#yes I’m sitting at con writing to target you all

[nathanbatemanfucker]

summary: you’re a cowboy like me.

pairing: cowgirl!reader x cowboy!din djarin

contents: 18+ content, loneliness, alcohol mention, smoking mention, typical Wild West violence & values (light torture, murder, stealing), pining if you squint

word count: 2.6k

an: the urge to write real recognizes real as the summary was strong. just a heads up that these two are NOT GOOD PEOPLE. they aren’t honorable or heroic and some of this will be pretty fucked up. with that being said, here is the first chapter! honestly i’m so excited to share this with y’all, let me know what ya think!

series masterlist | writing masterlist

Being a nomad of sorts has its perks, or at least that’s how you’ve always framed it. You’re slippery as a snake, sliding in and out of rich folks' lives just when they start to thinking you’ll be sticking around. It gets you a hoard of benefits; weapons and supplies for the never-ending road, bonds to sell, and stacks of money to hold you over as you sneak into the quiet of the night. You do your best to leave on decent terms— especially if you can imagine returning to some of these places— but some just can’t understand the way you live. You’ve learned to live with their disappointment.

Your life has been days and days of being misunderstood, what’s another?

It’s not the easiest way to live by any means and at times when the night is too cold or the afternoons too hot you wish that you could settle down like others do. But you are wiser than that. If you were to settle down somewhere, that loneliness that only rears its head every blue moon would become a daily occurrence. Yes, this life can be lonely, but at least there is some semblance of connection you find in learning someone so well that you wiggle into their heart. Charm takes intimacy, and you’re only equipped to handle that on a one-way street. The bridge to your heart crumbled and collapsed with the loss of your family, what feels like eons ago. From that moment on, this wandering shell of a person is who you became.

You’re settled just on the outskirts of a quiet, quaint town named Strawberry. There’s a little rundown shack near a stretch of wood that’s perfect for your party of one. Your first stop after securing the shack and leaving a few things behind is getting a hot meal at the saloon. There’s only so much foraged produce and rice cakes a person can live on before the belly craves more.

It’ll also give you a chance to scope things out— more specifically the people that seem to be in need of lightening their pockets from the tricks up your sleeve. This saloon is tinier than the ones you have been to before, but the mouthwatering scent of garlic and various herbs is mixed with cigarette smoke and the rowdy sound of nightly celebrations and poker chips. There’s a variety of folks here, women and men of all kinds, helpful in making sure you don’t stick out as you survey the place.

From what you’ve seen so far of the town it’s aptly named, the folks are sweet and welcoming. The guilt that used to sit in your heart about conning people like this has faded. You’re surviving, do what you can and must. It’s nothing personal, just the way life goes. But you do go out of your way to go for assholes, and the rich of the rich. Sometimes you even give back. There’s some semblance of honor you live by, even if it’s not much.

It's just a week later that things change— life changes, your path unknowingly transforming in just a matter of seconds. Because the moment you meet him, you know he’s the one.

Not like in those cheesy, bullshit stories girls at every saloon fawn over. Not like the love your mother and father used to spew, the love that was so genuine but as you grew felt more and more unattainable. But like you’ve always wanted— like you’ve convinced yourself you can handle.

He can be your partner, he can make this life a little bit easier.

A partner would make this game easier for you. As a woman in the West, the target on your back was bigger than the noon sun. No level of mastery can make being a woman less dangerous. But, with a man on your side? That could open doors you hadn’t dared try to rattle.

And him? Well when he’d asked you to dance, you were sure he was the one. Mostly because he hadn’t truly asked, partially because of the bright mischievousness in his dark brown eyes. How could his eyes show you the future with a color so deep? Contradictory pulled you in. He could do the impossible and that was exactly what you needed.

He walks in and right up to you, tipping his hat before removing it and placing it on the bar. His head is a mop of messy black hair, his mouth full and soft despite what you can imagine is a rough lifestyle. His hands speak to it, calloused and dry and strong. With broad shoulders and an expansive chest, he’s attractive, it’s impossible to deny it. But that’s as far as you’ll let yourself go, you must think about his ability, about his skills and practicality.

You can tell he’s airish, smoother than the finest leather money could buy. He’s you, but better. You’re good at what you do, and you take pride in it, but there’s something about him that just says he’s better. His competence hangs in the air and the way he holds himself.

His voice is soft, but firm, full of confidence, “Dance with me, girl.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Depends on what sort of dancin’ you’re looking for, boy.”

His expression stays stiff besides his eyes that somehow glow even brighter at your quip. “The kind where you put one foot in front of the other. Sway a little.”

“That’s not something I’m lookin’ for.”

His mouth twitches ever so slightly, “Don’t I know it.”

“Then why’d you ask?” You question, brows knitting together.

“How else was I gonna catch your attention? Been here the entire week and you haven’t even given me a glance.”

“Seems you’ve caught me at a disadvantage then…”

“Folks call me Djarin. You can call me Din.”

You wince, shaking your head at him like he’s just committed some sin. In the world that you live in, he practically has.

“That your real name?”

“You think I’m lyin’?”

“I’m sure you have some idea what I think about you. But what makes me so special, Din?” You challenge, tilting your head at him.

He shrugs– as nonchalant as ever as he says, “Takes one to know one.”

Try as you might, you can’t hold back the laugh that rises in your throat, “You’re callin’ yourself special?”

He doesn’t bat an eyelash at your mockery— not only has he seen plenty in his day but he can see you down to your core, knowing you don’t mean it. Knowing you see him just the same. “Don’t you think so?”

You can’t argue with that. Instead of saying anything, you throw back the rest of your drink, nodding your head towards the bartender as if to ask Din if he wants a drink of his own.

You and Din don’t dance, and it’s he who ends up buying you a drink. Din clearly isn’t much of a talker but the space that settles between you feels surprisingly…comfortable. The two of you sip and watch the happenings of the saloon, no doubt searching for any possible targets to sink your claws into. There are a few that catch your eye, though there’s one man in particular, clearly drunk and full of himself by the way he won’t leave some of the women alone even after they say no. That coupled with the way he flashes his belt buckle one too many times makes him perfect. You know solid gold when you see it, and just like that he’s on your list.

When he finishes his drink he leans in, voice so quiet you have to lean in too to hear him. His voice is deep, smooth like honey in your ear, “Tomorrow mornin’, meet me on the outskirts of town. The west side near that little quarry. You know it?”

“Yeah, I know it. What’s there?” You ask curiously.

“You’ll see. Just before dawn,” Is all he says before placing a few bills on the bar and leaving.

Soon after you take your own leave, saddling up on your horse and heading back to your shack. Before you slip into slumber, you realize that he never asked you for your name. You’d lie to him even if he asks, a rule of the trade— one he’d broken for you, though you won’t let yourself look too much into that. But until then, you suppose you’ll both be satisfied with mystery.

Sleep is easy and peaceful, filled with dreams of two horses walking down a long winding path to a hidden lake amidst a lush garden. They drink and lounge there for what feels like a sweet eternity.

A summer morning can be many things but this one is damp and muggy– the heat oppressive. The sound of cicadas and early morning birds fill the air despite the sun’s slumber. When you wake you wash in the nearby river before dressing in a lightweight button-down and jeans, ditching the jacket that kept you warm at night. You head to the spot Din had told you about.

You would be lying if you weren’t wary— some random man telling you to meet in a location he’s chosen the night after meeting him is a risky game. But you’re fully armed, even your hunting rifle slung along your shoulders instead of stowed on your horse. Dutiful Augustine. She never disappoints.

The first thing that you notice when Din comes into view is that he’s not alone. There’s a man restrained on the ground and by the way he’s laid, you know he’s unconscious.

Is this what he called you here for?

Din takes one last drag of his cigarette as you approach, flicking it and snuffing the rest of its ember out with his boot.

“You showed,” His expression is tame as before but you can hear the warmth in his voice. It makes your tummy tingle.

“Did you doubt me?” You ask playfully, dismounting your horse.

“Not one bit.”

You bite away your smile, pointing at the man who’s lying on the ground, “Who’s this?”

“A present.” He says simply. At your raised brow, Din removes the cover from the man’s head. “You were eyeing him last night weren’t you?”

The smile that spreads across your face is brighter than the rising sun and Din’s heart flutters.

“I was. How’d you know?”

“We’re the same, ain’t we?”

There’s him reading your mind again. You’re playing it safe, not wanting to get your hopes up or let your guard down so you shrug, training your eyes on the man who’s knocked out and typed up in front of you.

“Wake him.”

Din takes his canteen from his horse and douses the man in water until he sputters awake.

The man takes in his surroundings quickly, panic in his eyes, “L-Look, I don’t want no trouble. Anything you two want you can have.”

You stoop down in front of the man, smoothing the wet hair in his face back, “Well, aren’t you a gentleman today. Last night, now that’s a different story.”

You see the moment the man recognizes you from the saloon. He shakes his head, glancing up at Din as if he’ll be some savior.

“No, no, look at her,” Din says firmly.

The grin on your face widens at his deferrence and your eyes meet his briefly before you look at the man again. “What’s your name?”

“Kurt.”

“Kurt?” Din repeats, disgusted. It almost makes you want to giggle, but you focus on the task at hand.

“Where do you live, Kurt?”

“In Strawberry,” The man says begrudgingly.

Your brows raise at the man’s sass given his current predicament,“Well, I imagined that since you were in the saloon last night.”

“You don’t live here and you were there.”

You reach out, gripping his chin with a firm grip that makes him struggle with the restraints, “Did I say you should speak on me and where I live?

“N-no.”

“Good, then we’re on the same page. Now— where do you live Kurt?”

“Listen, my brother lives there you can’t just—“

Before Kurt can finish his sentence you slap him across the face, hard enough that when he looks at you once more there’s blood in the corner of his mouth. You reach to your hip, hand resting on the hilt of the knife you have sheathed there and Kurt’s eyes go wide.

“You’re mouthy,” You say, displeasure obvious in your voice.

“T-three houses down from the saloon. To the left if you’re facing it.”

You look up at Din, raising a brow at him.

He shakes his head, kicking the man in the back, “Wasn’t the way you were walking last night.”

Through a cry of pain, Kurt tries to rationalize with the two of you, “I was drunk, why d’ya think it was so easy for you to get me?”

“Shit-talking my partner and a liar? You’ve got plenty of nerve for a man at my mercy.”

Din shifts on his feet, his heart fluttering in his chest again at the sound of you calling him his partner. The two of you haven’t discussed a lick of anything. He was right about you— he knew he would be. His eyes are glued to your face, drinking in every sadistic expression that graces your features, every harsh word that comes from your mouth. He’s enamored.

“No, I swear, that’s the house.”

“Kurt. It’s early. Do you see?” You grip his jaw, turning his head towards the light that peaks over the horizon. “The sun is just rising. It is early— I hate getting up early, don’t I, Djarin?”

“She does.”

“And now, you’re making this early mornin’ worse by lying to us. You think that’s wise?”

“I’m not lyin’!”

“I don’t like it when people force my hand, Kurt. I value making my own decisions but look at you, you’ve done it.” You slip the knife from the sheath, pressing it to the column of his throat. “Tell me which house, and we’ll make this fast.”

Kurt’s seen your faces, there’s no way that you could let him live, even if part of you wanted to. This’ll be the test. You know that Din won’t fail, you knew that moment you laid your eyes on him. But, if there’s nothing your daddy taught you, it’s to be thorough. Din is a man after all, and all men fall short at one time or another.

“Wait a minute now— wait just one minute—“

“Shhhh, everything’s just fine, yeah? The house, Kurt, focus,” Your voice is kind, sweet and smooth despite the force you use to press the knife against his skin.

Kurt’s shoulders drop in defeat as he murmurs, “It’s the one across from the general store.”

“See, s’all I wanted,” You take the knife away from his throat before looking up at Din who gives you a slow, understanding nod.

“Now all y’all need to do is untie me, I swear to God I won’t tell a soul. And I don’t swear on God, I don’t take the Lord's name in vain.”

“I believe you, Kurt. I really do.” You pat the man on the cheek before standing. “Din.”

As you back away, Din steps forward, sliding his gun out of his holster. Kurt begs and pleads, he pulls on his restraints and even tries to crawl away despite the way his legs are tied together. Din doesn’t let him get far, not wanting to give him any hope or waste anymore time on the man. Neither of your horses flinch or make a sound when the gun goes off. Neither do either of you.

He bends to take the shining belt buckle from the man’s hips, holding it out to you as he asks, “How ‘bout we go check out his homestead?”

You nod, take the buckle from his hand and slide it into the sack on your horse, “Lead the way forward.”

ch. 2: like it could be love

taglist: @honeybrowne, @hotchs-bitch, @jazzelsaur, @lesbianhotch, @ivyheliotrope, @campingwiththecharmings, @frogers, @juneknight

[leatherglovesandbutterflyknives]

It had been a long day, when Headmistress Spellman finally made it back to her office. As her assistant, you were bound to stay as long as she did, although she often dismissed you when she had late meetings with board members.

“Still here?” She asked, raising her eyebrow.

“When have you ever known me leave before you’ve finished your meetings?”

“When I order you to,” she smirked.

“And even then I rarely do as I’m told.”

Her lip twitched, and although she was still smiling, there was a sliver of something else in her gaze, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

“What a bad example you set to the children.”

“Or a good one. A little disobedience every now and then does a person good.”

“Oh does it?” Her voice was soft, but there was an unmistakable purr in it that sent your mind whirling.

Okay, no. No no. Get your mind under control. You must be more tired than you thought if the thoughts you usually controlled were leaking through… but then she never normally looked at you that way. Or lowered her voice like that…

“That’s what I heard.”

“Well then…” Her lips curved and she dipped her head. “Join me for a tea? I’ve got far too much paperwork to do.”

“Shame it can’t be anything stronger.”

Her low laugh curled delightfully in your stomach, and then she was pushing through the door and you were following, trying to contain the nerves thrumming through you.

With one elegant finger, she flicked the switch on the kettle, and you listened as the electricity began to hum.

Zelda sat at her desk, and then with a tired sigh, she lifted her legs and settled them on the desk. She opened the drawer and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

“One day, I will find a way to remove that imbecile Blackwood, and then no one will be able to stop me from making the curriculum less… old fashioned.”

Her long standing battle with Faustus Blackwood, a board member with more sway than he deserved, was something you’d witnessed Zelda struggling with for over a year now, since you joined the school.

The fact that she occasionally opened up to you about her battle tugged at your heart in a way that you had no business experiencing.

“Have you figured out how to do that yet?”

“No,” she sighed and then shot you a small smirk. “Perhaps I’ll be disobedient.”

You flushed and as the kettle came to a boil with a whistle, she lit a cigarette, raised it to her lips and took a puff, before standing.

“Tea?”

You swallowed against your dry throat.

“Please.”

[desired-victim]

Helloo! I wanted to request hisoka with corruption kink. Just write however you want to lolol i dont mind any freaky🏃

Ha *wipes sweat off forehead* I hope this hard work pays off. I put every ounce of effort in writing this 😮‍💨. I didn’t do any bullet points on this one but it does have about four thousand words! Please ignore the possible grammar mistakes, I do have trouble writing dialogue. I worked on yours all night long and I’m exhausted. My fingers sure are. I kept your request deeply in mind. You can see poor, little (Y/N)’s innocence melt right off her like ice cream ;). Anyway, here’s your request, my love 💕

I wanted to honor the divine feminine so you will see my appreciation for the female body below 👇

💕TW: The content below contains: degradation, domination kink, submission kink, dub con, threat of forced anal intercourse, pure smut, corruption kink, possible bad grammar, loss of virginity, dirty talk, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, corruption of innocence, Oh, and Hisoka is a TW itself.

Enjoy…

He’s tall.

God, he is so tall. Such long, strong legs - slender yet thick with muscle. Despite being erotically pleasant, his legs weren’t the best part of him. The best part of him was what your eyes followed. From his shins, to his knees, to his thighs, to his hips, to that beautifully sculpted torso of his, to his neck, and then you reached his eyes.

Those eyes. Those sharp, golden eyes of his.

His eyes unsettled most people. It was as though they could pierce your very soul, and see how weak and worthless you truly are. He's a predator - always keen, always aware, and always watching for a reason for you to be his next target.

Hisoka… how did you get those eyes?

She wondered how she caught his attention. He was the type of man to overlook girls like her. A blushing, doe eyed dolt, who could barely speak to strangers without stuttering a storm.

Why? Why would someone like Hisoka find her worthy of even being near him? Of being in his bed, of being by his side, of being between his legs. He is so very special, and I'm…

“My Little Slice, you look delightful when your down there~”

His voice shook her out of her thoughts. She looked at his teasing gaze and meekly lowered her sight to his lips. There, she saw them curl up into a grin. She tensed up and covered her naked chest with her arms. Just then, she realized how unbelievably exposed she was to his scrutiny.

“Oh, nervous now~,” he laughed out, sitting up from the headboard and closer to her face, “isn’t that sweet…”

More red than ever, she turned her face from Hisoka and leaned back. Instead of letting her move away, his hand wrapped around her wrist and thrusted her towards him. She yelped out as her cheek pressed against his hard chest, her face embarrassingly hotter than his cool skin. His chest rumbled as he let out a chuckle.

She put her hands against his chest and attempted to pull away, but his arm wrapped itself around her. She struggled to shove herself away and her efforts were all for nothing; he hadn’t moved an inch.

Perhaps it was foolish to pursue a 200th floor fighter. Where was her older brother to protect her now? He had lectured her beforehand about the dangerous people here and she laughed him off and teased him about being some sort of guard dog. Now, she needed him more than ever. She had never been in a situation like this before.

“No boys allowed, Y/N!” he usually shouted out, a vein practically popping out of his forehead. It almost seemed like he loved saying that as it was repeated over and over throughout her life.

All she wanted to do was explore a place she never ventured to. To seek the thrill that felt so curious and good, yet hidden like the inside of a flower that hasn't bloomed yet. A buzzing heartbeat that formed when she laid alone at night and gently ran her fingers up her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps and shivers.

Please help me, B/N…

Her struggles came to an end as she huffed, breathlessly. Hisoka’s hand trailed down her shoulders to her waist and to her hips. His hand was met with the pleasant plumpness of her bottom. She squeaked out in shock as his hand roughly squeezed her ass and kneaded it like dough. A loud crack reverated across the room as he slapped it, leaving a red blur behind. She gasped and her face converted into an embarrassed cringe. Frustrated tears pricked in her eyes as her fingernails dug deeply into his skin.

Once again, she attempted to wiggle away. Instead of his arm wrapping around her shoulders once again, she was swept over and under him. He was hovering over her and there was no way to escape. Her previous attempts at fighting back were a failure, and she no longer wanted to fight, only to flee.

Her eyes shot out towards Hisoka’s face only to find him smiling down at her. His warm breath fanning her face and his hips between her thighs.

The glint in his eyes shook her to the core. His facial expression was teasing and playful, but his eyes told a completely different story. She’s seen that look on his face before. The same expression on his face as he killed his opponents. He looked like an apex predator who was about to break the neck of his prey with his jaws.

“You’ve never been fucked before, haven’t you?” he asked, his finger trailing down her cheek, rubbing off a tear she hadn’t noticed fell.

Her face scrunched up at his vulgar language.

“No, I’ve never been f-“ she paused, hesitating before quickly spitting out, “no, ive never been f… fucked before.” Another tear came out of her eye. She never cursed - She wasn’t allowed to.

Hisoka giggled, his smile twisting even further. He looked down at her precious expression and felt his arousal rise.

“You're utterly adorable, you know that? I almost feel a little bad about this. Almost. But you wanted to play, and don’t be a spoiled brat when the other player is better at the game than you.” He mocked, his sardonic gaze on her. It made her want to shrink into the mattress and never come out.

“Now, now,” he said, sitting up, “I’ll make it as comfortable as I can.”

He spread her thighs and examined her high waisted shorts. He grabbed the zipper at the top and unzipped it. Down and down it went, until her underwear was revealed to him.

“After all, the first cut into the cake has to be perfect.”

Her shorts were suddenly off her and on the ground. She was only in her underwear now, more exposed than ever. Most naked she’d been since that time she went to the beach. She’d gotten sunburnt that day. At least then she had a top, now her whole body was on display to him.

Hisoka hummed as he tugged his own bottoms off, revealing the thick length of his cock. His cock looked magnificent combined with the rest of his body. That sexy v-cut of his looked like two arrows directing me to look at his big dick, so large it almost dangled under its own weight. It held its own though, refusing to droop over.

How is that thing going to fit inside of me? she thought.

He spread her legs wide open and examined the thin material of her underwear as the form of her vulva showed through. The flimsy material was practically invisible.

Hisoka’s big hands grabbed her behind her knees, pushing her legs up while also spreading them even further. The bed squeaked out as Hisoka crawled on his knees over to her, placing himself over her.

Hisoka’s claws clenched themselves around her legs, indenting the soft flesh, “You have such a soft, innocent face,” he said, his face hovering over menacingly. “But I know a hungry little whore lies beneath the surface… let me feed that little whore~❤️.”

Hisoka let go of one of her legs and let it fall against the bed. Her loose leg was between his two thighs and her other leg was still being held. The top half of her body was still on the bed. Hisoka’s strength was maintained as he carried half of her body weight into the air.

He’s so strong… of course he is, that’s to be expected of a top floor fighter.

The bed let out a groan as Hisoka pushed himself onto her covered cunt, rubbing his dick between her labia majora. His cock stroked the sensitive heat over and over again, he could feel her hotness tightening and then softening as her pussy throbbed to the beat of her heartbeat. The head of his cock stroked her hard clit over and over again, the little bump riddled with sensitive nerves. Her underwear was sopping as her pussy leaked out sweet nectar. The tip of Hisoka’s cock was also leaking with precum, mixing in with her own sweetness and creating an erotic cocktail.

“Yes, don’t stop,” she begged. “Please don’t stop - I want to cum so bad. Please let me cum, please!”

Hisoka let out a breathy laugh. “If you want to cum so bad, you need to beg for it. Only good girls get to cum. Are you a good girl~?”

“Yes! I’m a good girl! I’m your good girl, Hisoka!”

“Aw, you're so cute when you beg. But I don’t think you're a good girl. No, I think you're a naughty, little slut. Little sluts only get to cum when they're being fucked.”

The sensitive head of Hisoka’s cock pulsated with pleasure as he rubbed it against the soaked underwear. If he kept doing it, he was going to cum way too fast. He couldn’t let that happen. Not before he stretched her virgin pussy with his cock. He’d be damned if he let himself orgasm before biting into her innocence.

His nails dug into her thigh as he pushed himself further into her, making sure there wasn’t an inch of space between their heats. He was going to blow and If he didn’t stop, he wasn’t gonna see that shocked expression of hers when came in her for the first time. The longer he waited, the better.

(Y/N)’s pussy clenched and her breathing sped up. She was going to cum.

I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum, I’m going to-

Hisoka pulled back.

“No!” She yelled, kicking her leg in frustration. She let out another yell as her leg didn’t even move an inch in Hisoka’s grip. His grip was too strong. There was no way she could force her way to freedom.

“I was so close!” she shouted, a tear threatening to fall from her eyes. “Why did you stop! I felt so good!”

Hisoka threw his head back and let out a loud, sadistic laugh.

“Haha, you're so cute when you're feisty! I’m glad I’m the first who gets to fuck you.”

He let go of her leg after getting over his giggling attack. She found herself embarrassed as she blew out strings of her own hair out of her own mouth.

As she was pulling strings of hair out of her mouth, she was suddenly pulled back onto the bed by Hisoka’s hands around her hips. She gulped as she saw Hisoka’s face hovering over her crotch.

The part of her underwear that directly covered over her cunt was a darker shade than the rest of her underwear from when they grounded against each other like animals in heat.

She watched nervously as he adjusted his position. She let out a whole body shiver as both of his thumbs opened her lips like a little book.

Hisoka licked the side of her cunt - not directly stimulating her but gently teasing her. While not directly pleasuring her, the motion relaxed her from her last intense session. A little between-the-main-courses snack, if you will.

