#I assumed the name was meant to be used as one name and not separate

[pronoun-checks]

hi, how are ya?

i would like a pronoun check for the name Arson-Snow with it/it/it/its/itself, shi/hir/hir/hirs/hirself, and vamp/vamp/vamp/vamps/vampself pronouns please!

No problem!

Oh, hey! There’s Arson-Snow! Do you see it over there? It’s the one sitting by itself with its headphones on. I wonder what it’s listening to? I hope hir day has been going well. You remember hir, right? I said I thought hir name was neat! Arson-Snow. Have you met hir before? I’ve only spoken with hir a few times, but shi seems like a nice person. I think shi comes here fairly often. I think you would get along with vamp. Do you think that bag by Arson-Snow’s feet belong to vamp? Oh, I hope not, because vamp’s leaving without it! We should go let vamp know, just in case it is vamps bag. Hey! Arson-Snow!

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Young President!Coriolanus Snow x Call Girl!Reader, Dom!Coriolanus

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is in himself his own warning. Dubcon, Noncon, choking, impact play, kissing, degradation, biting, p in v, breeding kink, creampie, talks of sex work, talks of past sex trafficking, talks of poisoning/murder

You stare out the pitch black tinted window as the driver of your black luxury car drives you to your destination, the Presidential Palace. You've been acting as President Coriolanus Snow's personal high class call girl for years. Well, ever since he became Head Gamemaker and saw you in Pluribus Bell’s illicit, but high end sex club.

Pluribus had acquired you when General Byzantine had put you up on the auction block after using you (and literally torturing you) as his personal fuckdoll. Despite looking like a broken piece of shit, hatred and fire burned in your beautiful eyes. According to Pluribus, it was the look in your eyes that made the old man buy you; put you in charge of the girls in his sex club.

So, basically, Pluribus made you a Madame. Not that you minded. Hell, it meant that you didn't have to fuck nutjob, crazy, overly kinky whackjob Capitol men anymore.

But when Coriolanus Snow came into the club, after being invited by Pluribus after breaking off an engagement (why things didn't work with the Cardew banking heir, Livia, you didn't know; didn't care either) and laid his icy blue eyes on you, well, he just knew that he had to have you.

At first you told Pluribus no when he approached you with Snow's request, but then the platinum blonde pretty boy cornered you with an offer you couldn't refuse. A private penthouse, your own car and driver, a black Amex, and never having to work another day if you agree to be at his beck and call as his personal call girl.

His high class girl, as he called you.

That was 5 years ago.

Yea…

At this rate you'll probably be President Snow's high class girl forever.

Hopefully he finds himself a wife so you can move on with your life. Maybe take all that money you have squirreled away and get a nice beach house somewhere in District 4. The weather's lovely there. Maybe you'll even find somebody to settle down with; even have a kid or two.

It'd be nice to be able to retire from whoring. You've been in the game since your family sold you at age 15 to pay off debts. You've been fucking for a living for a decade now; it's getting old.

But at least the President is the kindest out of all the men you've been with, which is saying something because Coriolanus is as cold as his name, Snow.

You're so far inside of your head that you don't even notice the car stop or your driver, Herbie open the door.

Herbie clears his throat, only.to announce, 'Ma’am, we're here.”, causing your self imposed spell over your mind to break.

“Thank you, Herbie.” You simply told him, stretching your hand out for him to help you out of the car.

“I'll be here waiting for you, Ma’am.” Your driver told you, shutting the door once you were out of the car.

“Thank you. I won't be long.” You politely assured Herbie before walking towards the side entrance of the Presidential Mansion, which was marked with a trellis of vining; blooming roses. The side entrance leads straight to Coriolanus' personal living quarters; of course you had the key for it.

Your black designer stilettos loudly echo against the marble as you walk up the white and gold staircase that separates the president's personal living room, sitting room, kitchen, and dining room from the bed chambers, bathrooms, and his private study. You've only ever been in his bedroom and the sitting room. Both were immaculate, so you assume that the rest of his living quarters in the presidential palace must be extravagant too.

One thing you've noted about President Coriolanus Snow over the last few years of knowing him is that he has high class taste. A posca taste, if you'll call it. The more expensive, the better.

And it's that trait of his that has you baffled about why he's kept you around so long to fulfill his needs. Surely he can find himself some young, beautiful, and naive high class twit from a rich family to groom into his perfect classy woman.

His First Lady.

Surely, he must be getting tired of paying for you- putting you up in a high end penthouse that's about a 5 or so minute drive from his palace. Back before he became president your place was literally the next building over from his. Yea, that's how classy and ritzy of a penthouse you're in.

“I'm in my room, darling.” Coriolanus called out to you as soon as your heels clicked against the marble of his second story floor.

No shit, he's in his room. He's always in his room. He's either sitting on the bed end settee or on his ornate sofa, but either way he's donning his waistcoat and smoking while waiting for you. The epitome of regal master.

“I’ll be right there, Coriolanus.” You called back, speeding up your steps slightly to reach the white and gold scrolled double doors of his chambers.

Opening the door and walking inside, you spot him lounging on his cream sofa. His legs are crossed and he has an arm lazily thrown over the back of the sofa’s ornate mahogany frame. Coriolanus’ platinum hair his in its natural curly state, which is a rarity, but also means that he ruined his slicked back look by running his hands thru his hair all day- something he does when frustrated or nervous. And, like always while awaiting your visit, he's smoking.

“Darling, I told you last time you were here to call me Coryo.” The President told you, reaching his arm out to tip his ashes into the crystal ashtray that's on the mahogany coffee table.

“I'm sorry, Coryo. I forgot.” You lied thru a smile, a smile that was so fake it wasn't even funny.

You didn't forget, you just don't want to call him nicknames. Not when you know that your arrangement has an expiration date; one that'll be coming up soon enough.

Sitting up, he pointed to you with his cigarette and said, “Show me what you wore for me tonight.”

He did this every time you came over for his booty call. It was a ritual you're used to. You'd be shocked if he didn't ask you to model the lingerie for him.

With a sultry smile, you untie and unbutton the long red trenchcoat you're wearing. “It's a new set that I bought the other day.” You inform Coriolanus while opening up the coat and letting it fall off your shoulders; onto the floor.

President Snow's mouth watered as he took in your form dressed up in a lacy black bustier and matching cheeky panties along with those black stilettos with the red bottoms- the ones that he loved seeing you in. He thought that those heels did wonders for your legs, legs that he loved to have wrapped around his body- whether he was fucking you or feasting on your cunt.

Snubbing his cigarette in the crystal ashtray and rising from the sofa, the president smirked, “I do enjoy it when you go lingerie shopping, my darling rose.” Striding over to you, only to circle you like a predator circle's it's prey, the regal platinum blonde looked at you hungrily. As if he's starving and you're a filet mignon.

Coriolanus stopped right in front of you, only to give you a smoldering look while unbuttoning his maroon waistcoat, his long fingers moving lithely. Shrugging off the vest and chucking it towards a nearby sitting chair, he closed the distance between you. His tall form towers over you; you know what he wants from you.

It's what he always wants from you.

You ran your hands over his chest, which was quite toned underneath his crisp white dress shirt, and pressed your lips to his Adam's apple. As you kissed a tantalizing trail down his neck and to the collar of his shirt, leaving blood red lips tip stains in your wake, his large hands snaked around you. His breathing was husky and lustful as you lifted your head up, staring straight into his baby blues, while unbuttoning his shirt. Your red nails a stark contrast to his shirt.

“I have a business trip I need to attend in 12.” Coriolanus said while you pushed his shirt off of him after opening it up. You just nodded, raking your red nails up and down his chest before tweaking his nipples. Just the way that he likes.

You thought that all talks of his meeting was over, so you leaned forward to kiss him, but he stopped you by lifting up one of his hands and grabbing your chin. “The mining bosses are having some issues with their workers meeting production goals; I'm leaving in the morning and you're coming with me.”

Your eyes went wide. You can't go to 12. No, you won't go to 12. You refuse to go back to that shit hole you once called home, where your family- that sold you into a life of sexual slavery to a brothel for money to pay off drinking debts- lives.

“I'm not going to 12, Coriolanus. We'll see each other when you get back.” You firmly told him.

Which wasn't what he wanted to hear. In fact, he wanted you to nod your head; maybe make a remark about needing to pack, and then get to fucking him. You refusing him was never in the cards.

You just dealt him a hand he wasn't expecting. But, President Snow's an excellent poker player; he'll make due with the cards you've just given him.

Coriolanus' large hand slipped from your chin only to grab your throat. His face dipped so close to yours that his hot breath, which smelt like smoke, mints, bourbon, and coffee, fanned over your face. “I'm not asking you, Y/N. I'm telling you that you're coming to District 12 with me.” His thumb pressed into your windpipe, not hard enough to cut off your breathing, but hard enough to make you wheeze and pay attention to him as he spoke in a cold, authoritarian tone. “I fucking own you, so when I tell you to do something you do it. You don't get to say no to me.”

President Snow looked like a crazed, disheveled mess as he chastised you. And you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on. Because it did.

Oh how it did. It might be wrong being turned on by a power hungry zealot who's telling you that you're his property, but the way he looked while doing it. Hot damn, it made your pussy pool; stain your black lacy panties with a wet patch.

Yea…you're pretty fucked up at this point in your life.

The platinum blonde's large hand slid from your hip over your lower belly, only to sneak under the waistband of your panties. He dipped his mouth to your ear, grabbing your pussy in his large calloused hands, while telling you, “I own this pussy, darling, and if I want to fuck it every goddamn day of my business trip then I sure as hell will.” Coriolanus bit your earlobe, hard enough to crack the pearl earring you're wearing.

An earring he bought you in the early days of your arrangement.

He pulled away, only to look at you darkly. Spitting the cracked pearl earring in your face, he pulled his hand out of your underwear. He brought his fingers up to his prominent nose, only to inhale your scent. His eyes fluttered shut and his face contorted into a look of pleasure. He was, for a lack of a better word, getting high off of your musk.

Oh yea, the President sure was something else…but who are you to judge? You're his personal whore, so…

His icy eyes popped open, with a lust filled crazed look, as he sucked his fingers one by one. Savoring the taste of your juices while keeping his tight hold on your neck with his other hand. His tongue swirled around his pinky, the last finger to be licked clean by him. “You taste divine. Too bad you need to be disciplined for your rude behavior and won't be having your cunt eaten by me tonight.”

“Disciplined for my rude behavior? Coryo, the only thing I did was tell you that I'm not going to 12.” You spoke up, standing your ground to your, for a lack of a better word, owner.

Coryo’s fingers pressed hard into your neck, no doubt leaving behind finger shaped bruises that would need covered up by IL MAKIAGE tomorrow. Looks like you'll have to make another trip to Sephora soon if you don't want to have bruises all over your neck shown off to the public. How embarrassing would that be, going to various stores with chokehold bruising all over your neck. You shudder at the thought of it.

“Talking back is rude behavior, baby.” He hissed before pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was hard and bruising. Biting your lower lip; drawing blood, he pulled away from the kiss. Giving you a dark, slightly unhinged look, the stoic platinum blonde swore, “Bad girls get spankings and you're going to get so many that you won't be able to sit on your red, hot ass tomorrow during our damn train ride.”

Coriolanus is sitting on the red velveteen settee at the end of his gold and red velvet framed bed. You're bent over his knees, ass up in the air while your head rests on the settee. Your arms are outstretched; your hands arm firmly grabbing the end of the red velvet material for purchase as the President smacks one ass cheek and then the other.

*Smack, smack*

Coriolanus chuckles at how red your ass is. He's been at this for a while now; both of you have lost count of how many times his hand has come down on your cheeks. He rubs the sting out of your red ass cheeks before raising his hand high up in the air and bringing it down on the right cheek, only to repeat the action on the left cheek.

*Smack, smack*

Your designer black heels are still on your feet, so they sway in the air as you kick out of reflex due to the spankings. God, he would make you keep the heels on for this. Hell, this spanking session seems to be the longest in your entire life with him. Usually he indulges in a slap or two to your ass while taking you from behind, but never anything like this.

But it could be worse. He could be a crazy, torture hungry, fucking sadist like that crazy ass General Byzantine was. The man who beat you within an inch to your life and put you up on the auction block once a couple of his Avoxes had nurtured you to suitable health.

You were overjoyed when he died about 4-4 ½ years ago. All the media outlets say that General Byzantine died from tainted tea at one of the popular tea houses in the Capitol. Apparently Coriolanus was there with him, having a meeting for political purposes since he was running for Senate and nearly died. You remember that he had canceled your sessions for a week, but still put a hefty sum in your bank account; even requested that you wear a certain color lingerie (blood red) when you resumed your little booty calls with him once he recovered from nearly dying from tainted tea.

Your black lacy cheeky panties slid up your ass crack from the force of all the spankings. Coriolanus didn't say a word, just silently righted the panties before landing another pair of smacks to your ass cheeks, causing you to let out a loud squeal.

“Did my bad baby girl learn her lesson, or do you need more?” President Snow asked, his ardent tone a bit dark and mocking as he soothed your ass by rubbing it- with both palms this time.

“I've learnt my lesson, Mister President, Sir.” You told him, choking back a moan as you grew wetter and wetter from his hands just rubbing the sting out of your ass. Oh God, how your core aches for his cock.

Coriolanus let out a deep, throaty moan at your answer. He loves it, fucking loves it when you call him Mister President and Sir. Oh, and put them both together- yea he's fucking feral.

