#the true reason he got chained is because of his long ass ears being too scary to the other bishops

[blessedshortcake]

Hes hearing all of us out

Every time i look in the cotl tag people give Narinder longer and longer ears and it makes me crack up. Love how he is getting more elongated by the month.

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Missed You

Summary: It’d been a long year with Chris gone, but he promised to become a better man for your family.

Pairings: Chris Evans x Black!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of jail time, smut, swearing, Chris calling the reader his bitch, daddy kink, breeding kink

(A/N: I saw this gif and got inspired. Anyway Chris and reader are mid 20’s in it. Feedback is like drugs for me so please.)

Tags: @titty-teetee, @harrysthiccthighss, @iam-laiya , @night-of-the-living-shred, @liquorlaughslove

Chris was bulkier than you remembered. The scrawny boy you’d crushed on in high school had been replaced by the man walking towards you. Through the many phone calls, letters he’d written to you, and the occasional visits it didn’t take long for you to realize there wasn’t much for him to do except read, eat, sleep, and workout. It paid off because damn he looked good.

You’d been waiting for this moment since he’d waved goodbye. Seeing him walk away from you was so hard. This hadn’t even been the first time he’d got in trouble with the law, it’s just that this time felt so different now that you had a one-year-old who was now about to turn three to take care of and had to hold everything down. Somehow you managed, not without help, but you made it through.

Now he was finally there. Trying to coerce you into letting him hit it even though he knew you had somewhere to be. His ma wanted to have a nice family dinner. Little Chris was already there, probably being fussed over by his grandma. All you were supposed to do was stop at home so he could shower and change and be on your way. He just couldn’t resist you in that dress.

He loved seeing you in sundresses and you knew that which is why you wore it. All he could think about once he saw you was seeing it bunched up around your waist since the moment he saw you. “Baby, we can’t,” you tried to reason with him, giggling as he kissed your neck. 

“C’mon. It’s been a year. I missed my girl,” he whispered into your ear before easily picking you up, to place you on the kitchen table. He’d just gotten out of the shower and had peeked into the kitchen to see you packing up some stuff you wanted to take to his mom’s. He hadn’t even gotten dressed because he knew what he was trying to do. Only his chain and the tattoos that were scattered along his body.

You looked up at him with a pout as he held you tightly against him. “Baby,” you groaned, trying to be serious. It was true, though. It had been a very long year. Your vibrator could only get you through so much. You didn’t want your first time together since he’d been home to be like this. Not a rush. You wanted to take your time.

The way he was kissing your neck let you know you were about to lose this battle. You shivered because fuck his lips did feel good. You touched his stomach, running your finger up and down the six pack that hadn’t been there last time.

What a fucking jerk. He knew what seeing him in the chain did to you for some reason. Especially with that fresh haircut. Fuck your man looked so yummy. 

He gripped your ass roughly, letting you know who the fuck was in charge right now. “Oh, no, Baby. Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten. You know better.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you sighed before tucking your bottom lip in between your teeth trying to look up at him all innocent.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned softly. He grabbed your hand placing it on his already hardening dick. He was so long and thick your hand could barely wrap around it. It was so damn fat. “I know you missed me, Baby.”

“I did.” You looked up at him as you now stroked his heavy cock. He put his thumb on your lips before greedily kissing you. 

It didn’t take long for him to pick you up again his muscles flexing against you as he made you wrap your legs around his waist. The whole time he’d carried you to the bedroom his dick was rubbing into your covered pussy.

He finally sat down on the bed with you in his lap. He laid back taking you with him your lips still on his. You pulled away so you could start taking your dress off, but he grabbed your hand to stop you. “Leave it on,” he said before smacking your ass.

You nodded, your eyes falling to his chest to that chain as you finally made out the script of the tattoo you’d never seen before. “Is - is that my name?” You asked tracing your finger over it.

He nodded leaning back with a smirk on his lips. “Mhm,” he said.

“Your mom is gonna kill you.” You grinned.

He shrugged. “You’re it for me, Baby. I want to become a better man for you.”

“Oh, Chris.” You teared up. He leaned up so he could reconnect your lips. You leaned down to him and he pushed your panties to the side so you could finally sink down onto his cock.

You hissed as your pussy was finally full of him after too long. You sat up straight so you could ride him properly. He grabbed onto your hips so he could fuck you with force. “So damn tight,” he groaned. “Fucking missed this pussy.” He looked so beautiful. His chain resting on his chest.“You missed me, huh, Baby? Missed my dick.”

His grip on your hips was tight as he made you bounce up and down his thick length. “Yes, Daddy.”

“No one else got to touch this pussy, right?” He groaned knowing the answer because you were his good girl. “It’s all mine?”

Your pussy felt so creamy on his cock. “Never. This is your pussy, Daddy.” You changed pace grinding your hips back and forth. He helped you move because even though you were on top, he was still in control.

“That’s right, Bitch. This is Daddy’s cunt.” You know you shouldn’t like your boyfriend calling you his bitch, but there was something about him degrading you that was so addicting.

Your dress had bunched up around your waist as you let him fuck into you. He almost felt like he was to much to take, but you were determined. You’d been daydreaming about this moment this whole year. Needing to feel him however he wanted to give it to you.

He looked between the two of you, to see your cream running down his length and making a mess on his pelvis. He was glad that you didn’t hate him. When it all first happened it’d been hard. The two of you getting close to splitting up, but somehow you managed to stick it out.

He’d felt like a piece of shit for putting you in that position. Not like it had been the first time, but after you got pregnant with Little Chris he’d done such a good job at staying out of trouble until he got cocky. Fucked around too much. It was okay. He was out now. You were back in his arms and on his dick. That was all that mattered.

Now he had your name tattooed to his chest because you’d be his girl forever. He wanted to grow old with you. Wanted to put more of his babies in you. He’d get his shit together and give you that ring he’d had hidden in his Ma’s house since last year. Then give you that big wedding he knew you wanted. That you deserved.

Just the way you were moaning while riding him was letting him know you deserved the world. He needed to treat you right. First, though, he needed to dick you down properly.

He got up still inside of you making you squeal. “Chris!” You squealed.

He chuckled before getting back onto the bed. He needed to feel your perfect cunt creaming for him over and over again while you withered underneath him. “Daddy!” You cried as he slammed into you again.

“That’s it, Bitch. Take this dick. Bet you didn’t even think about any other man, huh.”

You gasped as he rammed into you. You did love how he made you take him. How he stuffed you with his thick cock without any mercy. “Never! This is yours. I’m yours. This pussy is yours!”

“I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. Did you stop taking your birth control like I told you?” His voice broke and you could tell he was so close.

His chain was dangling in your face. You don’t know what came once you as you put your mouth on it. You nodded looking into his bright blue eyes. You clawed at his muscular shoulders, needing something to hold onto as your orgasm finally crashed onto you.

It didn’t even stop. The way he was fucking you through it made you swear that you could feel him in your stomach. All you could do was take it like he’d told you to. It was all you wanted.

“Daddy’s gonna put another baby in this pussy.” His hips stuttered, losing the rhythm he’d built up since now that you’d cum all he wanted was to flood your pussy with his seed. “You wanna give daddy another baby? Want me to fuck my baby into you?””

You nodded all blissed out, but still taking it because you wanted to be a good little wifey. “Get me pregnant,” you cried, falling back against the pillow with the taste of metal on your tongue.

It was like music to his ears and the final push he needed to finally reach his breaking point. He went in so deep as he finally unloaded into you. Painting your walls with his thick cum.

His Ma was gonna kill him and rightfully blame him for the two of you being late, but he couldn’t resist finally being with you after this long. He promised he’d get his shit together this time. Now that he’d hopefully have two babies to take care of. He didn’t want you to have to worry about anything ever again. He’d make sure you’d never have to lift a finger.

[nbrook29]

Kiss or Slap

Sander doesn’t remember when exactly their group made the riverside near the Scheldt their new hangout spot, but he couldn’t be more grateful for it as a cold breeze washes over his overheated body, providing a momentary relief against the scorching heat falling from the sky. It’s probably why the park is fuller than it usually is on Thursday afternoons, packed with people spread on their picnic blankets, searching for a bit of shadow under the big trees and desperately craving a bit of wind. 

It’s so hot he doesn’t even feel like sketching, preferring to just lie on the grass without moving a single muscle, and dying in peace. Even the enticing smell of cinnamon rolls that Noor brought with her isn’t enough for him to reach out and take one from the basket, the action requiring too much movement on his part.

“Guys, come on, we have to start or we’ll never get it done! Sander, get your lazy ass up.” He grunts when he feels Leon’s merciless fingers jabbing him in the ribs.

“Can’t we wait until it gets a little less hot?”

“No, cause that’s not happening in the nearest future and we need new content,” Nathan butts in, followed by Noor, which makes Sander officially outvoted. So he heaves a deep sigh, puts his shirt back on and ruffles his hair to make himself more presentable, rolling his eyes at Noor’s appreciative whistling.

“Someone’s gonna snatch himself a bunch of kisses today with that smoldering look,” she teases, pretending to give him a once over.

“Is that your way of telling me you want one for yourself, sweetheart?” He’s immensely proud of himself when her entire face scrunches up in disgust.

“Eww, no, feels like incest at this point.” Which is kinda true given the fact they’ve known each other since kindergarten and became best friends making sand castles. He fires an obnoxious wink at her, fully anticipating a shove which comes as expected within seconds, with Noor calling him a creep in between laughter.

“Who should we start with? Senne? Wanna go first?” Sander watches as Leon takes out his camera equipment and checks the settings as the rest collects their things.

“I guess, yeah. And then Nathan after me?”

“I’m not doing it, man, you know Britt, she’s gonna flip out.”

“Be a good reason to break up with her,” Sander mutters under his breath, not really feeling apologetic when Nathan shoots him a glare. It would be a long time coming, and honestly, Sander can’t wait for that moment to come. Just being in her presence gives him chills, she’s that much of a horrible person. A few years ago, he read something about alternate universes and sometimes when he looks at her he can’t help but think there’s a history there with the two of them, in a past life or something. At least it would explain that weird energy between them.

If it’s true, he feels very sorry for that Sander. 

He roots for him to run far away from said devil’s spawn.

“I can go next, I don’t have the ball and chain,” Noor says innocently, but she’s smirking over Nathan’s shoulder at Sander who pretends to high five her in their shared hatred for Britt.

“Yeah, us lonely birds will sacrifice ourselves and take the hit for the wellbeing of our channel,” Sander laments playfully, making Senne snort.

“Dude, you’re on your own by your own choice.”

“And pickiness. Don’t forget pickiness,” Noor adds smugly.

Sander huffs in protest. “I’m not picky! I just...” He cuts off because he’s not about to just explain it all now.

“Just what?”

“Specific about what I want.”

Brown curls, brown eyes, shortish, lean, pierced ear, cute giggle, elegant hands and a smile brighter than the sun. 

To be exact.

“Yeah. That’s picky.”

“Whatever,” he replies grumpily, and decides to ignore Noor’s knowing look. Sometimes he feels like she has a sixth sense and can read him like a book. Or she’s just less oblivious than the boys in their friend group. That’s a totally possible option too.

Thankfully, she doesn’t push him further (she’s awesome like that), though Sander has a feeling she’s gonna grill him later when they’re alone. For now, she checks her lipstick in her phone as they all briefly plan the video.

Not like there’s that much to plan; a few days ago, they decided to shoot a kiss or slap challenge for their YouTube channel because it had been wildly requested by their viewers.

Sander still doesn’t quite know how he became a part of a YouTube channel in the first place, always considering himself to be a bit more, well, sophisticated than that? But Leon was into it from the beginning and made them all participate in exchange for free beer, until one day one of their videos blew up.

If you can call getting 100k views on one video blowing up. 

Anyway, they got semi-popular amongst Flemish teens and even managed to snatch a sponsorship with Mentos (however small the offer was) that paid actual money. And he had just managed to move out of his family house so any money coming his way he welcomed with no questions asked. 

So they’ve kept shooting silly challenges slash anything else that’s a trend at a given time and have been able to cover their art supply needs with what little they earned. And, though Sander refused to admit it in the beginning, it’s actually kinda fun. It’s definitely better than his part time job at Pull&Bear where he has to deal with obnoxious customers on an almost daily basis.

They record a short introduction near the river, quickly going over the rules and explaining that the three of them will be competing in who gets more kisses versus slaps. 

“Hey, you know what, this is actually unfair cause you both can kiss anybody,” Senne points out all of a sudden, receiving four pairs of unimpressed glances.

“No one’s stopping you from getting kisses from boys too, dude,” Sander is quick to shut him up, shit-eating grin on his face as he gives him his first (light) slap to the cheek. 

They follow Senne around the park with a camera as he turns on his charm and smiles sweetly at the girls he chooses for the challenge, doing surprisingly well on the first few attempts. But when they venture deeper into the park and he tries his luck with college girls, he gets 5 slaps in the row to the rest of the group’s utter delight. In the end, his results are a blow to his pride and even Sander feels sorry for him, giving him a pat on the back while trying to hold his laughter in at Senne’s grumpy face.

Noor does much better, naturally, as her upbeat personality and a wide smile have always made boys and girls turn their heads. She gets a kiss after kiss, blush after blush, and two phone numbers in the process. Senne argues again that it’s unfair because no one’s gonna slap a girl anyway, but Leon just calls him a sore loser while Noor shamelessly flirts in French with another girl right in front of the camera.

Sander’s very proud.

Taking a quick sip of water, he gives Leon a thumbs up and starts his round, coming over to three blond girls chilling near the skateboarding ramps, trying very hard not to come off as creepy and clarifying the kiss part being only a cheek kiss. The girls erupt in giggles, but they all grant him a light kiss. One of them tries to flirt with him after, but he shoots her down before she can get too into it.

“Such a heartbreaker, you,” Noor coos at Sander’s pained face when they all walk away.

“That’s you, and you actually enjoy it,” he quips back, sticking his tongue at her.

“I do not, shut up!”

Fifteen minutes and fourteen kisses later he’s officially in the lead, sealing his victory with a kiss number fifteen he receives from a cute redhead. He’s gloating in Senne’s bemused face about nobody choosing to slap him when he stops in his tracks.

It’s the proof of his hopeless infatuation that he’d recognize that laugh everywhere.

He looks around for its source, but he comes up short. Then, his eyes focus on the skatepark area and his heart starts beating faster.

Because it feels like a sign. Like the universe is giving him a chance to finally do something. Make a move.

“Hey, can we shoot one more try?” He asks the guys, trying to sound casual while glancing furtively in the direction of brown curls.

“You’ve already won, but I guess?”

Nobody questions him about his reasons, they just follow him to the ramp.

And he’s so fucking nervous. 

It’s incredible, really, how he generally has no problems talking to people he’s interested in, conversation flowing without him even trying, gaining easy smiles and appreciative looks wherever he goes, some natural confidence to him. 

But that boy. That boy is something else.

He makes him question everything he says, makes his palms sweat and makes his deep hidden shyness come onto the surface.

Sander saw him for the first time during Open Day at the Academie in may, strolling casually through the hallway with his friend, completely oblivious to the turmoil he was causing to Sander’s heart.

That was the day Sander saw an angel. 

Fate placed him on his path again sooner than he could’ve hoped, the boy participating in a 2 week film course at his school only several days after he saw him for the first time. And he tried so hard to convince himself to talk to him over that time, but he only managed a few smiles while passing him by in the hallway. 

That and that one stupid joke he said to him while they were waiting in line at the cafeteria that makes him cringe in despair just thinking about it. Seriously, it’s like his entire cool evaporates when he’s near him.

But, the boy laughed at it. So maybe it wasn’t as horrible as Sander is making it to be. Or he was just being nice. 

Robbe. 

Robbe, who he’s been crushing on ever since that fateful day in may.

Robbe, who was at the same party he was last weekend.

Robbe, who he talked to at that party and managed to calm his nerves enough to be charming and funny.

Robbe, who giggled, blushed and bit his lip at Sander’s dumb jokes that evening.

Robbe, who slipped through his fingers because Sander blacked out soon after.

He almost never drinks, but that one night he did, celebrating the beginning of summer break, and not realizing his usual abstinence meant he was now officially a lightweight. What an awful timing.

Robbe doesn’t notice him right away, having his back turned to him while talking animatedly to his friends. Taking a deep breath and plastering a smile to his face to hide his nervousness, he approaches them.

“Hey guys, got a second?”

He notices the recognition in Robbe’s face right away, and Sander shoots him a quiet “hi” when his eyes meet his, an unsure smile blooming on his face.

“Hey, what’s up?” One of the boys nods at the camera.

“I’m Sander, and we’re shooting a video for our YouTube channel, the kiss or slap challenge,” he quickly explains, the boys’ faces lighting up.

“Hey, we have a channel too! I’m Moyo, this is Jens, Aaron, and Robbe.” Moyo reaches out to bump his fist with him and damn, Sander has to find that channel if Robbe is a part of it.

Jens levels him with a look. “So, you want us to kiss you or slap you?” 

“Pretty much, yeah?” Sander chuckles because he’s aware it’s ridiculous, but he’s a man on a mission here, give him a break.

“I think Robbe should represent all of us, don’t you think so?” Moyo proposes, tongue in his cheek as he checks with the rest of his friends. Sander catches the death glare Robbe sends the boy before looking back at him and crossing his arms, looking a bit out of place. And, fuck, the last thing Sander wants is to make him uncomfortable.

So he asks softly, “you’re in?” and waits for agonizing five seconds as Robbe watches him, eyes narrowed, before his features smooth out and he smiles at him.

“Sure, why not.”

Relieved, Sander lets out a chuckle and tries to keep his cool. “Okay then - kiss or slap?”

Robbe squints against the sun and makes him wait another few seconds before he answers, but Sander’s not worried because there’s a soft smile on his face and obviously his angel wouldn’t-

“Slap.”

Wait, what.

He can hear his friends bursting in laughter at this unexpected turn of events while Sander can only stare in shock because how could he miscalculate the situation this much?

Gulping, confused and heartbroken, he asks, “you’re sure?”, to which Robbe nods with a poorly hidden glee.

“But you have to close your eyes cause I can’t hit you while you're looking at me.”

Heaving a deep sigh and trying to save a face despite the humiliation flooding his body, he nods and closes his eyes, steeling himself for it.

But it never comes.

Suddenly, he feels a hand cupping his cheek and he flinches a little, but then soft lips touch his in a kiss so gentle he blinks his eyes open, not knowing what’s happening.

“That was payback for you promising to call me and not keeping your word,” Robbe whispers against his lips before leaning away, something sad and wistful passing through his face. Sander is left completely dumbfounded, ignoring the hollering from the two groups as his eyes fleet all over Robbe’s face.

It’s difficult for him to collect his thoughts because holy fuck, Robbe has just kissed him and he’s internally freaking out. He finally manages to get his bearings when the remnants of a smile slip off Robbe’s lips.

“I-, Robbe, you have no idea how much I wanted to call you, but I don’t have your number.”

“I gave it to you. At the party?” He doesn’t look like he believes a word Sander is saying.

“Um, I kinda blacked out and don’t remember much after like one-ish?”

“You saved it though, I saw you typing it in,” Robbe argues again, but this time he doesn’t look so sure. “Wait, what’s your number?”

Sander watches him entering digit after digit before hitting call. He fully expects a plain number to appear on his screen, eyes widening when he sees what pops up instead.

zk bambieys 🥺🦌👁️💘🧡💖💞 calling

“Fuck, you did give me your number.” He’s not fast enough to hide his screen from Robbe, but he can't even feel embarrassment once he notices the frown disappeared from his face.

“Bambi eyes?” There's a teasing note in his voice, but his pink cheeks sell him out.

Sander scratches his head. "I was very drunk, you can't hold it against me. Also, your eyes are really beautiful," he clarifies, winking when Robbe laughs at his shameless flirting. "Hey, I tried to find you on instagram, but nothing came up. I was really hoping we're gonna bump into each other again. Sorry for being a dumbass and not realizing I had your number this entire time?”

“It’s okay.” Robbe shoves his hand into the pockets of his jeans, swaying on his heels. Sander decides to put them both out of their misery and take the initiative.

“So if I asked you out, would you say yes?”

It looks like Robbe’s about to nod, but then he bites his lip, an almost cheeky smile directed at him. “I guess you have to call me to find out.” And then he gets on his skateboard and casually skates away to the nearest ramp, pulling a surprised laugh out of Sander.

If he was intrigued before, now he’s totally smitten with this wonder of a boy, because damn. 

Their friends finally seem to regain their voices and speak over each other at what just happened, but Sander doesn’t pay them any attention, just takes out his phone again and pressing the call button. 

Watching as Robbe comes to a full stop at the top of the ramp, he cocks his head with a grin and waits until he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Sander.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Robbe laughs into the speaker.

“Will you go out with me?”

He meets his eyes across the skatepark as Robbe makes him wait again.

Then, with a smile so radiant it overshadows the sun, the boy finally gives him his answer.

“Yes.”

[the-silentium]

A story of having each others back

Masterlist - A story of shirts

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader, Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 2754 words

Warnings: None.

A/N: There is some teeny tiny spoiler without context of the next Murphy day saga: Good Night, Good Luck. You guys can speculate on the meanings! 

Taglist: @haloangel391

The fog was so thick he couldn't see where the ramp of the ship finished and where the grass started, even from his vantage point from the top of said ramp. He lingered in the entrance of the ship, shoulder leaning on the frame, a leg crossed over the other. The humidity was refreshing on his face, calming his overworking mind, washing away the worries of the war, the dread of the loss, and the uncertainty of tomorrow.

It was calm for once, there was no one around to push him playfully hard into a wall or assault his ears with some unneeded tsunami of information or make him feel like a kid under the careful eye of an adult. He was finally able to release the tension building in his muscles and relax, enjoy some me-time while it lasted. 

Or so he thought. 

"Cross, I'm cold." Your melodious whine alerted him of your presence, mere seconds before delicate fingers slipped under the hem of his blacks to toy with the fabric, your knuckles creating a trail of fire where it grazed the skin. 

The fire of your touch burned his insecurities, hushed the whispers of his demons, and most of all, melted the thick walls shielding his heart. He made them indestructible. You made them malleable. 

He chuckled at your antics, the time when he was surprised that a strong warrior like you could become such a cuddly and adorable woman whenever the ambient temperature was not hotter than your body was long gone. He'd noticed pretty quickly that you had a really low tolerance to lower temperature. 

He'd done nothing at first, merely watched you shiver from time to time, enduring your predicament without saying a word. He saw you pass your hands over yours arms more than once, but all he could do was weigh the pros and cons of helping you out of your misery. 

Because if he did, he'd let it know that he cared. And Crosshair didn't care. Not for anyone other than his brothers. They were family. They were loyal. They were everything. 

But you were special. Caring. True. Sassy. Loyal. You were the newest member of this freak family and you deserved to be helped if only to pay you back from everything you did for them. For him. 

So he'd decided that he would cover you in all the warmth he could offer. 

More fingers slipped under the hem, tentatively lifting the fabric over his abdomen, intensifying the fire with the full-on skin contact. He could almost feel your body inches away from his back, close but not enough in his books. 

"Think you can have this?" He chuckled as he got back on his two feet to turn around and meet your sheepish gaze. He had to suppress a shiver at the softness of your fingers moving over his middle and lower back as he turned over. 

"Please Crosshair." You begged with a dangerous fake pout, bottom lip poking out slightly. 

He wouldn't admit it, but he liked it when you begged. Not that you did that often. In fact, he only heard you beg once in the year you passed at their side. Needless to say that the situation was far from the one at hand, but it wrapped up his heart with the very same warmth. 

"Your wish is my command." His finger reached for the wood stick from between his lips, threw it away into the depth of the fog to swiftly remove his top, exposing his skin to the chilly air. At the sudden change, goosebumps appeared on his arms, but he didn't care. He didn't feel them. 

All he could do was admire the joy in your eyes and the excitement as you pulled the oversized shirt on, the extra length hiding not only your black shirt but the hem of your exquisitely short shorts too. 

"Thanks." You smiled brightly, eyes solely focussed on him. 

Even upside down, dangling meters in the air and prey to a carnivorous plant, Crosshair knew that you were a beautiful woman and that your beauty wouldn't lessen even covered in mud from head to toe. That smile was too damn captivating. It was too damn bright.

In the same chain of thought, nothing could be added to you and make you more beautiful. You were already perfection. But seeing you in his shirt turned everything upside down. 

He'd been wrong for so long and on so many things. 

All of his dark thoughts and low expectations caused him to repress his feelings, leaving you to think that he saw you as distracting and insignificant. 

Leaving you to give him space because you thought he wanted it when all he really wanted was for you to be part of his bubble. Leaving the path open for his brother to get involved with you without saying anything. It was slow, a pace that suited the both of you, but was way too fast for him to come to terms with his own feelings. 

"But Hunter's not here." Your cool hands found his naked waist, thumbs discovering the scars there with an utterly careful touch. He dropped the fact that you seemed to read his mind, focussing on the only thing he could think of. 

"You look like a goddess in that." He groaned, head lowering to the perfect column of your throat.

He inhaled your enrapturing smell, his eyes closing to lose himself in the moment. 