She sat up on her elbows and watched as Hisoka lapped at both sides of her lips. She felt a swell of affection begin to grow in her chest as she watched Hisoka’s cheek press itself onto the inside of her thigh. She realized how bold she’s gotten since they began to play with each other. In such a short while, Hisoka had corrupted her - denting that once-perfect surface with his perverted nature. To think ten minutes ago she was so shy she could barely even curse. In such a short time, she’d cursed more than she had in a year. A pang of guilt filled her as she thought about how her older brother would react. But he wasn’t here, and he never had to know.

In her own thoughts, she didn’t notice Hisoka’s face twist into a mischievous smile. Her eyes widened in terror as she felt his tongue on her covered asshole.

“Hisoka!” She shouted out.

How can someone be so vulgar?

“Oh, I’m sorry, my Little Slice~. I just love it when your sweet, angelic face turns into one of horror. It turn me on so badly~❤️”

Hisoka only smiled and slid his tongue upwards towards her pussy. He pushed the tip of his tongue against the entrance of her vagina and wiggled it there. If it wasn’t for her underwear, his tongue would have been inside her pussy.

The nerves around her hole were ablaze and her legs were shaking - with fear, excitement or pleasure? Perhaps all three, she did not know. All she wanted was to be pounded by him; she didn’t care how big and thick he was (from what she saw earlier, his cock had to be as thick as her forearm). Though she was unexperienced and naive to the acts of sex, this feeling was primal and indispensable. She needed it, she needed it like a runner needs water.

His tongue dragged itself from her entrance to her clit.

“Yes, yes,” she moaned out and spread her legs wider without an ounce of shame.

It was overwhelming in the best way possible. It was the most electrifying thing she’d ever experienced and she never wanted it to end. She wanted to be there forever - in that limbo of titillation and erotic reality that was unlike anything she could recreate with her imagination.

Hisoka rapidly moved his tongue against her clit. She squealed out loud and attempted to move her hips but his hands grabbed her hips and pushed them to the bed and continued to flick her covered clit with his tongue.

She lifted herself up to her elbows and looked down at him. A hint of fear aroused in her as she made direct eye contact with him. She was so caught up in her own pleasure she didn’t realize how deeply she was looking into his eyes.

As she continued to lock her eyes with his, her pussy began to relax, getting ready to tighten and cum on his tongue. Her heavy breathing paused and she caught that expression in her eyes.

Then her panties were ripped in half and her bare cunt was revealed to him. In a split second, his entire tongue was inside of her.

She screamed as her virgin cunny squeezed itself around his long, wicked tongue. Hisoka laughed out and wiggled his tongue - messaging and caressing her inner walls as she cummed.

The wetness of her aroused cunt seeped out and dripped down to her asshole, to which Hisoka slurped up and continued his assault on her cunny again. He did this over and over again until I couldn’t handle it anymore. My hands tried to push him away but he didn’t even budge. It wasn’t until my legs began to kick out in panic did he pull away.

“Ah, ah,” she panted, body completely limp. Hisoka observed her body. Her soft stomach was gleaming with sweat and the inside of her thighs were also gleaming.

“You might be the sweetest candy I’ve had since I first tried Bungee Gum all those years ago. I knew the moment I popped it into my mouth it would never leave me, marking me with its sweet syrupy taste just like a Scarlet Letter. Would it be a bold thing to say that you're just like Bungee Gum? You get so pink when you're played with. The pink on your cheeks is almost the same shade as my favorite snack.”

Hisoka let out a sudden dramatic sigh that startled (Y/N) for a second. “Unfortunately, the company who used to make Bungee Gum went bankrupt so now I have to search far and wide just to get a taste. Luckily for me, something similar is always nearby for me to stretch and pull at.”

He paused, looking directly into (Y/N)’s eyes with his own yellow ones. “You are, my sweet little slice~”

Hisoka grabbed her ankles and slapped her legs together. The loud smack of her thighs' sudden connection reverated across the room.

Hisoka wrapped his big hand over both of her ankles and grabbed his cock, stroking back the foreskin to reveal the pink, sensitive tip and a pearl of precum forming. He placed the tip of his cock on her clit, rubbing it in little circles before sliding it down her slit until it reached her entrance at the very bottom. He felt tempted to slip it into her ass before deciding it wasn’t worth the screeching. Even though he could easily cover her mouth and sodomize her tight little ass, he couldn’t just jump into completely breaking her; It would be a better idea to slowly lower her into the fire. A slow burn would be ten times more satisfying.

Putting both of my legs onto one side of his shoulders, he used his weight to push his entire cock into her pussy until his ballsack was resting against her ass.

She hissed through her teeth and threw her head back. She was filled with his cock. So full. So, so full.

She was bursting with new sensations. A new type of pain, a new type of pleasure. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt yet so primal and familiar. It was an instinct she never realized she had.

Bending over her with her legs still on her shoulder, Hisoka connected their lips for the first time that night. She could taste her own saltiness on his lips. It wasn’t the type of kiss she’d seen on romance shows (the ones her brother decided were appropriate enough to watch). No, this kiss was the complete opposite of those. This kiss was rough, unlike anything else.

She felt a burst of bravery as she slipped her tongue out and shyly lapped at his bottom lip. Hisoka let out a sardonic chuckle.

“Feeling brave now, are we?”

(Y/N) yelped as Hisoka slid his entire tongue inside her mouth, licking every corner of her mouth. Nothing was left untouched.

After completely violating her mouth with his tongue, Hisoka pulled away, smiling down at her.

“Are you ready?” He whispered. (Y/N) let out a shuddering breath and nodded. She braced herself by meekly grabbing onto the shoulder that didn’t have her legs with one hand, the other gripping onto the sheets.

Hisoka pulled back until only the tip of his cock remained in her, then he slammed into her with great strength. Her breath completely left her body with the slam of his hips. His hips smashing against her buttocks made a filthy sound that made her want to cum. The plop, plop sound that her pussy was also doing things to her.

Hisoka grunted with every hard thrust. She fit him just like a glove. It was almost like she was made for him. While the male penis did not have as many nerve endings as female genitals, a man can augment his sensations and cause it to heighten by being caressed just right. By holding her against himself, fucking her in a salacious dance, the more sensation builds up in his penis just like when a woman’s clitoris is tapped just so…

The friction of his cock pulling on her inner walls before being pushed inside once again left (Y/N) in a concoction of emotions. First, complete and utter pleasure. As he slammed his cock into her, dopamine bursted in her mind like an explosion of drugs. Second, regret. If her brother ever found out, how would he react to his own little sister getting fucked by the murderous Magician, Hisoka? She knew he’d feel like all his work to keep her safe were a waste of time and energy. Like all those years of pampering and protecting went right down the drain. She couldn’t let him find out. And thirdly, a rebellious energy. She was tired of being locked down by her own innocence. She wanted to explore the world. There had to be more to this world than just what she knew. There had to be.

From head to toe, she felt a symphony of pleasure as she came. Her toes clenched until they cramped. But she didn’t care, the pleasure outweighed the pain. Her fingers dug into his shoulder. She was sure there would be a five fingered mark there the next day. It would be a reminder of his clawed reach and her deflowering.

She screeched out as Hisoka went faster, overwhelming her. She hadn’t even gotten over her orgasm before he began to thrust into her twice as hard. She could feel his cock rub itself against the entrance of her womb.

It was primal to push into her beautiful, soft female body and pull back, only to push himself back. He could feel himself building up the height of his pleasure. The more he pumped, the higher the tower built, just ready to topple over and leave a big mess.

He looked at her closer than ever. Watching as her breast bounced and her lips glowed from their mixed saliva. He saw her eyes as she looked up at him, red from crying in complete pleasure. Her appearance increased his desire to come.

“Ahhhh,” he moaned out, feeling his orgasm in his very bones. It was a sensation he was familiar with. After defeating a powerful enemy, he sometimes glowed with the aftertaste of their fight and his victory. This was very similar - yet so different. More intimate, of course. His prey was still alive and he was still inside their body.

(Y/N) closed her eyes in bliss as Hisoka’s cum finally rested inside of her. Her breathing slowed down and the blush on her cheeks faded into softer shades of pink. The sun was coming down. Its orange tones highlighted her sweaty body like a canvas. It almost seemed like she was a freshly painted portrait. Divine Feminine tamed at last.

Both of them laid on their backs, observing the plain ceiling. It was relaxing to lay down after such an exhausting task. All she wanted to do was shut her eyes and rest.

Rest, rest, rest…

My brother! His fight is over!

(Y/N) shot up from the bed, practically tripping over herself as she gathered her things - putting them on. She didn’t even notice her bra was inside-out. More shockingly, she didn’t even notice cum was dripping down her legs.

Hisoka watched amusingly from the sidelines at her scattering around the room.

(Y/N) scanned the room for one final time. She groaned as she saw her wet panties on the bed, right next to Hisoka. She jumped onto the bed and reached for her underwear. As she pulled back, Hisoka grabbed her wrist.

“Tell me, (Y/N), how would your older brother react to hearing about how I ruined his little sister's innocence? How I fucked her and she enjoyed every second of it? I bet he’d try to kill me~.”

(Y/N)’s mouth opened and closed, not a single word leaving her starstruck mouth. Her body was paralyzed with fear. She forgot who she was dealing with in her panic.

“What's the matter? You want to keep our little secret just between us two? Fine. However, come to my room tomorrow at the same time you did today and we’ll have some more fun. If not…”

She didn’t need to ask - She knew. She imagined the consequences in her mind, thinking about the outcome of her moment of weakness.

Hisoka wasn’t done with her; this was just the appetizer.

—-

“Hey, (Y/N), where were you during my fight? I didn’t see you in the crowd at all.”

“Oh, I was just getting some snacks.”

“Ah, alright. Next time just tell me beforehand. I wouldn’t want a stranger taking advantage of my little sister. Right, sis?”

“Haha, yeah…”

[diosmio76]

What I Deserve | Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky couldn’t believe his luck when he found you. So innocent, so alone, and so naive. He had been following you throughout the week, hell- he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore and you never noticed him once.

Pairing: Reader x Dark!Bucky

WARNINGS: kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, gun mention (???), stalking, eventual dub-con, eventual non-con (maybe, I'll update when I know), 18+

Word Count: 1,235

A/N: Yes, a kidnapping story! A weak genre for me but let’s see. Also, idk assassin/military jargon there's only a little bit at the beginning I promise

Bucky pulled away from the scope and widened his eyes, chancing a look away from the building that he’d been watching all night. He looked down at the street noticing the occasional person walk by, no one was out at this time- let alone this late during the week. They’d been observing this target for the past month, he didn’t know the specifics of why they wanted him taken out and he didn’t really care. He’s good at what he does and he enjoys the solitude of the job for the most part.

He heard static and then Sams’s voice, an annoyed look painting his face as he heard him talk. It wasn’t that he hated the guy but he wasn’t used to checking in with a partner.

“You see any movement yet?”

He rolled his shoulders and neck before returning his position, shutting his left eye and pressing his right eye against the scope.

“No, haven’t seen anything for a while now- you sure this is the right time?” Bucky asked as he unsuccessfully tried to hide the boredom in his voice.

“Yeah, I checked a few times before we came, this is the only chance we’ll get this week. We saw the guy walk into the building and I hear movement in there. The fuck are you doing over there, sleeping?” Sam asked before continuing. “Look man, the sooner we kill him the sooner we can move on. Then you can go ba-”

Bucky stopped listening to his partner’s rant as he noticed the blinds open to the left of him. At first, he thought it was their target but remembered the floor plans of the room, he then noticed the silhouette of a woman in the window. She cracked the window open slightly before turning around. Before getting the chance to continue his observation he heard Sam in his ear.

“Alright, you should be getting a clear shot soon.”

“Roger” Bucky replied as he refocused his attention to his target. Readjusting his right finger on the trigger, using his left as a stabilizer. He followed his target, making sure he had a clear shot, before exhaling and taking the shot. He waited a few moments after and noticed no movement inside.

“Shot was taken, no movement detected on my end” Bucky radioed as his gaze moved towards the apartment with the open window as he waited for a response.

“Roger, All clear on my end. I’ll see you in the car”

Bucky began packing up, eyes zoned out in the direction of the apartment. He began wondering to himself if this mission was so boring to him that it turned him into a peeping tom, he didn’t even get a clear view of who was in there so why was it of so much interest to him? He let out a breath as he considered asking for a case that would let him travel somewhere else. Before he knew it he was placing his duffle in the trunk and got into the passenger side, shooting a quick look at Sam.

“I hate when you drive, makes me nauseous” Bucky replied in response to the face Sam was making towards him. He turned his head to look out the window.

“I get us there quicker than you do old man. Plus, you’re an assassin, I’m sure you can handle a little motion sickness” he quipped before speeding out of the parking lot.