The president slightly opened your legs, only to swipe a long finger up your wet, clothed center. “Oh, darling, you're soaked.” He proudly announced. “Is that all for me?” Coriolanus rhetorically asked, already knowing that it was all for him.

You knew that the platinum president didn't need an answer, but decided to indulge him with one anyway. “Yes, Coryo. It's always for you.”

Coryo bent down and peppered your beet red ass with kisses. The plushness of his lips against your hot sensitive skin makes you squirm. Chuckling, Coriolanus sat up and pulled your heels off, one by one, and let them fall to the floor with a loud thud. He helped you stand on your feet, only to pull down your panties and toss you onto the bed.

As you lay on your stomach, head buried in his pillow, which smelled like him- like roses, you heard the sound of Coryo slipping out of his black floor shines while unbuckling his belt. You peeked over your shoulder, only to see him quickly unzipping his maroon pants. You turned back around, resting your head back on his pillow, as he quickly shed his pants and boxer briefs.

“Lift your ass up high for me and spread your legs as wide as they'll go, baby.” The President ordered you, to which you obliged him. Your ass was raw and stung, but your pussy was throbbing with need, as Coryo kneeled right behind you on his king sized bed. “Fuck, you're always such a needy lil slut for me, darling.” He remarked upon seeing your cunt dripping and glistening for him.

Looking over your shoulder, you smirked, “Only for you, Coryo, my Mister President.”

The platinum blonde's icy eyeballs nearly rolled into the back of his head at your words. Words that went straight to his cock, making it harder- if that was even possible.

“Yes, I'm your President and you're my perfect, pretty, lil slut.” Coriolanus groaned, teasing your clit with the angry, red, leaky tip of his cock. “You remember that the next time I tell you to do something, baby girl.” He said, grabbing your hips and snapping forward; sheathing his entire 8 inches into your soaking wet cunt. “Fuck, darling, you're so goddamn tight for me.” Coriolanus groaned, pulling out only to surge forward, causing you to mewl out in pleasure.

President Coriolanus Snow has a big cock and he sure does know how to use it. That's for sure. And you let him know that too.

“Of course I'm tight for you, Coryo. You're the biggest cock I've had, the only man whose tip kisses my cervix; whose girth stretches me out with a delicious sting.” You honestly tell him, stroking his ego and making him start to pound into you relentlessly.

Hearing you say that out of all the men that you've had in your whoring career that he's the biggest and the best makes his heart soar with overwhelming pride. So much so, that he'll just have to keep you around.

Permanently.

Coryo doesn't think that you'll have any protests about it. Maybe he'll bring up the idea while you're away on business in 12. Use the time away as both a vacation and a business trip. There is a vacant cabin in the woods that he knows of by a lake that could be a setting for a romantic night or two.

“Oh…fuck…Coryo…” You moan into the pillow that you're holding onto for dear life as you surge forward with every hard, fast thrust Coryo gives you.

“You like it when I fuck you face first in the mattress like a dirty fucking slut, don't you darling?” He groans, rutting even faster while placing a hand on the middle of your back; pushing you further down into the mattress. “Fuck, you're so sexy like this, baby.” The President huffs. “So fucking sexy.”

You moan into the pillow, but it comes out in a heap of garbled drools, as Coryo's cock hits that special spongy spot deep inside of you while his heavy cum filled balls slap against your swollen, neglected clit.

“That's it, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock, you pathetic slut.” Coriolanus encouraged in a half groan as you began to meet his thrust with ones of your own. You could help it, you needed to cum so badly. Fucking yourself on his cock while he pounded you was the only way to do that.

Turning your head, so that the side of your face rest on his drool soaked pillow, you mewl and whine, “So close, Coryo. I'm so close.” Feeling that coil in your lower belly tighten, you beg, “Please, let me cum, Mister President. Please, make me cum.”

Coryo quickly unhooked the long row of clasps that held your black lacy bodice together while cooing, “Don't worry, my pretty baby, I'll make you cum” The bodice fell off your shoulders, but Coryo slipped his arm around your middle and pulled you up on your knees, only to yank the black bustier off of you; tossing it to the side.

Coryo's hands instantly grabbed hold of your tits as he continued to harshly fuck you. His hands squeezed them roughly and pinched your nipples, all the while your hands clawed his wrists for leverage as he felt your climax coming on. Coriolanus knows you're close by how your cunt's clenching around his cock. “Fucking cum for me, darling.” he ordered, biting the crook of your neck.

The feel of his teeth roughly nipping your skin, only to use his tongue to soothe it, paired with his deep, erratic thrusts, his heavy balls slapping against your clit deliciously, and his large, calloused hands roughly fondling, had you cumming with a loud moan. A moan that was a string of curses mixed with his name: Coryo.

He fucked you thru your orgasm only to shove you back down onto the bed and plunge his cock hard and fast into you. His pounding was so relentless as he chased his own release that you felt another orgasm on the cusp. Oh gods, his cock felt so fucking good hitting you on all the right spots.

Oh fuck…

“I'm gonna fuck you full with my heirs, baby.” Coryo panted, his thrust becoming sloppy. “Can't wait to fucking knock you up; see your belly swell with my growing baby inside.” He babbled as his hands roughly held onto your shoulders for leverage. “You're gonna look so beautiful all round and full of my baby, my darling rose.”

You didn't pay him any mind. Didn't say a word about his string of impossible words. You're on birth control, so his fantasy of knocking you up is just that. A fantasy. A breeding kink, to be politically correct.

Coriolanus’ hips stuttered, once, twice, three times before he was moaning, “Fuck, Y/N, baby. Fuck…”, and filling your pussy with hot ropes of his thick cum.

Feeling his hot cum spurting into your womb sent you over the edge. “Coryo…” You mewled, cumming for a second time.

He didn't stop and pull out like he usually did.

No…

This time, Coriolanus kept fucking you. He fucked his load right into your pussy, causing you to let out a shaky moan from both overstimulation and your third orgasm of the night.

Coryo finally pulled out, but only after filling you up with a second load of his thick, hot cum. Cum that was somehow leftover in his balls from the first time.

The President smugly grinned as he watched his second load of the night slowly drip out of your puffy, abused pussy- looking like beautiful white pearls.

Ah, pearls. That reminds him…

“I bought you a new jewelry set for the trip. Fancier pearls than the ones you had; they're packed in your bag.” Coriolanus told you, sitting by your side and rubbing your back as you lay on the bed like a ragdoll.

Ugh. Of course, he bought you new things, including luggage, and packed them up for the damn trip to District 12- your personal hell- that he's dragging you on.

When you didn't say a word, Coryo pushed the strands of sweat soaked hair away from your face and asked, “Are you alright, baby?”

Pushing his hand away from your face, you simply assured him, “Yea, I'm fine.”

Nodding, he told you, “I'll call your driver, tell him that you're staying the night; then I'll run us a bath.”

You've never stayed the night before, prompting you to ask, “Why're you letting me stay the night with you, Coryo?”, as he stood up.

“We're needed at the train station bright and early, Y/N. It's just easier for you to stay here so we can head out together in the morning.” The President explained before taking off to do the things he told you about.

Of course, he wanted you to stick around tonight so he can make sure that you're on that train with him heading to 12 in the morning. You're his personal high class girl. His glorified whore. If President Coriolanus Snow wants you with him tonight to ensure that you step on that train with him tomorrow, so he can fuck you during his stupid business trip in hell, then that's what he's going to get.

You don't have a say in the matter. You're just around until he gets bored of you; finds something younger and prettier to satisfy his carnal desires with.

Only you thing you don't know is that President Coriolanus Snow’s never going to get bored of you or trade you in for a younger model. In fact he thinks you're the best girl he's ever had.

Hell, the devil himself knows that the President killed for you- even if you don't know it.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons

[tojiscumdumpster]

⠀ ⠀⠀ "unwanted" MATRIMONY

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀byakuya kuchiki.

✧ summary to preserve the existence of y/n's clan, she is forced to wed the twenty-eighth head of the kuchiki clan—byakuya kuchiki.

✧ content warnings reader is described as a black woman who uses she/her pronouns. clanhead!reader x captain!byakuya. bleach verse au (no manga spoilers) byakuya is a noble, so they'll both be speaking as such. lowkey giving royalty au vibes. told in first POV — reader's. tropes included: arranged marriage, childhood rivals to lovers. usage of c*nt, missionary position, fingering, nipple play, praise and breeding kink, primal play, terms of endearment — blossom, my love, etc. plot with smut, fluff, and a touch of angst if you squint hard enough. lengthy, but the build up is worth it and necessary!

✧ author's note i don't have much to say, but here's to adding more bleach men to my roster. i knew i wanted to write for byakuya because that's my baby daddy, and now i finally have this idea i hope you guys enjoy. support me by reblogging, liking, and commenting your thoughts. i would greatly appreciate it. ♡ MINORS AND BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS - DO NOT INTERACT.

 I must make my days do, lazing around in my private chambers as I am bound to a marriage I wanted no parts of. Especially not with Byakuya Kuchiki. 

 Lord Byakuya, as he prefers me to call him.

 Because I am the current and possibly the final head of the L /N Clan, I am forced to complete my duties as such. Those duties entailed me following through with my grandparents final wish: get married and keep our family name alive. 

 Which I have no issue with fulfilling. 

 My dreams are filled with having children with a man that loves me. To extend our family and grow old together where our souls will find each other in another life. 

 However, I hadn’t planned my marriage to be an arrangement that I wasn’t aware of because of an agreement our grandfathers had prior to me being born. 

 It’s shocking, honestly. More so, ludicrous for them to think this was okay. But I just couldn’t deny my grandfather. Not when his palm was in mine, lacking its warmth that’s usually there due to his near passing. 

 I remember tears staining my cheeks and a smile gracing his when he made his final request for me. 

 That was two years ago. Now, I am married. Have been for almost a year and every day I dread my decision. 

 How could I possibly wed a man as cold as Byakuya Kuchiki? We barely speak. We sleep in separate chambers. The most we see each other is during dinner because it would be ridiculous to have the servants prepare us food at different times. But even so, the silence and tension always remains deafening.

 And to make matters worse, we have yet to consummate our marriage. 

 This is something I cannot possibly do on my own. He may or may not be attracted to me, and I am convinced to assume the latter because he never utters a look in my direction. 

 It’s shameful how he treats me. The words he spoke to me the night of our ceremony is a constant memory I do my best to forget but cannot. 

 I’m officially married. Not the way I expected to be, but what other choice do I have? Grandfather has died and I made a promise to him to marry and bear children to keep the L /N Clan everlasting. Even if that meant being forced into marriage with my childhood rival. 

 As we sit side-by-side next to each other, bowing and thanking all of our guests for their blessings, I feel the coldness radiating off Byakuya. Of course, one of us has to be graceful and fake smiles while greeting everyone, so I am left to the task. 

 Byakuya? He doesn’t hide how dissatisfied he is with how this night is going. 

 To an extent, I understand. Forcing to wed after the loss of his wife, Hisana, is not ideal. Despite it being centuries since her soul has passed, I’m almost positive the heartbreak is still present. 

 Maybe tonight reminds him of her? 

 “Byakuya—what is the matter? Is everything alright?” I inquired. I turn to face him and await a response. 

 The squareness of his jawline catches my attention and I think how it was carved by the gods themselves. I’ve known Byakuya since we were both children, and seeing the fine man he has grown into today never ceases to amaze me. 

 His profile is… beautiful. I’m mesmerized by the softness of his pale complexion and how it contrasts with the darkness of his raven colored locks. 

 The further I stare at him, the more heat floods underneath my cheeks and my mouth watering at the sight of his beauty. 

 But when he finally speaks, all of the emotions I’ve felt have completely diminished. 

 “Do you feel no shame being forced into a marriage where your partner feels nothing for you?”

 Since then, I’ve kept my distance from him. I remember the pain that pinged my chest when processing the words that left his mouth. I remember rushing to my chambers after the ceremony and crying until it felt like a million shards of glass were piercing them. 

 Yes, I feel ashamed. But I never expected Byakuya to be so direct with me. He’s certainly not the young boy I remember growing up with. Where we would make everything into a competition. 

 Our swordsmanship. Our knowledge. Our abilities. Whatever can be turned into a challenge for us, Byakuya and I competed. 

 That led him to be a captain of the Gotei Thirteen and twenty-eighth head of the Kuchiki Clan. And me, the twenty-third head of my family. I initially wanted to enter the Shin’ō Academy along with Byakuya, but I chose to stay with my family and oversee our medicine and agriculture. 

 However, even when he entered the academy, he always made time to see me because we were friends before any juvenile competition we made. 

 So why can he not see his wrongdoings in our marriage? Could he at least try for the sake of me fulfilling my duties? 

 All that keeps me company are movements of the servants coming in and out of my chambers, along with the river that flows past my view. 

 As always, dinner is silent. 

 Byakuya has returned to the manor after attending his captain duties, and this is the only time of day where I see him. He is stripped from his formal wear and has been dressed in a simple dark blue yukata that has specks of cherry blossoms scattered across the garment. 

 If I didn’t loathe him so much, I could take my time appreciating how handsome he looks while being in the comfort of his manor. His locks are released from the kenseikan he wears that symbolizes his nobility as the head of the Kuchiki Clan. 

 I occasionally steal glances at him while he eats, and yes, while I do despise being in this forced marriage just as he does, I can’t help but be captivated by him.