"And you're so handsome without it." You whispered as shakily as your fingers on his sides. 

He decided to allow himself this one time of carelessness. Before everything came crashing down. 

Your hands gripped his sides tighter as he nibbled at the skin, triggering a memory of your arms tightly enveloping him in their secure embrace. Of a time when he could feel the warmth of your own soul through the cage, calling out to his, but this time there was no fear. Only care. 

"I've got you Cross." Your voice echoed through his mind, distant, words from a distant memory. "I've got you." 

"I've got you." He whispered against your sensitive skin, repeating the words that rang through his mind every time his gaze found yours. 

His lips moved up your jaw to meet yours and as always, the contact was tasteless, devoid of any spark that he couldn't possibly create in the abyss of his mind. But he would take it if it meant that he could maintain the dream going. If for once he wasn't second. If he wasn't the one who took too long into accepting his feelings. 

But he was. And the truth slapped him hard in the face when you bit his bottom lip, jolting his mind out of his dream and into the harsh world where the first rays of the sun illuminated your empty makeshift bed. 

Immediately, Crosshair shot up, eyes scanning around until he noticed your body pressed to Hunter's, one of your hands gripping tightly around his shirt as if we would disappear. 

Betrayal flooded his veins and he hated the feeling as much as he hated himself at this moment. He didn't have any reason to hold this against you. You never led him on, only complying to his silence when he'd ignore you and not force your company on him. 

He wasn't even sure you were aware of his feelings until the night prior when the realization hit you like a speeder after his jealousy finally pierced his walls and controlled his judgment, forcing you in a bad position between him and his brother. He felt bad for tricking you of the sort, but he could never regret it. Finally, he saw you wearing something of his. It was one of his biggest achievement if he was honest. And most satisfying one for sure.

He got up, unable to watch any longer. As he passed, a whisper escaped your lips, your eyes were still closed, hand clutching tighter around the fabric prisoner of your grip. 

"I've got you Cross." Your face scrunched up in discomfort pulling at his heartstrings. 

He walked away despite his body aching to wake you up, to comfort you that he was still there and assure you that they were not. 

________________

He was childish, he knew it, but his heart squeezed every time his eyes met yours. He avoided you as much as possible, not that it was difficult since you were stuck in your pilot seat, deeply concentrated on landing in a warzone deep into enemy territory and he was with the others, verifying their equipment one last time before the action began. 

"Don't act like a kicked puppy. You made this." Crosshair rolled his eyes beneath his helmet, not moving an inch at Hunter's remark in the private line. "She likes you too, idiot. For a sniper you're unbelievably blind." 

"Get your head in the game." He grumbled under his breath as you started your countdown until your quick landing. 

He didn't want to acknowledge his sergeant's comment, but he deeply hoped that he was right. After all, the grey-haired clone had been wrong about you before. One last time wouldn't hurt. 

_______________

While offering cover fire to his brothers, Crosshair decided that he'd stop being an ass and talk to you. His life didn't allow him the luxury to be dithering. He had to clear up everything and to do so, he needed to corner you alone. He thought it would have been easy, you tried to talk to him all day so all he had to do was wait for you to come to him. But it didn't happen. 

After sending the ship into hyperspace, you fussed over the injuries on Wrecker's arms all the while berating him for being so reckless, forced Tech to drop his work on the new prototype that needed adjustments to force him to get some rest, and finally, you cleaned up after the mess they created at the back of the ship.

He watched you move around, picking up abandoned backpacks, open medkits, and bloody gauzes, his determination deflating with each passing second. 

Before he knew it, you returned hastily to the cockpit to jump out of hyperspace and make your way to the republican planet. 

You'd learned so quickly how to maneuver the ship, he sometimes forgot that you joined their team only a year ago. Although he did remember clearly the time when you weren't around; when the same routine would play over and over again without failing like a very boring record. You'd broken that record without a problem, adding your touch here and there, keeping them organized, making sure that they got their well-needed rest, reducing the tension with your harmless pranks and stupid jokes. He always loved his silence, but he'd never return to a time where you weren't there.

"You should go sleep." You mumbled, stretching until your bones popped. It was only then that he noticed how tired you seemed.

His hand shot out to your wrist when you made your way to the fresher.

"You're having nightmares again."

"No." You frowned on the defensive, pulling your hand out of his wrist, hurting his feelings by doing so. 

As his teeth gnashed together, he was glad he didn't have a toothpick between them as usual. It would definitely have broken under the pressure. 

"Bad liar." He turned around, knowing that if you weren't able to trust him with your nightmares, then there was no way what Hunter told him was true. 

He himself wasn't the one so blinded with love that he started seeing it everywhere. He wasn't the one with whom you'd share your secrets or the one who knew the taste of your lips or the one to get to see you parade in his shirts before bed or the one to get to sleep next-

Too engrossed in his spiraling thoughts, Crosshair didn't think when his shirt got pulled. His hand moved on its own, too used to deal with Wrecker's annoying habit of trying to lift him by the back of his blacks. With a sharp slap, Crosshair successfully removed the hand gripping his shirt. 

Before he even heard your yelp of pain, his brain made the connection. He turned around, eyes wide in surprise at his own attack, remorse flooding his chest. 

He saw the pain in your eyes as well as the tears gathering in them. With your hands to your chest, you backed away in the fresher and locked the door before he even found his voice to apologize. 

A lump formed in his throat, still not entirely comprehending what had happened, how he could have possibly let his jealousy blind him. 

Again. 

With tight fists at his sides, Crosshair made his way to the only place he could go. To bed. He made a quick job of climbing to the bunk over his sergeant's, making sure to repress his urges to accidently kick him in the sides and laid there over the covers, eying the ceiling, fists opening and closing around nothing. 

He wanted to yell, kick, punch, shoot, get it out of his system, but all he could do was staying still, muscles stiff enough to hurt. 

It took a while, but you walked out of the fresher, your light footsteps making their way to the barracks. He almost assumed you'd push Hunter over and cuddle close to him for security and comfort. He didn't anticipate at all the pull on his sheets. 

Just to be sure that he wasn't hallucinating, he waited until you did it again before leaning over the edge. He couldn't see your eyes in the almost complete darkness, but he knew you could see him clearly. 

"I hear them in my dreams." You paused, head moving towards the door. "And sometimes I can still see the Algax around the corners." He couldn't see you shiver, but the wave in your voice was clear enough. You were scared. 

"Jump up." He didn't lose a second to move aside to make you some room. 

He pulled the covers aside before you fully laid down on the mattress, enveloping your body in its safe embrace as soon as you stayed still on your side. 

He hated the fact that he couldn't see your face and read your emotions. Or that he couldn't erase their memory of your mind. The silence grew longer and longer until finally, he had enough. 

"I'm sorry for hurting you. It wasn't- I never-" He grunted in exasperation when words failed him. 

"I'll forgive you if you hold me." He didn't lose a second at your weak voice, slipping under the cover to pull you close into his chest. 

"I've got you." He kissed the top of your head as your body started shivering, from fear or cold, he wasn't sure. Probably both. 

He gripped your waist and carefully flipped you around to switch places, putting your back to the wall instead of the black void, hoping that it would give you some reassurance. Instead, you merely hid in his chest. 

His fingers combed through your hair, waiting patiently for you to either fall asleep or say something. 

"Thank you." He almost missed it, the words muffled by his clothed chest. 

"No need to." 

"I do. You didn't have to." Your face separated from his torso, to peer at his eyes. 

He felt your hand moving from around his waist to make its way up, towards your face. His breath caught in his throat at the contact of your fingers barely touching his cheek, the very first loving contact you blessed him with. 

"I wanted to." He whispered back, hopeful that you'd get his intention so he didn't have to voice them. 

"I'm glad." Your chilly palm rested fully on his cheek, relaxing his muscles despite accelerating his heartbeat. "On our next leave maybe we can go hang out together? Just the two of us?" You silently offered. 

"I'd like that." 

Biggest understatement of the millennia. He was delighted that you'd caught on his unsaid feelings and offered him some time alone with you. 

As soon as your hand left his cheek he felt cold, already missing your touch. 

"Goodnight Cross." Your hot breath passed through his blacks to tickle the skin beneath. You moved your arms back to your chest, forehead on his sternum. 

He waited for a second, savoring the feeling of your real body cuddled against him. It felt even better than he imagined.  

"Night." 

He made sure to fall asleep after you, waiting until your breathing evened out before even thinking of drifting off. One last time he stroked your cheek, his movement as delicate as he could to not wake you up. 

He let himself relax, a hit of a smile stretching his lips at the thought of going on a date with you sooner rather than later.

Maybe being second wasn't all that bad.

[mikaze-discord]

Class S: Love letters

This is the Class S+ Cecil love letters!! 

Please enjoy under the cut

TOKIYA ICHINOSE 

From Riri:

Maybe it was his midnight-blue hair, or perhaps it was his ocean eyes, but the very moment I laid my eyes upon him my mind immediately thought, “Wow, he’s very good looking… charming... I really like his vibe.” That was the first reason why he piqued my interest, rather, the initial reason why I fancied him. My eyes were drawn to him and the fact that Kay bombarded me with a truckload of his pictures didn’t help at all, I just fell deeper into the hole. But as if that wasn’t enough, she started spamming me with utapri songs and I fell in love immediately. They are all such good singers but there’s one of them who sticks out to me the most, as expected, it’s Tokiya. His voice has this intricate and refined softness that seemed to caress my ears and touch my soul. He has such a sweet (and might I add a handsome) voice, kudos to Miyano Mamoru for that.

So I started watching the anime and through that, I got to know him better. At first, he seems cold with an air of loneliness and uneasiness dawning on him. But as the series progresses, I discovered that he’s a good-natured, warm, and dedicated person who loves singing and music with all his heart and all. He’s hardworking, dedicating everything to his craft. He has pride in it, so when he was told that his singing has no ‘heart’ it affected him a lot. That caused a lot of distress in his system, and the fact that his company is pushing him to pursue other things than being a singer added to that. His passion for his craft is burning, a fire that no one could put out. That’s one of the things that I love about him. He’s dedicated to everything he does. He’s a perfectionist but he’s also a caring person who cares a lot about the starish members. He’s genuinely a good person but that doesn’t mean he’s perfect. He strives for improvement and development all the time. He helps the members whenever they need. Most importantly, his attitude towards his passion is respectable and admirable.

I might’ve said a lot of things but I guess that only means I love a lot of things about him. He’s such a beautiful soul that inspires me to be more dedicated to my passion, to make my dreams come true no matter what it takes. His path towards his dream was rough, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows but that’s life, isn’t it? Despite that, he kept walking towards his dream. He’s admirable, respectable, and irresistibly loveable. That being said, I love all the things that made his character; that made Tokiya Ichinose be the kind of character that he is right now.

PS. Miyano Mamoru played a big part too. His insane talent gave life to Tokiya’s character.

From @poorlydrawnutapri:

When I first watched the Utapri anime like 6 years ago, having a best boy didn't cross my mind. At first, I was just most interested in Tokiya out of all the boys because I just thought he looked cool. I liked how mysterious he seemed and also, his hair, probably just because it was blue tbh. Either way, good design.

However, what really got me attached to him wasn't his looks. I then liked Tokiya's serious personality. I like how he starts off cold and stoic but how throughout the games and anime, he slowly softens up. I didn't just like his personality, I could also relate to his perfectionism and hard-working side, even when he exhausts himself, which is something I admit I also have. I continue to relate to him now after all this time, and that's why he's such a good character to me.

Besides that, his songs are nice to listen to and he has just a very pleasant voice. It's nice just to go listen to his voice after a long day. In a way, liking Tokiya also got me into the whole Utapri franchise: made some friends, made a couple of good memes, all that kinda stuff.

Also, I feel like it's a crime not to mention this so: he thicc. Like, dang, no wonder the guy only eats salads because all the fats he eats goes straight to that ass of his. (I am sorry that you had to read that.)

Overall, I just think he's neat. To me, he's relatable and has a nice character development. Tokiya is and will continue to be my best boy. :)

REN JINGUJI 

From @incorrect-jinguji-ren:

Ren Jinguji, the 5th member of Starish is without any shame my favorite character of the Uta no prince sama series. Though often disregarded Ren is and always will be my most favorite and I firmly believe that he has one of the most, if not the most depth in his character. I love Ren a lot however because of his surface charismatic attitude he is usually labeled as a “playboy” or a “lothario”. This is not correct and it should never define him, as he actually is one of the most gentle and compassionate characters of the series. Ren has a very deep surface characterization and personality that is never usually recognized unless you truly take the time to understand WHY Ren acts the way he does, and WHY he makes the choices that he makes. My favorite part about loving characters is being able to accept them for their demons and embrace what others would see as the “imperfections” in them. That Is the best way to truly love them. I love Ren because of his motives, choices, and most of all his passionate loving heart. Although the pain he hides and the personality of who he really is, is hidden under a mask of charisma, he never loses himself deep within.

He’s misunderstood, but he’s beautiful. He’s so deep, from the everlasting devotion to loving his passed on mother, to always cherishing memories and the past bond he had with his childhood best friend Masato, to going against what his brother wants of him because he wants to fight to have a choice and to be passionate about something that he wants to love, because HE wants to love it. Ren didn’t have the love that a lot of people had at such a young age, he made a path for himself and along the way succumbed to the human faults that we all falter from within the hardest times in our life or even dicult events. He almost gave up, just as I know many of us had almost done before, as I know and can relate to, and still do now.

But he dusted himself o and picked up where he left o, making himself happy from once the feeling of being a hollow shell with no reason why he even existed to realizing that the most important thing in the world to him was cherishing the people who made him see the world in colors and seeking the choices that had been stripped from him at such a young age. He broke free from the chains of his family, his past, and his regrets to spread a beautiful pair of rose wings, his own wings to fly. And I hope he always flies. I will always love him, and wish nothing but the best for him whatever that be.

From @chips-and-vodka:

Ren Jinguji- the sexy, charming and flirty member of the STARISH boys. The youngest of the Jinguji family, a troubled child who grew up without a mother. A person who possesses many charms and is blessed with the gift of beauty. A red rose he was, beautiful yet his thorns are to be avoided. Beneath his passionate and seductive mannerisms there is a boy that craves genuine affection, from the one he truly adores and cherishes.

Ren Jinguji to me initially was one with a beautiful, attractive deep baritone, who is voiced by none other than the legend- Suwabe Junichi himself. The voice is an accurate fit of how this stereotype of a charming bishie should be, youthful and sensitive, and at times warm and seductive. His portrayal brings out the appeal of the character, the emotions and thoughts a troubled young adult such as the ‘useless third son’ lived through. Many would see him as a romantic one, one who showers those around him with attention and passion. Within however lives a rebellious soul who distrusts many, but still somehow desires that ray of sunshine that brightens his lonely soul.

Ren Jinguji is one that deserves real love, someone who appreciates him for who he is.

SYO KURUSU

From Jules:

Why do I like Syo, huh? Well, there are a lot of reasons! Some of them are more personal ones. First of all, Syo has always been my best boy, since UtaPri (the anime) exists. So ten long years now.

His fashion style is the first thing I noticed and it immediately intrigued me. I remember that my first thought, after seeing him in season one, was “Woah, he looks really cool!” even though Syo was just in his school uniform! I think what also made me interested in him was his energetic persona. The way he looked up to Ryuya Hyuga and wanted to follow in his footsteps was really sweet to me as well. Syo’s enthusiasm and positive attitude actually encouraged me to become stronger in a way too, if I’m being honest. I, personally, have always found his songs motivating and they made me feel better. I really came to love Syo in his episode in season one. When he talked about his childhood and how weak he was, I really felt with him. From that moment on I cheered him on and Syo definitely became my favorite character. My interest never wavered over the next seasons either.

I also have personal reasons why I love him so much. I just feel very connected and relate to him a lot, y’know? We have quite a few things in common. Syo and I have the same eye color, we have both played the violin since we were little, and were born weak and with pretty much the same health and heart issues. I like to say that Syo “saved” me, which is true. There is also the fact that the blonde and I are both on the shorter side (and regularly get teased for it), too! Though, I’m even a little shorter than him.

But to be more positive again, there is just so much more to him than meets the eye at first! Syo is more than just the stereotypical short sporty character. He really cares for his friends and wants the best for them. Syo’s friendship with every STARISH member is different but still close. He’s also protective of the ones around him. Syo really cares about his little twin brother too, which can be seen in the games and the few times he talked about him in the anime. Syo’s big heart easily balances out his, sometimes, tsundere behavior and I love him for that. This blonde idol is just a great guy and deserves all the love he’s getting and more.

Seriously, stan Syo Kurusu, guys!

From Vic:

Syo Kurusu is my favourite idol within the utapri games and any other form of media pertaining to the franchise. He is my favourite idol because of several factors, one of which being that his voice actor is Hiro Shimono, who voices Zenitsu from Demon slayer and Lucifer from “Devil is a part timer”. Syo is a very outgoing character and is talented in many aspects athletically. Born with a heart disease, he continues to persevere throughout the myriads of life’s problems in front of him.

He’s extremely outgoing and is proficient in the martial art of Karate and desires to strengthen his body more than what it is currently. He is best friends with Natsuki and can communicate with each other proficiently. Syo is my favourite character within the franchise because of his resolve, perseverance and great chemistry with Natsuki and his teammates. Hiro Shimono did the character justice by making his voice one of young, adventurous and energetic. With that said, Syo is a character I truly enjoy within the franchise and wish to see more of him.

CECIL AIJIMA 

From Anon:

Greetings, princes and princesses, and welcome to a world of princes, questionably talking cats, and magic! I’m of course talking about Cecil Aijima, our foreign prince of UtaPri! So, why do I like Cecil Aijima? It’s borderline ridiculous, but it’s because of Cecil’s birthday. More specifically, Cecil’s Birthday Cruise card. But, I should start at the beginning.

Back when I first watched the anime, I thought Cecil was a little bit of a brat towards literally everyone, and one of my least favorites at the time. After watching through the rest of the anime though, I started to like him a lot more than I did before. To me, he had matured a lot after season 2, and never turned back to that bratty self. And so, when playing SL, he might not have been my favorite, but I didn’t hate him. Then, that one fateful day, I decided to pull in his birthday gacha. To my surprise, I had gotten the card in my first pull! Then the story dragged me into the Cecil Appreciation Group. I thought the story was incredibly cute. Then I got more Cecil cards so I could read more stories. Then the cycle repeated itself again. And now, well, if I’m writing this, I think you know what happened to me afterwards. I’ll be here, doing my best for him.

From Eden: 

The boy with childish like demeanor but continues to have a heart of gold for his friends and wonderful composer.

I remember first watching Utapri in middle school and questioning. "Well shit- this is my life now..." and I didn't really have a favorite character at the time. I was always bouncing between characters like Syo, Otoya, even the teachers. However it was season 2 that made me realize who my true favorite was. Despite his at first cocky nature when he was first introduced, Cecil to me was amazing! His singing was magical, his origins even more fascinating. You wouldn't think Utapri would turn that down the magic route but it somehow did.

As the seasons went on, and as I got more into the series, he just became more of a love to me. His kindness and child-like nature and curiosity, he felt different than the other characters.

I love the other characters, yes but him?

Something about him just felt right! He not only seems to be a protector for those he cares about but also feels like he would be the best person to be around. Always wanting to do anything new and exciting just to peak his curiosity and to learn more. Ever since then, he has always been my favorite. The one and only Annapolis Prince, Aijima Cecil.

[obeymeluv]

Red String of Fate

Something a little different! Drabble lead + headcanons! I really like the idea of being connected to someone, so have this~

Also: very long, so I only did a few of the brothers. I tend to do them in order but I tried to jump around for variety’s sake since I published a partial post the other day.

Features: Lucifer, Mammon, and Asmo (short-ish, but for a reason. Makes sense when you read the lead-up),

I have to get to bed. Need to get up early for studying + a morning class. Really love this idea so I’ll be working on something unique for the rest of the bros :)

Casual conversations about soulmates and bad dates inspires Asmo to find your one true love. He swears up and down there’s a book that can do it. Being a lover of love and feeling like it’s his duty to see you off into the best of hands—the hands made to hold you!—he sets out to find the book. Legend says Cupid pricked his finger while writing out love lists with his enchanted quill and threw the dirty pages away, deeming them unusable. Instead of being discarded, they were salvaged by another and turned into a book that would answer any love-related question the reader had.

All it would cost is a drop of blood.

Cupid, who was very serious about his task of uniting hearts and forging bonds, felt insulted by the book. He felt cheapened and could not see the joy it would bring before his arrow was destined to arrive. In a fit of rage he threw it from the heavens, assuming it would disintegrate before landing in another’s hands.

He was wrong.

The book circulated for centuries, making its way through humble and haughty, poor and princely. Some say it even inspired the most romantic of playwrights. It was kept by a family of matchmakers for generations before their home was pillaged and burned by a spurned heart. Traded out of guilt or in a desperate moment for silver or food (Asmo didn’t remember which), it ended up in the hands of a scholar. He sat with his crush and read the book, the two asking it hundreds of questions and finding themselves quite content with each other.

After the two got married, they were convinced it was a lucky charm of sorts and passed it along to their friends. Once those friends found their true loves, it started a chain of giving. When one family had all of their children married off, they would pass the book on to someone else. The book spent a fair amount of time collecting dust when one person lost their soulmate too soon and didn’t open it for about five years, convinced it would stay blank. A new love came into their life and they were so moved by the magic, by the joy, that they donated the book to a thrift shop.

Asmodeus lost the history after the thrift shop. Too many people went in and out of it, too much time had passed. All he knew is that it ended up in the hands of a witch who made serious money off of love potions and romantic divinations. One of her grandchildren—a quarter succubus and three-quarters human—had donated it to RAD’s library.

He should’ve just texted his friends about the damn thing instead of researching it like Levi does his events. Should he be proud of all the effort? You could be, but he was kind of put off by all the work. It was shabby and beaten, hardly bigger than a typical planner. Definitely unassuming and definitely looked like it’d seen some things. Asmodeus was expecting something gorgeously gilded and velvet.

Hopefully a peek into your future would make up for all the disappointment. “I bet it’s me.” he touched a finger to his soft lips with a giddy smile, little ring glinting in the light. He practically skipped out of the library and back to the House of Lamentation. At the very least, he’d get to go on and on about how he found it and how grateful you should be that he cares for you so much to do so!

Asmodeus whisks you away into his room, the bed already set with pillows that were both aesthetic and luxurious. Nothing too out of the norm for him, but he wanted something that complimented the romantic undertones of this little endeavor. He coddled the two of you in a plush pink blanket before cracking it open and guiding your finger along the edge of the page. The red soaked in, ink blossoming in a faint pink that turned a brilliant scarlet.

The book grew warm, almost burning as the scarlet began to sear and shimmer on the page. You heard him hiss and grabbed the book as he started to squirm and scoot out from under it. You’d barely grabbed the book when pinky-red smoke exploded violently in your face. It didn’t burn or have a taste but it was surprisingly thick.

“What? No names!” Asmodeus had finally swatted away enough of the smoke to see a blank book. “It’s supposed to be names!” he scowled, kittenish fangs threatening to poke at his lower lip.

“Maybe there’s been a revision,” you blinked distractedly, talking more to yourself than him. Nope, still there. You wagged your finger at Asmodeus, showing off the bright red string tied around it.

His oncoming rant receded immediately, eyes shining a gorgeous and unmistakable pink. “Let’s see where it goes!”

To Lucifer:  

He’s in the middle of doing paperwork (shocker) when he finds a vibrant red string tangling in his pen and catching on the lines

Tries to shake it off (very undignified, glad no one saw it)

Puts his pen down to pick at it and untie it. When that doesn’t work, he slips the opposite glove off with his teeth and lets his demon aura come out just enough to turn his fingernails into claws

That didn’t work either

Physically tries to pull the string off and begrudgingly stops when he realizes his finger might come off first

A huffy, annoyed man

Takes an awkward pic with his D.D.D and sends it to Diavolo, wanting to know if it’s a prank

Diavolo swears it’s not and Barbatos suggests it could be the red string theory, that thing some humans believe in.

Could it be true? Does he have a soulmate? Could he, being a fallen angel? Demons had soul mates?

All the questions swirl and he just leans back in his fancy padded chair to absorb it all. There’s something beautifully sad and...comforting...at the thought of demons having a soulmate, someone made just for them

Lucifer doesn’t really think that a soulmate’s at the end of the string, but he tells himself it’s a walk for the sake of his health, to stretch, and sets off to find the string

The eldest is quite surprised to run into you and Asmo, the string clearly tied around your finger.

“A bit overboard, don’t you think, Asmo?” Lucifer’s a little aggravated by it. What is this, a set up?!

His little brother swears against it, holding up a beaten book not even Mammon would waste money on.

Apparently, the string disappears when the soulmates touch their fingers together. Lucifer rolls his eyes and tries to soften his scowl as he presses his finger to yours.

You’re both surprised when the string thickens until it resembles a ribbon, kinking in the shape of a heart before disappearing in a burst of pinky-red smoke that has your fingers tingling

Lucifer says nothing, silently stunned and heart yearning at the tingling in his finger. It’s warm, like your love.

