#think op meant Rake not Take

[theslimeologist]

LEGALLY EVICTABLE FOR LAWN CARE CRIMES

i can only hope that one day people who use leafblowers on their residential lawns realize they look just as stupid as someone using a riding lawn mower. That is a heavy duty tool my friend.

The humble rake can do this job. For many fewer dollars. And zero environmental impact.

[tonycries]

BUTTER

Synopsis. First time cúmming inside = first time losing his mind.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, creampíes, PÚSSYDRÚNK JJK MEN, breéding, cúmplay, men whímpering, virgínity loss (Choso), overstím, ínnapropriate use of jujutsu, GOJO’S POWERS, proposals, full nélson, true form Sukuna, dp, spítting, p slápping, p talking, limitless, oraI (fem rec.), pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Earned it.

“I-is she really tellin’ me to hah- f-fill her up inside, doll?” Toji breathes, dazed eyes locked down at your stuffed entrance. And he can barely focus his gaze - barely even try to sound like himself right now. “I-is this real?”

Ragged rasps just about half as ruined as he feels, lilting up in pitch. In strain. Sharp intakes of breath becoming so labored when his entire hulking body wracks with a heaving shiver. 

And Toji’s scrambling his thick fingers to latch roughly onto your face, your waist - anywhere and everywhere that might help him keep an ounce of his sanity.

But it was too late.

“Heh, did I hngh- fuck the rationality outta ya? You really want me t-to-” Head throwing back, he can’t even think of finishing his sentence. Of doing anything other than curling one set of fingers around your throat. Biceps flexing when he shoves you even harder onto all fours on the silken sheets, he cranes over to place a line of pretty pecks down your teary cheeks, panting, “Well…wh-whatever my girl wants- she gets, right?”

And he meant it.

Oh, he couldn’t even believe it. Toji had your pretty pussy overfilled with all of his thick, thorough inches - slamming his hips drunkenly against yours when you’d babbled to cum inside. Fuck, it’s so real.

And that’s all it takes for him to clamor up one of his staggeringly muscular thighs up onto the plushy bed. To messily slip and slide across the saturated puddle of your sweet, sweet dripping juices and press his foot down shamelessly on your head. Like he couldn’t get enough.

The new angle nestles his hefty cock disruptively, dredges of his sweltering hot precum splat! against every inch of your clingy cunt.

“Oh yeah- th-this is the stuff.” His dark, dewy eyes veer to the very back of his head, hissing when his achy cock expands open your gummy walls. Throbbing head swelling plumper to curve even deeper, “Let me- l-let me hear ya, ma-”

Your trembly fingers rake a reddened line down his calf. Gasping for air at the way the rotund end of his angry, strawberry-pink tip kisses against your g-spot so snugly. “W-wan’ it so badly- please.”

“Want what?” Toji’s teasing tone rumbles from behind, and he’s gyrating his hips ever-so-slightly slower. Making sure to draw out those wet, translucent glides down your tight channel, “Can’t- can’t hear you-”

Honestly, he had absolutely no idea whether it was because of your honeyed tone breaking out into the cutest of whimpers, or because Toji’s ears were popping. Swatting a wet smack! at your beading clit to get you to yelp, his drawling mouth moves all by itself. “Already asked- t-tell me now unless ya want me to cum outside-”

“No! No no no-” And that was all the threat it took to have you careening unsteadily onto your elbows, fully forgetting the mean restraint of Toji’s foot on top of you. “Please- need you to cum inside please-”

“Louder.”

You’re sneakily shivering your hips down every one of his rummaging inches. “Toji-”

“Ohhhh- my bad.” With a slight snicker, his tongue glissades a wet gloss down the very edges of his scar. Leaving rounded circular bruises at your bobbing throat just how harshly Toji was jostling you with the vice-like embrace, and you can only manage out a few sniffles when he drags by one strong arm to crash the recoil into his ruthless hips. Dangerously stopping you in your tracks. Humming, “Stop fuckin’ running, I w-was talkin’ to ya pretty pussy.”

Your bleary eyes snap open, “What–”

“Shhh, doll- stop whining so much–” he’s cooing in a syrupy slow cadence. “Jus’ needa- needa hear it from her.”

Slapping down his leaky cockhead along your sloppy hole every few strokes, having you drooling a glossy sheen down his thick shaft like you were painting him. So much of it that the dripping wet noises were resounding in Toji’s ears, dancing around his melty mind like his new favorite song. 

Oh, he loved to hear it. Over and over and-

“S-so soaked.” he’s groaning out like a mantra, darkened eyes grifting together. Mouth can all but lift his drunken maw slack open at every tightening clamp of your syrupy pussy, “You want me to cum inside this badly, doll?” 

And you feel your puffed-up pussy lips get even more soaked at the utter pussydrunk look on Toji’s usually smug-features. “Because I’ve been thinking about this e-ever since the day I met ya-” He’s craning over - hunching, more like.  Baring you with his most crazed gaze, “To breed ya- to fill you up ‘ntil you think you’re gonna hah burst. To make ya a pretty momma so-” Back muscles flexing, abs aching with fatigue, lips dragging a sopping wet kiss. “-please let me cum inside.”

Ah, who was Toji Fushiguro against you?

Because as soon as your head even dares to move within the inch of that half-delirious nod you send his way, Toji’s sopping your insides sloshing wet with his cum. For the first time. In awe. Load after load being fucked up into you - white flashes behind your eyes when you feel it knock against your womb, trickling down over your cervix.

And there’s so much of it.

“Gonna have yer g-gorgeous eyes-” he slurs, crushing you with his full body weight. “-n’ your smile fuck- my love for ya-” It won’t’ stop - Toji can’t stop, can’t reel back the weepy curving divot of his head. “M’thinking four- no- five.” Still oozing out a milky gloss even when he’s dragging his fat cock out of your hole. 

Still cumming. Smearing every nook and cranny of the sheet below white as he flips you around and plants a sudden smack! on your overspilling pussy, gushing out obscenely when Toji’s urgently bringing his face down, down, down.

“Oh. Fuckin’ delicious.” His eyes droop half-lidded at the heavenly sight - shit, he could get used to this. Mouth watering, his feverish breath wafts all over your sensitive pussy. “I earned this, didn’t I, ma?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Happy wife, happy life

“Ken-”

“...”

“Ken.”

But oh, Nanami Kento can’t even hear his pretty wife right about now. Can’t do anything but shove his greedy tongue down the ends of your sopping wet slit, pooling your syrupy juices all the way down to his throat.

In fact, the only response you’re being gifted with is a furious pull on his dangling work tie - barely even bothering to change out of it - to be able to swipe his nose down more freely in a long kiss down your puffy clit. More, more, more-

Keening, your fingers tangle into Nanami’s blond strands - tugging, dragging, but shit, he couldn’t - wont. It hurt for him to even think of pulling away. Roughened palms scissor past your folds, and he pants, “P-please- fuck- just a bit- more-”

He was addicted. Gone. 

“B-but Ken-” Couldn’t register anything past the way your voice was dipping into a whiny territory right now that made him twitch dangerously. That is, until- “Wan’ to cum w-with you- to have you ah- cum inside-”

Oh.

If you thought that Nanami was drunk on you before then you were completely unprepared for the way that singular babbling plea make him still. 

It makes him gasp, honeyed eyes widening, feverish breaths spilling out in heaving puffs of condensation - once, twice. Before your back is suddenly slamming down on the counter, legs splayed out shamefully by Nanami’s sturdy forearms, and your cunt-

Fuck, in a few split-seconds, you were being stuffed so thoroughly open. Nanami’s reddish cockhead springing down to gift a wet thwack! thwack! thwack! on your puffed-up clit, he’s swiping down the ends of your drooling lips. 

“I-inside?” he breathes, a few octaves higher than usual.

You’re nodding, your fingers twirling around his haphazard tie. “Inside.”

“Anything…” Nanami breathes, and he sounds like he doesn’t even know that he’s saying the words. Barely ripping his gaze from you to scramble for your left hand - before placing a sweet, sweet peck on that cool wedding band on your ring finger. “Anything f-for you, my love.”

You’re almost crying at that ruthless stretch of his globular tip poking at your insides, he’s caving in a way open - and even after so many years, you’ve never gotten used to how staggeringly big Nanami’s girth was. How his curved divot was steaming out a thick wad of precum that already made you feel so full.

Now, you two had discussed kids - but never acted upon it like this. This needy. This frenzied-

“Wh-whatever you want, y’know-” He’s humming depravedly into your mouth like a mantra,  thumbing past your pouty lips to spit into your mouth. And that very sight of those translucent splatters makes his hips stutter mindlessly, “Anything for you- anything for the future momma of my kids-”

Shit, you throw your head back as soon as he’s grazing two digits down the very hood of your neglected clit - only for Nanami to jostle your head over his hands.

“C-careful-” he murmurs, hand dipping down to massage your neck. Your shoulders - all while his fat cock was rummaging every nook and cranny of your insides. “-don’t wan’ you to hurt your- hah-self, darling. S’not good f-for the-”

Baby.

Nanami doesn’t think he can even bear to say that simple word right about now. 

Risking losing whatever’s left of his sanity, he’s wrapping one beefy arm around your middle to crush your body to his. And before you know it, you’re being hastily jostled off of the counter and dangled midair - all while your gentle husband barely even breaks a sweat. Utilizing the lewd properties of gravity to let you bounce down onto his long length and back upwards. His voice cracks, “-baby.”

“Ah-” your trembly hands wrap their way around his neck, giving Nanami the perfect angle to pepper peck after sultry peck onto your bouncing tits. “D-don’t hah- drop me, Ken, m’kay?”

Drop you?

Drop you?

God, he lets out a slight chuckle at the very thought. Angling to rut his inches even deeper upwards, every tiny massage of your elastic walls around his painful cock makes Nanami nod. So fervently that stray strands stick to his prespired forehead. Such a pretty mess of your sensible husband. “Mhm- w-won’t drop you, I swear- I swear-”

Hips speeding up in such a sloppy way now, but even how you’re tightening his tie won’t make Nanami stop - slow down.

“Promise?”

Slowly, his dribbling cock gushes out even in even more velvety ribbons, you’re watching in such delirious awe at the way those delicate strings of slick and spit stretch all down his pinkish shaft. 

“Promise-” he groans, feeling light-headed. Heavy balls thwacking in a sticky staccato against your ass. Fingers gliding up, up, up to where he was nudging your sensitive g-spot, bruising out his circumference on all your sensitive areas. Kiss after French kiss into your gooey heaven. He presses down. “-gonna f-fill you up right here- won’t miss. Swear I won’t m-miss-”

And he doesn’t.

God, he grows sullenly quiet to hear all those delicious squelches the very moment Nanami’s steaming hot cum is spilling into you. Warming you from the very insides- and your own orgasm has you seeing stars. 

Sloshing around in his favorite little swivels, he can’t help but let his hips gyrate slowly to feel it coat a creamy gloss down his sensitive cock. To feel your tiny whimpers and whines when his seed dredges down your womb. Drip! drip! dripping onto the kitchen tile in an echoing splatter from your slobbery slit. 

You leave a wet peck at the ends of his curled lips, “W-wan’ keep it all inside, Ken- all of it-”

God, you were going to be the death of him.

“M’gonna marry you all over again- s-swear and- and…” And just then, he shudders so violently that you fear for a split-second, legs around his toned waist tightening. “-o-oh, my love- m’gonna cum again.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “U-use me.”

“I-I’m so close-”  Geto finds it in himself to grit his teeth, to force his jittery fingers up to pinch your plump clit. “-gonna cum- fuck, s-stop riding me, honey- unless ya want me to fill you up heh-”

It’s said so low and sultry and even through your hazy mind, you know that it’s a simple tease coming from your boyfriend. You know that he didn’t mean anything by it - but that certainly doesn’t stop the way that your hands grasp around his shoulders, knocking your heads into a messy French kiss. “But, I want you to, Sugu.”

Oh. 

Geto Suguru can’t hide the way his chest heaves with a choked-up moan, how his head throws to the very back of his silken pillowcases when his hips rut upwards into you like a fucking animal.

It’s like he was out of control. Ears ringing with the words, it takes the cult leader below you every shred of will in his entire body to groan out, “D-don’t joke like that- fuck- gonna give me a heart attack, y’know-”

“M’not joking.”

Shit, his eyes widen. Straying down to where your puffy pussy lips were bulging around his fat girth, swallowing up every greedy inch that you were being drilled with. Throat dry, every sound that comes out of him now is painfully raspy, “Y-you fuckin’ mean it? Better not be fuck- talking outta this naughty-” Swat! Coming down to kiss a punishing smack against the edges of your drooling cunt. “-pussy.”

You couldn’t fake the way that makes you glissadingingly drenched even if you wanted to. Nails raking down Geto’s curvaceous pecs to steady your stuttering hips, your bounces grow frantic. 

“Please- c-cum inside-” begging. Maybe you were cockdrunk already, pouting in a way that has his hefty, cum-filled balls squeezing. “Jus’ want you all inside-”

And when Geto thinks back to this situation, he doesn’t know how he was ever supposed to stand a chance. Because with a gasping ricochet of his fat, curved cock onto your most precious g-spot, he’s surging stringy wads of seeds that trickles down your inner thigh. Cumming and cumming so hard - it’s never felt this good - that he almost forgets it’s too early.

That is, until you’re gasping a soft “Baby, did you-”

“Sh-shut up-” And you swear your big, strong boyfriend whimpers. He’s furiously blinking away those glittery globular tears at the ends of his eyes. A tiny pout smeared across his rosy pink lips when you’re being flipped.

One hand around your throat, the other plugging back creamy dredge after dredge into your drooling cunt. Almost as if it was offensive to him to catch that syrupy drizzle, he’s making such a fucking mess. 

“Such a filthy girl- n’ a filthy cunt-” He sputters out, and Geto felt like he was burning a bright red blush all down his pretty features. Matching the angry way your hips were being slammed into his, “Think you s-sooo fuckin’ fuck- fuck fuck fuck-”

And shit, he can’t even finish his sentence before those moans are petering out into speechlessness. A singular tight squeeze of your gummy walls encircles his hot girth. And it’s enough to make him whine, “Please- fuck, how are you doing this-”

Sounding so genuinely in disbelief, you watch as Geto’s mouth drops lewdly at the way every pearlescent bead of his cum was directed towards your cunt. Seeping out through the edges of your sopping lips.

You’re giggling in a drunken way that makes him flinch, “S-something wrong, Sugu?”

“Don’t-” he bares you with a feral grin. Heavy limbs throwing apart your limp legs to jostle his hips into you even harder, and it’s like Geto was spearheading into your lungs. Swiping up translucent wet splatters of his fat head in delicious drags down your spongy cervix. Hissing that even the slightest bit of recoil had him parting from the melty depths of your pussy. “-don’t call m that ‘nless you want me to- oh-” His dewy eyes roll to the back of his head, leaving another unapologetic smack! on your peaked clit. “-t-too late. M’gonna cum- fuck fuck fuck- n’ s’all your fault-”

“Awww–” Teasingly, your fingers drag through his long curtain of hair, scratching lightly at Geto’s scalp in a way that makes him purr. “-how can I hah- make it up to you, Sugu?”

The only thing he wanted right now was to cum inside you again. Once more. Twice. Thrice. Again and again and-

“Use me-” Geto gasps, and he’s careening his head down for what you assumed would be one of his favorite messy kisses - only to wrap those pinkish lips around your tongue and suck. “Use me use me- ohh please, use me- honey- make me a daddy. D-don’t even care anymore-”

And when he cums, Geto’s filling your already sloshingly drenched cunt with heavy loads of his seed. Sticky and honeyed enough that it’s next to impossible for him to pull out and sheath his rock-hard dick unforgivingly into your pussy. 

One of the biggest threats to jujutsu society - whimpering when he spews out a stream of wet swears into your open-mouth, shivering at every one of your milking clamps to drag out something delicious from him. 

He’s curling his hulking body into yours, dripping fingers glistening all the way down to Geto’s wrist with just how much of his loads he’d shoveled all the way back inside your cunt. Giving your sloppy hole a languid circle around the diameter with his slender fingers, before popping them into his mouth. 

And Geto can only see stars behind his eyes, he can only moan at the taste, “I think…” Peaking out a hazy eye at your squirming figure - where the hell did you think you were going? He’s hypnotized, dragging you back into his clutches with a hand curled prettily around your throat. “-that w-we’re not done until m’cumming b-blanks, honey.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Marry you…

One swipe - just one swipe of Choso’s fattened, blushing red tip down your slit is all that it takes for his stupidly pussydrunken eyes to run to the back of his head. For his drooling mouth to slack open with all the utter need of a virgin, “Please-”

You’re humming through your moans, arching your body just right for him to feed you more and more of his half-flaccid inches. “Tell me what you want, baby-”

Fuck, he’s winking open his eyes to peer down at you. Hands traveling their way to roughly jostle your pliant body into one of the meanest mating presses you’d never thought your dear inexperienced best friend possible.

“N-noo–” Choso’s whining, pressing wet pecks down your lips. “Don’t call me that, baby- or else m’gonna…”

Choso’s handsome cheeks burn a shameful red when his eyes drift down to the gooey splatters of cum smeared along your stomach from not too long ago. Just the prospect of being able to put it in too much for his fried brain to handle.

And you’re finding your fingers darting across the glossy sheen sticking to your skin, bringing those drippingly wet digits up, up, up for Choso to gladly wrap his lips around. Sucking. 

“But I want you to, Cho–” Watching as his eyes widen, mouth dropping into a soft oh! Your voice drops into such a hum that makes his swollen tip twitch startlingly. “Want you to c-cum inside m-”

Shit, he doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence - and he doesn’t want to. 

Not unless Choso wants to make an even bigger fool of himself in front of his pretty best friend that oh-so-kindly suggested taking away his virginity. Not like there’s anyone else he’d even dream of giving it to.

Thick, sculpted thigh hiking up, he’s slamming his hefty cockhead down until your swollen folds were kissing up in a sweet, sweet pucker against his thick hilt. Grinding in slow, sultry gyrations upwards like he still wanted to stuff you with more, more, more- 

“I-I can can cum inside?” Forehead beading with sweat, lower lip wobbling with the sheer effort that it took to merely hold back the way that his achingly hard cock was straining for release once more. Hissing at the almost sizzling drag of precum down your bulging g-spot. “For my first time? Inside? R-really inside?”

And despite the way that he was so patiently waiting for your answer, Choso couldn’t help the way the greedy curve of his thumb swipes down your peaked clit. Rolling in lazy circles - low, and slow to make your gummy walls clench in that particular way he’s slowly gotten addicted to. 

You’re nodding with a smug smile at how pretty he looked all fucked-out like this. Darkened eyes all droopy and half-lidded like he was blinking through syrup, muscles twitching mouth-wateringly, hair browner than usual with his sweat-dampened streaks. You can’t help but wring your fingers through his locks and tug, in a way that makes him hiss. In a way that makes him gasp. 

In a way that has him spurting out a thicker stream of precum into your gooey cunt - close. So close. “Mhm– let it a-all out inside, baby.”

Oh god, and then he does-

He does and Choso’s sure he sees the pearly gates of heaven right then and there, and he knows you’re his very own angel.

“Move your pretty fingers, baby– I wan’ you to t-take it all-” It’s not even mean the way he swats away one of your hands subconsciously cupping your split pussy - it’s just desperate. So that he can place pound after filthy pound to fuck you into the soaked sheets. 

Whining out, “Yeah please- fuck-”  Snapping his flexible body down until you were folded helplessly in half, every languid second is spent with such velvety ropes of cum being stuffed down to the bottom of your pussy. “Wan’ this forever- forever please-” Thick, stringy wads that stick and slide down your walls - that overspills when it’s too much for your snug channel to take. “W-want this…”

And just one look of his greedy gazy downwards And Choso’s gasping like he couldn’t even believe he could cum this much - couldn’t even believe he could stop at this point.

“Marry me-” he’s sputtering, eyes clearer with the sudden idea. As if he’s imagining it already. Hips shifting to lazy down his sloppy staccato into something more thorough. “B-be my wife- have my kids- please-” Something that has your toes curling with pleasure, branding every ridge and thumping vein down his shaft into your walls contorting around him. Hiccuping - little sobs curling at the back of his throat, “Please- please I need you to marry me-” 

It’s overspilling - adding to that little milky pool from below. He’s barely even thinking before swiping a hand through some of those creamy remnants of cum. Sucking. Taking your own - popping that ring finger of yours into his mouth.

Drool drips down the side of his sodden lips, moving to mewl softly. “D-did that really just happen?”

The words come out nothing but a whisper, strangled and strained from the very depths of his rumbling chest. And Choso’s peering down at you like you were everything - his softening cock sending sparks down his spine with every slight rub down your sopping wet folds. 

“Mhm–” your hands make their way down his pecs, rubbing over pert, pink nipples. Something that makes him let out a low shudder, reddened divot bursting in a few more wispy strings of seed. “N’ you did so hngh- good, Cho.”

“D-did I? Was I your oh- good boy?” he stutters, before letting out a keening pout. “B-but I need to have you cum, too, baby- need to have you cum-” And you’re so at his ravenous mercy when Choso swipes a wet thumb over and over down your throbbing clit. “-and then- then can we get married?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - MESS!

“What the fuck-” The king of curses breathes - he heaves - like never before, even in that human form of his right now. “Wh-what the fuck have you done to me, woman-”

And all the foes in the world had nothing against your honeyed whines. Absolutely no match for the way your elastic walls were clinging around his throbbing cock so tight. No match for your cockdrunk babbling that drove him insane.

“Such a filthy mouth you h-have-” he groans, leering over his inhumanly powerful body to bend over yours. You’re gaping when one of his big, beefy arms jostle you upwards into a headlock. Even shapeshifted from his true form, he was still so strong. Spitting, “Do you dare to- fuck- move those pretty lips of yours n’ repeat those words back to me, brat.”

As if you could do anything else. 

“I-I said-” you’re choking out, panting in feverish gasps of the heady air. “-said I want you to c-cum inside-”

Oh. 

In a split-second, you’re feeling your tautly stretched walls expand to limits you weren’t even sure were possible. The very bottom of your pussy being ravaged with two circular brandings - two. Two matching rock-hard cocks jostling around you. 

And the stretch of Sukuna’s devilishly true form opening your cunt to its very limits is so maddening that it takes you a second to realize that the rest of him had shapeshifted, too. 

Suddenly bigger, suddenly more towering, suddenly the king of curses. 

His strong forearm curls even tighter around your throat, knocking the remaining gasps out of your lungs. “Seriously? L-look where talking outta ya slutty pussy hah- got me-” Sukuna chuckles. Deep and rumbling from his bulging pecs, “-c-can’t even hold a n-normal form- you made me do this- fuck-”

He was fucking you like it was your fault.

Solid inches upon inches that were bruising. And if you thought that Sukuna’s size was staggering in whatever human form he’d conjured up for the safety of your poor pussy - it was absolutely incredible with both his twin girthy cocks. Bigger, thicker. The slightest ruts and grinds into your gushing cunt having him knocking into your lungs, painting down a hefty load of steamy precum. 

Messy.

“Messy-” you hear a primal rumble from above you. Shit, did you say that out loud? Condensed breath heady and hot against your ear, “Heheh- you think this is m-messy, lil’ human? Wait until I-I- hah-”

“Y-you’re really gonna cum inside, Kuna?” you’re batting your teary lashes up at your king, a delirious smile smearing itself all over your face. 

Wobbling when his snapping hips purposefully slow down to mere gyrating squelches, every push and pull feeding your slobbery pussy languidly. You have him hypnotized, maw slacking open with every lazy drag of his heavy cocks back and forth back and forth back and- “Mhm- gonna fill ya up. Breed ya u-until you’re begging that ya can’t take it. Until y-you’re all round n’ glowing with my heirs.”

God. He was out of control.

“I-I can take it-” Your nails rake airily down his ever-tightening forearm - nothing but mere kitten scratches to Sukuna. “Promise Kuna- I can-”

“Tch- this damn naughty m-mouth of yours.” he smirks in a sleazy way - just about all that Sukuna can do to not let his voice break out in whimpers right now. All he can do to hold back his building high, curvaceous tips of his thickened cocks spazzing out tight, voluminous globs of wispy white. He’s covering your prattling mouth with one hand, “Take it then- take it- but ya better make an equal mess f’me. Heh-”

Even through your bleary mind, you already knew what he wanted - to have you squirt all down Sukuna’s weepy cocks. To make a mess. 

Always his favorite.

“Th-think ya can do that?” He snarls down at you, twiddling a few sopping wet digits to toy with your pulsing clit. Third and fourth arms snaking around your waist to keep from your pathetic scrambling. To stop your escape when his hips jackhammer away harder. “Can you- my queen?”

Oh, he cuts himself off with a whimper.

Because all of a sudden your gushing cunt is surging out in waves of translucent slick. It sticks to his rubbing cocks - and all the way to his washboard abs -like a gloss, stars behind your eyes when Sukuna’s fucking you through your high. Praises slipping out in a way that would’ve tarnished the king’s reputation if anyone found out.

But right now, he didn’t care. 

Not when he’s all but bursting from his bawling tips - such thick rivers of cum that knock mercilessly into your gummy spots. The force of both his fat heads streaming out relentlessly is enough to leave your forbidden sweet spots all bruised and battered. 

Inflating your snug channel until Sukuna only had to slide a hand down to about halfway down your abdomen, pressing down at that nudge. “Heh, s’right at h-home-” 

And now that he’s filled your pretty pussy with seed, Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t think it’s possible to cum anywhere else. With a shuddering hiss, he’s dragging his cocks out, spying down with hooded eyes at the way your sloppy entrance was molding and constrictign around him - like you were trying to milk the fucking soul out of him.

But Sukuna had other plans - plans that included letting his second tongue loll out, rough tastebuds sweeping a long lick down your leaky slit. Creamy cum trickling down the pinkish muscle, and he could feel his mouth grinning. Something he’s been wanting to do since he moment he fucking saw you.

“H-hey-” you’re turning your head to huff back at him. 

Smack!

“Ahh, stop yer whining-” Sukuna’s smoothing one hand down over the raised bumps of all five digits on your ass, another one of his hands guiding his fat bases to drive up your sopping crease. Pooling the milky remnants on his rotund tips. “-because m’not done breeding this cunt properly yet, my queen.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Limit(less)

“This time-” Gojo’s heaving out a dragging shudder, his face burying hotly within the tender crook of your neck. Spitting - panting, “This time this time- this- time-”

Oh, it’s been just about the same thing that he’s been babbling for the past few hours now. All that he can utter after so long of his sensitively overworked cock stuffing in and out over your overspilling cunt, flickers of jujutsu bolting with every sodden drag down your melty walls.

Truly, the strongest didn’t expect to be addicted the first time he filled your drooling pussy with thick globs of his seed - it was an accident, the first trial of trying to use limitless for its…unintended purposes. 

But right now, Gojo had absolutely no clue if this was the nth trial or whether he was simply addicted to breeding your pretty cunt.

“T-Toru–” Your fingers scramble backwards to bury in his snow locks - difficult, with the way that your boyfriend was wrangling you into a tight full nelson. Feeling the push and pull of thick cursed technique in the air - inside you. “-s’not gonna work.”

God, just the sear of your grip on his scalp is enough to have Gojo’s hips rutting up in a perfect curve off the plush king-size mattress. Fucking up into your cunt so thoroughly that you gasp at the syrupy slosh of his cum from before inside you. 

His hiccups, voice cracking into a whine at the very end. “D-do you hate me, sweetheart?”

“No?” you’re breathing out in exasperation. But shit, you underestimate just how crazed this tiniest sentiment would drive him, choking back a strangled cry of your name when he’s sending a buzzing smack! down to the hood of your plump cunt. “Fuck- why would you think-”

“Th-then let me use limitless as a- hah- condom, pretty girl-” he’s whining. And you jolt at the wet splatters of a few stimulated, pearlescent tears slipping their way out of Gojo’s eyes. “It’ll work- this time- m’the strongest- s’gonna hah- w-work- a-and if not m’jus’ breedin’ my girl’s cute cunt, r-right?”

But even as he’s prattling on and on about this, you’re feeling the flickering falter of jujutsu around Gojo’s hefty girth. Molding your gummy walls taut around his fat circumference, your spine arches with electricity. 

“Heheh-” Goosebumps prickle down your spine at the high, humorless bout of laughter at your ear - and you crane your head to look at Gojo. Sure that he’s lost it. Already wondering just how high the kill count would be. “-didn’t think th-this pretty pussy of yours would have me so ruined, sweetheart.”