Bucky scoffed before his mind drifted back to the woman in the window. He decided that he would return alone.

~~~

That next night he returned to his spot, this time focusing his attention on the woman’s apartment. He had free time after their mission, so he found himself sat here almost every day. When he wasn’t watching her from the roof, he was carefully following her.

On his first night he was able to get a clearer view of her, and while a part of him worried that he was peeping at an old lady at first, he was pleasantly surprised that that wasn’t the case. He noticed a few things about her these past few weeks, writing his observations in a small notebook as he did with most of his targets. But for her the notes were different. He wrote down everything she did and stuff that he imagined her doing- mainly stuff she could do to him.

He never thought of himself as someone with a partner, sure he used to imagine a domestic life and going home to the same lady every night but he never thought of that anymore. If he really wanted to he would call Ruby, she never asked questions and always knew to take her money and leave afterward. But the more he watched her, the more he considered his options.

Her routine rarely deviated. She woke up at 6 am and did some half-assed stretches. After that she would go to the bathroom, rarely shutting her door. He kind of liked that- he wanted to remember that when he took her. Then she would sit at her vanity and do her make-up. This was his favorite part, that concentrated look on her face as she did her routine. Mostly he liked that zoned out look in her eyes. That was a look he often referred to when he was alone. Then she would get dressed and leave for work, some corporate job that made a person feel empty. She would finish up a little after 5 and go straight home. Always the same route. As soon as she got home she would change, he noticed that she never wore pants. That would work fine for him, fewer clothes to get her- not that she’d be given that luxury anyway. For dinner she would eat as she cooked, looking uninterested at the finished product while she watched tv or scrolled on her phone. By 11 she would be in bed, but wouldn’t go to sleep till 3 or 4. It surprised him the first time he watched her at night, face lit up by the screen and one hand under the comforter but then he noticed the movement. Her comforter slowly moving up and down as her eyes screwed shut. Sometimes he would join her, imagining that it was him making her eyebrows furrow instead of her hand. She did that a lot, it made him chuckle. After that, she would toss and turn around the bed. He made a note in his journal to buy some sleeping pills for her. But she would be perfect because she was alone. On weekends, if she went out, it would only be to buy groceries or go to a store. She never stopped and only went where she needed to go. She never had anyone over and rarely went out with friends. It would be easier for her to acclimate to isolation.

Bucky decided he had all the information he needed about her. He went as far as following her, not that she’d noticed. He even allowed himself to be less careful. Once he even got close enough to smell her perfume- vanilla, flowers, and a hint of coffee. He assumed on his observation but up close confirmed that her personality was mousey- shy, awkward, and rarely noticed by anyone. He found himself grinning when he realized this. It was perfect, you were perfect.

[dumdumsun]

And Dusk

A/N: It's family dinner time, babes!!

Warnings: none that I'm aware of

Word Count: 3629

—————————————

Chapter 12: Team Zero

Striding into the steam-clouded sauna where the two remaining Swedish assassins now silently relaxed, The Handler began an unprompted conversation in their language. “All the new age remedies out there, but nothing beats a good schvitz when it comes to stress,” As she sat on the bench, the two men carefully watched her. “My job can be stressful, sure. But I can’t imagine what it must be like for you boys.” She batted her eyelashes.

“Do we know you?” The Swede, who appeared to be the leader, questioned. The Handler kept her head turned forward as she stared down.

“No. But I know all about you,” Standing from the bench, she quietly chuckled and walked to the center of the sauna, the steam crawling its way up to her neck. “However, seems you’ve run into some problems on this job.”

“Just a snag.” He tilted his head.

“You lost your brother. I’d call that more than a snag.”

Snapping, the second Swede pushed off the wall and marched up to The Handler. Before he could get too close, he grunted when she grabbed hold of his manhood, freezing his steps. She watched as his mouth fell open in pain. “What if I can give you the location of the knife-hurling dolt responsible for blowing up your beloved brother?”

The first Swede tilted his head. “Who are you?”

“Somebody you’re going to want to know.” Her eyes never left the man she was assaulting. The second Swede finally found the breath within him to speak.

“Unharm my weiner.” He wheezed in English, The Handler kindly doing as he asked, a smile on her face. He sighed and stepped away as his brother held up the hand that had been twirling a knife the entire time.

“Go on.”

At his words, she turned to him. “I’ll give you the exact location of the one you’re looking for. Diego. The rest… I’ll leave up to your imaginations.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“Let’s just say that his little game of ‘Hide the Sausage’ with my daughter needs a swift end. I just have one request,” The Handler approached the first Swede, the two in close proximity now. He watched her every move. “Don’t hurt the little one with the cute socks… and the other with the face scars.”

Lifting his chin, he furrowed his brows. “We’ve already killed her.” He mumbled. She only chuckled in amusement, the two men stiffening at the realization that their target may not have been executed like they thought.

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

The clicking of Reginald and (Y/N)’s shoes against the marble floor echoed throughout the hallway they walked down. The young girl was desperately trying to keep up with her father’s long strides, her puppy in her arms and her heart beating out of her chest. If they had actually complied, she was going to reveal her true whereabouts for the past two years to her family. They were going to know that the entire time they had been looking for Reginald, she was living under the same roof as him. No matter how many times she swallowed the lump in her throat, it always swelled right back up. “D-Dad, who are these people we’re having dinner with?”

“These people have been nothing but a nuisance to me.”

Her mind flashed back to the night of the gala. Diego had been there with Five. They were there for Reginald, to find out his intentions with the president. To find out what he was doing in Dallas in the first place. Reginald was a secretive man, he didn’t even let Grace or (Y/N) into his office unless he was present as well. Her stomach twisted in knots of anxiety the closer they approached the door to the tiki lounge. When Reginald stopped just before the doors, he turned to his daughter and lowered his voice. “When we enter, you are to sit and remain silent. Do not speak to them, do not interact with them. Sit and shut your mouth unless I tell you otherwise. And your pet remains on the floor or in your lap. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” She whispered and held Mr Pennycrumb close to her chest, the pup quietly panting and licking her cheek. That seemed to be enough for Reginald, for he nodded and turned forward, slamming the door open and marching into the lounge.

The Hargreeves stood dumbfounded at their father as he headed straight to the table they surrounded, not a word leaving his mouth. None of them had expected to see him ever again, especially not after the funeral they had attended back in 2019. But what they really didn’t expect to see was (Y/N) right behind him, her eyes avoiding them as she absentmindedly pat Mr Pennycrumb under his chin. She especially avoided looking at Five, whose jaw was dropped upon her appearance. The real kick was when Reginald pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit. Without even a peep, she sat down and allowed him to scoot her closer to the table before taking his own seat. The five blinked once before taking their own seats at the table.

“Not only have you burglarized my lab, set my chimp loose, conned your way into the Mexican consulate, repeatedly stalked and attacked not only me, but my daughter as well, but you have, on numerous occasions, called me-”

Klaus joined the table with a grunt, a martini in his hand. “Hey, Pop. How’s it hangin’?”

“-‘Dad’,” Reginald gave everyone a once over as (Y/N) shifted uncomfortably under the stares of her family. “My reconnaissance tells me you’re not CIA, not KGB, certainly not MI5, so… who are you?”

(Y/N) watched as they all glanced at each other, opening their mouths to answer, but quickly closing them instead. This went on for a few seconds before Five decided to do it, “We’re your children. We’re from the future. In 1989, you adopted us all and trained us to fight against the end of the world. Called us the Umbrella Academy.”

Reginald turned his head from left to right, frowning at each individual. “Why on earth would I adopt six-”

“Eight. One of us isn’t here.” Allison clasped her hands together on the table.

“Dead,” Diego muttered, his head bowed down. “One of us is dead.”

“And the eighth?” Reginald questioned. (Y/N) cleared her throat and began to speak, but stopped when he sent a cold glare her way. “What did we talk about?”

She quickly shook her head. “No, I… I’m the eighth. I’m also your child from the future. You just… got me very early this time-”

“(Y/N), it is not the time for your games-”

“It’s not a game! W-Why do you think I’ve been leaving my dates with Preston to be with them?” At the words ‘dates’ and ‘Preston’, Five leaned forward, eyes narrowed at his love. She glanced at him apologetically and shook her head. Reginald was just about to scold her yet again, but she rolled the sleeve of her shirt up to reveal the umbrella tattoo on her left arm. “Did you forget about this?”

“Yeah, ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba. Enough of that now.” Klaus hissed and turned behind him. Everyone froze and stared at him in confusion. Turning forward again, he simply motioned for Reginald to continue. Uneasy, he did just that.

“Regardless,” His gaze turned back to Five. “What would possess me to adopt… seven ill-mannered malcontents?”

“We all have special abilities.” The boy answered.

“Special? In what sense?”

(Y/N) set her pet on the ground and sat up in her seat. “In the superpowered sense.” She raised her brows. Reginald sighed and clenched his jaw.

“My child, if you do not stay out of this as we agreed, I am going to have to send you to the car with your mother-”

“Dad! I am being so serious when I tell you I am one of them!”

“Well, call me old-fashioned, but I’m a stickler for a pesky little thing called evidence,” He turned back to the table. “Show me. All of you.”

Allison scoffed and adjusted the straw in her drink. “Everybody wants to see powers all of a sudden…”

“We’re not circus animals, okay?” Luther spoke. “We’re not gonna bounce balls on our noses and clap our hands like seals for your amusement-”

As if on cue, Diego launched a knife across the table, zipping around Reginald’s head and pinning itself into the pillar behind him. The seven leaned in and watched as the man clicked his pen and began writing in his journal. “What are you writing?” Diego asked. Reginald glanced up at him.

“You are zero for two, young man.” He quipped, Allison sputtering her drink before Diego jumped up from his seat in anger. To prevent anything disastrous from occurring, Five stood and blinked in front of his brother, halting his movement and whispering a ‘stop!’ to him. “Now, that is interesting.” Reginald muttered.

Five sighed and headed back towards his seat. “Alright, uh, quick rundown. Luther: super strength. Klaus can commune with the dead. Allison can rumor anyone to do anything.”

“Except she never uses it.” Diego muttered. Allison removed her lips from her straw and sent a tight-lipped smile towards her brother.

“I heard a rumor… you punched yourself in the face.”

Against his will, Diego rammed his fist into his face, crying out and groaning in pain immediately after. Klaus reached over and tried to comfort him as (Y/N) and Vanya ducked their heads down to hide their smiles. Reginald glanced over at the latter. “And you?”

Luther placed a hand on his sister’s arm with a smile. “Uh, maybe we don’t take Vanya for a test run.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s probably not a good idea.” Klaus sat back in his chair.

“It’s fine,” Vanya shrugged, reaching for a fork. “I can handle it.” And despite her siblings’ protests, she tapped the fork against her glass. A high-pitched tone rang and shook the table. (Y/N) held her breath as she waited for the worst. A beat later, the bowl of fruit in the center of the table exploded, chunks of fruit splattering against everyone’s clothes and faces. (Y/N) tried to dodge as Mr Pennycrumb jumped into her lap, happily licking the food from her scarred cheeks and chin.

Reginald sighed along with his future children as he handed his only actual daughter a napkin to clean herself. Adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves, he side-eyed her. “Alright, my child, show me.”

Not even hesitating, (Y/N) stood and placed her pup in her father’s lap, despite his clear distaste, and straightened her clothes. “Alright. So, I can clone myself. To both summon and dismiss these clones, I have to sing two distinct three-note tunes.” To prove her point, she ‘ooh’ed her first tune, her clone appearing from her shadow, standing with a blank stare. Reginald raised his brows and began writing in his journal. “These clones not only share a conscience with me, but function as muscle and spies.”

“Spies?” Reginald frowned.

“They’re able to record their memories for me to look over in my own mind. Over the past year, I’ve come to learn that I can view these memories in real time. They also function to fulfill any task I command them.” Turning to her clone, she placed her hands on her hips. “Pick up Pennycrumb’s leash,” She commanded, the clone immediately doing as it was told. “I’ve also recently learned that I can give them the ability to talk. But if I wanted to… oh, I don’t know… attend a date with a certain boy without actually being there, I can project my consciousness into its body.”

After taking a seat, (Y/N) immediately slumped in her chair, unconscious. The clone beside her perked up and blinked twice before turning to Reginald. The man leaned forward to inspect it, but jumped back when it spoke. “But if something prevents my clones from fulfilling their task, they will start to self-destruct after twelve hours if said task isn’t completed. This is done by tearing into its own flesh and ripping itself apart.”

At this, everyone shivered.

“Right. It’s terrifying,” The clone returned to its blank and empty shell before (Y/N) raised her head. “And to dismiss, I hum the tune from earlier in its descending order.” She demonstrated said tune, the clone disappearing into her shadow. Mr Pennycrumb excitedly jumped from Reginald to her lap, nuzzling into her arm. “Any questions, Dad?”

Reginald was hastily scribbling into his journal. “Extraordinary. Absolutely extraordinary… And even more so that you’ve managed to keep this power from me for over a year.” He whispered. Turning her head, she caught Five’s proud smile. She winked at him as Diego stood from his seat.

“Look, we know that you’re involved in a plot to assassinate the president.”

“You were recently hospitalized, isn’t that correct? You still appear to be suffering from delusions of grandeur and acute paranoia.”

“Am I?” Diego reached into his back pocket and slid a picture over to his father. “Explain this. That’s you. That’s two days from now on the grassy knoll at the exact spot the president’s gonna get shot.”

Reginald picked up the photo and scanned it before his eyes moved to his daughter, the girl slightly shrinking under his gaze. Receiving his answer to the question he was to ask her, he turned back to Diego and set the photo down. “Well… I suppose you’ve solved it. You’ve single-handedly unearth my nefarious plot,” The smile Diego wore slowly faded. “Is that what you want to hear? You fancy yourself a do-gooder? The last good man who will save us from our descent into corruption and conspiracy? This is a fantastic delusion.” The more Reginald tore into him, the lower Diego sat himself into his chair until his lips were quivering and a tear slid down his cheek. “The sad reality is that you’re a desperate man, tragically unaware of his own insignificance, desperately clinging to his own ineffectual reasoning. More succinctly, a man in over his head.”

“Y-Y-You’re wr… wrong.” Diego stuttered. (Y/N) shakily inhaled and slammed her hand onto the table, alerting the rest of her siblings.

“Don’t you ever talk to him like that!”

“And you!” Reginald whirled to his daughter, the girl flinching a bit. “You have done nothing but deceive me! I half expect you to tell me that the man you chose over Preston sits among us!”

(Y/N)’s gaze instantly found Five’s. His green orbs were pleading, begging her to say it.

Tell him. Tell him you love me. Shout it from the rooftops, promise that you’ll always believe in us. Tell him.

But she couldn’t. Not when her doubts sealed her lips shut and casted her eyes away from him. The siblings stared between the two, heartbroken for their situation. Seeing that she chose to be ashamed, Five nodded and cleared his throat to speak. “Look, forget about the president. We have a catastrophic war coming in five days. We need to figure out how to stop it.”

“War?” Reginald looked away from his daughter and to the boy across from him. “Men will always be at war with each other.”

“No, this isn’t just some war. I’m talking about a doomsday. The end of the world.”

“Well,” Reginald muttered after a beat of silence. “You’re the special ones, aren’t you? Why don’t you band together and do something about it?”

Expecting much, much more than that, all seven of them frowned. This was what Reginald wanted from the start, for them to come together as the Umbrella Academy and prevent the end of the world. But it had been almost two weeks and two apocalypses managed to form due to their actions. That was why they couldn’t.

Grunting, Klaus suddenly raised both his arms in the air and shook uncontrollably, choking out gasps and jerking his body. (Y/N) gasped and slowly reached out to him.

“Is he having a seizure?”

“Overdosing, probably…”

“Should we do something?”

Whipping her head to Luther, (Y/N) widened her eyes. “Yes!” She shouted before turning back to Klaus as he shuddered. “Shit, what if he is overdosing?!”

“Klaus,” Five leaned over and whispered. “Now is not the time. What are you doing?”

Gurgling, Klaus turned his body to Reginald, face contorted in discomfort. “I’m… Ben!” He gasped out before falling to the ground, panting and groaning. (Y/N) rushed to his side and placed a hand on his forehead.

“Klaus? Are you okay? Can you hear me?” She whispered as he reached up and weakly wrapped a hand around her wrist. Reginald looked from Klaus, to (Y/N), then to his journal before he gathered his things.

“Well… thank you for coming,” He stood from his chair and began to walk away, stepping over Klaus’s body. “I’ve seen about enough. Come along, (Y/N), your mother is waiting for us.”

A loud slam sounded, causing everyone in the room to turn to Luther, who stood and ripped his buttoned shirt open. (Y/N) covered her mouth when he revealed his discolored bare chest and abdomen. “Look at what you did to me! Look at it!”

As the siblings groaned and gawked, Reginald simply turned his attention to Five. “You in the culottes. A word, in private? (Y/N), to the car. This instant.”

“Yes, sir.” She whispered before giving Klaus a kiss on the forehead and standing to her feet. Five walked by her side in silence until they had to split ways. Reginald turned to the both of them, and just when (Y/N) was going to turn out of the lounge, Five grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed a kiss to her lips. Gasping, the girl brushed her fingertips over her lips as her face burned. She watched Reginald for a reaction, but he only motioned for her to leave. “Bye, Five.” She grinned behind her hand and hurried away.

“This way, boy.” Reginald brought Five’s attention back to him, leading the two of them to the bar. After they took their seats and he ordered their drinks, Reginald turned to his future son. “You seem to be the sensible one of the bunch.”

“That’s because I’m the oldest,” Five nodded, Reginald tilting his head. “You know, technically, I’m older than you right now.”

Reginald turned forward when the bartender set down a bottle in front of him. “Cognac?”

“Just a smidge.” Five slightly smiled. As he poured their drinks, Reginald started their subject of conversation.

“The other night, you quoted Homer at me. Why?”

Five shifted in his seat and straightened his blaser. “You forced us all to learn it as kids. In the original Greek, no less.” He raised his brows before a glass was passed to him. He and his father did a silent cheer before he took a gulp of it. The entire situation was so jarring to the boy, but as he said before, he didn’t choose this life. He’s just living it. For the next few days, anyway. “This world ends in five days if we don’t get out of the timeline.”

“Worlds end. Paleozoic, Jurassic, and so on.”

“We can do something about this one.”

“Man’s greatest flaw: the illusion of control.”

The boy frowned. “I need your help. Alright? You’re my last sane option. Otherwise, I gotta make a deal that I really don’t wanna make. What do you know about time travel?”

“In theory?”

“In practice.”

Reginald hummed. “I know it’s akin to descending blindly into the depths of freezing waters and reappearing-”

“-as an acorn. Yeah.” Five finished with a sigh.

“What transpired when you tried traveling before?”

The boy blinked and shook his head as he looked away. “I botched it…”

“How?”

“I jumped too far forward, got stuck in the future for forty-five years in an apocalypse. Then I jumped too far backwards… except this time, I brought my entire family with me.”

Reginald tapped his fingers against the bar as he clicked his tongue. “Including (Y/N)?” He questioned, receiving a nod in answer. “Well, maybe your appetite is disproportionate to the size of your abilities. Start small. Seconds, not decades.”

“Seconds?” Five widened his eyes. “Look, no offense, but I need a bit more time for what I’m trying to accomplish here.”

“So much can change in a matter of seconds. One can overthrow an empire,” His eyes moved from Five to the doorway (Y/N) had been standing in seconds ago unbeknownst to Five. “One could fall in love. An acorn doesn’t become an oak overnight.”

Five swallowed, his expression that of defeat. “I was really hoping you had more than that.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help…”

Five shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry, too. I gave you such a hard time as a kid… I didn’t know any better.”

Humming, Reginald glanced down before raising his glass. “No skin off my teeth, old man.” He smiled before drinking. Five sighed and downed the rest of his drink before standing from his seat. “One more thing.”

“What is it?” Five turned back to his father, freezing at the cold look he had been giving him.

“It would be best… if you refrained from courting (Y/N).”

A pang going through his chest, Five rapidly blinked and stepped back. “W-What…?”

“Your relationship is not healthy,” Reginald stood from his stool and began walking past the boy. “And besides…”

Five clenched his fists as his father walked towards the exit of the tiki lounge.

“I have plans for her.”

—————————————

Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @sappyassmemes @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @sm0kingcrack @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @zerocanonlywriteshit @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @isawachickeninatree @theyaremorethanjustfictional @that-can-of-fizz @luckyzipperscissorsbat

[writethelifeyouwant]

Sin

Created for: @ilysm-mybabybrother

Pairing: Dean x Reader / Sam x Reader / Dean x Sam 

Warnings: Dub-Con 

Additional tags: Cuckolding, Dirty talk, Praise kink 

Word count: 2,076

A/N: Written for my @spnsecretsantaficexchange set up by my bae @negans-lucille-tblr as a present for the lovely @ilysm-mybabybrother (who I’ve been a long time stalker of, nbd). They requested something smutty with dirty talk / praise kink / cuckolding / and the brothers touching each other - potentially with Demon!Dean or BoyKing!Sam - I’ve gone with Soulless!Sam - I hope that’s still okay! I think I managed to work all the other kinks in there... Anyways I had a lot of fun writing it so I hope you enjoy it! Merry Christmas 🎄

Dividers: @firefly-in-darkness 

Dean hadn’t let himself imagine this moment. 

When Sam jumped into the pit with Lucifer riding shotgun, Dean made himself accept that. Bobby came back, Cas came back, but when Sam didn’t appear with them, he had to let him go. He promised he would let him go. 

He kept his promise. He found a job in a garage in Texas. He wooed a girl who brought in a car that sounded like his old neighbours in Hell were trapped under the hood. He picked her up in the Impala and dropped her off on her doorstep with a kiss and a promise to call; and he actually called her. They weren’t living together, but they spent most of their time at each other’s apartments. Dean taught her a bunch of ways to doctor up boxed mac’n’cheese, and Y/N taught Dean how to mix cocktails with cheap whiskey that actually made it taste nice. The earth was still turning. 

But now it had stopped, because Sam was standing in front of him, dripping in holy water and cut across his arm - not a monster or a demon, it was Sam. And Dean didn’t care that he got wet too when he pulled his little brother in for a bone crushing hug, because nothing could be wrong again now that Sam was back in his arms. At least, that’s what he’d thought two hours ago. Because now, as his wrists were getting rope burn and his ears were ringing with Y/N’s soft whimpers he knew something was wrong. Something was very wrong with Sam. 

“Wow, Dean,” Sam had exclaimed when he introduced him to Y/N, who had been cooking dinner when he showed up at Dean’s door. “He’s lucky he met you first, darling.” Sam’s eyes dragged up and down her body hungrily, and Dean was taken aback because that was not like Sam at all. Usually Dean was the horndog between the two of them but, I guess you would get pretty horny being dead for a year, Dean reasoned to himself. He remembered that feeling, after he got back from Hell, of wanting something to really make him feel alive again. It would just be nice if Sam didn’t use his girlfriend to feel that. 

But as the evening progressed, and dinner turned into drinks, and beer turned into liquor, Dean felt more and more like he might not get a say in the matter. Sam was all over Y/N, flirting harder than Dean had ever seen him flirt, and way better than Dean remembered him being at it, come to think of it. And Y/N wasn’t turning him away. She was laughing and smiling and getting him another drink, and being the perfect goddamn housewife all while Dean was sitting there watching the two of them. 

And then when Y/N brought him a refill on his whiskey she shot Dean a look that he’d only seen once before, when she’d asked if they could take home the cute waitress so Dean could watch. Back then, Dean had thought he had the best damn girlfriend ever. He essentially got a front row seat to one of his favourite pornos. But the thought of her sleeping with Sammy... Dean wasn’t wild about that one. Except he didn’t know how to say that to Y/N and Sam, so he just kept drinking and hoped it didn’t come up. He wasn’t so lucky. 

He tried to step in, when Sam put his hand on Y/N’s thigh and dug his fingers in - Dean gritted his teeth and choked out a cautious “Sam…” but the warning died in his throat when he looked into his little brother’s eyes and saw empty determination and cold hunger. He didn’t see his brother. “Y/N get away from him!” Dean shouted and reached for the knife stashed in the end table next to him, but Sam was faster, drawing his own and shoving it threateningly under Dean’s chin. 

“Whatcha doing there, Dean?” 

“What are you?” 

“I’m your brother,” Sam teased, lips curled in an ugly imitation of Sam’s warm smile. 

“What happened to you down there?” Dean demanded, because if this was Sam, something changed - something was different. 

“Oh so much, big brother,” Sam laughed but there was no emotion behind it. “Learned a few things too. How ‘bout I show ya?” And now Dean’s hands were tied above his head with his own goddamn rope on his own goddamn bed, while Y/N was laid out between his legs with her head on his stomach as his own goddamn brother went down on her. 

“Mm, you’ve got such a good little pussy, sweetheart,” Sam sighed, sucking on her clit and pulling a whine from her lips. Y/N’s breath ghosted over Dean’s naked cock, making it twitch despite his best efforts to be disgusted at what was happening right now. “Hope Dean’s been giving this cunt the attention it deserves.” 

Y/N whimpered a little, but didn’t answer, prompting Sam to slap between her legs. “My brother been treating you good? Giving you enough cock to keep a pretty thing like you happy?” 

“Yes,” Y/N gasped, clenching around the fingers Sam had just pushed inside her. “Yeah he’s good - mmh - so good to me,” she moaned. 

“Yeah?” Sam sneered, twisting his fingers to push against Y/N’s clit and make her writhe. “What’s he best at? I’ve always wondered when I heard the moans from the next room.” 

“Sam…” Dean complained, finding his impertinent big brother tone despite the situation he was in at the moment. 

“His mouth,” Y/N sighed, happy to answer despite Dean’s protest. “I love his mouth, it’s so soft… and when he kisses you, it can take your breath away.” 

“How romantic,” Sam smirked. “Always knew Dean was a bit of a softie deep down.” 

