factory. Then a cry of help was heard before the man choked on a heap of his blood. A katana dug deep into his back, the tip of it connecting with his heart of black. Then it protruded out of his chest covered in blood and rain.

“Oh, come on! Is there anyone out there able to stop her! This is getting boring!” Joker’s voice shouted watching the teenage girl swiftly take her katana back. The body in front of her dropped joining with other dead ones surrounding her. 

Joker stood up from his makeshift throne and pointed over at Damian, “The Boy Wonder! What a crazy match up against my little killer! Come on in and take your best shot, be careful though she has been-” He cackled and gestured to the bodies, “killing all of her opponents!” 

Damian cursed under his breath and looked back at Batman, “I can take her on while you catch Joker na question him on why he had her in the first place.” 

Batman silently stared at Damian and mulled over his words. Then he looked over at Joker saying to the teen, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

…

Soon felt like forever especially when Damian struggled to capture his sister. “Is this what Grayson felt like when I first met him?” Damian grunted out when [Name]’s fist made contact with his nose. In his daze, [Name] jumped at him and straddled his waist. Quickly she swiped a kunai from her vest and aimed it at his heart. 

“Snap out of it!” Damian shouted, his hands holding back her own which held tightly onto her kunai. The tip of it touched the tip of his padded armor and he felt her weight pushing forward to drive it into him. She said nothing the entire time she fought him and she still said nothing trying to end his life. 

“This isn’t you!” Damian grunted out, holding her back as much as he could. “I am your brother! You are my sister! Wake up, [Name]!”

She didn’t relent. His words weren’t reaching her. Their mother, their cruel mother must have spent weeks breaking her mind in order for her to forget about him. He yelled out as he forced the kunai away from his chest where his heart lay. His eyes blinked away the rain that fell on his face and her face drowned out in the background. 

Instead his eyes focused on the bracelet he tied around his wrist today. The little charm on it with the button inside gave him some sort of hope. Maybe this could wake her up from this nightmare. Making quick work, Damian let the kunai dig into his right palm and he cried out while pressing the button on the bracelet. 

His blood dripped onto his face as the sound of a small beeping came from her ankle. It beeps continuously and he looked up at her this time, seeing his distraught sister. Not the killer their mother made her to be. The noise, this certain beep, has been her saving grace for a while now. 

“Brother, did you know?” She asked quietly, afraid that somewhere their mother was watching them from afar. She pressed the dagger closer to his chest, keeping up this charade. When Damian subtly shook his head in disagreement, she went on to explain, “Mother brainwashed me with certain words and methods. I killed so many people under the guise of Little Killer of the Desert and I woke up in their blood with their bodies surrounding me. So Ali used the beeps of this charm to snap me out of it. It took trial and error because it had to be activated by you in order for it to ring.” 

[Name] snatched her hands away from Damian’s grasp and with a flash of lightning above their heads, he felt the sharp blade at his neck. “The bracelet went missing for a year, do you remember that? Ali stole it one night and we began training my mind to listen for it. I was sent with Zhao to kill you. But you pressed this charm and snapped me out of my mission. And here I am, on the same mission.”

She backed up and pushed herself off of Damian’s body. She couldn’t look him in the eyes, not when she failed again. “One of us has to die in order for the other to live, Damian,” She dropped her kunai onto the floor and cried, her tears mixing with the rain. She can’t kill her brother, he has a life to live and it’s a fulfilling one. While she…she’s always been a ghost, no one on this planet knows she lives. 

Damian has a family, he has friends and he has enemies that know of him. 

Now [Name] has her brother, only Damian knows how she laughs or how she used to pull pranks on him when they were younger. He knows that she likes to read books, to dive into different worlds that aren't always just about fighting. Damian knows she likes to dream, to dream of a life where she’s in control. 

“It’s me or you, brother,” She swallowed thickly and brought her eyes up to him, “Do you understand?” 

“I understand.” He solemnly whispers and with another flash of lightning, she attacked him. In his defense, Damian picked up the kunai off the floor and raised it up. His instinct had been faster than what his father taught him. The kunai she slipped from her hip didn’t even make it to his heart. But his did with a nasty squelch. 

He refused to move, but she pressed it further into her chest and smiled softly. The relief, it was such a relief to feel the weight of all the ones she killed off her shoulders and back. Blood leaked from the corner of her lips as she said, “Better you than her.” [Name] looked up from his teary eyes and at the woman standing about ten feet away from them. She rather die in her brother’s arms than the woman who claimed to be their mother. 

“Live long, Damian.” [Name] gazed down at his trembling hand that caused her death. Yes, her death would haunt him forever. But he understood what she meant. He had to be the one to end her life. She held his hand tightly in hers and she slumped forward in his sitting position. Her head hit his shoulder and he sat paralyzed in his spot. 

His beating heart pounded louder than the rain hitting the cement. He struggled to breathe because he felt the breath leaving her lungs. He felt her tight grip weakening and her heart slowing down. “No, wait,” Damian pleaded and shoved her backwards, her eyes already closed, “no, this wasn’t- Why! Why would you make me do that!” He shouted in anguish. 

Then the clicking of calculated steps from behind him got louder. Talia was here to collect his sister’s body, probably to drop her in the pit. He couldn’t let that happen. [Name] belonged with him, finally put to rest and to move on. 

Before Talia could reach any closer to her children, a clang of metal pierced the air. A batarang stuck out from the cement, warning Talia not to step any closer to the twins. 

“Back away from them,” A deep voice warned with anger laced in his threatening tone. 

Damian looked up from [Name]’s fatal wound and saw his father emerge from the shadows with a beaten Joker and Harley Quinn. Both criminals were knocked out and captured, his bloody knuckles holding tight onto their leashes. 

“I’m taking her back, she belongs with me” Talia said with a click of her tongue.

Batman dropped the criminals onto the floor and walked with an aura of darkness shrouding him. He stepped right in front of a crouching Damian who held tightly onto [Name]’s dead body. 

“She’s going home with us and having a proper burial. She deserves it,” Batman said.

“You don’t know what the girl deserves!” Talia lashed out, her nails digging into her palms. 

“She’s not your daughter, Talia!” He snapped back. 

“You ruined that the moment she died and you resurrected her in the pit. You forced her into becoming a killing machine, making her forget who she truly was. A girl who loved playing tricks on her brother, a girl who read books to escape her reality and a girl who dreamed of a life that belonged to her. You stripped away my right to being her father and supporting her like I did for her brother. She’s going home where she belongs.”

Talia faltered and looked down at her children. Damian was still in a stump, never moved away from the feuding parents. “How much did he tell you about her?” 

“Everything,” Bruce said with a stern voice, “I wanted to know what my daughter was like. If she had any hobbies or interests besides what you made her do. I wanted to know her just in case she came back with us, just in case she wanted my help getting away from you. I may not have been the greatest father or the best at times, but hearing about you and what you did to [Name]...” 

Bruce wanted to ask how Talia could mistreat [Name] like that. But one look at Damian and he knew he needed to get his son home before he completely broke. 

“She’s an assassin to you, but she’ll be a daughter to me most and foremost.” Bruce declared and Talia scoffed at his words before turning on her heel. If Talia had the League with her, maybe she stood a chance against Batman, but she didn’t. 

With Talia gone, Bruce knelt down in front of his grieving son and placed a hand onto his shoulder to ground him. 

“Damian,” Bruce called out gently, “it’s time to go home.” 

Damian looked down at [Name] and pressed his face into the crook of her neck and let out a wail of sadness. Those words should have been for [Name] too. It was always what she wanted to hear. Instead she lived a life as a ghost. Her name will be remembered only by him and their father. 

He didn't understand why this had to end like this. So why did he tell her he understood?

[danisdistant]

sunday - your past sins are meaningless now - part one

[intro blog] | [taglist] | [masterlist] | [table of contents]

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

sunday x stellaronhunter!reader

although it was only three days, it felt almost eternal when you’re locked up in a dark room. it doesn’t help that hunger has been gnawing away inside his body.

jade had been checking up on him periodically from time to time to remind him that her offer still stands. even hours before the trial was in preparation, she gave him one last chance. granted, her patience was growing thin.

“are you really going to die like this, sunday?” she said, walking up to him as she lifted his chin. he was already pale-skinned, but even in the dark she could tell he was almost as white as a ghost.

even with this confrontation, sunday refused to maintain eye contact with her. “i’ve told you, for the past three days. i do not want your pity.”

“…well then.” jade sighed, releasing his chin and turned around for the last time. “i’ll go ahead and let the rest know that the trial is still under way.”

“you should already know that your death won’t be quick and painless.”

and just like that, the door shut once more, sealing his faith. sunday felt numb. he knew he could’ve accepted her offer in the first place, at least for robin. but right now, he couldn’t bare to see her face again. not after what he’s done.

he can’t run away from his sins, after all.

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

“wow, golden hour is so… golden.” you mumbled, walking around the hustling and bustling city. “it almost makes me feel like i wanna spend all my money on the casinos.”

“yeah yeah. do that and you’ll get caught by the bloodhounds.” silver wolf spoke through the hologram as she crossed her arms. “oh yeah. kafka told me to remind you about her gift. seems like she really wants some new shades.”

“shades huh?” you placed your hand on your chin. “doesn’t she already have like fifteen pairs of them?”

“well yeah, but i’m sure she’d like some from penacony.” she looked around before pointing at a store on the side. “over there, they’re selling some sick looking things.”

“wolfie… that’s a game shop.” you stared at her in disbelief before shaking your head. “unless you want me to get kafka some shades based off some paper birds.”

“anyway, how much time left do i have till i have to break a bird out of its cage?”

“three system hours and twenty-five system minutes.” silver wolf typed something in the air before her relaxed expression turned slightly more serious. “you better start moving [name]. some bloodhounds are getting close.”

“alright. i’ll move and get something for kafka. and a new console for you.”

“haha, that’s what i’m talking about, [name]. alright, i’ll get back to you once you break in. try not to get spotted. i hope you maxed out your stealth points.”

“yeah yeah…” you muttered, turning off the hologram before placing the device into your pocket.

as you set your eyes on the game store, you wondered what kind of games they would be selling in a dream?

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

“thirty system minutes.” silver wolf said in your headset as you started to walk to sunday’s supposed location. “apparently, his trial is in about an hour, so security in the area is a lot more tight.”

“should it really matter if i make a big scene or not when i break in?” you mumbled quietly into the mic as you passed by some people. “i mean after all, we’re here for one person. break in, save him from the cage or whatever, and leave.”

“eh, if you’re all in on min-maxing your bounty when you’re caught, i’m fine by it.”

“what?! no way, i’m stuck on 6.9 billion credits.”

you could hear silver wolf’s smirk over the mic. “nice. well, it doesn’t matter anyway. it’s about to go up to 7 billion.”

“hey! you aren’t authorized to enter here.” an ipc guard blocked your way to the entrance of an ipc building. “turn around, or i’ll have to resort to force!”

“7.1 billion. sorry, miscalculated.” silver wolf replied as you pulled out your weapon. “don’t worry, i have the screenshot of your bounty, and i’ll share it with the others. anyway, the guard just called back up. good luck.”

“thanks wolfie. i’ll take it from here.”

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

sunday sat still. he was counting the seconds, minutes, and hours, he had left once jade closed the door. he had been stuck in complete silence, minus his own heartbeat and breathing, for four hours now.

as soon as he heard footsteps, he knew that his time was up. he stopped counting. at this point, he wondered if he should finally look at jade in the eye.

“dang it, it’s locked!” an unfamiliar muffled voice came from the other side. his wing twitched, suddenly curious at the foreign voice.

that’s… not what he was expecting at all. was someone else besides jade going to escort him? or is it someone unauthorized trying to break in?

“ugh, i’m just going to brute force it.” the voice said before a loud audible thud filled the room. sunday noticed only a small dent appeared on the metal door.

“dang it, it’ll take me forever to open this!” you groaned as you looked around for some kind of lock or code. you weren’t tight on time, but you did wish to get out of the creepy dark hall and room as fast as possible.

“tsk.” silver wolf clicked her tongue after a brief pause. “if you’d wait a second, you wouldn’t have made yourself noticeable to five other ipc guards. anyway, the code is six-nine-four-two-zero.”

“ok- got it.” quickly, you punched in the numbers and the door opened before you.

you weren’t exactly sure what you were expecting when you heard that sunday was locked up in a room. but, you certainly weren’t expecting him to be chained up in a chair.

“jeez.. the security on you is quite impressive.” you mumbled, causing sunday to finally look at you confused.

“…you’re not the ipc..” he muttered, trying to recall where he has seen your familiar appearance before.

right, you’re a stellaron hunter, specially [name]. he had seen you on the ipc broadcasting channel here and there after your interference with the company.

but, what exactly are you doing here? what exactly are you going to do with a man who’s going to be dead soon?