To Mammon:

IS IT ONE OF THE WITCHES?! IS THIS A TRACKER?!

First reaction: “OI! What the hell?!”

Also shakes his finger

Immediate second reaction is to chew on it and try to get it off

Ends up sucking on his tender finger like a baby because he basically chewed on himself instead of the string

Texted all the sorcerers and witches he knew. They all deny hexing him or mentioning him in potion-making.

He’s surprised to find he can still move around with the string. It’s not straining or limiting him, so he goes in his closet of magical seals, peeling a few back to reveal a sizeable hoard of stuff he’d stolen over the centuries (including some stuff he had on him from the Fall).

He tries daggers of all sizes and types. They don’t cut the string, either

When nothing seems to work, he marches towards the source, wrapping it around his fist with a grumble.

He pulls on it at random just because it’s a minor inconvenience and he couldn’t get it off.

Mammon notice that it runs under Asmo’s door and he yanks on it really hard, hoping he’s tearing thread off of a sweater or something. Annoying ass little brother!

When you yelp he freezes. Brain hasn’t quite kicked in yet and he yanks it again to check the reaction. Another yelp, and a thick thud behind the door.

Sounds like you’re involved somehow. Oops.

Turns out you had a hard time coming out of the room because he wound the string too quick (and weren’t strong enough to tug it back to yourself)

Asmo’s in the middle of lecturing him as he squishes your poor little face, scowling and lamenting that MAMMON is your soulmate. MAMMON, of all people, who’d been smacking you against a door for the last few minutes!

Now Mammon’s interested and needs the story

Gets a biiiig shit-eating grin when he realizes what’s happened.

Takes your hand with his usual fanfare of ‘’Course I would be! I’m their MAIN man! Their BEST man!”

The string seems to tie your hands together for a brief moment before exploding in a burst of smoke and Mammon’s still grinning like an idiot.

He doesn’t let go of your hand

To Asmodeus:

He’s waving that smoke away when he feels a new, subtle weight on his finger

Whatever it is, it’s flitting and ticklish. He can feel it catching on some of the fashion rings he wears

Asmodeus doesn’t know whether he wants to purr or squeal. He did something that hurt your human ears though.

Didn’t realize it hurt your ears until after the noise bottoms out to a lower pitch, and immediately cups his hands over yours ears, sliding them up into your hair while he showers the crown of your head in apology kisses.

Makes a video clip to send to the bros in a group chat and has to redo it several times because they can’t really hear his words over the smug purring and clicking

It warms his heart to know he has a real soulmate. Asmodeus really struggles with the concept of genuine, non-sexual love.

He figured the most he could ever get was platonic love or brotherly love, but this is a whole new thing for him and he’s honestly blown away

For a brief moment he feels like Heaven’s Jewel again, so treasured and special. It almost makes him cry

He’s lowkey crying.

100% takes advantage of the fact that your fingers are tied together until you touch fingertips. You guys giggle quietly and cuddle close as he loops the string around his finger so you put your arm around his neck

“You don’t need a string to make me touch you, you know.” you tease him, wrinkling your nose in that cute human way you have

“I know,” Asmo gives you an Eskimo kiss that turns into a few butterfly kisses on your mouth, leaning over you and into you.

Totally uses the string as an excuse to cuddle you and turn down any activities the bros want you to go to. (”Can’t, they’re kind of tied up.”)

Let this baby bask in his sure thing, okay? He really needs it, and you know he’s good for it

Gives you hand kisses and cuddles into you

Gets the bright idea to try to bottle the smoke that’ll erupt when you touch fingertips. Sacrifices his most beautiful perfume bottle to immortalize this moment

Catches the littlest bit, so thin that he has to hold it up to the light to see it.

Complains about probably swallowing most of it during that attempt

Is now even more shameless about demanding his cuddles and attention because you guys are destined lovers.

[basicjetsetter]

Part II

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death, Depression, Triggering Content, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt

▹ Words: 3k

▹ A/N: ATTENTION! This is an emotionally heavy part. Please DO NOT READ if you know you will be affected. For those struggling with depression, I see you, I care for you, and I love you. You’re not alone and you are undeniably worthy of love.

-Five Years and Twenty Nine Days Later-

You don’t want to get up.

Your phone’s alarm clock is rounding on its tenth circuit, if your counting is correct… and there’s a good chance you blanked out for fifteen minutes while watching a strip of sunlight lethargically inch down your blanket to the foot of the bed, so your number may be off by six or seven.

It’s not that you’re tired or anything, or maybe you are and that’s beside the point. It’s just that your bed is far too comfortable for your own good and you know today is Saturday, the busiest day at Hal’s Diner, and it just so happens you’re scheduled for an 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. brunch rush. If you had a choice, you’d stay in bed.

But you don’t. And you’re running twenty minutes late… for the fourth time in two weeks.

I’ve got you.

Shut the fuck up.

You wearily snarl, snatching your pillow out from under your head and slamming it against your face, uselessly stuffing it over your ears as if that would somehow miraculously block out the words. 

Usually, the voice stayed quiet. After three years of the repeated promise drifting around your brain like a lost ship at sea, you had finally figured out how to anchor it to the deepest, darkest, most unchartered recess of your mind. Every now and then, though, they’d find a way to rattle the chains, just to remind you of their eternal presence, but it never lasted long. You didn’t acknowledge them anymore. They no longer fooled you.

But, twenty-nine days ago, something reinvigorated the voice, giving them a renewed sense of purpose and a reason to break free.

Twenty-nine days ago, on the exact anniversary of their disappearance, everyone came back. 

Out of the blue, in the middle of the day, all of the people Earth mourned for five years reappeared to a very, very stunned world. Celebration rocked the streets of New York and all over the globe. Lovers lost returned. Mothers. Fathers. Sisters. Brothers. Babies. Friends. They all came back. And the voice in your head broke free of its chains, rampantly bouncing around your mind as if they were on pure steroids, ready to charge forward and find the one your Destined Words belonged to. 

Everything reverted back to normal.

Except, besides your newly released Destined Words, nothing changed for you.

You weren’t there when… when your best friend rematerialized in your previous apartment. You moved to a smaller, modestly priced place six blocks away. It was great for what little money you had, and your landlords, a lovely couple that always leaves you a present outside your door for Christmas and birthdays, were generous enough to accommodate for your lack of funds.

You just couldn’t keep your parents’ apartment. Not when you knew they weren’t coming back. 

No one ever speaks about the casualties of the ones lost that day, the ones who perished from the effects of the blip. For a long time, you just couldn’t cope with the fact that a swerving hit from a rogue truck whose driver turned to dust was all it took to take your parents away. But you had to move on.

Ever since that day five years ago, you’ve been on your own.

You’re sure your friend tried looking for you by now, continually calling up a retired cellphone number, searching through deleted social media accounts, maybe even asking your old high school for your whereabouts to no avail. Even though you’re not far from home, she’d never find you. 

You don’t want to be found. You like being alone.

With a great, gusty sigh, you roll out of bed, grab some clothes and undergarments, then pad to the bathroom, ignoring the chiming circuit of your alarm clock. It can wait. You go through the motions: washing up, putting your hair in its regular bun, brushing your teeth, and staring at your unaged face in the spotted mirror.

It’s not vanity, though it’s common knowledge that your features will be impervious to aging for a long while. You literally haven’t aged a single day since the blip.

It was an intriguing phenomenon after the first two years. Everyone your age who had heard their Destined Words but had yet to meet their Soulmate just stopped aging, and when the younger generation hit the age of eighteen, they stopped aging as well. For some, like you, the effect was felt rather than seen. Ever since the string inside you snapped, you knew that cosmic time would stand still until you connected with your other soul. You’re not holding your breath for that anytime soon.

As you step out of the steam-filled bathroom, your alarm blares out its last chime before switching to the Vmm Vmm Vmm of an incoming call.

You pick up on the sixth ring. “Good morning, Hal.”

“This is the fourth—”

“The fourth time. I know, I know. I’m on my way.”

Hal grunts into the receiver, “Don’t get smart with me, little lady. Just because you’re my best server doesn’t mean I won’t fire you.”

That’s precisely what that means, and he knows you know it. You blow out a sigh, “I’m seriously almost out the door. Like two steps.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, a hint of a grin in his quizzical noise. “Well, hightail it, would’ya? The joint’s packed already and I need all hands on deck, so scoot.”

“Scooting,” you confirm, snagging your bag off of your sofa and grabbing your keys. “Who’s with me today?” Please don’t say Wendy. Please don’t say Wendy.

“Chris and Wendy.”

You groan as you shut the door behind you. “Come on, Hal. She’s dead weight in the morning. I might as well be working with a zombie in an apron.”

Hal grumps, “At least the zombie gets here on time.”

“Have you had coffee yet? You’re not you when you’re decaffeinated.” It’s true. Even with your truancy, Hal wouldn’t hold it over your head more than twice. He’s usually as chipper as a dog in a dog park at this time, bustling and joking up a storm.

He takes a loud sip, then says, “We’re slammed, is all, and I’m missing my best hand.” Two disgruntled heys ring in the background and Hal immediately issues apologies. “Just get here, will ya?”

Before you can remind him again that you are on your way, he disconnects the call.

You’re wondering if it’s too late to go back to bed.

The little, infamous family diner is only seven blocks south of your apartment building, a nice walk when the weather’s good and a pain in the ass when it’s not. You used to enjoy the quiet mornings and the stillness that came with it, but ever since things went back to normal, you can’t survive the walk without a pair of headphones jammed in your ears and your music’s volume turned all the way up. Everyone’s just so… loud.

Thankfully, today, the walk is a straight shot and you’re in the doors within fifteen minutes.

It’s like stepping into a den full of ravenous animals. Worse, it’s like stepping into a den full of ravenous animals and being stuck with the task of serving them.

“Look who’s finally decided to show up,” Wendy chides, stifling a yawn as she shuffles to a table and places down three menus. She’s twenty-two years old and likes setting your teeth on edge.

You deadpan, “Did the cat drag you in from the front door or the back?”

“Knock it off, you two,” warns Chris, walking by with two arms balancing four plates of the Sunrise Breakfast Special. He looks at you, then jerks his chin back to the kitchen. “Boss is about to blow his top.”

Nodding, you make your way to the back, giving a small wave to some regulars. Out of breath and sweat running down his reddened neck, Hal is moving like a man caught in a whirlwind, flipping eggs and pancakes and sausages and hash browns and bacon while checking orders and filling plates. As soon as he hears the kitchen door close and sees you, he visibly sags in relief.

“Don’t bother clocking in. Just put your apron on and get out there.”

You nod. Set down your things. Put on your apron. Arrange a plastic smile.

Go through the motions.

It’s all the same thing every single day. Wake up, work, school, sleep. Repeat. Unlike the other constants, school is something you’re temporarily trying out. It wasn’t your original plan, the whole four years to a bachelor’s degree, then some more years for a master’s. You gave that up long ago. Right now, you’re just taking a free weekend art class at a community college. Oddly enough, it’s something you’re beginning to look forward to on Saturdays and Sundays.

Work, while you’re great at what you do, is never a highlight. 

Hal was right. The diner is slammed, and you’re swept up in the current of rude, demanding customers, snide remarks from Wendy, cheerful shrugs from Chris, and barking orders from Hal for six whole hours. You work through your two fifteen-minute breaks. No one reminds you. You slip on spilled hash browns. No one helps you. You bring back a plate three times to satisfy a customer who kept finding fault with their eggs. No one thanks you.

Everything is back to normal.

I’ve got you.

“Fuck off,” you snap, slapping a hand to your mouth when you see the elderly woman you’re serving knit her brows in revulsion. “Oh, no, ma’am. I’m-I’m sorry, I was—”

She stands and marches out of the diner before you could explain, snatching her ten-dollar tip off the table.

“… talking to myself,” you finish under your breath.

She’s the last of the brunch rush, leaving only the regular afternoon crowd and a few stragglers. The clock near the cash register reads 2:13 p.m.

You brush off the disappointment of a lost tip and head to the kitchen to grab your things and leave, Chris and Wendy following you. Hal’s two other workers, the ones here till closing, cover the floor well. Not like they had much to do.

Hal is whistling a jaunty tune when you walk in, stopping to salute you, Chris, and Wendy with an exhausted grin. “Nice work out there, you guys. See you tomorrow.”

Wendy is out the door the instant she clocks out.

Chris catches your arm as you grab your bag from your small locker. “Hey, um, I sort of heard your little outburst, and I was wondering if you were okay.”

You nod, gently shrugging his hand off. “Yeah, it’s just a tip. I made enough.”

“No, not that,” he shakes his head, clearing his throat and pushing a hand through his choppy beach-blond hair. He ineptly bends his head down a little, getting close enough for a private conversation you do not want to have. “It’s just… you’ve done that before and I just want to make sure everything’s alright with you.”

You can’t put the plastic smile back on, he’s seen it too many times to know it’s not real, so you half-heartedly grin. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, anytime. Hey, so, me and a couple friends are hanging out tonight. There’s gonna be a music festival in Cunningham Park. Wanna hang?”

Chris tries this every week. At first, you thought it was his bashful attempt at asking you out, but he’s a happily taken man with a big heart and a lot of friends. Every customer he meets, boom, they’re friends and soon loyal customers of Hal’s. It’s a gift. You just wish he caught your not-so-subtle hints of evasion.

Tonight, though, you had the perfect excuse. “Can’t. I got class.”

He tilts his head in confusion. “On a Saturday night?”

“Yeah. It’s a free course. Get it where I can take it, you know,” you awkwardly laugh, hoping Chris wasn’t offended as you take a couple of steps back towards the exit.

His smile doesn’t falter. “Maybe next time, then.”

Not likely. “Sure, yeah. See you later.”

You duck out before he says goodbye, dashing out the front door and speed-walking home.

I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

You stop dead in the middle of a sidewalk.

Where did that come from? It’s never said it three times in a row before. Does… does that mean something?

Your breath quickens at the thought, and you spin around, scanning the vacant street. You’re the only one occupying the sidewalk, you and a curious squirrel sniffing at the crisp air. There’s not a person in sight. When you’re certain you’re in the clear, pivoting a glance around one more time for good measure, you pick up the pace, practically running the rest of the way home.

Once you’re in your apartment and the door shuts, you desperately whisper to your mind, “Don’t say it anymore. I don’t want them, okay? I don’t want a Soulmate.”

Nothing.

“I know you hear me,” you bite out aloud, forcefully shoving back the urge to yell. “Stop saying the words.”

Still nothing.

Silence rings hollow in your mind like the voice is waiting for your temper to cool down. Like it knew it upset you and felt chastened enough to back off and take a time out in a corner.

You stand immobile in the middle of your cramped sitting area. Tense. Waiting. Waiting longer than you care to admit. The urge to fight deserts you as quick as it comes, but you’re still standing there with your fists balled up, feeling more and more defeated as the minutes drain away.

The voice isn’t going to leave you alone. You know that. It’s here to serve one purpose, and the only thing holding it up is you. You’re meant to meet whoever those words belong to… but then what? They magically fix you? They love you back to normal? Five years ago, you may have believed they can do that. But, the problem is, you’ve gone through enough life-altering events in the last five years to last you a lifetime, and this one person, this person destined to pair with your soul, won’t be your wave-of-a-wand solution.

You just want it to stop.

I’ve got you.

A lone tear slides down your cheek as you trek to your bed and climb in fully clothed.

For a long time, you simply stare up at the ceiling as the tears leak out the corners of your eyes. You make no noise, and your chest doesn’t jerk up and down with sobs. The tears gather, and then they fall. Gather and fall. Gather and fall until there are no tears left. You continue staring at the ceiling.

You think back to the days when those godforsaken words and the future they foretold brought you happiness. What a wonderful promise, pairing with someone who will always be there for you in some capacity and will instantly love you. You can’t recall any Soulmate story not working out. Maybe they just never speak about it. Why mar the fantasy?

The sun dipped below the horizon a while ago, and now the moon shines bright in the night sky. You missed your art class.

Your body is as stiff as a board when you sit up. There’s a tight pounding in your forehead, either from crying or lack of food, but you aren’t bothered enough to deal with it. Instead, you move to the only window in your room and pull back the curtains to gaze at the stars. Not many are out yet, but they glitter like gems around the moon, and the night sky nears a lovely shade of midnight blue.

The sight is so pretty; you find yourself grabbing a couple of paint bottles, brushes, and a small canvass, then heading out of your apartment, walking up six flights of stairs to reach the roof.

It’s quiet when you get up there, save for the noise of zooming cars below. The first time you came up on the roof, just out of curiosity, you loved how solitary it felt, loved the view overlooking the building-strewn skyline and the overall height of the complex. It became a nice place to visit when you wanted to be by yourself.

You walk over to the edge of the building, sitting your supplies down on the ledge, then look up at the sky for the best angle to capture the moon and the stars.

The sky is vast. So endless. So open. So free. You stop scoping out for the perfect angle and just admire the shining moon when your eyes land on it. It’s waning, only a sliver of its surface visible as it prepares to transition into a New Moon. Then you gaze at the stars as they dimly twinkle back at you… like they can see right through you.

Like they can see your sadness.

You step closer to the ledge, each step laden with the weight of smothered grief. You lost everyone. Your parents. Manda. She’d never recognize the person you’ve become.

You step onto the ledge, not looking down but up, trying to memorize the image.

You lost your Soulmate. That broken string in your chest never felt the same, even after everyone came back. Maybe you were too far gone for any connection.

You turn around. You’d thought you’d feel numb, but acceptance fills you. It’s okay to let go.

You lower your eyes, slowly lean back, and let gravity take over.

Air sails past your ears in a rush as you fall, and you can’t really focus on anything except your erratic heartbeat. You don’t struggle as your body wants. You just fall and wait.

And then, in a sudden flash of red and blue, you’re propelling sideways and swinging upwards, a strong arm pressing you against a hard chest.

“I’ve got you.”

As soon as he said the words, you knew who they belonged to, as if you knew this entire time. Even with the mask covering his face, you knew. But it still doesn’t stop you from incredulously saying, “Peter?”

His masked face snaps to yours. A small part of you tries to pin his surprise on you correctly guessing his identity, but something bigger assures you the reason for his alarm is a match to your own.

He knows you’re his Soulmate.

...

Part III

[cottegecorepanarabread]

you have a what?! pt.3

sorry this is so late I was making a hinata cake for my friend and then remembered I was planning to update today of well. thank you for the likes now enjoy 

chapter 3: body shots and body rolls

Daichi’s POV

Daichi was disappointed when he woke up without Sugawara close to him. He looked over to see Suga tightly holding his pillow and snoring lightly. Daichi decided that he loved both things just as much. 

It was lunch by the time everyone, even Suga and Kageyama, were awake. The all lazed around the kitchen or on the rear boat deck eating. Suga sat next to Daichi on the couch sipping a pink monster. Asahi and Noya made a salad in the kitchen for the group. 

“Hinata,” Asahi called, “will you being me another bowl.” 

Hinata went to get the bowl. On his way back, he got to distracted talking to Kageyama and dropped the bowl, breaking it. 

“Ah Suga I’m so so so sorry,” Hinata cried, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh don’t worry it’s totally fine.” Suga shrugged it off.

“Oi dumbass, why don’t you watch your step next time. Wouldn’t want you to break anything else.” Kageyama snapped.

“Don’t forget you were the one distracting me Bakayama.” Hinata snapped back.

Daichi wondered if he should intervene. He had before when their fights got too bad, but they argued so often he had learned to pick his battles.

“Well I wasn’t the one that dropped the bowl stupid,” Kageyama gave Hinata a small shove towards the kitchen counter.

Asahi quickly picked up the glass salad bowl, trying to prevent anything else from getting damaged. Daichi should definitely intervene. He didn’t want them to get cut on the glass.

“Take it easy Kageyama.” said Daichi.

“I will when he learns to not be such a fucking klutz.” Kageyama pinned him against the counter.

Hinata didn’t say a word. He kept his eyes fixed in Kageyama. Daichi stepped forward when Kageyama grabbed Hinata’s chin. Instead of hitting him, Kageyama kissed Hinata roughly. Daichi definitely shouldn’t intervene.

Kageyama and Hinata where now full on making out against the counter.

“Right in front of my salad,” Asahi deadpanned, “Jesus Christ.”

“Oh get a room!” called Suga.

Kageyama pulled back, remembering he was in public. 

“Sorry.” he said quickly and pulled Hinata off towards their room.

“Asahi will you bring me my salad on the deck? I don’t want to hear what’s gonna happen in there.” Suga lauged and Asahi nodded, “oh and everyone be ready by 4 for dinner, dress fancy.”

Noya, Suga, and Daichi had gone shopping as soon as the boat docked. Noya was dragged along because of his constant snacking. Daichi thought there was something so domestic about pushing the cart while Suga reprimanded Noya for sneaking snakes into the cart. Suga would ultimately give in after complaining it wasn’t on the list. At the checkout, Daichi and Suga were asked how long they had been together. They blushed as they explained they weren’t dating, and the girl apologized profusely.

“What is taking them so long?” Suga nervously tapped his foot. 

They were waiting on Kei and Tadashi to finish getting ready for dinner. It was a short walk, but Suga didn’t want to push it. 

“Suga,” Daichi said calmly, “they will be fine.”

Daichi reached out to hold his arm. He always did this when Suga was visibly nervous. Suga shuddered at the touch, another thing he did when he was nervous.

“Ok,” Kei walked out into the living room/kitchen, “if anyone days one bad thing I will kick your ass.”

Daichi was confused. There was nothing different about Kei’s appearance. He wore brown pants, a matching brown blazer, and a white turtleneck. Sure it was a little too warm for it, but it was normal Tsukishima attire. Then, Tadashi stepped out from behind him.

He wore a black, floral sundress paired with a leather jacket, combat boots, and earrings. He bit his lip, worried his friends might not approve. 

Suga’s eyes lit up, “Tadashi you look so cool.”

Nods and farther words of affirmation came from the rest of the group.

“Alright gang, time for dinner.” Suga turned to lead the way.

Tadashi took Kei’s outstretched arm and followed him out the door. 

Daichi and Suga walked side by side. He couldn’t stop staring at Suga. He always looked beautiful but there were some outfits that made him look even more beautiful, if that was even possible. This was definitely one of them. Suga wore a short sleeve white button up and well fitting black pants. His outfit left him breathless but the kicker was the fact that Suga’s shirt was mostly unbuttoned revealing sliver chains. 

“Daichi? Are you ok, you look a little red. We are almost there, I promise.” Suga smiled.

Yep, Daichi was gonna pass out.

They all sat at a long table on a private balcony. Daichi scanned the menu of the sushi restaurant. Suga had said to order whatever they wanted, but something was wrong

“Suga?” He tapped the boy on his right, “Where are the prices?”

“What do you mean?” Suga laughed.

“Like the prices of the rolls”

“Oh they aren’t there.” Suga said like it was normal.

“But then-“

“Daichi, I said get what you want and I mean that. I really don’t care. My parents gave me their card for a reason.” Suga said, “Do you want me to order for you?”

“Or you could get a few things, and I’ll share.” Daichi really needed to keep his brain from speaking freely.

“That’s even better.” Suga smiled.

Daichi looked around the table at his friends. Noya and Tanaka caused chaos as normal. Kei stared lovingly as Tadashi talk on and on about a video game. Daichi had always thought they felt like his family. Not like they were his kids, no. It was more like he and Suga were the uncles that let the kids do whatever they want. Daichi liked things like this. He had really missed them since he, Suga, and Asahi had graduated. 

“Food’s here.” Suga’s voice pulled Daichi from his thoughts.

“This looks so good.” Daichi surveyed what Suga had ordered.

“Oh I forgot to tell you but there is a surprise for everyone when we get back on the boat.” Suga yelled.

Daichi swore he say Ennoshita smirk into his drink.

After dinner, walked out to the boat deck. Their mouths fell open.

There stood Yachi and Kiyoko by a large bar pulled out from the wall with Doja Cat blasting through the speakers.

“Go have fun everybody!” Suga called.

Daichi stood there awe struck.

“Did I not tell you the boat did this?” Suga laughed.

Daichi watched the dance floor. Suga, Tanaka, and Ennoshita jumped and sang along to kiss me more with Yachi. Kei stood bobbing his head while holding hands with Tadashi while swaying and slightly dancing. Kiyoko laughed as Noya tried to figure out how to do body shots off Asahi. Daichi perked up as Suga went to whisper something to Kiyoko.

Tanaka sat down next to Daichi, “bro I can’t breath, they can really dance forever.”

Daichi nodded as the long changed to the Tap In remix. Suga swayed his hits and Ennoshita followed his lead. Suga reached forward to grab his hips and pulled Ennoshita toward him. 

Daichi mouth went dry, “are they..”

“Dancing on each other,” Tanaka finished,” yeah.”

I’ll blow your fucking back out

At that line, Suga rolled his hips forward and Ennoshita leaned back onto him.

An electric shock ran through Daichi’s body.

“That was hot.” Tanaka muttered.

“Yeah...” Daichi whispered back.

The song changed to Skiing in Japan by Yung Gravy. Noya yelped and pulled Asahi to the dance floor. Suga let go Ennoshita and Daichi sighed.