“Fuck you,” Dean growled, pulling uselessly against his restraints again.

“Ladies first,” Sam laughed, and pulled his fingers from Y/N and sucked them clean, eyes boring into Dean’s while he swallowed his girlfriend’s slick. “Turn around baby, get on Dean’s cock,” Sam directed, landing a slap on Y/N’s ass when she turned and crawled over Dean. She shivered when she pressed his cock against her entrance, pulsing down slowly, working him inside her bit by bit. 

“Oh look at you,” Sam cooed, brushing her hair off her shoulder so he could bite into her neck, pulling a moan from her chest. “Such a good girl teasing him like that, I didn’t even have to tell you to.” Y/N smiled to herself as she finally got Dean fully seated inside her, revelling in the stretch and fullness of it all. “How did Dean manage to find such a good little slut, huh?” 

Y/N giggled lightly but didn’t say anything, just rolled her hips, drawing a gasp from Dean, whose eyes were squeezed tight in pleasure. Y/N felt so good around his dick. And he hated to admit it but he was in fucking heaven right now. This was so, so wrong but it was so hot, every other thought was being pushed out of his mind for the moment. He just wanted Y/N to keep moving, and he wanted Sam to keep talking. 

Sam wrapped his fingers around the back of Y/N’s neck and shoved her forward, so she was lying chest to chest with Dean. “Give her a kiss Dean. It’s her favourite after all,” he teased. Dean wanted to find some retort to throw back at his brother, but Y/N’s lips were swallowing his before he got a chance, and he decided this was a better use of his breath anyways. 

They kissed and licked and moaned as they ground together, Sam watching on and stroking himself lazily. He reached one hand forward and drew lazy patterns on Y/N’s ass which was bouncing so nicely on Dean’s cock. Sam bet it felt amazing to be inside her. “Mm, you’re fucking him so good, Y/N,” Sam praised, petting his hand down her back. “Look so hot with a cock inside you.” He crawled forward and draped himself over the couple, bumping his hips into Y/N’s and grinding against her ass. She moaned happily and fucked back harder, trying to rub against Sam as much as she could without pulling off of Dean. 

A choked whine slipped through her lips when Sam’s cock caught between her cheeks and nudged at her other entrance. “Oh,” Sam grinned at her reaction and repeated his motion, pushing against the taut, puckered skin. “You have more in common with Dean than I thought.” 

“What?” Y/N panted, confused and distracted by all the sensations she was swimming under. 

“What, Dean never told you? Never asked you to fuck him up the ass?” 

Dean’s eyes shot open, horrified. How did Sam know? 

“You didn’t really think I didn’t know, did you, Dean?” Sam smirked, still rubbing himself against Y/N’s ass, but letting his fingers trail down further, skating over Dean’s inner thigh, making him jump. “You told me about Rhonda Hurley and the panties when I was sixteen, but I knew that wasn’t the whole story. I found the strap on after you picked me up from Stanford. How many girls you given it up to, big brother?” 

“Fuck you,” Dean ground out, mortified. 

“You know what, I just might,” Sam drew small circles with his fingertip the whole way across Dean’s skin until he reached his target. “What do you think, Y/N, should I give your boyfriend what he wants?” 

“God yes,” she gasped, riding Dean hard, head buried in his shoulder. 

Sam spit on his fingers and pressed them back against Dean’s ass, teasing his hole until it was nice and slick and he could slide a finger in without too much resistance. Dean was tense, trying to fight what Sam was doing, trying to fight wanting what Sam was doing, but he didn’t think he was strong enough. Sam’s finger twisting inside him actually felt amazing. It had been over a year since he’d let anyone fuck him and god, he had forgotten how fantastic it was, feeling this full, this whole. 

Sam felt Dean accept what was happening, felt him relax around him, and took that as his cue to add more spit and another finger. Then another. He pulled them out when he felt Dean was ready and tugged Y/N back so she was sitting up against his chest. “You ready to cum, darling?” He snarled in her ear. 

“Mmhmm,” Y/N whined, bouncing faster over Dean, but Sam hoisted her off his brother and sat her down between his legs where they’d started. 

“You’re gonna get my cock nice and wet, aren’t you baby? Gonna be good and cum all over my cock?” 

“Yes, fuck yes, please,” Y/N begged. Sam slammed in place inside her and didn’t hesitate before fucking her at a furious pace, rubbing his thumb over her clit and pulling scream after scream out of the girl writhing beneath him. He felt, with satisfaction, a surge of heat between her legs, and knew her cum was trickling out from between her thighs. 

“Good girl,” Sam huffed, cold smile firmly in place. He pulled out and looked down to see veins of white dripping over his skin. “Got me nice and wet for your boyfriend, good job, sweetheart.” Y/N rolled out of the way, sated and dazed, and anxiously watched Sam climb over Dean and rub his cock between his legs. 

Dean groaned, eyes pressed tight, trying to pretend he wasn’t about to let his little brother fuck him. Trying to pretend he didn’t desperately want his little brother to fuck him. But when Sam pushed in he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t love it. It felt so different to having a dildo in his ass, and it was so much better. It was warm, flesh and blood; his flesh and blood. When Dean clenched around him, Sam moaned and thrust harder into his brother. Dean loved how responsive he was, and did it again, earning himself another thrust. 

“Think you’re being cute?” Sam panted and glared down at Dean, who smirked up at his little brother with his last vestige of self-respect. 

“I think I’m adorable.” 

“And I think you’re gonna regret that.” 

[theodora3022]

Claim (Yandere Chuuya Nakahara)

Pairing: Yandere! Chuuya Nakahara X Fem reader

Summary: You have the courage to mock Dazai when he flirts with you casually, different from almost every other woman Dazai throws himself on. Seeing his nemesis being stepped on brings Chuuya great joy, which escalates to him taking a special interest in you.

Notes: So...If you read my BNHA fics you should know I have a thing for wind superpowers, so reader is going to have a wind ability in here as well. Be gone if you have problems with that. My first take on BSD, on Chuuya nevertheless... Hopefully this does not flop. I thought about writing Kunikida for this one, but I just could not get Chuuya’s smirk off my mind (Along with Fyodor’s but that is for another day) Also this is self indulgent as hell, so be warned. I’m not satifised with the final result, as some parts feels a bit forced...But there you have it. 

Word count: 2.8k 

Warnings: Drugging, coercion, mention of knife and blood, implied non con  at the end

You were sitting beside a floor window of a café when Chuuya first saw you, when he was on his way to get some beer. At first, it was not you that drawn his attention, it was that guy on the opposite end of the coffee table.

Osamu Dazai. Also known as the bane of Chuuya Nakahara’s existence and his greatest adversary. Out womanizing again, he never changes. He was about to ignore those shady behaviours and just carry on, until he hears how you are attacking Dazai with your words.

“Dazai, please. I bet you said that to every woman you met.” Slowly stirring your hot beverage, you smirk as you took a little sip. “It is a miracle how you got this far unscathed.” You seem to see right through Dazai, how clever. Now Chuuya have to hear how this can go down. His own drink can wait, this little comedy show is more worthwhile.

“But beautiful! Your eyes shine like the brightest stars, I just cannot let that go unappreciated.” “If you are so found of shining things, I can get you a pack of glitter to stare at. I would actually appreciate it if you stop staring right into my eyes, thank you.” This is a mistake, you thought. You thought Dazai was just being a good Senpai when he invites you to join him for a quick coffee at lunch. And of course being the naïve new recruit, you said yes without hesitation.

A pack of glitter? Oh dear. Out of all those years Chuuya has known Dazai, he had never seen the brunette getting such a good roast. Placing a hand over his mouth to muffle his chuckles, Chuuya is beyond amused. Most women would be too busy swooning over that pretty face, but you did not even flinch and insulted him just like that. You got some sass!  That is the first time the mafia executive had taken a formal notice of you. You are indeed a fair woman, no wonder Dazai would choose to hit on you.

He does vaguely recall recently hearing about the ADA obtaining a new recruit. A young woman with a wind ability. But you are far more interesting then that. “This has been pleasant, but I think it is time to head back to the office.” When Kunikida told you Dazai can be a handful yesterday, you did not expect this is how you would find out. You stopped him from taking out his wallet, shaking your head: “Dazai. I will pay for myself. Besides, you are in enough debt as you are now. See you back at the agency.”

Not even Chuuya can make Dazai appear this defeated, this discouraged. Just who are you exactly? Forget the beer, Chuuya needs to know all about you at once. 

Reading through your file back at the headquarters, your info is enough to make even Chuuya raise his eyebrows a couple of times.

You can command any gas to your will? That is a rare gift, even the Port Mafia had yet to secure that. Too bad you are on the wrong side, Chuuya can just think of so many ways of using your ability to its full potential. The file was put back to the storage, sure. But you had impressed him back at that café and peaked his interests. It would be hard to make him unsee Dazai being humiliated. But you did not linger on his mind much after. 

However, that would not be lasting too long. Chuuya was shocked to hear some of the members has died in dark alleys of yokohoma, apparently from lack of oxygen, but without any traces of choking or even a cut. Mori even called him to the office to discuss about this.

Pictures of you, in causal and business attire lay across the expensive office desk. You were smiling in all of them, although that smile does not look like an amused one to Chuuya now.

“Do you recognize this woman?”

How can Chuuya forget about you? The woman who gave him the best comedy show, who stomped on Dazai’s philanderer ways so mercilessly. “A new recruit of ADA. Her air control abilities must have enabled her to suck the oxygen particles out of human bodies. It also gives her the ability to levitate and an incredible speed, which is such a headache. Even Akutagawa cannot seem to finish her.”

What a little troublemaker you are. Consider Chuuya motivated. He knows you are strong, but not anyone can escape from Akutagawa. Where is the fun without a little challenge?

“I will go. My abilities would allow me to get the job done.” Heck, this once he would get something Dazai cannot have! In this mini game, at least, Chuuya would be the winner. 

“Chuuya, you seem awfully enthusiastic about this. May I ask why that is?” Stroking Elise’s hair, Mori carefully observe the young man’s expressions. “She has the guts to insult Dazai, should be a fun one. I do not plan to kill her, however. That would be such a waste.”

“Yes, that would be most ideal. Her ability would be a valueble asset, here’s some drugs if she is being too difficult.”

Oh but you are so much more then the wielder of a powerful ability to Chuuya.

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

Work has been a pain in the ass lately, so on your afternoon off, you choose to take a walk along the water in the park. Everything looks so peaceful, children running amok, couples holding hands, the sound of the birds chirping, all sounds so natural and calming. You let out a sigh of relief as you settled on a bench beside a tree and closed your eyes, breathing in the forest scent, still sleep deprived from the nightmares.

Although you only killed those gangsters to defend a civilian, you regret it somewhat afterwards. You expected revenge, but not from someone like Akutagawa? You can only remove the target’s oxygen from their bodies when you are standing still and concentrated, never while fleeing for your life. If it is not for your unparalleled speed, you were sure one of those dark spikes is going to be your ultimate demise. It was too close for your liking. Before you were always able to leave safely with your ability, but this time you barely made it.

Dozing off in a park while the Port Mafia is on your trail? Chuuya would advise against that. 

However, he would say he much prefer this compliant, soft look on your face compare your sarcastic, confident grin towards Dazai. Dark circles under your eyes? Have you been having sleeping problems? Looks like the little hero is not as brave as she lets on.

Now, he needs to be careful. Even though you look as harmless as a little bunny now, Chuuya can still recall the last expressions his deceased subordinates made. Dying from oxygen loss surely does not look pleasant. While the file said you can only use that special method once per week, Chuuya cannot leave any room for errors. 

Ah, it seems you had carelessly dropped your handkerchief on the ground. You did not seem to notice. As if you want him to come near. Who is he to decline a lady’s invitations?

Sensing his approach, you jumped out the bench and distanced yourself from Chuuya. Always on your guard, this should be interesting. Instead of kept closing in the distance, Chuuya bend down and picked up your handkerchief. “Did you drop this?”

See, you were overreacting! He is only trying to tell you that you dropped something. Feeling the guilt of mistaking him for an assassin churns in your stomach, you put up an apologetic smile: “My apologies, sir.  And thank you very much.” Yet you cannot shake off the feeling of you saw him before. Is he a government official? Or perhaps a store clerk? It would be rude if you actually do know him. Yes, you definitely seen his handsome face somewhere. Reaching out to his outstretched hand, you tried to retrieve your handkerchief. But as you take the little square cloth into your hand, his slim but firm fingers snapped around your wrist like handcuffs, seizing you with a smug smirk on his face. “Let go of me, Sir. You wouldn’t want me to use my ability on you.” 

Your gaze turned cold as the winter snow, as if you are willing to punch him in the face then and there. 

A good chance to observe your ability in action. How can Chuuya miss this opportunity? You tried to wiggle out of his grasp while activating your winds, but to your horror, it does not seem to have any effect on Chuuya. Sure, his hat and hair are flowing because of the strong wind, but he has not moved a single inch, still clenching your left wrist in his hand, lips still curling upwards. Turning to your second solution: bringing rocks to hit him until unconsciousness. Why wouldn’t the rocks move? Just who is this man? “Are you with the Port Mafia?”

That took you long enough. Chuuya let out a sinister chuckle, pulls you into his embrace with ease. Locking his right arm around your waist, he whispers beside your ear: “Of course, cutie. And you just walked straight into my trap. Now, it is best if you do not move, I would hate for this knife to leave a scar on your fragile little neck.” Feeling a thin, cold blade pressed against your throat, threatening to cut into your skin, you nervously gulped. Who is he exactly? You should have memorized the faces of the big names of the mafia-

Your ability is impressive. Even Chuuya has to admit that much. If it were not for the reinforced gravity he applied on himself, he would be on the other side of the park by now. Such a shame you are working for that little agency. Crap. You finally remember. Cursing sleep depravation under your breath, you recall where you had seen his face: the files back in the agency. One of the executives, Chuuya Nakahara, with the powers of manipulating gravity. That is why your winds cannot push him away. Just how did you end up with an executive’s knife pressing against your throat? 

Under ideal circumstances, you would order the oxygen particles to stay away from this man, but that ability could only be used once per week. You have not recharged enough, and the fact that you are not in best condition does not help either. 

“Now, you got two options, sweet. First, you can try to get away, and it would not end pretty.” Chuuya laughs he feels you shiver, clearly frightened by the idea of your blood spilling out like a fountain once he slices open your throat. Your resistance has pathetic impacts on him, but you have to at least try. You have been neglecting your physical training because you often rely on that extraordinary speed your ability grants you. However, that also means you are helpless in close up situations such as present. Not so confident now, aren’t you? “Second, pay a visit to our headquarters. The boss would like an audience with you.” You certainly do not want to fall into the hands of the port mafia. However, there are civilians in the park. They did not seem to notice how Chuuya is holding you at knifepoint.  Letting yourself, an ADA agent die here would mean the agency’s reputation is done for. Getting yourself killed in broad daylight, in a public place no less! How incompetent. Looks like the only option is to go with him, for now. “Fine. I will go with you.” “Smart choice. But I would expect no less from an intelligent woman like you.” He carefully removed the knife, and just when you were about to relax and think of a retaliate method, you felt a sharp pain on your left arm. A syringe. Just what did he injected you? Watching you fall onto the ground by your knees, barely able to lift a finger due to the sedation drugs, brings him a strange sense of contentment. Chuuya does not consider himself as a sadist by any means, but after seeing how you treated Dazai, shining with confidence and smugness, only made this submissive version of you so much more satisfactory. “Do not look at me like that, dear (y/n). Just a little insurance that you would not leave without permission. I hope you understand.” You do not, but that does not concern him. Swooping you up effortlessly, Chuuya carries your weak body out of the park, straight to a van that awaits there for a long time.

You never imagined, not even in your wildest dreams, that you would be in the Port Mafia’s headquarters like this. Being carried through corridor after corridor ,by one of their executives like a doll, although not by your own free will. Guards everywhere, almost at every turn point. Maybe you can break one of the windows and fly out? Alas, that would not possible if all you can generate is little breezes due to your present condition. 

“Do not worry, (y/n).” Feeling your body tense up, Chuuya choose to reassure you, or at least try to. “If simple murder was my objective, you would be dead in that park.” 

There are worse things then death. You really did mess up this time. You do not even want to imagine what they could do to you. 

“Enter.”

Placing you gently on the carpted floor, like a fragile china artifact, Chuuya bowed to the man behind the desk. “I brought (y/n) here, as you requested.” A cloved finger lifts your chin up, forcing you too look up into his eyes. You did not flinch, instead you stared back with unveil anger burning in your (e/c) eyes. 

“Quite a feisty one. Would you like to join us? Your wind ability completely outclasses my other assassins. That speed and that special method! Truly impressive. You should not waste your talents in that agency. The Port Mafia could offer you more.”

Using the little strength you had left, you got away from the mafia’s boss’s reach and shook your head: “I would rather die a gruesome death then working for you. If you want to kill me, you can do it now.” 

“Then, I suppose we need to change our method of negotiation-” Great, you can already feel those cold torture instruments.

“I can handle it.” To your surprise, Chuuya stopped the man from saying any more. 

The older man looks to his subordinate with curious eyes. “Chuuya? Are you sure? Wouldn’t it be better to leave this to our experts?” 

“Leave it to me, boss. She would be compliant within a week, I can guarantee.” Why would he want to trouble himself with this? Well, he merely wants to claim what Dazai cannot, as simple as that. 

“As you wish, then. As long as you do not break her beyond repair, she is all yours.”

You want to shout, to scream that you are not some object to be hand over, but you just do not have the energy to do so. There is not much you can do beside being a silent observer on the ground. 

Instead of a torture chamber, Chuuya took you to his personal quarters in the Mafia base. Perhaps he wants to do this the tender way? Sway you with high salary or numerous other perks of working in this mafia? 

It is when he thrown you on the bed, straddling over your helpless form, tearing your clothes off mercilessly, you realize how wrong you were.

“You look so good under me, where you belong.” He did not even bother to unbutton your blouse, just ripped the fine fabric off swiftly, grinning at your horrified expressions. “Come on, do not look so scared. This is not like you. Where is your fierce spirts when you insult Dazai?” Has he been stalking you? How could he-

“Ah, no matter. That jerk tried to win you over, but it is me who would get you.You would forget all about him when you are busy screaming my name later. Do you think you can handle my torture methods, dear (y/n)? Gods, you are beautiful. No wonder why Dazai would be head over heels for you.” 

How you bit your lip to supress your tears, trying to cover your chest for some modesty, only made his lust increase drastically. This time, Chuuya can finally be proud of his accomplishment: claiming a prize Dazai can never possibly won.

[thedeviltohisangel]

Good Days, Bad Days//1//

“You have it,” she whispered after a moment of silence. There was a gentle breeze that wove itself between them as if to capture the agreement they had come to and carry it somewhere they could neve break it. Clara could see in his eyes that he was being serious. That he wanted her to understand that because they wore camo and she didn’t, didn’t mean one was more expendable than the other.

masterlist is my url/writing

accepting requests for these two

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting. Everyone had told her not to think it would be like Jack Ryan when she got there but she couldn’t help it. There was no way to characterize how you would find the desert when you landed there so no one had really tried. They told her what it wouldn’t be, not what it would be. It was quiet. It was lonely. It was twelve hour days and short showers and nothing but the gym to keep her busy. She did her job and she did it well. Using her spotty network connection to research locals and their networks. Developing target packages for the case officers that worked around her and anxiously awaiting her turn to go into the field.

“Did you hear Leo met with the source you found last night?” That perked her up as she was picking over some chicken thighs at her desk.

“Yeah? Get anything good?” Leo was due to rotate out soon. She had been gearing herself up to ask about taking over his assets once he did.

“Don’t know. Debrief in an hour. You should be there.” She didn’t need to be told twice. Forcing a couple more bites into her mouth, she ran back to her housing unit to brush her hair, teeth and reapply deodorant. And after a pep talk to her reflection, she was ready. She stood towards the back of the room and hid partially behind the shoulder of a guy in camo. Her hope was to blend in, not draw any attention to herself. Listen and learn. That was the mode she was in.

“Alright, listen up. Last night we made positive contact with a lower level associate of Asif Ilyas. Through strong execution of tradecraft we are one step closer to taking down one of the most wanted terrorists. I’ll let Leo Davis up here to talk specifics and next steps.” She listened to the mission recap with full attention and smiling when her background work was highlighted as one of the keys to mission success.

“We’ve now encountered a problem. The associate said that one of Ilyas’ wives might be open for recruitment. She will only meet with another woman, only speaks Arabic and can only meet in the tribal areas.” Clara looked around the room and noticed there was an underwhelming amount of women. She assumed even less than them had the language skills and the defense skills that a remote meeting in a hostile environment would require. 

“I think Clara fits all those requirements.” She froze as her colleague from before spoke up and everyone turned to look at her. “She did the background work on this op anyways so she’s already up to speed. She got a perfect score on the Arabic language test and the guys at the shooting range said she makes it look natural.” Clara felt like shriveling up and dying. While it was true she didn’t want to be the girl behind the computer for her entire career, she didn’t want to be the center of attention either. 

“Is this all true Miss…?”

“Nilsen. And, yes. Sir.”

“Perfect. Problem solved. We start now.”

----

It hurt when she was taken off her desk. Her instincts were telling her to dive into her research and start acquainting herself with the source and what her knowledge pool would be. But her superiors had told her she needed to get better with her self defense and to leave the research to the analysts.

“This is Captain William Miller. He’ll be leading your escort to the tribal regions and his team will be at the ready in case anything goes south.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Ma’am.” She took his hand, which was large and calloused, and took note of his firm grip. 

“You as well.” It was hard to keep eye contact with him. His eyes were blue and his jaw was strong and he was looking at her in a way no one had in a long time.

“I want you to train with him and his men until everything else is in place. He’ll keep me updated on your progress and we won’t send you in until he thinks you’re ready. That clear?”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded once and then turned back the way they had come, leaving them to it.

“How comfortable are you around firearms?” Will asked as he started to lead her towards the range.

“Very. I completed all the operational qualifications prior to my arrival here.” He stopped.

“I didn’t ask how well you scored on the exam.”

“Are you asking me if a gun feels like an extension of myself when I fire it?” She continued to wither under his gaze as he kept silent. “The answer is no. But I’m sure you’re capable of fixing that for me.”

“I can. But I need you to know that me and my team are tired of dealing with CIA dipshits who like to run around a warzone like they own it. You all might be used to playing God but it puts our lives on the line when you do it. I need your assurance you’ll keep both your feet on the ground while we are working together.” 

“You have it,” she whispered after a moment of silence. There was a gentle breeze that wove itself between them as if to capture the agreement they had come to and carry it somewhere they could neve break it. Clara could see in his eyes that he was being serious. That he wanted her to understand that because they wore camo and she didn’t, didn’t mean one was more expendable than the other.

“Good. Then let’s get started.”

----

For the next few days, Will didn’t even let her fire a gun. He had her taking them apart and putting them back together and doing it until her hands were cramped. But she learned quickly. She got faster every time. More nimble. More focused. She ignored him when he tried to talk to her while she was doing it. Ignored his teasing whenever she had a misstep. Didn’t buckle under the pressure when others gathered around to watch. On day four, she finished putting it back together and took a step back from the table.

“I need a quick water break. Then I’ll be back at it,” she said as she waited for his permission to go and sit.

“Fire it.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Test how well you put it together. Fire it at that target,” he was pointing towards a metal circle a couple hundred meters away. Clara picked up the weapon with confidence, squared her shoulders and pulled the trigger. It pinged off the center of the target perfectly. “Again.” She did so until it clicked empty, placing the gun back on the table and looking at Will expectantly.

“Satisfied?” His face didn’t show any signs of emotion as he continued to look at her. 

“Be quick with the water break. Then we go again.” He walked away from her with his usual saunter that annoyed her to no end. He was broad yet so tight and moved with a grace a man of his size should not be able to possess. Clara did not go into her line of work because she was someone who sought praise. She knew that didn’t come with this territory. But there was something about Will that made her want that. She wanted him to tell her she was progressing. Wanted him to tell her she was doing better than he had given her credit for. That, soon, she would be ready.

“Don’t worry. He’s extra stoic when he’s happy.” Gavin, one of the other guys from the team, was popping grapes into his mouth as he strolled over to her with a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” she took it and drank half, “I don’t care. Just as long as I obtain whatever skills needed for him to sign off on me and this op.”

“I’m sure you’re doing fine. And we’ll be with you the whole time. That's more so what his job is about. Can we trust you to have our back? Not drag us into an ambush.”

“Well if that’s the case, I should be allowed back at my desk to do the work. I feel useless out here when I could be back there, knowing my source and understanding their access to the target.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” She turned to see Will had made his way back. He was standing with his hands on his hips, head tilted in disappointment. “You are the target. That’s why you are here learning how to shoot. How to protect and how to kill.”