 My lady parts wouldn’t allow me to deny the attraction. 

 As I watch my beloved husband, I think of all the sexual acts I would like for him to do to me. Please me in ways I could only imagine he can do. Make love to me and whisper in my ear how breathtaking I am.

 When I look at Byakuya, I think of all the times I’ve spent time with Lady Kyōraku and she tells me how madly in love she is with Captain Kyōraku. How well he treats her, and even with his demands in his new position, they spend much quality time together. 

 She even graced my ears with a few details about a picnic session they recently had where it led to activities that typically aren't done out in public.

 I wonder if my husband will ever be reckless enough to do an act as obscene as that. 

 Not likely. 

 I hate quiet, especially while we eat together. What is the purpose if no words will be spoken amongst each other? No eye contact. No going to bed together after we have finished. Why? 

 Why am I not able to be served dinner in my private chambers? Surely, I can make a request for this going forward. 

 Or… perhaps there is a different way for me to get him to speak. 

 I take a sip of my cremè sake before clearing my throat. “How did your day treat you, my lord?”

 “It was fine,” he responds, flatly. Should I be shocked that he didn’t lift his chin when speaking to me? 

 “There is something I would like to discuss with you.”

 “It can wait. I’m not up for discussion at the moment.” His dismissive tone has annoyance leaching onto my flesh, and I feel like I am on the verge of exploding.

 “Perhaps it cannot. I would like to discuss something with you, my husband.” The authority in my voice grabs his attention and finally, he looks up at me and catches my hardened gaze. 

 He deeply sighs, sitting down his bowl of rice and chopsticks. “What is it?”

 “Maybe we should… begin the process of annulment.”

 His face remains calm. Expressionless, like I always remembered. Does he care enough to show a reaction to me asking for a cancellation of our marriage? 

 This shouldn’t be a difficult decision for him, so why is he taking his time to respond? 

 The longer I wait, the more his lack of response bothers me. It’s not similar to before, where the quiet was filled by the sounds of us eating and the servants coming in to check on us.

 No, it’s the silence where if he does not speak, I will make the decision for him and walk out and permanently leave the manor.

 I think of all the conversations I’ve had with Lady Rukia, his younger sister. And Renji, his lieutenant, about how I should be patient with Byaykuya. That, eventually, he will come around and warm up to me being his wife. 

 But how long?

 How long would it take for us to share a chamber? For us to act like we’re in this agreement together? For him to look at me with the same attraction I have for him?

 How long? 

 It possibly couldn’t be more than a year. 

 This is not the Byakuya Kuchiki I grew up with. No, I wasn’t in his life those five years he was wedded to Hisana due to my own family issues. Maybe I could’ve been there for him and witnessed his change that caused him to be so apathetic. 

 However, this cold man that sits before me… I don’t know who he is.

 “Is there someone else you’re interested in?” He finally speaks, breaking me from my musings. 

 I draw my brows together, confused at his accusation. “Are you… insinuating that I am having an affair?”

 “We’ve been wedded for a year. No acts of intimacy have been done between us. Now suddenly you—”

 “Because of you!” My voice roars, interrupting whatever nonsense that he was about to spew. 

 I refuse to allow him to put the blame on me for the stillness in our marriage. I have tried, time after time, and all I am met with is a man that constantly rejects any type of advances I attempt to provide him.

 So, I continue. 

 “I have given you a year, Byakuya,” I begin, standing over him. He looks up at me and again, his expression remains undetectable. “The day of our ceremony, I have accepted that I will be your lady, and on that night, I was prepared for consummation. But what did you do instead? Humiliate me in front of all our guests with your trivial question!”

 My chest heaves an adrenaline I haven’t felt in a while. Maybe even never, however, leave it to Byakuya to rile me up this way. 

 “If you or anyone thinks I will bear children with a man that looks at me with utter disgust, then you all are sadly mistaken.” Are my last words to him before I rush out the supper room, tears threatening to fall, reminding me of the night we wedded. 

 I feel like such a fool. Disgrace descends upon me and my mind quickly goes to my grandfather and the words he spoke to me on his deathbed. Be strong, child, and fulfill your duties as the current head of the L /N Clan. Bear beautiful children with Young Byakuya and fall effortlessly in love. 

 Oh, grandfather. What am I to do? I can no longer stand to be in this marriage. Not like this. 

 Not with Byakuya. 

 By this time already, I had returned to my chambers and began preparing for bed. I allowed my emotions to get the best of me tonight, so some sleep will do me good. 

 But my suggestion of annulment will continue in the morning. 

 Just as I was moisturizing my body, a knock at the door interrupts my nightly routine and I immediately grow annoyed. 

 I know it isn’t one of the servants checking on me. They know when I don’t want to be bothered with. So that leaves the man that’s responsible for my current state of mind. 

 Ignore him, I say to myself. He’ll think I’m asleep and eventually leave. But no. He barges into my chambers, unannounced, and shuts the door behind him. 

 “Excuse me. I don’t recall giving you permission to en—”

 “Do you think this is easy for me?” He asks, paying no mind to my protests. “Being… married to you.”

 I turned my back to him and continued with the task I was doing before he interrupted. “Save me the boredom and keep it to yourself. No need to further remind—”

 “For a year… I have been… fighting these emotions. These… feelings that have been forming in my chest at the thought of you being my lady.” His admission shocks me… but I remain quiet and stare at him intently through my mirror and allow him to finish. “Do you wish to know how I feel about you, Lady Y/N?”

 My chest slowly heaves up and down and I hold eye contact with him. “How?” I breathed. 

 “You interfere with my routine. Daily… weekly… monthly. Just the thought of you has my mind spiraling.” He moves closer to me with every word he speaks. “A noble. A clan head such as myself, loses all sense of control with just a whiff of your scent. Your jasmine scent that drives me utterly insane. I simply cannot act with honor when I’m around you, so I purposely choose to ignore you.”

 “But… why?” I questioned. 

 “Because you are you, my lady. You may think I don’t keep my eyes on you, but I do. All day… every day. I… watch you sit by the river and simply smile at the sight of nature. From a distance, I hear how kind you are when you speak to others. It’s… enchanting.”

 I slowly release a breath and swallow a thick gulp. “So why is that you don’t speak to me? If I’m, as you stated, enchanting?”

 “Speaking is not what I wish to do with you when we are alone,” he admits. Arousal rushed between my legs at the true meaning of his statement. 

 “It is hard for me to believe that you have an attraction toward me, Lord Byakuya.” As if my words triggered him, he takes long strides to close the distance between us. 

 “Perhaps it’s because you do not look at me the way you look at others. I, too, should be questioning your attraction toward me.”

 I stand to meet with him, but fail miserably due his tall frame towering me. Still, I stand firm with my gaze. “Others such as who?”

 “Shūhei Hisagi,” he deadpans. 

 “You’re being ridicu—”

 “That smile… Your eyes… The look you give him… you have never looked at me that way before. He personally delivers the newsletter to our manor, which he doesn’t have to, but he does for you.”

 “Are you… jealous? Of the small interactions I have with Hisagi a few times throughout the week?”

 It is hard for me to believe that the honorable Byakuya Kuchiki himself is getting flared up over a platonic friendship between Hisagi and I. 

 Sure, there may be a chance he feels more for me than I know, judging by how his cheeks stain a light pink color when he delivers the newsletter. 

 But in no shape or form do I feel the same way, and I would never stoop as low as stepping out in my marriage. Even if my husband treats me like I am a fly on the wall. 

 Though, now, as he stands before me, slightly flustered, nostrils flaring, and a pinched expression—Byakuya is in fact—jealous. 

 I do not know how to feel about this, but I do know it is better than the distance I was getting before. 

 “Does this,” he grabs my hand to slip between us so I can feel his hardened erection, causing me to suck in a breath, “feel like I hold no attraction to you?”

 “Byakuya,” I barely said above a hushed tone. 

 He presses his forward against mine, whispering, “Everyday… I curse myself for these feelings I have for you, to the point where I attempt to avoid you yet fail horribly because I can’t help but watch you from afar.” His hand gently runs up and down my arm, and this bit of contact burns warmth to my flesh. 

 “I feel wrong. Felt, wrong for having such feelings for you, knowing my late Hisana has passed away. I thought my heart went along with her illness, however, you returned to my life unexpectedly.”

 I lick my lips before asking, “Are you saying you… love me, my lord?”

 “I desire you, my lady. Crave you in ways that make me want to act animalistic.” His lips ghost over mine before he falls to my neck and inhales heavily. “I’ve always wanted to know what it is like to have you on my tongue. To hear you beg for me to give you more than what I am giving.”

 “My lord… please.” 

 He shushes me. “Your beauty is beyond words. I have… never seen a rich, deep, golden brown complexion such as yours. You hold yourself with grace, but I know you’re a minx underneath these silk garments.”

 He begins trailing faint kisses along my flesh until meeting with my face once more. I stare at him and take advantage of his ash-colored hues that resemble the sky on a cloudy day. 

 I don’t recall ever being this close in proximity to Byakuya. I’m enthralled by the smoothness of his skin and the color of his lips that reminds me of a thousand cherry blossoms. 

 I want to kiss him. I, too, also want to know what it feels like to have the taste of him on my tongue. Just—

 “May I kiss you, Y/N?” The octave of his voice, slightly lower than usual, breathy with a touch of desperation… it does something to my core. 

 His cheeks flush red and my eyes widen at the sight of him. It feels like this is a fantasy, a moment I thought I would only see in my dreams. He is completely vulnerable, stipped down to where he forgets the formalities and calls my name. He is like this for me because of me. 

 When he is like this–I do not loathe him.

 “You may.”

 Byakuya gently presses his mouth against mine, our lips merely touching as if he is skeptical about what he is doing. He pulls back to look at me and I know desperation is shown on my face. And I know he feels the same.

 How he engulfs my arm with his hand, applying immense pressure to show his desire for me tells me so. 

 My breaths are staggered. I’m thinking, what will he do next? Will he turn around and return to his chambers, regretting this moment ever happened? No. He does not. 

 He caresses my nose with his, breathing me in before meeting with my lips once more. 

 This time, he cuffs my face and deepens our kiss. My hands latched  onto his wrist to hold him in place because I will not allow him to show any skepticism once again. 

 Byakuya takes his time exploring my mouth, but a touch of eagerness is shown when his tongue slips inside of me to get more. Heat hums throughout my body and I feel wetness pooling between my thighs due to the lack of under garments I am not wearing. 

 Is this what it feels like to kiss him? Is it normal for my limbs to grow weak? As if he read my thoughts, he sweeps me off the ground and wraps my legs around his waist. Our heads move side-to-side in unison while we devour each other’s grunts and moans. 

 We head in the direction to my futon and ever so lightly, he lays me down and pulls away from me. 

 “Strip for me.” His order is soft but filled with dominance I can’t be anything but submissive to. 

 I untie my silk robe, slowly until it falls off my shoulders and bares my body. His eyes… where I know Byakuya to be calm and collective during battle, right now a beast rages through him, and I am his prey that he is ready to feast on. 

 My legs spread, revealing my sex that is moist beyond measure. A growl forms in the pit of Byakuya’s stomach and it spreads chills down my spine.

 He palms my breasts while gazing at me and I shudder from his touch. I could believe that this is in fact a dream, but it is not. 

 No longer than a second later, and he pinches my nipple between his fingers. 

 “My lord,” I softly cried, arching my back. 

 “You are art, Y/N.”

 “Address me as your lady,” I demanded. 

 “Apologies, Lady Y/N.” He leans forward to press a quick kiss to my lips. “Is there anything else you would like for me to do?”

 “Strip for me as well,” I instructed, teasingly. 

 His yukata drapes low on his hips and I am met with his slender build. Squared shoulders. A trimmed waist. And an abdomen where I would enjoy rubbing my wetness along that leads to what will bring me pleasure tonight. 

 He stands to completely remove his garments and my mouth floods at the sight of him. His groin, hard and veiny, drips liquid that I’m yearning to taste. 

 Byakuya, as expected, is well trimmed, but leaves just enough hair, perfect to my liking. 

 He’s much larger than I imagined. A size I need time adjusting to, that’s for certain. 

 “Am I up to your liking?” He quips. 

 I hum, tugging my bottom lip between my teeth. “Perhaps.”

 The smallest chuckle, almost faint, escapes his mouth. “Perhaps…” He mocks, catching onto the lie that I uttered. 

  He kneels down before me and sucks my lower lip into his mouth while he widens my legs even further to bring pleasure to my cunt. Those slender fingers, so long and delicate, slip inside of me and I mewl at the slight intrusion. He massages my walls as if he is exploring, attempting to familiarize himself with how I pulsate around his fingers. 

 I break our kiss to moan his name, and my lord takes advantage of the opening to plunge his tongue in the back of my throat and sink deeper into my cunt. 

 I never expected Byakuya to be well equipped with his fingers this way. Those same fingers that are used for battle are currently being used to bring me to my release. 

 Soon, his lips find the valley of my breasts where he leaves bruises on my flesh with teeth. I whimper so pathetically, shocking myself at the sound that leaks from me. 

 He sucks on my nipples greedily, like a starved man that’s hungry for his lover, and this time, I let out a moan of his name. 

 “Byakuya…”

 He looks at me through his lashes and firmly grips my breast. “Remember, my lady. Address me as your lord.”

 “I am sorry, my lord. Please… I can no longer wait. I want to come.”