Daichi couldn’t be more wrong in his relief as the song got to the chorus.

Lean back

Suga began to lean back cover a bit of his face with one had and slapping the hair in front of his stomach with the other, like he was pushing someone’s head.

Lean back, lean back, lean back bitch 

‘Shit’ Daichi though. This can’t be happening. He shifted uncomfortably as Suga repeated the movements. 

At the next song, Suga ran over and grabbed Daichi’s arm.

“Come dance.” Suga shouted over the music.

Daichi let himself be pulled to the dance floor. Hinata and Kagayama danced awkwardly with each other, not yet knowing were to touch or hold each other. Suga danced beside Daichi. He was very away of all of Suga’s body rolls and hip movements. 

He swore Suga was inching closer to him. This was in fact true but Daichi’s feelings were taking over. Suga made slight contact with Daichi’s body and a shiver went up his spin. Suga looked up at him, laughing, then bite his lip.

Daich snapped.

“Inside now,” Daichi leaned down to say in Suga’s here.

Suga followed him inside. Daichi didn’t know what he was doing. His body was moving for him, and he wasn’t in control.

As soon as they got inside and out of eyesight, Daichi pushed him you against the wall. 

“What are you doing?” Suga raised an eyebrow.

“What I should have done a while ago.” Daichi leaned forward, “can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Suga leaned in to close the gap. 

Daichi pulled back first.

“Bedroom?”

Suga nodded. Daichi grabbed him at the knees, and threw him over his shoulder.

“Hey, I can walk myself.” Suga fake pouted.

“I know but you are just so cute like this.”

“I love you Daichi and I have since first year.” Suga kissed the top of his head.

“I love you too.”

tune in next week for daisuga cuddling, more awkward kagehina, and more Tadashi/Suga/Ennoshita gossiping time

[thorinthehottotty]

Ambush - Thorin

A/N: I spent a quarter of my phone battery writing this. Almost went a different direction with it. I have some Kíli Ktuesday smut lined up for later today too.

Summary: Your husband's lovemaking is sweet and generous but he seems to think he should be the only one doing the pleasing. You plan on showing him what he's missing.

Warnings: Pure SMUT. COMPLETELY NSFW. Chains.

Anxiously, you bounce your leg. Well, be fair it was more like a twitching of your foot with the lounging you were doing in your bed. You would be up and pacing if it weren't for the fact that you wanted to be laying here when your new husband entered.

Ah, that was still foreign to you. Thorin, king Under the Mountain, was your husband. When you first arrived in Middle Earth, he was arrogant and broodish and mean. Sexy, maybe, but he was an ass in your mind. But thst was just his exterior. As the months and adventures swept by you found yourself intranced by him. Not the king, but the blacksmith who suffered abuse of men and the young prince who lead his people in their darkest times.

You never thought the love that developed would be requited. You kept your mouth shut and did what he asked of you. You showed your affections in other ways, by forcing him to take part in the group shananigans. (He never fully participated in some of them but you were proud when he would finally take up for a drink with the others or contribute a story, even if it was a dark one.) He would isolate himself and you did your damndest to show him he was not alone.

While he recovered, you'd spend hours with him, especially when he was unconcious. You'd read to him for hours while you were waiting for him to wake that first time. It took him an entire week! You later found out he would often pretend to sleep in order to listen to you read to him.

How many times had you fallen asleep in the enormous cushioned chair you'd dragged next to his bed? Oín only smiled knowingly at you everytime he caught you.

'Maybe you'll be able to wake him with a kiss.' He teased one day.

'I've no idea what your talking about!" You'd automatically snapped back. But he'd walked in to find you brushing hair from Thorin's face and dabbing a cool rag on it. A simple gesture that Thorin seemed to find comfort in you doing.

The day you returned to find Thorin cleared for going about his daily tasks with the least amount of strain, you were a bit disappointed. There was little excuse for you to bring him your company. He was probably sick of you, after all. And you begrudgingly made your way to leave when he called you to you. Requesting you bring a specific title with you later that evening to him. You gaped, mortified about being caught, but found yourself following that order as well.

And it began that you would spend many nights in his chambers, reading softly while he looked over documents of the day or sunk down on another chair with a stiff drink in front of the fire.

It was one of those nights, just a few months prior to now, that he sighed, snatched the book from your hands, and tossed it! You felt a bolt of fear that he'd grown tired of your presence. But he leaned over your lap, a look of great strain on his face.

'What is it, Thorin?'

'I have grown tired of this. As lovely as your voice is, I figured my intentions would be clear by now. I'm going to kiss you.' And boy, did he. He practically crawled right into your lap to do so and proposed on the spot. Not that you minded, though it did come as a bit of a shock to his nephews and sister.

The wedding came so quickly it made you dizzy, but he was not keen on waiting, barely doing more than kissing you and holding you while you read. Sometimes he would take over and that was like liquid gold. It was a bit frustrating at times, but completely worth it. The wedding went off without a hitch and you'd made for the bed as soon as you could. And he made love to you.

It was expected for dwarrow to treat their wives with tenderness and was concidered a privilege to be able to please them, and boy did he. It was a nice change of pace, concidering.

However, you were growing increasing frustrated. He was insistant on be sweet and gentle and loving to you, so much so he didn't seem to want to take any more pleasure from you. You wanted more. You craved him being rough with you, leaving fingerprint bruises on your hips, beard burn on your inner thighs from him devouring you like a last meal.

So you were waiting to ambush him in an sexy piece Dís assured you he would love. Gold lace, delicately woven true gold. It indented the softer flesh gently and exposed much of your thighs and shoulders.

You wanted him to want you so desperately he was rough. You know he's got the capability, but you want something else from him.

So you froze when the door to you chambers clicked open and rolled to you side, propped up by a hand. Your husband entered, eyes searching the room and quickly finding you. Your stomach twisted excitedly when he entered, then more so when he gave you a look of liquid fire.

The door shut hard and he lifted his hand to lock it, not glancing away as he lowered the bar across the door.

"Incredibly rude of me to keep my wanting wife waiting." He offered. He was later than usual, but that was fine. He shrugged out his robes, stripping slowly which was quite the sight. He was like a candy shop of muscle and hair and scars and tattos and just enough chub. Something that always made your mouth water. You sit up in the bed as he kicks his boots off.

"It's okay. I want to try something different." You murmur. He arches an eyebrow in interest.

"How would you like to be pleased tonight?" He leans in, pressing his lips to yours fully as he tries to lean over you and push you back onto the bed.

That would ruin everything! You'd just have to get him to lay on the bed, head by the pillows. With a grin, you scoot quickly out of reach on the bed. There's an excited flash in his eyes at this, despite the circles under his eyes.

"Husband," you call softly, tilting your chin up and hooding your eyes tautingly. "I want something from you."

One of his knees presses into the bed to push him onto it. He's gazing you over excitedly, already tugging at the ties on his trousers. It would have been a sight, the both of you kneeling on either edge of the bed, nearly naked.

"I would give you anything," he promises with a proud smile. Because he could. Anything you could want. You gulp as you gesture him closer.

"Anything?"

"Aye. Anything." He slides closer and once he's half way there, you shove him towards the pillows. He allows you to, falling onto his side and then rolling on his back. Grinning, you mount your husband.

The reason you were so hesitant about it before is he had denied you pleasuring him with your mouth. Explained that it was his job to please you. It had happened a few times and before you could argue, made you lose yourself. It bothered you.

So you'd lock away those dangerous hands and pin him for now so he couldn't use his mouth on you. Not only was he King Under the Mountain, but he was apparently King of Teasing You so Damn Bad You Would Scream and Cry During Your Intense Orgasms.

Leaning down, you kiss him like you were starving for him, letting him groan contently into your mouth. You missed his taste, even if you had seen him and snuck a few between the meetings that day.

"Don't keep me in suspense, Y/N."

"Patience is a virture, Thorin." You smirk down at him. With his wrists pressed down into the pillows, you grin. He quirks an eyebrow, a little on edge with that face. And fast as lightning, you clamp the cuffs dangling over the headboard to his wrist.

Shock fills his face and he tests the strength. "Y/N, I'm not sure what this is about, but you have my full attention." You giggle at him, palming his chest.

"You are a fantastic lover, my love. But I want to give you your pleasure too!" You tell him, teasingly pinching a nipple. He shivers and then gives you a disapproving look.

"I have my pleasure, pleasing you." His voice is as stern as his face.

"I want to taste you, my king, and then I want you to be rough with me. Bite me, bruise me, make it so I won't be able to walk for days." His eyes widen at that statement and his cheeks turn pink. He shakes his head at you.

"I won't hurt my one." You smile tenderly at him and scratch down over his ribs gently. Despite his horrified expression, he can't stop the shivering his body makes, nor the twitching you feel underneith your perch.

"I will let you know if it is too much, Thorin. We don't have to be full blown tonight, we can work our way up to it. I'll show you how to spank me."

You were a bit scared you might give him a heart attack with some of these options.

"Spank you?" He repeats. "Like a child?" It makes you burst into giggles.

"Not quite. You cup your hand like this, and just swat on the rear. Right at where it meets the thigh." Thorin blinks in shock. You smile sweetly down at him. "Tonight, however, I will be pleasuring my darling husband."

Thorin gives a groan and tries the chains you'd hidden with your flashy lingerie. "It's my job to pleasure you." His protest falls on deaf ears as you lift a thigh over his leg and slip between them. He squirms underneith you nervously.

"You promised me anything, Thorin. Let me pleasure you. Please, my love. It's all I could think about today." You sweeten the pot by pressing gentle kisses to his hips, just above his losened trousers. You peer up at his distressed face, feeling a but guilty. His eyes flutter at the sensation and he breathes.

"Do you truely want to?" He asks softly.

"So badly."

You lick a long lap up over his side and he gives a deep groan. It makes you smile and trail kisses up to his nipple. His face is fluttering. Your hands stroke his sides as he pants above you. His warm skin is delcious. Your lips brush over his scars lovingly and he sighs against you.

He gazes down at you, a softened look on his face. Without arguing further, you allow him to think on your words. Instead, you kiss at his chest and slide a hand lower. You could never keep your hands from touching him. He gave a gasp when you slipped a hand into his trousers and grip him gently. Two pumps have him groaning loudly and letting his head fall into the sheets.

"I will pleasure my husband tonight." The chains were loose enough he could stop you. He could slide away from you. "Lift your hips." He reluctantly agrees, allowing you to drag his pants down his glorius thighs. "Mmm. Thank you." He shivers when you press a kiss to his thigh.

As much as you'd love to tease him, tonight you're hungry. Leaning in you lick the underside of his cock, base to tip, and then slide your mouth over as much of him as you could. He released the most delicious gasp and moan, helpless you. He was large, but not so large you can't comfortably fit most of him in your mouth. Girthy.

He shivers under your mouth, gasping helplessly. You won't tease him. Not tonight as he's jerking against the lapping of him inside your mouth. With every draw back, you circle his tip with your tongue. He's straining and groaning at the chains and you pause to wait.

His eyes that were squeezed shut, dart open to meet yours in shock. "Why'd you stop?" He demands, breathless. His hair a mess from him throwing it againdy the pillows.

"Just making sure you are okay, baby." You stroke his thighs gently and dip your head back down. He groans when you begin to hollow your cheeks on the draws.

He curses, and the chains rattle. You let the drool that had built up dribble down him as you draw back to wetly lick him. His jaw is dropped open, awed by the scene before him. You feel the spit on your face. Now you tease him a bit, wanting to give him a sample of everything, fully expecting him to cum quickly with his first experience. When you draw back up him with a flattened tongue and he whimpers, eyes rolling into his skull. Pride fills you at this.

"I'm going to make you cum now," you tell him. Shock has him snapping to look at you.

"I'm not clo-Oh!" His whole body tense and curls toward you. You scoop up his balls in your hand, massaging gently as you taking?him in your mouth and use the other hand to stroke the base as you suck and lick all at once. You don't relent and within a few seconds your husband has the chains nearly wrenched from the wall, gritting his teeth. He tries to warn you but you don't listen, letting him fill your mouth eagerly. He's snarling out curses, unable to stop watching as you drink every last drop.

He's spent for a moment, looking disoriented. You giggle at him, proud of your work. "Are you okay, Thorin?" You asking, crawling up to nuzzle his cheek. In his panting, he gives you a slightly annoyed look. It was more playful than actually annoyed.

"Fuck," he groans as he pants. You grin at him. You suspect he had never even entertained the thought of that happening and probably found it incredibly erotic. You were glad you gave him such a display.

"Next time I'll take my time for you," You promise and twist to grab the key off the end table. He reaches for you, guiding you to lay with him when he's freed. His lips capture yours eagerly, groaning into your mouth.

"You're not chaining me to the bed next time."

"No, I promise." You giggle against his mouth. His hands rub down your body tenderly, warming your skin. He's kicking his trousers off completely. One of his hands slides over the curve of your ass a dips between your legs. You slide a thigh over his to give him easier access.

He grunts, pleasantly surprised when he dips his fingers benieth the gold lace. He leans back to gaze at you. "You enjoyed yourself," he marvels, making you grin.

"I told you, it's all I could think about today. Wouldn't mind you being rough with me either," you offer. Your husband grins at you, kissing you deeply, drawing a breath through his nose in the process.

"Get on your stomach, amrâlimê." With an excited thrill, you roll. He pushes the lace up, over your rear and lets one of his hands sweetly rub a cheek. Then he rolls to his knees behind you. He jerks you back so your ass is up in the air and you gasp in delight. "Tell me if it's too much." You nod with excitedly.

All at once he drags you back onto his cock and your lungs drag in an involuntary gasp. He lets you bask in that for a moment. He always does, and then he's holding your hips and snapping his hips into yours delightfully. You don't even attempt to stop the moans, pushing your own hips back into him. "Harder," you beg when you can't quite get the momentum you need for it.

He gives a grunt of awknowledgment and snaps his hips into yours with the bruising force you craved. "Yes! Yes!" You call when he continues to take you roughly from behind. The delightful friction you needed burning between your legs. You could only clutch at the sheets and try to brace for the impact of his hips.

Your moaning grows louder when you feel the familiar twisting of your stomach. Your husbands gentle lovemaking never had you orgasming without the helping of his talented hands. It took you by a bit of a surprise that you had an approaching orgasm but welcomed it.

When it had you trembling and cumming, your husband groaned at the clenching around him, crying out his name. It had him folding over you as you milked a second orgasm from him. The both of you gasp for breath as you feel him spilling inside you.

He wraps his arms around you and drag you down to the bed. Pillows aren't necessary as he slips from you. The both of you just tremble and let the sweat stick you to each other, curled together. "Thank you," you hum, eagerly rolling into him. You'd be very sore tomorrow. Thorin chuckles.

"Are there more things you are wanting to try?" You give him a breathless chuckle.

"Of course, my love."

"I won't mind more of your ambushes." He playfully nips your ear in punishment and you laugh against him. That was a good term for it.

"Maybe you'll have to chain me up," you offer. He growls eagerly in your ear.

"I'll need smaller cuffs for that."

"Your side table. Top drawer." Thorin pauses, surprise. You smirk at him over your shoulder.

"Mmm. I have an insatiable wife." He kisses your cheek and nuzzles behind your skull.

"Just you wait. I'll show you things."

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only Dancing

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin​

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: You don’t expect Bucky to join you for a night out. But who says an old wolf can’t learn new tricks.  (This is in the “Only For A Moment” universe but can be read as a one shot.)

Warnings: Smut, some jealousy, other than that just fluff

A/N: I feel like I should point out that I ship Okoye and M’Baku because she could handle that man. 

Also, this is the last drabble before part 2 starts. So. Many. Feelings. 

(Sorry if you got tagged twice. Apparently the tags didn’t take. Beginning to think that @invisibleanonymousmonsters​ is on to something by not fucking with a tag list because UGH sometimes it’s a pain. Anyway...

TAGS ARE OPEN 🙃

“Poetry,” Nakia says on a sigh as the knives fly back into your waiting palms. “Pure, violent, poetry.” You can’t help but laugh as the small vibranium knives slot themselves back into their holster around your wrist. 

“It’s not all me, Shuri made these magical things.” They really were perfect. Calibrated to return automatically to their holster at the mere whisper of your power. 

They weren’t the only magic Shuri had worked. 

Originally, the thought of letting anyone - even someone like Shuri - run any kind of tests on you was at best terrifying and at worst made you contemplate murder. Now though, you couldn’t be more grateful. 

Your whole life you’d been a mystery to yourself, never really knowing why you were different or really what you were capable of. After Hydra had their hands on you the sense of being a stranger in your own skin had only grown. How could anyone trust themselves when they had no way of knowing their limits or even how their body functioned?

In less than a week Shuri had, for the most part, unraveled the mystery. 

Your power? A genetic anomaly, likely from your father’s side. She was still puzzling over just how that anomaly worked, how it reacted with your brain to produce your telekinesis. What she did figure out was that, as you suspected, the more you used this ability the stronger and more precise it became - with limits.

“Self-preservation will kick in at some point,” she explained when you told her about the times when you’d found your ability overwhelming. “The mind can only handle an influx of so much information at a time before it overloads.”

What Hydra had done? A bastard version of what kept Steve and Bucky spry even at 100 years old. 

“The cellular regeneration is a bit slower, and it doesn’t seem to have done as much in terms of strengthening the proteins in your body,” she said. You’d stared at her blankly. “Basically,” she sighed, “you’re a really good fake to Rogers’ and Barnes’ name brand. Almost as good but your strap may break sooner than theirs.” 

Once she knew how you ticked she immediately began crafting weapons unique to your abilities, like the knives - which she called Panther Teeth, fairly accurate considering they were terrifyingly sharp and small enough that they were almost unassuming. 

As you weren’t an official member of the Dora Milaje you didn’t get the spear they carried, instead, Shuri made you twin short spears that hung at your side. They fired similarly to their full-size cousins but at a more rapid pace and shorter burst since your power could balance any recoil. 

The best by far was the vambraces that fit around your forearms. Similar to T’Challa’s suit they absorbed kinetic energy in a fight but when paired with your power they could release that energy in more focused blasts, form a shield, or even send out a powerful wave of force. 

All of Shuri’s amazing creations paired with your own growing strength made you feel like someone to be reckoned with, someone who could protect who and what she loved no matter the threat. You’d never known freedom like this. 

“So, did you convince him to come tonight?” You ask Nakia as you unfasten the holsters from your wrists. 

“Pff,” she scoffs. “A king can’t just go out whenever he wants.” She says in a pretty perfect imitation of T’Challa. 

You laugh, “A king is still mad you declined his proposal.”

“I didn’t decline necessarily,” she says, slipping free of her training gear. “I just told him I wasn’t ready to be queen.”

“Can’t say I blame you.” The two of you settle into the steam room, your tired muscles already singing in the relaxing heat. 

“What about you?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you sell that wolf of yours on making a public appearance?”

You give her a sideways glance, “What do you think?” 

“I think Okoye owes me money,” Nakia says with a grin.

“What?! She actually bet that he’d come?”

“She did,” Okoye says stepping in the room to join you both. 

“Time to pay up general!” Nakia goads. 

“Not just yet,” a sly smile curls Okoye’s lips. “I have a plan.”

-

“How do you even know they’re both going to be at the farm?” You ask as the hovercraft sails in the direction of your home. 

“I know everything,” Okoye responds. 

“Not true,” Nakia quips. Okoye throws her a glare. 

“She’s right. You didn’t know the name of the second Star Wars movie.”

“Those films are not in the right order!”

“You also didn’t know that Shuri was planning to sneak out to Coachella,” Nakia points out. You nod in agreement. 

“Ok, fine,” she concedes with a half-hearted sigh. “M’Baku told me. T’Challa asked if he wanted to join them but-” 

“But that man goes where you lead,” Nakia laughs. 

“Of course he does,” Okoye says. Apparently, the leader of the Jabari had been none too friendly before the attempted usurping. Since then though, he an Okoye had grown rather close, though they refused to make anything official.  

Her plan was a simple one. Since you’d brought your things to get ready at her place in the city there was no obvious reason to go back to the farm for anything unless there was something she or Nakia just desperately wanted to borrow. So, you’d all get ready and take a quick romp to the countryside to grab a necklace or earrings as to tempt your men to join up. 

T’Challa may take the bait but you knew that, even though your ass looked immaculate in these high waist leather shorts, your husband would not be joining you this evening. You shared as much. 

“Alright, $50 he shows,” Okoye bets. 

“Oh, I’ll take that bet,” you shake her offered hand as your house comes into view through the twilight. 

Sure enough, T’Challa and Bucky were sitting by the lake glasses in hand. The two men look back as you all disembark. 

“Two elders enjoying a peaceful evening. It’s so cute,” Nakia jabs. 

“You’re so funny,” T’Challa tosses back, dragging his eyes from her plunging neckline with visible effort and back to the water. 

“Everything ok?” Bucky asks, rising to meet you. Ever the worrier. 

“Yup. Nakia wanted to borrow a necklace is all.” He nods and holds the curtain open for you to go inside.

It’s now that he seems to fully take in your outfit, his eyes growing wide.

The black lace bustier you borrowed from Nakia left little to the imagination but was kept in check by the cropped moto jacket and of course, there were the leather shorts. The whole thing was finished by the heeled Doc Marten’s which you’d nearly wept over when you brought them home from your first trip shopping with Nakia. Being able to build a wardrobe again was an unexpected Wakandan perk.

You fight back a burble of laughter as you watch him swallow hard, averting his eyes from your ample chest. 

Without a glance back at him you head straight to the bedroom to fish out a long chain necklace that would perfectly fit with Nakia’s deep cut neckline - this may have been a last-minute ruse but you had dressed people for a living once, you could amp up your girls look and try to bait your husband into going out with leather booty shorts at the same time. 

When you turn back he’s leaning in the doorway, clearly having been staring at your ass. 

“You look nice,” he says finally meeting your eyes. 

“I look hot,” you counter with a smirk. “There’s a difference.” 

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. You lean in and plant a kiss on his cheek, your dark red lipstick not leaving a single mark. 

“Have a good night babe,” you toss over your shoulder and head back outside. 

T’Challa is chatting somewhat awkwardly with Nakia as Okoye grins like a Cheshire cat beside them. 

“Got it!” You call to Nakia, holding up the necklace. 

Nakia turns her back to you and you clasp it on. The gold choker adds the right amount of shimmer and the long front piece falls down into the neck of her dress drawing the eye. Perfect. 

“See, it was just what this needed.” 

Nakia grins, “You’re right. Ok, let’s go! Bye boys!” With that, the three of you are back on the hovercraft without another word. 

-

A couple of hours later you push through the bodies on the dance floor to the booth you all claimed. Okoye and M’Baku lounge, sipping their drinks. 

“I think you owe me $50,” you say, finishing your own cocktail - it didn’t do anything much for you but you did like the taste. 

“The night is still young!” Okoye protests. “Did you see what they were wearing? It’s not like they could just roll out like that. Give them time.” 

“I’ll make sure she pays up,” M’Baku says with a wink. 

“Holding you to that!” You yell before heading back to the floor. 

It felt good to have nights like this again - laughter, and friends, and music loud enough to drown every worry. You didn’t even mind the crowd, nor the stranger with his hands on your hips. 

There’s a small ripple through the sea of people and you see T’Challa join Nakia on the floor. Okoye had pulled M’Baku out too, seeing them together her head falls back in a triumphant laugh. You shake your head, smiling, and continue to dance. 

The feeling of someone’s eyes on you sends a tingle up your spine. Methodically you scan the pulsing dark of the club, telling yourself there is no threat despite your mind automatically assuming the worst. 

In a flash of light, you see him on the other side of the floor, just beyond the crowd of bodies moving to the music. His hair hangs loose, a tight black tee strains across his chest, the left arm tucked in neatly, and his hand is shoved in the pocket of a pair of dark slim fit jeans that you’re not sure he owned before tonight. 

You smile, chalking his scowl up to the loud crowded space he finds himself in. With a nod, you step away from the man you’d been dancing with and head for Bucky. When he doesn’t move forward you send a bit of your power out to wrap around him, thinking to pull him in. He doesn’t budge. 

Turning away he stalks from you and the dancing crowd. 

Now you’re a little confused. You walk all the way out to the open-air terrace at the back of the club. He’s nowhere to be found. 

You make your way down the terrace steps to the first landing, away from the crowd. Why come all the way here… You wonder when a rough hand grips your arm spinning you back into a dim service corridor. Bucky’s body presses hard into yours pinning you to the wall. 

The dark look on his face clouds his blue eyes, but still, he’s so gorgeous it makes your breath catch. Gripping your jaw with his powerful hand he tilts your face up just a bit, holding it as his kiss sears you in place. It’s a hungry, passionate, possessive kiss. His tongue immediately parting your lips, tasting you, demanding more. When he pulls back you’re panting. 

Despite the heat of that kiss, his expression remains unchanged, fingers digging into your skin. Slowly his grip lessens, calloused touch trailing down your neck until they reach the collar of your jacket. 

Faster than your flustered mind can process right now, he grips the collar of your jacket, using it to spin you around to face the wall. In one swift tug, he pulls the jacket down your arms, tossing it aside. 