And truly - he sounded like it. 

He looked like it, with his rosy lips ajar, those cerulean eyes watery and half-lidded. Glowing with power and tiny shivers of lighting at every sodden kiss to the bullseye of your g-spot. Clashing over and over in a wet push and pull, Gojo thinks that he could almost feel the rotund indentations of his curved tip right on your sweetest spots. 

“Looks like y-you’re the one ruining me- Toru-” you whine. “Just look-”

Drunkenly, Gojo’s lolling his head to the sound of your voice. Not even looking, barely even thinking - that is, until he sees.

And Gojo can’t help but let out a slew of honeyed, pathetically cracking profanities at the heavenly sight below. Pale forearms stretching out your trembly thighs even more shamefully wide to get an even closer look. 

Of your quivering hole winking up at him glisteningly, coating his fat hilt a creamy ring of white from so many of his failed attempts. Your saturatedly wet pussy lips were practically gulping up all of his heavy inches, slobbering a slow trail of drool down the side of his strawberry pink shaft and onto his twitchy balls. Needy. 

And if Gojo’s limitless protection was unsteady before then-

“Shit-” Gojo takes in a shuddering gasp, slender digits falling down to plant a wet smack! on the very middle of your bulging slit - as if all of this was your fault. “Shit shit shit shit- I-I can’t- oh-” Sharp canines sinking down so hard into your skin that you think he might break through. Just about all that’s keeping Gojo tethered to reality when his limitless shatters. “Oh god. Th-think s’gonna be another b-baby…”

All the way into a zillion pieces of nothingness and-

And then he’s cumming. 

Cumming so hard that the dim lamps by the side of your bed flickers. Then explodes. 

Pouring out such steaming hot piles of his cum - once. Twice. Before his swollen, overwhelmed balls are clenching and then he’s shooting nothing but pathetic blanks. 

It takes you a second to register the sudden darkness - all across Tokyo, in fact. You’re gasping, “O-oh, Toru did you-”

“Run out-” he’s giggling. Giggling. “Fuck you m-made me- hah- really milked me dry, didn’t ya- Spread those pretty legs a bit more, pretty girl. Let me see.” All five rounded pads of his fingers are bruising on your thigh when Gojo’s splaying them out to confirm the sputtering way his cock was driving into you. “Can’t- can’t believe- no way, baby m’supposed t-to fill you up-”

Shit, he was babbling out his true intentions so stupidly. But luck was on his side, because with a final, jujutsu-sheened swat at your cunt, the buzzing power finally sends you over the edge. 

Crashing headfirst into waves upon waves of white-hot pleasure, the engulfing goodness made you squeal. And it made Gojo grit his teeth with a low whimper at the way the simple clenching convulse of your gripping walls wrapped around his cock made him twitch in another dry orgasm. Another. And another. 

God, his first - well, not quite first - time cumming inside you and he’s already so fucked out.

Yet, despite it all, Gojo could almost count it a success…almost. 

“S-sweetheart, y’know Yaga always taught us that science experiments have hah- twenty-five trials, right?”

“...”

A/N. Gojo’s so annoying I love him.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[donnerpartyofone]

I just had the misfortune of seeing that 100k post where someone is commanding Twitter migrants to reblog all the fan art they see, on the premise that if an artist has a reblog:like ratio of 1/50 or something then they'll be so discouraged that they'll quit. OP then reblogs their own post to say that there's someone who sometimes reblogs the first post 200 times a day--which like, my reaction to that was "wow that's completely unhinged and not good", but what OP meant was that we should all cater to whatever that person wants to make them happy. I generally don't see the point in yelling at strangers on the internet, but I really had to restrain myself from pointing out that this was the stated motivation on the Staff post about fucking with the chronological feed: that if we all have too much power to curate what we see, then some users will feel unpopular. Which is like, completely normal and acceptable, in reality. There are just so many problems with this attitude:

Nobody owes you attention. Most people don't enjoy random waves of applause just for existing, and most of us have learned to live with this and place importance on things other then validation from strangers.

If your principle reason for making art is NOT the art-making itself, and if you know that you would stop making art if it never got you some form of fame and fortune, then you should literally stop making art. Just stop right now, and find something to do that is more rewarding and less psychologically perilous for you.

If you have ever tried to work in any creative industry at all, then you should know that it can take absolutely forever to get good at something. And it might never happen. And even if it does happen and you turn out to be a genius, still, people might not notice or care--especially if you're really original. There's a reason it's become cliche for people to remind each other of how famous writer X wasn't published until he was 50 or famous painter Y only became important posthumously. If you can't take the heat, see above.

If you're just begging your personal friends to help circulate your work, that's between you and them. But you can't order people who just got to this platform five minutes ago to fill up their accounts with stuff that maybe they like enough to hit the like button, but they don't like it enough to add it to their own page. People are allowed to like your art on a limited basis.

If you're so emotionally dependent on popularity that you think its acceptable to strong-arm strangers into shilling for you, then you should probably take some time to get to know yourself better and figure that out, before you rake yourself over the coals of social media conflict about it. I used to have a mutual (not an artist, just a guy) who had really serious behavioral problems in this department: One day I reblogged a very popular post that had been making the rounds, and suddenly this guy was up my ass with righteous anger about why I didn't reblog it from him personally. I actually took the time to explain that the post itself was doing a lot of traffic, I had no idea that he was one of the thousands of people who had reblogged it, and I can't bother to go combing through his blog every time I see something I like just in case I can reblog it from him individually. Incredibly, he didn't even get what I was saying, he was so invested in the idea that I should conscientiously use my blog to pay tribute to him, and eventually I had to block him for being rude like this all the time, and he was really sad about it. Don't be like that guy.

And finally, the post I'm referring to counted as art things like gif sets and "edits" (a vague concept I think barely counts as creative work but whatever) from TV shows and all kinds of other fan posts. And like, that is just a bridge too far. I shouldn't even have to explain why. And I won't.

[ginki]

Home Is Inside You┊ ┊┊ Nanami Kento

Mature content. Minors do not interact.

⚘ Pairing: Nanami x fem!reader (established relationship)

⚘ Genre: Smut

⚘ Word count: 2.7k

⚘ Content warnings: marriage kink, domesticity kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie

⚘ A/N: My first smut piece on here let's goooo!! My wife kink is going brrr so hard rn so please join me. And, of course, let me know if you enjoyed!

“See something you like?” He murmurs as he catches your eyes in the mirror. His lips quirk up as he watches you prop yourself up on the bed, naked, watching him.

You hum. “Always.”

He chuckles and it sounds like drums- like a deep and lustrous melody. It makes you smile.

Kento notices your face turn from playful to hungry as he slowly takes off his tie, then his holster, observing your reaction as you follow his hands when they roam over the leather straps and unfasten them. When he leans over to gently set his weapon against the wall, your eyes rake over the curve of his ass. You watch him slowly, tantalizingly, unbutton his shirt but you don’t complain, mesmerized by his every move. He’s forced to look away as he kneels on the ground to undo his sock garters and slip his socks off. It was stupid how much you liked those things. When he stands, he immediately looks in the mirror for your face and you make eye contact. You look up at him through heavy lashes, eyes immediately darting away and cheeks flushing. Before you came into his life he would have been embarrassed by something like this but these days he relishes seeing you openly desire him. With you by his side, there’s never a reason for him to be strained in his confidence.

“Don’t look away,” he mumbles. The sudden sound in the once silent room shocks you and brings your attention back to him.

There's a thick and sticky tension steadily building in the room as he pulls the zipper of his slacks down and hooks his thumbs under the edges of his pants and boxer briefs. Your rough sigh fills the room as you watch his dick slightly bob from the release of the underwear. The last bit of his clothing hits the floor and he steps out of the pile, cooly making his way to join you on the bed. You roll onto your back and reach up to cradle his face as he bends down to kiss you, effectively caging you with his arms and legs. It's muscle memory now- the way you two dance around each other, always hungry and always waiting.

The kiss is passionate. Kento is a disciplined man and he has learned how to take his time with you, how to build up your pleasure to its peak. He pours his love and desire into your mouth as his tongue finds yours. You can feel the skin at his temples pull taunt, a sign that his eyebrows are furrowed. The thought makes you chuckle.

He pulls back, the expression you had pictured him in taking form in real life.

“What?”

“Always so serious,” you tease him, giggling as his forehead wrinkles even further.

“Should I not be?”

“Not what I meant,” you mummer against his lips as you kiss him again. You try to return his passion, tugging on his lip with your teeth as you pull away. “Just think it’s cute. You’re a serious man. Always focused,” you mumble, running the flat of your palms down his neck and his chest. “One of the many reasons I love you.”

“Love you too,” he mumbles back, a shudder running through his body as he leans in to catch your lips.

This was one of your favorite parts of the whole thing. His lips were trying to consume you and at the same time pour himself into you. When you lean up to press into the kiss harder, he always comes back with double force, forcing your head down into the pillows. It’s a small power play, a show of his strength, that always gets your head spinning. You run your hands back up his chest, to his shoulders, down his arms, basking in the way his breathing picks up. It pulls you two apart, both panting for air before getting lost in each other again. You could stay like that forever, drinking him, but he has other plans.

He leaves open mouthed kisses down your neck, light, breathing teasing against your skin. As he moves lower to your breasts, you feel a strong hand slide from your knee to your inner thigh. Instinct and desire take over naturally and invite him in. It's lovely for him: being able to know you like this and having you spread underneath him. He knows just what to do to mold you to him, to have you melting in his hand. Once your legs are spread, he makes himself comfortable between them, the heat from your core already radiating over his abdomen, and your legs enterwine with his, fitting together like puzzle pieces.

The hand previously on your thigh finds its way back to your hip and then up, a calloused hand coming to join his mouth on your chest. His mouth works on one, kissing underneath and nipping before his lips fully wrap around your nipple and suck hard, teeth grazing the bud. You arch into him and moan as his hand mimics the actions, looking down at him as his mouth moves on to give attention where his hand had previously been. Ludely, he sticks his tongue out to lap at the nipple, licking in an unbroken circle around the bud. Your thighs tighten around his hips and you vaguely think about how lucky you are to see this.

As he focuses his mouth on your chest, his hand travels back down, gliding over your ribs, then your stomach, finally coming to cup your pussy.

“You’re burning up down here,” he whispers as he places kisses just below your ear and down your neck.

You whine in response. In return, his middle finger, once resting between the lips of your pussy, pushes deeper and grazes your hole. You rock your hips into his hand to no avail.

“Such a pretty girl,” he mummers against your neck, his tousled hair tickling your collarbone. “So needy. Already so wet for me.”

“Want you,” you plead. “Wanted you all day,” you gasp as he slips a finger inside you. You stutter out your next sentence. “Always want you.”

He moans deep in his chest, the sensation rattling you and making you clench on empty air as he pulls his finger out far too soon.

“Want you too. But I know you’ve had a long week. Know how much your back hurts.”

You sigh dejectedly. You’d been on your feet all day at work for the past week and it was killing your back. Not to mention, you had made Nanami unaware of this fact and he went rough on you a couple of nights ago. That certainly has not helped your case. A twinge of guilt runs through you remembering the stress he’d felt over hurting you.

“I know,” you pout. “I hate it. I just wanna feel you.”

“I want you to rest.” He comes up from your neck to look at your face. “I want you to relax. Enjoy yourself. I’ll give you what you need.”

His words are confusing enough but your eyebrows crease deeply as he leans over to grab something from under the bed. Only when he comes up with your rabbit vibrator do the dots connect.

“You like this thing quite a bit, don’t you?” There’s a teasing tone in his voice again.

You nod hesitantly. You feel your walls clench as he presses down the button to turn it on, the familiar buzz letting you know it was ready.

“I’ll use this tonight and watch you fall apart under me. I can observe your reactions better when I’m not pounding into you.”

His filthy words make you whine and clench your thighs around his hips again. There was always a point in Kento’s desire where he would tell you anything to get you riled up. It was like a game for him. He wanted to see what flustered you, what got you soaking before he even did anything. He found out a long time ago that your weak point was his voice.

He cages you in again, supporting his weight on one forearm and using the other hand to press the vibrator to your clit. You moan at the mixture of contact and the heat and tautness of Kento’s body surrounding yours.

“So pretty,” he whispers, lavishing the other side of your neck with licks, bites, and kisses. “So good for me. Tell me what you were thinking about today.”

Tell me why you want me.

“Was thinking,” you start after a minute, your head a bit jumbled from concentrating on the vibrator. “Was thinking about your suit. How you look so normal. So normal until you take it off.” Your hips stutter as you recall the fantasy you had that day. “And when you- when you take it off you have your weapon. And those fucking leather straps.”

You arch into him, body begging for more pressure, more attention. You’ve been pent up all day and now it’s going to your head. You throw your head back and close your eyes as you recall.

“God,” you gnash out. “When I see that thing. It makes me think of how precise you are. So strong. So good at what you do. A record breaker. And then you have to take it off to fuck me. Hang up work and have you all to myself. And when you came home, that’s exactly what you did.”

You let out a small cry as he starts to run the vibrator in tight circles on your clit. He moans in response. You think the world of him and it turns him on more than anything. He wants to be the only one that can please you like this. You’re always ready to praise him for ravishing you and it sends desire right through him whenever he thinks about it. Knowing you still fantasize about him even after all this time makes him hot. His body feels like it’s on fire with every sentence. He’s barely even touched you, has no hands on you at the moment, and you're a moaning, desperate mess for him. It makes him dizzy.

“Keep going,” he pants out, hips starting to rut into the bed.

You can feel his hips moving over yours and makes you nearly delirious. You’re panting hard as you reach out to cup his face.

“You’re so gorgeous, Kento. Everything about you. I love your eyes and your nose. I love messing up your hair when you get home. Love seeing it fall in your face. Love your body and your cock," you throw your head back again thinking about him filling you. “It fits me so well.” You come back to look at him, hoping to make an impact with your next sentence:

“I’m so lucky to have you, my beautiful husband.”

Husband. Hearing you call him that is like a siren call. He knows he promised you an easy night but heaven have mercy; he wanted nothing more to bury himself inside your cunt. The strangled groan he releases has you aching and soaking the sheets. He can barely keep ahold of the vibrator with how wet you’ve made it.

“Kento,” you moan out his name, a plea in and of itself.

“Fuck,” he bites out, rutting harder into the bed. “You’re breathtaking. Want to feel you cum on me. That okay? Won’t move. Just,” his words shake as his thrusts stutter. “Just need to feel you.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you beg, wanting so badly to be filled. “‘Yes, please, baby. Wanna feel you before I cum.”

You whine as he drags his middle and pointer fingers up your pussy, gathering your fluid and smearing it on his cock. You take the vibrator over for him.

“I don’t think you need lube this time. You’re dripping down here.”

He quickly grabs his cock and lines up with you, wasting no time sinking into you. He slips in easier than usual, especially with no lube. It brings him a leap closer to the edge knowing you haven’t been this wet in a while and what did it for you was talking about him. Your cunt wraps round him like a vice grip, begging to take him in more. It’s almost searing to be in your walls and he briefly thinks he’ll never get enough of you. The way you full-body moan every time he enters you has his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Fuck, yes, baby. So good for me. So perfect for me,” you babble almost senselessly. “You fit in me so well. Fill me up so good. So fucking perfect for me. Like your cock was made for me. My pretty cock, right? My husband’s pretty cock just for me. And this pretty pussy just for you.”

His chest heaves with restraint. He wants to fuck you until you can’t talk anymore, until you can only beg and say his name. He wants to claim you, own you. His pretty wife. But he won’t- not tonight. He’s not going to hurt you.

“Please move. Fuck me, please. I’m almost there.” The vibrator that’s still sloppily on your clit is pushing you to oblivion. “Cum with me, Nana.”

Of course, you always have a trick up your sleeve: a magical hold over his will power. Many nights of trial and error have given you knowledge on how to make him crumble. His trick is that he knows how you like it and what pushes you over the edge. He fucks you fast but more shallow than usual, taking care not to hurt your back more. You roll your head and cry out as he fucks you just like you need, walls tightening even harder around him as you cream on his cock. He’s amazed how much acknowledging your marriage turned you on. He’d have to tuck that away for later.

Right now, he needs you to cum. He’s almost there himself.

“Like that? That good?”

“Just like that. Yes, yes, just like that.”

His heart swells with love and pride when you open your dazed and bleary eyes to look at him, hands gripping the back of his thighs, legs shaking around him.

“My man,” you whisper. “My husband.”

“Yours. All yours,” he huffs out. “Just like you’re mine, my beautiful wife.”

You were right there. One right touch, one right word until it all unraveled.

“Gonna claim you. Fill you up so you can’t forget me,” he states as he lifts your leg to kiss your calf.

There it is.

“Oh, fuck, Kento. I’m gonna cum, please. Please don’t stop. Ah, I -”

It’ll burn into his memory forever the way you scream his name as you cum on him and squirm just right against his length. Your cunt is almost suffocating. The shaking of your legs is proof of his success. The nails marks in his legs are a trophy to look at later. You feel divine fluttering around him and he cums almost violently with a few more thrusts into your twitching body, hips continuing until he’s left everything inside of you.

He rubs your thighs as you both come down, bending down to kiss your knees.

“You okay, angel?” Concern laces his voice.

“Better than okay,” you respond a bit hoarsely.

His smile matches yours when you peek out from under the arm you threw across your eyes. He pulls out of you slowly and you both sigh. He’s made a mess of you and you off him. His cock is smeared in white and your pussy is dripping onto the bed. Oh, yeah. He’ll definitely remember that for later.

“Are you hurt? Do you think you can walk?”

You hesitate. “Definitely not hurting but I don’t know if I can walk.”

“S’okay. I’ll carry you. Need to shower.”

You scrunch your nose. “Yeah. I’m definitely disgusting.”

He laughs softly as he lays down on the bed next to you. He kisses your cheeks so gently and his words are so soft it makes your heart flutter.

“Just give me a minute.”

“No problem,” you kiss him gently as you intertwine your hands together, rings clinking together. “Thank you for that.”

“No, no. Thank you for indulging me.”

You laugh lightly at his goofy, sleepy face. “Any time, Nana.”

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

John Munch / Simple

Prompt: “Suck it” “oh i’m gonna suck something” 

Word Count: 3,887 

Warnings: canon typical situations and violence, discussion of rape (non-graphic), hurt/comfort apparently, fin and munch are literally some of my fav characters to write for lmao, some discussion of the psych evals from 1x22

A/N: what is this? how did this happen? I don’t know - i blame @laneygthememequeen​ mostly, but also my friends for enabling me beyond belief lmao. 

“Am I allowed to come in or must I bow and show my allegiance before I am deemed worthy?” and you didn’t need to look up from your desk to know who it was. Your pen still moved, scribbling notes in the margins of the answer that was given to you by Roger Klessler — more hassle than law. 

“No need for allegiance, Detective Munch — I know you only give that to your squad and your string of conspiracy theories,” you finish with the page, sparing him a glance, “only compliance is needed — the one thing you didn’t do on the last case.” 

“Your hands aren’t exactly clean yourself, counselor,” he shuts the door behind him, slipping his hands into his pockets, “what did you do to get that warrant again?” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Are you questioning my integrity?” 

“Funny, I didn’t know lawyers had any,” 

“They don’t, but I can try, can’t I?” you lean on your elbow, “what do you need?” 

“We have a suspect in holding who just invoked, we thought they might be a little more conducive to having an A.D.A. in the box with them,” he tilted his head. 

“Alex isn’t available?” 

“Alex told us to get you,” you held in your sigh, “don’t you lawyers talk to each other?” 

“No, we communicate through telepathy,” you reply drily, grabbing your coat and bag, “Let’s go.” 

~~~

“Counselor, you should remind your client that his options are running out,” to say this meeting was going poorly would have been the understatement of the century, “and my patience is running thin.”

A serial child and women abuser — with videos abusing so many children and women over the last twenty years, videos that made your stomach turn — and to make matters worse, he had made into a business, selling these children and women and their pain for profit — and now it was time to make his pain your profit. 

“You have no evidenc—” 

“We have a witness who saw your client, we have his DNA being run against the blood that was found at the scene, and when it comes back it will match and your client will be facing life in prison—” your teeth grit,  “And I’ll be sure he gets it. Or, give up your sick buddies. And maybe you’ll have the possibility of parole in the far off future.” 

“You fucking bitch—” he spits at you. 

“Is that the best you can do?” you raise an eyebrow, as you see Munch tense out of the corner of your eye, “Mr. Bradford,  I’m not scared of you. I’m not a defenseless child or battered woman you can intimidate—” you cross your arms, “not so easy picking on someone who can fight back, is it?” 

 Bradford lunges,  but Munch shoves him back into his chair, “Do we need to add assault on an A.D.A. to your laundry list of charges, Bradford?” and you blink, slack jawed, a shiver going down your spine — if Munch was a second later— “Try that again and I’ll have you—” 

There’s a knock on the window, and your eyes snap over, “Control your client, counselor, or I’ll have him locked up in solitary,” your jaw is set — you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing you waver, “the offer had 24 hours — it now has an expiration date in ten, so look forward to hearing from you in one.” 

The door shuts behind you, your fingers white knuckling the handle of your briefcase. Liv frowns, “Are you—” 

“I’m fine,” you wave them off, as Munch emerges from the room as well, “tell me when he caves to my offer. And when you’re setting up the sting to get the other guys — I want to be there to make everything go smoothly. No screw ups this time.” 

“All due respect, counselor, but we don’t need a babysitter,” Fin says. 

“All due respect, Detective, maybe you do,” you swallow the lump sitting on your throat, “we need to nail these guys — we have all of New York, 1PP, and the D.A.’s office all breathing down our necks — it needs to be airtight,” you scan all of their faces, “unless all of you would like to take the heat?” 

“I don’t think any of us want that, counselor,” Cragen cuts in, “we appreciate your help. We’ll let you know when we decide to go ahead with the sting.” 

You nod curtly, intent on leaving the precinct as quickly as you could — the image of Bradford lunging at you still fresh and stinging — but nothing was that easy, “Counselor,” Munch was at your side, standing beside you at the elevators, as you pressed the button, “in a rush?” 

“To go home? Yes,” 

“I just wanted—” 

“Wanted what, Munch? What do you want?” you sigh exasperatedly, fighting a losing battle for your voice not to break, “I’m not in the mood for a verbal sparring match, so why don’t we take a rain check?” 

The elevator doors ding, and you step in, hoping to spare yourself the agony of a response, but he follows, the doors shutting behind him. 

But surprisingly his voice was soft,  “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” 

“I’m fine,” you cross your arms, hoping that it would hold you together, until you got to your office, “I’m not scared of him, Munch—” 

“I know you could kick his ass, counselor, I’m not asking you if you’re ready to go seven rounds in the ring with him—” he leans against the wall of the elevator, “I’m just asking if you’re alright.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “John Munch asking me if I’m alright? No sarcastic remark?” 

“I know, I’m surprised myself, I might have to ask Skoda to do a psych eval on me,” and you crack a smile, shaking your head. 

“It was scary,” you admit, something you didn’t want to, “I’ve been threatened before — messages, verbally, even had a guy say he would kill my family—” you bite your lip, “but I never had someone try something, physically before.” 

“It’s okay to have been scared, y’know,” the elevator doors ding, and you step out, shaking your head, “no one expects you to be strong all the time, counselor.” 

And you pause, looking back at him, “But I do,” you blink away the tears, “good night, detective.” 

~~~

“It’s too risky!” you ignore Munch, continuing to fix your makeup, “You saw how you acted when Bradford lunged at you — why—” 

“I would do anything to make sure these men get put away,” you finish your makeup, grabbing the outfit Liv had handed you, “and that includes this.” 

This being an undercover operation designed to get names of victims, ages, and dates if possible, before arresting the group for exchanging pictures and videos of their crimes. 

“Putting yourself in the middle of this chaos? You’re being reckless—” 

You slide past him and into a bathroom stall, “I know what I’m doing,” 

“Do you? Do you know how many things could go wrong?” he continues, “I could list them for you for posterity — assault, battery, rape, and let’s not forget murder—” 

“I don’t think Liv will let me get murdered when she’s in the room with me, and I would you, Fin, Stabler, and the Captain wouldn’t either—” 

“Things go wrong on these ops, counselor — the field isn’t as safe as a courtroom — court officers, a metal detector right outside—” 

His words fail when the door swings open, a skin tight bodysuit clung to your figure, crimson, just as his ears nearly were, his eyes raking over your outfit, before finding their way back to your raised brows, “You were saying?” 

He stumbles over his words, “I was saying that—” you cross your arms, waiting and he finds himself distracted all over again, before he shakes himself from his stupor, “I was saying that this is too dangerous—” 

“Munch—” you cut him off, “I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I’m going to nail these guys anyway I can, so you can’t change my mind,” your hand finds his shoulder, squeezing, “but I can count on you to have my back right?” 

He simmers, sighing, his eyes softening, “Of course,” and you squeeze his shoulder, and he calls after you as you head towards the squadroom,  “I just hope they taught you taekwondo in law school,” 

“And I hope you know by ‘having my back,’ I meant more than my ass,” you flash him a smile over your shoulder, shaking your head, and flexing your fingers. 

It would be fine. 

You would be fine. 

~~~

It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t find you. 

“Where is he? Where is that son of a bitch, he took—” 

“Munch, calm down,” Liv starts, and he’s shaking his head, his finger in his face. 

“You were supposed to watch them, you were supposed to—” 

“Hey, Munch,” Elliot cuts between him and his partner, his hand on his shoulder,  “we all were there, Bradford slipped out during the raid, there wasn’t anything we could do. We’re going to find them.” 

Munch brushes him away, finding Fin, “Where are we on Bradford?” 

“Got him sneaking out during the takedown,” Fin points you out in the crowd, “looks like he had a knife pressed against counselor’s back, just out of view.” 

“How the hell did that scum sucking, gangrenous low life of a—” 

“Looks like he stole it off one of his buddies he was setting up,” Fin rewinds the tape, and points it out, “lifts it right from his pocket.” 

“Where does he go?” Fin fast forwards, until he gets to the cameras outside, shooting from the van itself. 

“He steals a car down the street, must belong to that brownstone,” Fin shoves the equipment at another officer, “Let’s get the license plate and get a bolo out.” 

Liv and Elliot join the two of them, handing a report to Fin, “We got a list of places that Bradford was known to hang out at—” 

“What are we waiting for?” Munch brushes past them to the car, rounding the car to the driver’s seat, pulling it open, before Fin stops him. 

“I’m driving,” Fin says, holding his hand, and Munch opens his mouth to rebut, “do we really have time to argue right now?” 

Munch glares at him, before handing him the keys, “You better not abide by any traffic laws,” 

“Do I ever?” 

~~~

“Can we go any faster than this? I swear my great uncle could drive faster than this,” Munch expects his partner to be angry, but he’s only sighing and shaking his head, “what?” 

And Fin side eyes him, “If you’re in love with—” 

Munch gapes at him, “I’m not—” 

“--then why don’t you just say something, man?” Fin scoffs, “you can deny it all you want, explain it away with one of your crazy ass conspiracy theories, but it’s there, John.” 

Munch pulls off his glasses, running his hand over his face, fingers resting right below his nose, “You know every time I got married, I thought I was in love,” 

“I know, and then your ex-wives screwed you — what about it?” 

“This is different,” he sighs, “and I don’t want to admit that to myself.” 

“What’s so bad about that, Munch? You want to try again,” and Munch is shaking his head. 

“You know a psychiatrist once told me that the reason all my marriages failed was because I chose women who were spoiled, beautiful, and not my intellectual equal?” 

“Meeting some of your ex-wives, I could believe that,” Fin’s eyes fall back to the road, “what’s your point?” 

Your name slips from his lips, “this is different — this is someone’s who's my equal — smarter than me, beautiful— it could — we could be—” he cuts off, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose--” and he cuts off, sighing, “I don’t know.” 