“I’m not dense, Captain. I understand they’re the enemy and we are on their turf.” She hopes he wasn’t implying that she was losing sight of what she had come there to do. He could never understand her commitment to the cause. The time she had dedicated to be able to stand before him in that moment. To get her shot at doing something meaningful for her country.

“I don’t think you do. I think-” he abruptly shut his mouth and shook his head as if he was trying to get rid of the thoughts that resided in there. “Forget it. Let’s just get back to what we were doing.”

“No. I want to hear what you think.” She didn’t think she’d be able to carry on it if she didn’t. 

“It’s best we just keep things professional from here on out.” 

“Fine.” If she imagined his face on the target for the rest of the day, he didn’t need to know that either.

----

Will was looking at the words on the page but he wasn’t reading them. He was thinking about today. How he had lost his cool, if only for a split second, and how he wishes he could shove his words back into a box and shove them under his cot. He doesn’t know if he meant what he said. Doesn’t know because he didn’t want to know her. He didn’t want to get to know Clara and what drove her to do what she did. What made her wake up in the morning. What had inspired her to learn to pull a trigger with such ferocity. It only made the necessary detachment all the harder.

“You wanna talk about what almost happened today?” Will raised one eyebrow and didn’t spare the soldier a glance.

“Just like you said. Almost happened. Nothing to talk about.”

“The point is for there to be numbness between you two. Nothing. Even animosity has the potential to derail this whole thing.” He dropped his book onto his chest with a sigh. It didn’t look like he could avoid this conversation.

“I don’t want to watch her die.” That shut up his interrupter. The past agents that Will had escorted to the tribal regions hadn’t made it back. They stuck out like sore thumbs and asked hard questions up front and kept twitching their hand towards the gun tucked to their side. He didn’t think he could watch it again. Carry her body back to the airfield and know he failed one more time.

“She’s good, man. Maybe tomorrow you start actually looking at how she’s doing instead of trying to ignore her. Might put your fears at ease.” Will felt his hand hit his shoulder in a comforting slap before he was left alone again with his book and his thoughts.

The next day, he tried his best to stay relaxed and focused while Clara worked her way through the tactical course they all trained on. He watched her find the targets easily and hide from their line of sight like it was second nature. But he still couldn’t let his guard down. Complacency was the real enemy out here and he’d been working double time every day to keep it at bay.

“Good job. You were partially exposed on that last choke point but overall don’t think you would’ve gotten yourself killed.” Clara laughed at the way he formed what she thought was  his version of a compliment. 

“Thanks.” She doesn't know what happened overnight but she was enjoying the new leaf he had turned over. Today he was more vocal. Telling her not only what she was doing wrong but also what she was doing right. He was still a man of mystery but she thinks she had managed to crack him just a little bit. “Are you going to the volleyball game tonight?” she asked after a few moments of silence. She thinks she would have remembered seeing someone as handsome as him at one of the morale events and he didn’t seem like the type but she was going to seize on her opportunity to crack further.

“Wasn’t planning too.”

“Well, you should. It’d be good for you to smile on occasion. Watching these idiots throw themselves around might do that.” He chuckled and looked at her with a smile that melted away all of her confidence.

“You’ll be there?” She hummed affirmatively. “Then save me a seat.” 

[mythrilhusk]

Korosensei Never Dies - Chapter 5

Words: 1689 Ao3 Version Chapter 4 (Last)

Chapter 6 (Next)

AN: This is NOT RPF, this story is based solely on the characters of Dream SMP, not the people playing them.

====

It's a hobby some would call obsessive or even creepy. Wilbur Soot doesn't care what anyone thinks, it's his world and everyone else is just living in it. His pencil scrawls on the page, scratching black onto white.

--Tommy needs encouragement. He's latched onto Philza as a fath- role model worryingly fast. Have I not been enough for him? He told me he wants to kill Technoblade, but I could see the lie in his eyes. He's too kind, and now he's being torn in two directions. Should I ease the strain? Or should I see how long it takes for him to break?--

Wilbur doesn't care what others think of him. His sly gaze flickers from person to person, lingering on the bright ray of sunshine that is Tommy. 

--Tubbo worries me. He's been mostly silent ever since Technoblade showed up. Is he planning something?-- 

--Eret wants to kill Technoblade purely for the money. I saw the way their eyes lit up at the bounty. Which brings to mind another question. Why hasn't anyone outside of this class actually tried to kill Technoblade?--

--Ranboo never lets go of that notebook. I could swear it had a different cover. He's creepy. Avoid him.--

--Quackity has an intense grudge against Technoblade. But he's always with his gang, so I haven't been able to talk to him.--

--Hannah Rose started sparring with Foolish and Charlie last week. She's good. Too good. I don't trust her.--

--I can't get a read on Sapnap. He's always with Quackity, so I never have a chance to have a nice little chat, a good old tete-a-tete.--

--Connor wants to kill Technoblade. Boring.--

--Charlie hasn't shown any bent towards one side or another. He goes around with his saccharine "humour" and fails all his quizzes like he doesn't want Philza to train us. Maybe I should get him expelled.--

--Foolish says strange things. I don't like him.--

Wilbur pauses when he's finished silently dissing all his fellow students. The teachers are next. 

--Ponk just sort of showed up one day and then stayed as the math teacher. His quizzes are so goddamn annoying. He hasn't shown any signs of wanting to kill Technoblade, though.--

--Punz was here for like a day, and then was sent to the hospital as the result of Techno's completely just and righteous defense of Philza. Unknown if he will find the guts to return or not.--

--Philza. Ah, Philza. Mere words can not convey the sheer respect I have for that man's dedication to chaos. Why, just the other day, I saw him feeding birds as they perched on him. He then used them for target practice. Magnificent. If we all endeavor to succeed in our classes, he will teach us how to kill his friend.--

--Technoblade is an enigma. Seriously. Does this mutant man ever sleep? By all accounts, he should be a terrible teacher, yet somehow he finds the time and tenacious willpower to teach all the subjects in a concise and understandable way. Not to mention his casual sprinkling of anarchy propaganda. I wish to know his secrets. I will drag them out of him if need be.--

"Whatcha writing?" Tommy inquires. 

"Nothing!" Grinning innocently, Wilbur snaps his notebook closed. 

"Is it about me? Are you writing how good I am at luv?" 

"No, Tommy." Wilbur ruffles his friend's fluffy hair, ignoring Tommy's complaints. "I'm writing a diary. You can't read it." 

"Fuck off, I'll write my own diary!" 

Wilbur smiles and sits back, listening to Tommy rant. It would be interesting, wouldn't it, to see how he deals with the conundrum of looking up to Philza while being pressured to kill Technoblade. Wilbur can't wait to see him break. 

++++

Badboyhalo paces in the Duckling's treehouse, wincing with every step. Antfrost binds George's wounds. "This has gone too far, Bad!" George complains. 

"Shut up! I know we can think of something!" 

"Our reputation is on the line! If anybody looks even slightly deeper into our pasts, we're all screwed." 

"Shut up!" Bad screeches. "We are Professional Assassins, that's all we ever have been, and nobody is going to question it unless you two screw up again!" 

Antfrost glowers, tightening a bandage on George's arm. "You screwed up, too." 

"How was I supposed to know?? He's a highschool student, a teenager, he shouldn't be good at fighting!!" 

"He's better than us. You think Dream taught him?" George tries to scratch at his bandages, but Antfrost smacks his hand away. 

"I don't know, you muffinheads, but we need to figure something out. Maybe take some martial arts classes." 

"You want us to go back to school??" 

"No! Yes?? Maybe? I don't know." Bad replies miserably. "We've gotta get outta here before Quackity and his gang show up." 

"Too fucking late." Quackity snarls behind Bad, dropping through the window. "Why the fuck didn't your motherfucking special weapons do a single goddamned thing??" 

"Language," Bad mutters half-heartedly. 

"Why the fuck are you buffoons planning to take classes for fighting?? You said you were professionals!!" 

"That is true, we are professionals. But we may have been a teensy bit misleading about our line of work." 

Quackity's scowl darkens and he draws his revolver. "I want blood, Bad. I want your blood so motherfucking badly right now. Fucking tell me the truth." 

Bad raises his hands, heart in his throat. "Wait, wait! I- we're not actually assassins, okay? We're just, uhh, our business is in, uhh-" 

Quackity cocks the gun. His eyes show no hint of mercy. 

"Wait-wait-wait-" Bad cries, trembling. "We're just con-men! It's our business! We go around, telling people we can take care of whatever their problem is, then we take the money and dip! Haha!" 

"We bit off a bit more than we could chew when President Skeppy paid us to help you kill Technoblade." George sighs. "Go ahead and shoot Bad, he's our leader. It was all his idea." 

"N-no!!" Bad screeches, glaring at George. "Don't shoot!! Please!" 

"Fuck you." Quackity flicks open the casing and empties the bullets onto the table. "Fuck you and your motherfucking lies. You don't even have a supplier, do you?" 

"No, we stole the prototype weapons from HBomb's lab!" 

"I'll forgive you on one condition." Quackity gives them a small, hard smile. "Break into the lab and get us actual weapons that'll actually fucking work on Techno. Nothing explosive, just knives and guns."  

"Deal." Antfrost says. "Do we still get a cut?" 

"Ten percent, but that's only if you don't fuck up again." 

"Ten??" Bad cries, forgetting his former fear. "That's only one billion!!" 

"That's about a billion times more than you fucking deserve, so don't test me, assholes."

Bad clenches his fists. Quackity is just a kid. He's just one kid. Bad, Antfrost, and George could easily win. 

But that's what they thought about Ranboo. Bad huffs. "Deal." 

++++

Creeping around in the forest is not exactly what Awesamdude expected his career to lead to. But here he is, laying down a perimeter, alone. 

Not quite alone, however. The two kids stalking him could do with some more practice staying silent. He's already learned their names from their hissing whispers. 

"Niki, Jack, you shouldn't be here." He straightens after planting another post in the ground. 

A girl with violently pink hair drops down from a tree. A boy with clashing heterochromatic sunglasses hops up from behind a stump, brushing the leaves off himself. "How'd you know we were there?" Jack whines. 

"You were hardly quiet." 

"What're you doing?" Niki crosses her arms, scowling. 

"Do you want to die?" Sam asks darkly. He's bluffing, of course. He wouldn't kill innocents. 

"Can you kill people?" Jack asks, excited. 

"I could, if I wanted to." 

"Can you kill Technoblade??" 

"No." 

"Why isn't anyone else trying?" 

"His location was a secret." Sam sighs. "It's not anymore, but I'm going to ensure nobody else interferes." 

"How are kids expected to kill an immortal??" Niki cries. "Why is the bounty so high?? Why is he teaching school instead of rotting in a prison??" 

"Curious, aren't you." Sam scratches his head. "Well, I suppose I can answer the first two. You're not expected to kill him, you're being used to keep him in line. And the bounty is so high because he wanted it that high." 

Niki glares at Sam. Jack's expression is unreadable behind his sunglasses. "Why-"

"Shoo." Sam waves a hand at them. "Go home before I lose my patience." 

The two converse for a moment in hushed whispers. Then, simultaneously, they cry, "Teach us to kill Technoblade!" 

Sam represses a smile. "No." 

"Why not??" 

"Because I have a job to do, and that involves not interfering." 

"Is President Skeppy stalling??" Niki snaps.

"I can't answer that." Sam raises his crossbow upon hearing cautious footsteps sneaking past in the shadows of the trees. Niki and Jack both leap back into cover, but Sam ignores them. "Show yourself, or I put an arrow through your ribs." 

"Please don't." Another teen steps out, raising his hands. The hidden weapons on his person wouldn't be obvious to someone less experienced, but are painfully visible to Sam. 

"What are you doing out here?" 

"I don't know?" The teen replies plaintively. "I was just taking a walk." 

"Hm." Sam lowers the crossbow slightly. He activates the sensors in his false eye with a blink, scanning the teen. The scan glitches and sends a flash of pain through his skull. "Agh!" 

"Are you okay, sir?" The teen steps forward. Warning bells chime in the back of Sam's mind, danger, danger, but Sam ignores them. This is just a kid. He's harmless. 

"I'm fine. You should go home." 

"Oh." The boy lowers his hands and opens the book he was holding. For a moment, Sam's eye glitches again, and the boy's form distorts; scales crawl across the boy's arms, twelve wings fold like fractals- Sam winces at the twinge of pain and the hallucinations fade. "I have a home, now." The boy mutters, and then wanders off. 

Sam sighs and continues his job of setting up a fence around the school building for class 3-E. Niki and Jack have scampered off already. He's alone again.

Chapter 6 (Next)

[yandere-daydreams]

Since requests are open... Awhile back you answered an ask about elected Class Darlings. So could you actually write something for the reader being the Class Darling of Class 1A? And the reader just being so unimpressed by the whole thing.

I’ll never try to write for so many characters at one time again,,, there’s a reason I stick to bottle fics. And for anyone who doesn’t know, this is a little something for the Yandere-verse, where Yanderes make up the majority of the population, and normal people are referred to as ‘Darlings’. Protective, Possessive, Obsessive, etc., are all categories Yanderes are sorted into, depending on their alignment.

TW: De-Humanization and Mentions of Past Abuse, Both Subtle. 

You always felt like you were on display, at times like this.

Sitting on the teacher’s desk at the end of class (Katsuki and Iida would throw a fit if you stood for too long), the other Darlings having already been released back to their dorms, even if a good handful of them waited simply waited outside for their Yanderes. It used to bother you, being in a room alone with more than a dozen violent, trained psychopaths, but after months of simply tolerating the downsides that came with your… position, you’d learned to tolerate the way to their eyes lingered on all the wrong spots, burning holes into your uniform, trying to see which of their classmates had touched you that day.

Who’d they have to target during the next week’s training.

Aizawa’s voice drew you out of your thoughts, low and bored, as tired of this weekly ritual as you were. It was only fair, in his defense. He’d been the Class Darling god knows how many times, something you still overheard the other teachers teasing him for. “Alright, everyone,” He started, already fiddling with his Capture Weapon. “Who’s taking care of (Y/n) over the weekend?”

“Uhm, if I could pick…” Your voice was soft, weaker than you would’ve liked. But, your gaze drifted to Kirishima, the boy perking up like a puppy about to be given a treat. You never liked that, how desperate he seemed to be for your attention. Unfortunately, he was the only one you could really trust enough so sleep next to. “I think I’d like to go with-”

“Todoroki and I can do it!” Izuku interrupted, a giddy, toothy smile plastered across his face. His chair scraped against the floor as he stood up, probably more eager than he should be, sparks of green electricity already buzzing around him, his desk cracking beneath his hands. You flinched back out of reflex, but if Izuku noticed, he didn’t care, addressing Aizawa rather than you. It was something you were used to, but that certainly didn’t mean you enjoyed it. “Please, please? He hasn’t done anything… possessive-y in weeks, and we just got a new pair of handcuffs. They’re quirk-canceling and everything!” He paused, taking a deep breath, looking back to Shoto for encouragement. The boy in question smiled gently, nodding as he rested his chin on his fist, Izuku’s grin only growing wider. “It’ll be really good for us, I prom-”

Before he could finish, an empty soda-can hit Izuku’s forehead, Katsuki throwing the trash over his shoulder as soon as he grew tired of letting his ‘rival’ ramble. “It’s obvious that, if (Y/n)’s spending the weekend with anyone, it’s not going to be any of you dumbasses.” Izuku opened his mouth again, still standing awkwardly, but Katsuki didn’t bother hearing him out, just resting his feet on the desk in front of him as he continued. “We have a test on Monday, and I know none of you fuckers are going to prepare. Besides, isn’t Daddy-Issues over there the reason we don’t have weekly rotations, anymore?”

You cringed, the hand-shaped burn on your back seeming to ache at the slightest mention of Shoto’s ‘incident’. “It was an accident! My room gets really dark, sometimes.”

“Don’t defend him, sweetheart, brutality should be beneath all of us.” It was Momo’s turn now, always so sweet until she didn’t think her lovely, precious pet would fall into her arms. “And, that sounds awfully protective of you, Katsuki. Is there something you want to admit, while we’re all here?”

He let out a growl, finally turning in his seat, clenching his fists, loud cracks and pops echoing throughout the room. “I keep telling you, I’m Possessive and you fucking know it-”

“Don’t you already have Jirou?” Shoto asked, the genuine curiosity in his voice almost catching you off guard. Momo pursed her lips, looking down, searching for an excuse as she picked up where Shoto left off. “I mean, yes, but she needs someone to play with while I’m studying.”

“No, you don’t have Jirou,” Kaminari corrected, making this the first time he’d spoken-up during one of these little ‘sessions’. He threw his hands up, clearly frustrated, as he always was when these ‘class-debates’ took longer than a few minutes. “Me and her are dating, so I don’t see why I should have to sit through this. I’m not some creep who thinks acting like I’m in a relationship will actually make someone love me, which is why I'm the only one here in a mutual relationship.”

At this, everyone paused, the Delusional huffing, smoldering in his seat for a moment before he stormed out of the room with a soft ‘fuck this’. Aizawa was the first to react, pushing himself away from the wall as he came to stand beside you, if only to regain some semblance of order in his classroom. He sent you a sympathetic look, but any kind words lost among the bickering and arguments of his students.

Briefly, you dreaded the grudge that would undoubtedly last until Monday’s class. Then, you remembered you weren’t allowed to do anything too difficult, anymore. 

“Someone step up and give me a good reason, now,” He called, his tone authoritative enough to make you shrink into yourself. “Before I pick a neglectful bastard to expel. You should count yourselves lucky I haven’t made you fight for the Class Darleing, yet.”

Again, arguments were raised, some getting out of their seats only to be stopped by their more level-headed peers, forcing you to flinch a little more with every hostile word, every glare, every shove. In the commotion, no one (save for Aizawa and yourself) noticed when the classroom’s door opened, pink hair and a bright smile peaking into the room, waving to you before pouting at Aizawa, the man relenting as you practically sprinted towards Mina. She was always tricky, like that, leaving a few minutes before class ended, waiting for things to boil over and coming to save you, like your knight in a mini-skirt and hot-pink lipstick.

You took her hand just as the other’s began to realize what was going on, letting her tug you out of the room, kissing your cheek while the two of you began to jog down the halls, attempting to get back to the dorm rooms before someone had a chance to protest. Of course, you weren’t dumb. You caught that familiar, jealous glint in her eye, the way she seemed to take so much joy in your immediate submission, how the acid lingering on her palms stung at your skin to harshly to be subconscious, but… you were well acquainted with pros and cons, at this point.

And Mina was the lesser of many, many evils.

[queenjunoking]

Mistaken Martyr Pt 1 (Extended)

CW: Non-con

Note: The problem with uploading as I write is sometimes I find that I should have combined certain things. In this case the part 2 I was writing really works better as just making part 1 longer, so I combined them and re-posted this. I've taken a new name suggestion for a character to make it easier to read.

Roderick was in the middle of his chores when the door rang. He sighed, he knew Lady Haelyn’s package was coming today. He had just hoped that it would come later in the day so he could finish some chores first.

He hurried and tried to find the front door. Lady Haelyn had just moved into her new home a few days ago, but he had just arrived last night. His had belonged to her parents, but was given to her as a present for finishing her year of probation and becoming a member of the Society.

He had been shipped here from her parent’s house and hadn’t yet gotten used to the layout. He was used to having more help, but so far it was only him. He hoped the new addition would be helpful.

The doorbell rang a third time by the time he remembered how to get back to the main hall. Lady Haelyn would be cross at him for taking so long, but hopefully her new toy would distract her. He made sure his uniform was straight before opening the door.

Two people were waiting on the other side of the door. In the back was a goliath of a man. He stood several heads taller than the other. He knew him by reputation. He went by Saint Skull. He used the odd title of Saint because he believed it “sounded cool” and no one wanted to deny him his title request. The other person was a smaller woman by comparison, but she still stood taller than Roderick. Hunter Artemis. She was the head of the team and the smarter of the two. She was a well known slave scout and the two were a very indemand requisition team.

“Hunter Artemis, Saint Skull.” Roderick bowed to the two before continuing. “Welcome to Lady Armaris’s mansion.

“Time is money.” Artemis was forever impatient. “We got the package in the truck and we were nice enough to make a stop at Samuel’s lab to pick up the toy that Armaris wanted. Where do you want them?”

“If you’ll grab the goods we can take them to the parlor.” Roderick stood to the side and waited for them.

Artemis went into the front seat of their beat up pickup truck and took out a metal suitcase. Skull went to the back and lifted out a crate. Roderick wasn’t surprised the musclehead didn’t need any help with it. He beckoned them to follow him through the house.

He glanced at the hallway as they walked. This mansion was about the same size as her parent’s, but they had other family members and slaves living there. Right now it was just Haelyn and himself and it made the place feel uncomfortably empty. There were enough rooms here for a few families to live here.

He would never speak negatively about Haelyn, not out loud at least, but he didn’t think she could really appreciate the level of luxury in the house. This place was an architectural wonder and I doubt she paid attention to more interesting parts of the house.

“You can place them on the floor here.” Roderick motioned to the open space in front of the couch. Skull grunted and placed the crate on the floor.

“Swanky place, jeeves.” Skull turned to him and smiled. Roderick did his best to ignore him.

Artemis sat down in one of the chairs, setting the briefcase down next to her. “I’m guessing Haelyn’s parents bought it for her?”

“A gift for passing her probation.” Roderick clarified. “If you two will wait here, I will fetch Lady Haelyn.”

Artemis waved him away and he made his way back to the main hall. Unfortunately there was nothing set up here yet to alert him to when he was needed, the intercom system wouldn’t be online until tomorrow. He had been carrying a walkie-talkie, but Armaris had a habit of putting it down and forgetting where she left it.

He had an idea of where Armaris was though. She had been “redecorating” a room on the third floor earlier and it wouldn’t surprise him if she was still there.

{&}

Haelyn took aim at the case and fired. She watched it explode when the paintball made contact, the sound of it shattering was so satisfying. The previous owner of the mansion had forgotten a few boxes of antique vases. Haelyn of course took this to mean that she could do with them as she liked.

Which meant she used them as targets.

She reached into the box closest to her, then frowned. It was empty. She checked all the boxes and found them all empty. She sighed, she had exhausted her targets and still had paintballs left.

She looked up and smiled at the carnage. There were stray splotches of paint on the walls and ceiling in a rainbow of colors. There were a few stray paintings that had been left on the walls that had been repainted. Haelyn couldn’t help but feel that her art probably showed up whoever painted the boring images that had drowned in seas of pinks, reds, greens, and blues.

Someone knocked on the door and she fired a few rounds into it. After a few seconds later Roderick opened the door and looked inside. He looked at the destruction around the room before turning to Haelyn.

“Lady Haelyn.” He gave a quick bow.

“What is it?” She aimed the paintball gun at him. He recognized the look she was giving him. She was upset about being interrupted. He hoped his news would distract her, removing paint from his clothes would be a pain.

“Your presents have arrived. Hunter Artemis and Saint Skull are waiting in the parlor on the firs-.” Haelyn quickly pushed her way past him before he could finish and hurried down the hall.

She was excited. On top of her new house and getting to bring Roderick with her, her parents paid for the capture of anyone she wanted. She had picked out a lovely little number she had seen at a cafe. Maria. She had been small, meek, and quite pretty. The perfect maid that she knew others would be jealous of and wouldn’t cause her any trouble. She probably wouldn’t need to be broken in any significant way which would be great. Haelyn hated slaves that were little more than robots.

Haelyn quickly escaped from Roderick’s sight as she slid down the bannister. She could have taken the elevator, but she was in a hurry. She ran into the parlor and saw Artemis sitting in a chair next to the crate and Skull looking out the window.

“Open it!” She shouted and slammed her hands onto the crate. She was excited and refused to wait any longer to exchange pleasantries.

Artemis didn’t react to Haelyn’s rudeness, she just turned to Skull and nodded. “Skull, the crate.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled and produced a crowbar and started to open the crate. He quickly popped the top off and moved it off to the side.

Haelyn quickly peeked inside with a wide grin on her face. This was her first slave. The first that was really hers. She didn’t count Roderick, he belonged to her parents. She threw off the covering on the inside so she could see Maria. She hadn’t even thought of the name she’d be calling her yet, but she’d have time.

Her grin quickly vanished when she looked at the figure inside.

“This isn’t Maria.”

{&}

“How! Did! You! Mess! This! Up!” Haelyn punctuated every word by shooting Skull with a paintball.

“Ow! Fucking quit it!” Skull yelled as he tried to snatch the paintball gun out of Haelyn’s hand. She deftly dodged out of the way and shot him again.

“Haelyn, may I see that?” Artemis looked over at her and held out her hand. With a pout, Haelyn handed it over.

She looked it over and aimed it at Skull, firing off a few more rounds.

“Fuck! Stop!” Skull yelled, red in the face.

“Haelyn asked a very good question Skull, how did you fuck this up?” Artemis’s voice didn’t change much, but everyone in the room could hear the frustration under it. “I thought I could leave you to do the capture on your own while I went to Samuel’s lab. So how did you get the wrong person?”

“I followed the instructions to the T! She was at the house. She was last seen wearing red. She’s got blue eyes. She’s small. That’s the description I got! No one gave me a photo!” Skull obstinately crossed his arms.

Everyone in the room looked into the crate. The woman inside was wearing a green shirt. Artemis pried open the woman’s eyes and saw she had green eyes. Artemis fired the paintball gun at Skull again.

“Hey!”

“This girl is not wearing red. Her eyes are not blue. And this woman is probably around six foot. Do any of these descriptions sound like the target?” Artemis asked as she sat back down.

“She is short!” Skull protested.

“Everyone is short next to you, you moron! You’re like six foot 9! I’m surprised you can fit into any doorway!” Haelyn yelled before turning to Artemis. “Is he colorblind?”

“Apparently so.” She sighed and handed the paintball gun back to Haelyn. “Skull, we’ve been friends for a while. Why did you not tell me you were colorblind?”

“It never came up! What was I supposed to say? ‘Artemis, I’m colorblind?’” He paused for a second and looked thoughtful. “I supposed I could have said that.”

“Yes, you could have. Haelyn?” She looked over at Haelyn and she shot him with the paintball gun.