 “Where is that fire that was present earlier? Begging?” I clench around his fingers at the sound of him taunting me. 

 He flickers his digits quicker inside of me, pulling such obscene noises from my cunt that mingles with my moans and his praises in my chambers. 

 Byakuya, this time, does not kiss me. No, instead, he ogles me and gently holds my chin in place where I am forced to watch him deliver me a release I’ve been waiting a year for. 

 There was a time where I thought he didn’t have an ounce of attraction to me, and now here he is, pleasing me in a way I haven’t been before. 

 “Oh, Lord Byakuya… I… I’m about to come. I feel a release coming,” I purred. 

  “But I have barely touched you, blossom.”

 I latched onto his wrist and rolled my hips to meet his fingers thrusting inside of my cunt. “I—I know. I’ve been waiting for this… for so long.”

 “You’ve fantasized about me bringing you pleasure?” I nod, causing a small smirk to form on his lips. “Tell me more, Lady Y/N. What else do you want? Would you like my shaft inside your tight cunt?”

 “Yes.”

 “Tell you how breathtaking you look while being filled with me?”

 “Oh, yes. Yes, Lord Byakuya.”  

 The faintest, most gentle kiss is placed on the side of my mouth and I feel the tension at the bottom of my stomach unraveling.

 “Are you prepared to bear my children? To have my come flooding your cunt until it drips out?” He ghosts over my ear. “Will you take me?”

 “Bya… kuya…” My orgasm suddenly crept onto me and I’ve created a mess on his hand. 

 I throw my head back and moan to the gods above. I can’t stop shaking and he continues to pump his fingers inside of me. 

 For a year I thought this man loathed me, but tonight I am proved otherwise. 

 Lord Byakuya has described himself as a madman when he is around me, and it is shown when he doesn’t permit me the time to come down from my release before guiding his cock to my entrance. 

 I look between us, anticipating the moment he enters my body and wondering how I will take him. 

 He attempts to push himself inside, but is met with interference and clicks his tongue. Frustrated at the constriction of my cunt because his cock is aching to feel my walls. 

 “I see she is as stubborn as you are,” he taunts. 

 I slyly smirk at him. “Giving up—Ohh…”

 Byakuya does not allow me to finish my retort before giving me one long thrust between my folds to completely stuff me. My brows knits together at the slight intrusion and hint of pain that’s mended by my wetness. 

 I’m… stretched. How could he fit? He’s so… big. Large. I feel his veins pleasurably grazing me when he slowly begins to pull in and out. My cunt molds around his cock like he’s all she knows and I gasp with every movement. 

 My thighs are pushed back so he could see all of me, to see how I’m swallowing him whole. He swears underneath his breath and seeing Byakuya so vulnerable like this has me pulsating. 

 “You… are amazing, my lady. This cunt of yours… It's perfect,” he declares. “For a year you have been keeping this from me?”

 “More, my lord. Give me a bit more.”

 “So desperate for my come, are you?”

 I eagerly nod and grip his forearms to take his pounding. He wastes no time acquiescing to my request, increasing his thrusts to pull such lewd noises from me.

  I’m almost embarrassed by the loudness of my dripping sex. I’m practically making a mess on my futon and I’m mortified that the servants will need to replace my sheets. 

 Again, his mouth and hands are back on my breast, sucking and circling my nipples until they ache. Byakuya alternates between the two to show equal amounts of love and I have never felt so overwhelmed.

 He drives into me with so much passion while marking me with his teeth and alleviating the pain with his tongue. 

 “When I breed you, you will be completely mine, my love. You will be full of me, carrying my child,” he rasps, rutting into me with more force. “How many will you give me?”

 I gasped. “As many as you want, Lord Byakuya. Just please… make me come again. I feel it approaching.”

 “So come for me, blossom.”

 His thrusts are harsher than before. The head of his cock repeatedly presses my sweet spot and I feel the spark of electricity tingling in my lower back. My breasts are still occupied by his mouth, but they move obnoxiously with the rhythm of his poundings. 

 I cry his name, scream to my lord how wonderful this feels and tears prick the corner of my eyes. His free hand that was on my breast moves to thumb my clit to aid with my near release. 

 Byakuya moans soon joins mine to tell me how my cunt squeezes his cock, nearly strangling. And if it were to lose circulation, I would be the cause. But does he not feel how he throbs inside of me? 

 How he hopes to breed me so we will be bound for life? 

 “You asked me earlier… if I love you. Would you still like to know?”

 “Yes, Byakuya. Tell me… do you?”

 “I do,” he simply answers. “Since the day I saw you staring at the river and smiling at the water flowing. How could I not love you?” He brushes his lips across mine and lowers his voice. “How could I not love you after having you like this? Having your beautiful body, every dip and curve bare underneath me?”

 “Lord Byakuya… I’m coming.”

 “And you sound beautiful when my name drips from your lips. Continue calling me your lord until I have filled you with my come.”

 Over and over, he rocks into me at a frenzied pace, causing my orgasm to burst out of me. Tears stain my cheeks and arousal prickles my flesh from my overwhelming release. However, Byakuya does not let up until his thrusts are uncoordinated, indicating his own climax.

 Coming together as lovers for the first time after our ceremony has me seeing stars in my chambers. His load… it’s heavy. Hot and sticky. It mingles with my own come and creates a mess between us.

 Lord Byakuya, too, is a vocal lover. He comes down from his own release and whispers how ethereal I am. How he would never grow tired of pleasing me and filling my cunt. 

 But it’s the delicacy of him brushing my coils away from my face and placing soft kisses on my cheeks that causes my heart to skip a beat. 

 An hour has already passed, and we have been basking in each other’s presence. His embrace is comforting. It provides me with a warmth that was well needed to fill the coldness beside me when I slept alone at night for the past year. 

 “I’m sorry,” he says, breaking the silence. 

 I know the reason for his apology, but ask anyway. “For what, my lord?”

 “For the discomfort I have provided you since our engagement. You didn’t deserve that… Before anything, you were a dear childhood companion of mine and I treated you horribly.”

 His kind words move me. I place my palm against his cheek and look up at him. “We can discuss it some more later on. For now, I would like to enjoy your company. Is that okay?”

 He kisses the top of my head and pulls me further into his arms. “Of course, my lady… Of course.”

thank you for reading. reblogs, comments, and likes are well appreciated. if you enjoy my work, please be sure to check our my masterlist for more. ෆ

[leonw4nter]

Lovebirds (of Prey)

Husband!DI!Leon x F!Reader

Here you are, quietly hanging out in the darker corners of an old-money party and waiting for Leon to arrive. Parties were never your scene and though you’d avoid being in one, duty calls and now you find yourself being dragged to one. You weren’t just assigned to be someone lurking in the darkness and carefully waiting for the time, no; you were assigned to be a bellhop and gather people’s coats and valuables before they entered the party proper. Unfortunately for you, you and Leon wouldn’t be able to come in as a couple to read people and the room for the neo Umbrella bioweapon trader you’re assigned to take into custody. You protested to your boss about this arrangement, especially that you and Leon are literally married. Just like you did, he also protested against this but you two had no choice but to accept this arrangement.

“I’m sorry baby. I know this will be slightly awkward for us both but it’s just for a mission right? I promise that this is the first and last time we’ll have something like this,” Leon reassures you as he drives you both home.

“Yeah. Don’t tell this to the kids, they’ll think we’re separating,” you softly respond. With a soft sigh, you unbutton the topmost button and lean against the window as you mindlessly stare at the cars speeding past.

“Yeah,” Leon responds. He puts a large hand on your thigh, giving you a comforting squeeze even if he keeps his eyes trained on the road and the other hand on the wheel. “I love you honey. You know that?”

“Yeah, I love you too.”

A few hours later, you two send the kids over to your parents’ house before suiting up for the mission: Leon in a sharp suit and you in your bellhop uniform. You fitted all straps and subtle holsters, making sure they were secure and well-concealed in the clothing you guys wore. Leon handed you the earpieces and cuff mics, making sure they were also well-hidden. Since Leon will be entering the party via the main entrance where everyone else is required to enter through, he will enter unarmed but with connections to the expertly placed agents throughout the party he’ll be able to arm himself while looking for the target, a neo Umbrella genetic engineer named Svetlana Noble. You two left separately, sharing a kiss and words of good luck before leaving the door and heading for your destinations.

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A few hours later, you’re lugging around dense fur coats and several car keys as you head to the storeroom of the guests’ belongings. You haven’t seen Svetlana yet and Hunnigan hasn’t given her a signal yet so you safely assumed that she isn’t around yet although you reminded the other agents planted around the scene to stay sharp. A sleek black Aston Martin DB9 Carbon Black pulls up into the driveway, which catches your attention but you don’t pay it much attention. That is, until you heard Leon’s voice.

“My lady,” he says in a low voice, though his words are not meant for you. You turn your head and see another lady, a fellow agent, take his hand and exit from her side of the car. She looks beautiful: her glossy hair that fell until her tailbone straightened, elegant glitter makeup highlighting her features, and a matching black dress with gemstones sewn in. She giggled at Leon’s voice a little too hard, making you seethe and glare at them from a distance. You know that this is all for a mission and the appearance of a woman in love with the man she came in with is necessary to throw off suspicions. Before another bellhop can accommodate them, you step in and put on a well-mastered fake smile.

“Good evening, esteemed guests.” you greet. You meet Leon’s eyes and he almost chokes on his own spit, his ears slightly going red but maintaining a composed appearance despite this.

“Good evening,” he greets you back before handing you the keys to the car. Since the lady didn’t have a coat, there was nothing to carry back to the storage room and as the pair of them left, you couldn’t help but burn holes into that perfect hair of hers. Y/N calm down, this is just a mission and they’re just faking it. They’re just faking it.

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Now that all the guests have arrived, you move from your post at the entrance and towards a darker corner of the party while lugging around cases filled with guns and other weapons to send to the other agents stationed around; some agents had partners like Leon, others went alone. Some were like you, assigned to a hotel staff role. It was hard to keep your eye on the target while Leon and the younger agent were dancing, a well-manicured hand on his shoulder as he sways them. If Leon is truly amazing at putting on a pleased facial expression then he’s doing damn too well of a job at keeping up that facade, the insecurity pushed to the front of your mind and threatening to take full rein of your decision-making yet you fought for control again, knowing that you can’t fuck this mission up. Leon leans in to her and whispers against her ear and suddenly you feel as if steam could start pouring out your ears. Luckily for you, you managed to spot Svetlana and another man taking a seat and have a discussion amongst yourselves. You inform all the agents in the area, giving them the details of the location the target is currently in. Svetlana takes a small metal briefcase out, showcasing several tubes and vials of a strain of the C Virus before promptly closing it and handing the case back to her guards. The guards, now in possession of the case, nod to her before moving somewhere. Given the go signal, you quietly follow them from a safe distance and start moving, a combat knife hidden on the inside of your black uniform. After a few minutes of following them and making sure they’re far from the party, you plunge the knife into one man before kicking on the other, making sure that you go for the kill as swift and noiseless as possible. You manage to do the job, taking the case and opening it up to make sure that you have the real thing and not just a copy.

“Osprey to Roost, I’ve obtained the case. Took two guys down, Noble’s men,” you radio back while getting your shoes back and trying to look as subtle as possible.

“Osprey, get out of there. I’ll request extraction for everyone. Noble’s looking for the guys,” Hunnigan responds. With a nod and a look back, you make your way out of the hotel. Entering an elevator, you expertly block the cameras and swiftly remove the top of your uniform and stay in the gray shirt you were underneath. You didn’t bother changing out of your skirt because that was all you had and without the uniform’s top, it looked just like any other pencil skirt. Swiftly walking to your red Ducati Panigale V2, you put on your black helmet and put the visor down before turning it on and getting the hell out of that place. All was well until a bullet barely even grazed your shoulder, causing you to almost lose balance and crash on the road.

“Shit!” You exclaimed. You switched lanes, making sure to get as far from whoever was shooting you. You swiftly looked back to look for the case that you had; it was still there luckily but you prayed that the vials were still inside and unshattered. It wasn’t like you could take out your own gun and start shooting since you carelessly forgot to take the firearms of the men you took down. When all seemed lost, you saw a familiar black Aston Martin near you with an agent hanging from an open window and shooting at the enemy car shooting at you. Taking advantage of the distraction, you speed away and into the meet up point right behind a port.

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Now that the mission briefing is over and the adrenaline from last night died down, exhaustion and jealousy settled in your body.

“Baby, I know you’re jealous,” Leon softly says as he sits down beside you, handing you a cup of coffee.

You take the cup, taking a cautious sip since it’s still steaming. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Leon laughs, taking your free hand and nuzzling it against his stubbly cheek while he shoots you puppy eyes.

“Saw you loud and clear last night, you were practically shooting lasers out of your eyes,” Leon recalled. “Even when I wasn’t directly looking at you, I could still feel the unfiltered jealousy seeping from your eyes.”

You rolled your eyes, gently withdrawing your hand from Leon.

“I was not jealous. Just making sure she didn’t canoodle up to my man.”

“So you were jealous?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Sure. Whatever you say but I find it endearing. It means you want me the same way I want you,” Leon rasps out.

You finish your small cup of coffee, getting up to throw the paper cup into the bin before sitting back beside him.

“She was looking at you with the goo-goo eyes, it’s my duty as your wife to make sure only I can give you those eyes,” you retorted with a suggestive lilt to your voice.

“I especially love those eyes from you when they’re below me,” he whispers.