“Well that’s easy, John,” Fin pulls over, the car screeching as it does, “we won’t,” and he jerks his head, “whose car does that look like?” Munch calls in the car, unbuckling himself and slipping from the car, “We have to wait for back-up—” 

“I’m not waiting—” before he adds, “you don’t have to come—” 

“I’m not letting your bony ass get shot again,” Fin is already shutting the car door, pulling his gun out, “let’s go.” 

~~~

“Are you scared now?” Bradford asks, circling you — a predator gauging its prey — no, he was simply playing with you now. Your wrists flex against your restraints, the wood grain of the chair digging into your skin the more you struggled, the rope around your wrists ungiving, “are you, counselor?” 

It was rhetorical — judging by the tape stuck to your lips and the fact he continued to speak, and his fingers fist into your hair, pulling your head back, “Come on, no smart remarks now?”

Are you that stupid that you’ve forgotten that you taped my mouth over? 

No, wait he was that stupid. 

And he slaps you — the sting of his palm against your cheek dazes you a moment, and then his fist lands a blow in your stomach, choking on the same air you breathed, tears burning before slipping down your cheeks. 

“Do you think this is bad?” and now he’s holding your face between his fingers, nails digging into your cheeks, and he grins, a shiver going down your spine,  “just wait.” And he disappears a moment, his shadowy figure rifling through a bag on a table. 

Your eyes darted around, looking for something that could help you, something to help you escape, but nothing was within reach. Your chest squeezed — what if you died here? What if you never saw your family again? What if you never saw your friends again? What if they never found your body? Fear claws up your throat, eyes burning. 

What if they found your body? 

What if Munch found your body? 

You had promised him you’d be careful, but you were careless. You didn’t watch Bradford close enough, you didn’t stick with Liv, you were stupid — so stupid. 

And you wondered if he’d rape you before he was done — if they would find your body like so many victims that came across your desk. You wondered if he’d kill you at all — or just let you live with the memories of his torture. 

And you didn’t know what was worse. 

But then something clatters in the distance, and his head is whipping around, there are footsteps, and he’s grabbing a knife, cutting your restraints free,  “Come here bitch,” he mutters, hurrying to cut the ropes, at your feet before moving to the ones at your wrists,  “they aren’t taking me before I get a chance to slit your throat.” 

Blood roaring in your ears, you know you have to do something — he’s almost done cutting the last rope at your wrist. You couldn’t wait for help. 

You rear your head back, before smashing it into his, hard. His groan gets caught in his throat, as you lunge for the knife, the handle within grasp of your fingers, and you’re trying to crawl away, a deep ache in your skull. You’re stumbling to your feet, but his fingers close around your ankle. 

“I should have fucking killed you from the start,” and you kick him with your free foot, hearing him scream and the satisfying crack of his nose breaking, gripping the knife in your hand and pushing yourself to your feet. 

And you rip the tape from your mouth, “Get the fuck away from me!” you point the knife at him, heart pounding against your ribcage, as he lays clutching his bloody nose. 

But he’s still getting to his feet, “You better hand over that fucking knife—” 

“You better not take another step before I blow your brains out,” and suddenly Fin and Munch are there, Fin stepping forward to arrest Bradford, as Munch is beside you. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” and he’s trying to ease the knife out of your fingers, but you won’t let go, “let go of the knife, it’s okay,” he’s murmuring in your ear, slipping the knife from your fingers, “you’re okay. I got you.” 

Your knees are buckling, and he’s holding you, your head buried in his chest, “I thought he was going to—” 

“I know,” he says softly, “I know, but you’re okay.” 

“Because of you,” And he’s helping you up, and police sirens in the distance, as he helps you out of the building, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he whispers, “I’m sorry,” 

“For what?” and his arm around you squeezes you gently. 

“For not saving you sooner,” And suddenly EMS and police are flooding the scene, Fin is shoving Bradford into a car. And you spot him, glaring, but Munch steps between his view, his arm around your shoulders, “don’t bother with that scum. He’s not worth it.” 

And he wasn’t — you knew he wasn’t, but you know that you wouldn’t be able to prosecute him now. But, you craned your neck to watch him be taken away, you wanted to see the bastard get put away at least. 

It’s over, you tell yourself as you rest your head against Munch’s shoulder. 

It was over. 

~~~

“I just want to go home,” you shake your head, but he pulls you along regardless, protesting all the same.

“Just let them look at you, please?” he asks, “if only for my sanity.” 

And you scoff softly, “I thought you lost that a long time ago,” 

“There’s that wit,” he replies, and you go with him, fingers intertwined with his. E.M.S. examines you, insisting on taking you to the hospital for a possible concussion. But you don’t want to — you just want to sleep, you want to take a shower, you want to forget this ever happened— 

“Please just let me go,” you’re pleading with him, tears slipping down your cheeks, “John, please let me go home.” and he’s wavering for a moment, before his hand is on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down. 

“I can’t, and you know that, counselor,” he never wanted to see you cry like this, he never wanted to see you as a victim — because you aren’t just another victim at his desk or in photos spread across his desk — you were you. 

But you were also a victim now. 

“Why not?” you lie against the pillow in defeat, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he’s leaning down to your level, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Because you’re hurt, and you need to be seen. I don’t trust doctors as much as the next conspiracy nut, but you still need to see one,” he tilts his head, “do you want me to come?” 

And you’re blinking back tears, before nodding, “I’m sorry, I’m—” 