His hand rests on your chest, pressing you into him. The heat of his breath on your neck and his stubble barely scratching against your shoulder makes desire sing through your body. The sensation distracts you so much you don’t notice that his hand had migrated to the button of your shorts. 

Sure fingers loosen the skin-tight garment, the zipper crawling down. 

“Bucky,” you breathe in weak protest. 

“Shut up,” he growls fingers dipping into you to find that you’re already dripping. Biting your lip you grind against him, always eager for his touch. 

 “That’s how you moved with him,” his voice is gravel rough against your ear. A light bulb goes off in your mind and your movement ceases. “Would you rather have him?” Bucky presses the outline of his hard cock against the curve of your ass. 

Holy shit. You almost laugh but manage to hold it in. 

“Are you jealous Mr. Barnes?”

There are no words just his ragged breath. He answers with the sound of his own zipper lowering, his hand roughly tugging your shorts down your ass. 

“Answer me.” The demand in his voice makes your mouth water for some reason. Tilting your head back onto his shoulder you look into those stormcloud eyes of his.

“I only want you.” You reach for him, pulling his throbbing cock from his jeans. “I only ever want you.”

“Good.” This time his kiss is rough but fleeting before he pulls your underwear to the side and thrusts himself into you. Your hand flies to your mouth to catch your cry as your body stretches around him. 

The force of him threatens to knock you off balance. He reaches his hand around both steadying you and finding your clit at the same time. Rhythmically he rolls the tender bud under his middle finger, making every nerve ending in your body vibrate. His pace quickens and you think you will not be able to hold in this scream, it’s too good, too much. 

“Quiet now, sweetheart,” he says low, his own breath staggering. 

Barely you manage to stifle the sound of your orgasm rocking through your body. A moment later you feel Bucky’s cock pulse, a soft moan from him making your hair stand on end. 

He pulls out and you tug your shorts up. When you turn to face him he’s plucking your jacket off the ground. 

“Here,” he holds it up, as you slip back into it. Once it’s on his arm wraps around your chest holding you so tight you can feel his heart still racing against your back. 

“I meant it,” you say, relaxing into the comforting feel of him. “You’re all I want, Bucky.” He nods, his cheek resting against the side of your head. 

“Seeing you… I don’t think I’ve ever been the jealous type but…”

“It was just dancing babe.” 

He huffs out a dry laugh, “It doesn’t look like just dancing.” Turning in his arms to face him you take hold of his ass, pulling his hips to yours.

“Next time just come with me then,” you move against him. “You love to dance.”

A small smile plays on his lips, “I don’t know this kind of dancing.” 

“It’s easy.” You can hear the music clear enough pouring from the open doors above you. “Just feel the music. No steps to remember. Just be present.” 

Moving your hands to his hips you guide them to move with your own. Soon enough he’s getting a feel for it, letting his hands caress your curves. 

“See, easy,” you say smiling up at him. “We should get going before Okoye comes looking.”

He nods. As you begin to step away he cups your cheek, pulling your mouth to his once more. This time the hunger is replaced with something far richer that sends tingles down your spine. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love all of you,” you respond. “Even the jealous bits.”

“Oh?”

“Yup. Especially if it gets you to fuck me in an alley, kinda hot.” He barks out a laugh.

“I’d say it’s more a hallway. What kind of husband would I be if I fucked you in an alley.”

“A fun one,” you say with a wink. Taking his hand in yours, you both head back upstairs. 

“Well you two look damn near giddy,” Okoye teases. They’d all set up at one of the terrace tables. 

“Just a quick dancing lesson. He’s a fast study,” you say. Bucky sits in the one open seat and you perch on his thigh. 

“Uh-huh,” Nakia says with a sideways glance. 

“So,” Bucky says, arm giving you a little squeeze, “You all already tired?”

“We’ve been out longer than you old wolf,” Okoye says. 

“Psh,” T’Challa waves a hand. “This is weak.” 

“You both rolled up maybe 20 minutes ago, what do you mean weak,” Nakia tosses back at him. 

“He’s right. Didn’t look like anyone could even break a sweat dancing like that,” Bucky pokes. 

“Oh, the White Wolf wants to break a sweat, eh?” 

“I think he does, Oko,” Nakia answers. 

“I don’t know if the colonizer can handle it,” M’Baku laughs. 

“Wanna bet?” Bucky says with a wolfish grin. 

Two more clubs and several hours later M’Baku is in the process of doing 100 pushups on the street with Okoye perched on his back because the colonizer had, in fact, handled it. In fact, he’d handled it better than you by mastering some new moves - you could admit you were a little jealous. 

“One hundred!” Okoye declares. M’Baku stands, wiping the sweat from his brow. 

“Could have just bet money you old wolf,” M’Baku grumbles.

“Too easy. And less fun for the rest of the group,” Bucky smirks, patting M’Baku on the shoulder. 

Nakia gasps, shooting up from the step she’d been perched on, nose up sniffing the air. 

“Chapati,” she groans. 

“This is happening,” T’Challa declares, grabbing Nakia’s hand and leading her toward the intoxicating smells of meat, spices, and bread. 

Within the hour, the six of you have loaded up on Chapati, Rolexes, and Bajia - the magic of meat, cheese, and starch being truly universal - and are sprawled around the king’s living space laughing and eating. It feels almost too good to be true. 

In the small hours of the morning, you finally fall into bed, stomach, and heart full to bursting. Bucky flings his arm around you, holding you close. 

“So,” he asks in your ear, “when’re we going dancing again?”

Tags: @bluegirlusa1  @l0kisbitch  @tazzi-baby  @disagreetoagree  @woodyandbuzz20-01  @mooniightbucky   @saundrasays  @breezy1415  @alyssaj23  @mywinterwolf​  @wonderlandmind4​  @fairislesheets  @anamcg317  @buckaroo-barness​  @jazztherebel​  @peachthatdrinkslemonade​  @regulusirius​   @auskitty​ @babyimp1967​ @katecolleen​  @handplucked​  @stevehesaidabadlanguageword​  @darkdragonphoenix​  @issanitydead​  @thestorydetective​  @buckysstar​  @wintersoldierswhore  @greyeyedsmile14​  @watchoutforfrostbite​  @for-the-love-of-the-fandom​  @jewelofwinter​  @siriuslycloudy2​  @hardygal69​  @marvelousmeggi  @jdoenson​  @gamorazenn​ @wildmoonflower​ @cutie1365​ @demonlover87​ @winterboobearsworld @this-kitten-is-smitten​ @damnaged-princess​ @amorluzymelodia​ @nutellakirb​ @nighttwingg​

[the-silentium]

Bloodhound

Masterlist - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 5172 words

Warnings: Blood, gore, curse, monsters, ANGST.

A/N: Yessss two chaps in two days!! Thanks to every single one of you who left comments and kuddos on the previous chap. You're all awesome 💜

**Also! Words in bold are words said in French, which means the clones can't understand it. I stopped writing the French in actual French for you guys, it'll be more useful in the future.**

Taglist:  @haloangel391​ / @lightning-wolffe​ / @cherrydemon5​ / @and-claudia​ / @clone-rambles​ / @mandaloriandin​ / @lackofhonor / @gaymasonjar

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

//25 minutes earlier//

"That's not him! Guys!" You yelled in the comlink you fished in your pocket in a haste, almost making yourself trip when you pulled on the fabric of your pants at the same time.

The gap separating you from them was increasing more and more with each step they took. Damn their long legs and commando training, you weren't made to chase this kind of prey!

"I know his voice Y/N! That's him!" Wrecker was too damn sure of himself, his confidence affecting his brothers' judgment as well. 

It didn't take long for rule number one to be thrown overboard and surprisingly it wasn't by the one you expected, no offense Techie. 

"Stay under the trees!"

This couldn't be happening. They were all running headfirst to their deaths. According to the lore, Venustes didn't affect more than one person at a time. You couldn't know for sure if the lore was reliable or if the other three were following out of concern for the fake 99, but they had to snap out of their own mind trap soon or else they would all be dragged down. 

"H-" A clawed hand appeared inches from your face, cutting short your attempt to call out for your sergeant. 

Instinctively, you threw your body to the ground to avoid getting grabbed by the head and ultimately being crushed like a berry in its grasp and crawled to continue running. Alas, the Algax wasn't as dumb as you thought, his other hand swiftly reached forward to stab your right thigh with one of its fingers, preventing you from escaping. 

Your screams of pain were muffled by the hand pinning your face to the dirt, waiting before your lungs were empty of any air to lace its long sharp digits around your torso. The feeling barely registered through the thick fog of pain coming from your thigh. 

Your first instinct was to yell at the top of your lungs for help, maybe your distress would get them out of their haze, saving their lives as well as yours, but you quickly found out that your lungs were empty and unable to expand to receive more oxygen. 

The lack of air in your system mixed with the agonizing pain from the retreating talon in your thigh almost knocked you unconscious. You could feel your blood escaping your wound to drip down your legs and nourish the ground under your suspended form. 

It leaned closer, a low crackling sound escaped the slits on its temples. With considerable efforts, your good leg moved up to push against its torso to keep its horrifying face away from yours, the up-close view causing more tears to gather in your eyes. 

Fear and the lack of oxygen quickly took over your body in the form of violent shivers shooking your whole frame. The building pressure encompassing you once more was excruciating, your bow laid on the ground out of reach while your arms were pinned down along your sides, keeping you from stabbing your way out of the situation. 

All you could do was scream in your head out of pain and fear, waiting until your bones gave up under the tightening grasp to pierce your organs and kill you slowly. The boys seemed way too entranced to come to your aid, leaving you to feel as miserable as when you were hunting for the village, without back up and entirely alone. If you were lucky, you'd die alone without another beast feasting on your still alive-but-unable-to-move self. This would be a nice death, as horrible as it sounded. 

You hoped the boys would survive though. Even if they apparently totally forgot that you were there. Not that this came to you as a surprise. People who gravitate around you for some time always tend to go away on their own, leaving you behind just like the clones. But you couldn't hate them for it, your heart already knew it was coming and had prepared itself for this right moment. 

After all, they had to lie to their chain of command and train a primitive idiot how to fly a ship, they were trapped on this infernal planet once again because you nearly died and they hadn't seen the Shinehorn sneaking its way into their ship, being too busy fussing over your comatose self. Oh and let's not forget that you ended an innocent's life right in front of them without warning. It was only a matter of time before they left. 

Plus, if they were so desperate to meet this 99, it surely meant that he was highly special to them whereas you were the newbie, so no you weren't mad. You merely wished you had someone who could make you forget everything around like this 99. It seemed nice to have someone that important.  

And finally, if you died maybe you would find a way to come back to haunt them. This could be fun, you could mess with Crosshair's rifle, disturb Tech while he was tweaking with his prototypes, pushing Wrecker around to your liking because he couldn't possibly defend himself against you anymore and most important of all, you could mess with Hunter by constantly untying his goddamn bandana. It would drive them all mad, you knew it. 

After some thoughts, you knew they would make it off this planet alive. Together they had a good chance. Hunter's acute senses along with their brains and elite commando training gave them an advantage the natives never had. Hopefully, they would stay in these parts of the jungle until daylight, where they knew how to deal with the monsters living around. 

Yeah... Good luck guys. 

Eyes closed, you waited for the inevitable snaps of your bones. It resonated between the trees, sickening and disgusting you to the core, but you weren't flooded under any more pain than the one radiating from your thigh. Instead, you felt nauseous for a whole second when you were once again thrown away, landing on the ground harshly. 

Your body rolled on the dirt, bouncing a couple of times under the force of impact. For as far as you remembered there wasn't a single time in your life when you've been thrown around as much as tonight. This was getting tiring and it’s been dark for only a bit more than two hours. Lucky you. 

Still laying on your back, you breathed erratically to provide the much-needed oxygen to your organs, watching upside down the Algax receiving a second arrow to the head, effectively scaring it away. 

A hunter. You were saved. You were fine. 

Huffing, your body went limp at the lack of imminent danger and talons menacing your life. Maybe you could rest-

"Shit. She's really alive?" A hunter you recognized as Farlan walked out of the shadows to slowly approach your form like you were a trapped animal. 

"So it's true then. It's your fault they're back." Another Hunter spat, literally, missing your face by an inch. Kerth never liked you, obviously. 

You would have liked to say that those were the hunters you desperately wanted to come and rescue you, but then it would be a lie. None of them appreciated your presence even slightly so they all meant the same thing. This will be a drag. 

"Now, who's back? And why is it always my fault?" You pushed on your forearm to sit straight, grunting at the pain in your right leg. 

Shit. The hole left by the talon wasn't big, approximately two inches wide, but it was bleeding profusely. It was sickening to be able to see the ground through your flesh so you opted to keep pressure on the wound with your hands, camouflaging the hole like it wasn't even there. If only the pain could disappear as easily...

"The nightmares. They're back because you're still alive." Kerth pulled a piece of gauze from a pocket on his belt, the sight of the medical supply pulled a relieved sigh out of you. 

Wait what?

"So the council wants a word." He said with so much venom that your heart skipped a beat. This wasn't good. At. All. 

Before you could react, the gauze found its way in your mouth, quickly followed by an irritating rope that despite your weak thrashing around got attached behind your head. 

You were brutally pushed onto your belly, hands pulled behind your back to be attached tightly with skillful fingers. A muffled scream escaped your mouth when a knee pressed onto your wounded thigh, tears joining your blood on the dirt. 

"Because of you, I've lost friends tonight. I'll make sure to pay you a visit once the council is done with your stupid ass." He growled in your ear. 

Oh, you were so dead. Your bet was on the council, but if by some miracle they weren't the one to put an end to your life, then Kerth was the next bet. Maybe you shouldn't have sabotaged his weapons the day of the hunt competition. Or put some poison ivy in his hunting clothes. Or laugh whole-heartedly when he got shit on by a Furant during his ceremonial speech in front of the whole village. Or… one of the numerous pranks you pulled on him for payback of his daily shitty attitude towards you.

Farlan was the one to pull you up and push you forward, leaving the job to spot the monsters to Kerth. The thought of running or fighting was completely futile. You wouldn't run very far with your untreated leg, there was the possibility that they would shoot you down out of spite too. They seemed very fed up at you for some reason. How could you be the cause of the nightmares reappearing? Also, they were gone? Since when?!

This was getting weirder and weirder. 

_________________

//Present - 10:48 pm//

"I got her position. She's close” The corners of Wrecker’s lips lifted slightly. They could track you, everything would be fine from here. You weren’t lost. “and unmoving." The whispered last words rang loud and clear in all the clones' ears.

Wrecker's breath wasn't the only one to abruptly stop. 

The smile quickly left his face, as well as a majority of his blood. You couldn’t be dead. This couldn’t be happening. 

���Where?” Hunter’s hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly around his blaster,

“700 meters that way.” He pointed deeper into the jungle, where they all came from. 

A weight fell on his stomach and he had to force a deep breath in. You hadn’t made it out of the jungle with them. They had outrun you and left you behind on your own. 

Without a word Hunter took the lead, Tech following right behind with Crosshair on his heels. Wrecker took a single second to gulp down his guilt and shake his arms lightly to regain feeling in his body and not worsen his wounds. He followed silently behind the group, squinting attentively to discern the shadows with his half working equipment.

“300 meters.”

You were resourceful. You knew your planet like the back of your hand. There was no way you were dead. 

“100.”

Please 99. Don’t let her be dead.

Crosshair stumbled on Tech as the brown-haired clone abruptly stopped, looking around like he was searching for something. With a step forward, Tech crouched to grab a small object on the ground to show it to the rest of them. 

“Kriff!” Hunter punched a nearby tree, exhausted by this succession of ill-fated events. There in Tech’s hand was your comlink, their only way of locating you on this living prison that was this planet. 

Wrecker held onto the last hope he had. There wasn’t any blood, you could still be fine. Maybe you’d dropped your comlink while running away. 

“Hunter.” Crosshair’s voice was unsettling. His usual dry snarky self was replaced by a more small and scared tone that the soldier hadn’t heard in a while. “That’s a lot of blood.” 

And it was. The puddle was big enough and it looked like you'd struggled quite a bit in it too.

The world was spinning. He knew battalions lost men every time they went out on missions. It was a common occurrence for soldiers to die and the remaining ones had to suck it up ad continue the fight. But Wrecker wasn’t used to this. From the very beginning, they were the four of them, surviving each mission thrown their way to fight another day. He never got attached to anyone out of his Batch but you and losing his first comrade in the field hit him hard. 

Sure, the death of 99 left him in crumbles but with you it was different. He was supposed to have your back just like you had his. You saved his life and he didn’t save yours. 

As his eyes fell to the ground in shame, he noticed a small object at the tip of his boot. 

“Tech.” He called, as he raised back up with your earbud in hand.

“So we can’t contact her, she can’t contact us, she’s unarmed and wounded.” Crosshair resumed the situation, your bloody bow, and quiver in hand. "If she's not dead, she'll be soon." 

"There's no way she'd run deeper into the jungle wounded and without her bow. It's suicide." Hunter tore his gaze from the large puddle at his feet to follow sparse dark spots staining the grass to their right. "It could be a new critter that doesn't kill right away or she found someone or something else to protect her." 

So there was a possibility that you weren't dead. Wrecker felt relieved that his brother came to that conclusion, his own mind was working in slow motion, too distressed at his feelings to allow him to concentrate and think. 

"Whatever it is, we'll find her." 

Even if the words weren't meant to reassure him, Wrecker felt more at ease knowing that they had a way to track you and that you were possibly safe with someone or something. All he hoped now was that you were alive long enough for them to find you and that ultimately, you'd forgive him. 

Wrecker rushed behind his brothers who followed the trail, jogging at a steady rhythm, slow enough to be able to detect the monsters that might target them but fast enough that they would catch up to you at some point. 

It didn't take long for the first Algax to cut their road, the shy creature poking its terrifying head from behind a large trunk as soon as it heard them approach.

Wrecker tensed, already gripping the handle of his blaster with his left hand despite the knowledge that his weapon was useless against them. Having his blaster in hand, even if it wasn't the right one, gave him a sense of security. 

The dark blue creature didn't have time to lift its hand to reach for them that an arrow flew right into the trunk next to its head. The beast hissed, its long fingers hitting the arrow in anger before moving out of its hiding spot to engage the group. 

"Damn thing." Crosshair growled, at the bow in his hand or at the beast, Wrecker didn't know. All he knew was that he almost cheered when his brother managed to scare the beast away with two arrows piercing its chest. 

"Nice work." Tech approved, light sticks in hand instead of his blasters. 

"You were right. It is primitive." Crosshair growled, following Hunter who resumed the tracking of your blood on the ground. 

"I'm always right." He chirped, eyes scanning the shadows. 

"Debatable." His brother scoffed back. 

"Wrecker." Hunter called from the front, eyes quickly darting forward when he caught his brother's eyes. "Let your blaster. Take your blade." 

"Okay." Against his best instinct, the clone let go of his DC-17, letting it fall on the jungle floor to grab his vibroblade in a firm grip. The blade felt weird in his left hand but it would do. Knives worked on those things, he was still safe. 

The surroundings were calm for a while, and the more time they spent no crossing path with any monster, the more the tension built between them. Apprehension kept them on their toes, eating away at their nerves slowly. 

The next Algax they encountered stood tall in their way like he was challenging them to jump at it. Maybe they were used to being at the top of the food chain, just like the clones were used to being at the top of their game. Regrettably, the clones were in way over their head on this planet but they would make sure that they weren't the only ones.

Instead of slowing down, Hunter charged at the Algax, stopping only when the sharp metal of his vibroblade was deeply set into the monster's chest. 

Wrecker waited for a screech, for the creature to start thrashing around or flee like the one that fell down a tree with you. Seconds passed and the Algax lifted its arms like nothing happened, like there wasn't a long knife jabbed in its thorax and made a move to grab the sergeant who swiftly jumped away, blade still in hand. 

"What?!" Hunter exclaimed, facing the creature once again. 

An arrow in the head managed to get the desired effect, the tall beast running away in its signature hiss. 

"Why didn't it work? Her knife worked on them!" Hunter was getting more and more on edge. 

"Maybe it could be because our technology is too advanced or because our equipment is not native." Tech remarked. "It is logical in a sense. This planet created its own rules to protect itself from invaders, so it may have created a sort of protection against anything exterior to its own resources."

"It is possible?" Wrecker found it quite hard to believe. A planet controlling what could kill or not? Blasters could kill anything!

"The planet changes beliefs in the real thing. Yeah I think it's possible." He deadpanned with an eye roll.

Suddenly, the vibroblade in Wrecker's hand didn't provide the same sense of security as before. All their hope resided in Crosshair and Tech's hands. 7 arrows and 3 light sticks. Talk about limited resources. If only he had his backpack containing all his explosives, he could get something done. 

Too deep in thought, Wrecker didn't notice the wall of dirt right in front of them until he almost rammed into it. They were back to their landmark. 

"We missed each other." Hunter growled in frustration at the sight of the blood splatters leaving the safety of the trees to disappear under the waterfall. 

Wrecker understood immediately, his own frustration building in his chest. They entered the jungle and you got out of it. Maker knew Wrecker was used to bad timing but this was a new low. Fate was laughing right in their faces. 

Cautiously, they left the dense vegetation to venture into the open area where Wrecker almost became bird food. His eyes were fixed in the open sky, some stars were visible through the small clouds. The bright moon wasn't at its highest yet, Wrecker estimated that there was another hour before the satellite reached its peak. 

The provided light allowed him to relax the muscles around his eyes. He hasn't been squinting for long that the beginning of a headache started to form in his skull. 

As they neared the wet dirt, three sets of footprints were easily distinguishable in the wet dirt. The spacing told them that none of you were running. If nothing was chasing you, then why weren't you patched up?

"We have to find her quick." Crosshair spat what every brother thought quietly. 

If you were with people that didn't patch you up and had plenty of time to do so then they weren't on your side. Even without medical supplies, they should have been able to stop the bleeding one way or the other.

"Stay close." Hunter called, venturing closer to the waterfall where your blood disappeared. 

With each step forward, the sound of the waterfall hitting the river below became more and more deafening. The sound was assaulting his ears to a point where he almost ripped his helmet off to cover his ears. He managed to hold on, focussing instead on his leader who clearly had more problems than him. 

Hunter had removed his own helmet to pass it on to Tech in hope of covering some of the uproars with his hands. The relief must not have been enough for his arms began to shake, his hands pushing firmly against the sides of his head.  

If only he could reach for his brother and take some of his pain, Wrecker would do it in a heartbeat. 

"Let's make this quick." Crosshair took the front, his steps taking him behind the waterfall where a tin border of rocks formed a path to the other side.

Tech nodded his head towards Hunter, his hands already full with the sticks and the extra helmet. 

"Got him." Wrecker confirmed. His left hand reached for his brother's pauldron right after sheathing his blade. 

With practiced movements, Wrecker bent to carefully set his pain down, now wasn't the time to listen to his body. 

With slow steps the tank walked on the wet trail of rocks behind the roaring wall of water, his arm tightening slightly around the body on his shoulder. If Hunter reacted Wrecker couldn't hear it. 

The rocks were flat enough that he didn't slip once. The problem appeared on the other side, where the blood trail ended abruptly a couple of feet away from the bank.

"Where to now?" Wrecker asked, still supporting his limp brother. 

"No fucking idea." Crosshair grumbled, visor moving from right to left where the jungle extended as far as his eyes could see in both directions.

Hunter's feet returned to the ground when soft pats disturbed the tall clone carrying him, his hands were at his sides, fingers clenched into fists as he grounded himself through deep breaths. 

"Are you okay?" Wrecker dared to ask, his worry for his family finally escaping him. 

Hunter usually took more time to recover from an overwhelming episode like this one and it was apparent that he still needed time, but he opened his eyes nonetheless, ignoring Wrecker's question to grip onto Tech for support and deeply breathe in, brows furrowed in concentration. 

His head turned in a different direction as the three remaining clones scrutinized the line of trees for signs of a threat. 

"It's faint." Hunter whispered, still deep within himself. "Blood. That way." He pointed at their right before reaching for his helmet in the engineer's hands. 

"You're good to walk?" Tech questioned, watching his C.O. warily. His hands lifted slightly in apprehension that Hunter may faint under the pressure he was forcing on his body.

"Yes." It was weak but firm, leaving no place for discussion, not that either of them would have said anything. They knew what you meant to the sergeant so it was better for their sakes to not put themselves between you and him. 

Back in position, clone force 99 advanced through the trees, their pace building at each passing second. They were almost running when finally they stopped, their boots almost slipping under them in a sticky substance. 

"Karkin' fuck." Hunter cursed, his hands tightening around his vibroblade, eyes glued to the corpse lying at their feet. 

"That was you smelled?" Crosshair pushed the eviscerated loth wolf with the tip of his foot. 

"Ye-"

Screams resonated in the distance, cutting Hunter off. Wrecker's heartbeat loudly in his ears, almost covering the yells of pain under its incessant percussion against his ribcage.

Every single one of the soldiers breathed out in relief at the lack of a female scream. However, they tensed in apprehension as the screams faded and howls filled the air in their place. A new beast was around and they didn't have any idea of how to react to it. Run? Hide? Would the knife work this time? Or the bow? 