“I can make those eyes for you again when we get back home,” you suggest with a wink.

Before you can say another thing, Leon drags you up and with a hand around your wrist he leads you two to an empty janitor’s closet and seals you two inside.

“Why wait until we can get home when we can do it now. Think of this as a teaser for the real thing later,” he breathily mutters as his hands roam every inch of your skin.

"Let me show you just how loyal I can be from down here."

NOTE - I'm finally done with my Valentine's Day series!!! This was really fun to do and I never thought I'd be able to accomplish this but here I am!!!! I know Valentine's Day was like a week ago but I still srsly hope you had a fun time :) I literally ended up rushing this bc I had no ideas at first 😭😭Um something interesting that happened in my day was that my teacher said that the class will get a buzzcut if I get a buzzcut (as a joke ofc) and the fact that me and my friend are forever known as the students obsessed with fictional men bc we screamed when we got Gallagher from HSR leaks on twt (I don't play HSR but my friend does, I just find the characters attractive). I also found out I don't have a gag reflex (milked so much dirty jokes from this fact). Anyways, TYSMM for keeping up with my Valentine's Day fics and I <33333 UUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!

[himehomu]

With Walpurgisnacht Rising coming in 2024, I want to talk about something that has been bothering me since Rebellion. It was never the “plot twist” of Homura separating Madoka from her godhood nor her taking those godlike powers for herself thus becoming the devil. It was always people's reactions to Homura doing this and the way they based her entire character around this specific moment that really rubbed me the wrong way. Saying she's a selfish monster who's trapping Madoka in a fake world for her own personal gain or that she's taking Madoka's agency away from her and making decisions for her that directly rebel against what Madoka wants... And, to that, I just want to know.... do literally any of you know what Madoka actually wants or are you just basing her character around her sacrifice?

Yes, it was for the benefit of all Magical Girls and yes it freed them from their cycle of selling their souls in the name of hope just to die at the hands of their own grief and despair, but Madoka didn't plan to abruptly cease to exist at the cost of it?? She didn't want to be stuck between life and death only existing as a deity meant to eradicate Witches for all of time. Madoka wished to erase Witches before they are born from the past, present, and future. Going back years upon years in time, destroying Witches and mercy killing Magical Girls; fighting forever, past and future, for all time. Ceasing to exist as an individual, only able to materialize and interact with someone when they're dying of grief and sadness and pain; relieving them of that pain so that their last moments won't be in agony, so they can die in peace, but there's none of that for Madoka. There's no death, no closure, no release, no freedom from this hell of being a weapon and nothing more.

But, Madoka would never voice these struggles and frustrations. Because Madoka isn't that kind of girl. She's the kind of girl who shoves all of her problems down and bases all of her self worth on how much she can do for others, how happy she can make others, and how useful she can be. She forces a smile and masks her pain because she doesn't want to burden anyone with her problems. She puts herself down constantly, risking her life trying to help others because she cares so little for herself. Without being useful, she believes her life has no value. And Homura knows this. Because Homura knows her. I feel like most people take Madoka's bright pink colors and smile at face value and don't realize she's chronically depressed. That's why in the first timeline, she and Homura naturally got along so well: they were both girls who hated themselves and based their self worth on how they made others around them feel, both self-loathing girls who deem themselves worthless if they're not useful in some way. Madoka was just better at hiding it than Homura was. And she still is by the 100th loop.

But, in Rebellion, when her memories of being a god are taken away from her, and she's given a hypothetical scenario of her fate, she says "wow that sounds awful and scary and lonely and I would never do something like that." The Flower Field scene is one of the most brilliant and misunderstood scenes in all of anime. Majority still to this day argue that, since Madoka doesn't have her memories, her words hold little to no weight, and Homura is simply hearing what she wants to hear. So, naturally, they disregard what Madoka is saying, assuming it's just Homura being selfish. And that's where they mess up. Because, the fact that Madoka doesn't have her memories here is the whole point! Homura is already well-aware that if Madoka had her memories, her self loathing would result in her caring so little for herself that she sacrifices herself every time which is why immediately after Madoka's words, she assures Madoka that she is indeed "strong enough to make that decision." Homura just wanted to confirm if Madoka would still miss her life pre-godhood in spite of that, which she outright says she does.

There are also arguments that Homura was somehow influencing Madoka in the labyrinth aside from just not remembering becoming a god, but Shinbou already stated in an interview that this wasn't the case, and that these were Madoka's honest words. In fact, Madoka's true feelings regarding her godhood are revealed for the first time within the lyrics of Madoka's character song (sung by her VA Aoi Yuuki) that played as the ep 1-2 ED titled “Mata Ashita”. The song is about Madoka post-series which consists of Madoka wandering around aimlessly, quietly observing as humanity resumes without her, lamenting on the life she lost after becoming a god and wishing she could have been more honest about her feelings to Homura in ep 12, asking her to realize she's lonely.

[I'm pretending that I'm used to being alone, but I'm not really that strong.

The scenery is the same as always, the city is the same as always.

Even though I think everything will stay unchanged.

I still feel like I'm the only one who's tiny. Instead of "See you later."

I should've said, "I'll stay for a little longer."

I wanted and hoped that you would realize it.

But with the words "See you later,"

I lie to myself again.

And hide my true feelings beneath my usual smile. Saying, "See you later," I wave my hand.

Cracking a smile, yet I'm feeling lonely.

The truth is, I still have more to talk about.

But even my voice saying, "See you later"

is so near yet far from you that it can't reach you.

So let me say this like I always do, just once more: "See you tomorrow"]

This is definitive proof that even BEFORE Rebellion, this was already confirmed to be Madoka's true feelings.

The second time Madoka's true feelings post-godhood are adressed is via Madoka and Homura's concept movie quotes explaining that the God (Madoka) is clearly suffering in her “heaven”, which is more like a prison of isolation. The lizard girl (Homura) takes pity on her and separates her humanity from her godhood, thus making her human once more. Here are also some direct quotes from Magia Record which provides even more context for what Madokami is experiencing:

All of this, with the addition of Madoka's words in the Flower Field scene being confirmed to be her real and honest feelings, puts the whole “pulling madokami down from heaven” scene into a different perspective. Considering the entire reason why Madoka even became powerful enough to become God in the first place was because Homura's 100+ time loops linked multiple parallel universes together with Madoka at their center, and it's confirmed Madoka was suffering as a god, I would think people would be happy to see Homura reverting Madoka back to a human being and rewriting the entire universe to be a world where Madoka is happy and free, surrounded by her friends and family???

The fact that Homura's love for Madoka was so strong throughout 12 years of 100+ time loops, it turned Madoka into a goddess but when Homura was able to see just how isolating and lonely godhood was for her, she took her godlike powers for herself because she loved her and was willing to take on the exhaustion and isolation of immortality as the devil to spare her of anymore pain and sadness. Homura freed Madoka from a nonexistential purgatory prison and a decade later she's still demonized for it, how insane is that??

[staytinyville]

BDE (WooSanSang Smut)

↣ Summary: You walk in on a comparison of swords (Dicks. It’s a comparison of dicks. That’s it. That’s the story.)

↣ Characters/Pairing: WooSanSang x Reader (poly!Ateez x Reader background)

↣ Genre: Smut (MDNI)

↣ AU/Trope info: idol!au, 

↣ Word Count: 4.7k+

↣ Warnings: Foursome, Big Dick!Yeosang (the inspo), name calling (slut, whore), Edging, Unprotected Sex (We don’t do that here), Cum play, Squirting

↣ A/N: I do not remember which imagine it was that got me thinking—Yeosang has a big dick. I just know he does. That proceeded to create a conversation with @anyamaris that Yeosang is for sure the person who’s like. It ain’t that big. It’s like everyone else. And it’s not. I just know it ain’t. And yes Wooyoung and San are the ones to be like. Stop lying to yourself. This is what came out of it.

Staytinyville’s Permanent Taglist

↣ Affiliates: @pirateeznet , @cultofdionysusnet , @wonderlandnet , @cromernet ,

↣ Special Tags: @wooyoungqueen, @daesukiii ,

↣ Special Thanks: Thank you @saradika-graphics for the amazing banners! Please go check her out if you have specific banners in mind. She is great!

The boys always tried their best to spend time with you. Ever since they all separated into different dorms, your time was spent moving from one to the other–depending on if they were hanging out separately. 

This weekend, it had been Yeosang who had told you Wooyoung and San were going to be over at his dorm with Yunho. They all figured if they were going to spend time together, it was best to have you where a majority of them were. And you knew that if Yunho was going to be home, you weren’t going to put it above him who would more than likely invite Mingi and/or Jongho. 

And so you gave Yunho a peck on the lips when he opened the door for you, his bright grin playing on his lips as he watched you come into the apartment. He allowed you to place your things down, going back to the living room to settle in the couch as he watched something on the TV. 

You dropped something off in the kitchen, having picked up dinner to make later. You also brought something you knew the boys might have been too busy to pick up like drinks and snacks. While you were busy putting things in their place, you realized you couldn’t hear any of the others, so you called out to Yunho. 

“Are you the only one home?” You asked, leaning over the back of the couch to speak to the tall man. 

“Wooyoug and San are over—Mingi's coming later.” He answered you, leaning his head back so you could give him an upside down kiss.

“Okay,” You smiled against his lips. “Do you want anything?” You asked, going to move to the kitchen to get him something. 

“No, I'm okay, baby.” Yunho called out. “You can go ask the others though.” He added. 

You hummed, making your way towards the hallway and to Yeosang’s room where you started to hear their shuffling on the other side of the door. You didn’t think anything of it, assuming it was them just playing games on Yeosang’s computer or going through his things. 

So as you called out to them and opened the door, you didn’t expect to catch them naked and facing each other in the room. “Guys! Do you want anything to—What are y'all doing?” You stopped, lips pulling into a thin line as you looked at them. 

They all turned to you, San giving you a smile as he got excited to see you had arrived while Wooyoung gave you a grin. Yeosang only sighed, dropping his shoulders as he realized where it was that Wooyoung and San were going to go. 

“Oh, Jagiya. Good you're here.” Wooyoung said, bounding over to you. “You've fucked all of us, so tell us—who has the biggest dick?”

Walking into the room you hadn’t expected them to be naked. Which meant you for sure wouldn’t have expected them to be comparing dick sizes. So when Wooyoung asked you that question, while it did leave you wondering who had the biggest, you weren’t going to admit to it when all you could see was Wooyoung’s grin in front of you. 

“I'm not answering that.” You deadpanned, turning around to leave the room and the boys to their own devices. 

“No! No! No!” Wooyoung pulled you back, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pushed you against his naked chest. 

You felt his leg push between your own, your ass pushing up against his cock as he softly rubbed against the back of your thighs. San smiled as he walked up to you, giving you a peck in greeting squishing you between two naked men. 

You sighed, looking over San’s shoulder to Find Yeosang giving you a small smile. 

“You are not leaving until you tell us.” Wooyoung pouted. “Now look.”

“Wooyoung, I'm not looking at your dicks.” You pursed your lips. “What is this even for?” You asked him, trying to turn around in the man’s arms. 

“Yeosang doesn't think he has a big cock.” San told you, moving to the side to look at the man who shook his head at the statement. 

“Yeosang, you literally have the biggest.” You nonchalantly spoke giving his dick a glance. 

You weren’t one to compare dicks–especially not when you had eight boyfriends who all took care of you in their own way. But you will say, no matter how sensitive you are when it comes to the touches you get from them—some of the boys were just much harder to take if you hadn’t been stretched open beforehand. It wasn’t that they didn’t get you as horny as the others, it was just easier to slip in if you were already relaxed. 

And Yeosang was one of them. 

“Ya see! I told you!” Wooyoung grinned, hand running down the front of your thighs as he messaged his fingers into them. 

You sighed, feeling your legs relax at his menstruations. You leaned into him a bit, causing his arms to wrap tighter around you. He gave you neck a kiss, grinning as he knew exactly how to get your skin burning. 

“I don't think it's that much bigger!” Yeosang pouted, looking down at his hanging half hard cock. 

“Yes it is!” Wooyoung continued, letting go of you as he rounded to Yeosang. “(Y/N) can't fuck you if you dont stretch her out first. And she is already an ocean when all we do is play with her thighs.”

“Hey!” You pouted, leaning into San who took up Wooyoung’s spot behind you. 

“They are amazing thighs, let me get smothered in them.” San gushed, getting onto his knees behind you and rubbing a cheek along your ass. 

He gave it a bite, making you gasp and turn to glare at him. “San!” You pouted, turning around fully to get away from his grinning smile. 

“We'll prove it to you.” Wooyoung’s voice came out, causing you to turn around. “(Y/N), on the bed.” The youngest boy told you, pointing towards Yeosang’s neatly made bed.

“Excuse me!” You glared. “Not even going to say pleas—“ 

You let out a squeak as San quickly pulled you into his chest, forcefully walking you towards Yeosang’s bed. You pouted, relenting as you crawled onto the middle of the bed and sitting down with your arms crossed.

“I'm greedy. You know this.” Wooyoung crawled over to you, his wicked grin taking over his features. 

As you knew that he was going to waste no time in pulling your pants off you and onto the ground. The three boys were the ones who preferred your thighs over all else. It was where some of the softest of your skin lay, so they would always find themselves gravitating towards that part of your body. 