“Christ! What do you want me to do about it now? She’s already here? You want me to just put her back or something?” Skull asked the question most of the people in the room were thinking.

This woman couldn’t be set free, she was taken by the Society. She also wasn’t the person that Haelyn had paid for. No one in the room was aware of who she might be, she could be a friend or a family member of the target. For all they knew Skull had kidnapped someone who had broken into Maria’s house.

It didn’t matter who she was, she had already been taken. They couldn’t just drop her off on the side of the road, they had to do something with her.

Eventually Artemis turned to Haelyn and spoke. “You like games, don’t you?”

“Yeah? What of it?” Haelyn narrowed her eyes at Artemis.

She decided she had to tread carefully. Haelyn was upset, but there was a possibility of salvaging this situation. “My reputation means a lot to me and I’m sure you know how much a bad review from you could damage it.”

“As it should.” Haelyn crossed her arms and stared at Artemis.

“As it should.” Artemis sighed in agreement. “But, perhaps we can come to an agreement that’ll make everyone here happy.”

“What kind of agreement?” Haelyn answered hesitantly.

“I have an idea for a fun game you could play and, if you like my idea, I’m sure we can find a compromise between what we both want.”

Haelyn looked her up and down, taking a moment to think before she answered. She knew Artemis was just trying to get out of this without taking a hit. But she was also curious about what the game was.

“I’m listening.”

[rileywrites]

If you’re still doing prompts, this is from your prompt list in the random section — nos. 4 or 14, or from the fluff section, no. 12, in yet another of my reluctantly shipped ships, the Book of Nile. *sigh* (I have fulfilled the requirement of the manifesto) 😆

I wanted to give you options just in case someone already asked for any one of these!

Or, if you want, you could go for my original prompt, which would be: Nile has now learned Italian, Ancient Greek, Modern Greek, perfected her Arabic, etc. When Booker returns to the fold, Nile asks him to teach her French, (which Andy, Joe, and Nicky always said would be his job when he came back) but he basically gives her the “Ask your mother” “Ask your father” treatment, passing the responsibility like a hot potato between the other members of the Guard. After some time has passed, Nile catches him quietly singing songs in his old dialect of French, and oddly, only when the two of them are alone in a room. Since his old dialect has basically died out, she can’t exactly google translate. But she begins to suspect something’s up when Quynh stops dead in her tracks after she walks in on Booker singing something while making breakfast, as Nile sits at the table, enjoying everything, which leads to Quynh disappearing, and quiet laughter coming from the bedrooms. After a confrontation, he admits he didn’t want to teach her French, at least not for a while, because he wanted to have the ability to tell her how he feels about her through singing ancient French love songs, without her knowing, promising himself he’d teach her his language, when or if the day ever came that he could tell her in words.

I’m so sorry it’s a bit long, but this just popped in my head, and I know you’ll do wonders with this, if you decide to do it. No hard feelings at all if you don’t!

Thank you so much, you’re an amazing writer, you capture the voices of the TOG characters so well — I always smile when I see your name pop up with a new BoN story on AO3!

Thank you for this wonderful prompt, darling! I have absolutely run with it. I will write the snippet prompts eventually, but this one grabbed me by the throat.

Read on Ao3 Here.

...

After fifteen years with the Guard, Nile has a pretty good handle on just about any language you could think of.

Nile can give a eulogy in Spanish, ask for directions in Pashto, negotiate a weapons deal in Russian, woo a honeypot target in Italian, con a businessman in Greek, and navigate trade in Arabic. She can read, write, and speak Ancient Greek (circa Nicky and Joe's era) and is passable in several dead languages from the Steppe and Southern Asia. She's decent at Mandarin, getting pretty fucking good at Vietnamese, and doing her damnedest to learn Hindi. (It's  a struggle.)

The one language she hasn't picked up yet is French.

It isn't for lack of trying. Her grasp at French is enough to not get her killed, but most of her practice has been with Quebecois or the dialects spoken in Morocco. Basically, if she spoke French in France, they would laugh at her, and her comprehension isn't great

"When Booker comes back, he'll teach you," Andy promises. "He has the most modern French between the five of us. It will do you better to learn from him."

"That doesn't do me any good in the interim," Nile points out.

"He'll be back any day now," Andy says. "Trust me, he'll crack soon."

...

Nile gets to their most recent safehouse late after a long night of schmoozing. She hates long cons, hates that some of humanity's evil can only be taken down with espionage and not brute force.

Her feet are killing her. These sky high boots make her ass look amazing, but her leg muscles regret every life choice she's ever made.

The TV is on, even though Joe and Nicky are supposed to be on recon. With Andy and Quyhn in Istanbul following a lead (to keep a grouchy Andy off of desk duty for a weekend), Nile's senses are on high alert.

She enters carefully, gun drawn.

"Don't shoot," Booker says, hands up. He smiles slightly. "I would have messaged, but I don't have your latest code."

"I still have the Nokia you gave me," Nile points out. "Andy could have told you that."

"Maybe I wanted to surprise you."

"You definitely have too much of a death wish for someone who can't die."

Booker doesn't have a comeback for that. Nile holsters her gun.

"Hug me, you sneaky bastard. It's been literal years."

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He crosses the room in two strides and steps into her waiting arms.

When they collide, it knocks the wind out of Nile's lungs. Breathing is irrelevant anyway, when she's in Booker's arms.

"I missed you, asshole," Nile says into his shoulder, probably getting makeup on his dumb denim shirt.

"I missed you too. I'm sorry that I did not visit sooner." Booker rubs one massive hand over her back. "Your feet probably hurt. I should let you get changed."

"One more minute."

Later, when Nile has had time to change into an oversized t-shirt and Nike shorts, her wig back on its mannequin head, Nile sits down with her feet in Booker's lap and grills him for information.

"I got sober about five years ago." Booker rubs her feet without hesitation, well-trained from centuries with Andy. "I haven't had a drop since."

Nile nudges his chest with the foot he isn't massaging.

"I'm proud of you. It can't have been easy."

"It wasn't." Booker bats her foot away. "It was worth it, though. You deserve a better teammate - you all do. Besides, I don't need to spend the rest of my immortality intoxicated. Six thousand years is a long time to be drunk."

"So what have you been doing since?"

"I spent a lot of time Journaling, processing my emotions. I worked in several literacy programs across the world, staying long enough to help but not too long." Booker shrugs. "Safer that way, I guess."

"Did you bring me pictures?"

"Of course. I have no clue how you keep finding film for Polaroid knockoffs though. It's twenty-thirty-five."

"I have my ways." Nile makes grabby hands in his direction. "Pictures. Please tell me there's pictures of you holding cute children you're teaching to read."

"Of course there is." Booker finds the envelope in his bag, careful not to dislodge her.

The tiny gesture is so fucking heartwarming it hurts.

"I have training in literacy coaching in English and French, so I've worked just about everywhere."

The photos are fucking adorable. Nile flips through them with glee, enjoying the tiny humans and huge Booker sharing textbooks and screens. One little girl in particular pops up in several.

"That's Adelaide," Booker says when Nile holds one up. "I stayed in Port Au Prince for almost a solid year, because I couldn't bear being another to abandon them. When she was adopted by a family in the church, I decided it was time for me to come home myself."

"That reminds me. You're back, which means I finally get to learn proper French."

Booker hesitates.

"Come on, Book, I know you have the qualifications." Nile retrieves her feet so she can kneel by his side on the couch. "You promised. Andy promised. No one else will teach me."

"Nicky hates French," Booker points out.

"I know, and everyone else is too stubborn. They all want you to teach me." Nile fidgets with his rolled-up sleeve. "I want you to teach me."

One good bat of her eyelashes later, and Booker finally agrees.

"Fine, fine, I will teach you French."

"Yes!"

"Eventually. For now, you need rest. Andy will insist on a stupidly early call tomorrow."

...

Six months later, and Booker hasn't said three words to Nile in French. He uses it on jobs, with Joe and Andy, when he talks to himself, but not with her.

They end up in Calais for three days, longer than expected, and Nile bugs him to go out with her.

"Come on, you can teach me in the field. I can practice." Nile pokes him in the arm. "You can laugh at my shitty attempts to use your language, and then you can correct me. Fun and educational!"

"I have too much to do, Nile. I have to make sure this program runs properly, or else we can't get on that plane." Booker waves her off. "Go read something. We have more books than sense here."

"That's not hard, when you're dumb." It's petty, infantile, but it gets Booker to smile and that's enough. "Fine. Don't think it's the end of this, though. You promised to teach me."

"I know, ma cherie, and I will. But for now, entertain yourself."

Nile grumbles. "I am forty-one years old. Don't act like I'm a child."

"I know you aren't a child. However, you are being a brat, so shoo."

"Asshole."

Nile pokes through the books in Booker's latest pile and fishes out something newer and trashy. Brainless. It'll do.

(And if she gets him to throw couch pillows at her by doing dramatic readings of the worst bits, all the better.)

...

Booker has been back in the fold for almost a year.

"Booker, you promised."

A year, and Nile is still just as shit with French - except for the curse words. She knows a whole stable of curse words now.

"Ask Andy."

Nile huffs. "I've been asking Andy for almost sixteen years, Booker. She says you'd be the best one to teach me."

"I don't know about that," Booker says, frowning.

"You're the French one."

"They've spoken French since it was invented."

Nile sighs. "Forget it. I'm going for a run."

She slides her ancient Nokia into her armband and pulls on her sneakers. A run will clear her head.

He doesn't say anything when she leaves. Nile tries not to take it personally.

They're in Istanbul, following up on the lead Andy and Quyhn have been chasing down. They're going to the Hippodrome in the morning, but for now, Nile has the evening to herself.

Why does this whole French thing piss her off so much?

(Nile isn't an idiot. She knows why.)

Maybe she'd be less irritated if he hadn't started singing recently.

It's nothing too obvious, just little snippets of old-sounding songs in a version of French that is either impossible for her to spell, too old for Google Translate, or both.

Nile turns a corner, mentally marking her distance as her feet hit the pavement.

Maybe she wouldn't care as much if Booker sang when the others were around, but he doesn't. It's just when it's the two of them.

Booker is asleep in the armchair by the time Nile gets back. She pokes and prods at him until he's awake enough to shuffle back to the bedroom.

"We've got a long day tomorrow." Nile shakes him gently. "Don't fall asleep in your boots."

"M'good," Booker says, then mumbles something incomprehensible in French.

"Goodnight, Booker."

"Bonne nuit, ma cherie," Booker says.

Nile can figure that much out.

...

The next morning, Nile wakes to singing and the smell of breakfast. She pulls on a hoodie and shuffles out of her room, scarf still on because fuck it.

"G'morning," she says, muffled by a yawn. "Coffee?"

Booker pours her a cup as she sits at the table. Before she's done with the coffee, an omelet appears before her.

"You are the fucking best." Nile digs in, content to enjoy the moment.

Good food, good company, and surprisingly good singing.

Nile is halfway through her omelet, Booker still be-bopping around the kitchen singing, when Quyhn and Andy get in from their morning run.

Both freeze in the doorway before Booker can notice, but Nile watches their minds race.

"Good morning," Nile says.

Quyhn whispers something in Andy's ear, and they walk quickly back to their bedroom.

Booker seems to realize they're there about the moment quiet giggling comes down the halls.

Nile didn't realize Andy could do anything other than chuckle gruffly these days.

Booker blushes bright red and his eyes go wide.

"Booker, your breakfast," Nile points out before it can burn.

"Fuck." Booker rescues his omelet. "I should go talk to them."

Nile stands, hemming him into the kitchen.

"Why are they giggling, Book?"

Booker refuses to make eye contact, but Nile doesn't back down.

She's been a mercenary for a decade and a half. She's faced down gangsters and serial killers and oligarchs. She can handle pinning Booker down with a glare.

"They, ah..." Booker rubs the back of his neck. "They speak French?"

"I know they speak French. Why were they giggling?"

Booker finally makes eye contact.

"They're love songs, Nile. I've been... I've been singing sappy shit from my youth, because I knew you wouldn't understand."

"That's why you wouldn't teach me."

It isn't a question, but Booker nods anyway.

"I was scared," he finally admits. "Scared for you to know."

Nile wants to say something meaningful. Wants to sweep him off his feet, wants to kiss him stupid, wants everything in the world.

Instead, she steps back.

"We have a job to do. Tonight, if you want to, if you're ready, I want you to translate your songs for me. Then we can talk, yeah?"

"I-" Booker nods. "Yeah. Yeah, that works for me."

She turns on her heel to go get ready for the day, leaving Booker in the kitchen staring after her, baffled.

...

Later, blood and mud spattered and healing from a sizeable fall from a horse, Nile limps into her bedroom. She manages to get most of her layers off and into a basket to see if they can be salvaged, but her ribs are still healing so bending too much is out of the question.

Getting her bra off is an Olympic event.

Booker doesn't knock until after she's showered.

"Come in."

"I brought you... well, the translations." Booker holds out a new-feeling leather journal. "I wrote down all the ones I could think of. You can read them, and I'll just-"

"Sit," Nile says before he can escape. "Please, stay."

Nile reads, connecting words to tunes he's been singing for weeks.

They're sappy, fond, romantic, saucy. Nile enjoys peeking up at Booker to see him blush almost as much as the love confession she's holding in her hands.

When she reaches the end of the lyrics, Nile crosses the tiny bedroom and looks Booker in the eyes.

"Booker?"

"Yes?"

"Are you ready to teach me French?"

Booker nods, blushing. "If you would like, ma cherie."

Nile finally kisses him. "I would like that very much."

[thejudgingtrash]

Now hold up I would personally love to hear a full rant on this supposed adaptation I have never heard of until now. Like, legitimately, I wanna know what you have to say about this cause you seem to be one of the most valid PJO blogs

Uhhh what??? Me one of the most valid PJO blogs??? What kinda crack have you been smoking WHAT afahsgjskdh.

But still thank you 😊🥺🙈

Alright, you wanted a rant. You got a rant. Fuck the positives let’s just straight up jump into my aggression.

WARNING: Massive rant with a lot of swear words. If you can’t handle the heat, feel free to ignore this. I personally haven’t worked in Hollyweird, but I had some behind the scenes stuff here in Europe going on for a short period and also the trusty words of my college professors. So here will be a lot of prediction and speculation involved. Yes, I know that I’m a huge hypocrite for voicing my opinions based on stuff that hasn’t been pushed through in months and that I could be easily proven wrong in a few weeks/months. Still thank you should you actually take the time to read through this tomfuckery.

If things are wrong, please DO correct me!

Links to further reads will be included partially.

TL;DR: Keep your hopes to a low, stop harassing people online and mAnAgE yOuR eXpEcTaTiOnS!!111!!

Okay. First things first:

DISNEY

DOESN’T

GIVE

A

SINGLE

FUCK

ABOUT

YOU

Disney is a fucking multi-billion dollar corporation with many, many, many studios, stations, brands and franchises worldwide. The Percy Jackson franchise is a dime in a dozen. Disney doesn’t give a single fuck about the PJO fandom in general.

Disney doesn’t give a fuck about you 20-something year old with your 9 year old blog discussing which toilet paper brand Percy uses. And Disney also doesn’t give a fuck about you 16 year old, writing the worst fucking Solangelo fanfic I’ve read so far on this hellsite. Like goddamn.

Trust me, they know you are interested. They know they got you hooked. They see the numbers, they see the like/reblog ratio, they see the Twitter engagement. They see you with #disneyadaptpercyjackson. They see the petitions, they see how excited you were for the musical. You don’t get to be a gigantic conglomerate like Disney with playing stupid.

Also to you fuckfarts saying oH nO I wOn’T wAtCh It I dOn’T cArE aBoUt NeW sTuFf. Congrats dipshit. You are STILL alerting followers and people about what’s happening and creating more buzz, giving more awareness and adding to the transaction costs. You really cheated the system, you little edgelord. Again:

You are nothing but a number. You are a fucking walking dollar bill. You are a consumer waiting for a new shiny product to fill the void in your life for 45 minutes weekly or by two hours at some point.

The PJO movies 1. & 2 happened for a reason. Because Fox saw a popular book series á la Harry Potter, Twilight (and The Hunger Games) and wanted a piece of that action. They wanted your fucking money. Them entirely fucking up and ignoring Riordan’s advice is on them of course. But still. The movies happened. (And also saw people saying they were flops. Reception wise: hell yes. They are awful adaptations (not per se awful movies, there’s a difference). But money wise?? They made together over 245 million dollars in profit. Of course, that isn’t today’s Marvel level but it’s still fairly decent. Also don’t forget that the second movie still got greenlit. Interest was still there despite part one. You disliking something doesn’t turn it into a flop)).

Again, Disney doesn’t care about you. THIS is what Disney cares about:

1. MONEY

2. PROFIT

3. ENGAGEMENT

4. TOTAL GROSS

5. CONVERSION RATES

11. …. “Artistry“

So in terms of money, we gotta speak about the on-going woke culture. You know, lgbtqia+ stuff, poc representation and all the good shit we want and need in our life, right?

Well, I got bad news for ya. Disney being money hungry has its massive downsides. Because where is the money? In the east. Well and what happens if we include the woke stuff? Possible censorships (even retroactively! You know Gravity Falls went through that), bans, etc.

So all of you talking about representation and artistic vision and being bold and brave and blablabla… Throw that into the fucking trash. We can probably be glad if we get Grover back as the token black kid and a few other minorities sprinkled here and there. Open gay Nico? Doubt it. Your afro-latino Percy head canon? Definitely keep that but unlikely to be realized. And also, if you think that Annabeth wouldn’t get turned into the blandest whitest “I dOn’T nEeD nO mAn“ radfem, I got some bad news for ya…

The likelihood of everything being dumbed down, toned down with the exception of a few adult jokes or being even partially censored (depending on certain regions) is very, very high.

Also what makes you think we’re even getting close to the Heroes of Olympus and Trials of Apollo saga? I doubt you will see The Seven for a long time unless Riordan really says fuck it and throws his final ace card into Disney’s filthy greedy mouth.

So if Disney doesn’t have the fandom’s interest at heart, what are they interested in? Well… MONEY. Also NEW engagement. They know your funky ass is going to tune in. They know people will pirate the shit (Me waving like a maniac), they all KNOW that. Again, they aren’t stupid.

So: MORE engagement. MORE money. How do we get even more engagement? By luring new people into the fandom. Who is most likely going to get lured into a family friendly show/movie series because let’s not forget that we’re talking about Disney+? The targeted audience of the books. Who is the targeted audience of the books? MIDDLE SCHOOLERS. 11 to 14 year olds. Disney wants those kids’ (well their parents’ hard earned) money. They want to sell products, in that case books + Disney Plus subscriptions + possible merch. There you also have the likely future rating for the fucking show. Sorry to disappoint everyone that was hoping for gritty Game of Thrones filled with 12 year olds (like seriously wtf?).

Now that that’s settled, let’s talk about the outlook on the show/movie and Riordan’s influence that you people clearly overestimate.

How much power or say does Rick Riordan actually have?

ZERO. ABSOLUTELY NONE.

He’s in the worst fucking lose-lose-situation you could imagine.

Disney owns the books and Fox owns the movie rights. Wait. Fox got bought. By whom you ask? DISNEY, what a coincidence! In Rick Riordan’s own words:

Disney has him by his fucking balls and could crush them at any minute. And if you think, that Disney is letting go of that sweet sweet intellectual property you are fucking mistaken. Riordan isn’t a J.K. Rowling who OWNS the Wizarding World. You have no idea what Disney are capable of with massive lobbying that goes so far to influence copyright laws in the States (LINK)

So you can stop harassing him about a fucking Netflix adaptation as well! Or petitions that do nothing but annoy people.

These negotiations take up YEARS to get the simplest stuff done. No need to shit your pants whenever Riordan’s tweeting stuff.

Still: would Disney be fucking mad to do this without him? Absolutely!

Should Disney involve him to prevent a PJO movie 2.0 scenario?

Yes, they definitely should!

But CAN Disney do this without him?

OF COURSE THEY CAN! THEY OWN EVERYTHING.

In Riordan’s own words:

Read carefully what he has written. He doesn’t say he’s going to halter productions, he’s saying HE WON’T BE A PART OF IT. This also makes me curious about WHO approached WHO in the first place (my guess Disney tried to make some amendments because Fox ain’t shit and trying to alienate the author again would be a goddamn stupid move). Disney has the fucking film rights. Of course they can pump out shit without involving him. They could pull a Fantastic Four (the awful 2015 version) just to keep the rights and for the fuck of it.

There are the following possibilities with Riordan’s involvement:

1. Riordan as a producer: Dude’s gotta be loaded. We know that. But backing the production costs many, many, many millions and I don’t know if he’s THAT loaded. Also film producing isn’t his forte.

2. Riordan as a screenplay writer: Now we’re getting closer to something. Yes, many productions these days have authors directly involved which is great! But also can go the other way around (J.K. Rowling and her Grindelwald fiasco. Author’s do NEED to learn when to stop intermeddling with their franchises, just saying) Book writing and screenplay writing are two very DIFFERENT disciplines. You don’t have the liberties of book writing when it comes to film. The screenplay is the guide for the entire production, the visuals, the set design, the whole atmosphere of the product, the very first thing that needs to be done so that directors, designers and lastly the casted actors know what they have to do. Everything has to come to a point in a very short time and there are many, many, many versions of a screenplay before a final raw draft gets handed out. If that isn’t in Riordan’s interest (which I can completely understand) then that’s simply not happening

3. Riordan as a guide: Directors, screenplay writers, etc. sit down with Riordan on a regular basis to show him the written screenplay, which actors they have in mind, the whole vision and he has a mini veto right.

If you ask me, a mix of scenario 2 and 3 is the most likely to be the most successful. That means, that Riordan needs to have a good faithful team, that sticks closely to the source material. That isn’t guaranteed! Again: look at the PJO movies. But of course, we don’t know the internals of these meetings.

So… now the final part. The whole fucking “Animation vs. Live action“ debate. Well, both sides have their pro’s and con’s. And both sides are filled with a bunch of fucking morons. I won’t try to get you to either side.

But to those that want are begging for a live action version with age-appropriate actors I have the following to say:

FUCK

YOU

IN

PARTICULAR!

WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU WANT CHILDREN TO GO THROUGH THE HELL THAT IS DISNEY AND THE SHADY SHIT GOING ON THERE SO THAT YOU CAN BE ENTERTAINED FOR SOME MERE MINUTES?!

Oh my god…. You people REALLY really want a fourth wave Me Too movement in 15-20 years. Not every Hollyweird kid has a helicopter parent hovering around them on set and many do get abused/robbed by their parents. And the people involved in the production! Of course, animation has still a chance of this happening but the risk is somewhat lower when it just comes to voice acting.

Tbh, I actually wouldn’t mind an aged-up cast again just to prevent this as best as possible. Unfortunately, child actors will always be needed.

I have nothing much to add to this, I’ll just drop a link to an old small post from me about that right here (LINK)

Personally I lean more towards animation but in the big picture I won’t care. (Also the whole animation is for kids and dumbs down the whole narrative for PJO is fucking stupid, boo boo the fool. You being in your late teens/twenties and grown out of the targeted audience is the cause of nature. Animation can be mature or would you show Attack on Titan or South Park to your 8 year old cousin?)

I’ll be just tuning in to see if this is as messy as I’d expect it to be or to be pleasantly surprised.

Also again: this process is a long one. It’s going to be exhausting, depressing, demanding, pushing.

From the meetings now that will take a very long time, to a screenplay, which can take YEARS in finalizing, to hiring staff, location hunting and set design (should they go the live action route), to casting, to costume design, to rehearsing/production, to filming, to dispersing, to editing, to fx, to finishing, to marketing, to publishing, NOTHING IS SET IN STONE! This is a very, very, very, wanky process despite contracts and everything on paper. Let’s not forget, Disney can afford some good lawyers.

And even if everything goes as smoothly as possible. Higher up people could see the final edit of everything with editors having scenes close to the books in an a/b/c/d cut and some producer says NO! I want an c/a/b/d version that again fucks up the dynamics of the books. Or something terrible: everything is shot and done and THEN it get’s postponed. Or even fucking worse: SHELVED to be NEVER RELEASED. Aka Henry Selick’s career after Coraline (Coraline from 2009 is STILL his latest release because of his fucked up Disney contract and them cancelling his shit). Millions of dollars wasted and we won’t get to see ANYTHING. This is all very possible and happens constantly in the film business AND at Disney. This is nothing new.

And there’s nothing we can do about it. No one cares about Riordan, no one cares about the books, no one cares about the fandom.

DISNEY holds the cards. DISNEY gets to decide. Neither Riordan, nor you nor me hold ANY power in this.

So kids… what have we learned today? In conclusion:

Keep your hopes to a low, stop harassing people online and mAnAgE yOuR eXpEcTaTiOnS!!111!!

That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say.

WHEW.

[wetislandinthenorthatlantic]

2021 / Week 5 Recap

Hello peeps! I’m back — finally

Since My Last Post: Suddenly it feels like Spring is right around the corner - the Hellebores are up in the garden, while the village churchyard is full of Snowdrops and Crocus. Here in my part of the UK, the ground is well and truly muddy due to all of the Lockdown Walkers.  The sun has been making a few appearances which have been much appreciated. (*I wrote this on Sunday -- we now have a dusting of snow on the ground and freezing temps!) 

My daily writing habit is still intact! 

Last Week: Hooray! ‘Just Like Old Times’ (the ‘fake date’ espionage fic) has been finished, beta-ed and posted. The requester did something which as a fanfic writer I love- commenting on every chapter as they read it. This is one of the magical things about fanfic — we can easily find out from readers how much they are enjoying what we produce. 

My Cyberpunk Sleeping Beauty is coming along very nicely but I haven’t hit the spot when I can see the form under the SFD (shitty first draft). I will keep persevering — it is there.

For this story I am trying something completely new to me — writing by the numbers. While I need to retell a fairytale, I also need to write a good story so I am using the Hero’s Journey as my spine. I’ve taken the target word count, split out focus points, then assigned each section a word count. I plugged this all into Scrivener and away I go.

Pro: I love not having to think first thing in the morning when I sit down to write. And the chunks are all of reasonable length - 300-500 words, which is an easy ask. My brain doesn’t need to churn  as all of the thinking has already been done.

Con: Why did I think I could write 300 words about looking at server error logs? Although the word count is low, occasionally it still seems high for the content of the scene.