“Don’t apologize,” he’s wiping your tears away, “don’t ever apologize for this.” 

~~~

You don’t remember much else — it’s a blur of testing, until finally they let you sleep. And you don’t know how long you sleep. But you don’t dream, and for that much, you’re thankful. You awake to the low hum of hospital machinery, and quiet voices in the room. And you blink, the fluorescents much too bright for you, and your eyes flutter shut again, before not before voices creep in. 

“—been asleep?” 

“It’s been a few hours,” Munch whispers, assumedly trying to keep from waking you, but that was out of the question already, “docs gave something for sleep.” 

“Have you said anything yet?” and it’s Fin asking. 

“When? In between the ambulance ride here and the C.A.T. scan and the fifty other tests they ran?” Munch replies drily, sighing, “it’s not the right time,” 

“You know there’s never going to be a right time, John,” and you’re grateful that you’re turned away from them, your brow furrowed, their voices growing louder, “you have to say something or is counselor a mind reader now?” 

“Well—” 

“Don’t spout another conspiracy theory or you’ll be the one in the hospital bed,” you could almost see Fin crossing his arms. 

“You know that psychiatrist also told me I could make a conspiracy theory from a five-year-old’s lemonade stand,” 

Fin raises an eyebrow, “Well now that I believe,” 

“What am I supposed to say?” Munch asks, “‘hi, I know you almost just died, but I think I’m in love with you?’” 

And your eyes snap open, the air sucked straight from your lungs — “It can be that simple,” 

He was in love with you? John Munch was in love with you. Your heart squeezed at the thought — you hadn’t a clue that he was. You knew he cared — but you didn’t know he… loved you.  

“Nothing is ever that simple,” and you turn around, the words leaving your lips without a thought. 

“It can be, John,” and both him and Fin’s gazes snap to you, a small smile on your lips, “if you let it be.” 

Munch is staring at you slack jawed, while Fin is grinning, elbowing him, “I’ll leave you two alone,” before he adds, “remember that there is an officer at the door—” 

“Fin—” and he’s gone, disappearing out of the door, and Munch is wiping a hand down his face, his cheeks flushed red, “so how much of that—” 

“All of it,” and he’s covering his hands with his face, “for someone who claims to be so evolved, you’re very cute when you’re embarrassed,” 

“I’m cute?” he repeats, and you hold out your hand to him, and he’s staring a moment — as if he can’t believe it — before taking your hand, “how cute?” 

You snort, “Just cute enough, don’t go getting an ego,” 

“You’re sure it’s not just the concussion? And the almost dying?” and you roll your eyes, tugging him closer, by his coat’s lapel, and he’s whispering your name. 

“How’s this for an answer?” and you kiss him — his lips barely brush yours a moment, but he’s already pulling you back in, parting and meeting until you hold him there a moment, fingers twisting in the hair resting on the small of his neck, “John—” you breath against his lips. 

“I don’t understand why…” he whispers, your foreheads brushing. 

“Why...?” 

“I don’t understand why me,” his fingers cup your cheek gently, as if you’d disappear between his fingers, “you could be with anyone — why would you choose this paranoid, old detective?” 

“Because it’s you,” you softly chuckle, and you draw your lips to his again, “and I wouldn’t want you any other way,” before you add, “except maybe sharing your feelings more so I don’t have to overhear any other conversations to know how you’re feeling.” 

“I could say the same to you, counselor,” 

“Excuse me, I said how I felt first,” you gape at him, in mock offense. 

“Only after hearing how I felt,” but you shrug, smiling as your noses brush. 

“Still, I was the first, so suck it,” you reply, and he laughs, a warm sound that makes your chest stir. 

“Oh,” his lips brush yours, a smile on his lips,  “I’m gonna suck something.” 

[squidpro-quo]

For the prompt : Jaskier is kidnapped and used as leverage against Geralt (I'd be forever grateful if you did this op)

    Thank you so much for this prompt! A perfect opportunity for angst and whump and hurt and comfort, i can only hope i fit it all in here. This was a load of fun!

Jaskier strained against the rope tying his hands together, reminded of another time when the same circumstances had led to his life changing—he’d argue for the better most of the time—and now it might just happen again, except the change to his life will be that it ends. His fingers are turning numb, with how long he’d been held in the stone room it’s no wonder, only a question of how much longer until they figure out that it was all for naught. Bribing the innkeep, getting the herbs necessary to drug him, the fortified hold they’d decided to hole up in? It was all too much effort for a lost cause, but he’d kept his mouth shut for once knowing that if he spoke a word of the futility of their plan, then they’d have no reason to keep him alive anymore. 

    The door creaked; the sound of the key scraping in the old lock had him struggling to scramble as far away from the door as possible, his body protesting every movement even as he knew it wouldn’t help. They’d made up their mind. 

    “How’s the little songbird now? Ready to sing a sweeter song?” The man that entered had a grin with the curve of a sickle, sharp and cutting, to offset the fact that his lisp would have undercut any threats made in anyone else’s mouth. The sharp whistle of his breath through the cracked crags of his teeth accompanied his heavy steps and Jaskier bit back a retort about his singing’s quality in favor of staving off the inevitable by just a few seconds. 

    “No refrain? I’d heard it was hard to shut you up, not the other way around. Guess some things just end up embellished into lies, don’t they?” The look in his grey eyes grew hard.

    Jaskier knew what was coming, he might have found himself in trouble more times than he could count but he’d learned when to expect a punch by the set of a man’s shoulders. This time was no different. The blow caught him across the temple, leaving his ears ringing and the ache in his head redoubled after he’d just started to regain some peace from the pain. He slipped sideways down the wall, unable to catch himself when he couldn’t feel the stone beneath his fingers, to the hoarse laugh of the man he’d realized was the orchestrator of it all. Jaskier rested his forehead against the cool stone floor, hoping it would take away some of the pounding that he felt reverberating through his skull. Like metal clashing against metal, the clanging sounded deceptively close despite the fact that he knew it was only his tired mind playing tricks on him. 

    “Talk,” the man ordered, in a deceptively soft tone, forcing Jaskier to look up at him to read his lips and discern his meaning. “You can talk to that monster, but not to a human?”

“What do you want me to say?” Jaskier couldn’t hold his tongue any longer, though his own voice sounded muted and echoing inside his head. His fear had been a thin veneer before, but now it was being poked through with the usual thorns of irritation and the aching need to be glib. “That I haven’t seen him in months? That I don’t know where he is? That I doubt he knows, or really cares, where I am either? You didn’t understand it the last time I said it, but I guess the constant whistling can get in the way of listening comprehension.” 

“The entire continent knows you’re companions, traveling together, dining together… sleeping together,” the man raised his eyebrows, before continuing, “You know him better than anyone.” 

“Do I?” Jaskier swallowed, to get the dry taste of irony out of his mouth and to keep from retching at the way the world turned blurry before him. “If sleeping together was all it took, I’d have several dozen of those I’ve courted lining up at your doors. So I’d say you’re out of luck on that shaky limb of logic.”

It was a good joke, considering he’d likely die just from the surprise of Countess de Stael riding up so many months after leaving his poems as ash in her fireplace. Or Geralt, who last he’d seen was firmly in the arms of someone Geralt had risked his life for against all odds and against all wishes, her own included. Not that she’d seemed to mind at the end. 

“Is that a note of pity I hear?” 

“I can’t do many things, fight a murderous band of men for example, but I know when I’m not wanted. I don’t begrudge anyone that.” He didn’t, he loved freely and indiscriminately, pouring his affection into the world along with his quips and commentary as an inexhaustible resource. Because what better way to try and stay a memory in someone’s heart long after the flare of passion has gone cold. He couldn’t help it if Geralt had been a never-ending well for him to attempt to fill, not realizing how he’d fallen down into it in the process and the answer he’d been chasing had been merely his own deluded echo in return. 

“He might not come for you now then—” Jaskier had a brief moment of hope at the contemplative look on the man’s face, the sliver of mercy amidst the cold calculation. “But he’ll surely come for your headless corpse. If your songs have even a fraction of truth, he’s the sort to be mad about that kind of thing.” 

Cold ice slid down Jaskier’s spine, because the man was right. Geralt was nothing if not a righteous man, perhaps surly and grumpy to a fault, but he’d fight anyone that threatened the helpless, never mind that it happened to be Jaskier. He’d written songs about it after all, he’d know. Blood pounded in his ears, the sound seeming too loud in the confines of his terror and he could almost imagine the keep itself was resounding with it, the thump of his heartbeat bouncing through the walls in an irregular series of bangs. 

The man snatched his attention back when he slid his axe free of the belt at his waist, hefting it for a better grip and leaning down to yank Jaskier upright. 

“Wait! Wait, what if you just let me go? There’s a new idea, worth considering—”

“Don’t worry, if it really doesn’t matter who ends up dead as long as it’s someone he could’ve saved then we have an endless supply of who to use. As you’ve said, it doesn’t take anyone special,” the man said, rank breath wafting into Jaskier’s face, and he wished that wasn’t the last thing he’d ever hear. 

Axe shining in the flickering light of the torch, the man shoved Jaskier into the right angle despite his best efforts to scrounge together enough strength to resist. The man lifted his arm, already evident that he wouldn’t be able to make it one clean cut and didn’t particularly care, and swung. 

Jaskier had closed his eyes, content with the darkness if that’s all that was left of life anyway, and so the sound of wood breaking from close by and the short gurgle of a last breath was all he knew before there were hands on his face. 

Calloused, rough, and warm, familiar from the many years and he leaned into them so quickly they were all that held him up. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know, but he did anyway because he needed to see, to remember the sight of Geralt leaning over him, engulfing him in his shadow and tracing the bruises on his face with a touch so gentle he could’ve sworn it was a dream. 

“Jaskier,” just the rumbling timbre of Geralt’s voice was enough to make Jaskier realize that he’d been worried, chest heaving and sword bloodied from his rush through the keep. To him. 

“Cutting it pretty close, no?” Jaskier snorted, relief making him lightheaded. Relief that he wasn’t dead, that Geralt was there. “Did you get it? He was about to cut my head off, that  kind of death offers so many opportunities for pithy jokes. Would be a shame to waste it…” 

“I came as fast as I could,” Geralt said, tone not plaintive in the slightest but desperate, as if he thought Jaskier was really doubting him. As if he hadn’t been doing just that not a few minutes ago. 

Jaskier swallowed, this time to keep the words, all the damning and too honest words he wanted to bare before Geralt, down and keep what he’d been willing to carry to the grave with him just a while longer. 

Before he could find anything to say, Geralt pulled him close, palms brushing over his ruined doublet and down to Jaskier’s deadened hands, enveloping his fingers in a grip he could’ve sworn was trembling just slightly. His other hand slipped into Jaskier’s hair, until he felt the spot last touched by the man lying dead at their feet. 

Jaskier hadn’t meant to flinch but he saw the way Geralt’s eyes narrowed at the movement and tried to stand on his own to make up for the moment of weakness. 

“In the area, were you? I don’t think you’ll get much coin for this job.” He wanted to ask, wanted to see if he was more trouble than he was worth but he didn’t want to hear the ugly answer.

“I was already searching for you, when I heard.” Geralt’s hand stayed on his back, just like when he’d carried him around in the djinn’s aftermath. “Last time I saw you, you were covered in your own blood, like now. You left… and I didn’t know where you’d gone.” 

Jaskier stumbled, both from the way the room seemed to spin beneath his feet at the change in altitude as he got up and the fact that Geralt had followed him this time, sought him out and found him. 

“I got into yet more trouble, as you can see. Nothing new there.” He rubbed his newly freed hands and grimaced at the red welts the ropes had left behind. He’d have to wear his longer-sleeved wardrobe to cover those up. He looked up to find Geralt’s gaze still raking over him, the furrow in his brow the one that always formed when he was considering something. “Did you need something?”

“You shouldn’t be alone.” 

“W-what?” Jaskier stuttered. “What does that mean?”

“I’m trouble,” Geralt continued, looking like he was choosing his words carefully. “And you are too.”

    “Thank you for the astute observations… Where are you going with this?”

    “I already said it. That you shouldn’t be alone.” 

    Jaskier waited, but Geralt stared at him with the same set look on his face as when Roach gave him a neigh instead of a bump in the chest, unsure what to say. But words had always been Jaskier’s forte, even if he swallowed them down sometimes. 

    “Are you saying you think trouble loves company?”

    Geralt nodded, and that was enough for Jaskier. He’d never be empty of what he poured into the world, and so when something spilled into him instead, he overflowed. Geralt’s empty well might just have a bucket of water inside it, and he’d managed to fish it out after all. 

prompts open

[myaekingheart]

128. Eager Secrets

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3 index | from the beginning | < previous | next >

               Rei dug her nails into her palms as she raced toward headquarters. Her head was spinning and she felt dizzy and sick but that meant nothing to what she had to do. She was an ANBU captain. The chaos and responsibility of her role was merely an occupational hazard. She checked the position of the sun overhead to discern the time and prayed she would not be late to the morning briefing. Unlike most mornings, however, today her own laziness was not to blame.

               Lady Tsunade had called her into the hokage office bright and early that morning and, like every time such a thing has happened, Rei panicked. Her stomach churned as she got dressed and she braced herself for the worst. She should’ve known sooner or later the hokage would see the error of her ways and rescind Rei’s promotion. It was only a matter of time.

               Or perhaps deep down, only a part of Rei had hoped that was the case. Instead, Tsunade presented a proposition: a high-profile assignment for Rei and her team, the likes of which could turn the tides of her reputation in the black ops—for better or for worse.

               Rei wasn’t quite sure if she and her team were ready. Stakeouts required precision, unwavering attention, and even worse a certain closeness with your teammates. Their durations were indefinite and within that, there was room for fear. Fear that cramped them into tiny hotel rooms, taking up more space than they could allot. Fear so heavy that not even opening a window could alleviate the weight. The thought of spending days trapped with her team terrified her and for a moment, Rei considered refusing the assignment. But her reputation was on the line…did she really want to convince Tsunade more than she feared she may have that she was not cut out for this position? Sucking in a sharp, definitive breath, Rei agreed to the assignment anyway. They would have a week of regular patrol duty beforehand anyway. It would give Rei ample time to brace herself for what was to come.

               As she weaved through the morning crowds through headquarters, Rei repeated Tsunade’s words over and over in her head, mentally bullet-pointing them in hopes that she would not forget the particulars. She may have had a week before they were to set off on this significant mission, but that did not mean she had a week to procrastinate telling the others. Their success relied solely on Rei’s ability to relay this information adequately and succinctly. Rei was the foundation upon which their progress relied. She could not afford to miscommunicate or mess up.

               The locker room bustled with women preparing for the day, strapping gauntlets to forearms and stomping their feet into their boots. The white noise of their gossip buzzed in Rei’s ears. She ducked and dodged their unruly bodies as she approached her own locker, pursing her lips as she concentrated on the combination. It was always on mornings such as this that her lock seemed to taunt her, proving more finicky than usual. She turned the dial this way and that, ensuring that the arrow landed precisely on the number she needed, then tugged hard only to find that she had somehow failed.

               “R-Rei…?” a voice suddenly stammered from behind.

               “What?!” Rei instinctively snapped, whipping around to face her comrade. The shy panic on Mikazuki’s face forced Rei to soften. Sighing, Rei raked her fingers through her bangs and muttered, “Sorry. What do you need?”

               “I-I was just wondering if I could talk to you about something? Maybe?” she asked. Unfortunately, Rei knew exactly what was coming. That afternoon in the dango shop had prepared her all too well. While Rei didn’t really have the capacity to deal with this right now, she knew she had no other choice. Somehow she was always the one to mop up Sekkachi’s messes, anyway. Rei motioned for Mikazuki to continue speaking as she turned back to the lock. “S-So about the other night, at the bar…and Sekkachi…I just…”

               “Mikazuki, if you want me to be honest” Rei started, voice blunt and exasperated, “I wouldn’t kill myself over it.” She twisted the lock one more time then tugged, but yet again the lock did not open. Rei gritted her teeth, restrained a curse, tried again. “Sekkachi is the kind of person you can’t really trust a hundred percent of the time” Rei continued, “so take anything she says with a giant bucket of salt.”

               Mikazuki lingered, knowing that there was likely nothing else to be said on the matter but still feeling unresolved. She didn’t even know why she was confronting Rei about this anyway. She had made her decision, hadn’t she? She told herself she wasn’t going to dwell on Sekkachi any longer. After all, why waste her energy on someone who clearly didn’t care about her? Mikazuki had Tenzo and that ought to have been enough. No, that was enough. And yet something still nagged at the back of her mind. The whole night had passed in a blur, dreamlike and hazy. Mikazuki was in no way drunk—she wasn’t the type—and yet somehow she could not manage to recall the details. Now she was stuck in a mess of feelings she had no idea how to navigate. She merely wanted to know the how and the why, she wanted to dissect Sekkachi’s motives in order to discern how to best move forward.

               Unfortunately, Rei didn’t seem to keen on giving solid answers. If only Rei had answers to begin with—she wasn’t even aware Mikazuki was at the bar that night until Sekkachi told her about the voicemail. Her rabid hangover the next morning was testament enough of that. If Mikazuki wanted the whole story, she would have to confront Sekkachi herself—something Rei knew she would never do, for answers she also knew Sekkachi would never give. It was all pointless. Mikazuki was better off just giving up.

               Just as Mikazuki opened her mouth to finally counter, however, Arai bounded around the corner and slapped the wall of lockers in greeting. At the same exact moment, Rei twisted and tugged the lock one last time and the impact of Arai’s slam sent the locker door flying open. The lock itself spun out of Rei’s grasp and pinged against the other wall with a metallic clang. “Yo, Rei!” Arai greeted, smug as ever. “I’ve got a question for you.”          

               Rei grimaced, steadying herself before rummaging through her locker. “Doesn’t everyone?” she muttered sourly under her breath. She afforded a quick glance to the wall clock overhead. She was running out of time. “What is it, Arai? If it’s about our next mission, you’ll learn all about it after the briefing.”

               “Oh, no, it’s nothing like that” Arai assured, shaking her head. “I was just wondering…do your parents by any chance happen to work at the bookshop down the street?”

               Rei froze, taken aback by the question. “Why do you ask…?” she asked slowly, cautiously. She didn’t think she wanted to know, nor did she want to give Arai answers. The thought of her subordinates having such personal information about her made her feel slimy and vulnerable.

               “Well” Arai started, leaning against the lockers. She toed the groutlines in the floor as she spoke. “I was there the other day picking up some stuff for my sister and I overheard one of the regulars, I guess, asking about you.” Rei hated that her first instinct was to ponder which regular it may have been—Mr. Tomoya always seemed to take an interest in her, but so did any other number of repeat customers. “The woman behind the counter looked kind of sick when they brought up your name, so I figured it had to be your mom or something” Arai continued. “Only moms ever look like they’re gonna hurl when people ask about their kids.”

               “Yeah, and I think I’m about to hurl, too” Rei muttered disdainfully, shaking her head. She tore her tunic off over her head, tossed it into the back of her locker, held her breath as she shimmied into her undershirt. Her clothes still felt tight and she cursed herself for clearly not taking her diet seriously. “Well, I guess you’ve got your answer, then” Rei replied, her head popping up out of the high neck of her shirt. Her hair frizzed and tangled from the fabric’s static.

               Arai watched as Rei turned to step into her pants, but reached out for her forearm to halt her. “Wait a sec, not so fast” she said. “I’ve got one more question.” Rei shot her a sharp glare, sharper than she had intended, but Arai didn’t even seem phased. “Do your parents know you’re an ANBU captain?” the blonde then asked. By the way she arched her brow and smirked, it was clear that Arai thought this was a ridiculous question. She was compelled to ask, anyway.

               The question paralyzed Rei. She froze, opened her mouth, then closed it again. It had been a month since her promotion and she still had yet to tell her family. She didn’t know how. Rei knew they deserved to know yet she couldn’t muster the strength. Finally, Rei stammered a hoarse, “W-why do you ask?”

               Arai shrugged, turning on her heel and flopping down on the nearest bench. “I don’t know, just the way your mom seemed to talk about you made me suspicious I guess” she explained. “Like they were downplaying your achievements or something. Wasn’t sure if she was totally clueless or if she was just that much of a bitch.”

               The idea of someone considering her mother a bitch stung the back of Rei’s throat. Not that Hana Natsuki was perfect—not in the slightest. Her meekness and lack of support over the years certainly contributed to her and Rei’s weak relationship. Hearing someone else refer to her as a bitch, however, felt inappropriate. Only Rei was allowed to say such things about her mother.

               “She really ought to have more respect for you if you ask me” Arai continued. She was apparently completely oblivious to the effect her words had on Rei. Mikazuki glanced at the blonde—uncertain, paranoid, scared. A silent plea to quit while she was ahead.

               Rei sucked her teeth, strapped on her vest. “Yeah, as if you do” she muttered under her breath. While Arai’s behavior had improved since Rei was first promoted, she was still on thin ice. Rei tightened her ponytail, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think this is any of your business anyway” Rei snapped. Her voice was sharp, unyielding. She whipped around to face Arai and there was a fierceness in her eyes that startled both her and Mikazuki. “Besides, it’s not good to eavesdrop on the conversations of private citizens” Rei seethed.

               Arai blinked, having not expected Rei to grow so agitated. She wondered if she had said anything wrong, but quickly dismissed the idea. She was just curious. Just looking out for her boss. Just wanted to make sure she was earning the respect that she deserved. Arai chuckled under her breath then and muttered “As if we havne’t made our entire careers out of eavesdropping.”

               Rei shot her one last warning glare, her fist clenched at her side, before the dull ring of the briefing call crackled on the overhead speakers. The air felt heavy and Rei’s throat was growing tighter by the second. She slapped her mask onto her face and stormed out of the locker room, digging her nails into her palms in an effort to steady her trembling hands.

               She settled at the back of the room, leaning against the wall, and sucked in a sharp breath. She was done for. She couldn’t remember anything that Tsunade had relayed to her that morning. All she could think about now was how she had been set up for failure, how her mind could only focus on one thing and one thing only: her parents. She chewed her lower lip, slammed her fist lightly against the wall. Fuck.

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, lillytalons!

For @lillytalons, I hope you like it <3

*****

Alec's Wings

Magnus and Alec were having their usual date night when the thought of showing Magnus his wings popped into Alec's head. He spent the next few weeks pushing the thought away. He loved and trusted Magnus with everything he had, but the thought of revealing his wings to the older man was nerve racking. Over time the slight want grew stronger. Alec was doing paperwork one afternoon when his mind wandered to Magnus. The more Alec thought about him and spent time with him, the more he wanted to share this part of himself with him. Alec thought about Magnus' warlock mark and the fear Magnus had about how Alec would react to it, only to be surprised when the Shadowhunter told him they were beautiful, and Alec had fallen even more for Magnus that day. He was so distracted by his thoughts, that he didn't notice Isabelle coming into the office. It was only when she cleared her throat that he looked up. 

“You seem distracted.” 

Alec shifted slightly, regaining his focus. “What do you want, Iz?”

“The reports from last night.” she stated, holding a few files out towards him.

Alec took the reports from his sister and started to read them, hoping that she wasn't going to start asking what was on his mind. He loved his sister, but at this moment in time, he didn't want to have a chat nor listen to her talk about what she was up to with Simon. Isabelle narrowed her eyes at her brother and leaning closer, placing her hands on his desk. 

“Whatever is distracting you, you can talk to me about it, or Jace, or Magnus.” 

“Goodbye, Izzy.” Alec replied, not looking up from the paper in his hand. 

Isabelle sighed and headed for the door, she knew that Alec would come to her if he needed her advice, but it didn't hurt to remind him. As she reached the door, she turned back to her brother. 

“I'm serious Alec.” 

Isabelle rolled her eyes at the lack of response and headed out of the office, leaving Alec alone with his thoughts. 

Alec continued to focus on his paperwork after Isabelle left. He knew she was right, and that he should just talk to Magnus. He knew that the warlock would never judge him, but at the same time this was different. It wasn't something that was known about the Nephilim, or something that came up often. Alec sighed, whether Isabelle knew what was bugging him or not, she was usually right about talking things out. As he finished the final report in the pile, he decided that this was it, that next date night he would reveal his wings to Magnus. 

As their next date night came around, Alec felt slightly nervous. He took a deep breath, checking his reflection once in the mirror, before leaving his room. Magnus was waiting for him just inside the doors. As the shadowhunter walked over, a smile made it's way onto his face. Magnus was wearing black skinny jeans, a burgundy shirt with the first few buttons undone and some gold chains around his neck. His make-up matched the outfit and Alec couldn't help but stare as he came to a stop in front of the older man. 

“Everything okay?” Magnus asked, smirking at the shadowhunter. 

Alec leaned in, placing a sweet kiss to Magnus' lips. 

“Just perfect. You look gorgeous.” 

Magnus smiled and raked his eyes over his boyfriend, “So do you.” 

Alec smiled shyly. He never got used to Magnus complementing him. Magnus, on his part, hoped that this reaction would never stop. The warlock softly kissed Alec's cheek before taking his hand. 

“We have a reservation at a little restaurant hidden out of the way.”

“Lead the way.” Alec replied, allowing himself to be pulled from the Institute and guided to their destination. 

Dinner was lovely and nothing too fancy. The pair laughed and talked about the day. Alec told Magnus about how Jace had sulked after Clary beat him in a sparing match; and Magnus had told Alec about a few of his clients. After dinner, they decided to walk back to the loft as they so often did. Alec enjoyed spending time with Magnus, he didn't have to be head of the Institute or a big brother, he could just be Alec; and Alec wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with the warlock. Smiling to himself, he tried to refocus on the story Magnus was telling about himself, Catarina and Ragnor. Magnus stopped when he noticed the look on the taller man's face. 

“Alexander?” 

Alec blinked, the sound of his name pulling him back to the present.

“Sorry, continue.” 

Magnus smiled and stroked his thumb across the back of Alec's hand. 

“If I'm boring you, darling...” the warlock started only to be cut of by the shadowhunter, 

“No, you're not. You never could. It's just...” 

Magnus raised an eyebrow at the pause in Alec's sentence. He waited patiently for the man to continue.

“I love you.” Alec finished, like it was the easiest and most obvious thing in the world.

Magnus smiled at him, his heart fluttering. He would never get used to hearing Alec say it. He wrapped his arms around Alec's neck, pulling him in for a sweet kiss filled with love. 

“I love you.” Magnus stated when they broke apart. 

The warlock took the shadowhunter's hand back in his and resumed his story as they continued to walk towards the loft. 

As they made their way along the streets, a group of mundanes were heading towards a building on the other side of the road. Magnus' attention was pulled to them by one of the girl's laughter. As the warlock watched the group, he tilted his head slightly to the side. 

“You know, I've never really got the obsession mundanes have with wings.” he stated, his eyes still on the group.

At the mention of wings, Alec's nerves returned, but he looked over at the group that had caught his boyfriend's attention. One of the girls was wearing what looked like butterfly wings on her back. 

“I guess, butterfly wings are a bit strange.” Alec stated, turning back to Magnus. 

“It's not just butterfly wings, though. It's all wings; fairy, butterfly, bee, angel.”

“Angel?” Alec inquired, his stomach twisting into knots. 

Magnus hummed in response, “Angelic wings are the worst, in my opinion.” 

“Oh?” 

“I mean, wings are just a huge waste of time, but wings from an angel? It's ridiculous, silly and let's be honest, completely unworthy.” 

Alec felt his blood run cold at Magnus' statement. Did he really think that angelic wings were unworthy? Magnus seemed to sense the shift in Alec's mood and turned back to him. 

“Darling, are you alright?”

Alec nodded stiffly, avoiding Magnus' gaze.

“Yeah, umm, look Magnus, I have to go. Something's wrong with Jace.”

“Oh.” Magnus stated, disappointed that their evening was being cut short. “I'll portal us there.” 

“No, um, it's fine. I'll go alone.”

Magnus blinked at the taller man, confusion and concern filling his eyes.

“I can still portal you, Alexander.” 

“It's fine.” Alec insisted, kissing Magnus' cheek softly before running down the street. 

Magnus watched him go, confused, concerned and a little hurt before sighing and heading home. Something didn't feel right about Alec's excuse and departure, but just in case, he decided to text Isabelle, letting her know that he was available to help if necessary. When his phone rang with the reply from the female shadowhunter, his heart dropped and his blood ran cold. 

What are you talking about? Jace is fine. 

The warlock sighed, tossing his phone onto a chair and poured himself a stiff drink. Once he settled down on the sofa, he began to replay the evening spend with Alec, trying to find out what he had done to make the shadowhunter literately run away. 

Alec had managed to sneak back into the Institute and to his room without being seen. His victory was short lived when Isabelle came barging in. 

“Yes, Iz?” 

“Why are you here?”

Alec rolled his eyes and shifted from where he had been lying on his bed staring at the ceiling. 

“Magnus has early clients tomorrow and I have a lot of paperwork to do.” 

As true as her brother's statement was, Isabelle knew that this wasn't the reason Alec was back at the Institute this early or at all. Sensing that Alec wasn't going to tell her anything and that her brother might just throw her out, she turned and headed for the door; only to stop just on the threshold. 

“Jace is fine, by the way.” 

Alec groaned, knowing that this meant that Magnus had contacted his sister, which, to be fair, he really should have expected. He turned over so his back was to the door and sighed when he heard his sister close the door and her footsteps moving down the hall. As hard as he tried, the shadowhunter couldn't sleep, Magnus' words swirling through his brain. 

A few days went by and Alec was still avoiding Magnus. He'd reply to the warlock's texts with a straight to the point answer, and on one occasion, a 'love you'. Magnus had come by the institute on multiple occasions, but every time Alec had work to do. Magnus slowly seemed to back off, hoping that his boyfriend was just over worked and that he would eventually come back to him

. 

Alec had just made himself some coffee one evening, about five days after the incident, when Clary came running over to him. 

“Alec there's a massive demon attack.” 

Alec nodded, taking a long swig of his coffee and placing his cup in the sink. He followed, the red-head to the Ops centre, and after clarifying the situation, he, Clary, Jace, Isabelle, Underhill and a few others headed out. Isabelle messaged Magnus the information and told him she'd send a fire message if needed. 

As soon as they arrived, they realised that the situation was worse then they thought. More than a hundred demons were wandering around an alleyway while at least fifty of them were on the roof of a nearby building. 

“Izzy! You, Clary and Underhill take the roof. The rest of us, we're on the ground.” 

Everyone nodded, and the three assigned to the roof activated a rune and found their way up. Isabelle sent a quick fire message to Magnus asking for his assistance on the roof. As the two group were engaging the demons, Magnus portal onto the roof and helped fight with the trio. The roof was almost clear, while on the ground more kept appearing. As Alec's team started to gain the upper hand, Alec's focus was pulled by his sister's scream. 

“Magnus!” 

Alec, who wasn't even aware the warlock has come to help, watched in horror as one of the bigger demons got the better of Magnus and threw him off the roof. Without even thinking, Alec summoned his wings and launched himself at his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around him and bringing him safely down to the ground. As he flew down, he saw Isabelle's whip wrap around the demon's neck. After Alec placed the warlock on the ground, he suddenly realised what he had done. 

“Alexander” Magnus whispered, his words barely audible over the fighting. 

Alec didn't respond, just dismissed his wings and headed back to the fight. Magnus, after gathering his thoughts, followed him, magic swirling around his hands. 

After the fight, Alec turned to his team. Isabelle, Clary and Underhill had joined the others on the ground after clearing the roof. 

“Is everyone okay?” Alec inquired. 

“I think so.” Isabelle replied, scanning the team. 

There were a few injuries but nothing too serious, certain shadowhunters were already in the process of activating Iratze runes. Alec took in the surprisingly good condition of his team before Magnus caught his attention. The warlock was leaning against the wall, looking warn out. His hair wasn't quite as neat and his make-up was smudged but the way he was looking at Alec had the shadowhunter's stomach swoop. Alec glanced at the others, his siblings and Clary were still there talking about the fight, while the others had started to head back, before moving closer to Magnus. 

“You should go home and get some rest.” 

Magnus smiled softly at him; even when things weren't clear between them, Alec still cared about him. 

“I'll be fine, Alexander” 

“Magnus, you're warn out.” 

“Come back with me, please.” 

The lack of confidence, and the pleading in Magnus' voice broke Alec's heart. He knew that they had to talk. He'd been avoiding the man for days and had now shown Magnus that he had the one thing the warlock seemed to hate; but he wasn't ready to face the music just yet. 

“Magnus, I can't. I need to do the report for the mission.”

“Jace and I can...” Isabelle started only to be cut off by her brother.

“No, Iz. It needs to be done by the Head of the Institute.”

Isabelle blinked at her brother but Clary pulled her away before she could argue with him. Alec turned back to Magnus, who looked a little hurt before schooling his features to hide it.

“Magnus, go home. Have a bath, a steak, a cocktail. Regain your strength.” 

Magnus sighed, knowing that he didn't have the energy, or the will, to argue. 

“Fine.” 

Alec hid the flinch at the harshness of the warlock's tone. He gave Magnus' hand a quick squeeze before walking over to the others and back towards the Institute. Isabelle glanced back at Magnus just as he disappeared through a portal. Shaking her head, she took off after her brother. 

It was a few hours later when Isabelle and Jace both barged into Alec's office. Alec glared at the pair standing in front of the desk.

“Don't either of you ever knock?” Alec grumbled. 

“No.” Jace replied simply, making Alec roll his eyes. 

“Alec, what is going on with you and Magnus?” Isabelle inquired. 

“What makes you think that something's going on?” 

“Dude, you used me as an excuse to leave date night. You refused to go home with him tonight.” Jace stated, watching his brother's face.

“And you've been avoiding him for the past week.” Isabelle finished. 

“I've been working.” Alec tried to argue.

“Yeah, no. Alec, come on, talk to us. We can help you.” Jace said, moving to lean on the wall next to the desk and closer to Alec. 