“nope, not with those suckers.” you smirked slightly, partly listening to silver wolf’s keyboard as she tries to find a way to release the chains. “i’m [name], one of the stellaron hunters if you haven’t heard about me before.”

“right now, your trial is upcoming in a couple of minutes, but i’m here to get you out.” giving a thumbs up, sunday shook his head.

“…don’t. i deserve what i’m going to be charged for, even if it means death.” he muttered, turning away as you looked at him surprised. you were honestly expecting him to be ecstatic to leave.

well, it doesn’t really matter how he feels. after all, the script did say to free him from the chains.

“uhuhh..” you said, listening to the footsteps outside that seem to be getting closer. “well, a little birdie told me to get you out of your chains, is to just snap them.”

“wait- you’ve.. disabled them??” sunday looked at his wrists to realize that the dull purple glow was gone. at a slash of your weapon, both of the chains snapped off his wrists.

he gasped, although he wasn’t sure why. surprise that the chains actually broke? relief that he’s free? or infuriated that a stellaron hunter is helping him?

“alright bird man.” you turned around as more ipc guards appeared at the door, aiming their weapons as you prepared to attack. “i’m going to save you, whether you like it or not.”

really, sunday himself wasn’t sure if he did mind being saved or not.

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

“alright, that’s the last guy.” you huffed as the final body fell to the ground with a satisfying thud. “we’ll be leaving penacony as soon as we wake up.”

“and if you’re thinking about running away, i have a small bird keeping my eye on you.” you glared, causing sunday to respond with a small nod.

so, it seems she really is serious about breaking me out and taking me hostage. it’s no secret that the stellaron hunters are planning something.. yet, i’m in no condition to fight and resist. sunday said mentally as he followed you out of the area. although, i wonder who’s the other stellaron hunter she’s referring to as her bird…?

despite his suspicions, sunday believed that the best course of action is to do as you say as the two of you break out.

“alright wolfie, we’re at a safe area. get us out of the dreamscape before more ipc guards catch up to us.” you placed two fingers on your headset as silver wolf gave you the clear.

[previous] | [next]

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

[headspace-hotel]

Dwarf fortress update:

My population is 300+ now and i've been amusing myself with conducting raids on the elves. The loot from the elves is crap, the main purpose of raiding is to steal their animals.

The first couple raids I did yielded several dingoes and a couple of grizzly bears (which apparently can be trained for war). Since then, I've gotten large numbers of: weasels, badgers, moose, leopards, jaguars, cougars, wolves, great horned owls, black bears, and armadillos, plus a pair of tigers and one cheetah.

The benefit in having lots of animals is that you can make them adoptable as pets, and dwarves that like a certain species will be very happy to adopt them. One of my miners likes wolves and he has 4 pet wolves now. Dwarves can also have preferences for a certain species as food or the skins and bone thereof as a crafting material.

I finally broke and made dungeons and appointed a dungeon master, but as it turns out incarceration in dwarf fortress has about the same benefit to public health and welfare that it does in real life. I was able to convict and imprison the dwarves that keep throwing tantrums and killing other dwarves, but while caged their mental state declined. Furthermore a bunch of my other dwarves were caged for reasons I do not know, and a couple of them went stark raving mad or slipped into melancholy from the isolation.

It has been a consistent feature of my fortresses that I have a few dwarves that are constantly depressed and violent, and nothing seems to improve their state. I can't kill them because it makes me feel bad. Troublingly, a factor in the development of this phenomenon seems to be acquiring a disability. One of my murderous dwarves has apparently permanent nervous system damage and has lost the ability to stand, and I suspect that his inability to move quickly between areas to meet his needs helped precipitate the development of misery. It seems like the dwarves would be clever enough to construct mobility aids beyond crutches.

Most of my dwarves are stressed because of unmet needs, and I have been wringing my brain over how to convince the dwarves to meet them. For example most of them are stressed by the need to pray to one or more of their gods, but I already have temple complexes established for those gods!!! Sometimes they are stressed over not praying to their god while standing in the temple to another god. I'm thinking of putting an array of levers in each temple and telling dwarves to pull them in order to make dwarves visit the temples regularly.

The other major unmet needs are "Acquire object" and "Be extravagant," which is a source of total perplexment for me, because there is high quality jewelry and items everywhere. I have been trying to encourage them to pick up items by making finished goods stockpiles for them to fill everywhere, but it doesn't seem to help.

Many dwarves also have a need to "Craft object/Be creative," which I don't know how to fix either, because it takes like, a whole week in-game for anyone to pick up a crafting job assigned at a workshop. Everyone wants to "craft object" nobody wants to stop "socializing" and craft the object.

Since dwarves like waterfalls so much, I have a waterfall going through my fortress that drains into the caves below, and the area where it drains into grates has a well and soap stockpile and I've designated it a meeting area. I also have 4 separate taverns each with musical instruments.

In order to run so many raids, i have to have a large number of militias. Being in militias seems to initially boost mental health and then cause negative mental health impacts, so I am forced to rotate dwarves in and out of the militias; I regularly disband squads and re-form them with approximately half experienced dwarves and half new recruits. Setting them to train does virtually nothing to develop their skills, but it does make them keep their armor on, so I have set them to train pretty much constantly.

I wish I hadn't raided and destroyed the necromancer tower so soon in the save; the undead hordes were great target practice for my military.

Being at war with every elf civilization has a similar effect, since there are ambushes, but the trouble is, I'm also at war with the goblin civilizations. Last night, a goblin siege started in the middle of an elf raid, which meant my military had to fight off both at once. Around 20 dwarves were killed, including one of my Legendary fighters. The rest were pretty severely wounded.

The hospitals were full of patients, and then I realized I had fallen victim to the dreaded supply chain disruption. Despite having a constantly running soap industry, I was completely out of soap.

A common source of supply chain distributions in my fortress is my permanently depressed dwarves, which regularly topple workshops causing work orders to be destroyed. At some point my lye making work order had gone to be with Jesus, and I hadn't had soap in a long time. I quickly loaded up lots of orders to make lye, but even marking orders as top priority doesn't make them happen much faster, as dwarves are always doing important shit like "Socialize" and "Pen/pasture some fucking baby gosling that wandered downstairs" and "Listen to Poetry" in the middle of a crisis.

(Cleaning raw fish and collecting webs in particular are more important to dwarves during an emergency situation than anything else in the world, which is why both of those activities are restricted).

I ended up canceling basically every other work order in the fortress to try to get someone, out of the 300 dwarves in my fortress, to work on making soap, but as soon as the soap was made, it was appropriated to clean up random blood puddles on the floor. By the time ANY soap made it into the hospitals, everyone had infected wounds, and no one could be bothered to clean them, because it was more important to do some random chore or mope around.

In other news, I've had to install stairs next to the trees in the fruit gathering zone, because the dwarves keep removing stepladders while other dwarves are up in the trees, causing them to get stuck up there and starve/thirst to death.

[gallaghersgal]

I don’t know if someone has sent something like this in but I had a thought the other night about getting in an argument with Richie (and previous not having gotten into many with him, being shy and staying in your lane as a waitress) in the restaurant and he says something not intending for it to be suggestive, but it is. You reacting positively to it but leaving embarrassed. He unintentionally follows you out and asks you about it. Jksodhe I’m sorry for rambling 😖😖

this ask has been wasting away since... idk probably july. but it's itching my brain all of a sudden so. mature for suggestive language. pre-canon setting!

the bullshit that richard jerimovich put you through. god, it would be enough for anyone to just walk out. but you needed this job, so you put up with his nonsense. at least he's easy on the eyes.

today he's in the dining area with fak, slamming the side of the ball machine every time the younger man makes a mistake. there's a rush happening too, or at least there was. you michael, and ebra handled it all. much to your disdain mikey just laughs it off when you bring richie's absence to his attention, telling you, "relax kid, we can handle this shit. let the old man fuck around."

you groan as you wipe your hands, fingers feeling tender from all the piping hot sandwiches you'd just served up. you march your way into the dining area intending to give that old fuck a piece of your mind. he brushes you off similarly to his friend, you swear sometimes those two are just iterations of the same person.

"fucks sake princess, i don't see a line out the door," he jabs, gesturing obnoxiously towards the now empty area.

"oh, fuck you richie," you spit back at him, reaching out to shove him lightly.

"yeah? fuck me?" he taunts, crowding into your space. "i bet you'd like to, huh princess."

he doesn't even say it with any low, lustful tone. it's a jab, an insult even. but the words send heat creeping up your cheeks and you stammer out, "f-fuckin' jagoff," before turning quickly on your heel.

crisp chicago winter air helps soothe your racing mind, the shock against your bare arms bringing you back to reality. that was embarrassing. wanting to have sex with a coworker was bad enough already, but a coworker nearly ten years your senior? that's the beginning of a workplace nightmare.

richie steps into the alley and you glare at him. his hands raise in defeat, one holding a lighter as an unlit cigarette hands from his lips. he lights the thing and takes a drag, then pulls it from his lips to observe, "you look fuckin' cold."

"oh, thank you captain fucking obvious," you bite back, but your voice trails off as he cages you in against the wall.

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XII : Venus

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: I realized shortly after posting chapter 11 that I’d made a small mistake in the timeline I’m intending this to follow. I included a line from Din saying Paz had already tried to take the Darksaber from him and failed, but where we’re at now, chapter 5 of The Book of Boba Fett hasn’t happened just yet. So I’ve gone back and deleted that small detail from the previous chapter, and why am I even telling you this, idk, but if you guy could do me a solid and pretend to forget my fuck up, I’d love you forever for it. 

Writing Star Wars is hard

Also, the indomitable @dirtysouvenir has rendered the most gorgeous artwork imaginable of Din and Sithy, and I still can’t quite believe my eyes every time I look at it. Everyone please go show Jonis all the love and praise she deserves. 

Anyways… like always, forgive me for the wait. I love you all for being so patient with me. And shout out to chapter four of Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband which served as inspiration for this. You will always be famous to me!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

Tip Jar

CHAPTER XII : VENUS

What are we doing here, and why are our hearts invisible?

Anne Carson, Kinds of Water

“Just like that, yes. Good girl–keep doing what you’re doing.” His hand slides to circle your wrist, leather and the thick weave of your tunic, the slight shake of your nerves caught between. “Grip it firmly, but squeeze it gently. Yes– yes, good. You’re doing so well.”

You suck in a trembling breath, too hyper aware of the feel of his chest plate brushing against your back, the cap of his left knee gently bumping the back of your own, his arms wrapped in a loose and careful cage around your frame where he’s helping you direct the blaster at the target he’d set up several meters away for practicing. He’s got one of your wrists wrapped in the leather of his fist, the other cupping the underside of your elbow to keep your shaking arms steady. 

“I don’t know why I’ve never been very good at this,” you whisper over the sound of the burning desert winds lashing you in the brow. “It’s just never come very easy.”

“That’s alright. That’s why we’re practicing again.” The hand cupping your elbow moves slowly to your waist, all his handling of you these past few days has been so intentional, cautious and patient and aware of himself and you and your reactions. Your heart beats, thumps and thumps hard enough to make you a little dizzy, a little sick. “Keep your right arm firm, but fluid. Try not to lock your elbow, let the recoil move through you steadily.”

He’d covered your hair and face in soft white linen wraps to keep you from being scorched by the sun and sand, and his voice is so deep, head pitched low so that the modulator is vibrating right at the level of your ear, the sounds of him sluicing through the linen to curl around your ear. You shiver again, squeezing your fist too tight around the butt of the blaster. You’d asked him if he’d help you practice just before you’d made planet fall a few hours ago, and now here the two of you are. A few clicks outside of Mos Eisley, he’d found a cluster of sandstacks to land the Crest amidst for a couple hours of target practice—near an area he’d told you is called Beggar’s Canyon. 

You’re not sure if it’s just an excuse to have him touch you, but here you are now, in the circle of his arms, shivering with nerves and heat and want. The sun burns, but the places where he grips you burn worse, and your heart rings in your skull. 

“Focus your gaze between the eyeline, eventually, it’ll come naturally, your aim, but for now, use the field the blaster sets. Squeeze gentle–” He grips your now healed elbow firmly, anchoring your arm, the hand holding your wrist moves to your waist, securing you in his hold so that when you pull the trigger, the zing of the blaster bolt leaving its chamber moves through your limb, into your chest cavity, electrifying your heart, and his hold is steadying all the way through. He’s there to keep you up, keep you strong, and so it’s almost thoughtless when you do it, a gut instinct or some muscle inside your brain desperate to flex and stretch or come awake because faster than you can blink or think, you take hold of that bolt of plasma with your mind, freezing it midway between where the two of you stand and the target he’d set. 

You feel his hands flex around you, but he keeps still and silent, watching, waiting for what you’ll do next. And your heart beats faster and faster, the bright of the sun gleaming and nauseating, refracting off the sand, the plasma, your eyes. The bolt screeches and writhes and defies the laws of nature by your hand, and it does not feel good, but it does feel right. 