Wooyoung gave the tops of your thighs kisses as he pulled your clothing off finger digging into the fat of them as he jiggled them just a bit. He laughed quietly when you made a sound of protest, whining at his kisses as something began to stir within you. 

There was no denying that everytime you came over for the weekend you would end up in one of the boy’s beds. It wasn’t that you were all nympho’s but when you only had a day or two to spend time with certain members, it was a given that you would have sex with them. 

And you loved how each one of them spoiled and treated you. 

Once Wooyoung got your pants off your legs, he stood back up messaging your legs for a bit before pulling away. “Yeosang!” He called behind him.

The oldest one came up to you, stroking his cock as he placed his knees onto the bed. He was quick to let go of himself, moving to place his hands on your thighs and spread them apart to rub further into your skin. He raised your shirt up, pulling it all the way until you felt the need to take it off all together.  

When your breast came into view after you had taken off your bra, you jumped a bit from the harsh fall of San crawling closer to you to pop a nipple into his mouth. He made himself comfortable into your side, his half hard dick rubbing along the side of your thigh as he suckled on your boob. 

He wasn’t bothered by how Yeosang was crawling between your legs and trying to position himself there. He also wasn’t bothered by Wooyoung moving to get comfortable on your other side, slowly stroking himself with an arm behind his head. 

The boys didn’t have a problem with sharing you at the same time as another. With how busy schedules could be it was the most probable time to have their ways with you. When they were either all together or hanging out with one another. Besides, each of the boys had their own versions of voyeurism. While some might have it more than others, they weren’t shy. 

If it was anything to go off by that fact that the three boys were clearly comparing dick sizes before you had walked in. 

With the way Yeosang was pushing at the back of your thighs with his own, your toes curled as you wanted to close your legs to feel pressure on your heat. But Yeosang was one of the service doms of the group, allowing his cock to fall between your lips and cover himself in your slick. 

As Wooyoung stated, you were always quick to start making a mess of yourself. With San suck at your nipple and Yeosang humping your pussy with his hot cock you knew it was easy to find yourself wet and sticky. 

“Try to stick it in. And you’ll see that it’s not as easy with you.” Wooyoung instructed. 

Yeosang huffed, giving the younger boy a glare but ultimately tried to do what was asked. He did move to probe at your entrance for a moment to make sure you were slicked enough. When his fingers came up glossy, Wooyoung grinned when he knew that you were more than ready as always. 

The sensitive little slut you were for your boys. 

Yeosang leaned over towards you, quickly giving you a peck on your lips. “You sure you want me to?” He asked you quietly. 

You smiled at him. “Even if you have to wait for the others to stretch me I still want to fuck my pretty boy.”

Yeosang laughed against your mouth, moving to slot his lips against yours. His hand went down to line himself up with your core. You moved your hands away from Yeosang, reaching out to find San and Wooyoung’s thighs. However, Wooyoung took your hand and placed it on his own cock. When you felt his hot skin, you tried to reach out for San’s quickly finding his hard dick. 

As Yeosang tried to push in his tip, you moaned out, legs flexing from the stretch. You never complained about it, you always told them that the after burn of being so full left you in a dazed mindset the rest of the day. It left your legs twitching. 

You stopped stroking San and Wooyoung, dropping your head back as you squirmed under Yeosang. The man was biting his lip on top of you, feeling how you were resisting him. He could feel that you were still wet, all of your slick sliding down the inside of your thighs and across his shaft. 

But he knew he couldn’t just force himself in without hurting you. If he was to shove himself in all the way he knew it would take you much longer to adjust than if you were already stretched. So with a huff he pulled back, shuffling away from you as he allowed himself to grind against your heat again. 

You all turned as Wooyoung began to snicker, his face showing off that he had been right. You huffed, already knowing the outcome of the whole thing. However, if that was the only way to prove to Yeosang that he was one of the larger members, you were more than happy to allow the three boys to have their way with you. 

You hummed, hips moving up when Yeosang bumped your clit. 

“I told you!” Wooyoung laughed. “You're huge man. Big dick energy.” He continued. 

“Yes, Yeosang is one of the biggest of all of you. Now can you please fuck me so I can actually enjoy his big dick.” You huffed out. 

“Greedy, baby.” San giggled, being the first to get up. 

Yeosang allowed himself to drop down next to you but you whined. He leaned up to look at you, waiting for what you wanted. 

“Let me suck you off.” You told him, making grabby hands for his cock. 

“Okay, sweetheart.” He gave you a kiss before getting up onto his knees. 

You patted Wooyoung’s thighs, telling him to do the same. His lips turned up into a large smile, happy to do as you wanted. Before San slotted himself between your legs, you were quick to turn over onto your stomach, wiggling your ass in a mocking way at San who gave it a light slap. 

Yeosang moved to sit down at the head of the bed, leaning back when he understood the position you wanted to be in. He smiled down at you as you placed a cheek down onto his thigh, looking up at him through your lashes. 

Wooyoung knew where this was heading, so he too laid down next to Yeosang, knowing that the moment San would start pounding into you your arms would become jelly and you wouldn't be able to hold yourself up. 

You weren’t even able to stay upright when San allowed his tongue to flatten itself out along your pussy to lap at you. You had already fallen over into Yeosang, tongue slowly licking at his tip. 

They knew how to make your orgasm hit twice as hard. Edging was one the best and worst things they ever found out about you. 

You moaned out when you took Yeosang’s cock into your mouth, hand stretching out to reach for Wooyoung’s. He kept a grip on your hand over him, moving the pace on his own because he knew he would be the next one to fuck you. 

San gave you one last lick from your clit all the way up to your puckered hole, pulling away to scoot his thighs closer against your own. You whined when he slapped his tip against your backside, pushing back into him to get his attention. 

“I’m going, needy.” He gave your ass a slap. 

Yeosang let out a breathy moan, the tip of his dick hitting your cheek from how you were turned trying to look behind you without taking him out of your mouth. When you couldn’t see what you wanted you took a glance over at Wooyoung finding him blissed out with an arm behind his head as he used your hand for his own pleasure. 

You knew he didn’t need anything more, content with waiting for his turn as he too edged himself. So you put your attention on getting Yeosang to hit the back of your throat, using your other hand to pump what you couldn’t. 

When you felt San’s tip at your entrance you could help but whimper, anticipating for him to shove himself in. You wiggled your hips one more time, arching your back even lower causing Yeosang to look over at San. 

The hum San would let out each time he would sink into you always had your body relaxing from the goosebumps it would cause all over your skin. The way his fingers would grip onto your hips in any position had you trying to suck him in even more. 

You had to let go of Yeosang’s cock from your mouth for a moment as your whines and whimpers overflowed from you. When you pushed back onto San, your senses returned to you and you went back to sucking Yeosang off slowly so as to make him last. 

San moved his knees to place your legs between his own before beginning to thrust forward. As he began to move back and forth, you didn’t realize you had gripped too tightly onto Wooyoung until the boy whined and quickly pulled your hand off him. 

“Pretty, I want to last.” His eyes rolled, softly taking your hand once again to put back on him. 

Yeosang let his hand wander to your back, rubbing along your spine as his breathing was turning short and mouth wide open. When you felt San’s fingers start to grip your hips tightly, you let go of Yeosang and Wooyoung, dropping your head down onto Yeosang’s thighs as your moans grew louder. You began to move back onto San, trying to get him to hit that spot within you. You began to meet his thrusts, causing him to lean over you just a bit as he began to reach his high. 

“That’s my good girl.” San huffed out. “Gotta get you all stretched out for Sangie.” He held himself up with one hand while the other moved to play with your clit. 

You let out a choked moan as his fingers softly moved along your nub. It only served to push yourself further into him, causing the sound of skin slapping to each around the four of you. San groaned and closed his eyes when you began to squeeze around him, head falling back and his fingers paused their movements on you. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung were quick to watch your face contort as they knew the one you made when you orgasmed. Wooyoung had to pull your hand off him, while Yeosang squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his thighs to keep from cumming. 

“Sannie.” You whined, nails scratching at Yeosang’s abs and finger crests being created on Wooyoung’s thigh. You whimpered out as your orgasm came in waves, falling forward as you had begun to get overstimulated. 

San quickly tapped the tip of cock along your ass cheek, huffing out and whining as he came onto your back. You squirmed and moan, rubbing your cheek into Yeosang who softly rubbed at your head to bring you back down from your high. 

“San.” You softly called out. 

The sweaty man hummed looking over at you. When you stuck your tongue out, the man grinned knowing what it was you wanted. The man quickly swiped at his cum on your cheeks, gathering it between his fingers the best he could. When his fingers were in front of you, you took them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around to make sure you had gotten all of cum clean off. 

“Pretty baby knows how to please us.” Wooyoung snickers, fingers moving to dig into your hips and he rubbed his cheek against your back. 

He moved his fingers down to swirl San’s drying cum around your skin, messaging it in. “Sangie, do you want to do next?” He asked his Hyung, looking up at him from his spot on your back. 

You turned to look up at him, climbing up slowly placing a kiss on his lips causing him to smile at you. “You can go first.” Yeosang told Wooyoung, keeping his eyes trained on your lips as you crawled into his lap. 

“Turn around for Woo, Darling.” Yeosang whispered against your lips.

You hummed in acknowledgment, turning around to seat yourself between Yeosang’s legs. The man moved to gather your legs in his hands, putting them under your knees before shoving them wide open. He placed your feet outside his own legs, making sure you were wide open for Wooyoung. 

You moaned, head dropping back as you panted. Wooyoung had a grin on his face as San moved to take his place beside Yeosang, head leaning back to watch the show. Before Wooyoung moved to position his cock between your legs, he moved down to look at your hole, giving it a nice slow lick to sooth the stretch you had gotten from Sannie. 

A whimper came from you, Yeosang moving a hand up to your neck to softly message your skin. He began to leave open mouth kisses along the place between your neck and shoulder, his other hand messaging into your inner thigh. 

Once Wooyoung got up from licking at you he shuffled closer, lining himself up with your entrance. Your hole gaped open, legs twitching as you began to anticipate his intrusion. 

“Always be ready to take us all.” Wooyoung cooed, moving forward to lean over you as his tip finally worked its way in. He squeaked, trying to keep it in but you knew Wooyoung could never keep quiet. 

You giggled quietly, arching your back off Yeosang, as your hand creeped up to Wooyoung’s neck. The boy’s head fell back, choking on air as his hips began to steadily move faster inside you. 

“You know I’ll always take you.” You praised him. You gave him a kiss on the cheek after making him lean down by his neck. 

“Wooyoung.” You moaned out, sliding down Yeosang as you felt him hit that spot within you. 

“Come on, Youngie. Make (Y/N) cum so Sangie can have his turn.” San spurred the man on. 

Wooyoung huffed, but moved to hold himself up onto his knees as he began to thrust faster into you. It only served to make you whine out, neck being on display as sweat formed on your body. Yeosang continued to suck on your skin, moving his hand to place itself on your pussy. He used two of his fingers around your entrance causing Wooyoung to let out a choked moan from how the man was squeezing his cock moving in and out of you. 

It wasn’t long until you were pushing Wooyoung away from you as you both came at the same time. You were once again feeling the overstimulation and you didn’t want your slit or pussy to start hurting before you were able to take Yeosang. 

Wooyoung let go of himself on your stomach, some of it landing on your core. It made you whine, knowing that you loved how their hot cum felt on you rather than in you. You shut your legs together tightly, rubbing the liquid together making Wooyoung smack his lips. 

“You’re such a whore for our cum.” The man spoke up, leaning back. 

“I don’t hear anyone complaining.” You retorted back to him out of breath. 

He gave you a wicked grin. “That’s why we love you.” With one last kiss to your lips, he got up off the bed, stretching his legs.

“Sangie.” You called out, turning around as you shuffled onto Yeosang’s lap. 

He smiled up at you, shuffling himself down to lay against the pillows, feet planted on the bed as he knew he was going to have to do all the work. “You sure you can go again?”

You grinned down at him, falling forward to be chest to chest with him. “For you? Always.” You giggled. 

Yeosang hummed, grinning like a love-struck fool. If there was anything that always got him hard it was the way you always were ready to take any of them. Maybe he did have too big of a dick that you needed to be stretched out first compared to the others but even if he did need to do that, he knew you weren’t going to complain about it. Especially not when you were just as giving as he was. 

He lined himself up with your entrance, feeling Wooyung’s cum mixed with yours hitting the tip of his cock. He groaned in your ear, finally happy to be encasing himself in your warmth. You were more than ready to take his cock while still squeezing him perfectly. You always did no matter how many of the members you took. 

You whine in his ear, too tired out to twitch your hips against him but you still arched your back to get him to hit you further. Your arms moved around his head, fingers gripping at the pillows and you stretched back like a cat. Your huffs and whines in his ears made him grab the fat of you hips, thighs pushing forward all the way to sheath himself. 

When he heard that harsh groan from you he knew he had hit your cervix–your favorite part about having him fuck you. So when you moved yourself up, hands on his shoulders, Yeosang knew it was the moment to go hard on you. And he did just that. 

His thighs slapped against the back of yours, you whines and moans turning into screams as you begin to feel your heat clench much tighter than normal. You felt that build up in your stomach coming full force. 

Yeosang quickly sat up, pulling your chest closer to him as he felt you tighten and squeeze around him knowing where it was going. San and Wooyung were quick to move around, coming to watch you bounce on Yeosang’s cock from behind. 

“Babygirl, you gotta come for us.” Yeosang spoke into your ear. “Make a mess on me. Go one, I know you’re gonna squirt.”