“Magnus looked so heartbroken when you walked away.” Isabelle added, moving to sit on the edge of the desk. 

“Alec, we're parabatai. I can feel that something isn't right.” 

Alec sighed and buried his face in his hands. He missed the days when his siblings weren't so nosey and pushy about his personal life. 

“My wings” he mumbled. 

“Alec, what happened?” Isabelle asked softly, pulling her brother's hands away from his face. 

“I... I wanted to tell Magnus, to show him my wings, but things happened.” 

“Alec, when I showed mine to Clary, she just shrugged.” Jace stated. 

“That's different, Jace. She's one of us, she has wings herself so it's nothing new.” 

“I mean, Simon fainted.” Isabelle supplied.

“Makes sense.” Jace muttered, earning a glare from Isabelle and a half snort from Alec. 

Isabelle watched Alec for a moment before speaking, “You didn't get around to telling him, did you?” 

Alec shook his head, “No. We were walking back after dinner, Magnus was talking about one of his adventures when he mentioned mundanes being obsessed with wings. He went on about how angelic wings are useless and unworthy. And now, because I didn't think, I've shown him that I have the very thing he can't stand.”

Isabelle and Jace exchanged a glance before the female shadowhunter leaned forward.

“Did it occur to you, that maybe, Magnus was still talking about mundane wings?”

Alec blinked at his sister. That thought had never actually crossed his mind. 

“No...” Alec groaned. 

Jace moved behind Alec, pushing the man up. 

“Go and talk to him. Now.” 

Alec nodded, he grabbed his jacked and practically ran to Magnus' yelling a thanks to his siblings as he left. 

Magnus was lounging on the sofa with a cocktail when he sensed someone enter through the wards. When he heard the person knock, he placed his cocktail on the table and made his way to the door. He wasn't expecting to find an out of breath Alec on the other side.

“Alexander?” 

Alec blinked slightly, pulling himself back to the present. He hadn't expected to be greeted by Magnus with his hair flat and no make-up. The sight had taken his breath away, as it always did. 

“I need to talk to you.” Alec finally got out. 

Magnus nodded, gesturing for the shadowhunter to enter. Alec made his way inside, coming to a stop next to the back of the sofa. 

“Drink?” Magnus offered, trying to distract himself from what was coming. 

“I'm good, thanks.” 

Magnus hummed in response before crossing his arms across his chest. 

“Alec...” he started only to be cut off by the shadowhunter. 

“Look, Magnus, I'm sorry.” 

Magnus took a deep breath, waiting for Alec to continue with the 'this isn't working out' speech. 

“I shouldn't have avoided you for so long. I was trying to sort stuff out but I should have done it with you, not push you away.” 

Magnus frowned at the other man. “You're not upset with me?” 

It was Alec's turn to frown, confusion written all over his face.

“No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

Magnus raised an eyebrow at the question. 

“The avoiding...” he cut himself off to raise a hand when Alec went to speak, “Even with the 'love you' you sent, but mainly, you refused to come back with me tonight. It seemed like you couldn't get away fast enough.” 

Alec closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. 

“I thought you were going to leave me.” he stated, his voice barely audible. 

Magnus moved closer, ducking his head to meet Alec's downturned gaze.

“Why?”

“Well, our last date night, you said that angelic wings were ridiculous, silly and unworthy. I had planned on showing you mine that night, that's why I left. Then I went ahead and revealed them to you anyway.” 

Magnus reached out and took Alec's hand in his. 

“Alexander, I didn't mean yours.” 

Alec smiled at the warlock, squeezing his hand. 

“I know. After doing the reports tonight, Izzy and Jace came to find out what was wrong. Iz made me realise that you were probably just talking about the mundanes with angel wings.

Magnus nodded in agreement and Alec pulled the warlock into a tight hug. 

“Magnus, I'm sorry.” 

“As am I. I should have realised sooner.” 

Alec pulled back to look at Magnus, “You didn't know. Wait, did you?” 

Magnus shrugged, “I'd heard rumours, but I've never actually seen them. But Alexander, you should know by now that I would never judge you, about anything. And your wings? My Alec, you were breathtaking.” 

Alec blushed at the words, he leaned forward, pulling Magnus back into a tight hug. 

“I'm sorry. I sometimes forget that you saw me and not Jace or Isabelle. You are just such an amazing person, I don't always know what you see in me.” 

Magnus pulled back, cupping Alec's face in his hands. 

“Alexander Lightwood, you are an amazing person. I really don't know what I did to deserve you but I'm so grateful that I have you. You can always talk to me about anything.”

Alec smiled at the man wrapped in his arms. 

“I love you, Magnus. So much.” 

Magnus smiled back at the shadowhunter. “I love you too, Alexander.” 

Alec leaned forwards, capturing Magnus in a loving kiss, the tension from their misunderstanding seeping from them and the air around them. Magnus pulled back, keeping his eyes locked onto the taller man's. 

“Alexander, may I see them?” 

Alec nodded, stepping out of Magnus' embrace and summoning his wings. Magnus' eyes widened at the sight and a small gasp escaped his lips. 

“Darling, you are breathtaking.” 

Alec smiled softly as Magnus walked around him to get a closer look. 

“They're beautiful. May I touch them?”

“Yeah.” Alec breathed, a soft blush covering his checks. 

Magnus started running his fingers through the feathers and gently straightening the crocked ones. Something caught his attention and made him freeze, another gasp coming from his lips. 

“Magnus? What's wrong?” Alec inquired. 

Magnus summoned a full length mirror so the shadowhunter could see. As soon as Alec saw, his eyes went wide. Starting from the base of his wings, thin strands of gold were weaving their way through his wings, along with some thin blue strands. 

“Alec, I don't know what happened.” Magnus started but Alec spoke softly. 

“Magnus, drop your glamour.” 

Magnus looked puzzled at the request but did as Alec asked. Once the glamour was gone, and his real eyes were on display, the blush across Alec's face darkened. 

“Magnus, the colours threaded through my wings match your eyes and your magic.” 

Magnus gaped at Alec in the mirror, before the taller man continued. 

“A nephilim's wings will take on the colour or colours of a specific trait of said nephilim's destined other half.” 

“Alexander” Magnus breathed, his voice full of love and joy. 

Alec turned to face Magnus, pulling him close. 

“You're my soulmate, Magnus.”

Magnus smiled, leaning up to kiss the taller man, his heart felt like it would burst. Alec broke the kiss, leaning his forehead on Magnus'. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, darling”

Alec pulled Magnus over to the sofa. As they went the nephilim dismissed his wings while the warlock vanished the mirror. The pair settled across the cushions, Magnus, with his back against the arm rest, and Alec curled into his side, his head on the older man's chest. They talked for a while, Magnus tracing random patters on Alec's arm before the pair fell asleep content and in love. 

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Tesserae

Chapter 2 (AO3)

Steve didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the door to Tony’s lab. He’d honestly rather be facing down a Hydra base than have this conversation; literal land mines were much easier to deal with than conversational ones. And this was going to be even harder than he’d thought, because Tony was already giving him a message with this stubbornly closed door – Steve knew that Tony knew he was here, he knew because JARVIS knew where everyone was and JARVIS definitely would have mentioned that Steve was outside his lab. But the door stayed closed. Tony didn’t come out and ask him why he was standing here, didn’t open the door to welcome him in. Trust Tony to find a way to say fuck you without even needing to be physically present, Steve thought wryly.

Steve had never felt like a coward until this moment because of how much he wanted to walk away, how easy it would be to tell himself he would do it later. But that’s what got them into this mess, and he had made a promise, so Steve took a deep breath and knocked. “Tony,” he called out when the door didn’t open. “I need to talk to you. It’s about Bucky.” At that, the door finally slid open and Tony was standing there, cleaning the grease off his hands with a shop rag.

“What about Bucky?” he said guardedly.

Steve let out the breath slowly, and for a dreadful, aching moment he let himself feel the sadness and regret that things had come to this. It was a physical pain in his chest, thinking about what could have been, the team they would have made. And maybe Tony could see that, because the look on his face slowly went from wary to watchful. “Can we take a walk?” Steve said. He started to cross his arms over his chest then thought better of it, shoving his hands into his pockets instead. “It’s important.”

“Fine,” Tony said after a moment. He disappeared into his lab for a moment, and when he returned he was shrugging into a hoodie and slipping a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. “Let’s walk.”

Steve thought that taking the first step, knocking on that door, was the hard part, but it turns out walking awkwardly next to Tony while trying to figure out how to start this conversation was way worse. “Bucky wanted me to talk to you,” Steve said at a quiet patch of sidewalk, since there was no way he was going to figure out a better way to say this. “About…us.”

“Us,” Tony echoed. “There is no ‘us.’”

“That’s what he wanted us to talk about.”

“Ah.”

Steve forged ahead after that unhelpful comment. “Bucky told me that you made it clear that you weren’t interested in any more apologies, so I guess I won’t do that. But I just want you to know that I really want to try to make things better, if we can, I just need to know how.”

“Look, Rogers,” Tony said flatly, and Steve winced. When they first met it was Cap, then it became Steve, and in Siberia, it became Rogers and had apparently stayed there ever since. “This is it. There is not going to be a better. You made it pretty damn obvious that when the push comes to shove, you don’t trust me. Not when or where it counts. So what’s the point?” He turned to face Steve and Steve wished he could take Tony’s sunglasses off and see his eyes. “What is the goddamn point? I’ll make pretty for the papers and the photo ops, and you know damn well if the Avengers are needed I’ll be there, but other than that…” Tony shrugged and turned to keep walking. “You keep to your part of the tower and I’ll keep to mine, and never the twain shall meet.”

Steve was so surprised by Tony’s words that he stopped walking. “What do you mean, I don’t trust you? Of course I trust you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you.”

“No, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t need me,” Tony corrected, still walking. After a few more steps Tony noticed that Steve had stopped, so he did too, turning around to face him.

“I’m serious, Tony,” Steve insisted. “Why do you think I don’t trust you?”

“Are you kidding?” When Steve just stared at him blankly, Tony exhaled in frustration. “When you first got wind that something was rotten in the state of SHIELD, when you had a super encrypted file to unlock and you didn’t come to me, you told me you didn’t trust me. After you nearly got blown up at Camp Lehigh and didn’t come to me, you told me you didn’t trust me. When you found out that Hydra had infested SHIELD and was trying to kill billions of people, including me, with helicarriers that I helped build, and you didn’t come to me, you told me you didn’t trust me. Do I need to go on? Because I could go on. I could go on about your search for Bucky, your secret search for that goddamned Siberian bunker.” Tony threw his hands in the air. “You got mad at Fury for not telling you all the important information for an operation, and then you turn around and do the same damn thing to me! So what in the hell am I supposed to take from all of that? Huh?” Steve was silent, too stunned to think of anything to say, so Tony shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and hunched his shoulders. “I’ll tell you what I took from all of that. I realized that not only were we not friends, we weren’t partners, or teammates, or even coworkers. We were little more than strangers.”

Tony turned on his heel and started walking back to the tower, leaving Steve on the sidewalk. After a moment Steve blinked and followed him, catching up to him easily. He put a hand on Tony’s shoulder to stop him, but Tony shoved his hand away with a growl. Holding his hands up in surrender, taking a step back, Steve said, “I didn’t do those things because I didn’t trust you, Tony. I made a lot of bad calls and worse decisions, but not once did it cross my mind that I couldn’t trust you.”

“Then why? Why didn’t you come to me?” Tony shouted. “What did I do to make you think that you couldn’t come to me for help?”

“Because I was ashamed!” Steve shouted back. “Captain America was supposed to have stopped Hydra. I was supposed to have stopped Hydra. Instead, I wake up and find out that they took my best friend, were trying to take my country, and had been playing me like a fool for years. I needed to fix it, me, or...or it would have felt like my entire life would have been for nothing.”

Tony stared at him. “So it was pride?” He said in disbelief.

“No! I mean – I –“ Steve stopped, blinking rapidly. “I…I guess? I just felt like I needed to do it all myself. I didn’t think that you would think that I didn’t ask for your help because I didn’t trust you! I thought you were still mad about everything with Bucky!”

“Goddammit Steve!” Tony paced away as if he couldn’t look at Steve anymore, hands raking through his hair. “You are such a hypocrite. How many times did you call me reckless and arrogant, and here you were, taking on Hydra almost all by yourself because you were too stubborn to ask for help?”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry,” Steve said. He pressed the heel of his hand against his chest, against the sudden tightness there. “I can’t tell you how much I regret everything that’s happened. Everything we had after New York went to shit because I was so goddamn sure that I knew best. I don’t need you to tell me how much I fucked up, okay? I know.” Tony was still halfway down the sidewalk, back turned and shoulders slumped. Steve took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Look, I don’t expect you to forgive me. Bucky asked me to talk to you because he thought that we, uh, needed to talk, I guess. He just wanted to help. And I guess that was a good idea, because I had no idea that this is how you’ve been feeling.”

The silence stretched and Steve realized he was holding his breath.  He let it out slowly as he watched Tony rock on his heels and think, hands deep in his pockets. “You know, that is one thing that Howard and Peggy always said about you during the war,” Tony finally said. “You never called in for reinforcements, no matter how bad things got.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, staring at his feet. “Trying to help Bucky made me realized that I can’t do this alone, so I’ve been trying to get better about…that. But please, I hope you believe that I never meant to hurt you, I do trust you. I do. I trust you with my life, but more than that, I trust you with Bucky’s.”

Steve looked up, hopeful, but his shoulders sagged when Tony started walking away again. But Tony only went a few steps before he stopped and half turned so he could look at Steve. “You coming?” he said, and though he wasn’t smiling, there was a lightness in his eyes that hadn’t been there for years; as he jogged to catch up, Steve felt like he could really breathe for the first time in ages.

                                         ***

“Well?” Bucky asked as soon as Steve got back. He watched with consternation as Steve collapsed into an armchair, blowing out a breath in relief. “How did it go?”

“I think it helped,” Steve said. “You were right. It didn’t go at all like I expected, though.”

“In what way?”

“Well, what he was actually angry about wasn’t what I thought it was.” When Bucky raised an eyebrow, Steve said, “He thought I didn’t trust him.”

“Oh.” Bucky blinked and thought about that for a while. “Well, that makes sense. Trust is a big fucking deal to Tony, he doesn’t give it lightly. If he thought he had trusted you but not vice versa, he would be really hurt.”

“Yeah.” Steve ran his fingers over the callous on his hand from holding the shield. “Anyway, I guess it’s up to Tony now. I’m not sure what to do next.”

“Well, since you just spent a lot of time talking about your feelings, you wanna go punch in the gym? I’ll spar with you.”

“Yes, please,” Steve said fervently.

Bucky wanted to track Tony down the very next day to talk to him too, but Tony got called away to LA early in the morning on urgent Stark Industries business, so it was almost a week before Bucky saw him again. He made a plate of spaghetti and meatballs out of the giant batch that he and Steve made for dinner and headed down to Tony’s lab. He found Tony behind the wheel of his hot rod, the one he said he used to work on with his father all the time, listening to piano music and staring into space, clearly lost in thought. He was still wearing the suit from LA, though the jacket and tie had been discarded and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his forearms. Bucky hesitated, wondering if maybe Tony wanted to be alone, but either his footsteps or JARVIS or maybe the smell of spaghetti gave him away.

“Hey, troublemaker,” Tony said with a smile, turning to look at Bucky over his shoulder. “Ooh, dinner. Thanks.” He climbed out of the car and took the plate over to the couch in one corner of his lab to sit down and eat.

“It’s not much,” Bucky said, trailing after him and sitting at the other end of the couch. “Out of the jar sauce and frozen meatballs.”

“Brings back memories,” Tony said around a mouthful of food. “This was Rhodey’s specialty in college.”

“So how was LA?” Bucky asked, leaning against the arm of the couch so he could face Tony, resting his head against the back.

Tony shrugged and stabbed a meatball. “I managed to be productive around all the bullshit. Got some good sushi and Mexican food while I was out there, though. And I get to see Pepper.”

“Good.” As Bucky watched Tony eat he realized he was probably smiling dopily; he’d missed Tony while he was gone, even though it had only been a week.

Tony must have noticed him staring, because as he set his plate to the side his cheeks were looking a bit ruddy. He cleared his throat and said, “So I get the feeling you weren’t here to ask about LA.”

“Well, no, not really,” Bucky confessed. “I mean, I am excited to see you, but I was wondering if you had any new thoughts about…you know…”

“Steve?” Tony asked wryly. “Broken coffee mugs?”

Bucky shrugged, feeling a bit like a nosy busybody for prying, but he’d really been shaken by how angry Tony had been, how raw his pain had seemed, and he couldn’t ignore something like that.

Tony was quiet for a long moment, fingers picking at a hole in the couch where the stuffing was coming out. “Did you know that artists can make some of the most stunning mosaics out of broken pottery?” He said eventually. “It’s apparently one of the oldest known art forms. People would take pieces of broken pottery and rocks and smooth them out to make the mosaics with. The little pieces are known as tesserae.”  A curl of cautious hope made Bucky’s heart leap and gave him the courage to put his hand on top of Tony’s, stilling his nervous fidgeting. Tony’s eyes flew up and met Bucky’s, and with an almost shy quirk of his lips, he laced their fingers together. “Looking back,” Tony continued, “I realize that circumstances kind of forced Steve and me together before we were really able to figure out how we fit. So maybe it’s not a surprise that it didn’t really work out.”

“But now you have a second chance,” Bucky ventured, squeezing Tony’s hand. “Right?”

“Right. I don’t know what its going to look like,” Tony said with a wry smile, “but at least now I’m willing to find out.”

[cristian-capulet]

Hole In My Heart [Cris & Leo]

Who: Cristian and Leonardo Capulet

What: Meet to have a talk after their less than stellar run in the week prior. 

Where: Park

When: 11AM on February 8th

Summary: Seeking closure, Cristian invites Leo to have a chat with him in a public space after their fight the week prior, and running into each other again the night after. More information comes to light that leads Cristian to make some suggestions to Leo about his future, and instead of shutting Leonardo entirely out of his life, Cristian ends up finding himself offering to help.

Warnings: Mention of PTSD, mental health discussion.

Leo fidgeted with his tie and collar as he walked through the park. He was still in a bit of disbelief at the fact that he was even here. Cris had asked him to talk, but... did he even deserve a chance to speak to him? No. No he didn't, but he had the opportunity, and damn if he didn't want a chance to see Cristian again. As he got closer, he saw Cristian there waiting for him, and he slowed slightly as he closed the distance between them. With a coffee in hand, he took a deep breath before stopping next to the bench. "Hey..." He said in greeting, it was weak, but any of his familiar greetings with him wouldn't be welcome anymore. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

Inviting Leo to chat hadn’t been easy for the submissive. He was still incredibly angry and betrayed, but knew it stemmed from just how strong his love for Leo had been when they’d been together. How much he admittedly still cared... Cristian hoped if anything perhaps conversing with Leonardo would offer some form of closure for himself— realizing he had questions and emotions he wanted answered and validated... just not on the spot in a grungy men’s bathroom at a bar. He felt... more composed now. Ready to talk and figure out what went wrong. Or... at least that’s what he’d told himself prior to texting the invitation to Leo. The submissive had spent the morning in a tizzy, and had been fumbling with a long empty coffee cup for a solid twenty minutes prior to the Dominant’s arrival, dead set on being the first to arrive. “No- not at all,” he answered, shaking his head politely. His fingers nervously continued to play with the lid of his disposable coffee cup as his eyes quickly raked over Leo’s form in curiosity. “Thank you for agreeing to chat...Please— sit.”

Leo cleared his throat as he slowly took a seat next to Cristian on the bench. Nerves were eating at him, not knowing what to expect out of this meeting. He thought that he had said his goodbye, then there had been the drunk texts, and he thought that was goodbye. Now there was this. It was only fair that Cristian got to leave on his own terms, and surely that's what this was. There was no other way for them, not after what he'd done. He just hoped he could get through the meeting without becoming a complete wreck in front of the submissive. "Of course. I wouldn't have said no to you." He stopped himself from saying anything else by taking a sip from his coffee cup. After a moment he said, "So... you've got me here now..."

“I wanted to first off.... apologize again for having forced our initial conversation in that bar... and again for texting you the next day,” he began, gaze lingering on his cup as he spoke. He had no regrets chasing after Leo at the bar, but wished perhaps he’d found another way to do it still. “But then... I was hoping you might be willing to talk about... it.” He let his voice drop off a moment before Cristian added, “What... wasn’t working... What maybe I guess— if there was anything I could have done that I failed to do to— to prevent what happened.” it felt impossible to say it. Any way to prevent you leaving me. To prevent us Falling apart. “I know you were having nightmares and you mentioned at the bar... Alex... But— I guess... ghosting me? Everyone? Your sudden disappearance was... was really hard, Leo. Even though the texts all said delivered, a small part of me honestly wasn’t sure you were alive.”

They were going right into it, it appeared. That's fine. Leo was much more comfortable with people being direct. He hated people dancing around the real point, although when it came to difficult topics like this, he had become a master at avoiding the point. This time? He vowed honesty. No more hiding the truth, dancing around it, deflecting, or changing topics. Whatever Cristian wanted from him, he would give, if he could. "Well, for starters, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all." He glanced over at the male, even though he noticed Cristian's eyes on the cup in his hands, Leo couldn't take his eyes away from him. "If that's what you want to talk about... I'll tell you anything you want to know. Although, I think it's important that you understand that there's nothing that you failed to do. I was - I am a bit lost and a lot broken. I was hoping you wouldn't notice the nightmares, but I suppose that's impossible..." Leo ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. "This... these issues started long before us. Long before I came back to Verona, truth be told. I should've told you sooner. I..." His brow furrowed, realizing he was going to be putting himself in a headspace he didn't like to be. "Honestly, you made me forget for a while... before you, I had difficulty sleeping straight through the night. With you there, I was able to somehow relax enough to make it through a night and I began to heal, really... It's hard to explain what it's like to be in charge of lives, and to see those lives lost. It's not something you can just get over."His fingers tapped a rhythm on the cup as he tried to keep himself calm, but his eyes seemed distant as he found himself back there. Seeing each one of those young faces lost and under his command. "I left the military because I couldn't deal with the loss. I couldn't... I couldn't have them trust me, follow me, and lose them it was too much after a while. So... when I started this mission to help with Oz... I didn't think that I would have to worry about loss. They were my responsibility, Cris. They weren't trained to do what I was. It was my job to make sure they weren't hurt and I lost him. It's my fault that he's dead. Alex should've..." His voice caught and his brow furrowed. "Well, it's my fault. They trusted me to bring them home, and I failed. So, losing him brought it all back, and you weren't there with me when it happened and... well, the nightmares returned, and worse. The only time I felt somewhat normal was with you, but I couldn't tell you... I couldn't admit my failure out loud. It's easy to say that you don't think it's my fault, but how could it not be?" He asked, it was a rhetorical question, and he moved on. "So, when you say you want to know if there's anything you failed to do... no, you were everything I needed. It was my fault, my inability to see past my fears, past my grief, past all my failures. I felt like I would bring you down, or that I would ruin us, or that you would see me as a failure, and I couldn't handle that. Cris, I would not have survived if you saw me as the failure I think I am."There was a moment where he tried to think of what next to say and then he said, "Like I said before, I regretted the decision. I was second guessing myself before I did it. The problem was I thought it was right, it wasn't. I truly thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought I was protecting you from my self-destruction. Little did I know that you were my only sanity." He shook his head and looked down at the cup he held in his hands.

Cristian didn’t speak for a moment after, trying to fully process the response after— quite a bit more detailed than at the bar. From what it sounded like... Leo had PTSD from his time spent in the military, and Alex passing had triggered it. And Cristian... has failed to connect the dots. He hated the fact he hadn’t ever thought much about the other’s mental health— and any issues he might have had associated with time spent serving. He could never judge Leo for it— heavens knew he would have similar issues in his shoes— but instead judged himself for not knowing or presuming there might be something along those lines at play still that was hurting the Dominant. Was he upset still for how Leo had handled everything— how he’d ripped the choice from Cristian’s hands and left him? Absolutely. But hearing how mentally broken he was and continued to be... Part of him wanted to ask why Leo hadn’t changed fields entirely to something less stressful, or if he’d ever seen a professional for help at any point in his life. Someone who could help him process these events and move past them... Cristian appreciated knowing his impact on the other, but also wondered how healthy such a dependency could be. Regardless, it broke his heart knowing even if he disagreed with Leo’s actions, the Dominant had thought he had to go it alone and further isolate himself from everyone— perhaps the very last thing he should have done. At least when he left, Cristian had had family and friends to fall back on. Did Leo allow himself... anyone? Cristian reaches for Leo’s coffee cup, gently yet firmly taking it from him as well as his own, setting both on the ground. “Come here,” he urged then as he sat back up, opening his arms wanting to pull the older male into a hug.

Once it was out in the open Leo felt... raw. Far to exposed. He wanted to find a way to take it all back, bury it behind the face he showed to everyone else, the one that appeared to have himself put together and in control. Except, somehow, with admitting that he had these issues meant that he could no longer push them aside and pretend they didn’t exist. He wondered how he was going to survive the night now that he’d admitted things to someone else, and was trying to think of ways to do that when his coffee cup was removed from his hands. Leo didn’t fight, his eyes merely looking to the submissive wondering what was going on until he heard the words spoken and saw his arms open. Moving slowly, his body closed the small distance between them, arms wrapping around the other’s frame as if he couldn’t believe he had this opportunity. After a moment he squeezed his eyes shut, dropping his face into the curve of the submissive’s neck as emotions hit him harder than he expected. This was where he felt safest. Why had he pushed this away? He might have found a way to heal if he’d only trusted this information to Cristian sooner. “I’m sorry...” he mumbled into the other’s shoulder lost in the sadness, and guilt that overwhelmed him, and the relief to feel as though he wasn’t alone anymore.

It didn't matter that Leo had hurt Cristian deeply in that moment-- or that they had a lot to work past. The submissive could plainly see the other was hurting, and while it might have been easy to say it was well-deserved, Cristian knew this was much more than that. It genuinely hurt him as well seeing Leo suffering like this and knowing he'd been struggling with this for so long. Why did he still work security? Could he... Move to a less violently inclined version of it that wasn't as likely to involve someone getting hurt? He supposed that was what Leo had already intended until things had taken a twist in Verona thanks to the Romano family. His arms wrapped snuggly around Leo's frame, sighing gently. One arm encircling Leo's back as the other gently cradled the nape of his neck "I know you are, Leo," he answered back gently. "I know, sweetheart." The pet name rolled off his tongue with  a familiar yet sad ease, wishing there was more he could do or say. It felt wrong to try to verbalize so much so quickly though-- to try to suggest Leo start speaking to a professional, or to ask why he hadn't switched careers entirely. "Everything will be okay, I promise you," he added instead, content to let silence fill the void as he held Leo close. How things would be okay-- Cristian wasn't sure yet. But as much as he thought things were over between the Dominant and himself, he couldn't simply leave Leo in the state he was in-- especially knowing now that the man was keeping all of this to himself. He wasn't even sure what the next steps would be, but he knew the best thing at the moment was reassurance. Leo would get better... Cristian would make sure of it.

Hearing Cristian trying to comfort him helped to calm him slowly. He had opened himself up to a reality he had kept locked up tight and tried to hide away. This was a culmination of years worth of pain, grief, and blame hitting him in waves. He held onto Cristian tightly, and that promise that everything would be okay finally helped to calm the storm of emotions. Slowly the crying stopped, his breathing normalized, and as he composed himself he turned his head away from Cristian as he cleaned off his face. Unable to look the submissive in the eye at first. He’d never broken down in front of anyone, and here he was looking weak in front of the person whose opinion mattered more to him than anyone else. “Sorry... I shouldn’t have... usually, I’m much more in control of... And this is... it’s a lot to deal with, a burden that I should’ve been able to handle...” He hadn’t wanted to unload this on Cristian, and he felt a sense of embarrassment at this, but at the same time he realized yet again... he wasn’t alone. Cristian hadn’t shoved him away once he learned the truth. “Thank you...” he said softly, still unable to meet the other male’s eyes.

Cristian fished a tissue from his pocket when Leo pulled away— one he’d brought Incase he himself had needed it. He leaned down to grab the Dominant his coffee, holding it out for Leo take along with the facial tissue. “If I’m not allowed to apologize, then you aren’t either, Leo,” he chided softly.  “It is a lot to deal with... more than most do their entire lives. But you’re wrong thinking you’re somehow suppose to be able to somehow cope with this all alone.” Hell, Cristian hadn’t done that when Leo left... he had friends and family, and had even sought professional help after a few months in order to get his own life in order... And what he’d gone through was far less traumatic than feeling lives were lost due to him.

Taking his coffee cup again, as well as the tissue, Leo focused on the things in his hand as he listened to Cristian. He gave a small shrug. “It seems like a poor excuse, my having to deal with a lot. And to think... I chose the military life.” A rueful smile crosses his features. “Seems I’m good at making terrible life decisions.” He took a deep breath and then took another sip of coffee. It felt natural, right even, for him to confide in Cristian. He knew he had no right to unload on the submissive, not when they weren’t together anymore. Still, he felt relieved it was him and not anyone else. This understanding wouldn’t have come from most, but that wasn’t terribly surprising, Cristian had always been good to him despite his past. “I hope you don’t still think you’ve failed me, or us, in some way. I don’t think you can be at fault in any of this. I just wish... that I’d realized I needed support sooner, that maybe I didn’t have to hold it in and try to deal with it all alone... and poorly, might I add.” God, it would be a miracle if his liver would survive past 45 at the rate he’d been going lately. “I just... I don’t know what to do,” he admitted softly. This was territory he hadn’t crossed before. For once he wasn’t confident in his next steps, or even the least bit sure.

The submissive’s  lips curled into a frown. He did feel  he’d failed Leo in some aspects— such as never realizing he suffered any forms of PTSD or noticing the signs. He realized now he’d put Leo up on a pedestal in many regards, not realizing just how faulted the other man was. Leo has simply been so good at hiding it for so long, and Cristian, blissfully ignorant. Still, he wasn’t going to start a fight over this or cause more stress. He sighed softly and reached for his own empty cup. “Well... do you want my advice, Sir?”

His eyes lifted to Cristian at his question. There was a certain nervousness at what the other might suggest. After only a brief moment of consideration, he nodded slowly, he trusted that Cristian would only want what was best for him. “What do you think I should do?”

He hesitated a moment, nervous as to how Leo might take the suggestion. One hand held onto the coffee cup still as the other reached out, gently resting on Leo’s knee. “I don’t know much about your experiences prior to working together for Lord Tybalt... but have you ever tried speaking to someone about this— all of this before? Or... would you be open to trying at least?” He paused a moment, giving Leo’s leg a gently squeeze. “I— I want to help you, Leo, but I think speaking to an unbiased third party might help.. a lot.” Cristian spoke slowly, watching carefully for any sign of Leo pulling away as he continued. “I could even recommend someone— if you prefer it be via phone versus in person. Or... I would be willing to help you find someone you were comfortable speaking with locally here in Breton, if you’d consider it.”

As he listened to Cristian speak, Leo’s brow furrowed. It was hard already, to tell him and admit it to himself. However, he had come to a realization that he certainly couldn’t do this on his own. Cris was being understanding, but could he truly expect the other to listen to some of the gruesome things he had seen? No. He had a feeling if he didn’t get it out then those memories would remain trapped in his mind, a constant reminder of his failure, perhaps this would be another way. Maybe he could find a way to feel less pain over all the lives lost. “I... would... I think maybe I should try...” His eyes went from the hand on Leo’s knee to the other male’s face, looking for reassurance. “Do you think they can help? Do you think you might help me find someone who could really work with me on this? Someone who maybe has experience dealing with people who were in the military... maybe?” He needed someone who could understand what he had been through. Someone who wasn’t just trying to help but knew what someone like him would have gone through. Someone with experience.

Cristian nodded almost immediately, surprised by the other’s willingness to the idea. It was a positive, promising step forward. “Yeah... I can definitely help, Leo,” he responded softly, making a mental note to start looking into locally available resources later than evening. “I’ll see what I can dig up and we can go over your options over coffee or brunch some time in the near future. How’s that sound?” He added with a gentle smile. He was already willing to meet with his ex again apparently, something that he hadn’t envisioned that morning. Inviting Leo to chat was suppose to be for closure... to truly move on— but life apparently had a funny way of ignoring any plans Cristian ever made for himself. Knowing what he knew now, he couldn’t have simply left Leo and cut him out of his life like the other had so desperately tried to do to himself. He wasn’t sure what to call what was between them anymore... Or if he could manage a friendship with his ex, but it hardly felt like either wanted the other completely gone. “We can catch up, too... you can tell me how the new job’s going... it’ll be... nice, yeah?”

Relief flooded him at the idea of having Cristian’s help. Before he knew it, he reached out with his free arm, the one not holding his coffee cup, and pulled him in towards his body. “I can’t thank you enough for this. For everything.” Lord knew he didn’t deserve this kindness. Pulling back, he remained close as a slow and small smile rugged at the corner of his lips. “I’d like that, to meet up and talk about what options you find... and so we can catch up. You can tell me about your job too. I want to know how you like it.” It sounded like Cristian was willing to let him into his life still. That gave Leo hope. Maybe they weren’t together right now, but maybe... maybe someday when he wasn’t so broken. He still loved Cristian more than he had any right to, but he knew as he settled back against the bench, that he needed to work on himself first. However, he wasn’t alone in this. He still had Cris, at least in some form.