The first time you’ve really wielded the Force since the night you escaped. 

There’s something painful and uncomfortable and familiar about it coming back to you. Your breath goes fast within your chest, the taste of the desert on your tongue and the grit of sand sneaking beneath your clothes, sweaty line of anxiety down your spine, and his steady, calm breaths up against your back every other moment, this power inside of you that’s always been the cause of everything bad and only some things good. It vibrates in everything, moves through all living things, the Force, within you, within him. 

“Let it go, cyare. It’s okay if you miss.” You shut your eyes and let it fall away and now it’s not the Force or you or anything else, it’s only him keeping you up against the rest of everything. 

The two of you, like grief and the mountain. 

-

“How did you meet this woman again?” You ask for about the third time, seemingly unable to keep your mouth shut and your nerves to yourself. 

“She’s been keeping up maintenance on the Crest for a while now. And she helped out with the kid, watched him for me a couple times—I trust her.”

“Peli,” you repeat the name contemplatively, taking in the sight of him as he checks the pre-landing codes, flipping switches and punching toggles a little too roughly. He’s agitated, covered and swathed in it. You know he’s worried about you, the way you’ll feel being around someone else, scared you’re still feeling fragile or tired or weak. And you’re accepting it for now because you are. You are tired and you do feel fragile and you do need taking care of. If only for the time being, if only for a little bit longer. A sort of end feels very near, and you’re still working out what that such end is going to be. 

“Peli,” he sighs, hitting the last button and finally swiveling in his chair to face you, and you eye him suspiciously, you know that sigh and head tilt. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Not tired?”

“No.”

“Your shoulder?”

Hurts. “Fine.”

“Cyar’ika.”

“Din.” Another sigh. Another shake of his head. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes at you beneath that stupid lug of metal he wears on his fat head. But you hope that he’s smiling too, and you give him a soft, small one of your own, twisting your fingers together tightly in your lap. You want to reach out for him, to go to him and sit with him and kiss him again like the other day. But you don’t feel ready again. Again, fragile, tired, a weakness of heart within you that you can’t understand the source of, or you can, but you don’t want to accept it, you want to be able to move on, to get over it, to be like you once were. But that you also know he’ll let you feel for as long as you need to.

“I promise I feel okay, and that I’ll tell you if I don’t.” The target practice had left you tired and awake, and there is something moving inside of you—a recognition of sorts you can’t pinpoint exactly, but which you know is going to show or tell you something about yourself soon, the Force, the things you’d done or the things you’d do. And there’s patience too, a waiting, a readiness to receive whatever this would be without pressure or urgency. You feel entirely strung tight, a knot about to be set loose, entirely at ease, as well. Something strange about the anxiety you carry within yourself, like it doesn’t really matter much anymore and is only waiting for the right moment to be expelled. 

He gives a soft grunt and turns back to face the control panel. The rolling golden sands of Tatooine like an ocean before you, and then there in the distance, the littered smattering of sand blighted little buildings that make up the spaceport of Mos Eisley. He directs the Razor Crest towards Hangar three-five, the ship jostling with the lowering of the landing gear. 

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You ask nervously, following him down the ladder once he’s eased the ship into the landing bay, fretting over this ordeal of having to meet someone else from his life, a friend, which wasn’t even something you were aware he knew how to have. You hear the heavy thud of his boots against the durasteel, and then his hands are circling your waist and pulling you down the rest of the way, paying no mind to your indignant squawking. 

He’d been strange with his touch, as well. As if he couldn’t help himself some moments, overcome by habit and familiarity, and then afraid and cautious in others. And you can’t understand how you feel about this either. Grateful, a sort of soft that makes your eyes smart and your cheeks bleed with heat. He’s so aware of you, so aware of what you might want or need, but then overcome, as well, needing you, wanting you. And you feel so afraid you won’t be able to give him those things—the ones he wants or needs, that you won't be able to find your way back to the way things had been between the two of you before. 

“You’ll be fine,” he says, little compassion to be found for your fretting. You stick your tongue out at the back of his head, rolling your eyes and steeling yourself as he lowers the hatch, and a chirpy little voice calls, Mando!

The plank lowers, and lowers, and lowers, and finally, a mess of springy dark curls come into view. The small woman, Peli, claps her hands excitedly and spreads her arms in wide welcome of him, and something in your heart throbs. 

A friend, indeed. 

“Peli,” he greets her, heavy, swaying gate stomping down the gangplank, voice serious and not all matching her enthusiasm. You roll your eyes at him again as the reverberations of his steps tickle your feet through the soles of your boots. 

“Hey, look everyone! It’s Mando,” she says to the chittering droids whirring around her. You follow him slowly, slinking directly behind him so that the breadth of his shoulders conceals you for a second longer before, “And who do we have here? Another unlikely companion?” 

He pivots, letting you step into full view and brave shyness, a hand coming up to hover around your waist, urging you forward, but not actually touching you. The sound of your name rings in tune to the thump of your heart through the modulator. Careful, so careful, and it makes you hurt at your own self. Wanting to touch you one moment, unable to stop himself from ripping you into his arms; another, afraid, feeling like he can’t even put a gently motioning hand on your body, and how will you ever fix this? How are you going to ever be able to get the two of you back to where you were? 

You take a hurt little step away from him, swallowing the heat in your throat several times before you can force a smile onto your face. 

His body shifts and sways towards your retreating one. 

But the small woman steps towards you, pit droids spinning and skittering frantically around her, and she claps a work hewn hand on your shoulder. “Let Peli take a good look at you.” Her gaze is cheerful, full of a youthfulness that belies her age and an even more cheerful, gap toothed smile. “Pretty girlfriend, Mando.” She waggles her bushy brows up at him. “Brought me another set of bright eyes, didn’t’cha?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peli.” Your throat feels humiliatingly tight when she takes your hand in her smaller one, giving it a swift shake, no gentleness about the way she handles you, and there’s something comforting about the forsaking of the kid gloves. Your fracture isn’t obvious for the whole world to see, there’s still normalcy to be found for you. 

She looks up at Din as you avoid his burning gaze, laughing scowl on her sunny face. “Who woulda thought you had it in, ya, huh?” She thumps a fist on his chest plate, shaking her head and moves to take a look at the Crest. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Chasing down some elusive bounty? Carbon scoring’s worse than last time.'' She chatters a million miles a minute, pulling out some sort of electric scanner, assessing the old gunship. 

“We had a long trip,” he sighs, hands fisted on his hips as he watches her impatiently, turning his gaze back to your face every few moments. You want to bare your teeth at him in a snarl and tell him to stop fucking worrying. You want him to take you into his arms or hold your hand. 

“Long trip, sure. That’s what he always says,” she tells you over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. “Turns out it’s usually a gun fight or something just as idiotic.”

You snicker, enjoying the easy way she handles your Mandalorian’s surliness, grateful for the cheerful buffer she provides between your own internal angst and his overzealous worrying. “It was a long trip this time, I swear. We’re coming from the Core,” he grumbles, and the two of you follow her while she inspects the damage on the ship, and in a moment of bravery or desperation for normalcy or closeness or just him, you reach up to grip two of his thick fingers in your fist. His hand immediately adjusts and curves to wrap around yours, intertwining your fingers and taking you securely in his grip. You feel him turn to look down at you questioningly, but you refuse to look back. This is normal, this is how it should be, this is what feels right even if you need the barrier of his gloves to feel like you can breathe. 

“The Core! Long way’s.” Hmm, she muses as she goes. “Got a fuel leak.” Again. He huffs. “Taking a vacation now?” She turns back with another smarmy smirk. 

“Something like that.”

“Nice little honeymoon?” She teases. “I could use one of those myself.” She scans something else, and the pit droids chatter and chirp around her, almost full her height, she’s so small. 

“Peli–” he grumbles. Your grumpy, shy boy; you wonder if he ever blushes under that thing, squeezing his hand in yours as tight as you can. 

“Yeah, yeah. No droids, I know. When are you gonna get over that nonsense, huh Mando? It’s about time, you know!” She bends to inspect something closer near the landing gear, covered in carbon scoring here too, examines her scanner again, then clips it back to her utility belt. “Alright, here’s the deal–” But he cuts her off, pivoting while pulling his blaster in one fluid motion to shoot at a poor little droid that's gotten too close. “Hey! Hey! What’ve I said before? You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” She shouts. 

“Din–” you scold, gripping the thick of his arm to pull the weapon down. 

“What’ve I told you?” He barks. 

“No droids. No droids. Blah, blah. You have got to get over that! I’m tryn’a make a deal with you here, ya womp rat.”

He jerks aggressively towards another little droid that wanders too close, sending it skittering away in terror, and you pinch his arm beneath the thick duraweave, frowning up at him, be nice, when he looks down at you, giving him a jut of your eyebrow and thrusting your chin at Peli. He groans, cursing low and grumpy in Mando’a. “Fine. What’s the deal?”

“If you let them work on the Crest–” She jerks her chin at the little pit droids quivering behind the crates strewn about the hangar in abject terror of the mean Mandalorian. 

“No,” he cuts her off, stubbornness in every line of his frame. 

“Din!” You scold again, bumping your hip into his. 

“Come on, Mando! I’ll charge you half price–”

“Deal,” he cuts her off again immediately, the cheapskate. 

“Ha!” She hoots and claps loudly. “Droids! Get to work on this lovely man’s ship. Lemme see the cash.” She holds out a grubby palm, wiggling her fingers. “He’s pretty easy, you ever notice that?” She says to you conspiratorially. 

“Constantly,” you can’t help the laugh in your voice. Your first laugh in what seems like years. 

“Loose knickered is what they used to call it back in my day.” And you have to turn your face into his arm to muffle your cackling, listening to him start up another string of curses beneath the helmet.

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that before, ever,” he mutters sullenly. 

“Well, you’re young.”

“Not that young,” you provide helpfully, big cheesy smile that feels slightly unnatural and rusted spreading across your face. 

“Whoopee, Mando! I like this one! You really do know how to pick ‘em.” She claps him roughly on the shoulder, her little paw slapping loudly against his pauldron. “Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be for the next couple of days, you see. I’m dating that Jawa again—the one I’d told you about,” she announces, proud as anything, big smile across her leathery face.

“A Jawa?” You repeat, making sure you heard right. 

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, bright eyes. They’re quite furry… very furry, but…” She clicks her teeth together, “You know…” Grins. 

You look up at Din, squeezing his arm in your grip. “Guess I gotta try it.” You’re pretty sure you hear him grumble something to the effect of over my dead body, before he’s agreeing to Peli’s deal with a clap and a shake, and the promise of two hundred and fifty Imperial credits and absolutely no harm done to her droids while she’s gone and they work on the Crest. 

“Treadwell, get in there!” She shouts, and the little pit droid chirps fretfully, trembling behind an R5 unit. “You can’t say no, you’re a droid. Oh, he’s not going to shoot you. Stop being a coward! What is this, a democracy all of a sudden?” Losing the fight, the droid wheels forward to get to work. “Yeah, thought so.” She turns back to you and Din. “You two can stay here, look after the shop while I’m gone? It’ll only be a few days.”

“We have some resupplying to do, but we’ll stay until you’re back,” he promises.

“And you’re not going to shoot my droids?”

“And I’m not going to shoot your droids,” he agrees, but later, you catch the too rough nudge he gives one of the little droids with his boot when he thinks no one’s watching. This man and his droid complex, you roll your eyes. 

“How’s the N-1 keeping up?” He asks as she’s packing up to go. 

“Just how you left her. That honey’s faster than a fathier. You should take her out while you’re here, give that baby a spin. Oh! And I added that turbonic venturi power assimilator I’d mentioned before. Remember? S’how I reconnected with my Jawa,” she nudges you with a wink. “You’re gonna be the fastest ship on the Outer Rim.” 

“You got a new ship?” You ask curiously.

“Just a side project we took up while I had some spare time.” But the way he says it is a little strange, making you pause to look up and try to read the blank face of his helmet. Ah, and he smooths that same hovering hand from before along the line of your spine, an attempt to soothe or quell your curiosity without actually giving you the gift of his touch.  

Peli leaves a few hours later, and she really does have a Jawa lover. The little critter comes to collect her right before the suns set, off to catch the sandcrawler before it journeys off into the desert, leaving you alone with only Din and the little pit droids for company. 

And suddenly, that shyness from earlier is back for some reason. The distraction of travel and the buzz of hyperspace lost to the calm silence of the quiet spaceport as the suns set over the horizon and night settles in, cool winds coming in on the sand gusts from deep in the desert. After hours of work, Din posing as the menacing overlord barking orders and complaints, intruding on their work when it isn’t up to his ridiculous standards, the droids finish up for the night, and Din engages the hangar security system, and then the ship’s, locking the two of you in safely for the night. 