"There were two distinct voices. Males." Tech stopped his recon of the surroundings to catch his batch's eyes. "Maybe it's them." 

"Worth a shot." Hunter nodded, already moving in the direction of the screams, although this time he kept a slower pace, fully conscious that they were in unknown territory, charging at unknown beasts. 

The screams weren't too far, but they obviously came from the opposite direction Hunter initially pointed them to. Hopefully, they would find you there, wounded but alive, and he wouldn't beat himself too much for his mistake. 

Despite knowing that they were useless, Wrecker retrieved his vibroblade from its sheath. The need for a weapon in his hand was too great to ignore, every cell of his being felt the danger ahead and wanted to be prepared although he could never really be prepared for anything this planet threw at him. 

He cringed every time a twig broke under his boots, the soft sound resonating in his own ears like the grenades he liked to throw on the battlefield, resonating into the silent jungle to scream their position at anything that dared to listen. Maybe it was paranoïa slowly creeping its way into his brain, using the aftereffect of the corrupted hallucinations he suffered to play around with his senses. 

Just like right now, the more he concentrated to decipher the shadows with his half working helmet, the more strange the forms became. At first, it was spots from his constant squinting, then he saw small blue lights on the horizon, dancing haphazardly around. After a couple of blinks, the pale lights disappeared as fast as they arrived, leading the bald clone to shrug them off as his eyes playing tricks on him. The constant stress was definitely getting a toll on him, and let’s not talk about the two dives into a strong current. Once this night was over and they get back at the Marauder, he’ll sleep for two weeks straight. 

Softs whines could be heard over unnerving growls and occasional barks, quickly catching the group’s attention. 

“Blood.” Hunter informed them over comm, his whisper almost blending with the rustles of leaves in front of them. 

The group halted in their tracks as Hunter raised his fist, Crosshair already had the bow cranked, ready to shoot at whatever alerted their leader. Carefully peeking over Tech’s shoulder, Wrecker craned his neck to the side to see what was happening around the boulder they used as cover.

He could see the posterior of a large animal, jerking successively like it was pulling at something. Disturbing yelps filled the air and the animal fell backward with its prize tightly encased between its teeth. It rolled near their position but was too preoccupied with the bloody arm in its possession to detect the clones observing it. 

Wrecker knew Tech was recording, there was no way he wasn’t. Not when the monster before them had no skin whatsoever to cover its bones. The canine-like monstrosity easily reached Tech’s waist, had no external skin, leaving its bones to shine under the green tint of their night vision, muscles were observable between the ribs and along the joints, but that was it. No skin. 

"If only we could capture one." He muttered to which Hunter answered with a glare under his helmet. 

As it ate, Tech’s appreciative whispers filled the comm, muttering about the extra smaller ribs that circled the abdomen of the monster, keeping its intestines from falling all over the ground and marveling about the movement of each muscle, totally bare for his curious eyes to see and analyze at will. 

"Fine fine. We won't be getting one of those perfect study specimens." He grumbled, reporting his gaze to the organism that crunched the humerus with only moderate difficulty. "Fascinating." 

"No, it's not." Crosshair elbowed Hunter who redirected his gaze to a hollow tree where a figure was shivering, hidden in the darkness. 

"That's her." He confirmed, the sniper's impeccable sight was not to be doubted.

"Why aren't they attacking her?" Wrecker questioned, puzzled. 

Two other beasts were walking only steps away from your poor hiding spot, ignoring you totally despite acknowledging your presence with occasional glances towards you.

"I have some theories but they are all shots in the dark." Tech answered when he realized that they were all waiting for his highlights. 

"That's just perfect." Crosshair growled. 

The tall clone counted 4 of them, walking between two bodies to tear at the flesh and stain their white skulls with fresh blood. 

He wondered if his brute strength would be enough to smash their bones if needed when he noticed you slowly standing up, hands behind your body to steady yourself against the trunk. 

"Maybe she could come here instead of us going there." Wrecker pointed out. If only he could catch your attention without catching theirs. "Tech. Do you still have your laser?" 

The toy they kept around to annoy Crosshair whenever he was too relaxed on leave could be more useful than its original purpose.

Wrecker was amazed at how unafraid of the canines you were, standing next to one of them to pull at the bow on one of the beheaded corpses with your foot.

"Good idea." Tech walked to the other side of the rock where he could have a clear view of your limping form, slowly making your way toward one of the dead bodies. 

"She's tied up." Remarked Hunter, his voice merely above a whisper but frightening nonetheless. Your aggressors should be glad that the dogs got them first.

Crosshair had the creature in his aim, an arrow already pointed at its head if it dared to make a move in your direction. 

At one point the bow got stuck, the snapping mouth of the monster next to you was deeply buried into the open chest of what once was a man, blocking your progression toward the shoulders.

Wrecker's breath blocked in his throat and Crosshair cursed under his breath as they saw you tentatively poke the skull of the monster with a very shaky foot before almost falling on your ass with a muffled yelp at how quickly you moved it back when the big bony dog jerked its head up to look at you. 

Your wide eyes stared back at it until it lost interest and moved further down the body to nib at some abdominal organs. Quickly you pulled out the bow with your foot, head tilted down to your chest to look at your work.

Tech used this moment to point the red laser at your chest, immediately catching your attention by moving it from side to side. Wrecker grinned as your head lifted in their direction, eyes wide in surprise. You spotted them in seconds, maybe because Wrecker was waving. 

Words were muffled by the rope around your mouth, but the wild shaking of your head was clear. Even with only a half functioning helmet, Wrecker could read the fear in your gaze. 

Tech couldn't close the light fast enough. One skull turned at the source of the small brightness. As soon as it spotted them, earsplitting yaps covered the snarls of the feasting animals, catching the pack’s attention simultaneously. Soon 4 pairs of predatory red eyes stared at them, their maws chattering in anticipation.

[singeramg]

Finding Forever: Chapter 4

Pairing: Henry Cavill/ OFC

Rating: E OR M however you want to say it 

Warnings (: Dom! Henry, Sub OFC, Smut, Some Angst, Oral, female receiving, Unprotected sex, (Don’t be silly, wrap your willies people) 

A/n: Sooooo it wasn’t that slow of a burn. I think four chapters is good enough to start the smut lol

Catch up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 

In honor of Henry being a cheeky boy this morning, here is this gif and the story...

The ride back to the hotel was quiet as I regretted my hasty words. I knew I had effectively ensured Henry would dislike me if not right out hate me. Not to mention Mia would always feel some type of way about me if she and Henry decided to give it a go. I knew she wouldn’t outright cut me out for him because we had been through too much together for that to happen, but that didn’t mean I wanted my friend to look at me differently because of this. All because of my stupid inability to keep my mouth shut and my emotions down. 

I trudged up to my hotel room, flinging my shoes off and adding the chain to my room door. I headed to my bathroom, shuddering at the reflection in the mirror. Her ponytail was loose, her eyes red, eye shadow smudged and  looking downright tired. In short I looked a mess. 

I turned on my shower, grateful for the warmth of it falling on my skin. I stayed in far too long contemplating on how I would face the two of them tomorrow. I could fain a hangover but that wouldn’t save me from Mia and honestly she would figure it out that I was faking it. Frustrated, I cut off the shower and got out, pulling on a pair of grey spandex type shorts that had outgrown being appropriate to be worn in public and comfortable enough to sleep in, along with a thin black cami that had the words “killin’ it” written on the front in white. Pulling a black almost floor length on, I had made the decision to deal with everything  head-on tomorrow. As much as it would kill me, I was going to have to apologize to Henry. I told or at the very best implied something that he asked me about in confidence. I knew how that felt, as I had former friends other than Mia that I thought I could trust and they turned to use those secrets against me. I was a shitty person to do that to him. I cut on the TV in my bedroom for more background noise than anything and went out to the front of my suite to grab a bottle of water. 

I hadn’t bothered to cut on any lights as this was a quick trip over to the desk where I had been leaving my bottled drinks.

 “You know this hotel should really invest in better chains for their doors. I was able to slide that out of its place with a comb.”

 Is familiar accented voice said and I yelped, jumping a foot in the air, before trying to find a weapon in the darkness. The lamp near a red and gold accent chair cut on to reveal Henry sitting there looking as calm as ever, however I was the one freaking out. 

 “Holy shit Henry, you almost gave me a damn heart attack! What in the fuck? How did you get in here?”

 He gave a small smirk, holding up a rattail comb with the metal end. 

 “I told you with a comb. More specifically Mia brought me this comb and her copy of your room key, when I called to tell her I couldn’t reach you.”

 My eyes narrowed at the mention of Mia and while I winced on the inside, the outside showed no change. I crossed my arms across my chest, jutting a hip out.

 “You do realize there is thing called knocking. How it works is you tap from the outside, I hear it on the inside and decide if I want to let you in.”

He chuckled.

 “I knocked. You didn’t answer so I got to thinking maybe I could wait for you to come back to your room. I realized you were in the shower so I waited. I thought I was going to have to rescue you considering how long you were in there.”

 “It’s my room I can stay in the shower as long as I want. Now what I want is for you to leave.”

 I pointed a thumb toward the door. His response was to lean forward, elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together in front of him. I noticed the worry lines across his forehead.

 “You make everything so hard.” 

 “The only thing hard about this is you still sitting here.”

 He stood abruptly crossing the room quickly with his long legs. He was in front of me before I could retreat away. 

 “No. What is hard is that you are so fucking hard headed. I came to talk to you, sort this whole thing out like rational adults.”

 “Look Henry. I apologize for outing you to Mia like I did. I know that was messed up...”

 “Stop. Where did you get this idea that I was interested in Mia?”

 I stepped backwards again trying to put more distance from being able to smell his cologne. He wouldn’t allow it as he stepped forward again.

“What are you talking about? Henry you literally asked me if she was single.”

He began to laugh, affronted,  I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“What is so funny?”

 “Aura darling, there has been a major misunderstanding. I am not interested in Mia, not now, not ever.”

 I somehow let a breath of relief that I didn’t know I was holding. Embarrassed, I didn't want to deal with this right now.

“Whaa... But... I can’t do this with you tonight. Get out.”

I shook my head and moving backwards. Henry looked at me, incredulous  then his eyes narrowed slightly and seemingly got darker. 

 “No I don’t think I will.”

 “It wasn’t a request Henry...”

 “Not a request... Do you want to know the true reason I asked that question about Mia?”

 He moved closer and this time I didn’t move. Something about his gaze kept me pinned in place. I didn’t say anything either which also wasn’t like me when I was pissed, as evidenced by my little club outburst earlier. I nodded my head, noticing that my throat was now dry.

Close enough to me now, Henry reaches up brushing some of the wayward hair away from my face pushing it back behind my ear. The action screamed gentle and soft, but his eyes said otherwise. 

“I prefer if you use your words when you address me.” He prompted. Intimated by the tone he spoke in coupled with his actions I looked at him and spoke.

 “Yes go ahead and tell me.” Fake bravado won out in the end.

 “I asked about Mia because Jay, who is one of cameramen for the movie really wants to get to know her. While Mia is certainly pretty, she is not who I am interested in.”

 “So you are interested in someone just not here. Oh my bad, hopefully I didn’t mess anything with whoever you actually like.” 

 I couldn’t tamper down on the attitude, trying to keep a wall up between us to help save face. I began to walk away, but Henry only let me get but so far, then he ended up catching me by the waist. His grip was sure, but not painful. 

 “I am interested in someone who is currently acting like a brat because she can’t take a hint. I tried the subtle thing with you Aura because I didn’t want to scare you off. You however are stubborn.”

 His right hand came up to my face, grasping my chin to make me stare him directly in the eyes. My hazel crossing with his blue and I couldn’t look away.

  “Let me be clear, the only one I have an interest in is you.”

 White noise rang out in my ears as I felt my breath hitch in my throat again. As the tension in the room was about to boil over.

“Me?”

 “Yes you Aura.” 

 Slowly I moved in and he moved in until our lips met, the kiss ignited a fire in me as I pressed myself flush against him and both of his hands drifted down the side of my body landing on my hips and making sure I could feel how he had hardened against my stomach. I slid my hands up his torso, linking around his neck. I was breathless by the time he pulled back, a smug look on his face, lips redder than normal from our kissing. 

 “I have been wanting to do that since I met you. It was not a disappointment.”

 “Is that all you have been wanting to do since you met me?”

 I questioned with a mischievous grin. I’m response he raised an eyebrow.

 “Oh no actually I have been thinking about just how good you are going to look after you’ve cum 5 times...”

 That was it. I felt a rush of wetness leave my body as I tried to clench my thighs together. Henry noticed and his gaze was intense as he didn’t break eye contact, which could be unnerving but it wasn’t as much as it should have been for me. I untied the black robe in the front and let it fall to the floor, well aware of my lack of bra and tight shorts that clung to me. 

 “You talk a good game, but can you back it up Cavill?”

 I turned and walked toward the bedroom. I didn’t even check to make sure he was following because I knew he would be. I walked in turning the dimmer on in the room so it was a soft glow, but not pitch black like hotel rooms could be. I guess my stop to mess with the dimmer was all the time Henry needed to catch up to me because he was in the door quicker than I had only taken 4 steps, grabbing my hips again, stopping my forward motion. 

 “It’s sir to you Aura and where do you think you are you going?” He questions.

 “Umm to the bed?”

 “Did I tell you to get in the bed yet?” He questioned his hands grazing under the edge of my shirt, drawing small circles with his fingers. His breath warm against my right ear. 

 “No but I’d imagine if we are going to do this, we need to be in the bed.”  I snarked to him. All that earned me was a sharp slap on my ass. I yelped in surprise as I heard Henry give a chuckle.

 “Ouch. That hurt.” 

 “ You’ve earned a lot more than that one, but if you’re a good girl for me. I’ll suspend your punishment.”

 I bit my bottom lip in anticipation.

 “What if want to be bad?”

He laughed again.

 “Trust me baby girl. You will want to be a good girl for me.” 

 With those words, I turned around to face him again, and instead of standing there so I could kiss him as planned he walked over to the bed. Sitting on the edge of it, he looked at me and beckoned me closer. I smirked.

 “You just want to be in control so bad don’t you.”

 “And you want to give it up so bad. I sensed it in you from the moment we met. So why don’t you let me Aura?” I find myself nodding.

 “Give me a safe word.”

 “Raggamuffin?”

 I say with a smirk. He returns it back then agrees. 

Henry reaches up, gasping my neck lightly again, then down into a kiss. His hands slid down until the reach the hem of my shirt, then breaking the kiss, pulling it over my head. Bare from the waist up, Henry makes my face feel warm, as my body is under his direct gaze. He strips my shorts and panties off in one smooth pull. He breathes in deeply, as I  try to anticipate what he will do next, my legs still trembling slightly as his hands run from the back of my knees to my ass. 

 “You smell absolutely delicious.”

 I began unbuttoning his shirt, wanting nothing more than to see it on the floor. He helped me get it off then began kissing my stomach, his lips drifting lower and lower around my bikini lines, but never where I wanted his lips to go.

 “Your legs are shaking darling. I think you should sit on the best seat in the house.” 

 He slaps my ass again, but this time not as hard. I moved backward, as Henry moves backward resting his head on the pillow, then beckoning me up there to him. I did as he asked, crawling up his body, feeling his jeans brush against my bare skin, then the thick, dark chest hair.The sensation dynamic played a role in the power imbalance, and I was loving it. I was headed for the button on his jeans, when he spoke.

 “The seat I want you on is up here.”

 I had to be dripping by now, he kisses me one more time and I pulled myself to hover above his full lips. His hands glide up my thighs, then  he kisses both of them stupidly close to my sex but doesn’t touch it. I could feel his breath against me and it frustrated me further, but his strength kept me held up. 

“Please Henry”

 I whispered. He squeezes my thighs just enough to sting and make me whimper. 

“ What did I tell you to call me?” 

 My fuzzy mind struggled to come up with the answer but I soon found it.

 “Sir please. Please touch me.”

 Finally his tongue sticks out and touches me. I lower slightly and he actually allowed me to move. I gripped the grey hotel headboard as best as I could. He started drawing what seemed to be random patterns. I wanted to grind down against his face and take my pleasure but he was having none of that. He stopped for a second.

 “Let’s play a game. Let’s see if you can guess the letters I am spelling out. You get them right, I’ll keep going. Get them wrong and I’ll stop.”

 I whimpered not wanting him to stop. He chuckled, the vibrations traveling directly into my core. Then he went back but this time it took every ounce of my collective concentration to even guess at the first letter.

 “Umm...shit.... it’s a H.”

 He didn’t respond but kept moving. When he swirled his tongue around my clit in an unrecognizable letter my mind went blank until he suddenly stopped. 

 “What is the letter baby?”

 “I..I  don’t know.”

 “ You ready for the game to be over already?” He asked me with a chuckle, which sent the vibration directly into my center. I bit my lips and then whispering quickly,

 “No please don’t stop.”

 He does the pattern again.

“W!”

 “Good girl”

 He moves on me getting the remaining letters of D, and C. His initials. He thought I wouldn’t notice but I did... somehow. He moved on with me guessing the spelling for Daddy and Sir correctly.

He finally took mercy and sucked the bud he had been torturing for the better part of 20 minutes. Crying and convulsing I came, head tossed backward. 

Sensitive, I tried to pull away, but actually wrapped his hands around the outside of my thighs, pulling me fully seated, forcing me to accept his tongue inside of my body until sensitivity became pleasure again.

 “Fuck Fuck Fuck!”

 He let go of one thigh to move his hand up where he rubbed my clit again combined with licking and sucking until I came again.

Coming down from the high, I gasped for my breath, finally being allowed to move off of his face, I dropped to the bed next to him, feeling my eyes begin to drop closed after a few moments but Henry was not with that. He climbs over me, pulling me into a kiss, waiting until I was engaged again before pulling off to get out of the bed. Just as I was about to ask him where he was going but he only took two steps back, sliding his jeans down, finally revealing himself to me. The pictures online of him in tailored trousers had done him no justice and that was saying something. 

 “See something you like?”

 “I’m waiting to find out if I like it or not.”

 I couldn’t turn the snark off if I wanted to. I think I was testing him on purpose. At the look he shot me I knew he was going to make me regret that.

 “Keep testing my patience and you won’t. Turn over.”

 I tried to comply but the second Henry thought I was too slow he moved me quicker, positioning me on my hands and knees. 

 “Do you remember what I told you at the beginning of this?” He asked caressing the soft flesh of my ass.

 “Umm...”

“About you being a good girl.”

 “You would suspend my punishment.” His fingers grazed the strip between my legs, lustful again already. 

 “Now do you think you’ve been good?” 

 I shook my head, my bold nature leaving just as quickly as it had come. Then I felt his large hand come down on my ass again. I yelped.

 “Henry!” He did it again.

 “You keep adding to your punishment and we haven’t even started it yet.”

 “What was that for?”

 “You keep breaking my rules.”

 “What rules?”

 I was confused slightly, he rubbed my ass.

 “You should be using your voice to answer my questions AND you address me as Sir.”

 “What if I don’t want to call you sir?”

 “You don’t have a choice. Either you do it or you safeword out and not to be a shitty person love but if you can’t handle calling me sir, you certainly can’t handle what else I have in mind. You may want to tap out now.”

 I turned around, looking over my shoulder.

 “You think I’m a quitter...sir.”

I raised my eyebrow as I looked at Henry whose arms were crossed over his chest. He looked at me for a moment, resolved he motioned with his finger for me to face the opposite wall again.

 “Alright little miss “I’m not a quitter”, just don’t forget your safeword. Now I’ll be nice tonight, you get 10 total. 5 for not coming to talk to me when you have a problem and 5 for being a brat. Count them. You mess up, I start over.”

 And with that he hand came down across one cheek, the force matched the others he had given me.

 “One.”

 *SLAP*

 “Two”

 *SMACK*

He moved to an opposite cheek for three and also increased the force a little, but this time he rubbed the spot, kneading the flesh of my cheeks.

 “Four, Five”

They were in quick succession and harder. I thought this would be a turn off but he was proving me wrong. 

 “Six!”

 I yelped, the sting leading to wetness gathering between my legs even more. 

 “Seven!” 

 Henry noticed when my arousal starts to run on my legs, and I thought I heard him groan before sliding his fingers through it. I can feel myself struggling to stay in the position he put me in. 

 “Eight!” I cry, the pain having gave way to pleasure somewhere around smack 6.

 “N...nine.” 

*Smack*

 “Ten!!!”

I say as he gives me the hardest spank of the night followed by an immediate plunging of a finger into my core. 

 “You are so wet baby. I think you might have enjoyed your punishment too much.”

 His fingers moved in and out of me for a moment, but pulling away, leaving me whimpering. Henry immediately moves me onto my back, and yanks me to the edge of the bed, pulling my legs apart like a pair of pliers, they fan to either side of his hips. 

 “You took your punishment so well. I think it time for a reward.”

 He rubs his hardened cock in my folds collecting some of the wetness that gathered there, then slid into me. Henry was surprisingly gentle in this, taking his time, letting me adjust. His own eyes closed. From the angle we were in with him still standing I couldn’t reach him to touch him. 

“Damn Aura. You are tight been waiting for me all this time have you.”

 “Mmm...yes” I moan out, distracted the pulsating of his cock inside of me. He was thick and long, I could feel myself flutter around him. He held still for a moment and I got impatient, moving myself against him slightly as a signal to move.Henry seemed to have gotten the hint, because he began to rock, moving himself in and out slowly. Torturing me with his deliberate strokes. I tightened my legs around his hips, trying to move into him. He took this as a challenge or at the very least motivation, tilting his chest down to mine, changing his angle just enough that he deepened, hitting a new spot that had not been reached before. 

Henry leans down, strong arms on either side of my face pressing his lips to my body, peppering small kisses across my chest and neck, my nails to his back. 

“Fuck, harder.”

 “Oh darling where are your manners?”

 He said teasingly,slowing down, drawing back until he was almost all the way out, leaving only the tip in then froze. I wiggled my hips, but Henry just moved one of his hands to my hips, stopping the movement. Frustrated, I groaned, looking down at where we were connected, but no movement. 

 “Please sir, please fuck me harder.”

 Not much warning before he slammed back in, taking my breath away when he did. A polar opposite to how this began, his strokes deep enough that I could feel them in my stomach. Me making whimpering sounds, my breasts moving with the force of him, and honestly it had moved me up the bed some from where I had been on the edge. I truly couldn’t tell if I was running from him or not, but it all for damn anyway because  It seemed the word sir activated the primal part of him, as he leaned back, sliding out, and having made just enough room for his knees to be on the bed, grabbed the back of my knees, folded me up like a pretzel and went back inside. 

I knew I had to be yelling, but I couldn’t tell you what I was saying, it was all hazy jibberish to me, all I could really feel was the pleasure rising inside of me, my walls clenching around him, building. He was giving me those deep strokes, you know the ones that made your eyes roll into the back of your head, your stomach tighten, and you feel the full weight of your partner body pressed against yours, his pelvic bone rubbing against your clit sinfully. I was damn close and I could feel it, Henry had been making noises of his own, manly grunts and hisses that added to my pleasure, knowing he was being satisfied by my body. 

At the feeling of my clenching, Henry, already close to my ear says

 “You hold it, you don’t get to cum until I tell you to.” 

 As one of his hands moves up the side of my body, until it latches onto my neck, tightening, adding just enough pressure that my orgasm doesn’t come, but instead keeps building and building as his hand tightens some more to the point of black spots invading my vision. I could tell he was close and I was about to cum regardless of any commands. 

 “Cum for me baby. Cum all over my hard cock.”

 He said, his words snapping and invisible tether inside of me that caused a shout and a physical body shaking as I came all over us my wetness covering his thighs. My orgasm lasting longer than it ever had, especially as Henry let’s go of my neck and his thrusts become faltered, his hips stutter and freeze as I feel him coat my insides with his seed. 

 “Aura!”

 Both of us breathe heavy as he stays inside of me for a moment, the with a groan, he slowly rolls out of me. Then after a beat of silence he gets up from the bed, my body too exhausted to move much. Henry comes back in a few moments with a small washcloth and  bottles of water. To which he hands me the water but not the towel, instead using it to wipe my center clean of his essence, tossing it aside and then demolished his water bottle. 

 “Thank You for taking care of me...sir.”

 I said attempting not to stumble of calling him sir when he wasn’t blowing my back out. Then  somehow I found the energy to move, moving from my position from laying sideways to lay the correct direction on the bed and get under the covers, sliding over once under to make room for Henry. He follows suit, getting into bed next to me, and in a surprising move pulls me into his arms. 

I hadn’t pegged him for an after-sex cuddl-er especially after the type of sex we just had where he seemed to be all hard edges and tough words. I half expected him to redress and leave, so when he didn’t I kept my surprise quiet and relaxed at his side, tossing a leg over his and my arm over his abs, head on chest, with his arm drawing random swirl patterns on my skin. Yawning, as my adrenaline came down, I snuggled into his warmth, content to lay with him for however long he would lay here. We didn’t talk, we didn’t need to, my breathing begins to even out as I fall asleep 

 “You know Aura, I could take care of you forever if you let me...”