FanFic - Valentine’s Day had slipped my mind — and I really should do my February posting on that day. I am busy digging through my hoard of half-finished-mostly-neglected pieces to see if there is something suitable. Egged on by the other writers in my writing group I might post another chapter of Next Time. A little sex on Valentines Day is never a bad thing.

Next Up:  Writing: Cyberpunk Sleeping Beauty - keep working! Writing: Chapter 2 of Next Time / or some other Valentine thing

Editing: ‘Want of a Wife’ - the mail-order-bride request from @flabbergastedenough  It was 80% completed in NaNoWriMo 2020 - now it’s time to get back to it for completion. 

What I’m reading: Finished: Syllabus by Lynda Barry — This fun, wild, graphic journal is all about how to cultivate creativity.  Highly recommend. 

Wintering by Katherine May — A very interesting view of the restorative power of rest. It started well, but then went downhill. Would not recommend. 

In the middle: As She Climbed Across The Table  by Jonathan Lethem — SciFi love story, in which a woman falls out of love with a man and in love with a black hole. Yes, Really.

Agent Sonya by Ben Macintyre — A true story about a deep cover KGB agent who lived in Cornwall and was the typical housewife next door. 

Goal is to finish the half read books!

Have a great week everyone, until next time! If you have any questions or prompts leave a comment or feel free to DM me.

[shijiujun]

[ENG] History3: Trapped Novel - Epilogue Two: “And After, Jack & Zhao Zi”

~2,500 words 

*Warnings for this chapter: SMUT AHEAD. Okay I think I’ve said a lot regarding the ridiculous-ness of this chapter, but honestly, I wouldn’t recommend reading this chapter AT ALL. Zhao Zi and Shao Fei are a little OOC in this one I feel, and there are so many logical loopholes. It starts off well and we get some Jack backstory which is quite nice, but then it all goes downhill from there. There’s the who tops who bottoms discourse, and there’s kind of.. questionable consent? Not exactly dub-con but ZZ is drunk as hell. And the sex scene is NOT written well, but I mean to be fair not every writer can write smut, including me. Translation is even worse I’m so sorry. You’ll know what I mean if you read it but I hope you don’t read this, in case anyone needed the warnings. Comments? 

===

Translation Masterpost can be found here

Disclaimer: Translations are entirely mine and Wei’s - these are not official translations and some phrases have been changed for better English interpretation so you’ll definitely see better/different translations elsewhere. Also keeping in mind when we translated this we aren’t exactly thinking about the style of writing and this translation is as close to the novel as we can make it XD So yes, some parts may be a little awkward to read. And yes some teeny weeny details and words may not turn up in the translation because the Chi to Eng mind acrobatics didn’t work out. If you see asterisks, scroll all the way to the bottom for notes!

Full chapter under the cut

Epilogue Two: “And After, Jack & Zhao Zi”

Jack is lying on the couch, waiting for his lover who hasn’t returned home even though it’s so late after 10pm. However, Jack is also accustomed to waiting up for Zhao Zi.

In the army, the strict regimen of training gave him unimaginable skills. Put nicely, it was to protect the country and its citizens, but put in perspective, he was simply a killing machine trained for a long time under the army. Under his commander’s order he had to kill, the only difference is that when you do it in the name of your country, it’s not considered illegal, but in the end, he was still a machine that simply listened to orders. To live or to die, to be valued or cast aside, this was all dependent on your superiors, and you also had to watch out for what they thought of you.

“How boring,” the man lying on the couch remarked, thinking about his past.

Since he was going to kill anyway, why not let him choose his target? And that was how he left the army and chose the high-risk career path of a mercenary, to be hired by a buyer at high prices, and time after time in each battle, he escaped the grim reaper’s axe.

Jack closes his eyes, breathing in the air in the house.

In the past, the air that he breathed was filled with either smoke and sulphur or the coppery tang of blood leaving a body. Now, around him all he smells is the aroma of food.

Unconsciously, Jack slips into sleep and a dream, but is forced to revisit his past. In his dreams he hears the sound of a bullet being fired from a gun, hears the loud explosions echo, hears the signs of people, one after another, falling and never getting up, hears the sound of blood gushing from a gunshot wound. Just as he thought that he could escape and finally be free.

I really want a place that I can return to, he sighs.

===

Although the sound of the key entering the keyhole and the main door opening is very soft, Jack, an ex-mercenary who is used to being on high alert always, still startles.

Jack’s eyes snap open suddenly, and he looks at his surroundings in a mixture of fear and wariness, until he’s sure that he’s lying on the couch in the living room. Only then does he straighten, his entire back drenched in cold sweat.

“Hehe, you’re not asleep yet?”

The smell of alcohol is strong on Zhao Zi, and holding onto his noisily clinking set of keys, he laughs and looks at his lover, who often waits on the couch for him to come back.

“You had to put in overtime again?”

Zhao Zi’s nose scrunches up as he shakes his head, “No, I went out for drinks with Ah Fei and Jun Wei.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“Hnn, I did.”

Zhao Zi removes his shoes and moves over to sit right next to Jack, then leans his entire body against the man’s shoulder. He adjusts himself until he’s most comfortable. 

“Liang Dian, hehe, Fang Liang Dian is so huge.”

Only at this time, acting all cute would Zhao Zi call him by his birth name. Zhao Zi happily reaches out to caress Jack's abdominal muscles.

“Hey! You really have some fetish for this huh?” Jack does not know whether to laugh or cry as he says this, and even though he doesn’t mind being sexually harassed in various forms by the shorty, it feels a little different tonight for some reason.

Why is Zhao Zi’s hand starting to move towards that somewhere?*

Zhao Zi swallows and looks at the area that is beginning to have some reaction with his touch, “It’s hard, huge… and a little hot.”**

“Shorty, are you intending to call in sick to work tomorrow?”

Since Zhao Zi has lit a flame in his body, then he must be mentally prepared to douse the flames out, all night long.

“I want to eat you up!”

Zhao Zi suddenly throws himself towards Jack and Jack, who is unable to react in time, ends up lying on his back on the soft couch.

“Huh?”

Jack looks at his lover, whose face is filled with determination, and allows Zhao Zi to pull up his loose shirt, lie on his chest and begin to lick and suck at his nipples.

The pants coming from Jack makes the person who took the initiative to attack him very satisfied, and so Zhao Zi continues to slide down Jack’s body, kissing Jack’s abdomen, and then he pulls down Jack’s shorts to reveal an already hard member.

“Hey, you can’t really want to top me, right?”

“Hmph!” Zhao Zi immediately glares at Jack, who is sitting up to get a better look at him.

Zhao Zi seems very unhappy that Jack seems to be doubting him. “I’m a guy too, if you can top me, then of course I can top you. What about it? You’re looking down on me, is that it?”***

It’s all Ah Fei’s fault! Earlier when they were drinking, he suddenly grabbed him and asked if Zhao Zi was still a virgin, and in the end in a fit of anger he retorted, “Who the hell’s a virgin, I’ve already done it with Jack!”

Shao Fei only went ‘oh’, and continued, “You may have grown behind, but in the front it’s as if you’re still single.”****

The drunk person holding and teasing the hard member in his hands suddenly starts crying, scaring Jack to the point of falling on his back again on the couch.

“Shorty, what’s up with you?”

Zhao Zi points at his similarly hard member and very loudly says, “Ah Fei says that even if I’ve done it with you, it’s only in the back that I’m not a virgin, but in the front it’s as if I’m still single and a virgin!”

“Pftt…. Hahahahaha!”

Hearing this, Jack can no longer control himself and starts to laugh, hugging his abdomen. Geez, what do these guys usually talk about? What a mess! Jack sighs, thinking about his ex-boss, who’s faced with such an unpredictable lover.

Tang Yi, you’ve got a tough life ahead of you.

Hold on a second! It seems that Jack himself didn’t get any luckier in his choice of partner, if he had to identify someone who was ever more ridiculous than Officer Meng, wouldn’t it exactly be the Zhao Zi kneeling right in front of him right now, the Zhao Zi who wants to ‘top’ him?

Suddenly struck with reality, Jack looks at his shorty with a frown. An opportunity for a prank flashes through his head then.

“Shorty, you really want to ‘pop your cherry’ for your ‘front’ as well?”*****

“Hmph, of course!” Zhao Zi burps, side eyeing Jack.

Jack raises an eyebrow and reaches for Zhao Zi’s chin, and with a strange smile he says, “Okay, I’ll let you ‘hug’ me!”

“Really? I can really eat you up?”

Zhao Zi swallows with excitement, and all that surfaces in his head is the image of this handsome and tall man being on the receiving end.

“Really, but…” Jack squints at Zhao Zi, and pretends to be very embarrassed as he continues, “Once you’ve eaten me, you have to be responsible to me for life.”

“Of course!”

The young officer proudly puffs out his flat chest, and although he does not have any hard and firm pecs, he’s definitely a man of his word, and he will be responsible towards his food…

Eh, that’s not right…

It’s being responsible to his own ‘man’ for the rest of their lives, he definitely will.

In the room

“Jack… hold on… Jack…. Jack...”

Inside the room, illuminated by only a single light, moans and harsh panting echo.

“What’s wrong?”

Jack knows exactly what’s wrong but still asks, holding onto his lover’s waist, and continuing what he was doing earlier.

Zhao Zi, as he pants, asks suspiciously, “Seems like… hah… hah… seems like something is a little… a little wrong.”

“Which part is wrong? Didn’t you want to top me?”

“Yeah.. earlier, earlier… we agreed… That I would… hah… that I would top you…”

“Shorty, aren’t you on top of me right now?”

“Hnn… nnn… yeah… yeah… ah…”

“Then that’s correct, I’ll continue to let you ‘top’ me then!”

What a cunning smile, as Jack says things that make his face flame.

“Okay… okay…. I, I’ll continue… continue to top you… if it hurts… ha-ah… you have to tell me…”

Zhao Zi imitates the way Jack is always so considerate of his feelings when they’re having sex, and repeats these reminders to Jack. Right now, if someone took out a magical mirror and put it in front of Jack, they would surely be able to see the fox tail behind him swinging from side to side.

“Okay!”

Jack, whose scheming plan succeeded, continues to embrace the shorty he loves so much, eating the drunk police officer so clean he doesn’t even leave any bones behind.

“Ah-”

Jack inserts his hard member upwards into Zhao Zi’s opening, and because of the way that Zhao Zi is sitting across Jack’s laps, the depth at which he penetrates Zhao Zi is even greater than usual. Every thrust accurately hits Zhao Zi’s prostate, and with each thrust, Zhao Zi finds it increasingly difficult to stop himself from making any sounds. Passionate moans sound in the room that belongs solely to them both.

“Ah- Jack… It feels so good… so good… Jack…”

“Me too,” Jack says through gritted teeth, enjoying the sensation of his cock being squeezed in a vice with satisfaction, “It feels very good for me too.”

“Then I’ll… Then I’ll continue… to top you…”******

Zhao Zi repeats the movement that Jack taught him previously. Every time he moves up he squeezes his muscles and tightens up, while relaxing every time he sits back down on Jack’s member.

“Oh god- Shorty you… you… ah...ah…”

Even though it was him who taught Zhao Zi all these tricks in bed, Jack forgot just how much Zhao Zi affects him. Usually, Jack already gets so excited when Zhao Zi responds to him without doing anything special, not to mention a Zhao Zi actually putting everything he knows to good use right now - Zhao Zi is completely messing up his rhythm.

“Ah-hah, Jack… Does this… feel… good?”

“Damn it!” the man who’s quickly losing control curses.

This is no longer an issue of whether it feels good, but a matter of him reaping what he sowed as he’s getting just what he asked for.

Oh god! It’s so tight there!

Cumming prematurely is the greatest blow to a man’s pride, well, that’s alright, it looks like his pride is quickly, almost…

“Ah- hah-”

Jack thrusts upwards into Zhao Zi with all the strength he has, then releases into his lover’s body.

Zhao Zi looks at the man lying and panting on the bed, and a satisfied smile tugs at his lips.

“Hehe, you actually came earlier than me,”

Wow, so the one who’s in charge of ‘topping’ the other does last longer! Every time they had sex before this it was always Zhao Zi who came first, and who expected that he could see Jack’s expression like this, post-orgasm?

Zhao Zi looks at his lover’s face, and makes a weird sound.

“What’re you looking at?” Jack glares at the man who’s sitting on him, pissed off.

“Jack…. What should I do?”

“What is it?”

“I think I…” Zhao Zi says honestly, “I’ve fallen more in love with you.”

Every time he sees an expression on Jack that he’s never seen before, he finds himself falling in love with Jack again. Is this normal? Or is it abnormal?

After receiving a confession so suddenly, Jack smiles and asks, “The next time you drink again, I’ll let you ‘top’ me, okay?”

“Okay!” Zhao Zi nods furiously.

“Just now you ate me, so now, it’s my turn to eat you.”

“Huh? What-”

Zhao Zi is abruptly flung and pressed into the bed with a pull across the back of his waist. His hole, which has turned red and swollen with all the friction, is still filled with Jack’s cock as the man refuses to withdraw.

“Wait a second!”

Didn’t they agree to let him be on top for the whole night? Why is he once again pressed to the bed by Jack?

“Didn’t you say that we have to be fair? I let you ‘top’ me once earlier, and now it’s my turn to ‘top’ you once too, this is what we call fair, right?”

“Nnn…”

In his dizzy state Zhao Zi has the niggling feeling that something isn’t quite right, but he can’t think of how to respond to Jack’s statement either, so all he can do is nod in agreement and acquiesce.

“You’re not wrong, so okay! Since you let me ‘top’ and made me feel so good earlier, I’ll let you ‘top’ me once too, but I’ve got to work tomorrow, so we can only do this once, and no additional rounds.”

“Okay,” Jack grins delighted.

Zhao Zi secretly sticks out his tongue at Jack in his mind. Lucky for him, Zhao Zi smartly voiced out his conditions first, otherwise Jack’s stamina is really equivalent to that of a monster’s and if Zhao Zi let him do as he likes, he won’t get to see the sun tomorrow, instead sleeping until it’s time to eat dinner the next day.

And so with Jack’s member, which has hardened again, they continue onto their second round. Of course, Jack keeps his promise to do Zhao Zi only one more time, and then holds onto an exhausted shorty, slipping into sleep with happiness.

===

The next morning, Zhao Zi wakes up under his alarm’s incessant ringing. He brushes his teeth and washes his face, then rubs at his bleary eyes out of habit as he walks down the stairs. 

“Good morning!” Jack, who’s busy preparing breakfast in the kitchen, turns around to look at the shorty who’s just woken up and greets.

“Good… good morning…”

Zhao Zi smiles happily and sits at the table by the window, waiting for Jack’s breakfast made with love, a few minutes later, his handsome lover brings over freshly made sandwiches and juice, sitting opposite him.

“Does it taste good?”

“It’s delicious, ah!” Zhao Zi exclaims suddenly, recalling what happened last night. 

The tip of his ears turn red, and Zhao Zi grabs onto Jack’s hand. He says, serious, “Don’t worry, I’ll be responsible for you for life.”

“...”

Jack is unable to react immediately, so he just stares at Zhao Zi, dumbfounded. Then he laughs.

“Hey! I’m being serious here, what are you laughing for?”

Jack shakes his head and resists the urge to laugh even more. He deliberately bites at his lower lip and replies, “Then please be responsible for me, for life, okay?”

“Nnn! No problem, I promise!”

Zhao Zi pats at his chest, which has remained flat no matter how he tried to exercise it, and makes a promise to the one he loves.

===

Notes:

*This is exactly how it’s written, word for word translation, I KID U NOT

**I have facepalmed

***Once again WHEN CAN WE STOP WITH THIS DISCOURSE OF TOPPING = AFFIRMATION OF MASCULINITY/IDENTITY 

****Honestly, I cannot imagine Shao Fei saying this 

*****I would like to cry, and not happily

******Wow guys I only realized that Zhao Zi was duped today, like TODAY, six months after I got the novel. I’m a bit mind blown. To be fair I didn’t dare read through the whole thing in my first few reads, but omg, Zhao Zi you are so easily duped. This is such a questionable scene?! But also towards the end my brain just kind of switched off and I’m translating so mechanically like I’m praying my brain doesn’t process any of the words. I’m sorry, I REALLY TRIED. Once again, I hope you didn’t read this, and if you made it all the way down here... if you liked it, cools, if you didn’t, you can cry with me in the comments. 

[pookha]

Luck is no substitute for a good plan by KittenKnife (pookha) M rated for violence and self-harm/suicide

Felicia Felix, also known as Lucky Clover, has a dark past. She joins the All-American Angels under false pretenses to further her plan of revenge. Ultra will pay for what he did to her parents.

Act 1

"Next," Witchcraft said with weariness in her voice.

A young woman, maybe a teenager, Felicia wasn't sure, went into the circle.

"Name?" Witchcraft levitated a stylus over her tablet.

"Lumineera," the woman said from behind her light-blonde bangs.

"What are your powers?" Computrix asked.

"I focus light," the woman said, but so quietly it was almost inaudible.

"Sorry?" Lady Justice shifted in her chair and her scales rattled on the table.

The woman stood up straighter, and spoke louder. "I focus light."

"Show us," Computrix said in their cold, clipped voice.

Lumineera raised her hands and the overhead lights dimmed as her skin started glowing brighter and brighter until she was painful to look at. Suddenly, she pointed at a wall. A focussed beam of light shot out from her hand and scored a dark black line on it. She produced balls of light and flung them at various members of the All-American Angels. None of them did any damage as far as Felicia could see, but they were definitely dazzling.

She unzipped her loose jumpsuit and let it drop. She became painful to look at. Suddenly, she dissolved into a burst of light and disappeared. A second later, there was a glow under the door and she reformed from the other side of it, slowly oozing out from the small crack under the door.

Her glowing form walked back to her jumpsuit, put it on and then went back to the circle.

"Interesting," Computrix said. "Must you disrobe to teleport like that?"

Lumineera nodded and then lowered her head shyly. She just looked like a shy young woman again.

"Can you do real damage with the light?" Lady Justice asked.

"I can focus enough as a laser beam to cut through a steel I-beam, but it takes a while unless I have a really bright source of light to use." She was still mostly hiding behind her hair.

Witchcraft let her stylus drop onto the table, waved her hands and a small block of metal appeared on the floor.

"Demonstrate, please," Computrix ordered.

Lumineera concentrated for a moment, the lights dimmed again and a beam of light came from her hand. Felicia had to turn her head because it was like looking at an arc-welder without darkened goggles.

Witchcraft made sunglasses appear over her face and Lady Justice's, but Computrix merely watched with their expressionless black eyes.

Less than a minute later, there was a clank and when Felicia looked back, the slab was neatly cut in two, with the edges still glowing white-hot.

"Very good," Witchcraft said. "We'll be in touch."

Lumineera nodded, then walked quickly out of the room, leaving only Felicia with the Angels.

Witchcraft made the two hot pieces of metal disappear.

"Next."

Felicia stood and moved to the center of the room, conscious of how she looked: just an ordinary young woman in jeans, a Harry Potter T-shirt, Cons and glasses. She knew she looked younger than her twenty-five years. She also knew she was far, far, from ordinary.

Witchcraft turned her focus to her. Felicia swore she could actually feel Computrix's gaze on her, too. Lady Justice merely looked on impassively.

"Name?"

"Felicia Felix, but some people call me Lucky Clover," Felicia made eye contact with each of the Angels.

"Powers?" Computrix demanded.

"I can control people's luck, either making them lucky or unlucky. I can transfer luck from one person to another." She did not; however, tell them she could also split her mind into multiple parts, or that she was the daughter of Dr Eugenica and SirRebral.

"Luck does not exist," Computrix said. "There is no such thing as random."

"That is not true at all," Felicia said. "Radioactive decay is predictable, but when an individual particle will decay is random. Wave-form collapse has probabilities, but they are just that; probabilities, and they do randomly happen based on those probabilities."

Witchcraft and Lady Justice turned to Computrix.

"Are you saying that you can shift the quantum possibilities?" Computrix sounded doubtful, a trick of the voice they must have learned recently.

"That is exactly what I'm saying." Felicia held up her hands. "I don't know exactly how it works, but I can demonstrate it."

"Go ahead," Computrix said.

"While I've been sitting here waiting, I've been draining luck from Witchcraft and transferring it to you." Felicia pointed at Computrix.

Computrix shut their eyes briefly and then reopened them."You are certain? I do not feel different and my diagnostics do not show any interference."

"I am sure; I wasn't sure if I could before getting here, but I can...I guess ‘feel' would be the best word for the transfer, and you definitely have some quality that I can transfer luck to that I can't do with a mere machine."

Felicia pulled a tablet out of her pocket and turned it on.

"I have encrypted the password to my GreetMe page with 128 bit encryption that would take approximately 2 times 10 to the 12th power years to crack with a brute force attack."

She looked at Computrix.

Computrix nodded.

"A very close approximation," they said. "I assume you would like me to brute force this password?"

"Yes, please." Felicia started to walk to the table where Computrix sat, but Computrix waved her off.

"Please turn on your bluetooth and I will do it remotely."

While Felicia did just that, she said, "I would like you to start with a random--"

Computrix started to object, but Felicia spoke over them.

"Okay, pseudo-random seed."

Computrix closed their eyes again and Felicia increased the flow of luck from Witchcraft to Computrix. She transferred it as fast as she could and soon Witchcraft was nearly drained of luck.

"I---" Computrix started to say, but Witchcraft's chair snapped, she dropped her tablet and it shattered on the edge of the table. The stylus fell suddenly from where it had been writing on its own on the tablet and stuck in the chain of Lady Justice's scales, causing them to tip wildly for a second before she stilled them. While they were swinging, her head became a crocodile's head, then reverted back to a human one when she stopped the scales.

"I have cracked it." Computrix said as Witchcraft tried to stand, slipped on a piece of the tablet's broken screen and fell heavily back to the floor.

Lady Justice helped Witchcraft back to a chair.

"It took me two minutes, forty-three point three two five seconds," Computrix said. "Impressive."

"How did you choose the seed you started from?" Felicia asked.

"I based it on my internal chronometer translated into hex then back into alphanumeric, based on an Enigma pattern that was encoded on the date of my creation in 1940."

"How did you decide on that particular seed, though?" Felicia pushed the issue.

"I...It just seemed right," Computrix's voice had a doubt to it that Felicia had never heard before when they had spoken on television.

"Intriguing. Have you always been able to control this luck? Can you increase it only to a set amount? Does it work at a distance? Over video?" Computrix was going to keep asking questions, but Felicia jumped in.

"I can't increase or decrease my own luck. I can do it over a distance, but it is not as effective; my assumption based on my qualitative observations is that it varies inversely to the distance between me and my target squared; both ways if I'm transferring it and not merely removing it and dissipating it. It seems to be a positive quality and to increase someone's bad luck, I merely have to remove their good luck. I have to be able to see my target or both targets, but I can do it over video if I know where they are."

She paused. Computrix started to speak, but Felicia continued.

"It can only go to a certain point then there are diminishing returns and it seems to dissipate into the ‘aether'."

Computrix frowned at the word ‘aether.'

"Yes, I know, there is no aether, but it does decay somehow. It does not affect machines, as I said. I also can't seem to affect my parents with it, but I don't know why not." She meant her real parents, not her adopted parents. She had tried over a live feed she had hacked from the black site prison they had been renditioned to and it hadn't worked. Soon after, they died in Meteorite's failed escape.

"Please return to your seat while we deliberate." Lady Justice stood and helped Witchcraft to stand.

"Also, return my luck," Witchcraft demanded.

"Already in process," Felicia said. "I would estimate that you are at around fifty percent of normal now and will be back to eighty or so percent before I leave; Computrix used quite a bit of it."

Witchcraft's face darkened and Felicia held up her hands.

"Don't worry, it will refill completely by tomorrow morning, I promise."

Felicia sat back down on one of the chairs she had been waiting in before the audition. The Angels sat behind the table and discussed her in whispers, with the occasional hard look from Witchcraft.

After a few minutes, they called her forward.

She stood in front of the table.

"I must ask; what do you do for a living?" Computrix asked.

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you," Felicia said smiling. "Couldn't see my files, could you?"

Computrix's eyes narrowed in a very good approximation of a human.

"No, I could not." They steepled their  long, grey fingers.

"I estimate a ninety-five percent chance that you work for the CIA or NSA, a three percent chance that you are a plant from the League of Malice, a one percent chance that you are an alien/fey/other unknown and/or mischievous creature and a variety of other probabilities that each are less than one percent. Accordingly, we would like to offer you a probationary acceptance to the All-American Angels as a support hero."

Felicia smiled. She hadn't expected to succeed on the first try, and even making the support hero team was an amazing accomplishment; only three others had done it on the first try. This would speed up her timetable.

"We would like you to be on-call at our HQ, so that you may..." they paused.

"Fill us with luck," Lady Justice said, smiling.

Act 2

Since joining the Angels, Felicia had assisted on ten missions and they all went well. They were rated almost as highly in the public opinion polls as the Second-City Rectifiers, and they had Ultra on their team. The Angels had all agreed with Felicia that it would be best if she wasn't seen in public with them and that the reason for their latest accomplishments would stay a secret. They had publicly added Plumbia to the team at the same time as Felicia and Plumbia was making her mark as well.

Felicia watched Dark Zombie on the monitor from his prison cell located in the basement of Angel HQ. She could feel Dark Zombie's luck seeping out, out, out into the aether to Lady Justice, who she was watching on another monitor.

Lady Justice had Drunken Bastard fully in the power of her scales and Felicia knew he was reliving his crimes and judging himself. She'd had to endure Lady Justice doing this to her, and it was quite painful, even when your crimes were minor like Felicia's had been. She relived sucking all the luck out of her ex-girlfriend during the Homecoming game and watching her tumble from the top of the cheerleader's pyramid where she hit the ground with a sickening crunch. She relived using her power on the neighbor's dog after it had bitten her sister and the way it ran into traffic.

Felicia let these relatively minor incidents be judged and hid the rest in the eighth partition at the back of her mind. Lady Justice never saw Felicia manipulating the luck of the NSA background checker who was vetting her employment application or the way that Felicia had drained all the luck from the NSA cryptanalyst who had the job in the SuperVillain cryptanalysis lab before her.

On the monitor, Sharkey rose up just behind Lady Justice to bite her head off, but then suddenly an I-beam fell off the crane that had been lifting it and flattened him. Lady Justice didn't even blink, and she kept her focus on the now-blubbering Drunken Bastard.

Felicia could hear him over Lady Justice's feed.

"I'm sorry, Charlene. I'm sorry, Charlene, I was drunk. I was stupid. Forgive me!"

He screamed in pain and frustration.

Sharkey pushed the I-Beam off him and then the dump truck he was next to had its back gate fail. A rain of red dust enveloped him as it dropped its load on him like literally six tons of bricks. Felicia smiled. It wouldn't kill Sharkey, he was too tough, but it would put him out of the fight.