“Dinner?” He asks as he moves slowly around the hull, pulling the cloak from his shoulders, a river of sand sluicing in a rain sheet onto the steel floor. The sound of it has a shiver moving through you as you lower yourself to the floor, crossing your legs beneath you at the edge of your makeshift bed. You desperately want to crawl between the covers without a shower and find the peace of evasion through sleep, secure in the knowledge that he won’t follow you into bed. He’d refused since you’d reunited, even though you’d invited him several times to share the much more comfortable pile of blankets than what you know his pilot’s chair or bunk provide. He’d not taken you up on the offer yet, and right now, fluttering heart and hot eyes and sweating nape, you’re glad for it. 

You don’t know what’s wrong with you—or you do. You’re overwhelmed with want and fear, of him, of his touch, of having lost what the two of you had before. And as you watch him start to pull his armor from his body, first one pauldron, then a vambrace, then a thigh guard, no sense of congruity to the pattern with which he divests himself of his Creed, it’s suddenly like he’s standing right in front of you, and yet you miss him anyway. Miss him in a way that makes you sick and devastated. 

You must make some sort of sound, a funny look on your face or a change in your breathing because he turns suddenly, a too worried, “What’s wrong?” on his tongue. 

“Nothing.” You look up at him from your spot on the ground, head falling back on your neck, and you can feel the wet of your eyes, trying to force yourself not to blink so that they won’t fall—the tears. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He comes to a slow crouch before you, long legs folding down, down. “What is it? Tell me.” Half missing his armor as he poses now, it’s like he’s half him, half yours, half only-man, half Mandalorian. A little bit like what you feel yourself; half, half, half. 

Pulling one glove from his hand, he lifts it, palm spread towards you, showing you his intention before he carefully cups the side of your face; thumb at your pulse, pointer and middle fingers giving your temple a soft pressure, pinky poised at the bridge of your nose. Your lashes brush against his index every time you blink, and his skin is smooth and rough at the same time, and warm—sun-hearted man. 

You press your face harder into his palm, letting him support the weight of your head, nuzzling against the rough of his calluses, blaster blister scratchy against your carotid, and heat pulses all through you from the crown of your head, sliding down the length of your, still yet, too long hair, the back of your neck, your chest, pooling to settle deep in the pit of your belly. 

And yet there’s something missing or different or off, like you feel empty but too full of trepidation to conjure up that old desire you’d always had, that need for him to fill, fill, fill you. Like the heat is there, but it’s remembered, not necessarily present. It all makes you want to cry and scream and go to sleep. 

The truth, and plainly: you’re terrified of anything that might hurt, can’t fathom the idea of it. 

Your heart beats in your throat, you taste it on your tongue, and it mixes with the sad when you say: “Do you remember when we were on Kashyyyk—when we sparred?”

“I remember,” he says, voice deep and low—through the modulator. You hate his helmet. You wish you could get beneath. You wish you were brave enough. The feeling of it coming on sudden and unexpected, thought, bitter and foul and not something you’d necessarily felt before, certainly not so viciously. It’s just that you hate that all this has happened—you want to feel the press of his lips at the crown of your head and the wash of his breath like heat moving through your hair—that you are not in the same place you once were, that you’re too afraid to move forward. 

“When we switched weapons—”

He hums: “Yes.”

“It was so green there.” You turn your face further into him so that you’re speaking into his palm now, words pooling there in the cup of it like a well of truths and fears. 

“It was.” The pointer and index stroke your temple, press once, twice, thrice—harder on the latter. It feels good, it feels real and reminding. He lets a heavy silence pass for a moment, he’s thinking of something, contemplating a push. “Do you remember—” He passes a swallow you can hear the thickness of, “Do you remember how I had you in the dirt—like a fucking animal? How you let me do whatever I wanted, however I wanted.” He gives the hardest press he’s given yet, at your temple, you think you feel the press against your brain, and you open your mouth to let the edge of your teeth dig hard into the meat of his palm. He growls a rough sound, a hungry sound, a sound like one he’d have made when he had you in the dirt like a fucking animal. 

You drag your teeth along the hill of his palm, closing your mouth at the end. You don’t give him the wet of your tongue, you don’t feel ready to taste his skin like that just yet—an assimilation of violence.

“Yes,” you finally say, realizing that he understands what you were thinking without having to say it, or knowing how to, that you’re full of memories of past desires and how badly you want them back and how out of reach that all feels, but also, that suddenly now, in a single blink, the heat in your belly isn’t remembered, but present, alive, awake. That you’re cunt clenches once, twice, thrice around nothing—harder, hungrier on the latter. That you’re wet for him. “I remember.”

“Good. I remember every single thing we’ve ever done.” You roll your face in his palm so that you can look up at him now, feeling something like brave. “Every word, every breath, I remember all of it. Alright?”

“Alright,” you say quietly. 

“And if you need me to help you remember too, then I will.”

“Alright.” And then: “What if I can’t, though?... What if we can’t ever have that again? What if I can’t remember? What if I can never give you that again?” A tear slides over the bridge of your nose, and now it’s not only truths and fears cupped in the palm of his hand but the saltwater of grief too.  

“Then we’ll find something new. A new way, a different way. We’ll do it however you want now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, cyar’ika.” It’s very much a promise, a new Creed being established here. 

“Okay.”

He nods, “Okay.”

-

The water is warm verging on hot verging on scalding. It feels incredible slithering over your tired and sore muscles, the ligatures in your arms still trembling from the blaster practice earlier today, from your overwhelm of emotions. 

You hate that you’re not good at it, that the only weapon that seems to become you is a lightsaber. 

The suds of his earthy smelling soap slide through your hair, slipping down your spine, over your ass and along your legs to pool around your feet and disappear down the drain. You shiver once, as though letting something fall away as you slide your hand down, over the swell of your belly, to cup the palmful of your cunt, wedging your hand between your thighs. You pet slowly at the wet curls there, realizing some of it is also the sticky slick of your desire. You were right, you’re wet for him and your clit pulses, slightly swollen and wanting. Your body is awake and hungry for him for the first time in what feels like eons. 

You explore slowly, your cunt slightly trembling at the feeling of being prodded and touched for the first time in you can’t remember how long. Moaning softly, you pull your fingers from between your legs, hands sliding up now to cup the weights of your breasts in each palm and squeeze tightly. Oh, you want him, you want him, you’re afraid. Your head falls back on a thump against the fresher wall, loud enough that you hear his lurking voice through the door, you okay in there? And instead of being annoyed at his overbearing caution, his hovering, you shiver again, something coming back to you now. 

Your desire. 

You shut the water off, grabbing one of the soft linens he’d slung over the warm pipe for you to wrap yourself in. He knocks a knuckle against the wobbly little door, “Cyar’ika?” 

Looking at yourself in front of the steamy mirror, too long, naiad hair, bright, strange eyes, you want him, you want him, you want to feel alive, awake, anything. You can’t deny your shortcomings, fears, whatever they might be called, but there is yet still a soft place inside of you that they’d not snuffed out, that wants Din still. 

You turn to slide the fresher door open just as he’s readying to knock again. 

He’d showered before you, after he’d fed you your soup and your disgusting fake bread he’d promised he’d find a real substitution for soon enough, and you’d needed a moment alone to sit in your grime and silence, digest your feelings. He’s clad now in one of his soft, dark undershirts, his flight pants and the helmet, opposite your towel and water dewed skin, steaming from the hot fresher. 

You watch a swallow pass through his throat, words caught, slow and heavy. He clears it once, twice, tilts his head down to take in the state of you, before he says, “You alright?”

You nod, wide eyed awake. He’s standing right in front of you and you miss him and you want to shock him wide eyed awake too. “The water was too hot. I got dizzy,” you lie, swaying towards him a little, letting your lashes flutter dramatically. 

Not all the way, but enough, just a little, as much as you can bear, that’s what you want from him right now. 

His hands come up to grip the sides of your arms immediately, his bare hands, soaking up the wet of your skin. He pulls you into himself, pressing you carefully against his chest, and you shiver and shake against him, teeth rattling with a sound entirely lacking temperance. Your blood feels like it’s boiling, there’s desire alive and writhing in your tummy, and you squeeze your thighs together tightly, shifting from one foot to another while you drip a puddle onto the cold floor. 

“Come here, sit down,” he murmurs, gently moving you to your bed, easing you down onto it slowly. “You need to take it easy,” he clucks over you, gripping your elbow to let you down carefully, keeping his hands on your bare skin until the last moment. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re still tired, you’re still recovering. And you never listen. You have to listen to me when I’m trying to take care of you. You don’t eat enough, and I know your shoulder still hurts, little liar. Your elbow is barely better, and I saw you making strange faces when you were walking up the plank the other day. Your hip hurts doesn't it? Or your knee, something. No, don’t answer. I know you’ll just say no.” He talks and talks and talks, and you love him and you think that— 

There’s a name for this…

He’d told you he loved you and he’d not said it again, neither had you, it felt too huge a thing to talk about again just yet while there was still so much left to discuss and bridge, but what does it matter if your body sings or screams in pain when you have the love of this beskar titan? What could you care for all the rest of everything?

Yes, Din. Yes, Din. Whatever you say, Din, as he huffs and puffs and arranges you, brings another pillow and blanket from the bunk, his only one in there, not that he cares, lovely man. 

And it’s not only that you feel like you need to give him the things he wants or needs, because of course you do. You love him, you need to be able to give him things, everything, you want to be able to give him the whole galaxy. But it’s also that you want to. That to give him what he desires is to feed yourself, to live together, to be together, to give each other the things you need to stay alive. 

You let yourself fall back onto the soft blankets slowly, this nest where you’ve always felt so safe and so protected and so loved, even when neither of you knew it was love that was holding you here. And you watch him for a few anxious moments as he pulls the covers this way and that, tucking them here and there, trying to avoid looking at the bare expanse of your dew damp legs. But then, taking hold of his hand, you still his nervous movements, and he finally looks up at your face, letting go of his fretting, taking hold of the bravery in the palm of your hand. 

Shy—but brave. Brave—and wanting. 

“We’ll take care of each other, won’t we?” You want to tell him you love him again, but there’s something slightly terrifying, gloriously intimate and fragile about the words. 

“Always.”

“And we’ll keep each other alive?” Maker, I hope we keep each other alive. 

“Yes.”

You take hold of the edge of the linen covering you, revealing your naked body to him slowly, exposing your soft underbelly. You hear his breath hitch, exhale on a groan that sounds like dying. His grip on your hand goes tight to the point of bone crushing pain for one brief, brief moment before he remembers himself and gentles again. You shiver at the pain, belly swooping and quivering with fear and nausea and lust. 

You wish you could see his eyes, his face, his want. 

“You—” he stutters, swallows, “You don’t have to, my love.” My love. He doesn’t need to say it out loud again now with teeth and tongue, he says it in all the things he does. 

“You have to know that I want you so much. That I want you more than anything, Din.”

“I do know,” he says immediately. “I’ve never doubted that.” 

“I want to show you.”

“You don’t have to. I know—” His other hand comes up to grip yours with both of his, caging your limb within the strength of his fists—to keep himself from touching you anywhere else, you think. But you can feel the intensity of his gaze along your skin, over your bare breasts, quivering with your hitching breaths, water droplets translating the frantic beat of your heart in their trembling on the surface of your skin. The line of your belly, the slope downward to the soft place between your thighs. 

He’d seen the scarring on your hand, it was inevitable as much as you’d wished you could hide the deformity they’d left. As much as you wish you could’ve kept it from him, held an illusion for the rest of your lives together to spare him from the reminder of the things that’d been done, happened, chosen. But now… now he is to be subjected to the whole truth of it. Scars like cobwebs, strangely shimmering in silver lights beneath the surface of your skin—they’d been clever and ingenious in their torture—covering the whole circumference of your left hand up to your elbow. But also, from the lowest point of your last rib, over your right hip, traversing lower down the contours of your skin to wrap around the uppermost swell of your thigh. 

They’d left their mark like they’d intended, and it wasn't something you could ever hide from him, the reality of what’d been done, what you’d chosen. It was obvious in everything, etched into your skin, a chasm in the still present distance between the two of you. 

You feel like a bruise; tender, vulnerable, incongruously desperate to press on it harder and feel that dull throb, dark and ugly and on display. 

His hands go tight around yours again for a moment, before he’s snatching them back to grip his bent knee, white knuckled, silent anger on display when his eyes reach the scarring. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, smoothing a hand over your hip down to your thigh to grip yourself there, digging your fingertips lightly into the plush softness. Your skin vibrates. “It doesn't hurt now.”

“What did they do?” His voice is like gravel, restrained fire-full fury. 

“They wanted to see what it’d take to leave a mark. They figured it out.” The helmet turns away sharply, a short, brutal curse spit from his mouth. The tongue of his mother, beautiful despite his violence. 

“It’s okay, Din.” You take hold of your thigh, pulling it up and apart, spreading yourself for him. Brave, wanting heart, be brave. He turns back immediately. “I want you to see how much I want you,” you whisper. “How much I still need you.” 