[elejah-verse]

I Can Dream About You/3

Fanfiction

Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Another time...another place... A Rock’n’Roll Fable

AU TVD/TO story

With Klaus Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson, Caroline Forbes, Rebekah Mikaelson, Stefan Salvatore and others

a/n: I just want to say thanks to everyone liking this story and reading. Love you to bits. xoxo

tags @rissyrapp20 @dendrite-lover @elejahforever

_____

Stefan arrived at the Salvatore Mansion parking his bike in front of the main entrance, together with his biker mate Enzo. The walked inside in their muddy biker boots, smelling of machine oil, not caring about where they now took off their jackets. Lily Salvatore, having heard the bikes pull in got out of the lounge to meet her son.

 "How I've missed you"- the woman now moved to her son giving him a kiss on the cheek, which Stefan let her, just to please her. He didn't like her molly-cuddly ways, so he quickly moved away.

"Can you please put the jackets away- if your father sees them with that sign on the back, you know how furious he would get"- Lily asked in a sweet mellow voice.

The jackets had a black reaper sign at the back with the name of his biker gang- RIPPERS.

"I really don't care if he sees it or not. I am not staying long. I just came to get some stuff"- Stefan walking now up the stairs to his room. 

Lily was now slightly agitated and she hurried after her son, trying now to talk to him to reconsider leaving the family altogether.

"He didn't mean it. You know how furious he gets, but then when he calms down, he sees sense"- Lily said referring to the very heated argument Stefan had with his father Giuseppe the day before, adding-

"Your brother is getting married tomorrow. Will you not be standing as his best man?"

"I am. I promised Damon, and I will do it. But that's the last family thing I will do."- Stefan said.

"Oh, Stefan, why are you so stuborn. See, how Damon changed. He found a good girl, he will start a family- what will happen to you?"

"Come on, mom. Damon is doing this for the money." - Stefan said.

"It's not true. He loves Rebekah."- Lily said.

"Keep telling yourself that."- Stefan shot back at his mother.

Lily's eyes now watered. She could not believe, or accept that her sweet little boy changed so much. She blamed it on the bad company he kept, turning him into, what she considered, bandits. She tried to get him away from the bikers and get him back to be her golden boy. But after having felt the taste of freedom, and not having to live according to his father's rules, there was no turning back. 

So, how did Y/N get involved with the likes of Stefan Salvatore? 

Well, after Elijah left, without  giving her any particular explanation, she went from shellshock mode, into sadness, which transformed into anger and then not caring much. And at that point when she was lingering between anger and not caring  much what will be, she hooked up with Stefan at a New Year's party in the Diner. Which was roughly some six months after Elijah had left. And so they went from seeing one another on occasion, to seeing one another quite frequently. He treated her good when they were together. They had fun. It was nothing heavy, and she didn't want it to be, and neither did Stefan. She swore to herself she would never fall hard for a guy, like she fell for Elijah. 

She was in love with the dapper SEALs marine from the first hello they had exchanged when they met at the Mystic Fall's Lake Fest, nearly four years ago. And it was bliss, even though her parents had reservations about her dating seven year her senior. When they met, Y/N had just turned 18. But since he was the most responsible Mikaelson, they didn't mind. He had already had a rank of commander in the Navy Seals. And he was reconsidering retirement and getting out of the force. But there were not many people like him around, so very capable, honourable and reliable, and the Navy couldn’t  let him go just yet, granting him only free time till further notice. It was unheard of, but in certain occasions, certain operatives got more than some ordinary military officer would get. 

After hellish five years of service as part of the special operative forces, living a life that was strictly about the operations, returning home to Mystic Falls, he plunged into what some would call just a normal life, completely giving himself into all that it offered. He enjoyed the time with his family, his sister and brother. Letting himself fall in love. Same as Y/N, he had fallen hard. The military and his operative life seemed to be a different universe, he had blocked out, as if someone compelled him to do so. 

He had told Y/N bits and pieces of what his military past, but he could not tell her exactly what he was doing and definitely not about the ops. And whenever she would start to ask more questions, he would override the conversations kissing her, or talking about some every days stuff, her stuff- or his family's, like he wanted to completely erase that he was a navy officer. 

"Let's talk about how beautiful this sunset is"- he would say as they sat down at their favourite spot at the pier-"navy life is so boring. We're like robots sometimes, everything is 9:00 this or 15:00 that- I love to watch the colours the sun paints tonight- or - how the rays play out the brown shades of your eyes"- looking at her like no other looked at her before. Kissing her like no other did before, making love to her like no other made before.

And then all was gone one day- just like that. Puff. Only a letter remained and a heart that stopped beating with the love. At least with the love it beat for him. 

At the Mystic Falls Lake, now, Y/N  stopped crying. She looked at herself in the review mirror. Her eyes were all puffed up. 

“No more crying over him. This is done.” - she now put the engine on and drove away from the place. As she got back to the house, she tried to wash it with extremely cold water, hoping to reduce the puffiness. She hated feeling the way she felt. All mushy. But, it could not be helped. The emotions she had bottled up for a very long time now played like someone let million butterflies boxed up loose. She now flashed back at the brief moment earlier as his hands on her arms, him being so near her. She now gulped shivering up inside. 

A knock at the bathroom door, hearing Caroline's voice brought her back to reality. She answered her friend that she would be out in a minute. Y/N now wiped her wet face off with a towel. Running her hands through her hair she took a deep breath, and then got out to meet her friend.

As she got out, Caroline noticed immediately that she had been crying.

“What’s happened?”

Y/N now had to tell her what had happened earlier at the Mystic Lake.

"He went there? Oh! That means he is still hung up on you"- Caroline said enthusiastically.

"And so what if he is. What's the point. He will leave again. Maybe already in a few days when the wedding is done. And I am so stupid to even cry over someone like him. I wish I had never met him."- Y/N said with an angry tone.

"And what if he is not"- Caroline said.

"Please can we talk about something else- like are we going out to the movies."

Caroline was not so happy about Y/N swaying of the subject. She would want to now dissect every detail of the conversation, of the move he made, her friend made, what his facial expression was. And, of course make an elaborative plan how to get the man of her friend’s dream back. But, she understood that Y/N wouldn’t want to rake through her heartache involving this particular man, and she now said somewhat resigned with a huff-

"We can do. Streets of Fire are on. Or rebel without a cause"- Caroline said.

"Streets of Fire"- Y/N chose.

"So- how about the non-bachelorette party?"- Caroline asked-"she didn't invite you even though you are Stefans +1"- by she the blonde meant Rebekah.

"Are you kidding me? She would rather have her head shaved than invite me. And who wants to be with those five fakes anyway"- Y/N now referred to Rebekah's female clique. 

"You're right"- Caroline said.

"Plus, I don't think I will go. He will be there"

"Elijah is her brother, of course he will be there.”

"Exactly"- Y/N said.

"But, you are Stefan's +1"- Caroline stressed out again.

"I can't be around Stefan now. Last night-  when he kissed me and we started - you know- but- when he touched me- I could not be with him. I don't know why- I pushed him away- and he left pissed off-"

"Seriously? Did you really push him away?"

"I did. Told him that I was tired and - never mind. I really have a headache. Can we have a rain check. I really don’t feel like going anywhere.”

"Oh, no. You can't stay at home. It would look like you are pining over him- Elijah I mean. And everyone will be out on the town tonight. It’s the bachelor and bachelorette night of the year I also heard there will be a chickie run tonight. De Martels are organizing it. It's all a hush thing- but everyone who is everyone will be there. You can’t miss this.”

Chickie run or a chicken race was a illegal race thing, where guys test their gall and bravery by taking their cars to the cliff and racing them towards the edge. The first one who jumps out is considered chicken.

Y/N hated such things. And she only went once to it back in High School.

"I am not going there."- Y/N said-"it's such an immature thing to do."

"Right. Movies then"- Caroline said.

"Yes, the movies. Ok. Let me change." - Y/N now went to her wardrobe and started looking at the dresses and sweaters. Finally she got her skinny jeans out and decided to wear a white shirt with it. She put her new red high heel shoes, and wrapped a short red scarf around her neck. Deciding after a while what to do with her hair, she pulled it up in a ponytail.

“Ready”- she said to her friend as she got out of the bathroom, giving herself one more look in the mirror.

_____

Earlier, at the Mikaelson Mansion

After the meeting with Y/N at the Lake, Elijah went directly back to the Mansion.  And straight to their gym, down in the area of the cellar. He took his jacket off- put the boxing gloves on  and got all of his frustration out on the punching bag.

Klaus walked in the gym having been told by the many wedding staff that they saw Elijah go down to it. Elijah was still kicking the soul out of the bag.

"I gather you were with Y/N"-his brother remarked. 

Elijah stopped for a second, sweat dripping down his forehead now looking at Klaus-

"What is it? You don't have to check upon me. I just- I will be fine."

"Sure you will."- Klaus said-"ahm- well, Kol and I are going to the bachelor thing. Well, we are crushing it. Wanna come- you can actually punch the real face out of Stefan Salvatore"

"Not interested. We may not like the Salvatores, but Rebekah does. At least one of them. If he comes to the wedding with a busted lip, she will have your guts for garters."- Elijah now took the boxing gloves off adding-"This is my mess. I left the girl broken hearted. It has nothing to do with him." - Elijah grabbed his jacket now and walked out of the gym. 

Klaus followed him continuing to talk him into going out with them anyway. Maybe he would find someone else. Y/N could not be the only woman, surely, Klaus egged him on to look somewhere else.

"Not for me" Elijah said as they walked upstairs to their bedrooms-"why are you bothered so much about me. How is your love life? Kol tells me you and the bartender got close more than once. Forever playing the field? She seems a sweet woman"

"Camille? Well, yeah, she is sweet. But she doesn't move me"- Klaus said.

"Father will expect grandchildren soon"- Elijah said.

"Are you serious? What I am supposed to put shackles on just because he wants an heir. Rebekah is giving him one"

"But you are the first born"- Elijah now joked at the expense of his brother adding-"you know what he is like. Old school- Rebekah will be a Salvatore tomorrow, so- "

"So, you go and find someone and make him loads of grandkids. You're the marrying kind, which brings me to the point- you were so in love with Y/N, and I know she was crazy about her- how come you didn't ask her?"

Elijah now gave Klaus a serious look-"You're seriously asking me this"

"I am seriously asking you this"- Klaus said.

"Did you not see me the way I was when they got me out of that wretched place? By some strange providence I made it alive. And with my body limbs in tact"

When Elijah was rescued from the Burmese prison, Klaus went with Mikael to the Navy hospital in California where they transported Elijah. They could barely recognize him. He was skinny, malnourished. Had broken arm, leg. Beaten severely and mentally tortured. The op went horribly wrong as one of Elijah's squad was a traitor. Elijah spent more than  a year and a half recovering in California. No one knew about it, except for Klaus and Mikael and they were sworn to secrecy. The real truth was kept from Esther, as well as Kol and Rebekah.

Klaus now just nodded his face serious as well, muttering a sorry.

Elijah hated bringing all of that up and now told his brother that he would go get a shower and joined them a little later. 

All the time in California, he worked hard on his recovery. Mental and physical. All that time, as well as in prison, Y/N was always on his mind and in his heart. The thought of her had made him survive when he thought he would break down completely. Many times, during his recovery he would go to the phone and stand there wanting to make a call. But what could he say. And it would not be fair to her to drag her into his messed up world. She should be free to live a life without difficulties and study. He didn't want to take her away from her studies. Little did he know that she would abandon her pre- med and settle to be a nurse instead.

As he was leaving the Mansion, he caught up with Rebekah, who was going out herself-

"Please, make sure they don't get drunk like skunks. Damon, too. I want a nice day tomorrow. That goes for you, too "

"You have my word Miss Mikaelson"- Elijah saluted the blonde.

"Don't joke, Elijah. I'm serious"- Rebekah slapped him across the arm.

"I'm not joking. That's my mission for the night. I know what they are like"

"Good. I'm so happy you're back."- Rebekah said scampering away as her friends now arrived in a car to pick her up.

Elijah got into his Porsche and drove off as well.

💗💜❤️

The full moon smiled down at everyone that night. The bachelor party as well as the bachelorette party started off as usual. Drinks, dance, strippers appearing in each party. Elijah keeping a watchful eye at his brothers, till the De Martel brothers and friends appeared- crashing the party and causing everyone to  end up on the Mystic Hill on a dare. It was, of course about the Chickie race thing.

No matter how hard Elijah tried to convince Damon and Kol not to get into it, nothing could be achieved.

"You of all people know what honour means. This is not the navy, but I have to keep my honour up there"- Kol spat drunken at his brother.

Klaus, who had a bone to pick with Tristan anyway now said that he would go against him.

In all that craziness, Stefan arrived with his biker mates. Y/N and Caroline followed having heard in the diner about the race taking place.

She was a bit surprised seeing Elijah there, but it was soon clear that he tried to stop all of them involved from doing something stupid. And then, something extraordinary happened. One of Stefan's Ripper biker mates punched Lucian as he spat at the biker about something, which blew into a big punch up. In all the madness now Stefan, who was fuelled earlier by Enzo about how he saw Y/N and Elijah together talking sweetly to one another,  went  to Elijah swinging a punch at him. Elijah gave the biker as good as he got. Seeing what was happening, Y/N could not keep away as she knew this was about her now went to separate them, wedging herself between them- "STOP IT"- "ARE YOU MAD- ENOUGH! "

As both men felt their jaws now looking at each other with raging eyes,  someone shouted that cops were on the way, Stefan looked at Y/N meaning are you coming and she shook her head slightly meaning  a no. He just waved with his hand at her a whatever running away to his bike disappearing in the night with his friends.

Elijah now grabbed Y/N’s hand and they ran to his Porsche, her now shouting at him that she has to get Caroline.

"I saw her get away with Klaus"- Elijah said-”come on. We got to get away”

"Are you sure?"- Y/N asked.

"Yes. Don't worry. He'll take care of her."-Elijah replied.

"Ok"- Y/N said slipping inside Elijah’s Porsche now. Him pressing the gas full on, with the car screeching, they literally flying away from the place into the night.

-to be continued-

[waywardimpalawriter]

Private Dancer NSFW +18

Private Dancer

Summary: After a long hard mission it’s always nice to come home to a little teasing and maybe something more.

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Reader, Marie Hill

Setting: Future

Rating: M for mature audience no one under 18 please. NSFW

Warnings: smut (wrap it if ya gonna tap it people), NSFW, PWP, daddy kink, slight Dom!Steve, language, mentions of being hurt,

Word count: 5,202

Notes: Written for @emilyevanston #kate’s cards against humanity challenge, I chose Making a pouty face. Also this is the first time I’m writing Steve smut so I’m very sorry if it’s utter crap. Happy reading.

Tag list:

Forever: @winters-buck @angryschnauzer @marvel-lucy @feelmyroarrrr @aquabrie @thetalesofmooseandsquirrel @supernaturallymarvellous @fandommaniacx

Marvel: @sebbytrash @ek823 @creideamhgradochas @marvelfanfichq @melconnor2007

  “Any word on when Steve’s coming home?” You asked for what felt like to Maria the thousandth time but really just the tenth.

 Rolling her eyes she knew you’re worried that Steve missed his last check in. Not that it meant anything but it could’ve and nothing good either.

 “No Y/N there’s not,” sighing while raking a hand through her shoulder length brown hair. “I know your anxious for news but pacing my office isn’t going to help much but wear a hole in the carpet.”

 “I know I’m sorry Maria,” giving her a sheepish half smile before taking the seat in front of her desk quietly making a pouty face. One that’s half prudent child the other half worried girlfriend hating not going along to watch Steve’s back. “It’s just why haven’t any of them radioed in to let us know something anything at this point,” words coming out while tapping your fingers on the side of your chair.

 “You and I both know Cap will keep to radio silence when things get bad,” eyes glued to the screen in front of her looking up at the tapping to see the pout on your lips. “Why don’t you go get something to eat, take a nap something to get your mind off what’s going on.”

 Catching her brown eyes, “I can’t I’m too worried about what might happen to eat and sleep well that hasn’t been happening much since Steve went on the mission. I don’t,” swallowing harshly you look down at your hands. “I don’t sleep well when he’s not home,” shrugging it off while rising to leave.

 “I get it Y/N when I’m alone sleep doesn’t always come so easy either,” giving you a rare soft smile. “I hear there’s some of Nat’s famous homemade chocolate left why don’t you grab some and relax somewhere for a little bit. I’ll give you a buzz when I hear something.”

 Nodding you turn to go, “Thank you for putting up with me. I know I shouldn’t worry so much but I can’t help it.”

 “No trouble really,” watching you go and once the door closes Maria gets back to work plotting the murder of one star spangled man when her ear piece buzzed, “That better be you Captain Rogers you have a lady here worrying her head off and no it ain’t me.”

 “I’m gonna make it up to her promise Hill,” she could hear grunts and what sounded like the rustling of paper packaging. “We’re almost home.”  

 “Define almost?” getting up to check and see if you’ve double backed she didn’t want you over hearing the conversation if something major’s wrong.

 “We’ll be home in an hour, two tops. If Wilson flies straight and we don’t crash land,” Steve returned as someone grunted in pain.

 Cursing, “Is your ass hurt Rogers? You promised it would be an easy in and out op. What in fucking hell happened?”

 “First of all language Ms. Hill,” gruff laughter is heard that she knows belongs to Wilson. Before Steve continues, “Second it’s not me who decided to get his self-shot in the arm.”  

 “Which buffoon is bleeding all over the quinjet?” came her salty reply with a hard roll of her cool chocolate colored eyes.

 “That would be this buffoon clearly dying since Bird brain doesn’t know how to fly a fuckin jet and Rogers can’t bandage his way out of a paper bag,” came a very pain filled answer from Bucky.

 “Careful Buck or I might just forget which part of you I’m taping up and it’ll be your mouth that gets covered instead,” Steve retorted with his own grunt as if he got knocked over. “Keep her steady Sam we’re bouncing around like beach balls back here.”

 “Just get your asses back here like yesterday. You have Y/N worried; pacing the floors since you didn’t bothered checking in till now and keeping secrets. She finds out it’ll be your ass not mine.”

 “Cover for me don’t worry about Y/N I’ll take care of her,” she could hear Steve sigh into the com.

 “You’re gonna need heavy groveling punk and I sooo… fucking ouch man watch it,” Bucky hissed the sound of someone most likely Steve, being hit.

 “Deserved it jerk,” before he realized the coms were still active. “See ya in a bit Rogers out.”

 Shaking her head Maria pinched the bridge of her nose; thinking it’s seriously like rounding up children sometimes. With that thought in mind she goes to find you. Finally relaxing in one of the overstuffed arm chairs in the living room, chocolate in one hand, book in the other and what probably is a mug of hot tea resting on the little end table next to you.

 “Y/N,” watching as you glance up in acknowledgement hope in those expressive eyes. “He’s okay won’t be back till morning though, you might as well get some rest.”

 “At least I know he’s okay that’s something,” closing your book with a sigh, standing to stretch your legs and grab your empty mug. “Thank you for letting me know Maria,” a slight slump in your shoulders as you pass by her a soft smile is given while leaving.

 Dropping off your mug to wander for a good twenty minutes through your apartment floor knowing most are asleep your footsteps are quiet. Finally heading to the apartment you shared with Steve. To slip off your day clothes a quick bath and lotion down before putting on his dark blue dress shirt that you love and makes you feel connected to him. Crawling into bed his pillow clutched in your arms the faint scent of his cologne and something that’s all Steve tickles your nose as your eyes start to get a little droopy.

 Shooting up a noise having drawn you from sleep you reach under the pillow your head rested on for the Beretta Nano 9mm that you’ve got concealed there. Something your normally would’ve put away if Steve had been home but as they say old habits die hard even when you live in a state of the art compound like this one. Slowly slipping from your bed to creep towards the bedroom door pushing it back to peer into the darken living room. Gun at your side as your eyes adjust to the semi lighted room making out a human shaped shadow by the front door.

 “You value your life I suggest you leave now,” voice strong as you raised your weapon preparing to fire.

 Lights came on, “You gonna shoot me doll?” Steve asked shield raised in defense as his eyes peer over the top rim. How he could look so adorable and fearsome at the same time you’ll never know. “First Peggy shoots me now you I just don’t have a good track record with dames.”

 Hearing the mirth in his tone shield being lowered to lean against the wall by the door you lay your gun on the coffee table before sprinting towards him. Throwing yourself into his arms with a small leap and cry; burying your face in his neck, arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist. The rough Kevlar material of his uniform chaffing against the soft skin of your inner thighs but you could care less. Steve is home, in one piece that you could tell and safe that’s what really mattered.

 Pulling back just enough to pepper his face with little kisses making him laugh and grip your ass so he can walk the two of you towards his favorite arm chair and sit down with you straddling his lap. “I take it your missed me princess?”

 That pouty face returns this time directed at Steve, “You’ve been gone four days and to top it off no check in when you were supposed to. So I grew worried isn’t like I wasted away waiting for your return.”

 Shaking his head hands sprayed over your back, “Hmm I’m sure doll,” brow lifting knowing you would’ve seen to your duties and any mission that might have popped up. “Any missions while I was gone?” his eyes’ taking in the parts of your body he can see that’s not hidden by his shirt he now realizes. Not that he’d complain. You always did look better in his clothes. Plus that primal possessiveness that always overcome him when he’s caught you wearing something that belonged to him. A claiming of sorts that no one is privy to not that he’d let’em in the first place.

 “Just two sir,” your answer is quick with a touch of bashfulness to it now that you’re in his arms. Having forgotten your place in the worry and sleepiness but now returning as you go to slip from his lap.

 However strong hands stop you from doing so staying wrapped around your hips keeping you flush against him. “No moving doll I just want to hold you right now.”

 Snuggling into his arms you begin to play with the straps on his suit his warmth, the light scent of after shave and leather reaching your nose making your squirm in his arms. “Daddy,” you venture leaning back to stare into those beautiful baby blues.

 Grinning knowing what’s running through your mind, “What’s the matter princess?”

 “I missed you,” you smile innocently.

 “Were you good while I was gone?” watching you nod Steve tangles one hand in the hair at the base of your neck tipping your head back so he can run his nose up the soft column of your throat to your  lips. Capturing them in a gentle kiss, one that belies the hungry which lurks deep within the both of you and has you melting against him tongue slipping out to tease the seam of your lips.

 Granting access so he may slide his tongue against yours the play for dominance begins one you know he’ll win and leave you panting and wiggling for more. Pillaging your mouth with a ravenous appetite that only your willing body can sate the very thought which accompanies his hands to roam your body. Fingers tracing under your/his shirt to touch soft skin tip toeing up your body to just under each breast whispered touches that make you moan into his mouth and suck hard on his tongue.

 Air becoming an issue, you ask the question his kisses burned away till now. “Why didn’t you radio in Steve?” voice laced with concern, gone is the sub that was just here a second ago.

 Resting your foreheads together the hand at that base of your neck cards through your hair soothing to his fried nerves he knows you’re asking out of love and worry. “Com’s got knocked out on our way back to the quinjet during the last raid. Sam tried to repair on the fly but didn’t have the parts. I’m sorry to have worried you princess.”

 You could see something haunted him a sadness that wasn’t there when he left. “What happened Steve? You seem different.”    

 Swallowing thickly burying his face in the hollow of your throat you’re very present rooting him to the here and now. “Buck got shot,” he began feeling your fingers in his hair. “Not that he hasn’t been shot before he’s littered with holes and not just the ones in his head either,” trying to make a joke that you don’t find funny. Continuing, “We managed to free the villagers but one family parents and young girl,” shaking his head, “We… I couldn’t save them Y/N we were too late to do nothing more than watch as the life was drained from their eyes.”

 “You know it wasn’t your fault right Steve?” bringing his head back so your eyes could lock and he could see the love and devotion you held for him.  

 “Doesn’t stop me from thinking it does doll,” sadness dulling his gorgeous eyes.

 Thinking a moment, “Then let me help you forget even for just a little while,” rising from his lap you smile at the pout he now gives you. “No pouting daddy that’s my job remember?”

 “Be a good girl and come back to my lap princess,” he growls needing your arms around him.

 Shaking your head, “Please daddy let me do this for you?” eyes pleading. One shake of his head has you running off to the bedroom.

 Quickly getting into your black silk stockings and matching garter belt. Leaving your panties on the bedroom floor you took off the button up to get into the matching lace bra before putting his shirt back on leaving the first three buttons undone. Adding a touch of red lipstick and his favorite perfume oil you check to make sure your hair is good with a little smoothing out because of his fingers you step into your heels and towards the door. Diming the living room lights putting on Brain McKnight’s “The only one for me” deep smooth voice fills the room as you appear in the bedroom door. Backlighted leaning against the jam watching Steve look your way.

 Slowly he licks his lips eyes roaming from your black heeled feet, over your curve’s, lingering on the cleavage that has his mouth going dry on up to lock eyes with you, “Hello daddy,” soft sensual smile gracing your lips as you step into the living room fully.

 A sway to your hips with each step that takes you to stand in front of him shaking your head when he reaches out to touch you, “Baby girl,” a warning growl in his deepen voice.

 “Not yet daddy,” rocking your hips in time to the best changing to circling them every few measures feeling the already short shirt rise up to expose your naked bum.

 He’s reaching out to take your wrist wanting to have you back in his arms again, having missed the softness of your skin, scent of your hair and the way you fit just right in his arms. However, before he gets the chance you’ve twirled away just a few inches. Still facing him your eyes locked with his as your hands have a mind of their own and plot a course to smooth down your sides to your hips as they gently sway to the soft R&B beat. Sensual movements that tempt Steve with every sway and roll of your body, you turn bending at the waist to draw your hands up from your ankles to hips. Fingers’ slowly pushing each little button out till the shirt hangs open but your back is still to him so you drop one side off your shoulder. Glancing back at him, one hand on the shirt to keep it from falling off seeing the heat and desire swimming in those baby blues.

  Turning keeping the shirt closed while stepping up towards him you take that moment to step back towards him. Spreading his legs to slip her ass between and rub against his growing erection that tents his uniform pants. Feeling his sneaky fingers start to work your shirt up to squeeze an ass cheek in his callused palm. Giving in for a moment you sit firmly in his lap still rocking against his hand and cock using the arm of his chair and reaching back to card through his hair helping you to ride him slowly. Legs pushing you backwards into him then sliding forward feeling his other hand drop fingers tracing up the inside of your thigh. Coming in contact with nothing but soft wet skin and curly little hairs that makes him smirk into your neck.

 “Oh baby girl you’ve been so naughty,” he growls tip toeing from one side to the other never giving in and touching you where you need him most. Knowing how wet and wanting you are but this is about distraction more than satisfaction no matter how much you want him to sink three fingers deep into your tight wet heat. Right now is about letting him watch and forget.

 Therefore you stand pushing him back into his seat as he reaches for you. Straddling one thigh shirt hanging open exposing your breasts just enough to make his mouth water at the sight of your peaked nipples. Your own hands coming up to rest on his shoulders gliding your wet folds over his thigh gaining his attention as your wetness starts to seep into his uniform.

 “Daddy may I ride you?” voice just as innocent but lust blown eyes watch him carefully.

 Grasping the open shirt, Steve pulls it from your body and tosses it away another low long groan leaving his lips at the sight of you. “All this for me princess? Looking so beautiful in your stockings and heels.” tearing his eyes away from your body to lock with yours, licking dry lips as a smirk slides over them. “Use me baby girl but remember you have to ask first before you come.”

 Nodding you take one hand in yours bringing to index finger to your mouth to suck on while brushing your core over his tightened thigh that now has a slow bounce to it. Nipping at the pad as a groan leaves your mouth. The hand on his shoulder helps you stay up right while his free hand guides you over his thigh rocking back and forth languidly your head tossed back in ecstasy.  

 Pulling his finger free to draw is down your throat to your peaked nipples, wet tip circling the tight bud before pinching hard making you yelp in pleasurable pain and pick up a quicker pace. With both your hands resting on his shoulders it frees up his hands to cup and squeeze your breasts enjoying them filling his palms. Fingers toying with each nipple in turn as he leans forward to suck on one glancing up to see your head tossed back making your chest thrust forward. A devilish grin pulls at his lips that bite down on the little tender bud just as a sound smack lands on your ass cheek making you let out a soft scream that turns into a moan. His large callus hand massaging over the sting while his tongue sooths the bit on your nipple.

 “Daddy,” you whimper rocking quicker over his thigh the rough texture of his suit combine with the light shocks of pain only drives you closer to the edge.

 You can feel the tight coil in your tummy, the tingles across your veins, breath picking up with each drag of your clit over that hard thigh that keeps flexing under you. So lost in the pleasure you don’t notice at first the hands on your ass guiding you quicker spreading your ass so that his thigh digs in a little more. Mouth trailing wet kisses over every inch of skin he can reach. Marks are being left on your collarbone and neck, another hard smack to your ass a reminder of who’s in charge here.

 Your sweet moans and breathy pleas driving him insane with need, as his fingers grip your ass tighter helping ride him. “You gotta ask princess or you better not come,” he growls into your ear bouncing his thigh as your ass pops back and he lands another smack causing you to shake.

 Face nuzzling into his neck, “Please daddy, feels so good, so close, may I come?”

 Music to his ears, he takes his hands from your body sitting back to watch. “Go on princess fuck yourself on my thigh. God baby you look so good like that blissed out and so needy, my little slut wanting to come.”

 Whimpering pressing down harder, release building with each pass, strength waning your eyes locked with his still waiting for those magic words. Head starting to get fuzzy, your moans a little louder each time, your own thighs squeezing around his as he bounces again. Tightening and relaxing his thigh that tight coil of need ready to snap. “Please daddy I’ve been so… so good may I?”

 Leaning forward just enough to whisper, “Come for me Y/N I wanna see you and hear you princess.”

 Permission given you let go, moving quicker over his thigh knowing there’ll be bruises and marks tomorrow but not caring as the pleasure becomes too much. The friction of his uniform against your clit is to much as that coil finally snaps your movements beginning to loose cohesion as you scream out his name. Body shaking, feeling a set of hands on your waist helping to drag yourself over his thigh a few more times till the sensitivity becomes too much and you slump forward into his arms.

 Soothing hands run over your back, soft deep voice speaking into your ear, “So good for me baby girl. Watching you come like that baby I’m so proud of you,” kissing your cheek then lips while caressing your hair with one hand helping you to sit in his lap sideways. “How do you feel princess?”

 “Hmm,” a loopy blissful smile on your lips snuggling into his arms, “thank you daddy that was amazing.”          

 Standing carrying you bridal style, Steve takes you into the bedroom laying you down before going to grab a warm wash cloth and cleaning you up. Brushing a few strands of hair from your face, “Rest my love I’ll take care of everything.”

 Nodding you watch with stated eyes as he takes special care to get you out of those stockings, garter belt and heels. Warm wash cloth cleaning you up with gentle hands a soft kiss pressed to your forehead before he heads back to the bathroom. Wanting him to come to bed but you knew he had to shower, so you move up to sit against the headboard waiting for him to rejoin you. He didn’t take long, as steam processed Steve who steps into the room in just his boxers.

 “Still awake baby girl?” leaning back into the bathroom to toss his towel in the hamper.

 Nodding, opening your arms to him, “I can’t sleep without you handsome,” that pout reappearing on your lips as Steve chuckles a shake of his head.

 Pausing by his dresser eyes taking in your naked body, eyes shining bright with love, hair spilling over your shoulders, “I’m one lucky son of a bitch,” he breathed knowing there’d never be anyone else for him, you were it.

 “Steve?” sitting forwards in bed, cool air brushing over your skin creating goosebumps as you watch him walk towards the bed.

 With purpose in his stride Steve’s beside the bed, cupping your cheek in his hand brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. Lips lower to glide over yours in a soft barely there kiss. As you scooch back up the bed, Steve follows straddling your legs while you lay back and he hovers over you. Dusting your face and neck with butterfly kisses that make you giggle and squirm under him.

 “I love you Y/N,” he breathed into your mouth before capturing it in a deep searching kiss.

 A licking over tongues, melding of mouths to find the right positions to make each other moan. His fingers carding through your hair to hold you in place while he drinks deeply from the well of his desire. Tasting and teasing the both of you till small moans slip between paired lips, sighs of contentment followed by groans of frustration. Because you’re trying to push his boxers down and Steve won’t move enough just yet to let you.

 Pinching his side lips leaving yours panting to stare at you, “Boxers off now please need you daddy,” another moan leaving your lips feeling how hard he is already for you.

 Nodding, Steve stands pulling his black boxer briefs of cock springing free that he takes in hand pumping a few times. Cheshire cat grin on his lips climbing back into bed, “Fast and hard or slow and deep?”

 “Slow and deep please, I wanna feel you Steve all of you,” pulling him into your arms legs wrapping around his waist to buck against him. Feeling the slide of his shaft along your folds sends shivers of delight through your body.

 Grinning, “Yes ma’am,” capturing your mouth in a quick kiss before slipping from between your legs and flipping you on your stomach landing a sound smack to your ass. “Hands and knees princess,” groaning at the sight of you all spread out, back arched just right.

 Looking over your shoulder seeing him in a daze, a giggle slips out, “Like what you see daddy?”

“You know it princess,” lands another smack to the opposite cheek soothing it with slow circles to ease the sting.