 Henry says trailing off, I was too close to sleep to respond, letting his words send me into the land of satisfied and content sleep....

A/N:

Alright y'all tell me what you think! I had loads of fun writing this, maybe i’ll do some Headcannons....

[saventhhaven]

Unexpected - Part 2

Pairing: none

Tags: violence, blood, helpless!reader

Word Count: 2,055

A/N: it took me a lot longer to get the second part to this written, but here it is!

Unexpected - Part 1

(Gif not mine)

Admiring your handiwork triumphantly, you slid the newly-installed chain to your front door shut. It wasn't a burglar alarm, that was for sure, but it did make you feel a bit more at ease, which was really all you could hope for. The ideal solution would have been to install a security system, but you just didn't have that kind of money. It had been just under a week since the break-in, and unfortunately, your anxious mindset hadn't improved much. If anything, it kept getting worse every time you relived your conversation with Sam and Dean. Monsters. Demons. There was no way. If those two men really thought all that crap was real, there was something seriously wrong with them. Sighing, you plopped down on your living room couch. Why couldn't you get these boys out of your head? You would give anything to forget the whole ordeal. Still... the sincerity of their explanation left you wondering if what they said was true. You shook your head vigorously, scolding yourself. All of your life, you had never been the type to believe in that sort of thing. Why on earth would you start now? Just because two maniacs started spouting it off to scare you? No way.

When your front door's doorknob began to turn, you practically leaped off the couch. Oh God, it was them. Sam and Dean. You knew too much, and now they were back to finish the job. Your heart rate skyrocketed as your door opened, but it was caught by the chain, and someone rammed straight into it.

"Ow! What the hell? Y/N?" You recognized the voice right away and scrambled over to peek through the small crack.

"Jamie?" Sure enough, standing on your front porch in the darkness was your best friend. The two of you had known each other for as long as you could remember, and you were about as close as friends could get. Shutting the door, you unlatched the chain to let him in. "I didn't know you were coming over tonight." Jamie held up his phone to show you his outgoing call log.

"Well, maybe if you had answered my calls..." He let the open-ended statement hang in the air, watching as you locked and chained the door behind him. He sighed and gestured to the new hardware. "You put that up today?" You nodded.

"Literally just finished, actually." Jamie gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder with a smile. He had been the first person you called after you kicked crazies one and two out of your home, and he knew how much it had rattled you. He flopped onto your couch with levels of drama that only he could achieve.

"Remind me again: why didn't you just call the cops?" You rolled your eyes as you opened your mouth to speak, but realized you didn't have a good answer. "Those wackjobs could be in a cell right now instead of running free. I swear, Y/N, you're too nice for your own good." You really should've called the cops. Hell, maybe it still wasn't a bad idea to file a report.

"I don't know," you answered lamely. What good would it do now? If those two lunatics had any brains at all, they would have skipped town already. Shaking your head, you padded into your kitchen. "I was just about to put a frozen pizza in the oven or something. You staying?"

"Yeah, I think so," you heard him call from the living room. Jamie's visits usually stretched late into the night, and you were more than happy to have the company. Although you had done your best to secure your home, being here alone made you nervous. Door chains weren't 100% intruder-proof, and you knew that, but you were trying not to think about it.

"Hey, I'm gonna grab a beer, do you-" When you reemerged from the fridge with two beers in hand, you noticed how close Jamie was standing, and the odd expression on his face as he stared at you. "Jesus!" you exclaimed. "You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were on the couch."

"I think I will take that beer." He took the glass bottle from your hand with a smile that, for some reason, made your skin crawl. It didn't quite meet his eyes, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. You opened the freezer door to get a pizza, feeling a bit more on edge than usual, which was saying something, considering all you had been through in the past week.

"How was work?" you tossed the question over your shoulder even though you were pretty sure you already knew the answer. Jamie worked a corporate desk job, which meant that every day was usually the same for him. 

As you leaned in to see what your freezer had to offer something whizzed by your ear, shattering on the cabinets behind you into a million pieces. Glass shards tinkled to the ground, and the smell of beer filled the air. Whirling around in alarm, you realized that Jamie was no longer holding his beer bottle, but that he had thrown it at you. Had you not put your head in the freezer when you did... you really didn't want to think about what could have happened. 

"What the hell, Jamie?" you snapped. "What is wrong with you? You could have killed me!" For the first time in your life, you were afraid of him. Your gut was right - something was horribly wrong. It was almost like... When the word entered your mind, you felt a panic bubble up in his throat. Possessed. Instantly, the faces of the two crazy men from the break-in came into your thoughts, and you swallowed hard. "Jamie?" His name left your mouth cautiously as you peered up at him, trying to make any sense of this. Jamie blinked, and his eyes turned to pure black as a malicious smile spread across his face.

"Sorry," he replied. "No." Holy fuck. When Jamie - or whatever the hell this thing was - lunged at you, you screamed. Loudly. Hopefully, one of the neighbors heard you; otherwise, you were toast. And not the good kind. Somehow, you managed to duck under his arm and make a break for the door. Had you not been overcome by terror, you would have appreciated the irony of it all. The very chain you had just installed to keep intruders out now kept you inside, where your life very well may depend on you getting out.

Just before you could reach the door, you were pushed down from behind, knocking the wind out of you as your attacker pulled you back by your ankles. You were screaming bloody murder when he turned you onto your back, slamming you down hard enough to rattle the floorboards.

"Jamie can't come to the phone right now." Hearing Jamie's voice say these things was maybe the most jarring thing about the whole situation. Scratch that, the most jarring thing was definitely the fact that you might die. You were totally trapped. The weight of Jamie's body pinned you down, and your hands were restrained on either side of your head. The chances that someone was coming to help you were very slim, and you could feel that you were running out of time.

"You're a demon," you guessed, hoping you could stall until something about your dire situation changed. Jamie's features lifted a bit in surprise.

"My, my. Not as clueless as we look, are we?"

"I sure as hell knew better than to think you were Jamie, you son of a bitch." The demon growled angrily, and you knew right away that you had made a mistake. Grabbing you roughly by the shoulders, he pulled you up before slamming you back down again. This time, your head made contact, and you saw stars. The demon's eyes glinted maliciously.

"See, that's where you're wrong," he hissed. "You thought I was your Jamie when I first came in." Before you could respond, the demon struck you across the face hard, causing you to let out a cry. "He has so many fond memories of you in here," he informed you, tapping his temple. "I wonder how difficult it would be to break him. Surely, killing you would be a good start, don't you think?" When his fist came at your face, you barely had time to recover before he came at you again, striking blow after blow. By the time he was finished, blood and tears mingled on your swollen face, and your mind lingered somewhere in the purgatory between consciousness and unconsciousness.

"Hm. I expected you to put up quite the fight. What a pity." As the demon raised Jamie's fist to hit you again, your front door flew open with a bang, and the chunk of the wall where you had screwed in the door chain's anchor went flying. So much for increased security.

"Get off of her!" The gruff voice sounded familiar, but you couldn't quite place it in this state. Heavy footsteps pounded on the floor toward you, and suddenly the weight holding you down was gone as you lost consciousness.

"You're okay, I got you." Someone lifted you into a sitting position, helping you come back to your senses. Head pounding, you blinked a few times, still feeling a bit woozy. "You really got the worst of that," the familiar voice continued. That was for damn certain. You felt like you had been run over by a truck. "You with me?" The familiar face in front of you finally registered, and you smiled weakly.

"You were definitely right about demons." Relief eased Sam's serious expression, and he rocked back onto his heels, crouched in front of you. You never thought you would be thinking this, but damn, it was good to see him. Now that you knew he wasn't, in fact, a home invader, it was good to know that you were in the hands of someone who knew what the hell was going on. If demons were actually real, that meant everything else was, too. "This is insane," you breathed.

"Insane is kinda what we do," Sam admitted. Another round of head pounding hit you, and you groaned in pain.

"Yeah, you're gonna want to put some ice on that," Dean said wryly. As you stood, you took a look around your living room, which was still surprisingly intact. "Not every day you get your ass kicked like that." You shook your head.

"Jamie didn't-"As soon as you said his name, your eyes went wide, and your heart dropped into your stomach. "Jamie! Is he all right? Where is he?" Sam gestured to the couch, and you scrambled to your feet, rushing to Jamie's unconscious form. His eyes moved behind closed lids as you brushed the hair from his face, and took his hand.

"He should be fine now," Sam reassured. "He probably won't remember much, and he'll be confused when he wakes up." Fear lingered in the pit of your stomach as you were reminded of how the pair of pitch-black eyes gleamed back at you. You swallowed hard.

"And is the demon still..?" Dean shook his head at your open-ended question.

"No, we exorcised it. But that doesn't mean it's gone. It could have gone after anyone in this town that was unprotected." You weren't entirely sure what that meant, but you had a sneaking suspicion that neither you nor Jamie was safe. "Does that mean you're sticking around for a while?" you asked hopefully. Dean gave a nonchalant shrug in response.

"Probably." Jamie groaned from the couch as he began to stir, and you turned your attention back to him.

"We should probably get out of here," Sam recommended to his brother. "Before he wakes up."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "See you around, Y/N." As the two tall men headed for the front door, you looked up at them.

"Thank you. Seriously." And then they were gone as quickly as they came.

"Y/N?" Jamie stared up at you, blearily from the couch. "What the hell happened?" With a heavy sigh, you gave his arm a reassuring pat.

"Jamie, I have one hell of a story for you."

Thanks for reading!

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[ddixons-angel]

Fated: Season 1

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff)

A/N: I feel like this is a short-ish chapter but I really hope you guys like it, let me know if you think it’s too short? 

Chapter 5: 

A blaring car alarm can be heard all throughout the outskirts of Atlanta as Glenn makes his way back to the quarry camp. He excitedly drives his new red car back as a truck is following shortly behind him. The others left at the camp all gather to see what the alarm is and Glenn gets out of the car. He’s greeted by an annoyed Shane who shouts above the alarm to turn it off. 

“I don’t know how!” Glenn responds, also in a shout. 

Without another word, a member of their camp, Jim, pops open the hood of the car and cuts a wire of the car, silencing the alarm. Shane marches up to Glenn, shaking his head.

“Are you crazy, driving this thing back up here? This alarm could have attracted walkers from miles and you brought them straight back to us!” Shane lectures. 

Glenn cowers, “Sorry... but we really had no choice, we were surrounded and needed a distraction out of the city.” 

“If you were surrounded, how’d you get out?” Jim asks, curious.

“New guy.” Glenn simply answers.

As if on cue, the truck pulls up behind Glenn’s car and they file out of the truck. Andrea happily reuniting with Amy, and Morales with his own family. Jacqui watches with a smile on her face as she walks back to the camp, while T-Dog stands by the truck, not sure how to face Glenn. Rick gets out of the truck and towards the others.

“Dad... Dad!” Carl shouts as he recognizes his father and runs up to him, jumping into his arms. 

The others watch on as Lori and Carl are reunited with their long lost husband and father. Shane has a look of bewildered and hurt on his face compared to everyone else. Glenn looks around for Gloria and frowns when he doesn’t see her. He makes his way to the back of the truck.

“Gloria?” he calls out to her, expecting her to for some reason still be in the truck, he walks back to the camp when he doesn’t find her, “hey, has anyone seen my sister?”

Rick, Morales, Jacqui, and Andrea’s faces all change at his question, T-Dog had already told them what had happened back in the truck. 

“She’s back on the roof... with Merle.” T-Dog says, looking down in shame and regret. 

Glenn spins to look at him, “What? Y-you can’t be serious... come on, stop playing T’.” 

“I’m not... she insisted on stayin’... I’m sorry man.” T-Dog admits, still unable to look up at his friend.

Glenn stumbles backwards, his face drained of blood at the news,  “Y-you... left her? You left her?! How could you do that?! What the hell?! We are going back there, right now, and we’re getting her back.” 

He opens the door to his red car and is about to get in when Rick holds him back, “we can’t let you do that, Glenn.” 

Glenn angrily shoves him off, “Why the hell not?! That’s my sister we left back there! You got your family back, I gotta go back and get mine!” 

“Glenn, calm down.” Shane holds his hands out in front of him. 

“Do not tell me to calm down.” Glenn seethes in anger. 

Rick sighs, “look, I’m not saying we don’t go back to get her, but right now is not the time. With all the commotion we caused back there, with all that noise, it’s a suicide mission if we go back now.” 

“Rick’s right, if what you said about being surrounded is true, we’ll have to wait it out for a few hours at least before any of us go back out there to the city.” Shane says, backing up Rick.

T-Dog looks at Glenn finally and goes up to him, “I’m sorry, brother... I didn’t want to leave her back there, but she told me to get you back there with Daryl, bring back something to cut the cuffs because I’m an idiot and dropped the damn keys... I’m sorry.”

Glenn sighs in frustration and worry, tears of fear for Gloria’s life forming in his eyes, "We can’t go now, we can’t leave at night, what the hell do you want me to do?! Wait until morning to go get her?! That’s my baby sister!” Glenn yells, his hands holding his head. 

Shane goes up to Glenn and carefully puts his hand on his back, “Glenn, I know you’re worried about Gloria, but you know more than any of us how strong a woman she is, T-Dog said she’ll be there waiting for you and she will.” 

“I also locked the door from the inside with a padlock, the walkers can’t get to her.” T-Dog adds, hoping that it would prove to be some kind of comfort to Glenn.

Glenn lets out a deep breath as he tries to calm himself down, “Where’s Daryl?”

“He went out hunting, I heard that he might not come back until tomorrow morning.” Amy informs.

He groans in frustration at the news, “Are you serious?! Are we really going to wait for Daryl to come back to go get her?!”

“It’s what your sister wanted man...” T-Dog insists, “guess she didn’t want him to go alone to get Merle, that might be why she stayed.”

Glenn ponders, “Yeah... sounds exactly like her... We’re going to get them first thing in the morning when Daryl gets back.”

---

It’s already been a day that Gloria had been stuck on the roof with Merle. She has her back pressed on the ledge of the building, her hands covering her ears as Merle yaps away about his life story. Her eyes closed, trying to think of anything to distract her from the man who never seems to shut up. Gloria silently regrets having set up a makeshift shelter for Merle from pipes and a blanket she keeps in her bag, hoping to keep him protected from the heat of the harsh sun; she can’t have him delirious or suffering from heatstroke in case anything happens. Fortunately, Merle quiets down for a while as he had run out of his train of thought. Gloria sighs at this silence, she moves her hands from covering her ears. 

“Hey, you.” Merle calls out to her.

Rolling her eyes, she looks over at Merle, “What?” 

“Why’d ya stay?” he asks, seeming almost thankful she did. 

“Daryl is gonna come for your annoying ass but it’s dangerous for him to come alone. So I took it upon myself to force Glenn into coming back for us, it’s better they come together rather than Daryl coming alone.” Gloria explains, she does feel bad for making Glenn come back for her, but she also knows that Glenn has come to the city countless times whereas Daryl hasn’t stepped into the city once ever since the world ended, having Glenn guide him was his best shot of finding them quickly. 

Merle chuckles at her answer, “Sacrificing your brother for me, tha’s sweet.” 

“Trust me, I am not sacrificing anything for you. Daryl has a better chance of getting here safely with Glenn anyway, he has all the quickest routes plotted out, I just happened to make it so that he has to come help.” Gloria shrugs. 

Another short-lived moment of silence goes by between the two, groans of walkers can he heard echoing in the streets below. Gloria leans back, her head hitting the ledge gently as she rests there with her eyes closed.

“Ya wanna hear a story from when I was servin’ in juvie?” Merle drawls out. 

Not opening her eyes, Gloria responds, “You must really love the sound of your own voice... you never shut up for more than five mintues.” 

Merle scoffs at her remark but continues on with telling his story. He goes on and on for at least five minutes, getting louder as the story gets more elaborate and exaggerated. His storytime is interrupted by a loud banging on the door. Gloria opens her eyes at the sound and they both look at the entrance of the stairway, both of them hoping that it’s Glenn and Daryl coming to their rescue. Their hope is shattered when the door bursts open, only held by the chains and padlock Gloria and T-Dog had set up, and walkers try to claw their way onto the roof. 

“Shit!” Gloria gets up and sees that the chains don’t look like they’re going to hold up very long. 

Merle is frantically shouting and cursing loudly, trying to yank at the handcuffs, thinking that would actually do something. Gloria looks around and sees a toolbox with a hacksaw, she runs to it and grabs the hacksaw then tosses it over to Merle.

“Shut up and start cutting the chains!’ Gloria shouts at him.

She then dashes towards the door and tackles it, attempting to close the door. Gloria uses all her weight to push against the door but with the amount of walkers on the other side, she is easily overpowered. She spots a broken pipe on the ground and reaches for it, her body still leaning on the door trying to close it. Once she grabs the pipe, Gloria starts to kill off the walkers, stabbing and bashing at all of them peering through the door until she is able to push the door closed. Panting, she continues to lean on the door when Merle makes his way over to her. 

Gloria looks over to him and her eyes widen in horror at the blood all over his clothing and a stump where his right hand is supposed to be, “Merle... what the hell did you do...”

“Ya gave me the hacksaw... what’d ya expect me to do wit’ it?” Merle says, his breath panting and face pale. 

“I told you to cut the chains, not your damn hand!” Gloria sighs in frustration, “we gotta get you outta here, find something to stop the bleeding otherwise you’re gonna bleed out.” 

With the metal pipe in hand, Gloria goes to where she was sitting previously and grabs her backpack then goes to retrieve the blanket she’d made the makeshift shelter with and hands it to Merle as a temporary bandage. He winces as he wraps his stump with the blanket and looks to Gloria who’s waiting for him to be ready. He nods and then Gloria opens the door, ready for any walker that approaches. Gloria helps Merle as he stumbles down the stairs and they start rummaging the entire store for any bandages or gauze to stop his bleeding. They arrive at a kitchen and Gloria continues to rummage through cupboards and drawers.

“What the fuck, do they have no first aid or medical kits in this damn place?!” Gloria exclaims, annoyed that they haven’t found anything to help stop Merle’s bleeding. 

“No medical or first aid kits... but they got somethin’ that’ll do the trick.” Merle says from behind her.

Gloria turns around and sees Merle looking at a stove burner. She looks at him, shocked at what he’s insinuating and walks up to him. 

“I... I can try to help you cauterize your wound... but are you sure? It’s gonna hurt like hell.” Gloria grimaces just at the thought of it.

Pursing his lips together, he nods, “I’m all for pain!” 

Gloria lets out a breath and turns on the stove, then places an iron steak weight onto the flames. She glances at Merle who is just staring at the heating metal, fear evident in his eyes no matter how hard he tries to hide it. Gloria looks around and grabs a towel, folding it into four and holding it up to Merle’s mouth.

“Bite this, it’ll keep you from screaming out loud and calling walkers in here to kill us.” Gloria says, letting him play it off that he’s doing it for her and not that he’s afraid of the pain.

Merle bites onto the towel and the two wait a little longer for the metal to be hot enough. Once Gloria deems it ready, she holds out her hand and waits for Merle to give her his arm. Gently holding on his forearm, she guides it to the piping hot iron steak weight and gives him a look to make sure he’s ready for the pain. Merle nods, giving Gloria the cue to hold his stump to the metal. He wreathes and seethes in pain, biting down hard into the towel. Gloria’s hold on Merle’s arm is gentle but firm, she holds his arm in place for a few more moments, counting down the seconds she had learned back in school about how long it took to properly cauterize a wound. She slowly moves his arm away from the metal and lets go of him completely. 

“Are you alright?” Gloria looks at him, concerned at how pale he is.

Merle scoffs and waves his only hand at her, “never been better.”

Seeing that he’s still able to joke around, she concludes that he’s not dying any time soon. She goes around the kitchen to find more towels to wrap up Merle’s now cauterized stump to prevent it from getting an infection before they get back to their camp. Merle wanders around the kitchen and ponders to himself as he stares out a window. He looks back to Gloria who had just opened a storage cabinet that was completely empty. 

“Ya find anythin’ yet?” Merle says, slowly walking closer to her.

Gloria shakes her head, her back facing Merle, “No, there is literally nothing in here, everything’s empty.” 

“'s that so...” Merle reaches Gloria and then shoves her into the cabinet.

“What the fuck?!” Gloria yelps.

Merle quickly closes the cabinet doors and locks her inside. Gloria bangs on the inside of the cabinet for him to let her out.

“No can do, sweetheart. With ya followin’ me out there, ya gon’ get me killed. I’m better off alone, no hard feelin’s though, ya helped a lot.” Merle says as he chains up the outside of the cabinet, so that nothing can get in nor out of it.

“Merle, you son of a bitch, let me out of here right now!” Gloria angrily continues to bang on the cabinet doors.

“Hey hey hey! Relax! Ya said yaself, my brother and yers are gonna come back to get ya, ya'll be fine!” Merle says as he makes his way to the window he had been looking out of. 

“Merle! Open this door or I am going to-” the sound of glass shattering interrupts Gloria’s angry rant, “Merle? Merle!” 

---

Next Chapter

Yep so Merle ditched Gloria... she’s safe though! And sorry there was no Daryl in this chapter, he’s in the next one though, I promise!! 

I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

[ludi-ling]

Crazy Eights

Well, here it is, a little treat for my followers - the first chapter of Crazy 8′s, the sequel to 52 Pickup. I’m sharing since it’s Day 7 (AU) of Rogue/Gambit Week 2020. I don’t know if I’ll ever finish this story, even though I got a fair way through it, since I wrote myself into a corner, and I’m not sure I like it very much. But I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy!

Crazy Eights

Chapter 1

               Thieving 101.

               Simplest rule in the book.

               Don’t get caught.

               I can hear pere’s voice in my head, clear as day, literally beatin’ the words into all of us, his snotty-nosed, grass-stain-scuffed li’l Fagin’s gang.

               Don’t. Get. Caught.

               And then his face, leaning in towards mine, grinning, saying:

               Unless, o’ course, you have a reason t’get caught.

               Yeah, that was mon pere, full of good, subtle ideas. He’d usually direct them at me cos he knew I was like the worst kind of sponge. I’d be soakin’ all that shit up, swimmin’ in it like a gator swims in swamp water.  As a kid, I’d always figured he was just picking on me. As an adult, I realise all he was doing was laying down challenges, cos he knew this punk-ass kid would rise to the bait every time, pushing every damn boundary he could along the way.

               You got potential, boy. But you got no discipline. Always halfway t’ bein’ in a rage, t’ ventin’ it out on some poor trash. You play de con, kid, you live de con. No heart-on-your-sleeve shit.  Dat stays inside. Cos y’know what? Folks can read dat crap a mile away.

               “C’mon, pretty boy,” the man to my right grunts, as the alarms I’ve set off still scream all around us. “Getcha arse in gear. The boss don’t take kindly to waitin’.”

               He prods me in the back with the barrel of his gun, a little too sharply than is strictly necessary; but I get it, he has a job to do, and actin’ mean is part of it.

               “Yeah, well, that’s what bosses are like, mon ami,” I answer with a smirk. “Never got time for nothin’. Mebbe you should think about goin’ freelance, neh?  It has its advantages.  No calls at unsociable hours… Don’t gotta do all the dirty work y’self… Get t’ have a couple of pretty femmes hangin’ on your every word… Still. I reckon mebbe you two ain’t smart ’nuff yet t’ graduate from the ol’ ‘Crime Boss 101’ course, am I right?”

               “Hey!” The guy to my left gives me a crack on the back of the head with what I assume is also the barrel of a gun. “Shut the fuck up!”

               See? Boring, predictable, run-of-the-mill flunkies. These couyons ain’t never gon’ make it past mid-tier bodyguard material.

               And those alarms are still screaming.  Ain’t some asshole gon’ shut it off already?  It’s givin’ me a headache.

               Whatever. I do as I’m told and shut the fuck up. Mostly because I’m busy scanning the décor of this corridor we appear to be walking down.  The walls are lined with paintings, a mess of eras and styles that could tell anyone with an ounce of taste that whoever’s collecting this shit has none.  Taste, that is.  All it tells me is that this guy has cash, and he don’t mind throwin’ it ’round.  We walk past a Cezanne, and I grimace.

               Hang on in there, li’l guy, I say to myself as we sweep right by it. One o’these days I’m gonna free you.  Soon.

               Cos let’s face it.

               You think I’m gonna leave a Cezanne to rot in Cain Marko’s fuckin’ playboy mansion when it could be on my wall?

               I think not.

               We get to the end of the corridor and, thankfully, as soon as we do, someone finally finds the off switch to the alarms. My lovely escorts throw open the burnished oak doors that I can only assume lead to Marko’s private hidey-hole; and before I have a chance to admire the woodwork, I’m being pushed inside in yet another unnecessary show of who’s boss.  I stumble a little over the threshold, and there he is.  Cain Marko, kingpin of London town.  A big, ugly, concrete slab of a man with a mat of red hair and a jaw like a foot.  He’s sitting on a burgundy-red velvet sofa that looks to be late Victorian.  Possibly a Chippendale? Something to research later.  True to form, he has a girl on each knee.