You let your fingertips flutter lightly over your swollen, needy sex, and you can hear the obscene, sucking sound of your wet lips spreading apart when you part your legs wide enough for your sex to bloom. Cunt hungry and weeping for him. 

Fuck, he spits, leaning closer, and his hand snaps forward to grip your ankle all the way around, pulling your foot up onto the uncompromising muscle of his thigh—your only point of contact. 

“Show me, cyar’ika. Show me how much that pretty cunt missed me,” he growls. 

You start slow, wide eyes fixed on the dark tee of his vizor, fingertips swirling around your clit slowly, it pulses and throbs and beats to the rhythm you can feel his own heart beating at within his own chest. But you pet it slowly, teasing both of you, and then feel lower down to the clenching mouth of your cunt—fuck, he spits again—slicking your fingers in your sticky wet. You start to rock your hips against the flat of your hand, the sound of your cunt, loud in the quiet hull, nothing to interrupt but the too desperate sound of your mutual panting. His fingers around your ankle are so tight they’ll leave a sore spot, and you can't think of the later hurt now, afraid it'll scare you out of this, all you can focus on is the beat of your cunt, the way it cries for him. 

You swirl your fingertips at your opening, again, again, “Put them inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” And it’s a demand. 

You start with one, slow and tentative, a little, shocked gasp as you probe shallowly within the tight, little hole. Then further, wiggling inside until you’re impaling yourself with your own small finger, the first thing inside of you in so long, and suddenly, you wish it was him. Your eyes fill with tears at the thought, spilling over at the wish that he could’ve been the first thing inside of you after all this time, but the reality that you’re just not ready for it yet. The salted proof of your inevitable shortcomings slide back along your cheeks to drip into your ears. 

“Another,” he demands. “Oh, it sounds so pretty, little one. Give it another.” You pull your single finger out, sucking, wet-cunt sound that he groans in tune with, to press another one in, mewling at the pinch and stretch of it, the slick slide. Yes, just like that. You’re doing so well, he says, a mirror of his earlier words to you today during target practice. “Roll your hips, ride your hand.” You hitch another sob, “Don’t fucking cry,” he grits, pressing your heel hard into the meat of his thigh. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re going to come for me, you’re going to let me see it.” He spreads his thighs wider in his kneeling crouch, pushing his hips forward into nothing, drawing your gaze to the heavy bulge behind the plaquette of his flight pants. He’s so hard. 

You crook your fingers inside yourself, hill of your palm against the swell of your engorged clit, fingertips against the spongey ridge at the front of your cunt, rolling your hips faster, chasing the orgasm you need to give him. Your foot feels numb in his grip, your cunt, on fire, so tight it hurts. Your belly hitches and heaves, open mouth gasping and you cry his name, moaning and writhing wantonly, your stomach slick and glistening again with sweat now instead of water. One of your palms reaches up to take hold of your breast, nipple caught between your fingers, squeezing tight, tight, tight. And suddenly he’s surging forward, letting go of your ankle to lean over you and rip his pants open, freeing his furious erection. The tip is red-purple and swollen fat, drooling a thick string of sloppy, white precum, and he wraps one massive fist around the angry thing. Din, Din, Din. He beats at his cock furiously, the sound of your name, the slick thwack, thwack, thwack of it sends you spilling into your orgasm, belly pulling tight, cunt twisting even tighter. 

“Fuck, fucking come—fucking come,” he snarls as he twists his fist cruelly around the head and the thick white viscosity of his semen starts to spill from the fat head, bubbling up and over his fist and between his fingers, splattering heavy and hot onto your spasming cunt, coating your fingers so that you’re pushing the thick of his come into yourself, slicking you further. “Yes, yes, yes, like that. Let me fucking see it…Look at what you do to me.” And there's so much furious want in his voice, and he’s so big, long and thick, and you know it’s going to hurt when he puts it inside of you for the first time again—you remember how it hurt before, how you loved it—and you’re afraid you’re not going to be able to handle any sort of pain ever again, not even the sort you’d been so hungry for before. 

But your womb pulls tight, pulses and throbs, and suddenly your two skinny fingers arent enough, you want the thick heft of his cock fucking hard and fast and deep inside of you, punching at the deepest spot within you.

His orgasm ends on a fierce groan, panting, thick chest heaving, his head hangs low between his shoulders. You pull your shaking fingers from your clenching hole, and he gives a few last lazy strokes, squeezing the last drops of come from the slick tip to splatter against your pussy. “I fucking missed this—your cunt covered in me.” His dripping cock bobs so close, and you have the sudden insane thought of him just shoving it in, holding you down prone and fucking all of his spend into your sloppy cunt, forcing you to take it and be his again. “I can’t wait to eat it. I can’t wait to fill it with my come again and eat it out of you.” There’s a part of you that might want it, that might wish for it. 

“Maker, Din…” you moan, rubbing the thick semen into your overstimulated clit, your mound, up the curve of your belly, slicking yourself in him.

 If you can’t have his touch, this is enough, and you bring your sticky, soaking fingers up to your mouth, sucking the come from them. He groans, not fair, sitting back on his knees, spent cock hanging obscenely from his open pants, wet and glistening. He reaches behind his head to tug his shirt up and off, leaving his sweaty chest bare and gleaming. Your eyes flutter shut, cupping your cunt in the palm of your hand, covering the slick curve of it, and you arch your back, spreading your thighs further, putting yourself on display for him. 

“Gorgeous, cyar’ika,” he says between pants. “So pretty, my love.” He reaches down to squeeze his half hard cock once more. “I can be patient for you, I promise. You’re so worth it.”

-

He lays beside you in the dark, stretched out long and entirely clothed, but here with you, forced and convinced to share your bed with a line of pillows as a protective moat between the two of you at his own insistence.

You’re on your side, hands folded beneath your smushed cheek, wide eyes searching fruitlessly for the shape of him in the pitch dark. You want to say something else. You want to tell him you love him again, to hear the words fall from your tongue. 

“What are you thinking?” He asks.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” You hum a barely breathed laugh. And then, “I know you’re scared or regretful or worried that we’ll not get back to where we were,” he reads you.

“Yes.”

There’s a name for this…

He sighs long, goes quiet for longer, and then finally: “What’s happened’s happened, which is an expression of faith in the mechanics of the galaxy.”

“Fate?” You muse, a little unbelieving.

Dark red—

“Call it what you want. We met, we separated…you were—gone. We waited. Now we’re here again. It’s meaningful, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You believe in this—fate?” I didn’t think I believed in anything anymore. But I believe in you.

“Call it what you want, but yes.”

—String. 

There’s something about this that you need to consider, chew on. The fact that you’d felt, all your life, cursed to know how a thing would happen, be, end, always. Something like fate, perhaps, the whisper of it making a home for itself within the shell of your ear, and now the truth that he too believes in this thing you’ve always lived with. Destiny, what have you—you believe in the same things, you believe in each other. 

“Will you hold my hand?”

He turns over, reaching to twine his fingers through yours; large, rough palm against small, soft palm. You want to tell him you love him again, you want to hear the words for him, but they feel trapped, tender, timid. 

You’d always thought your destiny fixed, poised, on the tip of your tongue. A thing was what it was birthed unto the galaxy in perpetuity, and no amount of desire could absolve you of its sunken teeth. But this—this desire is like the creation of myth, that dark red thread that goes by the name of fate being pulled taught, humming in accord with a frequency heard only by the two of you. 

Now: “Will you kiss me?” A beat of silence, his fingers around yours going tight, tight. 

“Come here,” his voice blends with the darkness, and tugging you into himself, protective border between your bodies and his hand around your jaw, he slips a kiss onto your tongue. His mouth holds the hot recollection of being alive; the drag of his teeth against your bottom lip, the taste, your fingers weaving through his hair, your names sounding together, a pair because they belong on the same breath. 

You pull back, and it’s only a small brevity, but it’s enough, and that confusion from earlier, that shiver of letting something go or taking it back into yourself, settles. 

You’re afraid or regretful or both, yes, sure. You also find yourself to be, suddenly, forgiving, full of empathy. You won’t be able to have him unless you take possession of yourself first, and on the tail end of a comet breaking across the sky: I love him, but I must also love myself. He deserves someone who loves themself, but more than that, I deserve it too. To be able to give him the things he wants and needs: I deserve to be in love with myself. 

You let the Tartarian memory become nothing.

 Love manifests itself primarily in forgiveness.

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[idontego]

We Should Make Up | Kaji x Reader

Summary: This is kind of a part 2 to the break up headcannon i wrote. Kaji sees you entering a bar and can’t help but seek you out and try to make amends with you after your breakup.

A/n: This was so rushed bc i have somehwere to be so i will more than likely go back and make adjustments to this! Let me know what you think! ALSO TOMORROW’S EPISODE WE GET TO SEE OUR MAN AGAIN IM SOOOO EXCITED!!!!🤍

Warnings: breakups, alcohol, suggestive toxic relationship habits, co-dependency, swearing

It was out of the norm for you to go out, and by go out i mean bar hopping, drinking in public places with your friends or worse- strangers. It had been a few months since you and Kaji split up and as much as you didn’t want to, your friends finally convinced you to go out with them. You wanted to hurl at the idea of Kaji finding out about you going out and even worse, drinking on top of it. It was one thing that he would be upset over, strictly because he always felt the need to watch you and be with you out in public only to protect you and it was another thing, because he imagined how easily you could be taken advantage of if you were intoxicated. Just the thought of these things could easily set him off.

You entered the bar wearing a black mini dress with a corset top, squeezing your rib cage and extenuating your breasts and a regular pair of heels that were semi comfortable, nothing over the top. You didn’t know where this night would end but your friends were sure they’d help you make the most of it.

Meanwhile, Kaji sat in his room preparing to patrol and do his almost daily routine of also checking up on you from afar-watching. He was walking down the same street you were on and was concentrating on individuals around him-scanning the area for any threats, and that’s when he saw you. His eyes immediately widened and his jaw dropped almost to the floor as his lollipop hit the ground. He was shocked seeing you in such close proximity to him and you were wearing that?! And you were here?! But you looked so good, so tempting. His eyes examined your figure until he shook his head and ripped open another lollipop wrapper, tossing it in his mouth. His face of shock quickly turned into anger. He looked left, right, and left again to see if anyone he knew was about to see him enter the same building you were in. Kaji did not go out, ever. He didnt like the people, didnt like the setting, didnt like the idea of sweaty shit faced people rubbing up so close to each other, especially you.

His eyes met yours amongst the crowd- if looks could kill, he would be the embodiment of it. You’ve never seen him glare this hard before. Or at least not at you. “Oh shit.” You mumbled under your breath. You swiftly turned your head around in the opposite direction, which was a sad attempt at playing off seeing him-hoping he didn’t recognize you.

To only make matters worse, when you turned around, you bumped into a guy’s chest causing him to spill his drink. “I’m so sorry. Oh my gosh.” You apologized.

“No worries! I’ll just get another one. Why don’t you come with me to get something for yourself as well.” He said with a big grin on his face.

“Uh, sure!” You replied following him. Could this be your escape from Kaji’s glare? Did he lose you in the crowd by now?

You approached the bar and waited on your drinks when you heard a gruff voice behind you and their body heat against your back. “Hey!” Kaji said with the same glare on his face.

“She has a boyfriend ya’ know.” He proceeded

“Oh, really?” The guy questioned.

“She does.” Kaji confirms. Kaji already made his point very clear to this man and you and his stance and the look on face had ‘do not fuck with me’ written all over it.

You closed your eyes in an attempt to disappear but this was actually happening.

“I dont actually.” You blurted out. “In fact-“ Kaji cut you off grabbing your waist and leading you out side of the bar.

“What the hell are you doing her-“

“Did you really think finding some random drunk guy here would solve all of your problems? What were you thinking? Did he try to get with you?”

“Kaji, that’s not what i was hoping would happen. The girls wanted me to go out with them just for tonight because I’ve declined every other time because it still just didn’t feel right to do something like this even though we aren’t together. You know just as much as i do that i never liked going out or drinking.”

“This dress looks really good on you by the way. It’s a shame i never got to see you in it til’ now.” He said rolling his eyes and completely disregarding what you said.

You blushed at his compliment and your heart began to flutter again. Gosh.. why does he have to have this effect on you. “Kaji, we need to talk.” You said, looking at the ground.

He lifted up your chin, so you’d look him in the eyes for what he was about to say. “I agreeI just want to start off by saying that you don’t know how hard these past few months have been for me. Losing you was one of the hardest things for me. I didn’t know how to cope. My friends tried to help me, but i pushed them away. Everythin’ everyday made me think of you and i was completely consumed with the idea that you were gone for good. I was obsessed with the thought of why we ended things the way we did and I felt like i couldn’t protect you as much as I’d like which drove me even more crazy. I lashed out on anyone that we’d get in fights with-exceeding my limits and going over board because i wanted to make sure people like them never got a hold of you. There’s so much more but i-“

You cut him off with a kiss and your eyes were filled with tears. You had the most intense feeling of regret and sorrow for him and also the mourning of your relationship. You wanted him back. You needed him just as much as he needed you. You wanted to make things right. He rested his hands on either side of your waist and you kissed you back-matching your passion.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” You pulled away from the kiss wiping your tears.