 Watching with hooded eyes as he spreads you open with the hand on your ass using the other to line his cock up before pushing in slowly. Just the tip at first backing out and reentering with just the crown a few times; teasing the both of you till you wiggle your ass and push back wanting him to fill you. For your cheek Steve smacks your ass once more pushing his hand in making the cheek wiggle around the side of his cock. Before he gives in and thrusts forward filling you till he bottoms out and pauses so you can adjust to having him inside you.

 Gritting his teeth at the feeling of your walls squeezing the crap out of his cock, he tries to stay as still as he can waiting for you. Letting out a breathe when a deep moan leaves yours lips and you rock forward a little then back again fucking yourself on his cock. Hands wrap around your hips digging in as he pulls out ever so slowly and slams back in repeating twice more, before giving you little short thrusts. Whimpers and moans spurring him on, the sounds of skin meeting, bed creaking, combined with his own little growls and groans the other things heard in their room.

 One hand leaves your hip to trace patterns over your back knowing how sensitive and ticklish it is the tingles heighten your pleasure. The contact making you squirm and push back ass wiggling against him as that hand flattens out, pushing your chest into the bed making your ass pop up more as his strokes get deeper. Knowing in this position he’s hitting your g-spot with each slow stroke in. Your walls clenching around his throbbing cock causing him to pick up the pace the sound of skin slapping growing. Still trying to keep it slow letting you feel every inch of him but with each passing second his stomach tightens, balls drawing up to his body. Knowing he’s not going to last much longer with the way you’re gripping him so tightly.

 Panting, eyes rolling back into your head hands grip the sheets under you pleasure shooting through your body with every deep thrust. His cock brushing your g-spot making you see stars every time, little whimpers leaving your parted lips that can’t seem to drag in enough air. Thankful that you don’t have to hold yourself up otherwise you’d be shaking like a new born foal.

 “Please daddy faster,” words coming out stuttered a moan following as he does what you’ve asked and pounded into you.

 Making the whole bed shake, the mattress bouncing you back against him as his hips thrust forward that one hand keeping you close by your hips. As the other cards through your hair at the base of your neck; grabbing a handful and tugging your head back just enough so that you feel the sting. Knowing how much you enjoy the pleasurable pain as his mouth lands on your shoulder nipping, sucking marks into your soft skin.

 Low growl leaves his lips pace becoming choppy wanting you to come first he lets your hair go but not before moving it to one side so he can bury his face in your neck. Nuzzling laying sweet biting kisses to every inch he can reach while that hand trails down your body to circle your clit. Using just the right amount of pressure to make you whimper and push back into him.

 “Come for me princess I know your close, come all over my cock,” he groans into your ear nipping the shell pinching your clit between thumb and index feeling your walls quiver.

 Twice more he thrusts into your tight core before you come screaming his name into the mattress. Panting with little moans as he keeps moving inside you till stiffening on the third thrust into the warm wet depths of your body stilling; his release painting her walls. A silent pray that maybe his little guys will take root and they’ll be blessed with a child. Hearing you whimper knowing you’re just as oversensitive as he is, Steve pulls out slowly helping you to lie on your side before collapsing in the spot you’d been laying.

 Wrapping you up in his embrace keeping you close to his side fingers tracing your back as the both of you descend from your sexual high. “Marry me Y/N?” the words are out of his mouth before he knows what he’s saying.

 “Yes,” you answer softly looking up at him with bright teary eyes big grin on your lips.

 “I mean you don’t have to answer that I can ask better in a different way something more… Wait… what did you say?” shock has him stuttering with mouth hanging open.

  In such a state it gave you the leverage to push Steve onto his back and prop yourself on an elbow staring down into his wide baby blues. “I said yes Steve, yes I’ll marry you.”

 He doesn’t say anything more, just kisses you senseless pushing the both of you back into the bed where he hovers over you wearing a goofy grin. “You sure? You’re not just pulling my leg?” fear crosses those beautiful eyes of his.

 Cupping both cheeks smile still firmly in place, “Yes I’m sure and no I’m not pulling your leg. I would never do something like that Steve you know that.”

 “I do but I had to be sure,” kissing you one last time before getting out of bed buck naked to his top dresser drawer pulling a small blue velvet box from the confines.

 Siting up on your knees watching while he comes back to bed opening the little box to show a simple princess cut ruby set in a silver band. “Oh Steve it’s beautiful,” tears fill your eyes as he takes your hand pulling the ring from its velvet confines to slip it on your finger kissing the knuckle.

 “Your more beautiful than any treasures of this world,” leaning in to kiss you softly.

 “Such a sweet talker you are Steve,” giggling against his mouth as you pull him back into bed. The two of you getting comfortable your eyes straying to the ring on your finger then up to his eyes. “I love you Steve so very much.”

 Shit eating grin on his lips, “I know princess…ow,” having smacked his stomach for his cheek. Steve takes that hand holding it to his heart. “I love you to Y/N.”  

[theliterateape]

The Adventures of Aborted Andy | Episode I: Meeting Your Maker

By David Himmel

HE TOOK AIM FROM HIS ROOFTOP PERCH. The tripod steady on the rake, he breathed in measured breaths. A gentle gust of wind. He delicately adjusted his scope to account for the shift. Not that it was a hard shot. Andy was only ninety-five yards out. The morning sun was at his back, which was a double bonus. No glare for him and a blind for those looking to see where the shot may have come from. Andy couldn’t have asked for a better mark at a better location.

Maria’s shift at Turnip, Atlanta’s hottest new vegetarian restaurant, started at ten o’clock. She preferred the lunch shift. The hour of prep work before opening was her own little therapy session. Polishing the silverware, rolling the napkins, setting up the soup and salad stations, brewing the coffee… it gave her time to think without having to think about it. Nothing specific, just a chance to be alone and quiet with whatever thoughts were in her head that day. Working the lunch shift meant she could be home in the evenings for her kids, Miguel and Rosa. The money wasn’t bad. A lot of business meetings occurred on her shift. It turned out that vegetarians prefer their tofu, kale, and sprouts with alcohol.

The Planned Parenthood Andy had lined up in his sight was just a few blocks from Turnip. It was a convenient way to take care of an inconvenience. Her appointment was at nine sharp. Fifteen to twenty minutes in and out then off to work. Andy checked his Luminex Evo Navy Seal Blackout watch. 8:56 a.m. He looked at the building through his binoculars to see Maria rounding the corner. He followed her into the building with the scope’s crosshairs covering her head. He adjusted his position and scope once more. Then he waited, breathing those measured breaths just like he’d been taught.

As Maria exited, she looked upwards, perhaps toward God, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Andy clicked the safety off with his thumb and took one last slow breath as he wrapped his finger around the trigger. He squeezed. Maria opened her eyes. Andy thought she looked sad as the rifle’s muzzle flashed in his scope. Maria’s head jerked back as the bullet pierced through her shattering the glass doors of the Planned Parenthood behind her with blood, gray matter, skull fragments, and a twisted, hot piece of lead. She dropped to her knees then slumped over with her bleeding head resting peacefully on the curb.

Andy disassembled his weapon with lighting speed. He packed it away in the black backpack made specifically for a weapon of this sort. He bolted to the roof access door as fast as his little, chubby legs would carry him. He made his way through the condo/office building stairwell without being noticed just as he had done on his way up. Andy was good at his job. And for a nine-month-old baby, he was really good at it.

✶ 

THERE’S A PLACE FOR THE UNBORN DEAD. One that exists in the heavens complete with the best parts of a Black Ops training facility and a McDonald’s indoor play area. It’s where the babies—fetuses—aborted by their mothers might find themselves. Unaware of who they are or where they came from, these fetuses are collected and turned into weapons of revenge. They were born into an afterlife of service to a vengeful being operating in the darkest shadows far off the radars of Heaven and Hell. Black Ops for Babies with one mission: Provide balance to life on Earth. A life for a life. One moment the fetus is alive, warm and unaware, in its mother’s womb and the next it is standing in the presence of a magnificent dark lord literally on new legs that would have grown had Mommy Dearest not terminated that opportunity. The baby is taught to hunt, kill, and hide in plain site while on Earth executing its mark. And when vengeance is served, the young, undead assassin returns to the void the magnificent dark lord calls home.

✶

 ANDY WOKE FROM HIS NAP in his Pack ’n Play filled with pacifiers and Baby Einstein gadgets against siding made of flaming mesh. He reached for the bottle in the corner by his head and took a long drink. It was time for another mission. That was Andy’s existence: Mission —> nap —> snack —> mission.

He was sent by the shadow-cloaked demon who collected the souls of the aborted babies to Peoria, Illinois. It was a beautiful day in Detweiller Park. Larissa was enjoying an iced coffee from Starbucks and a book in the sun. She had finally gotten around to reading The Da Vinci Code. She felt self-conscious reading it in public like that. But she was a distracted college student when the book was all the rage a decade-and-a-half ago. These were her early thirties. These were her best days.

She loved her job as a social worker helping the elderly and the poor find work, homes, solace in their lives built on disadvantage. She was house hunting with her boyfriend of six years, Freddy. They were finally having serious talks about marriage and kids. Larissa was enjoying every moment of every day. She was free. She was untethered. She was happy. And she knew she deserved it. Her childhood and teenage years and twenties were hard. A drunk mom, an absent dad, a GED she barely passed, a collegiate life that left her with debt and a short rap sheet for minor crimes like public drunkenness and shoplifting hair conditioner from a CVS. A sunny day in the park with a book that was good enough to keep her turning the pages but not good enough to warrant all the hype it received more than a decade ago.

She felt hungry and considered packing up and grabbing some Chipotle. But she and Freddy had big dinner plans. Today was their meet-iversary and Freddy was surprising her with a romantic dinner somewhere. Larissa was sure he was going to cook for her, which would be disappointing if she didn’t have an affinity for a handsome, overweight, and kind coder trying his damndest to be both Chef Gordon Ramsay and Adonis. So she sacrificed her hunger and focused on Dan Brown’s Illuminati conspiracy.

 Andy toddled through the woods. He found a fallen tree about one hundred and twenty yards away from the clearing where Larissa was enjoying her day. He unpacked his rifle, assembled it and, without realizing it, wet his diaper. But because Andy was a specter of sorts and a tool of an off-the-grid demon, the diaper remained dry. Diaper rash was the assassin’s greatest foe, which gave Andy and his cohorts an advantage. He used his binoculars to confirm his mark. Larissa. He set the binoculars down and took aim with his rifle. He breathed in measured breaths. He considered the wind and the humidity. He adjusted his scope. He aligned the sight hairs on Larissa’s face. This would be easy.

 As he clicked off the safety and wrapped his finger around the trigger, he paused. He recognized her.

 What was this? A feeling of… uncertainty? This was unfamiliar to him. He was a baby. A baby with a gun but a baby who for the first time felt remorse. He looked up from the scope. Setting the rifle down, he reached for the binoculars. He looked closer at Larissa. She was beautiful. Her jet black hair was curled naturally in the humidity and it bounced gracefully against the top of her shoulders with each turn of the page or sip of iced coffee. It reflected the sun at times blinding his view. Her bright green eyes were focused on the book but exuded a kindness and calm he’d never known since… since he was in utero.

“Fuck you, Mommy,” Andy said in the most adorable baby talk ever.

Andy was an aborted baby. His soul scooped up by a demon and taught to murder. He knew nothing else until this moment. The moment he made one hundred and twenty yard contact with his mother who had aborted him a little more than a decade ago. He took time watching Larissa through the binoculars. She read, he watched. She sipped iced coffee, he watched. She let the late spring sunshine toast her naturally golden skin to a gentle pink. He watched

After some time, Andy surveyed the rest of the park. Young women sunbathing; empty nesters walking; people jogging; an elderly European immigrant in a Speedo doing yoga; twentysomething guys throwing frisbees; a boy and his dad tossing a baseball back and forth; dogs chasing sticks and tennis balls. The park was rich with life. To Andy, it was beautiful. And he realized that he wanted to live. He wanted to get sunburned in May killing time in a park. He wanted to have a dog. He wanted to sit with his mother.

He picked the rifle up again, took aim and clicked off the safety. Because this was his life. A non-life. An unlife. The life of a slave. Larissa was enjoying her life because Andy didn’t have one. She, above all the others he had killed, needed to pay for her crime—her sin. He breathed in measured breaths and let his finger embrace the trigger

“Fuck you, Mommy,” Andy said in the most adorable baby talk ever.

But he couldn’t do it. She was his mommy. He couldn’t kill her. She had a life to live. Who was he to decide her mortality? And with that, his little baby brain was overwhelmed with knowledge of how Larissa agonized over the decision to abort Andy. How she got pregnant from a man she loved but never loved her. Was it rape? How her body struggled to keep Andy healthy as he struggled to grow inside of her. How she knew that she was too young and troubled and poor and irresponsible to raise him. How even if she wanted to, she couldn’t have done so because she and Andy were rejecting each other. If she hadn’t aborted him, nature would have.

Andy was done with letting outside forces determine his fate. And he’d be damned if he’d let those same forces determine Larissa’s fate. She was right to terminate the pregnancy. In those woods at Detweiller Park Andy understood everything. And with that knowledge he decided that he was going to give his mother the one thing that she never could give him: the chance to live.

The demon was not happy with this. But like his mother, Larissa, it was a choice with consequences Andy would have to face. And he was fine with that.

Story image used without permission from Christopher Haden Art.

[myaekingheart]

119. The Choushoku Club

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3 index | from the beginning | < previous | next >

"...And these children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds are immune to your consultations. They're quite aware of what they're going through..." -David Bowie 

               Rei toyed with the fraying end of her blanket as she stared up at the ceiling, watching the moonlight shadows dance overhead. She had made peace with her promotion once and for all but unfortunately that peace was short-lived. All too soon, Rei was struck with a harrowing realization: this was only the first step in a very long adaptational process. The impending doom of step two left her restless and caught in a cold sweat she couldn’t shake. Come sunrise, she would have to face the subordinates she had mistakenly failed.

               Rei wasn’t sure if she could stand the confrontation. True, she would have Yugao and Toshio steadfastly by her side but the guilt of her transgressions was all her own. No one could take on the weight of that but her.

               In retrospect, Rei was incredibly embarrassed by the way she had acted. Where was her sense of decorum? Her honor and dignity? She had behaved like a whiny child, not like a captain of the ANBU. At this rate, she didn’t even deserve the title but that was another matter entirely. Still, she hated to think of the way she had been perceived by the people she was meant to lead. If they ultimately decided to abandon her, she would accept it. After everything she had put them through, it wasn’t at all a surprising possibility. They deserved better. If only she had faith in her ability to be better.

               Toshio nudged her hand as he shifted on the bed, smacking his lips and licking her fingertips—a reminder to refocus. He looked back at her with his big brown eyes full of hope and promise and encouragement. “You’re right” Rei sighed, rubbing his silky ear between her thumb and forefinger. Now was not the time to dwell on the negatives. Rei could not afford any more setbacks. She needed to muster an unwavering confidence in her ability, even if it was just a façade. She needed to do what was required of her, what was necessary for the safety and success of these young recruits. Their opinions of her were secondary. Rei rested a gentle hand on Toshio’s back, right between his shoulder blades, as she closed her eyes and heaved a sigh. Heaven help me.

               As Rei stood in the locker room, propping her leg up on the bench to fasten her shoes, Kakashi’s mantra echoed in her brain. Those who abandon their comrades are worse than scum. A shiver ran down her spine—was she scum? She felt so. But by that criteria, so was the rest of her team. They didn’t give a single shit about one another and that was a problem. Unfortunately, it was up to Rei to remedy their apathy. Kakashi had expended so much energy into drilling the importance of teamwork into his students and now Rei needed to follow in his footsteps. She would have to take her fiancé’s words and meld them in her own hands, find a way to translate them to a new audience. Temawork above all else.

               “Are you nervous?” a voice then called from around the corner. Rei’s head snapped up to find Yugao approaching.

               Was she nervous? What kind of question was that? Of course she was nervous. Rei swallowed back her sarcasm and replied a nonchalant “I guess.”

               Yugao chewed her lower lip, toying with the gauntlet strapped to her forearm. “You know…I’m glad you decided to stay” she said. “I’m sorry about the other day, too. I was really hard on you and I shouldn’t have been.”

               Rei shook her head, trying to keep her composure. “No, really, it’s okay” she assured softly. She stuffed her civilian clothes into her locker and slammed the door shut. “I was being a selfish piece of shit. I honestly deserved everything that was said to me.” She sensed a second pair of eyes on her back and quickly scanned the locker room, paranoid, but couldn’t find the source. It was probably nothing. Her anxiety was just playing tricks on her. It was fine. Forcing a nervous laugh, Rei raked her fingers through her long bangs and added, “Besides, I’m sure nothing you said will ever be as bad as what everyone else is going to say to me after the briefing.”

               Yugao pursed her lips with a minute nod. She knew all too well what they were up against. After all, Rei had failed them. She had told them all to go home, that they weren’t good enough. Yugao doubted any of them would really be happy about the situation even if Rei was trying to fix things. Not after everything she had put them through. Not after the mess she had made. But still, Yugao tried to have faith. “Just think” she said, forcing an optimistic smile, “After today, the worst part will be over. It will all be smooth sailing from here.”

               Or this could be the beginning of a nightmare, Rei thought to herself but she shoved those thoughts out of her mind as quickly as they came. Sucking in a deep breath, Rei fastened her gauntlets and adjusted her vest. “I sure hope you’re right” she sighed.

               From the other side of the row of lockers, a young, eavesdropping recruit smiled softly. Perhaps forgiveness was worthwhile after all. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be so bad. She gently shut her locker and stalled for a moment before stepping out into the light, pondering the potential of her future with optimistic amethyst eyes.

               Following their morning briefing, Yugao corralled everyone around a table near the back of the room. Their faces were filled with panic, uncertainty, and displeasure as they eyed Rei like a poisonous insect—the kind highly recommended to be killed on sight. Nothing she said seemed to mean a damn thing.

               “And what makes you think that we’ll all come crawling back to you?” Kikkake asked sourly. “Obviously you don’t give a fuck about us. Not really. So who you are doing this for? Yourself? Your ego?”

               Sukui pursed his lips and shook his head. “Really, why would we want to be on a team with a captain who has so little faith in us?” he asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

               “Listen, I know” Rei replied, raising her hands in surrender. “I fucked up. I know I made a mistake. I never should’ve screwed you guys over. Just believe me when I say that this is for the best. I want to help you guys. You’ll never find a better captain than me. Honest.”

               Kikkake rolled his eyes, displeased. “Then that speaks more for the shit show that is the black ops than on your capability to change” he spat. “Do you really expect us to believe that you are the best the ANBU has to offer?”

               Rei clenched her jaw, trying to remain focused and composed. If she was going to keep this position, it was clear she was going to need to fight tooth and nail for their approval. “Okay, I’ll admit, I may not be the best of the best” she started, and Kikkake scoffed in satisfaction. “But I promise, I am the best captain for you. You’re in good hands. I’m not going to let you guys fail.”

               Hitsuji chewed his lower lip, wrapping his arms tight across his chest as if in attempt to make himself smaller. “B-but you’ve already failed us once” he added, quiet and anxious. “Statistically speaking, based on projected permutations, the possibility of—”

               “Okay, okay, I get it!” Rei interrupted, raising a hand. Hitsuji shrunk even deeper into himself, a part of him hating himself for ever speaking up in the first place. “I know you don’t have a ton of faith in me. I’ve said I’m sorry. I’ve promised I’ll change. That’s all that anyone can ask of me.”

               Arai pursed her lips, surveying her comrades stony faces and lack of faith. Rei seemed so small and pathetic like this, begging for forgiveness. There was a desperation in her eyes, something sad and pathetic and hungry. Kikkake rolled his eyes and the fear of irreparable failure burrowed even deeper into the pit of Rei’s chest. She searched the bald man’s face for even the tiniest ounce of sympathy but found none. Sukui leaned back against the wall, arms crossed and knee bent, appearing incredibly disinterested and perhaps even burdened by having to be there in the first place. After a long moment of silence, Arai stepped forward.

               “Well, I think we should give her a second chance” she announced confidently.

               “You what?!” Kikkake exclaimed. There was no way she could be serious.

               Arai whipped around, glaring at him as she stalked forward and grabbed him by the collar of his vest. “You heard me” she snarled. “I think we should give Captain Rei another chance.”

               Hitsuji’s eyes widened in panic, stammering, “B-but the statistics say—”

               “Oh, fuck your statistics!” Arai shouted. “How about trying some goddamn empathy for once? Captain Rei is no different than the rest of us. She’s only human. She makes mistakes, too. If she’s willing to show us a little fucking humility, don’t you think we ought to do the same for her?” The question was far too immediate for Hitsuji’s fragile demeanor. He opened his mouth, choked on his words, then dropped his eyes to the ground in defeat.

               “If you ask me” Kikkake started, swatting Arai’s grip off of his vest, “I think the black ops should show no mercy. From what I’ve seen so far, everyone’s a damn pussy. I’m surprised they even let some dumb kid lead a team in the first place!”

               “Hey!” Rei interjected. “I’m twenty-six! Does this even look like the chest of a kid to you?” Here, she motioned to her breasts—despite the flattening effect of her tactical vest, it was clear by the stretch of the fabric that she was well-endowed.

               Kikkake opened his mouth to rebuke but Sukui raised an index finger over his lips. “I wouldn’t answer that if I were you” he interjected and for once, Kikkake had to admit that he was right.

               “Still” Kikkake glared. “Our lives are on the line. How do we know she’s not going to lead us to our deaths? I bet she wouldn’t even cry. If anything, she’d be happy to get rid of us!”

               This was, surpisingly, the accusation that sent Arai over the edge. “You son of a bitch” she growled, abruptly drawing Kikkake into a headlock. “I’ll show you no mercy! Maybe you should’ve been sent home after all, huh? Maybe the black ops should show no mercy to you!”

               “Alright, settle down!” Yugao implored. She lunged forward, ready to physically break the pair up. Toshio followed close behind, growling and baring his teeth. He would not hesitant to step in and help manage the altercation. “Now is not the time for in-fighting” Yugao reminded them.

               “She’s right” Rei replied. She glared at the two combatants—a threat. “The first step to being successful in the black ops is working together as a team. Flexibility, resiliency, adaptation. Which means that we all need to find a way to get along. So far, you’re all failing miserably.”

               “Not my fault” Kikkake muttered as Arai released him. He rolled the tension out of his neck, making note of his comrade’s iron grip.

               “So how do you expect us to all start liking each other, exactly?” Sukui asked. He glanced to the others and felt his faith wavering. Kikkake was a brute, Arai was insufferable, and Hitsuji was absolutely spineless. They were doomed. It was almost even comical. Restraining light laughter then, Sukui added, “What do you expect us to do? Sit around in a circle and sing kumbaya or something?” The mere thought of it was absolutely ridiculous.

               A sly smile touched Rei’s face and suddenly Sukui was filled with instant regret. “Actually, that’s exactly what I want us all to do” she affirmed. “We are going to spend the entirety of today getting to know one another.”

               A collective groan swept across the room, shoulders slack and eyes rolling into the backs of heads. “It’s just like the first day of school all over again!” Hitsuji complained.

               “Oh, come on!” Rei enthused, leaping forward and wrapping everyone in a vigorous group hug. The smile on her face was equal parts eager and dangerous, a sign that perhaps she was getting far more fun out of this torture than she should’ve. “This will be fun! I promise. Just be grateful that you all got a cool captain.”

               If there was one thing that everyone else could agree on, it was that “cool” was the last word they would’ve used to describe this. As Rei and Yugao led everyone outside, Kikakke muttered sourly, “Yeah, if only we had gotten a sane captain.” Before he could even finish his sentence, Arai reached over and slapped him hard on the arm.

               Luckily, it was a beautifully clear spring day. The air was warm and sweet, the grass soft, and in the distance echoed the sounds of children screaming with laughter. Yugao glanced to Rei, searching her face for a hint of the pain of what she had given up. Surely the wounds were still raw. Rei, however, had blocked out the sound completely. She refused to let herself think about it.

               Once they had reached the large training field near the ANBU headquarters, Rei instructed everyone to sit in a big circle with her and Toshio at the very head. She surveyed the group as they took their seats and something small and unexpected tugged at her heart. Really, they made for a nice picture. Seeing them now, she saw not the chaos and helplessness from earlier in the week but rather youth and potential. She forced herself to remember this moment, to imbed the image into her memory. This was officially the start of something promising.

                “So forgive my idiocy” Sukui started, “But what, exactly, is this supposed to do for us again?”

               Yugao took a seat beside Rei and Toshio as she replied, “The best way to better establish teamwork is by getting to know one another. How are we supposed to work together if we’re all practically strangers?”

               “We managed in Ishoku just fine” Kikkake muttered.

               “Yeah, and that was fine for Ishoku” Rei countered, “But out here, it’s eat or be eaten. No mercy, remember? You can’t just get by on the skin of your teeth anymore. You need to actually put the effort in and part of that means familiarizing yourself with your comrades.”

               “So you just want us to go around our big dumb circle and talk about ourselves then. Right?” Kikkake groaned. Rei nodded.

               At her affirmation, Hitsuji immediately spiralled into yet another swirl of panic. He didn’t know how to do this sort of thing—talk about himself and socialize. Part of the reason he had joined the black ops in the first place was because he thought it would mean avoiding exactly that. Unfortunately, he was sorely mistaken. The importance of teamwork made perfect sense to him now, but he felt like an idiot for never considering it sooner. But if he had to do this—and he did—he needed a plan. Hitsuji awkwardly raised his hand like he was back in the academy all over again, asking, “What are we supposed to say?”

               Rei shrugged. “I mean, the usual, I guess” she replied. “Things you like, things you hate, dreams for the future, hobbies. All of that good shit.”

               Arai nodded slowly before commenting, “Why don’t you go first, boss? Set an example and show us how it’s supposed to be done.”

               Rei blinked. Were they really so stupid that they didn’t know how to introduce themselves? She eyed Arai skeptically but found nothing but ingenuity, which unfortunately only made Rei that much more suspicious. What was she trying to pull here? Rei knew letting herself be vulnerable in front of her the other day was a bad choice, but what else could she do? The only option was to level with her, even if that put her at a disadvantage now. She hated to think of what kinds of things this girl was plotting with the information she had been given. But then again, she had been so defensive and supportive the entire morning. The shift was strange to say the least.

               “Alright” Rei sucked in a deep breath, raked her fingers back through her bangs. “My name is Rei Natsuki, codename Aisuru, and I’ve been in the ANBU for about six years. Things I like and things I hate? Not important. Hobbies? Too many to count. Dreams for the future? Not really any of your business.”

               It’s no wonder she and Kakashi get along so well, Yugao thought to herself. She remembered the day she joined Kakashi’s team so many years ago, his introduction ringing much the same. In Rei’s tone, however, there was a certain sharpness. A bitter defense dripped from that last sentence, especially. Clearly Yugao was correct in assuming that the sting of her abandoned motherhood was still fresh and painful. Her heart hurt for her. Rei had truly given up so much.

               Before anyone else had the chance to comment or criticize, Yugao stepped up to the plate. “I’m Yugao Uzuki, codename Kasha, and I’ve been in the ANBU for about twelve years. I like cats and watching the moon, my favorite food is tsukimi dango, and my dream for the future is just peace and happiness.”

               Yugao’s response was so pure and thoughtful, it seemed to wash away any reservations that Rei’s response, in contrast, may have forged. Her willingness to be open and optimistic among the others put the whole group at ease and filled the new recruits with an inexplicable sense of light and security. It was almost as if Yugao was a kindergarten teacher currying favor to her new, anxious little students. Much like the moon itself, she had a way of making others feel safe and seen in the dark.

               To her right, Kikkake cracked his knuckles and opened his mouth to speak. After all, it was his turn, wasn’t it? Before he could make a sound, however, Toshio barked a happy interruption. Kikkake paused, staring dumbfounded at the dog, before meeting Rei’s unapologetic gaze.

               “The dog goes first” she grinned.

               It took a long moment for Kikkake to comprehend what she was saying. “Y-you mean..you’re telling me I’m getting stonewalled by a dog?!” he finally shouted. He glanced to the others in hopes that they would find this just as ridiculous as he did but alas, they seemed perfectly unaffected. Digging the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, Kikkake complained, “Come on! Where’s the manger?!”

               Toshio, offended by the uproar, growled in Kikkake’s direction. Rei rested a tender hand upon his back to calm him, serving a reminder that “He is a member of this team, too, you know.”

               Arai couldn’t help but smirk at all the chaos. Nothing amused her more than watching Kikkake lose his mind. And to think, this time it wasn’t even her fault. She and Sukui exchanged amused glances, finding a common interest, before Hitsuji leaned in and whispered, “What does a manger have to do with anything?” The other two shrugged, clueless.

               Overhearing the confusion, a little light sparked in the pit of Rei’s chest. It was so rare that she was able to use her literary knowledge in a context like this. Leaning forward, she answered, “The Dog in the Manger. It’s an old fable.”

               “But what does that have to do with anything?” Sukui asked back. It was clear by the look on his face that he was not a big reader. Unless, of course, it was Icha Icha, that is.

               “It’s allegorical” Rei began. “As the story goes, there’s a dog lying in a manger who refuses to let a horse take what he’s not even using. The interpretation was loose but, I mean, hey, A for effort.” The others shrugged and nodded. Who were they to judge? They didn’t even know the story to begin with.

               Kikkake was beginning to lose his cool. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this was the book club” he complained. “Can we get a move on already? We’re wasting time!” Toshio barked yet again, perhaps the only thing he and Kikkake could agree on, and Rei urged the dog to begin his own little introduction.

               Leaping to his feet, Toshio barked and spun in circles, chasing his tail and bowing playfully. He was adorable, there was no doubt about that, but it was also strange to think that he was trying to communicate something to them at all. Once he had finished and sat back down beside his master, the recruits all looked to one another in amused confusion.

               “So, Captain Rei, um…care to translate?” Sukui asked.

               Rei pursed her lips and nodded slowly, turning to Toshio who in turn gave an approving little bark. After all, what was the point of introducing himself at all if the others couldn’t understand him? It wasn’t his fault they never learned to speak dog. “Alright, so basically” Rei sighed, “he said his name is Toshio and he likes long walks, big sticks, and licking people’s feet. And that if anyone so much as dares to cross his master, he will rip your gut open and play tug-of-war with your intestines.” What was once playful confusion had now transformed into uncomfortable horror as everyone slowly turned their gaze yet again to the dog. Toshio, in contrast, seemed perfectly content—if not even amused. He barked in concurrence as he rolled onto his back, begging for belly rubs, his big spotted tongue lopping out of the side of his mouth. There was no way a dog this goofy could ever be so threatening.

               “And we’re really supposed to believe he said all that?” Kikkake asked, unconvinced. At the slightest insinuation, Toshio went rigid and bared his teeth, proving that he was perhaps serious after all.

               “I believe him” Hitsuji whispered. He sniffled as he wiped his running nose with the back of his hand. Utterly bothered, Kikkake swatted him away and tried to compose himself.

               “Alright, fine, whatever” the bald man groaned. “Now let me fucking speak.” Arai rolled her eyes, leaning back boredly as she half-listened to his spiel. “Kikkake. 25. I like my space and I dislike people who invade my space. And I really dislike people who can’t keep their damn head on straight.” Here, he glanced to the others and frowned.

               Hitsuji, feeling personally attacked, drew his knees up to his chest in an attempt to make himself as small as humanly possible. Rei’s eyes landed on him, a soft smile touching her lips. She felt sorry for him, really. He was probably the least fit for the black ops out of all of them but there had to be something that made him worthy of being here. Sympathetic, Rei motioned toward him. “Your turn.”

               “Ah, oh god, okay” Hitsuji started. He shifted, trying to make himself seem more confident than he obviously was. “M-my name is Hitsuji Akado b-but I prefer the codename Chishiki. I’m 22 years old and I like math and science. My father is an accountant and I have a twin sister named Hiretsuna. A-and I’m also…t-terrified of dogs.” Toshio’s eyes darted to the poor boy and Hitsuji clutched his hands to his chest, eyes wide and heart racing. After a moment, he gasped and sneezed into the crook of his elbow, adding groggily, “I’m also highly allergic.”

               Rei frowned as she scratched under Toshio’s chin. “Well, I can’t really do anything about the allergies” she replied, “But I guarantee Toshio would never hurt anyone in his pack. You’re in good hands.” In reply, Toshio gave a quick bark before rubbing his back enthusiastically against the ground. A cloud of hair flew up around him as he went.

               Hitsuji wasn’t sure how comforting he found this, but he at least appreciated the effort. Before they continued onto the next introduction, however, Yugao paused and asked, “Wait a second, what did you say your sister’s name was again?”

               Nodding, Hitsuji replied, “Hiretsuna. She, uh…she works at the hospital.”

               A look of understanding crossed Rei’s face as a wide grin touched her lips. “I thought her name sounded familiar!” she exclaimed. “Brown hair, blue eyes, works reception, right?”

               Hitsuji nodded. “That would be her.”