               Crimes bosses.  I toldja so.  Predictably borin’.  Boringly predictable.

               “Well, well,” Marko greets me with a menacing grimace and a Cockney rasp. “Robert Lord.  Your reputation precedes you.  Finally, we get to meet face ta face.”

               It’s at that point that Jake decides to kick in, a harassed voice in my earpiece, hissing: “Remy? Remy, where the fuck are you? Is everything okay?”

               I jerk my head to one side and Jake’s panicked questioning cuts out.

               “Yeah,” I address the man on the sofa. “Coulda been under better circumstances, though. Don’t much care for bein’ kicked around and chained up.” I clink the restraints at my wrists and ankles meaningfully. “Unless, o’ course, it’s consensual and there’s a woman involved.”

               An ugly grin crosses Marko’s face.  He shifts a little and pats each girl on the ass; they get the message and get to their feet, tottering out on stilettos that take a certain art to walk in – neither of them have it.

               “Well,” Marko says with mock disappointment as he, too, gets to his feet. “If ya wanted to meet under better circumstances, you coulda made a less shitty attempt to rob me, Mr. Lord.  I’d heard you were supposed to be some thief extraordinaire, but you ask me? You, breakin’ into my safe? That was pretty fuckin’ amateurish.”

               “Hey,” I banter back good-naturedly as I watch him walk over to the bar and pour himself a drink. “I got through most of your li’l traps jes’ fine, mon ami.  You wanna talk amateurish, let’s talk ‘bout your alarms. They’re more fuckin’ painful than Tante Mattie boxin’ me onna ears.  And it takes too long to shut ‘em off.  Either that, or your flunkies are too stupid to figure out how.”

               Marko, who’d looked half-amused up to this point, lets his mouth drop into a disdainful sneer.

               “Y’know somethin’, yank?” he growls at me, turning back from the bar. “You talk too fuckin’ much.”

               I raise a wounded eyebrow at him.

               “Yank? Hey, now you’re just insultin’ me.”

               “Oh really?” He laughs; and I take back the comment about his alarm system. This is worse. “Mr. Lord, insults are gonna be the least of your problems tonight. No one steals from Cain Marko and gets to just walk out again. You picked the wrong house to rob, mate.  This is one job you ain’t walkin’ out of.”

               He lifts his chin slightly and calls out:

               “Klein?!”

               There’s no answer, and he gives an irate little pause, looks over his shoulder and says again:

               “Klein?! Where the fuck are you?”

               “I’m here,” a woman’s voice replies from a darkened corner, her presence so unexpected it even causes me to jump.

               “Fuck me, woman,” Marko rasps at her. “How long you been standin’ there?”

               The woman says nothing, simply stepping out from her corner.  I realise there’s a door there.  It’s impossible to say whether she’d just walked through, or whether she’d been there all along.  Marko ain’t big on lighting.  Which is a shame, ‘cos Klein is a woman to be looked at.  Mile long legs and a figure to get all wrapped up in.  Brunette hair scraped back into a bun that begs to be loosened. A glance like wildfire.

               “Sorry,” she says with a small twist of humour, all delivered in a perfectly delicious and proper English accent.  I feel some sorta expression begin to form on my face; an appreciative little smile begins to shift round my lips.

               Forget pretty girls tottering around in sexy stilettos they can’t walk in.  This is a woman.

               She glances over at me, then back at her boss with an expectant expression.

               “This shit thief stole me old lady’s engagement ring.” He takes a cellphone out his back pocket and stares at it. “Lesse how fast you can find it for me.”

               Klein don’t waste time mincing words.  Unlike the two couyons behind me, she’s calm, quiet, efficient.  She marches on up with a roll of the hips that’s entirely unconscious.  When she’s finally in front of me, I catch a whiff of her perfume – a barely-there scent that’s not quite fruity and not quite flowery.

               I cock my head to one side and hitch her a smile.

               She doesn’t take the bait.  Her expression is composed as she sizes me up, wondering where to start.  It’s as if she hasn’t even noticed my smile at all.

           “Be gentle, chere,” I quip.

              That’s when she raises her eyes and gives me a look – part disinterested, part unimpressed. Her facade is almost frosty, but it don’t fool me. Beneath the cargo pants and the bomber jacket and the unadorned face, there’s a something to this woman. It’s in the sway of her hips and the sensuousness of her scent. It’s in a whole lot more besides.

              She frisks me in all the usual places, and, Goddamn, her hands alone are enough to set me on fire. Her movements are precise, clinical... yet as insinuating as the touch of a lover.

              Did I mention yet I haven't had sex in 8 fucking weeks?

              She gets on her knees and runs her palms down my legs, and it’s almost more than I can take.

              “While you’re down there, chere...” I can’t help but say; and she pauses, looks up at me with steely eyes and says... Nothing.

              Her gaze fixes on my fly like it’s the only option left, and now we’re talkin’.

              She holds eye contact as she raises both hands, and thumbs open the button of my pants. Her look is impassive; but there’s an undercurrent there, a something that’s signalling to me loud and clear. She unzips my fly slow as a strip tease, and that’s when the shadow of a smile flickers across her face – a brief split second of something more, something to work with.

              Jesus Christ, I’m holding my breath.

              She knows what I’m thinking. She rises to full height and this time she doesn’t bother to hide the smile. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

              “Thought you were s’pposed t’be lookin’ for contraband, p’tite,” I can't help but drawl. The comment wipes the smile from her lips and her gaze drops. She yanks open my fly and within a few short seconds she’s found the fob pocket hidden inside the waistband of my pants. Another split second later and she’s found the ring.

              She turns and flashes it triumphantly at Marko.

              “You made record time, Klein,” he observes approvingly, glancing up from his phone. “Twelve seconds. I’m impressed.”

              Twelve seconds? I swear it coulda been a lifetime...

              She throws the ring to her boss and I watch on, with a wistful sense of loss, as it arcs across the room and into his hand. Oh well. Next time, maybe.

              “If you’re done, chere,” I pipe up behind her, “mebbe you could zip me up again? O’ course, if you ain’t, we can always take dis somewhere a li’l more private... ...”

              I hadn’t exactly been expecting an answer, so I’m doubly taken off guard when she whips round and socks me hard with a fist to the face.

              I totter a bit, tasting blood and seeing stars.

              Damn, this woman packs a punch!

              In the background, Marko’s laughing raucously.

              “Looks like you chose the wrong woman t’ try and charm, yank.”

              Seriously? Enough with the ‘yank’ thing already!

              I grit my teeth and scowl as he continues:

              “Zip ’im up, Klein. I can afford to be charitable to trespassers. I think we can let him leave here with his dignity, if not his life. He has taste after all. Me old ma’s engagement ring,” and he grins sardonically over at me, “is my favourite piece outta my entire collection.”

              Klein obediently turns around and zips me up with more force than necessary. No more smiles and subtle flirtation. She doesn’t even look at me.

              “Sentimental value,” Marko is saying, turning the ring between thumb and forefinger as he approaches me. “That’s what this ring has, Mr. Lord. Me old ma woulda been turnin’ in her grave if I lost it. Specially to some shitty low-feeder like you.”

              I lick the blood from my lip slowly. Low-feeder, huh? This guy is really throwing out them punches tonight.

              “Yeah, I getcha,” I retort with a sarcastic grin. “Momma woulda slapped ya t’ kingdom come if you ever messed wit’ her jewellery. Beat you wit’ a belt, prob’ly, told ya you were a good f’nothin’ piece o’ shit, I’m willin’ t’bet. Sure, I can read a mommy complex a mile away, homme, and you got it bad.”

              I dunno what’s gotten inta me tonight. Or maybe I do. Frustration is a thing and a half. I'm fuckin’ wired, and I can’t stop running my damn mouth off. I ain’t usually this lippy. Honestly.

              Anyways, I’m steeling myself for a beating from my End-of-Level-Boss, but surprisingly he don’t take the bait. Judging from his get-up, he’s ready for a night out, and he don’t want my blood soiling his purple Savile Row suit. Which is good for me, ‘cos the rings on his fingers look like they could double up for some pretty nasty knuckle dusters.

              “I take it back,” he sneers down his nose at me. “This bloody yank don’t deserve jack.”

              He sweeps away and grabs his jacket.

              “You’ve been lookin’ t’prove yerself, ain’t’cha, Klein,” he throws over his shoulder at the woman still standing beside me. “Take care of Mr. Lord for me, and consider yerself one of the gang.” He walks over to a side table, pulls open a draw and takes out a gun. When he throws it to her, she catches it like she doesn’t even have to think about it. “Just make sure you keep some suitably gory keepsake for me to remember ’im by. I’m thinkin’ his teeth. He’s got them pearly whites you can only get in ’Murica. It'll remind me of ’is charmin’ smile.”

              He laughs to himself, throws the ring up in the air, catches it, and deposits it into his pocket.

              “Sorry, Mr. Lord,” he addresses me, “but I have places to go and people to kill.  Don’t worry. Klein’ll entertain you in the playpen.” He waves absently at a door to the right. “I’m sure she’s just itchin’ to get her hands on you.”

              He chuckles and heads for the door, followed by one of his henchmen, leaving with a final, gleeful, “So long!”

              The door bangs shut and now it’s just me, Klein, and Henchman #1.

              Wise strategy on Marko’s part, if Ms. Klein is basically untried and untested.  I might break her little heart, and Henchman #1 might have to put me down instead.

              I suppress a laugh at the thought.

              Klein says nothing. She turns abruptly and sticks the barrel of the gun into the small of my back.

              “Move,” she says.  Her voice is deadpan – nothing to work with.

              “Y’know, chere,” I venture conversationally, as I start shuffling over to the door, “I could speed up some if you’d jes’ untie these chains… Then we could get t’ playtime in the playpen a whole lot faster…”

              “Hey, shut up will ya!” Henchmen #1 barks at me, punctuated by a sharp poke in the back by Klein’s gun. All right, all right, already. I get the message.  They hustle me up to the door and next thing I know, I’m being shoved inside.  Henchman #1 shuts the door behind me and I hear the locks thunk shut.  Now it’s just me, and Klein.

              It turns out the playpen could give H. H. Holmes’ hotel of horrors a run for its money. It’s a pokey little room, and someone’s done gone and painted the walls in a nice shade of red and crusty brown. Blood, gore and brain matter.  The whole place stinks of death.  Merde. The light-hearted mood I’ve managed to maintain so far immediately takes a dive.

              “I take it housekeepin’ don't come round often,” I quip in an undertone – hardly as insolent as it could've been, but it earns me a kick up the ass anyway.  I stagger forward under the momentum, turning to face my would-be executioner as I do so.

              She has the gun pointed at me.

              “Chere, I’d put my hands up if they weren’t tied behind my—”

              The gun fires.

              And the bullet hits the wall over my shoulder.

              The crazy femme don’t give me a moment to recover.

              In a flash she’s lowered the gun and is marching right over to me, grabbing the front of my shirt and jerking me down into a hungry kiss.

              “It’s okay,” she whispers when she sees I’m too shocked to respond. “There aren’t any cameras in here.”

              The words are barely out of her mouth and she’s kissing me again. This time I slip easily out of the chains that I’ve been working on ever since they were clapped on me, and as soon as they hit the ground, I let my palms slide up over her cheeks, pulling her closer, deeper into our kiss. Her fingers wind into my hair, tugging lightly; her body presses against mine, reminding me exactly what I’ve been without the past couple of months. I grab handfuls of her perfect ass and pull her in closer.

              God, I’d fuck her right here, right now, if we weren’t in this shithole and this wasn’t a very important job.

              We kiss until we have no air left to breathe.

              “Lord, I’ve missed ya, Remy,” she murmurs against my lips.

              “Mmm, not as much as I’ve missed you,” I answer sincerely, stealing another kiss before adding heatedly, “Eight whole weeks without you, chere... It’s enough t’ drive a man certifiably insane.”

              She laughs, soft and sexy, her fingers combing lightly through my hair as she backs up a bit and regards me.

              “Darlin’,” she murmurs with a smile, “you were the one who said no contact...”

              “Didn’t wanna risk breakin’ your cover, Anna,” I reply, bridging the slight gap between us and feathering light kisses along her jawline. “Cain Marko’s gang don’t got a real nice reputation, sweet.”

              “Pfft,” she scoffs. “I can handle myself.”

              “For sure,” I agree. “But I’d prefer it if we didn’t tank this mission ‘cos we couldn’t keep our hands offa each other.”

              She hums with vague agreement and runs her thumb across my bottom lip.

              “Sorry about the fist to the face, babe,” she apologises. “Hope I didn’t hurt you too much."

              “Peh.” I wave it off absently – I'd pretty much forgotten it already. “You do what you gotta. Speaking of...”

              But she’s already way ahead of me, rooting around in her utility belt and taking out the small mem-chip case.

              “Nice distraction, by the way,” she congratulates me wryly as she hands me the goods.

              “Didja like it?” I ask her, pocketing the small case.

              “In theory. Thought you had more style, though, Cajun. You managed to set off every alarm in the fucking building.”

              “Heh. Just wanted to make sure you had enough time to pull the heist, cherie.”

              She rolls her eyes expressively.

              “You thought it was funny pissing everyone off, admit it. And what was all that business with the fob pocket?”

              “Chere,” I answer with mock sincerity. “Eight weeks of celibacy and you think I’m gonna pass up the chance to have you feel me up? C’mon.”

              The punch she lands on my bicep is enough to hurt.

              “You are such a troll!” she shoots at me with more affection than ire, I’m happy to say.

              “You love it,” I mutter, grabbing her helplessly and kissing her mouth soundly. We end up wasting a few more precious seconds making out again.

              “So what we gonna do, huh?” I ask her once we break apart. “Henchman #1 is waitin’ outside, and I figure we could both take him out pretty easy...”

              “Nuh-uh,” she cuts me off with a mischievous grin. “That’ll break our cover for sure. You, sweetheart, are taking the back door out.”

              Her gaze slides over my shoulder, and when I look back, I see that the back door is actually a chute in the wall. From the amount of gore it’s covered in, it’s pretty obvious it's a disposal chute – for corpses.

              “You have got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me, p’tite,” I groan under my breath.

              “Think of it as payback for kicking me down that garbage chute back at the Plaza hotel,” she banters back lightly, clearly enjoying this.

              “Anna, after this, we’re even and then some,” I say dolefully.

              “Yup,” she replies cheerfully. She swoops in for another quick kiss before saying: “I’ll be waiting for you by the East gate in about 30. Got some stuff to finish up here, otherwise they’ll get suspicious.”

              “All right.” My response is half-hearted. I ain’t relishing goin’ down that chute, that’s for sure. Anna, however, is completely indifferent to my plight. She’s almost at the door already when I stop her.

              “Uhh… Anna?”

              She stops, turns.

              “What?”

              I point down at my chained-up ankles.

              “Li’l help, please?”

               She gives a theatrical sigh; but she comes back anyway, dropping to her knees and undoing the chains round my ankles.

              “I’m pretty sure you could do this yourself faster than I ever could, Cajun,” she says pointedly, to which I shrug and reply:

              “Sure. But havin’ you down on your knees in front of me brings back all sorts of happy mem’ries I’ve been denied the past couple of months.”

              The chains clatter to the floor and she quirks an unimpressed look at me.

              “Jesus. You’re puttin’ out more pheromones than a skunk puts out spray.”

              “Chere, I been insulted ’nuff today, bein’ called a ‘yank’ an’ all. You reckon you could find an analogy a little more flatterin’ than a skunk?”

              She gets to her feet and plants her hands on her hips.

              “Swamp boy, there ain’t enough analogies in the world for the dirty things I wanna call you right now,” she declares in her gorgeously titillating and rarely-bestowed native Mississippi accent.

              “Oooh,” I banter back. “Dirty, huh? Beb, when I get you home tonight, you can call me all the dirty things under the sun. I can’t wait.”

              She chooses to ignore the statement, walking over to the chute instead and pulling it open. When she looks back at me, she’s smiling sweetly.

              “Sugar, when we get home tonight, the first thing you’re gonna do is take a shower. Cos once you’ve gone down this here chute, you’re gonna be dirty as hell, and not in a good way.”

              Trust her to kill the mood. I peer down the hole gingerly. The miasma wafting up from down below is worse than any skunk’s.

              “Chere, you wanna rethink this? Only I get the feelin’ one shower ain’t gon’ be enough t’ get the stench out...”

              “Quit being such a baby!” She’s smiling way too hard for my liking at this point. “The sooner you get this over with, the sooner we can wrap up this job.”

              I step reluctantly up to the edge of the hole, and she leans in over my shoulder, murmurs in my ear: “And the sooner I can get my hands on you again.” She lets that suggestion linger. And, Dieu, does it linger.

              “Now buckle up and hold onto the railings,” she warns me.

              “What railings?” I manage to get out, before her boot heel connects with my ass, and I’m suddenly tumbling through the filth and mire down, down into the depths of the Marko mansion.

-oOo-

[Chapter 2 now here!]

[fandom-necromancer]

Android tears

Thank you so much for prompting this! I loved writing this!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warning: self-harm (character unhealthily denying their personality))

‘Don’t you patronise me! I can talk and decide for myself, dipshit!’ ‘I don’t need your phcking help, leave me alone!’ ‘Oh so suddenly you try befriend me? Phck off!’ ‘So, we started working together. No big deal. But I won’t be up for this partner bullshit, yeah? And no, I won’t go with you to some bar! Get your metal ass somewhere else, I’ll go with Tina. You are not invited.’

RK900 had learned very early that Detective Gavin Reed was a rather stubborn and proud individual. It was difficult to work with him to say the least. But he was just as determined himself. If he simply did all the man demanded of him he would certainly get more civil, right? If he had no reason to complain, maybe he would become nicer. RK900 was deviant, had been woken up after the revolution by Markus and Connor. He remembered how confusing the world had been. No orders, no purpose, no goals. He had to set them himself. His current mission was to get on Reed’s good side. Only then he could work effectively.

The only problem were his emotions. Without programming to hold them in check they were free to mingle with his logic and decision-making. He had learned to appreciate them very early on because they managed to give him a clear first impression and quick reactions. A detection device in social situation and an essential part of him he embraced with pride. He couldn’t understand how others shut them out as if they were some intruding virus, although he unfortunately knew their chaining properties too.

Every time the Detective scolded him, told him what to do and more importantly what not to do, he was swallowed by emotions. They kept him back from nodding his head and go on, letting him replay his decisions in his mind to find the error. He had tried to help, helping was a good thing. He had wanted to help the Detective because then things would be easier for the human. Humans liked when things were easy and appreciated the attention and care of others. It was the basic idea of friendship and other human social structures. Working together was an essential part of their identity starting in their organic origin and ending in their self-created societies. So why was this detective so averse to him offering his help or trying to form these social bonds? He seemed to like their initial purpose, the simple machines, more. And if RK900 had to cut his emotions short to try and convince this human he was worth getting to know if Reed just tried, he would do that. Even if it made him feel horrible and made him having trouble entering stasis thinking about the regret of having to become something he was not. But if he got the Detective to like him, to be more open, then maybe he could show him his true self again. Maybe this all was too much at once for the man.

 So he stripped away more and more personality with each and every scolding or complaint. He stopped offering to carry their files to and from the archive, he stopped asking how the detective’s weekend had been. He stopped trying to engage in after work activities with him. He stopped joking with him. He slowly became more of a machine than he would have been had he never deviated. But it started to work: the detective’s complaints were becoming rarer. RK900 was sure he could soon start trying to slowly build himself up again.

‘Toaster, you’ll go right, I’ll go left! Get that asshole!’ RK900 nodded and started speeding up. Their fugitive was running in front of the detective, but if he was fast enough he might be able to intercept him, allowing them a quick and easy arrest. Reed would like that. He exceeded human speeds as his feet drummed against the ground and calculated the possible path of the fugitive. His speed was ideal. He would turn around the corner and stand just in front of the man. Perfect.

It was the void he found when he actually turned around that disturbed his preconstructing programs. He just looked at the empty space for a few moments before distant curses reached his ears. In the distance, only half way between him and where they had split up before, Reed was held by the throat over a deep chasm where traintracks emerged from a tunnel. The Detective gasped for air, scratching at the arm of their fugitive trying to get out of his grip and at the same time hold onto him.

‘Gavin!’ RK900 felt his carefully buried emotions reemerge, recognised the fear in his voice as he screamed out the name he wasn’t allowed to use. Would the criminal let go of him, the detective’s chances at survival were minimal. The drop he could survive with serious injuries, but the current was a whole different thing. His mechanical heart dropped as the fugitive saw him, panicked and let go of his partner in favour of running off. He was already running, knowing well enough he wouldn’t make it in time, but was relieved to see the man managed to grab at the edge, now hanging down the wall. RK900 was confronted with a decision. Everything in him screamed to help the man, to grab his wrists and lift him up back to safe grounds. But there was also [Reed doesn’t need my phcking help, leave him alone!]. RK900 nearly gave in to the urge, but reminded himself the detective had valued the mission always higher than his own wellbeing. He wouldn’t like it would he let the fugitive get away. Although it hurt, RK900 ran past his struggling partner and followed the criminal, catching him two blocks away and calling in someone to take him away. It was as the car departed, he saw a figure walking towards him. A very angry figure.

‘What the phcking hell were you thinking leaving me alone there?’, the detective screamed at him, while RK900 just felt immense relief that the human was still alive and well. ‘What made yoou think this was a good idea, huh? You phcking tin-can! I could have died! Ah maybe you wanted that? Get rid of me finally? You phcking asshole. Guess finishing your mission is more important than a human life.’ ‘You!’ He sucked in more air before uttering the words that cut deep, too deep: ‘You are just a phcking machine after all! Why had I even imagined you care? You don’t have emotions, you don’t have anything. Just a stupid, worthless robot.’

RK900 couldn’t bear this any more. Everything the man had said to him until now had made him become this, he had had hope to finally be good, to finally be what the man wanted. But now… It suddenly wasn’t enough, it wasn’t at all pleasing. All these confines, all this effort – for nothing. The android felt his knees gave in underneath him and he fell together with his self-written confines. All the emotions he had locked away to please the human now came flooding back and over him, weighing him down with immense pressure. He felt it all. Hurt was the strongest, but beyond that laid an overwhelming sea of sadness with just a dash of despair. ‘Nines?’ It was carefully spoken and absent-mindedly he realised there were tears streaming down his face. Just too much emotion to handle. Everything was felt and flew down a drain just to emerge as fury and anger he tried to supress desperately, because even after all this, he still wanted to be good. To build up a friendship to this true asshole of a human being. But it wasn’t to be contained. It was like a barrel leaking water through holes and he tried to press his hands against them, only that the holes were bathtub-sized. ‘Nines, god, is everything okay?’ RK900 shook his head, the tears rolling down now of anger not of sadness. ‘You really think that? You really think that everything is okay?’ He laughed through the tears standing up and saw Gavin taking a step back from him - hand stretched out towards him before now back to his side. ‘How can you?!’ RK900 hadn’t realised his voice could be this loud, this booming. ‘I guess that’s too much for you, huh? A crying android. I bet you’ll make fun of that too! Hah, this damn tin-can invited me to drink. It can’t even drink. Hah, the toaster tried taking a box away from me. Like I couldn’t do it myself! Hah, the stupid machine can’t even take a hit, it’s crying now! I am just something you can hate on, isn’t that right? I did everything you wanted. I tried to be nice to you, who knows why, and every time you told me to stop. And I complied. I followed everything you told me. I became something I hated just to please you! And now. Now I followed it again, keeping the mission first priority as I should do according to you. And now that is wrong, too? I realise now there is no way to please you. There is no way for me becoming friends with you, because everything I do is wrong, no matter what I do or how hard I try. I realised everything I denied myself I denied without a reason, without something  to make it worth in the end. And still you have the audacity to ask if everything is okay?’

‘Nines, I.. I didn’t know-‘ ‘Oh you knew. You just didn’t care.’ RK900’s anger had subsided. It had felt good being angry, it gave him energy to say what he had wanted to push out for so long. But now… there was just the cold realisation and the sadness coming back. ‘Is that really how you felt all the time? I never realised what I said hurt you like that.’ ‘Oh no, why should it hurt, right? Because it’s just an android, right? No harm done then. Of course it hurts! I have feelings too!’ ‘You always seemed like that stoic robot to me, Nines. I didn’t even knew you heard what I’d said.’ ‘No, you just never looked past the robot. I was just another damn android to you! Like an oversized computer! I am a person, Gavin!’ There was silence as the android used his sleeve to wipe away the streaks of tears on his cheeks and Gavin looked to the ground.

As the human lifted his head again and looked into RK900’s eyes, despite logic and reason, hope rose up. ‘I am sorry, Nines.’ ‘That won’t change anything you’ve done’, RK900 hissed with venom. ‘I know.’ That caught him off-guard and maybe the detective deserved another chance. Yet another one after the uncontable number of chances RK900 had granted him already. So, he just sighed, blinking away the residue in his eyes.

‘It won’t erase your mistakes. But I guess it’s a start.’ ‘Start over then?’ Gavin held out his hand with his offer. ‘As partners?’ RK900 eyed him sceptically. ‘As partners’, Gavin agreed and Nines took the human’s hand with a firm nod.