“It’s fine. missed you, y’ know?”

“I can’t ever lose you again. I knew we’d come back tho.” You managed to smile and even let out a giggle while saying.

[pascallllllll1]

Crimson Tide

Pedro Pascal x Reader

Summary: Reader gets her period and Pedro helps;)

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: blood, period talk, swearing, mentions over the counter pain medication, brief daddy kink(common this is about Mr “I’m your daddy” what do you expect?), unprotected sex, if you notice anything else that should have a warning just lmk!

Hi everyone! This was a requested and I hope I did the idea justice. Quick fyi this is my first time attempting to write smut so bare with me y’all!🤣 requests are currently open:)

Regret burned inside you fueling your already emotionally fragile state. The warning signs were right in front of you. First you noticed your breasts engorged this morning getting dressed before work, your nipples aching and chaffing against the rough fabric of even your softest bra.

Then there was the mental health break you had to take at work due to crying so much from the separation anxiety rippling through you because Pedro wasn’t present. In fact he was home working in his office. But the text you’d received from him about going to the gym later and not being home when you’d be arriving set off every panic alarm in your body at the thought of being away from him any longer than originally planned.

Finally, and what should’ve had you sprinting to take 2 blessed tablets of Midol, was the slight pressure building in your lower back followed by tight twisting tendrils of sharp pain wrapping around to cup your lower belly around an hour before you’d be heading home for the day.

The entire 30 minute drive home the pain only intensified with each passing minute causing you to grip the steering wheel so hard your knuckles turned white. After pulling up the driveway and into the garage to park the cramps had you doubled over kneeling on the ground the second you’d gotten out of your seat. You sobbed silently praying for the pain to ease up enough to allow you the chance to run inside quickly and down some painkillers, and as if mother nature heard your cries she relieved enough of your anguish for you to accomplish just that before starting up again.

Now, you lay naked curled in your fuzzy Sherpa blanket centre of yours and Pedro's massive shared bed in a nest of blankets, impatiently waiting for the pills to work their magic feeling trapped in your body. The world is so unfair.

***

A hand removes the blanket from over your head ruining your perfectly cocooned bundle of warmth and has your eyes hesitantly blinking open from your nap.

“Are you ok, pretty girl?” A deep angelic voice asks. You look up to see Pedro let out a sympathetic sigh before shedding himself of any clothing and joining you in your nest.

“It hurts so bad Pedro and I think I’m bleeding now.” The thought of getting up out of bed right now and away from Pedro’s safe embrace to put in a tampon has tears spilling all over again. Massaging your sore belly he shushes you and tells you to relax and let him hold you. After some time passed and you’d calmed, Pedro let his right hand travel between your sticky thighs tracing the wet skin closest to the source of your womanly problems.

“I can help you, let me help you.” He begs starting to suck and bite little marks down your throat while running his hands up and down your sides. Once he arrives at your chest he's wrapping his mouth around your pebbled nipple sucking on it before releasing the bud with a pop! He proceeds to kitten lick the sensitive area making your pussy clench around nothing. With your growing neediness you wrap your legs around Pedro’s hips locking him against you.

“Please, I need you.” You gasp. Lifting his head up Pedro lands both his hands on either side of you caging you in, you place one firm hand on his shoulder the other one weaves your fingers through his thick hair tugging hard earning you a throaty groan in response. Pedro then leans forward to capture your mouth in a sloppy kiss, his tongue fighting yours for dominance. One of his hands is moving to line up the fat head of his cock to your fluttering hole eager to welcome him home, the initial stretch of him filling you has your head falling back onto the pillow and crying out his name.

“T-take me so well.” He mutters, starting to slowly drag his cock back out and giving no warning before quickly burying himself to the hilt deep inside you then relentlessly begins pounding into you. If you weren’t so cock drunk maybe you’d be more embarrassed by the wet squishing sounds filling the room but at the moment your only concern was with how full Pedro made you feel.

“You feel so good baby-mmmphfucK. That’s right. Fuck your self on my cock princess.” His praise has you damn near strangling his cock from how tight you squeeze around him and being the good girl you are, you give him exactly what he wants, continuing to roll your hips meeting each of his hard thrusts.

“So close daddy.” You whimper to him feeling the pressure of your impending orgasm building ready to burst but needing just a little more to get you there.

“Sssh baby I got you. Daddy’s got you.” He coos at you as he reaches down to draw fast circles on your clit and sinks his face into your neck pecking soft kisses behind your ear.

“I-I-“ you gasp, unable to speak.

“That’s my good girl.” He groans out before asking, “you want daddy’s cum now?” You nod your head eagerly, mumbling in confirmation still too dazed out of your mind to respond with real words. He loves when you get like this, too drunk on him and his cock to form any thought or sentence your only purpose being to let him use you. His warm breath fans over the skin of your neck with each grunt and moan he blesses you with. Pedro’s thrusts become more erratic and sloppy as his high approaches before stilling inside you and shakily painting your walls with his seed softly reciting his love for you like a mantra. A peaceful quiet takes over as the two of you bask in the warmth and comfort of each other’s bodies.

A final kiss is placed on your lips before Pedro’s rolling out of bed to run you a hot bath, he’d planned to clean up and redo the bed while you soaked and unwind. He turns around to double check you’re ok before entering the attached bathroom and meets your tired regard with a sheepish grin admiring your fucked out current state;

“…No… prom..ises..” You hardly get out. Shaking his head, Pedro just lovingly laughs to himself before going back to his initial task of running you a bath.

[anama-cara]

fight club (dark!joel miller x f!reader; dead dove do not eat)

Summary: Post outbreak set in the Boston QZ. You decide to go against Joel in an underground QZ fight club for some extra coin. Joel doesn't take kindly to the competition and decides to punish you in his own special way. Word count: 3.6k

Warnings/tags: Dead Dove Do Not Eat. 18+ minors dni. Unprotected PIV, fingering (f receiving), slapping, choking, hair pulling, violence, blood, degradation, curse word, age gap, dark content, noncon, dubcon.   

a/n: This is the darkest one I’ve written so far so let me know what you think. Author is 18+ Written for #deaddovedecember2023 hosted by @romana-after-dark

You’ve had your fair share of blunders and brushes with death, but this has got to be one of the stupidest things you’ve ever done. But you’re desperate. Really freaking desperate. And desperate people throw out all caution and logic and good old fashioned common sense. So here you are, sweaty hair plastered to your forehead, heart racing, knuckles bloody. And you’re about to make another terrible mistake.

You’ve been in the Boston QZ for about 2 years now and every side hustle and grift you’ve tried has ultimately failed. One of your fellow con artists mentioned some back-alley action, an illegal underground fight club. So you follow his direction to the hideout, through an alley to the back of an abandoned building and down the stairs to the basement. You think the place must have been used for storage before, its mostly unfinished. It’s a large square room with low ceilings. All the furniture has been pushed to the sides of the room, leaving the center open. There’s a mob of people shouting and cheering, mostly large men but you spot a couple of females too. You recognize a few faces amongst the crowd as smugglers you’ve previously dealt with. There are a few lamps in the corners of the room but it’s still dimly lit. There’s a poker table pushed up against the wall, bottles of alcohol, and a caged rooster in the back. You guess this place does everything – speakeasy, gambling, cock fighting, and the ring.

There’s smoke in the air that burns your eyes and when you walk little clouds of dust follow in your footsteps. The smell of sweat, alcohol, and cigarettes engulfs your senses. The place is packed and noisy with swearing and shouting. You push through a throng of people to get to the bookie sitting on a high stool in the corner. She’s wearing a red and black flannel with black jeans and combat boots. She nods to you as you approach.

“Never seen you here, but if you’re here that means one of us trusted you enough let you in. Welcome. So, what can I do for you? Who ya bettin’ on?” She nods to the ring.

Ring is a generous term. Really it’s a cleared away area in the center of the room with a white circle on the floor drawn in chalk. There are two burly men inside fighting it out, fists flailing and blood flying. You notice that one has several teeth missing and cauliflower ear. He seems to be winning.

You turn back to her. “I’m not betting, I’m here to fight.”

She pauses to read your face and once she sees you’re serious she chuckles. She looks you up and down, taking in your skinny arms and round unscarred face. She holds out her hand. “The name’s Tess.”

You take her hand with a firm grip.

“Alright girl, you’re in. But I hope you know what you’re doing.” She gives you all the rules. Basically, you win if your opponent steps out of the ring or they don’t get up after a 10 second count. “I’ll be rootin’ for ya.” She says as you turn to leave. She sounds sincere.

You’re already starting to feel sick. Your stomach is turning, you’re so nauseous and the loud noises and metallic smell of blood isn’t helping. You go to a corner room, as far away as possible, and sit on a flipped over crate to wait. You’re wearing a loose t-shirt with your green cargo jacket overtop, black leggings, and your combat boots. You watch your swinging feet, trying to calm your nerves and not think about the sound of crunching bone you just heard. You wonder whose nose was just broken, Big Guy or Toothless.

As you’re sitting, zoning out, you feel someone walk up beside you. Your head snaps up.

“Hi there.”

Now this is a face you definitely don’t know. You’d remember him. He’s probably in his late 40’s, tall and broad shouldered with patchy facial hair, a strong nose and jaw line, and a pinched brow that makes it look like he’s permanently scowling. But there’s something in his dark brown eyes that catches your attention. It’s alluring and yet it makes you very uneasy. There’s a danger hidden there. He sits on the crate next to you with a sigh. He’s wearing jeans and a tight grey t-shirt that shows off his sculped chest and hugs his tanned biceps. That catches your attention too. You watch his muscles flex as he lowers himself onto the crate. Maybe you’re staring too long. He kicks you crate with a heavy boot.

“Hello?”

Even his voice is entrancing, gruff, dark, masculine, with a thick Texan accent. You blink and clear your throat. “Hi.” You say flatly. You try to appear confident and nonchalant, like you’re bored with this whole thing. Like you’re not scared shitless right now. You’re trying to convince yourself just as much as him.

“You come here often?” He asks and you can’t help but smile at the lame joke. His eyes move to your lips as you smile and his own form a wicked grin. It scares you. Your mouth falls back.

“Um no, this is my first time here. My first match in the ring.”

“You’re fighting?” He sounds equally surprised and impressed. His eyes light up and that predatory grin appears on his face again. “Little thing like you… going up against these grown men. You must be one tough little girl.”

You shift your weight, his words making you uncomfortable.

He quietly adds, “How I like ‘em. A fighter.”

Before you get a chance to respond there’s a roar of the crowd and you watch as they drag a body from the ring and prop him against the wall. You hope he’s just unconscious. You turn back to the stranger but he’s gone. The crowd quiets and you hear Tess call out, “Next round is against my partner Joel. Y’all know Joel. Any takers?”

You get to your feet. The crowd is too thick to see the opponent in the ring. But you don’t even care to see what he looks like first, no point sizing him up. You know all these fighters will be bigger and stronger than you. You have to do it now before you lose the small amount of courage you have left. You can’t sit still any longer.

“Here.” You call out. As you walk to the ring you tell yourself over and over again that they may have more muscle, but you rely on your speed and your skill.

You push through the circle of onlookers, most don’t even seem to notice you or bother to move out of the way. You’re too short to see over their heads so you raise your hand in the air and repeat, “here!” Finally they part. Faces look down at you as you pass and you can read the looks of disbelief and amusement in their eyes. You step over the line of chalk and face Tess. “I challenge,” you say in your most confident voice. Tess looks uncertain, even worried for you. Her throat bobs and she looks like she might say something, but instead she just nods. You turn to face your opponent. Oh shit, it’s the stranger. Joel. You know his name now. He’s giving you that horrible predatory grin again as he looks you up and down shamelessly. He’s so cocky it boils your blood.

“Well look who it is, Newbie.”

You snarl in response but he just laughs at you.

“Begin,” Tess announces.

You start circling each other, moving clockwise as you study each other’s movements, looking for the right time to pounce. You kick up dust as you slide your feet. Your boot catches on something sticky, dried blood. You push the thought from your mind, concentrating on watching Joel. You observe his muscles flexing, his balance, the length of his strides and his footwork. You can tell he’s strong, but he’s slower. You’ll use that to your advantage. During these brief moments of sizing each other up you’ve kept your own strengths hidden. You copied his pace, circling him just as slowly with deliberately timed steps. You want your real fighting style to remain a surprise. You want this fight over quickly, a few strong punches from him and you’d be lights out. You know you can’t overpower him and keep him down for a 10 count, so the only way is to trick him into stepping over the white line.