You cried out at his words, scratching up Yeosang’s back from how you gripped onto him tightly to keep you down on earth. When your pussy squeezed onto Yeosang tightly, the man cried out gripping your hips to move you off him when it became too much. As your orgasm gushed out and onto Yeosang’s thighs and the sheets, he let go of his cum as well, not caring where it landed. 

You could hear Wooyoung and San groan as you squirted, moving off the bed quickly knowing that you would have to be moved to a dry place after all that. And it was clear the moment you fell over into Yeosang, exhausted from fucking all three of them and cumming so many times. You were sure if they touched your clit right now it would hurt. But you were glad to have them with you. 

“You did so good.” Yeosang whispered into your ear. 

“So perfect, Pretty.” Wooyoung called, kissing your head. 

“We got everything.” San spoke up, giving you back a quick message as he moved his fingers along your skin. 

You groaned, feeling your legs tighten from the sensation of cumming so hard. Your muscles kept twitching, trying to get rid of the overexhaustion. As Wooyoung and San went out to get what they need to change the sheets to the bed, you heard someone else make their way into the room, causing Yeosang to look up. 

“I just needed a gaming remote.” Yunho giggled, watching as you slowly turned over onto your back and rolled off Yeosang. “Don't mind me.” He waved you off. 

“Yunho!” You whined out, making grabbing hands at him to take you off the soaked bed. 

“I'm going.” He softly spoke up, coming out to give you a tshirt he found in the room. 

He held you up, carefully putting on the shirt before picking you up in his arms. Yeosang got up behind him, moving to gather up his clothes to put them back on and help the boys clean up the room. You relaxed into Yunho’s arms, allowing him to take you out into the living room where someone else sat waiting to play games with his best friend. 

“I thought men comparing dick sizes for fun was just a gay joke.” You huffed against the Yunho’s neck. 

“So, who's is bigger?” He giggled.

“You guys get dressed together, I think you know.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Yeah.” Yunho hummed. “It's Yeosang's.”

“Yeosang's what?” You saw Mingi poke his head over the couch, giving you a dazzling smile as he watched Yunho bring you over to the couch. 

You were dropped onto it, allowing yourself to get comfortable against Mingi who nuzzled his nose into your cheek. 

“His dick.” Yunho laughed. He turned around to get you some water and a snack, knowing you got hungry after something as rough as that. 

“Oh yeah, man's hung.” Mingi said as if there was nothing wrong with that. 

“I know!” You pouted, stretching your legs out to get the soreness to go away. 

“What are we playing!?” You heard Wooyoung’s grin without even seeing it. 

Permanent Taglist: @hecateslittlewitchling , @ldysmfrst , @rln-byg , @vampcharxter , @angieskzzzz, @puppyminnnie , @smilingtokki , @emtrades22 , @tinyelfperson , @jaerisdiction , @0rangemilk

[zynxwrite]

hey darling <3 hope you are well rested today! may i request something like when neteyam and lo’ ak say something hurtful about sibling!reader thinking she’s not there but she accidentally overhears? if its not too much, can it have fluffish ending? no pressure take your time 🦋

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐄?

pairings ❰ Neteyam x Sibling!F!Reader, Lo' ak x Sibling!F!Reader (Separated) Spider x Reader (briefly)

You overhear your brother talking hurtful things behind your back. How could he?

GENRE: Angst, comfort after. WARNINGS: none.

NETEYAM.

You, the middle child of the family had always tried to fit in. Never really had a role to take. You were just you. The plain old [Name] with no purpose to being a sully. You were always what they call annoying; A brat who can't behave. Even you really don't know why you act like this-you can't control yourself and just eventually do something. Or you accidentally shout and hurt someone just by it.

"Freak. She does not deserve to be a Sully." What you commonly hear when the Na'vi speak of you.

"That girl is mad. Disrespectful. A dog to her family." And it can even come to this.

You were an outcast to them. To your family, you think. You were nothing but a dog to them. Still, your family loves you. Maybe Especially your sisters, Kiri and Tuktirey. Even if they cannot understand your situation-they're always there for you. Kiri was your adoptive older sister. And you were her first sister. As children, you were both inseparable, like how glue sticks to a paper.

The relationship of you and your edest brother were never really that close. But you admire him a lot. A lot. You admired him more than your father. He was more likely the father of your siblings than your actual one. Jake was always hard on you and even your siblings.

"I will never treat you like a nothing. Promise." A lie.

Scratches, injuries were present to your legs. You were not supposed to go hunting, you disobeyed your father again. All you wanted was just to prove your worth.

Neteyam began to speak to a mutual friend, assuming you were not there to hear his words. But there you were, behind a tree listenig to their conversation as you watch them just finished fishing.

"I don't get [Name] at all! I always try to teach her but she just does not listen. It's getting annoying, truth. She's a brat." Neteyam crossed his arms while sharing something to a friend. And the friend happens to agree. Of course it will. They always do.

"I do not know how she can even be related to you at all."

"Neither do I. She's not a sister of mine."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and your eyes welled up with tears. You had always admired your sibling, looking up to them for guidance and support. Hearing them talk about you in such a hurtful manner shattered your heart, leaving you feeling vulnerable and betrayed.

He continued, "She thinks everything is so easy, and she can just coast through life. It's infuriating how she goes about her days, seemingly without a care in the world, while the rest of us are trying to keep it all together." Unable to bear the pain any longer, you accidentally reveal yourself, finally being seen.

Neteyam's eyes widened as he saw you. Knowing that you probably heard all that he said about you. Feeling a mix of sadness and anger, you managed to whisper, "I didn't know you felt this way... I never meant to disappoint you." The voice of yours cracked with emotion as you turned and left the place, needing time to process the hurtful revelation.

"Shit. Wait, [Name]!-] But you already left both of them before he could even say another word. You were also known for being fast, your legs were like the sibling of the winds. Fast.

Oh, great mother. What has he done? Such shitty thing to say.

What you didn't know that Spider was also in the same place as you. Hearing all the words your brother said to you. His plan was to scare you so he followed you. But he didn't know that it would lead to this. Your human friend then followed you.

You didn't know where you were running. But the speed of your legs just kept running. Running to whatever you stop to. Before you could even realize you were completely far away from the village.

A sound coming from a bush entered the core of your ears. But you ignored it. Not wanting to pay attention to anything anymore. 'Neither do I. She's not a sister of mine.' This. This piece of crap. Such words.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you clenched your fists, feeling a knot the my stomach. You wanted to run away, but your feet felt glued to the floor, unable to move. The pain of his words pierced through your soul, leaving me feeling worthless and unloved. You always knew that the people disliked you. But never expected your brother to hate you as well. Thoughts started to circle all over you. Do your sisters find you unlovable as well? Your mother? Overthinking made you hurt more.

"[Name]?" That voice. You recognized it. Suddenly, you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder, and turned to see none other than Spider, the closest friend you had. The only one. He had been your rock through thick and thin, always there to lend a listening ear or a comforting hand. You two shared a lot in common. Being disliked by the people.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice filled with concern, "I heard what happened. Are you okay?" What do you think. You couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They cascaded down your cheeks as you whispered, "I don't know what's wrong with me. Why did he say that?"

"Am I that much of a brat?" You were sitting, and he was standing. Spider pulled you into a warm embrace, letting you cry on his shoulder-accidentally wiping the blue paint off his skin.

"You're not the problem, and you're not alone," he said firmly. "Sometimes people say hurtful things out of frustration or their own issues. But that doesn't define who you are. You're strong, caring, and deserving of love." More tears started to form you. But this time it wasn't tears of that feeling.

As you cried, Spider stayed with you, providing a safe space for your pain. His presence and words brought some comfort to your shattered heart. While the hurtful words from your so called brother lingered, Spider's support reminded you that you had someone who genuinely cared for me. You hope your sisters didn't hate you too.

"Thank you, Spider."

"How stupid can you be?!" Kiri yelled. "Brother...Why would you say that? You know she's sensitive! Norm said she had difficulty expressing herself." Kiri had heard about what he said from Spider, but never told Neteyam it was from him.

"You know how much she looks up to you and cares about your opinion. It's not fair to speak about her like that behind her back." Neteyam's face flushed with embarrassment and guilt. He fumbled for words but remained silent, realizing the gravity of his actions.

"I understand that siblings can have disagreements and conflicts," Kiri continued, her tone softening slightly. "But there are better ways to handle your feelings. You could talk to her directly and try to understand what's going on instead of making hurtful assumptions."

Neteyam looked down, clearly grappling with his emotions. "I didn't mean for her to hear that," he finally mumbled. "I was just frustrated, and it came out."

"I get that," Kiri acknowledged, "but you need to be more mindful of your words. They have consequences, and you hurt her deeply. She's your sister too, and she loves you despite everything. Don't take that for granted."

A mix of guilt and regret washed over Neteyam's face. He knew Kiri was right, and he had to take responsibility for his actions. "You're right," he admitted, his voice filled with remorse. "I messed up, and I need to apologize to her." Kiri nodded, appreciating his honesty. "It's not going to be easy, but you owe it to her and yourself to make things right," she said.

Later that day, Neteyam approached you. "Sister," sister.

"Can we talk?" he asked softly, and you hesitated for a moment before nodding. Sister... the word kept ringing inside that head of yours. "I need to apologize," Neteyam began, his voice genuine and vulnerable. "I said some awful things, and I can't even begin to express how sorry I am. I was frustrated, angry, and I took it out on you. But that was never right, and you didn't deserve any of it."

"I felt so disconnected from you," he continued. "It seemed like we were drifting apart, and I didn't know how to handle it. But I realize now that pushing you away was the worst thing I could have done." Confusion stirred in you. Was he actually sorry? You couldn't help but overthink.

"I'm sorry. You are my sister." Really?

Not even a second-You hugged him. Forgiveness has already been granted. You always thought how warm his hug was.

LO'AK.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room, you could feel the tension in the air. The gathering at the village had started out joyous, but now it felt heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. You had noticed your brother, Lo'ak, acting distant and on edge all evening, but you couldn't pinpoint the reason behind it.

"Hey, [Name]! Dance with us!" Your little sister, Tuk tried to pull you from the crowd. Sorry, Tuk.

"Uhm-I think I'm gonna go for a walk first. I'll dance with you later, promise!" Feeling overwhelmed, you decided to step out onto the crowd for a moment of solitude. As you moved away from the chatter inside, you overheard hushed voices and recognized Lo'ak's distinct tone. Curiosity got the better of you, and you couldn't resist eavesdropping on the conversation.

"I don't understand her," Lo'ak's voice carried the weight of frustration. "She's always so needy and emotionally sensitive. It's exhausting to be around her. It's so annoying." He sighed. "She doesn't act like a relative to me, bro." a friend of his nodded.

"Why did I even have a twin." why did he?

Each word hit you like a physical blow, and the tears that had been building up in your eyes finally spilled over. You felt the sting of hurt and betrayal, listening to your own brother talking about you in such a hurtful manner. You had always looked up to your twin and thought he cared for you deeply, but his words shattered that illusion.

Before you could retreat, Lo'ak's voice wavered with realization, "Wait, where did she go? Did she hear me?"

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself, but the pain was too raw. Still, you couldn't bear the thought of confronting him, not when he had uttered those words in the heat of the moment. Instead, you quietly slipped away and found a secluded corner on a tree to hide your tears.

It was already dark. You have been gone for almost an hour or two. The people have been worried about you. Where did you go? Were you safe? Tuk couldn't help but ask Neytiri every minute if you've already returned. But you were just nowhere to be seen.

Thankfully, Lo'ak eventually found you. It took him 30 minutes to find you with his Ikran. There you were, hugging your legs under a tree. He almost thought you fell asleep. But you weren't.

He landed his Ikran on the ground. There he stood, his expression pained and regretful. "I-I didn't know you were there," he stammered, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean what I said. I was just frustrated, and I didn't think before I spoke."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, and you looked away, not wanting to show your vulnerability. "It doesn't excuse what you said," you replied, your voice shaky. "You really think I'm that unbearable?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant," Lo'ak pleaded, taking a step closer to you. "I've just been going through a lot lately, and I didn't know how to handle it. I never meant to hurt you." Despite your anger and hurt, you could see the sincerity in his eyes. You knew that he was struggling, but that didn't make his words hurt any less.

"I can't believe you said those things about me," you said, trying to hold back your tears. "I thought we were close." You were his twin.

"We are close," Lo'ak said, his voice cracking. "And that's why it hurts so much to see you upset. I've been a terrible brother, and I'm so sorry."

The pain in his voice tugged at your heart, and you felt conflicted. Part of you wanted to shut him out and protect yourself, but another part wanted to believe that he genuinely regretted his words.

"Please. I know you can't forgive me that easily. But you need to come back with me. They are worried about you."

"Take all the time you need," he said softly. "I'll be here when you're ready to talk, and I'll do whatever it takes to make things right." He took his hand out and placed it in the air. Gesturing it for you to hold on. But as you held his hand-he pulled you into a hug.

NOTE: SORRY I HAVEN'T WRITTEN FOR A LONG TIME AND I'M STRUGGLING BECAUSE I'M WORKING ON A NOVEL AOAHDJSJSBK. SORRY THE WRITING IS TERRIBLE. (I fr need to take lessons to improve my ass.) My writing style has changed hasn't it? AHH WRITERS BLOCK AND ART BLOCK GOT ME

I am also open for requests pookies <33

[bunnylovesani]

The Bratty Belle

Chapter 1

Summary: You’ve just moved to the city and want to get to know your new neighbours. One very snarky and very handsome one in particular presents you with a challenge.