She turned  to Computrix's monitor, but they didn't need any help in their fight with Slamdance. Whatever attack Slamdance tried to use, Computrix blocked and then counter-attacked. They were both so fast, it was a blur, but the computer readout made it clear that Computrix was fine and Slamdance was rapidly tiring.

Felicia watched Plumbia pounding the crap out of Steelhead. He was made of harder metal, but his attacks just sank into Plumbia's soft lead body without hurting her. Witchcraft was somewhere nearby, but invisible; Felicia could tell by the glowing bands that were beginning to tighten around Steelhead's arms and legs.

She turned back to Lady Justice like she had been doing for the last three months and admired her as she reduced Drunken Bastard to unconsciousness and then moved on to the now restrained Steelhead. He soon fell into her power too and just about the time he went under, Computrix finished off Slamdance with a powerful axe-kick. Slamdance toppled, her shoulder dislocated.

The FBI's super-villain transport unit arrived soon afterward and took the Destroyers into custody. Computrix double-checked all of their meta-restraints and made sure Steelhead was actually out before they let the FBI transport the villains away.

The Angels all gathered in a circle and Witchcraft teleported them back to HQ. Felicia heard the displacement of the air in the conference room and went to greet them.

Lady Justice met her just as Felicia opened the door from the control room to the conference room.

"Thank you," Lady Justice told her and hugged Felicia tightly. Felicia's heart began beating faster. She hadn't expected to feel anything for any of the Angels, but something about Lady Justice made her...long for...companionship? Sex? Love?She wasn't sure exactly what she wanted. This was not part of the plan.

"I...You're welcome," she said in a strained voice as Lady Justice tightened her grip.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Lady Justice said as she released Felicia.

"No, it's fine, really. Glad it helped out. Sharkey's one tough bastard, huh?"

Lady Justice grinned. "And Drunken Bastard wouldn't be so bad if he could dry out, but he stays drunk even when there's no booze around."

Felicia nodded. She'd read his file.

"I'm going to go shower. Want to wait for me and then we can talk after?" Lady Justice asked, her voice sounding somehow confident to Felicia.

Felicia nodded and followed Lady Justice to her quarters. She had been there only once before, when Lady Justice had asked her to help Computrix with a bug sweep. They'd been afraid that the TechnoBabbles had infiltrated HQ somehow, but it turned out to be a false alarm. Computrix seemed surprised at Felicia's knowledge of surveillance and also Felicia's capabilities in counter-surveillance, but Felicia thought it was likely an act on their part as they had to have figured out Felicia's capabilities by now. Or maybe, Felicia had thought, Computrix wasn't the super-computing android she was made out to be.

As they went through the conference room where Plumbia was talking loudly with Witchcraft and Computrix, Felicia felt a gaze on her and turned her head. Computrix met her eyes for just a second before turning her face back to Plumbia.

The walk to Lady Justice's quarters passed quietly, Felicia concentrating on not staring at Lady Justice's backside as she walked behind her. Lady Justice partially turned her head and noticed. Felicia blushed. Lady Justice laughed and turned back around.

Lady Justice opened the door to her quarters and let Felicia inside, then came in and locked the door.

"It's okay to look; do you like what you see?" Lady Justice asked as she set her scales down on a plinth in the center of the room. They glowed red-gold briefly then looked just like old-fashioned scales sitting there.

"I--What?" Felicia asked.

Lady Justice undid her hair ribbon and her dark black hair fell to her waist.. She put the hair ribbon over her eyes like a blindfold.

"You must know that even blindfolded, Lady Justice sees all." She laughed and threw the blindfold/hair ribbon on the couch, then she flopped on it heavily and patted the cushion next to her.

Felicia gulped and sat.

Lady Justice leaned in and suddenly she was close, her lips were close, her hair was close, and her lashes were oh so long. Felicia shouldn't; but she wanted to.

Then her lips were on Felicia's and they became lost in the kiss.

After what seemed like minutes, but must have only been seconds, Lady Justice pulled back.

"I thought I might have to make the first move. Before you decide, you need to know what I am."

"You're Ammit," Felicia said, "The Devourer of the Dead, who commits the unworthy to eternal fire."

"I am. But I am also what remains of Anubis and Ma'at. I am more than one being in this body." She sighed.

"This is my true form."

She changed. The crocodile head that Felicia had briefly seen in her tryout was there, but so also was a jackal head superimposed with it. She had both a human body, but also a lion's and a hippo's body. They all overlapped and morphed together.

"I am all this," Lady Justice said. "But I am also this."

She changed again, back to herself, she wasn't outwardly bigger, but she had more...presence . She looked like herself again, but with a heavy black blindfold over her eyes. The scales disappeared from the plinth and reappeared in her hands.

When she spoke, her voice carried weight.

"I am Justice. I was born into this world long ago. I have been Justice as Vengeance; I have been Justice as Truth; I have been Justice as Mercy." She snapped her fingers, the blindfold disappeared, the scales went back to the plinth and Lady Justice sat there, looking small.

"I change with the times and each rebirth." She hugged herself.

"Can you handle all that?" she asked.

"I can try," Felicia said and leaned in for another kiss.

Two years later, Computrix addressed the Angels in the conference room.

"I am concerned that the League of Malice has been too quiet lately. I propose we strike first. Ultra has information on that front."

Ultra was also there from Second City Rectifiers. Felicia eyed him; if he figured it out too soon, then her plan would be for nothing.

Computrix sat and Ultra stood. His voice was dark mahogany sliding over oiled leather.

"We have uncovered the lair of the League of Malice and would like to perform a coordinated strike on it with the All-American Angels."

"We will be the primary force, and the Angels will be the infiltrators. While we engage the League from outside, Lady Justice, Computrix and Plumbia would go in the side entrance, corrupt L'ordinateur's computers and then capture him. Without him quarterbacking, it should be an easy mop-up on the rest of the League."

Felicia thought he sounded over-confident. But then he had every right to be; he was nigh-indestructible.

He pulled up a hologrammatic plan of the League's base and they all hashed out the plan together.

"Excuse me," Felicia interrupted.

Ultra turned his blue glowing eyes to her and from the other side of the table Computrix also stared at her coldly.

"Yes?" Ultra asked.

Felicia met Computrix's glare.

"What do you calculate your odds of corrupting L'Ordinateur's computers at in the time Ultra's allotted for it?"

Computrix closed their eyes for a second.

"Seventy-three percent with an error range of plus or minus five percent," they replied.

"And what would those odds increase to with my assistance on the scene?"

Computrix recalculated.

"Ninety-two percent with an error range of plus or minus two percent."

Ultra turned his full attention to Felicia. She felt very small suddenly.

"I haven't met you until today," he told her, his voice penetrating directly to her brain. She partitioned her mind into eight parts and it retreated.

He noticed somehow that she had done something and redoubled the power in his voice.

"What do you do for the Angels?"

"I am the secondary computer expert, the tactical coordinator, and..." she looked to Computrix who nodded.

"And, I also push good luck to the team by removing it from others." His blue glowing eyes stared through her.

"You literally control luck?" he asked.

She nodded.

"This is the missing piece in why your team has become so much more effective, isn't it?" he demanded of Computrix.

"She is the biggest change, yes, but it is not solely her powers that have made the difference. She also has one of the most amazing intellects I have seen in a human, and she runs the team effectively from the comms."

"Why don't you go into the field more?" he asked Felicia.

"I'm just a human. One good hit from almost any super and I'd be dead. I'm a liability in the field as I would distract the team trying to protect me."

Lady Justice looked down at her hands. Computrix saw, but Felicia didn't think Ultra did.

"Why then, would you want to go on this mission?" he asked.

"You heard Computrix, it increases our odds by twenty percent and reduces the error rate. It's a risk I'll have to take eventually. Also, I can control the flow of luck much better in person."

"Can you keep me invisible or do something else to protect me?" she asked Witchcraft.

"I could keep you invisible, but it takes a fair bit of concentration. I don't think I could do it and complete my other mission parts."

"What about Robotrice's mech-suit? We have that in storage and she was about the same size as Felicia," Lady Justice chimed in.

"That would make a difference," Computrix said. Felicia felt she could see the numbers running behind their eyes.

"We could also have Plumbia stay near Felicia as a bodyguard," Lady Justice said.

Computrix nodded. "But then we have to give Plumbia's part to someone else; one of the reserves, perhaps?"

"You would trust this to a reserve?" Ultra demanded.

"I think Lumineera could get us through the doors almost as fast as Plumbia?" Witchcraft asked.

Computrix closed their eyes and this time Felicia definitely saw the eyelids moving, almost like REM sleep in a human.

They opened them a second later. "Yes, Lumineera can perform the task adequately."

Felicia grinned. She'd been with the team for two years and this would be the first time she was in the field. This might just be the time to push the next part of the plan forward.

After the meeting, Lady Justice caught up with her.

"You should go tailor Robotrice's mech-suit to you now, so you can get used to it by the time of the op."

"Good idea, come with?" Felicia asked.

Lady Justice shook her head. "Sorry, I've got to visit an old friend in Cairo tonight."

They kissed their goodbyes and Felicia went down to the storage lockers to get Robotrice's suit.

Felicia knew the op wasn't running correctly when there were more soldiers on the ground than predicted. Plumbia protected her from the bullets and mopped the soldiers up when their weapons all jammed at the same time. Felicia saw the other groups were similarly delayed by human minions. It was nothing they couldn't handle, but it was starting to throw off the timetable.

She watched the HUDs inside the mechsuit's helmet, keeping an eye on all the conflicts at once. She'd already partitioned her brain into sixteen parts and would have a full-scale migraine later, but for now it was worth it since she could multi-task; keeping aware of her surroundings and controlling luck flow for four or five people at once; six if she pushed it and didn't care about lost luck transmission packets.

She kept two of her mind-partitions on Lady Justice's display and also was transmitting extra luck to her from the unconscious soldiers.

One of the screens blinked red and she paid more attention to it. Angelfire from the Rectifiers had been taken down by Demonspawn from the League and forced to battle on the ground where his wings were more a hindrance than a help. Demonspawn threw bolts of darkness at Angelfire, but he danced around them.

A flaming sword appeared in Angelfire's hands and he met the next bolts directly with it. They splattered and fell to the ground where they smoldered. Angelfire leapt and struck at Demonspawn with his blade, but Demonspawn met it with a black blade of his own. Felicia ran as she followed Plumbia through the jungle to the side door. Computrix and Lumineera were still paralleling them and Lady Justice and Witchcraft trailed behind them in reserve, ready to teleport in when it was clear.

The Rectifiers were holding up their end of the bargain and keeping the League distracted with their frontal assault. Ultra showed up to help Angelfire and while Demonspawn was distracted by Ultra's attack, Angelfire smote him. Demonspawn disappeared in a greasy puff of black smoke.

"He'll be back, but not for 666 days," Angelfire told Ultra.

Ultra nodded, picked up Angelfire and flew off with him to the next conflict.

Plumbia had cleared the way and she and Felicia reached the side door. Felicia popped the decoder device over the keypad and started to decrypt the passcode. The plan was that whoever got to the door first would try to open it their way and if that didn't work, Lumineera would just laser through it.

Felicia ran the program over the keypad, but also looked at it to see if any of the keys showed obvious wear; even knowing one or two of the numbers in the passcode would speed the process quite a bit. She thought the two and four looked slightly more worn, so she put those in the device and just as Computrix and Lumineera arrived, the door opened.

A fusillade of gunfire came through the newly opened door. A bullet ricocheted off a wall and clipped Felicia on the side of her helmet. It didn't penetrate the mech-suit, but it snapped her head back painfully.

Lumineera put up a shield of light in front of herself and got spattered lightly by some melted bullets, but they couldn't pass her kevlar suit. Computrix avoided the bullets with speed that Felicia still couldn't believe even though she'd seen it before. Plumbia merely waded into the soldiers and began to beat them relentlessly as their bullets just sank into her soft lead flesh.

Plumbia had just reached the leader barking orders at the back when he pushed a red button on his suit. All of the bullets embedded in Plumbia exploded and bits of lead and other body parts flew past Felicia. A leaden hand fell at Felicia's feet.

Plumbia's explosion killed most of the soldiers and before Computrix could stop her, Lumineera had lasered through the heads of the rest.

"We do not kill!" Computrix shouted at Lumineera as they ran through the door into the hallway. Felicia stared in shock at Plumbia's smoldering corpse before Witchcraft and Lady Justice appeared suddenly in front of her with a whoosh of displaced air.

"I didn't give her enough luck," Felicia said quietly into her comm.

"I don't think any amount of luck could have prevented that trap," Computrix's voice came through her earpiece.

Lady Justice's hand squeezed Felicia's shoulder. The haptic feedback in the suit made it feel like her hand was actually touching Felicia's flesh and she shivered.

"Mourn later; we have to finish this, okay?" Lady Justice's voice was soft.

Felicia gulped and nodded. She concentrated briefly again and began searching for luck to remove, but Lumineera and the explosion had killed all the enemies close enough to make a difference.

Felicia followed behind Witchcraft and Lady Justice, and they trailed just behind Lumineera and Computrix in the vanguard. The schematics for the League of Malice's base that the Rectifiers had uncovered appeared to be accurate and soon they were in L'ordinateur's server room.

Computrix immediately jacked into the servers and began to process the corrupting virus she had been carrying. Lumineera guarded one door and Lady Justice and Witchcraft guarded the other. Felicia also plugged her tablet into the servers to help Computrix. She'd found out that Computrix wasn't better at this, merely faster.

Her tablet beeped, she looked at it. It glowed red around the edge.

"Disengage!" she yelled at Computrix, but it was too late. Computrix began to shake uncontrollably as viruses from L'ordinateur tried to penetrate her firewalls. It had all been a massive trap. Felicia desperately flailed at her tablet, but nothing she did helped. Computrix would either fight the viruses off on her own, or she would die; or worse, be taken over.

Felicia began unplugging the servers from each other and their power sources.

The cooling fans reversed suddenly and the doors closed.

"What's happening?" Witchcraft asked.

"L'ordinateur is pulling all the air out of the room," Felcia said. "It was all a trap."

"Yes, it is," L'ordinateur's voice came from Computrix's mouth. They struggled to stand. Witchcraft began to create air in the room, but it was being sucked out faster than she could replace it. Lumineera had just started to cut through one of the doors when the lights went out. They could all still see, but Lumineera now had no ambient light to draw from. Felicia turned on the spotlights on the mechsuit, and as Lumineera started to cut through the door again, Felicia saw the battery meter on the suit dropping precipitously.

Felicia tried to find someone...anyone to drain luck from and give to her team, but there was no one.

"Luck is no replacement for a good plan," L'ordinateur said through Computrix. They managed to stand and tried to grab Felicia who danced back. Computrix was still wobbly, but if L'ordinateur gained full control of her, then they'd all be in trouble.

Lady Justice met the gaze of Computrix and tried to pull L'ordinateur into the power of her scales of Justice, but it didn't seem to be working.

"That won't work on me, I'm afraid," L'ordinateur said. "I have no remorse or guilt for anything I've ever done. Human emotions are a curse. It's a shame my child here never understood that. Her emotions and care for you all will be her undoing, but now that I have control of her body, she can be reset."

Felicia wondered briefly why L'ordinateur referred to Computrix as ‘she' instead of ‘they,' but dismissed it as unimportant.

Computrix lunged suddenly and grabbed Lady Justice's scales. They ripped them out of Lady Justice's hands and flung them across the room.

Felicia opened a compartment on the mechsuit.

"Now let's see if a god can die," L'ordinateur/Computrix said. They gripped Lady Justice's head in both hands and twisted just as Felicia reached into the compartment.

A loud snap filled the chamber and Lady Justice fell to the ground.

"You're next," Computrix said to Felicia and took a step toward her. A blast of light from Lumineera stopped them briefly and Felicia pushed a button on the device she'd pulled out.

Nothing happened outwardly, but Computrix suddenly fell to the ground, limp. The fans stopped, the servers stopped, the mechsuit shut down and the lights on it slowly faded to glowing filaments as they cooled. The mechsuit opened in failsafe mode to let Felicia out.

"What was that?" Witchcraft asked.

"EMP bomb," Felicia said. "All the electronics within about 2 miles will be out now. If L'ordinateur was in that range, then he's dead." She didn't think he was, but she hoped.

"You killed Computrix?" Lumineera's voice squeaked.

"No, L'ordinateur killed them, I merely killed their animated corpse." Felicia sat heavily. The air was still thin.

Witchcraft kept filling the room with air and when they could breathe easier, she created a miniature sun that Lumineera used to finish cutting through the door. Felicia went to Lady Justice's body and cradled her head in her lap.

"She can't die like that," Witchcraft told Felicia. "She'll be back, but it will be in a slightly different incarnation than before. We need to keep her scales for her, she'll want them."

Lumineera finally got through the door and they walked wearily out of the base. Felicia carried the scales.

Ultra met them at the side door.

"All went to plan then?" he asked, but his eyes were on Lady Justice's scales.

"We lost Plumbia and Lady Justice," Felicia said.

"But we also captured all of the League except L'ordinateur, who doesn't seem to be here." Ultra's smug voice blanketed Felicia.

"You knew this was a trap?" she asked him.

"Of course not." The lie was smooth, but this was part of Felicia's training. He was lying. They had been the distraction; he'd used them as a fucking distraction and now Lady Justice was dead; Plumbia was dead; and he'd taken another person she loved from her; first her parents, now Lady Justice.

Time to move the plan forward, she thought in fifteen of the sixteen partitions of her mind.

Act 3

Lady Justice appeared at her own funeral. Her new incarnation reminded Felicia unsettlingly of Computrix. She was cold and emotionless as she judged now and whatever she and Felicia had was gone. She wasn't the same person that Felicia had loved.

When she got back to HQ, Felicia left a note on her dresser and left. Witchcraft or Lumineera would find it soon.

Felicia went home, made some tea and ate a stale sandwich, then she curled up on the couch and cried until she fell asleep. When she woke up in the early hours, she sighed, stood up, showered and then sat in front of her laptop.

While it booted, she opened her secure desk drawer and removed Computrix's head. She attached a high-speed cable of her own making to the port in the back of Computrix's neck that she'd rebuilt.

Humming tunelessly, she opened apps on her laptop and then connected the cable to it. Soon she confirmed what she'd thought. There was nothing of Computrix left after the virus and the EMP bomb, but there were  small traces of L'ordinateur.

She ran backtracing protocols on the virus, looking for signatures of L'ordinateur, software he'd used, servers he'd hacked or VPNs he'd bounced data from. The NSA programs she used had been developed by programmers that she'd pumped luck into, and she'd also used ten parts of her partitioned brain in checking them for bugs and errors afterward.

It was good that Computrix was finally out of the way, as they would likely have been able to stop Felicia from what she was about to attempt.

She backtraced L'ordinateur as far as she could and put a message out into one of the servers she'd found on a VPN. He might have thought his VPN was untraceable, but she'd just showed him it wasn't.

She only had to wait a few seconds when a message pinged back.

Clever girl. You knew I wasn't dead.

Need to meet you, either IRL or virtual; don't care.

Why would I agree to that?

I have something you need.

Yes?

5x10^23 qubits of processing power.

Lies.

I work with the NSA and can get you access to the SC3.

The Super-Cooled Super-Conducting Super-Computer is a rumor. This is a trap.

Can prove it. Give me a 256 bit protected password and I'll brute force it in seconds.

Fine.

A few seconds later a link appeared. Felicia checked it every way she knew for viruses and traps and didn't find any.

Starting now.

She connected her laptop through the backdor of the SC3 that she'd helped work on and then used a code-cracking app she'd developed on his password. Forty-three seconds later, she'd broke it.

She logged into a virtual chatroom and then they worked out the rest of the plan to capture or kill Ultra together. L'ordinateur never knew it was all a lie.

The amplifier helmet wasn't comfortable, but that hadn't been in Psycho's mind when he'd made it. Felicia wiggled in the reclined seat and tried to relieve pressure from her neck. It may not have been comfortable, but it did its job. With Psycho pumped full of luck, he'd made breakthrough after breakthrough on his mind amplifiers and he'd been able to make what had always eluded him: an amplifier for any meta-human's natural powers. He'd used it first to take over both the president of the U.S and then the Russian president. When she used it, she no longer needed to see her targets, she could feel them.

The Rectifiers knew something was up and they'd stepped up their attacks on the League, but bad luck kept happening to them. Angelfire had been dragged to Hell when Lucifer himself had accidently been summoned by some school-girls and ClawBomb had come down with some weird virus when he'd bitten Chupacabra. Only Ultra seemed to not be having bad luck. He'd figured out that Felicia had joined the League, but he couldn't find her; with both her and L'ordinateur covering their cyber-tracks, they were virtually invisible.

Felicia concentrated on all the remaining members of the Rectifiers, pulling their luck out and putting it into Ultra. Tomorrow, the big test would happen. She unplugged and went to bed and slept the best she had since before her parents died; even better than she had in Lady Justice's arms.

In her dreams, Lady Justice had her trapped in the power of her scales, but since she didn't feel guilty about what she had done, she wasn't affected. She awakened even more sure of what she was doing.

She started to undress to shower, then decided it didn't make a difference. Today, it ended one way or the other. She left, still in her Ravenclaw pajamas.

She went to the PsychoChamber and attached the helmet. She adjusted all the dials to 11 then she started sucking luck out of everyone that she could; billions of people. The gauges pegged into the red-line immediately and a tinny computer voice spoke in her ear.

"Warning! 6.5 billion people exceeds safety parameters! Override to continue!"

"Override code Lucky Clover 654xYZ," Felicia said, then she partitioned her brain into thirty-two parts. She'd only done it once before, and it had put her in a coma for a month afterward, but it just didn't matter.

She kept twenty of the partitions focused on draining luck from everyone else and pushing it to Ultra. There was a ton of leakage, but it wouldn't make a difference in the long run either.

"Lucky Clover," L'ordinateur said into her earpiece. "What are you doing? This is not what we agreed."

"It isn't, is it?" she said simply.

The thirty-first partition of her brain pushed a button on her tablet and the Dedicated Denial of Service automated attack she'd put in place started happening to L'ordinateur.

"What?" his voice crackled out of her ear.

He was now being bombarded with requests from millions of slave computers that Felicia had infected. It wouldn't keep him long, but it would be long enough.

The thirty-second partition noticed Psycho come through the door.

"What are you doing?" he asked. He tried to walk across to the main console, but tripped on a mess of wires.

"Destroying the world," she said emotionlessly.

Psycho tried to invade her mind, but the partitions confused him for a second. Since he was now in her mind, she could do something she had never tried before. She reflected his mind in all of her partitions and pushed it back at him. His mind snapped into thirty-two pieces, mirroring hers.

He screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and screamed. He tried to stand, fell, then crawled away still screaming.

She turned all but five partitions of her mind to the luck draining again. The others entered codes on her tablets.

"Launches confirmed." the computer voice said.

She kept draining luck. It would take about thirty minutes for the first missiles to reach the U.S and Russia, but reports were already in from the Middle-East and India and Pakistan.

News reports started to go crazy. NORAD scrambled, but it was too late. Secret SDI satellites from the U.S. and Russia shot down some of the missiles, but there were just too many.

"What have you done?" L'ordinateur's voice came

"What needed to be done," she replied.

"You won't," he said, then there was a crackling and his line went dead. Wherever he had actually been in the world must have been hit.

Felicia took the helmet off, sat up and left the League's bunker. When she got to ground level and stepped out of the elevator, she could see missile contrails in the distance.

She sat down and waited. She kept her luck sense extended. She could feel Ultra getting closer. It was only minutes before he got there.

He landed and lifted her effortlessly until her face was in front of hers.

"What did you do?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that? It's fucking obvious. I launched nuclear armageddon."

He shook her so violently she almost passed out. Twenty-four of her mental partitions blanked out.

"Why?"

"I did it for you." She kept pushing all the remaining luck the people in the world had into him. The luck kept sputtering out as millions or billions of people died, but there was still some and Ultra was getting it all.

"You put my parents in prison and they died there. I wasn't able to help them. You let the Angels be shock-troops for you. You knew it was a trap and you sent us anyway. You let Lady Justice die."

He shook her some more and this time she did pass out. When she woke she was leaning against a tree and he was looming over her. Her head ached and only one partition was still working correctly.

"You're killing everyone just for revenge?"

She sighed and shook her head. "No, not just revenge, and not everyone will die. The human race is pretty resilient; they'll have a bad time of it for a while, but it will survive, just, you know, not anywhere in the Northern Hemisphere for millennia."

"Who were your parents?" he asked. He sat down and put his hand in his hands.

"Dr Eugenica and SirRebral," she answered.

"I remember you; you were just a baby when we fostered you. How did you find out?" His eyes glowed even bluer.

"I've always known I was special. I couldn't just control luck, I could split my mind into multiple parts and multi-task on so much."

She sighed again.

"Soon, it will be over, and Lady Justice in her form of Anubis will come for my soul. It will be judged by Ma'at and will be heavier than a feather and then Ammit will devour me and I'll be part of her forever. And I'll see my parents again."

She met his gaze.

"You are the luckiest being on the earth and you avoided all the destruction, even if you couldn't prevent it. You have so much luck that you'll live for thousands of years on this shattered world. If you aren't actually immortal, it will feel like it. Enjoy your life; I'll enjoy my death."

A rumbling of rocket engines came and missiles started to appear in the sky. Ultra flew off to intercept them and managed to get most of them.

But it only takes one and as L'ordinatuer had said, luck is no replacement for a good plan.

The missile detonated in an airburst 500 feet over the base and Felicia met Ma'at in a nuclear fireball.