The crowd is getting impatient, their jeering getting louder and more vulgar as they scream at him to pummel you. With no warning, no tell, he lunges at you and lands a right hook into your jaw, rattling your brain. You dodge his incoming blow, ducking under his arm and side stepping past him. So maybe he’s not so slow after all, that’s okay, you’ll just be faster. Your jaw is aching and you taste blood in your mouth. You spit on the floor and Joel smiles. Just one punch and you’re already dizzy. He closes the gap in one step, towering above you with a vicious gleam in his eye. He does a jab cross combo and you manage to block both. As he’s pulling his fist back you land a hook right into his ribs lightning fast, then quickly pull your punch back and step back into your fighting stance with your guard raised. He looks a little surprised. You actually snuck a blow in. The crowd cheers and his surprise turns to anger. It chills your blood and weakens your knees but you stand your ground. Furious, he attacks you in a brutal volley, jab, cross, hook, elbow. He’s pummeling you with hit after hit and you’re moving swiftly, weaving under his fists as you step backwards, leading him closer to the edge of the ring. Your heel touches the chalk. He throws a powerful cross but he’s late on the recoil so you grab his wrist, leaning into his momentum and pulling his arm, swinging him to the right. He takes a single step to correct his balance. A single step that’s out of the circle.

You drop his wrist as the crowd erupts in shouts of approval at the surprise and swearing as bets are lost. You turn on your heel, not even bothering to look at Joel as you march up to Tess.

“Well color me impressed. If you come back again you could probably make a lot more ration cards. Everyone likes an underdog ya know.” Spectators flock to her, passing up cigarettes, pills, bullets, and food, you even spot a piece of gum. After a minute of tallying she hands you a stack of ration cards. You stuff them in your jacket pocket and nod farewell. This should tide you over for a while, at least until you find another smuggling job. Tess seems okay but you hope you never have to come back here.

You rush out of the hideout and exit into the alleyway where you lean up against the wall and breathe in deeply, relishing the fresh cool night air. You close your eyes for a moment and relax your head back against the cool concrete, letting your body calm down after all the adrenaline.

A hand wraps around your throat, squeezing and cutting off your air. Gasping, your eyes flutter open and you stare wildly at the man in front of you. Joel. His face is flushed and his eyes are black. You choke out, “J-Joel, what-“ but he squeezes even tighter and your plea dies.

“Shut up bitch,” he snaps. Oh you made a big mistake. Now you understand what kind of man Joel is. You humiliated him when you won. You took his power. And he wants it back.

“How dare you trick me like that.”

You’re desperately shaking your head, unable to speak. He slams your head back into the wall. You feel your scalp scrap against the concrete and blood seep into your hair.

“You think you’re better than me, is that it? Huh?” With his other hand he grabs a fistful of your hair. “Huh? Answer me!” he shouts.

You shake your head desperately. He feels the blood on the back of your head now and slides his hand from your hair. Holding it up, he angles his hand to better see in the light from the streetlamp, admiring the sight of your blood on his fingertips. His other fingers are still pushing into your throat, bruising the skin underneath. You have to get out of here. Not knowing what else to do you kick him in the groin, hoping he’ll drop you or at least loosen his grip. It works and you wrench free. You run one, two steps before he catches you and slams you into the wall. You squeal. His hands pin your wrists against the cold wall by your sides and his body is pressed into yours, squishing you against the wall so tightly you can’t move. His chest is heaving and his breath is in your face as he looks down at you.

“Joel please,” you plead desperately.

“Oh now you have manners.” He scoffs. “Too late little girl,” he says darkly. You whine in desperation and his lethal gaze shift to one of greed. “Oh honey you’re giving me a new idea for how to punish you.” He smiles and you watch as lust clouds his gaze. You feel his cock twitch against your middle. Your eyes widen in terror and you gulp. His predator gaze deepens as he clocks your fear. He feeds off of it. He takes your wrists and pins them above your head with one large hand.

“Gotta show you some respect little girl. Put ya in your place.” He leans his hips into you, pushing you deeper into the hard wall as he grinds into you. With no warning he slaps you across your face. It stings as you feel tears forming in your eyes.

“That’s better. Cry for me girly. Think you can beat me, no, I’ll show who’s in control here.” His other hand other slips beneath the hem of your t-shirt and reaches up to grab at your breast. He gropes you roughly, his cold callous fingers kneading into you. He flicks your nipple and you cringe at the pain, but harden under his touch as he rubs it between his finger and thumb. He groans and his hips grind into you again, rutting up against you and pushing you roughly. You feel your skin grating against the rough concrete behind you. He kisses you sloppily, greedily making out with your unresponsive mouth as you try to turn away. He drops his hand from your breast and slides his hand around your neck again.

“I’m gonna let go and yer' gonna take off your pants. Got that little girl?” You spit in his face. He laughs like a mad man. “You’re a fighter. I said I liked ‘em feisty. You remembered, huh girly?”

Then he abruptly stops and he squeezes so tightly you see black spots. “But right now I need you to behave.” You nod vigorously.

“Good girl.” He releases his tight grip and drops your hands. You undo your pants and push them down with your underwear and are about to step out of them when he stops you. “Leave it.” It restricts your movement more, you can’t run.

 “That’s it, good job girly. Now me.” He commands. You undo his belt with shaking fingers and tug his zipper down. You tentatively pause and he smacks your hip. “I didn’t stay stop,” he growls. You tug his pants and boxers down to his thighs and his cock springs free. He’s so big and angry looking that you start to cry.

“Fuckin’ weak.” He wraps a hand around the base of his cock and strokes himself slowly as you watch. The thumbs the tip of his cock where a bead of precum is leaking out. He raises he fingers to your mouth and slides his thumb over your lower lip roughly before pushing it inside your mouth.

 “No biting.” His thumb glides over your teeth and he pushes further. Your tongue flicks against him instinctively and his cock twitches. “You like this girly? You a little slut?” With his thumb deep in your mouth you’re unable to answer but your eyes glare at him. He just smirks. He taps your jaw with his other fingers then brings them to your lips as you open your mouth wider. You suck on his fingers, saliva gathering on them. When he's satisfied, he pulls them out with a lewd wet noise. He pets your check once with the back of his hand. You feel the scratch of the dried blood as his split knucks skim across your face.

He reaches down between you and slides two fingers into you without hesitation. The stretch burns and your muscles clench in surprise. “Fuck, so tight.” He slides his fingers in and out, punishing your hole as you try to adjust. “We gotta stretch you out a bit if you’re gonna fit this big cock.” He pushes another finger in and you scream. He glares at you and silences your scream with his mouth. He bites your lower lip as he fucks you with his fingers. You taste blood as he pulls way.

After a few more thrusts he feels your body adjust and your slick starts to seep onto his hand. He laughs, “Not such a tough girl now huh?” Your face reddens in embarrassment as your body betrays you.

He slides his fingers out and slaps your wet pussy. “Just a little slut. Knew you wanted this cock.” He pushes his fingers through your folds, playing with you and gathering your slick. He slides his fist down his cock, spreading the wetness.

 “Wanna see you cry on this cock.” With his fist wrapped around the base he guides himself and notches at your entrance then pushes all the way inside you, filling you up and splitting you open. You gasp at the stretch and struggle against him. He clicks his tongue. “None of that, stay still,” he grunts as he pulls out to the tip then slams back in to you. “Gotta take your punishment,” another hard dominating thrust.  

“Gonna ruin your little pussy.” He’s hitting something deep inside you with each painstakingly hard thrust. You feel your body responding, heat pooling and your walls flutter around him. He pulls out halfway and pushes back in, setting a new shallow pace as he fucks you against the wall. It’s faster and more desperate. You see sweat forming on his brow. You think you could probably get out of his grip right now if you tried, he’s distracted and out of breath already. But for some reason you don’t. You stay still as he brutally rails you, your back arching against the wall causing you’re your shoulder blades to sting as the scrape the wall.

The sounds of skin slapping slick skin and groaning fill the narrow alley. The street light flickers and for the first time it dawns on you that anyone could walk by and see you. You shiver and try to push against Joel’s hold but he growls at you through gritted teeth. “I said stay still.”

He’s close, you can see it on his scrunched-up face, so you relax and decide to just let him finish. Your body is marked with purple fingerprints and red marks where he slapped you. The blood in your hair has dried. Maybe it was stupid to fight him, you think as he continues to pound you. He feels good inside you, you can’t deny that. You close your eyes and focus on that feeling now, your hips moving to grind into him. It building and building and you can’t stop it as you come on his cock with a cry. Your walls squeeze his cock and it’s enough to send him spilling into you. His muscles twitch and he presses his entire body up against you, flattening you with his full weight as he comes inside you with a groan. You feel the warm gush of his cum inside you as it spreads and fills you. He sighs and slides out with a lewd squelching sound.

“Hmmmm, hope you learned your lesson little girl.”

Your legs are shaking, cum trickling down your thighs. He steps back and releases his hold on your wrists. You slide down the wall and sit crumpled on the cold ground. He drags his cock against your check once before stuffing it back into his pants and fixing his belt. He smirks down at you, proud of his work. “See ya around,” he says before stalking off, leaving you sitting alone in the dirty alley, pants still around your ankles.

You look down and watch his seed seeping out of you. You gulp, feeling your sore throat ache from his chokehold. You swipe your fingers over your cheek, wiping away your tears cooling against the night air. Your fingers brush against your bloodied swollen lips from his crushing kiss and drift to your sides where you see red prints marking your skin. Your fingers slide lower and find the wetness on your thighs. Without thinking you draw your fingers up to your mouth and suck, tasting him. Hand in your mouth you snap back to reality and glance down the alley to make sure no one is looking. You scrambling up, hand against the wall in support. You hurriedly pull up your pants and rush out of the alley in humiliation.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Series Masterlist

*Click here to be added to taglists.

Chapter 6

Warnings: Allusions to abuse, Reader’s poor mental health

It was nearly dusk when the three of you finally reached the prison gates. You had awoken a few hours earlier but remained quiet, only taking breaks when the men did. You didn’t want to bother them, especially Daryl, with anything trivial. Everything already seemed so fragile. 

Your first experience with a walker had been terrifying. You didn’t know what you had been expecting but seeing a rotting human face beneath the water’s surface just as its slimy fingers had wrapped around your ankle was not it. You had been so scared that you hadn’t had the sense of mind to watch it being handled. 

Now, still cradled in Daryl’s arms, you had a front row seat. There were several of the dead shuffling around the gates, making sounds that had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. Rick was carefully circling Daryl, making sure none of the corpses managed to get too close while the gate slid open. You assumed the archer didn’t set you down because you were unable to defend yourself. You did feel mighty safe where you were. 

Once the gate was closed and locked, your legs were lowered until your feet touched the ground. There were a few people there, and every eye was on you. Absently, you took a step back and placed yourself just behind Daryl’s shoulder. 

“Who’s this?” A woman with shorn silver hair asked. Her hand was on the handle of a knife on her belt, but her expression was kind. 

“This is Y/N.” Rick supplied, hugging a young boy against his side. The action made the large hat on the kid’s head tilt, and he gave a look of annoyance as he corrected it. “Daryl did some… bargaining at one of the places we visited so she was allowed to leave.”

“Allowed?” The kid asked, watching you with a curious expression. 

“S’a long story.” Daryl huffed, beginning the trek up toward the main building with you right on his heels. There were people in the tower you passed, mere silhouettes in the dimming light, but Daryl waved after a man’s voice called out in greeting. Aside from that, the outside was void of people. 

The archer opened a large metal door and held it, letting you pass through before following. There was no one just inside but you could hear conversations and movement further ahead. You didn’t seem to be heading for that though. You were guided up a small set of stairs to someone’s living area. Considering Daryl pulled off his vest and draped it over the railing, you surmised it was likely his. 

“Wait here. M’a see where Rick wants ta put ya.” 

You sat down on the mattress, pulling your knees to your chest. “Could I… I’d like to stay with you.”

“Ain’t gon’ happen.” He replied instantly. There was no bite but sounded resolute. 

“Please?” You pressed, hugging your legs tighter. “I don’t want to be with strangers.”

“Lady, I am a stranger!” Daryl yelled, jabbing a finger into his own chest. His shoulders fell when you flinched almost violently, reining in his exasperation with a deep breath. 

“Yes, but… you paid for me. Bought me, fair and square.” You wiped angrily at your eyes, cursing yourself for not holding your composure in front of him. This was not what you were taught. Big Jazz would have flogged you. It was clear to you that you continued to push your luck with Daryl. Eventually, his intentions would be made clear. Maybe he just liked to play with his food first. “That means that you’re the closest thing to…family that I have.”

That made something in his chest hurt. “That’s why ya need ta be with them.”

“But—”

“Ain’t nothin’ else ta say. Wait here.” He snapped, turning his back on you before you watched him disappear down the stairs. 