               Rei chuckled softly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Damn, I never would’ve guessed” she said. “I mean, you’re twins, yeah, but you’re both so…different.” Hiretsuna was truly a sweet girl—after all, she was always so kind to Sekkachi on her frequent doctor’s visits—but her head was undoubtedly full of hot air.

               Chuckling anxiously, Hitsuji replied, “She got the beauty, and I got the brains.”

               Yugao shifted in her spot to get more comfortable as she replied, “Well, I’m sure your brains will come in handy on our team.” Hitsuji’s cheeks immediately burned red as he dropped his gaze and tried to remain composed. It was clear to Yugao that he was definitely going to be the type that benefits greatly from positive reinforcement. He needed the reassurance that he was not only welcome here but that he belonged here. That he was capable and a valuable asset to the team. Hitsuji’s gratefulness was almost palpable.

               Yugao then slowly turned her gaze to Sukui, who had since laid down in the grass and was staring up at the wispy clouds overhead. It was as if he was in a daze, lost in his own daydreams. Rei waited only a moment longer before clearing her throat. “Yo, pretty boy. It’s your turn” she jested.

               Blinking, Sukui’s stupor faded and he immediately bolted upright. His eyes seemed brighter than ever before. “Finally!” he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair before winking and shooting his index finger in Rei’s direction. “I am Sukui Yukio, codename Kishi! 22 years old, Leo, blood type AB. I like beautiful women and making others happy, and I dislike brutes and pushovers—” here, he glared to Kikkake and Hitsuji respectively. “My hobbies are serenading prospective dates and reading Icha Icha novels! Which, by the way, have I ever mentioned that people tell me I am the spitting image of—”

               “Keihaku Goman. Yes, we are aware” Rei interrupted. The memory of her bizarre little one-off date with the man sent shivers down her spine. If she was lucky, she would never have to hear the name Keihaku Goman ever again.

               Hitsuji withdrew even further into himself, muttering, “I-I’m not a pushover”—more to himself than anything else—before he was interrupted by yet another sneeze.

               Kikkake, rolling his eyes, replied, “Yes you are.”

               “As if you’re not some bald-headed brute” Arai joked, reaching around to poke Kikkake teasingly in the shoulder. Kikkake gritted his teeth, prepared to counterattack, but it was Arai’s turn to speak now and she wasn’t going to let anyone infringe on her moment. She locked eyes with Rei from across the circle and in those amethyst eyes, there was something different—something almost reassuring and uplifting. Before Rei could analyze it further, however, Kikkake attempted to rebuke but Arai slapped her hand over his mouth with a sly, satisfied grin. The strange softness in her gaze had vanished as quickly as it came. “The name’s Arai Kawakubo, but you can call me Dokyou. I’m 23 and I like boxing and sewing, even if I suck balls at it. I have an older sister and my grandma owns a clothing shop in the village. I dislike assholes and I especially dislike people who don’t know when to shut the fuck up.” Here, she grinned at Kikkake, sickeningly sweet. Another sharp jab at his unpleasant personality. Clenching his fists was all he could do to keep from pummeling her into the ground. She removed her hand from his mouth once she was finished, sitting up straight and proud.

               Kikkake wiped his mouth on the back of his hand in an attempt to rid himself of her as he groaned, “Why are you the way that you are?” Arai tilted her head as she looked at him, urging him to elaborate. “What is it? Do you get off on throwing people under the bus?”

               “You know” Sukui said with a flourish of his hand, “Brutal honesty is actually quite attractive in a woman!” Here, he arched a brow and smirked to further enforce his point.

               Arai shot him a sharp glare, muttering under her breath, “Shut up, sweetie, this isn’t your fight” before locking eyes with Kikkake. “And why do you always have to get so offended by every little thing? Hmm?” she countered. “Why is every comment somehow a personal attack on you? Are you really that oversensitive, Mr. Big Shot?”

               “First it’s my head, now it’s my self esteem” Kikkake muttered through clenched teeth. “Are there no boundaries to what you will pick apart?”

               The conflict had meanwhile clearly triggered yet another wave of panic in poor Hitsuji. “P-please…stop fighting” he whimpered, recoiling. The probability of people breaking out weapons was surely at least 64% and if kunai were going to fly, he did not want to be in the proposed line of fire.

               Tensions were mounting and Rei knew that if she did not do something soon, things were bound to spiral out of control. She glanced to Yugao in concern for a moment and was met with a single nod of approval. They both knew what must be done. If these kids were ever going to behave themselves, they needed discipline. The only one worthy of administering it was Rei.

               Sucking in a deep breath, Rei rose to her feet and stepped into the center of the circle. Toshio finally rolled upright, watching with focused intent. This was about to get good. Bracing himself for the chaos, Hitsuji swallowed hard as he studied her every move. With fists clenched, Rei closed her eyes and focused all of her chakra. She envisioned kneading it like dough, forming it into a condensed ball with mass and weight. She felt the lump rising higher into the back of her throat. Then, snapping her eyes open, she launched a massive bullet of chakra-infused water straight into the fray. The bubble exploded on impact, soaking Arai, Kikkake, and Sukui in the process. They all fell silent as Rei grinned down at them in condescension.

               “Ugh, absolutely disgusting!” Sukui whined, shaking the water from his clothes. “Why did I have to get hit? I had nothing to do with this!”

               Rei shrugged, joking, “If you can’t handle the water, stay out of the pool.”

               Arai shook her choppy hair dry like a dog, smoothing her short bangs back with a comical grin. “So you’re a water style user then, huh?” she asked, pleased with this new discovery.

               “Primarily, but being a part of the ANBU also means you need to hone in on other chakra natures, too” Rei rose an informative finger in the air as she turned on her heel. “And it’s also important to know the chakra natures and other strengths of everyone on your team so that we can coordinate our attacks perfectly. There is no room for error.”

               Scooting nearer, Hitsuji made a quiet little hand sign before a jolt of wind whipped against Arai, Kikkake, and Sukui, drying them instantly. Taken aback, Arai whipped around to face him but where he expected to find malice, he was instead met with an impressed smile. Hitsuji blushed and dropped his eyes, murmuring, “Sometimes it’s helpful.”

               “I’ll say” Arai smirked, slapping him proudly on the back. Leaning across the circle, she then looked to Kikkake and mused, “Let me guess: you’re an earth style user, aren’t you?”

               Unfortunately, Kikakke could not hide his initial surprise. His wide eyes and gaping mouth, much like a dead fish, were enough to sate Arai’s destructive cravings for the rest of the day. After the shock had worn off, he furrowed his brows and crossed his arms like a whiny child. “Yeah, and what of it?” he asked.

               Shrugging, Arai leaned back on her elbows and replied, “It’s easy to tell. You’re stubborn as a rock but sensitive as soil. One thing goes wrong and you’re killing every plant in the area.”

               That was actually a very clever way to put things—accurate but easy to understand. Rei had to admit, she was impressed. Skills like that were far more advanced than that of any regular rookie. “Where’d you learn to interpret chakra natures like that?” she asked, leaning forward in intrigue.

               The only one Rei had ever known to have any semblance of knowledge on the subject was Grandma Teiko. Tucked away in one of her old books was a chart, the paper soft and print fading from years of use. On it was both the wheel of basic chakra natures as well as the way in which each chakra nature can combine to create new elemental subsidiaries. At the very bottom was a detailed list of telltale traits for each user—indeliable information for espionage, no doubt. In the middle of the night, when her life had begun falling apart, Rei would carefully tug that page out of Grandma Teiko’s book and read the description for lightning style users over and over again until the words became foreign and numb. To this day, she still had the excerpt memorized: Sharp and focused, hard to read. Concentrated, cold, unyielding, unpredictable. She thought of Kakashi and a shiver raced down her spine. She had refused to believe the accuracy of such a statement. There was no way that any of that was true of Kakashi, or at least not the Kakashi that she knew. Over time, she would come to discover the unfortunate ounce of truth within that analysis but where lightning was seemingly apathetic and condensed—a manifestation of concentrated, aimless rage—it was also unexpectedly nourishing and protective. It lit fires from long distances, sudden and prophetic, and could strike down enemies in one fatal blow. A shock of anger, yes, but also orgasmic, unhindered joy.

               Arai sucked her teeth, digging her toe into the dirt. “My grandma used to have this book that talked about chakra nature and the personality” she explained and in the back of Rei’s mind was a ring of familiarity. “I don’t know where she got it form or where it went, but I used to look at it a lot when I was a little kid. I liked trying to figure out which of my friends had what chakra natures. The psychoanalysis of it was kind of fun.”

               A jolt of something struck Rei in the chest, overwhelming and bizarre. Like a punch to the soul, separating her from her body. The tattoo on her forearm stung. In the back of her mind, a voice told her kindred spirit. None of it made any sense, though. It was stupid. She gripped at a patch of Toshio’s thick fur to anchor her, sucking in a sharp breath. Before she could spiral further, Sukui excitedly interjected and recentered the focus.

               “Ooh, try me!” he shouted, raising a hand. “What chakra nature do you think I have?”

               Cocking a brow, Arai leaned back as she stared at him. “Water” she said bluntly. “You’re bubbly, charismatic, and fluid. You have a nice voice and can be a little, um…much.”

               Sukui’s eyes widened, looking to the others in delight. “Oh, she’s good!” he exclaimed. He then turn his attention to Yugao, exclaiming, “Try her next!”

               Arai furrowed her brows in concentration. “She’s harder to pinpoint” she muttered. “I don’t really see her as much of an elemental user to begin with, but more of a yin/yang release type. Based on her clear connection to the moon, however, and her sensory abilities, I’d say she’s naturally a water type but hones more of her skills into other forms of ninjutsu and swordplay.”

               A small, satisfied grin touched Yugao’s lips. “You’re very perceptive” she replied. Arai’s analysis was surprisingly approximate. Her identification abilities would certainly come in handy in the future. “So what about you?” she then asked, motioning toward the blonde across the circle. “We know everyone else’s chakra natures now but yours.”

               Just as Arai went to open her mouth, Rei spoke for her. “Lightning” she said bluntly. She still clung to that tuft of Toshio’s hair. Her mossy eyes remained locked on the ground, her jaw tense. “My guess is lightning.”

               Yugao blinked, turning to her captain. “How do you know?”

               “Arai is sharp, quick, tactile. Every blow is concentrated and aimless” Rei explained. She knew lightning style all too well—as she should. She saw the same fire, the same cold and unyielding determination, in Arai’s eyes as she had in Kakashi when she first joined the ANBU. Her rage was chaotic, specific, strong.

               Dumbfounded, Yugao turned to Arai to find that she was just as taken aback as the rest of them were. “Well?” Yugao asked slowly, quietly. “Was she right?”

               Arai fought an incredulous little laugh as she leaned her forearms onto her folded knees and nodded slowly. “Yeah” she said. “Yeah, she was.”

               A long stretch of silence encumbered the group then, uneasy and strange. There was a sense of anxiety in Rei’s eyes now and Yugao knew this mustn’t be a good sign. Don’t give out on me, she begged in the back of her mind. Not this time. Not now. We made a commitment, remember? Do not give up.

               Rei tried to regain her composure but her mind kept sticking on one nagging point of contention: where did Arai’s grandmother get that book? Was it something that all the elders of Konoha had? An ancient relic from a bygone educational era? Perhaps. Or perhaps Grandma Teiko simply acquired hers from a former shinobi—Kaminoki did acquire a fair amount of used books for resale each year. They were always tossed aside on a rickety corner shelf and sold for a hefty discounted price. Rei’s father never could find the strength to ask full-price for books with broken spines and dogeared pages, books with life and history. Either way, it was not important. So what if they had the exact same book with the exact same diagram in it? None of it mattered. Rei forced the thoughts squarely out of her mind. This was exactly the kind of distraction she did not want to let ruin her today.

               “Well” Yugao smiled to the group. “Now that we all know each other’s chakra natures, we can better strengthen our teamwork and make sure our attacks are especially strong.”

               “Wait a second, Lieutenant Yugao” Sukui interrupted. “Now, I’m not fond of correcting a lady” he continued, and Arai rolled her eyes and fake-gagged, “but I’m afraid you’re not entirely correct!”

               “Oh?” Yugao asked, arching a brow. Rei’s gaze snapped up from the ground, searching Sukui’s face for panic or pain. The prospect of something being wrong only further amped up her anxiety.

               Nodding, Sukui replied, “We don’t know everyone’s chakra nature yet!”

               Rei’s eyes widened as she surveyed the circle, trying to figure out who they had missed. She recited each verdict in her head as she went: water for Yugao, earth for Kikkake, Hitsuji is wind, Sukui water, and lighting for Arai. “Who did we leave out?” she asked.

               A wide, childish grin touched Sukui’s face as he tried to restrain his laughter. “The dog!” he exclaimed, falling back and letting himself succumb to the pleasure of his own joke.

               Toshio leapt to his feet and barked happily, spinning in circles. The idea was so ridiculous, Rei couldn’t help but crack a smile herself. All of the anxiety that had built up inside of her began to vanish.

               Tapping her chin, Arai smirked and mused, “I’d say he’s a water-style user. I mean, have you seen the slobber on that tongue? Disgusting!” She said this with no malevolence toward the dog, however. Rather, she fought an amused giggle as Toshio jumped toward her and swiped his spotted tongue right across her face, drenching her in spit. She cringed, though clearly stil in good spirits, and wiped the residue away with the back of her hand as she affirmed, “Yep, absolutely disgusting.”

               Patting her thigh, Rei beckoned her loyal mutt back to her side and chuckled, “Why do you think him and I work so well together?”

               “You have a good point” Yugao jested. She, too, reached over to scratch Toshio affectionately behind the ear. It was nice to see that he was finally taking to the group.

               A small, shy smile touched Hitsuji’s lips as he watched the interaction unfold. “I guess he isn’t so bad” he mused quietly. Though big and clunky, perhaps Rei was right about Toshio: perhaps he truly wouldn’t hurt anyone within his pack—or in this case, their black ops team. Hitsuji wanted to believe that the dog’s affectionate side was reinforcement that they were all in good hands; he wanted to believe that there was nothing to worry about. It would still take him some time to warm up to Toshio completely, but the thought that he was not very bad at all was at least a step in the right direction.

               In response, Toshio grinned and barked once more, though kept his distance as if he could sense Hitsuji’s anxiety. And really, he could. He knew the poor boy was terrified and despite Toshio being slightly, instinctively pleased with that, he also knew that he needed to try to make this boy comfortable among him. Rei’s success depended on it and he was not about to hinder the progression of her career. She deserved nothing but good things and if he could help move that along then by god, he was going to.

               By sundown, Rei’s anxiety had drastically depleted. Their little kumbaya circle had done some good, it seemed, after all. What was once a group of disinterested misfits had soon transformed into a team of hope and growing camaraderie. There was still more work to be done but a solid foundation had been laid. They all knew each other a little better now, saw each other a little more clearly and had a greater appreciation and understanding for those they would have to call friends.

               And really, the breakthrough was necessary. Rei had quickly discovered that she was not the only one at fault. She was not the only one seeing this team how she wanted to see them, in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. She never cared to know them and they never cared to know one another. If sitting in a circle under the bright spring sun was what it took to break down each of their walls, then so be it. The results were worth all of the drudgery.

               Upon returning home, Rei haphazardly peeled a little mikan from their humble fruit bowl—tossing a wedge to Toshio as a consolation prize—before humming along to the clank of dirty dishes in the sink. The setting sunlight filled the room with a warm, hazy glow, catching on the surface of the soap suds in a translucent rainbow. For the first time in a long time, everything was light and peace. Maybe this was where she was meant to be, after all.

               By the time Rei was elbows-deep in soap and halfway through the dishes, Toshio leapt to his feet and began barking and leaping wildly. The key turned in the lock and the front door creaked open. Kakashi. A jolt of excitement struck Rei at the sight of him and she immediately rushed to pull him into a strong embrace. She couldn’t care less if she soaked his vest.

               “Oh?” he chuckled, setting his supplies on the table as he wrapped an arm around her waist. “What’s all of this about? Did you have a bad day?”

               “No” Rei shook her head. “I just missed you.” The smile tugging at her lips was oddly suspicious but if she was happy, then who was Kakashi to judge? If anything, her joy was a relief after the overwhelming anxiety of the past few weeks.

               “So how did things go today?” he asked, brushing the bangs back out of her face. “How were the new recruits?”

               “Actually…” Rei started, “It wasn’t that bad.” The more she thought about it, the more Rei realized that perhaps she even enjoyed their chaotic company. They made her feel young again. They reminded her of a simpler time, back before the black ops had made her distant and serious. A time in which she was not plagued by fear, uncertainty, and the numbing pain of difficult choices. Kakashi, delighted to hear that things were going well, cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead tenderly. A small smile touched Rei’s lips as she added softly, “You know, I think they’re really starting to grow on me.”

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Gabe Kapler Thinks Vince Velasquez Is A Starting Pitcher, But Should He?

The Phillies, you could say, uh, “presented beautifully” throughout the weekend during a thorough and relentless four-game pounding by the Braves. It was a gutless and pitiful submission, but it also mercifully expedited the inevitable, so taking the energy and effort to question Gabe Kapler’s lineups or bullpen maneuvers with faux outrage feels like a futile exercise because, let’s be honest, does anybody even give the slightest of fucks about the 2018 Phillies at this point? I don’t. But I am interested in the 2019 Phillies, and I’m interested in that team looking nothing like the one that has spiraled out of control this month, so that’s why I found Kapler’s enthusiastic vote of confidence in Vince Velasquez after his disappointing outing in Atlanta last week so interesting.

Velasquez has had his moments this season, but has struggled lately, posting a 7.67 ERA in eight starts since August 8. The rotation was a strength for much of this season, but has faltered miserably down the stretch, and the correlation between its struggles and the Phillies’ late-season collapse is obvious. While their roster has several flaws, if the Phillies truly desire a different outcome in 2019, they will need to bolster the rotation. Velasquez’s disastrous finish, along with his history of inconsistency would make him, in my opinion, the most likely candidate to go. But Kapler, who to what should be the surprise of nobody, apparently sees things differently. Here’s what he had to say about Velasquez in a recent Jim Salisbury story:

FIP is more predictive of what will happen next year than ERA is, and that’s why we look at FIP more than ERA. ERA tells the story of what happened including defense. FIP tells us what might happen going forward.

For those that don’t know, FIP removes defensive variables and focuses on pitcher-controlled outcomes such as strikeouts, walks, hit batters, and home runs. Velasquez’s 3.66 FIP is markedly better than his 4.59 ERA, which makes sense given the Phillies’ historically bad defense. It’s also better than the 5.52 mark he posted a season ago. So what does that mean? More Gabe:

Most of the people in that range are really good at their jobs. This is something that I have to explain to Vince—you’re OK. If a team doesn’t value a guy with a low FIP and a high ERA, they’re not paying attention. Those guys get snatched up and asked for in trades. They’re in high demand because the expectation is that with an improved defense and a little bit of luck, you get a much better pitcher and maybe a superstar pitcher.

I don’t know with certainty what Velasquez is, but I know what he’s not. He’s not a superstar. Still, maybe Kapler is onto something. Maybe Velasquez has been better than what the eyes see and is worth more patience. I wanted to fairly explore this idea, and order to do so it required that I step away from the common assessment of Velasquez, the one that says he’s got the arm but lacks the consistency needed to stick as a starter. Admittedly, I’ve long agreed with that assessment, but I tried to go into this exercise objectively, and I want to share what I found.

The Good

Velasquez’s 3.66 FIP is the 12th best among NL pitchers with at least 140 IP this season. That alone is probably enough to entice another organization, if not the Phillies, to allow Velasquez further opportunity to stick in a rotation. The other thing that jumps off the page is that he’s made significant improvements in several key areas this season:

More strikeouts, less walks, less homers, and a better WHIP. His 11.4 swinging strike percentage is better than that of guys like Clayton Kershaw, Zack Wheeler, and Mike Foltynewicz. All good things. Moreover, Velasquez quelled concerns about his durability this season. After throwing only 72 innings over 15 starts a season ago, he has thrown 143 innings in 29 starts in 2018, nearly doubling both totals.

As a bonus, he is also, ahem, gritty:

Righty Vince Velasquez got hit with a line drive, so he used his left arm to get the out.

He was later put on the 10-day DL with a forearm contusion. pic.twitter.com/v4ZluXuM4H

— ESPN (@espn) July 1, 2018

The Bad

Based on the findings above, it’s hard to imagine a case for bumping Velasquez out of the rotation, but there’s a different side to this equation. What rate statistics and FIP don’t evaluate is a pitcher’s ability to effectively navigate deep into games, something he’s struggled with. Velasquez has failed to complete at least six innings in 17 of his 29 starts this season, while averaging just less than 5 IP per start. While Kapler’s points about bad defense and bad luck negatively impacting Velasquez are technically true, this is what truly separates Velasquez from other more highly-regarded starters who profile similarly.

Why can’t he get deep? (TWSS.) I spotted a few issues:

His over-reliance on the fastball makes him too often a one-dimensional pitcher. Only four starters in the NL have thrown a higher percentage of fastballs than Velasquez’s 64.2% in 2018. His tendency to go fastball heavy makes sense, given opponents have hit only .222 against it this season. His trust in his fastball isn’t a problem in and of itself, but…

Conventional wisdom is that a starter needs three quality pitches. Velasquez has a fastball and a functional slider which he throws about 15% of the time. But then things get dicey. His curveball, which at times appears devastating, is also inconsistent. Perhaps that explains why opposing hitters raked to a .921 OPS against it last season and an .884 OPS this season. Still, here’s what his curveball can be:

Vince Velasquez's curveball is looking excellent today pic.twitter.com/CHyLysDZyg

— Ben Palmer (@benjpalmer) May 10, 2018

The last issue that jumps off the page is that his changeup is ineffective or otherwise a non-factor. He’s only throws it 5% of the time and with good reason: Opponents posted an outrageous 1.427 OPS against the pitch in 2017 and have a healthy .961 OPS against it this season. In other words, hitters have put up Hall of Fame worthy numbers against it. While his tendency to leave the pitch up in the zone is problematic, equally concerning is the lack of variance in velocity between his average fastball (94.2 mph) and changeup (88.4 mph), which also prohibits its effectiveness.

So what does this all mean? I think Velasquez deserves another opportunity to prove himself as a starter and not simply because “he’s talented.” The fastball life is enticing, sure, but the drastic improvement he has demonstrated in several important areas this season is alone enough to validate the idea that this guy could eventually put it together. For that reason, it makes sense to see if he can develop that consistent curveball and/or functional changeup. I’m just not absolutely certain that Velasquez makes sense for the Phillies heading into 2019 if they view themselves as a contender. Can they afford to run it back with this same rotation? If not, who’s getting bumped? Will another team be willing to part with a significant bullpen piece or position player that fundamentally augments what is a currently dysfunctional lineup and defense? We will see, but I will say this: I know most people think everything that comes out of Kapler’s mouth is patronizing bullshit, but I think he meant what he said about Velasquez, and he may not be wrong.

The post Gabe Kapler Thinks Vince Velasquez Is A Starting Pitcher, But Should He? appeared first on Crossing Broad.

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[blockheadbrands]

California’s Limit on Big Growers Just Vanished. Here’s Why

Chris Roberts of Leafly Reports:

In an unexpected move that has small cannabis farmers and some state lawmakers up in arms, California will license cannabis farms of unlimited size, state regulators announced last month.

The abrupt shift took many in the industry by surprise, and it comes on the heels of costly, intensive lobbying on behalf of some of the state’s most powerful cannabis businesses.

It also undermines part of the pitch used to sell voters on marijuana legalization.

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Under Proposition 64, approved by 57% of state voters last year, small and medium growers—who provide much of the economic lifeblood in rural areas like the state’s Emerald Triangle—were promised they would not face competition from giant marijuana “megafarms” for five years. The idea was this: Beginning Jan. 1, 2018, growers could apply for “Type 3” licenses, which are capped at one acre. Not until 2023 could growers apply for “Type 5” licenses, which allow for grows of unlimited size.

This nod to small growers was added to Prop. 64 in order to win support from existing cultivators and in regions where the economy is reliant on cannabis. Prop. 19, a failed 2010 effort  to legalize in California, fared poorly among those groups. The provision was also consistent with rules passed by California lawmakers in 2016 to regulate the state’s medical marijuana industry, which also included an acreage cap.

Regulators appeared to be sticking to this plan as recently as Nov. 14, when the California Department of Food and Agriculture’s draft environmental impact report around cultivation included a one-acre cap on farms.

Two days later, however, emergency regulations released by the department included no such cap.

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Megafarms won’t be allowed everywhere in the state. Many counties have banned cultivation completely, while others limit outdoor grows by size. Cannabis-friendly Mendocino County, for example, limits outdoor grows to no more than 10,000 square feet. Still, the prospect of competition from massive operations anywhere in California has agitated growers and even rankled some lawmakers.

“This type of policymaking leads one to suspect (involvement) from a high-price-tag influencer.”

Hezekiah Allen, California Growers Association

“It was my understanding during the campaign that the larger cultivation would not be happening at the outset. I know that others had that understanding,” state Sen. Scott Wiener (D-San Francisco) told Leafly News.

“I don’t agree with the results. I’m concerned that the small operators may be driven out,” he added. “It’s unclear to me why this happened.”

Tawnie Logan, who chairs the Sonoma County Growers Alliance, which advocates for small and medium-size growers, said the change means the rules puts forth by the state Department of Food and Agriculture are in “in direct violation” of what was reflected in the department’s own environmental impact report.

“This is somewhat unprecedented,” she said.

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At least part of the explanation for the change appears to be that the California Department of Food and Agriculture was targeted during an expensive and lengthy lobbying campaign on behalf of large-scale marijuana cultivators.

One such operator, FLRish, spent more than $300,000 to lobby lawmakers and public officials since the beginning of 2016, according to public disclosure forms. The company is already cultivating as many as four acres of cannabis in converted greenhouses in the Salinas Valley.

FLRish’s $300,000 spend is sizeable even in the high-stakes game of influencing public policy in California. For context, FLRish spent more on lobbying during the past two years than corporations such as Airbnb or Facebook.

Steve Lyle, a spokesman for the agriculture department, said the cap was “left out” after the department received “input from stakeholders.”

The firm leaning on policymakers on FLRish’s behalf is California Strategies, one of Sacramento’s most prominent political consulting firms. Among the public agencies the firm contacted on FLRish’s behalf was the California Department of Food and Agriculture, according to public records. (There’s some irony here. Operatives with California Strategies served as the main political consultants for Prop. 64, and spent much of the 2016 campaign defending legalization as a boon for the same small farmers now crying foul.)

Jason Kinney, a partner at California Strategies, declined to comment. “We don’t discuss client work product,” he said via e-mail. [Editor’s note: Privateer Holdings, the parent company of Leafly, is a client of California Strategies.]

In comments to the Santa Rosa Press Democrat, Steve Lyle, a spokesman for the agriculture department, said the cap was “left out” after the department received “input from stakeholders.” He did not respond to inquiries from Leafly News about the identity of those stakeholders or the nature of their input.

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Observers of the process, however, say the interested parties are obvious.

“There are clear winners here,” said Hezekiah Allen, executive director of the California Growers Association, which strongly supports a size cap. “This type of policymaking leads one to suspect [involvement] from a high-price-tag influencer.” His association is circulating a petition to reinstate the one-acre cap, he said, and is also weighing other options.

Sonoma County-based attorney Omar Figueroa told Leafly that some small and medium-size growers are weighing the possibility of a lawsuit.

“The EIR and the regulations do not match. There’s a big disconnect—the regulations need to be modified to get rid of that disconnect,” he said. On top of that, he added, the change will have real consequences for existing businesses. “When megagrows are allowed, it’s going to squeeze the mom and pops out of business and drive them into the black market.”

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According to public records, FLRish’s acting CEO is Steve DeAngelo. DeAngelo, the cofounder and CEO of Harborside, California’s largest marijuana dispensary, is a prominent public ambassador for the marijuana industry, with frequent appearances in mainstream media. In 2011, for example, Harborside was the subject of a short-lived Discovery Channel series, Weed Wars.

In an interview with Leafly News, DeAngelo suggested that representatives may have reached out to the Food and Agriculture Department. “We talk to every [regulatory agency],” he said. And while none of his organizations took a public position on the cultivation cap, he said he supports the emergency rules as currently written. “Time is already very short to prepare for the [Jan. 1] transition to adult use,” he said.

But did FLRish advocate against a size cap on state-licensed cannabis cultivation? DeAngelo has yet to respond to a Nov. 24 message asking that very question.

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To be sure, there are other large operators in the Salinas Valley who stand to benefit. Grupo Flor, headed by attorney Gavin Kogan, claims to have “over 2.6 million square feet dedicated to cannabis” activities, including cultivation and extraction. Last summer, Grupo Flor sponsored the annual Forbes AgTech Summit, a gathering of the biggest names in corporate agriculture, such as Monsanto and DuPont. Leafly News found no recorded lobbyist contacts on behalf of Grupo Flor on file with the California Secretary of State.

In California’s cannabis country, the prospect of megafarms has raised alarm among longtime growers already struggling with low crop prices. Small farmers in the Emerald Triangle “are panicked,” said Michael Steinmetz, CEO of FlowKana, a Mendocino County-based craft cannabis brand that sources its product from local farmers who cultivate small crops.

“We’re looking at a massive economic crisis for the state of California.”

Tawnie Logan, Sonoma County Growers Alliance

“We’re definitely strong supporters of the cap,” Steinmetz said, “but to be honest, I don’t think the policy would have ever stopped people from doing [large grows]. They’ve always had a loophole.”

While moneyed interests may have lobbied regulators to remove the licensing limit, it’s not clear how much damage it would have actually do to FLRish or other large growers. Some contend that megagrows were already legal—even taking into account the one-acre cap.

A four-acre plot could be cultivated legally by “stacking” four one-acre licenses together, some industry observers argued. State law allows operators to obtain multiple licenses so long as none are for laboratory testing. In this way, a deep-pocketed company could in theory obtain an infinite number of licenses meant for small-scale production, then turn around and cultivate hundreds of acres.

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Even Prop. 64 backers—such as Kinney at California Strategies, who was the campaign’s chief spokesperson—said on the campaign trail that the measure would allow such stacking, despite the apparent contradiction with the campaign’s stated goal of protecting small farmers.

Legalization’s most prominent political backer, Lt. Gov. Gavin Newsom, spent years railing against the notion of “Big Pot.” Now a favorite in the run for governor, Newsom said in a 2015 report that the state should “prevent the growth of a large, corporate marijuana industry dominated by a small number of players, as we see with Big Tobacco or the alcohol industry.”

Since then, however, Newsom has raked in hundreds of thousands of dollars in campaign contributions from the cannabis industry through fundraisers organized by a small number of players, the Los Angeles Times has reported, including DeAngelo’s FLRish as well as Indus Holding Company, where Grupo Flor’s Gavin Kogan is an executive director. (Indus appears to have spent no money on lobbying in California during the past year, per public records.)

Newsom “appears fine for now with allowing for big growers,” the San Francisco Chroniclereported last month after reaching out to the lieutenant governor during a visit to Mexico City to talk about cannabis.

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A statement Newsom sent to the Chronicle said that “Legalization is a process unfolding over many years,” and regulations will need “constant re-evaluation.” But “I’m not ideological about this,” he added. “I’m watching closely to ensure that the rules are being applied with tough anti-monopoly standards that create favorable market conditions for small legal businesses.”

Not every advocate for small cannabis growers believes megafarms are a dealbreaker.

Kristin Nevedal, the Humboldt County-based chairperson of the International Cannabis and Hemp Farmers Association—which also uses California Strategies as a lobbyist, according to records—believes a cap would be a huge disadvantage for small farmers who rely on the sun as their source of power.

With a one-acre cap, outdoor farmers harvesting once a year would be out-produced by indoor farmers by “eight times,” she said. Far from protecting small farmers, a cap “disadvantages the seasonal cultivator more than anyone.”

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With state-licensed cannabis cultivation less than a month away, it’s unclear how many of California’s estimated 50,000 cannabis cultivators have the interest or ability—financial or otherwise—to join the legal marketplace. But the prospect of going toe-to-toe with well-capitalized behemoths, the worry goes, might squelch whatever interest there is—and wreak financial havoc on areas that depend on cultivation.

Some in the industry say opening the door to megafarms too quickly threatens to hobble California’s legal cannabis market before it’s on its feet—and may make economic waves even outside the cannabis industry.

“The fastest way to destroy the success of the program would be give authorization for single corporations to have hundreds of acres in production in year one,” said Logan, of the Sonoma County Growers Alliance.

“If you have tens of thousands of existing operators that want to come into compliance but are pushed out of the market by a few single corporations,” she said, “then we’re looking at a massive economic crisis for the state of California.”

TO READ MORE OF THIS ARTICLE ON LEAFLY, CLICK HERE.

https://www.leafly.com/news/politics/californias-limit-on-big-growers-just-vanished-heres-why