You sat in the corner of the cell assigned to you, knees pulled to your chest, making yourself as small as possible. It reminded you so much of your cage in the back of Big Jazz’s club. This one at least had a bed, but without a customer in it, it felt wrong to use it. 

Even more confounding was that the cell door had been left open and a sheet hanged in the open space. “For privacy” the woman called Carol had told you.  She had brought you fresh clothes, guessing your size and worrying once she saw you again that they might swallow you whole. They laid in a neat, folded pile on the mattress. A bowl of warm stew was offered but you had turned your head, too nauseated from the anxiety clawing at your gut to even think of eating. 

Carol had offered to help you settle in, even suggesting she brush your hair. You had just stared at her, confused at her kindness when you knew she was above you in every way. The girls at the club would never offer such consideration. Some had been nice enough, but given your ‘history,’ they mostly chose to use you as a scapegoat when things would go wrong for them. 

Carol had been fully dressed, from her shirt and camisole to her booted feet. It was a wonder Daryl let her get away with that. That led to the thought that maybe Daryl wasn’t actually the man in charge. You’d have to tread carefully if that was the case. Any of the men could be leading and you couldn’t slip up like you had so many times in front of the archer. 

“Y/N?” Carol called from behind the curtain. “May I come in?” You pulled your legs impossibly closer and didn’t answer. “If you don’t answer, I’m going to assume it’s okay for me to come in.” She added in a no nonsense tone. Fear churned in your belly, so unsure of this new place and its inhabitants. You felt as though you were walking on eggshells already and no one seemed to be giving you any real direction. “Coming in.” The sheet lifted and Carol ducked below it, looking to the bed first before eventually spotting you in the corner. “Now, what on earth are you doing over there?”

She crouched to your level but didn’t advance any closer. “Did you not want to get changed? I only wanted to wash the clothes you have and return them to Daryl but that can wait until tomorrow if you’re more comfortable.”

Your fingernails were digging into the sides of your legs, your face drifting lower and lower behind your knees to hide from her. She seemed kind, but looks could be deceiving in the world you lived in now. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Carol shifted to sit on the floor, cross-legged. Her piercing blue eyes seemed to be sweetly picking you apart, analyzing you with a calmness that made you even more uncomfortable. “Alright.” She finally said as she climbed to her feet. “When you’re feeling more settled in, we can talk. I think you might find we have a lot in common.” 

Taking two steps, she paused. She pursed her lips and picked up the pile of clothing. You thought she meant to take items back but she simply placed them on the small table across from the bed. With slow, deliberate movements, she turned down the blanket and fluffed the pillow. “Goodnight.” She smiled that soft smile and lifted the blanket, letting it fall behind her. 

You waited what you thought might have been at least a couple of hours, well after the prison had gone quiet. With practiced silence, you snatched the blanket from the bed and pulled the sheet aside. No one seemed to be awake. Your bare feet hardly made a sound while padding across the ledge and down the stairs. You couldn’t stay in that cell a moment longer. Consequences be damned. 

Daryl opened the door to the cellblock with seasoned care. The sun was barely up. Most everyone would still be asleep. He had caught a couple of hours after Carol had come to collect you, then he took the night watch to have some time outside to just think. His head had been a mess ever since you came tumbling into his life. Well, technically, he had put you there. 

He didn’t regret it. You deserved to be free but you were now in a world where therapy and support groups didn’t exist. He had brought you to a prison full of traumatized people, hoping someone could help you get your head on straight. Hope. Did he really hope for anything anymore? It hadn’t really got him anywhere. 

Still, he hoped you would settle in with the people there. He hoped you had found some sort of comfort with a small meal and an actual bed. He hoped you had slept well your first night. For someone who didn’t dare to hope, he was sure throwing a lot out there for you. 

He didn’t even realize he had stopped to stare down toward the cells during his thoughts of you. Ready to slap himself, he scrubbed a hand over his face and then through his hair. Carol would have come to him if there had been any problems. The archer shook his head and continued toward his perch, ready to forego breakfast and get some actual sleep. If his brain would just shut the fuck up. 

He climbed the stairs as quietly as possible, even as he heard the tell tale sounds of others beginning their day. They could all do without him for a few hours. Maybe if you were informed he was sleeping, you’d feel compelled to stay closer to the cells and not wander into his personal space. 

Once again, hope had failed him. As he brought both boots down onto the metal floor of his perch, his shoulders slumped and he let his head drop back with a sound that could only be described as a frustrated groan. 

You were there, curled up on a blanket below the foot of his mattress. Sound asleep. 

[gretavanbear]

Behind The Steel

[a/n : h...hi..... i haven't posted in so long. i hope u guys enjoy this lil thing i wrote. i definitely want to do a part two at some point.]

His bike was always his most prized possession, the way he felt when riding it was an incomparable feeling. The first time he rode it was a life changing moment for him- the wind drifting through his hair, the roar of the engine. It was pure animalistic adrenaline that coursed through his veins; wanting to make her roar like he did was extremely exciting. Nothing could amount to how powerful he felt in the cage, feeling weightless and full of control. 

His best friend initially helped him build it, making it extremely safe to be in and ride around as crazy as he can get. knowing his biker friends, sometimes it really could get crazy in there. 

It became somewhat of a ritual to have cage meets at his house every last friday of the month, where all his friends and acquaintances would come and try out the cage. Sometimes they’d have their girlfriends stand in the middle, building on the anticipation of driving around them. Jake didn’t understand that; wanting someone to stand in a potentially dangerous setting for a couple minutes. Maybe because he saw himself as a lone wolf, him and his bike. How it was supposed to be. 

Sure, he’d see someone now and then but it was purely to let out everything that was bottled in, needing some release sometimes. 

As he were riding home, he thought about all the preparation for tonight’s meet. Had he ordered the keg? Yes. Did he get enough wood for the bonfire? Yep. He tended to worry for nothing, knowing his organized self; it was truly out of habit to worry over little things. 

Jake turned off the bike in his garage, making sure she was nice and safe inside. Naming her the beloved was something dear to him; his friends all giving their bikes something corny or sexy as they said, like “kitty” or “princess”. 

But the beloved was not just some sexy bike, she made him feel things, power. And she was much more special to him than just a method of transportation. As he started caressing her with the clean soapy rag, his phone interrupted his music and began ringing. 

“Jake?” it was Jeremy, his best friend. 

“Yeah?” 

“Dude… I’m so sorry but I can’t make it tonight.” Jake groaned, the meets were never the same without Jeremy. 

“Why? What’s up?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes for a second- waiting on his dumb excuse. 

“My parents want me to go meet this mechanic professor because my name was brought up somehow during my dad’s company dinner. I don’t know.. they really want me to go” He explained. Jake paused for a second before responding. 

“That sounds like a great opportunity, Jere. Don’t feel bad, just don’t miss next month’s meet, yeah?” He smiled softly as he waited for his response. 

“Of course, dude. I promise.” He replied, saying bye and hanging up. 

Jake sighed as his music played once the call was over, washing his bike with intense care. Before he could even notice the time passing, people were already showing up to his house. Thankful to be living on a secluded area with a large piece of land, there were no neighbors to be bothered by. 

JAKE

As time flew by, people began showing up to your house, gathering in your back yard. The kegs were set up, the string lights were plugged in, and of course; the cage was set up. There was a row of bikes neatly parked by the side of your house, awaiting for their turn. Though you always went first, no matter what. You passed by your acquaintances and friends, greeting them with a big smile and telling them to help themselves to the keg or drinks inside. 

The bonfire was burning bright, illuminating your surroundings with a beautiful golden glow. 

You passed by your garage to get the beloved, her cherry red color standing out to you, making your heart race. You took her off her stand and brought her to the door of the garage, someone stopping you in your tracks. 

Jeremy’s sister. 

She was only a year younger than the both of you and even though it wasn't much of a time difference, Jeremy did not want her at your house especially during cage meets. Though there she was, looking up at you with a smirk as she leaned on the side of the door. 

“What are you doing here?” You pushed the bike stand down with your foot, resting your arm on the bike. 

“Brother’s out of town. Thought I’d be in the clear for a free show.” She spoke, crossing her arms. 

“You know you can’t, Jere wouldn’t want you here.” You state. 

“Yeah? Who’s gonna tell him?” she countered. You stood back a little in shock. 

“I will. You know how protective he is.” You sigh, looking down at the bike and then back at her. 

“Let’s make a bet, Kiszka.” You open your mouth to disagree but she continues talking. “If I can make one round in the cage with you, you can take me home. If I fail, you tell Jeremy and I’ll deal with him.” She says, confidently. You’re taken aback a little, her confidence roaming around the tight space of your garage. 

She’s always been around, even when you and Jere were younger. You’d always done your best to ignore her even though she was a hell of a tease, and now that he was away you saw it as your chance. 

“You know what? Fine. Let’s see you fail, darlin’.” You smirk, kicking the stand up and walking towards the cage with the beloved, her following you. 

As you arrived to the cage, you settled the bike inside, Y/N following you in. She stood on the red X on the floor, the old tape used as a marking for where people would get their partners to stand. She looked at you with a smirk, though you could see a slight shimmer in her eye. You knew she trusted you, but you were up for a challenge. 

You watched as she took her jacket off, throwing it outside of the cage, it landed on the ground. You zipped up your leather jacket, tucking your necklace inside your neckline. You gave her one good look before putting your helmet on, pulling down the eye mask. 

You could hear the metal gate close, locked shut. The voices cheering on the outside, the music playing faintly in the background. All these distractions but she was the only thing you could focus on. She wore a tight black longsleeve satin dress with some black combat boots, she looked fucking amazing. It just excited you even more. 

You could hear her sucking in a breath as you straddled the beloved, your hand on the handles. You turn her on and roar the engine, the adrenaline moving through you. You kick up the stand and begin circling her across the cage, slowly moving higher and higher as you increase the speed, taking your time with it. 

Once you feel stable enough, you take your right hand off the handle, and begin dragging it gently across her shoulder, increasing the speed of your bike, revving the engine even louder as you watch her jump a little, but you can tell your touch helps her nerves. You bite your bottom lip to contain your smirk- unsuccessfully. Your hand caresses her shoulders, her stomach, her chest slightly. She closes her eyes and smiles in content, which makes you go even faster. Her eyes open once again and you can feel them on you. Ten seconds left of your time in the cage, your hand drags against her whole body, god she feels amazing. 

You hear the loud horn that alarms you the minute is over, and you slow down, to a stop. Your hair is stuck to your forehead by the time you take your helmet off, but all you can focus on is the way she’s smiling at you, how beautiful she looks, how wonderful that dress fits her. 

“So? You gonna tell him?” She smirks, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

“I think I can keep a lil secret..” You sigh, smiling down at her. 

-

The two of you walked over to your driveway with the beloved. You had borrowed an extra helmet off a friend since you didn’t own another one. You knew where she lived, and it wasn’t far, but you were more worried about if you’d be able to contain yourself from not kissing her, the way she affected you was something you never felt before. 

You straddled the bike once again as she put her helmet on. “I’m going to hold my hand out so it’s easier for you to get on, you’ll need to hold on tightly because I’m going to be going pretty fast.” You said, holding your hand out. She took it and climbed over the bike, settling herself closely behind you. 

“Like that?” She asked. You smirked behind your helmet. 

“Closer, love. Wouldn’t want you sliding off..” You smiled. She scooted closer and you could feel her chest against your back, it made your heart flutter. Your hands made their way to the handles as you turned on the bike once more, beginning your journey to her house. 

As the wind drifted through the hair sticking out your helmet, your hand drifted to her thigh, caressing it a little. You felt her arms tighten around your waist, and her fingers slowly make their way to the hem of your jacket. You sucked in a breath, trying to focus on the road. Her hands slid underneath your jacket, underneath your shirt, until she caressed your chest gently. You wondered if she could feel your heartbeat, she probably could.. It was beating so fast. You let out a shaky breath and told yourself you’d be at her house soon. 

Parked. Finally, you kicked down the stand. She removed her hands from your shirt, and hopped off the bike. You also got off and removed your helmet, resting your ass on the seat of the bike as you faced her. She removed her helmet and shook her head a little, to let her hair loose. She nearly took your breath away, the beauty taking over. 

“Thanks for the ride.” She smiled, handing the helmet over to you. 

“Thanks for the massage.” You smirked. 

“Anytime” She said, stepping closer. You looked down at her, a slight shimmer in the reflection of her dark orbs. “I like riding with you,” She paused, leaning in. “It’s so…” She paused once more, her lips so close to yours. “Intimate.. Isn’t it?” She said. 

You nodded, your lips parted a little. 

“Are you going to kiss me goodnight, Kiszka?” She said, and you didn’t reply. You kissed her gently, her lips soft like satin, you could drown in them. She was so soft, like honey, a warmth you didn’t know you needed until right now. She pulled away so gently, almost as if she was afraid it would hurt you. 

“Goodnight.. See you at your next meet..” She smiled, waving a little before going inside her house, leaving you speechless.

{taglist:

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