WC: 2k

After spending all day unpacking, you finally sat down to observe your new surroundings: you’d kept most of your old furniture, like the vanity table perched in the corner along with your beloved princess bed- complete with an intricately carved wooden headboard. The room was pleasantly familiar beside the new addition of white chiffon curtains that hung around your bed, shrouding you in a comforting cocoon. You let out a dreamy sigh, fiddling with the numerous pillows and plushies littered all over your plush bedding. You might be old enough to move to the big city and have your own condo, but you’ll still cuddle your tatty old teddy to sleep.

Peering out the window, you observe the neighbouring houses strewn along the street opposite, a green meadow separating the complexes. Most of them had a door and mailbox per floor, signifying that a different person resided on each of the levels. The same could not be said, however, for the last house at the very end of the street, which stood detached and boasted a single entryway. It was the only house you could see into being that it was directly opposite yours- unlike the other condos, which joined together in rows a little further up the road. You’d only moved in 2 days ago but noticed that the blinds were shut and the lights always remained off. Maybe no one lived there?

As a reward for your gruelling work unpacking, you took some candy along with your sketchpad and headed out to the field outside your new home. Deciding against another layer over your pink mini dress, you grabbed a picnic blanket and staked out the perfect spot - cosy and tucked away so that the neighbours down the road wouldn’t notice you. Your feet kicked the air playfully as you doodled the flowers in your line of sight, humming contentedly with a cherry-flavoured lollipop hanging from your lips. You were so engrossed in your sketch that you almost didn’t notice the shadow looming over you, blocking the warm sunlight.

“Who are you?” A tall man with dark features frowned at you and you looked up, mirroring his frown.

“I don’t talk to strangers.” You huffed, returning your attention to your notebook. That wasn’t strictly true- you were bubbly and befriended anyone who would have you but this man in particular intimidated you.

“What are you, ten?” He scoffed and raised his thick eyebrows, forehead wrinkles deepening.

Much to your annoyance, you could sense that he wasn’t leaving before he got a satisfactory response - so you put your pencil down and looked up at him again. His cerulean blue eyes shone so brightly they practically twinkled and a sharp spark flew through your heart at the sight. Rugged, almost-black hair choppily framed his chiselled face, which had smudges of dirt and sweat flecking his tanned skin. A manual labourer, perhaps?

“I’m Bunny. Jus’ moved in over there.” You turn around and point at the apartment behind you. “And you are?”

“Happy to see you.” His deep, raspy voice replied teasingly.

“I meant your name.” You corrected him snappily.

“My real one or a fake one like you just gave me?” You pout your lips; you didn’t like his sharp tongue.

“I’m James. James Kelly.” He said after a while of staring at your scrunched-up face. “I’ll call you by your stupid pet name if you crave affection that badly.”

Your mouth gaped open at his callous words and you felt as though you’d been unmasked. It was undoubtedly pathetic but the truth was you considered your first name to be too harsh, too cold. You much preferred being sensitively referred to by an affectionate pet name- one that people often didn’t realise they were being duped into using, assuming it was real. But not him.

“You won’t get the opportunity to use it, I’ll make sure of that.” You crossed your arms and furrowed your brows.

“Well you’re just a little ball of anger aren’t you?” He chuckled, finding your short temper adorable. “Very tense for one so young.”

“And you’re very nosy for one so old.” You gather your colouring pencils into your fluffy pencil case, your creative inspiration rattled by his presence. You surmised that he was at least 10 years your senior; his hands looked weathered but still supple, his crows feet visible but not yet entrenched.

“Hey, you don’t have to move, I’m leaving.” He protests but you’re already on your feet. “Alright moody, suit yourself.”

You shoot him a displeased look as you clutch your sketchpad tightly against your chest, turning your back to him and taking a step forward.

“By the way.” He adds and you halt tentatively. “You should really wear a longer dress if you’re gonna be laying down like that. I could see your panties.”

Your cheeks flush a burning red and you screw your eyes shut in embarrassment.

“They’re cute though. I like the strawberry print.” You can feel his grin beaming through his words and you want nothing more than to run away and never see his stupid handsome face again.

“Leave me alone.” You attempt to say confidently but it comes out as more of a squeak. You tried to walk off with as much dignity as you could manage under the pressure of his burning gaze but you ended up frantically skipping back, wanting to go home and bury your face in your pillows as soon as possible.

“What a rude man.” You thought. “Rude and irritatingly attractive.”

Later that evening, you took it upon yourself to bake several lots of chocolate chip cookies- eager to use them as a way of getting into your new neighbour’s good graces since you lived off a steady diet of praise and compliments. You separated the different batches and ordered them into various paper bags, each lovingly wrapped with a ribbon and placed delicately into a woven wicker basket. Glancing into the mirror before you set off, you manoeuvred your lace-trimmed tank top down a little to accentuate your cleavage- you loved to watch men struggle to maintain eye contact with you.

After determining your chest looked too bare, you bounded over to the bedroom to retrieve your favourite necklace- a dainty silver rabbit pendant. As you fiddled with the clasp, something out of the window caught your eye- you noticed that the house usually shrouded in darkness had a glimmer of light peeking through its half-opened blinds.

Curiosity inevitably got the better of you so you grabbed your baked goods and made a beeline to the dark house, intrigued by the prospect of who its resident might be.

Clearing your throat and brushing some creases out of your skirt, you press the sooty doorbell and hope your mystery neighbour is in a sociable mood. The hopeful smile is wiped off your face when the door opens and you see the same rude man from this morning before you.

“Look at that! My very own girl scout.” He laughs incredulously and you form a face of disgust.

“It’s you.” You recoiled.

“Try saying that with less repulsion.” He retaliated, eyes flicking between your frowning face, your tits and the basket of cookies. “Coming to a man’s house and being disappointed that he lives there. That a hobby of yours?”

“N-no, I didn’t know who lived here.” You stuttered, taking in the sight before you: he must’ve just gotten out the shower as his hair was dripping wet and his shirt unbuttoned, a silver cross necklace dangling over his collarbones and positioned between his firm pecs.

“Thought you said you don’t talk to strangers, let alone turn up at their house.” He cocked his head to the side, leaning against his doorframe. “Uninvited, at that.”

“I don’t. At least not the rude ones who make comments about a girl’s underwear.” You retorted petulantly.

“Hey, that was me looking out for you. Don’t know what kind of pervs live ‘round here- they could take advantage of a girl like you. Those for me?” He points at the basket.

“I-I guess.” You go to take out one bag but he snatches the whole basket. “What do you mean a girl like me?”

“Oh you know-“ He speaks casually, mouth half full of his first helping of baked goods already. “Ditzy. Spoilt and naive.”

You huff in disbelief- you’d hardly had two conversations with the guy and he’d managed to insult you several times already.

“Don’t get offended, princess. I’m sure you’re not used to people speaking so candidly with you but welcome to the real world.” He makes a face indicating that he was impressed with your confectionary, licking the crumbs off his fingers. “This your first time living away from home?” He points his second cookie at your face before stuffing that in his mouth too.

“Uh, yeah.” You drawl, confused. What planet was this guy from?

“Alone?” He lowers his voice, staring hungrily into your eyes.

“Yeah.” You squeak, wondering why your confidence had abandoned you.

“Shouldn’t have told me that.” He sneered. “I could be a predator and you’ve just armed me with the knowledge that you have no one to protect you.” His eyes look crazed and you get the sense that he got a kick out of playing around with you.

“Well, are you?” You reply unamused and he drops the act, looking at you through squinted discerning eyes.

“Mm, no.” He sniffed. “Haven’t got the stomach for it. Great cookies, by the way. You’re quite the little baker.”

You can’t resist the smile that creeps up on your face, delighted with his approval. “I try.” You humbly gleam, teetering on your tiptoes.

“Aw, you actually look sort of pretty when you’re not scowling.” Your glowing face drops in an instant, marred by his insult.

“Sort of?”

“Yeah. Like in an endearing but bratty child kind of way.” He notices your sullen face, tensed up with disapproval and confusion. “You’re not really my type, sweetheart.”

“Y-you’re not mine either!” You spit out a little too fast.

“The only difference is I don’t care.” He snorts and you remain in stunned silence, your ego bruised beyond words. “What’s the matter? Never had a man uninterested in you? Come in, I’ll make you a consolatory coffee.”

He gestures for you to enter and you walk in cautiously, following his lead to the lounge. His house was minimalist, fitted with sleek black furniture and a surprisingly clean kitchen at the other end of the living room.

“I don’t drink coffee. And what is your type then?” You sink down onto his leather armchair and cross your arms.

“I like a more mature, developed woman.” You look down at your large round breasts. “I meant emotionally.” He adds before you can say anything.

“I’m plenty mature.” You think grumpily. You knew better than to base your self-worth on the validation of a man but goddamn it, you wanted him to like you even if you didn’t like him.

“My type is also mature men.” You countered haughtily.

“I don’t recall asking.” He pours himself a coffee and sits down opposite you, continuing to steal glances at your chest.

“I also like them wealthy.” You add, spurred on by his disaffection.

“Like your daddy?” He smirks as he takes a sip and you scowl at him.

“Oh no, not the frown again.” He falters mockingly. “If looks could kill…you know Bunny, you shouldn’t let things get to you so easily.”

“Can’t help it. I’m sensitive.” You mumble half-mindedly, preoccupied with plotting all the ways in which you could seduce him. You tried to have self-respect, you really did, but it was just so hard. Especially when you’d just been dealt such an unprecedently juicy challenge; a man who didn’t want to sleep with you? It was practically unheard of and you humbly decided you would take it upon yourself to cure him of this affliction.

Next chapter

Taglist:

@crazy4hotmen @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10 @mugwump327 @offthethirlwall

[nhlclover]

jealousy | rutger mcgroarty

summary: a rare spur of jealousy leads to misplaced anger against your boyfriend

warnings: slight angst, kissing, NOT proofread soz

a/n: he is doing so good in the tournament rn

word count: 1.3k

Being Rutgers girlfriend doesn’t demand much. He likes kisses, taking me on dates, and just simply being in each other's presence. However, being Rutgers girlfriend also means I double as a hockey girlfriend. This means attending all the games, being there so that he can vent about the games and being a motivational speaker. I truly didn’t mind it though. Getting to see him live out his dreams made it all worthwhile.

Tonight was another game, this one against Ohio State. Normally I attend the games alone and sit in a section separate from the student section. However my friends, after seeing a video from the UMich hockey account that showed Mark fighting another player, wanted to come and see a game. This also meant they wanted to sit in the student section so they could “be in the thick of it”.

We joined the sea of students, also dressed in blue and yellow. Some people around us had signs, most of them chirping the opposing team, Ohio State. When the boys skated out, the student section roared. People banged on the glass, pumping up the others while they did their warmups. The noise only slightly diminished as the game started, with chants starting every few seconds. By the end of the 2nd period, it was 2-0 for Michigan. The student section was slightly less rowdy, as people went to the concession stands.

“Okay, but number two was the best, right?”

The mention of my boyfriends' number made my ears perk up. I look at the three girls sitting in front of us who are the only possible owners of the voice.

“His last name was McGroarty, go look on Instagram.” One of the girls says.

I look at her phone, see her type in Rutger’s last name, and click on his profile. “He is so cute.” She squeals.

“I don’t see a girlfriend.” Another girl says.

With Rutger's newfound fame from being drafted by Winnipeg, to UMich and the World Juniors, we thought it best to keep our relationship just between close friends and family for the time being. It was good, for the most part, except when girls would assume he was single just because he had no posts about his girlfriend.

“You know, I heard they go to Milo’s frat’s parties a bunch.” One of the girls says. “You could try and find him at the party Friday?”

There’s a twinge in my chest and my ears heat up. Who are these girls to think that they can just get with my boyfriend?

I thankfully didn’t have to endure much of their conversation any longer as the boys skated out onto the ice to begin the third period. They finished the game, winning 3-1 with Rutger securing the win with an empty netter.

We get up, walking out of the stands to where Rutger and the rest of the team will exit the building from. We’re about halfway there when I realize the girls from earlier are walking to the exact same place. The twinge from earlier returns and a wave of heat takes over my body. My friends and I stop a few feet away from the girls, who continue to talk about Rutger, adding in a few comments about Ethan and Mark.

The door opens, a few of the guys spilling out. You spot Rutger walking out beside Dylan. Before you can even get to him, the girls from earlier are by his side. They ask him about the game, telling him how well he played.

“Are you coming to the party on Friday? Beta Theta Phi?” One of the girls asks.

“Um, not sure. Maybe?” He tells them.

“Well, I’ll be looking for you.” She smiles, walking off with her friends.

I expect the twinge to dissipate as the girls leave, but it stays. Rutger joins my side, tossing an arm around my shoulders. “Hey girls, did you enjoy the game?” He asks my friends.

“Yes, are you kidding? We saw two guys start swinging at one another then proceeded to fall on their asses. There’s nothing better than that.” Melanie tells him.

“You ready to go?” He asks me. I nod in response, saying goodbye to my friends.

Johnny joins us, walking back to their shared dorm together. I’m noticeably quiet on the short walk home, letting Rutger and Johnny talk about their game while I try to navigate what I was feeling. I felt as if I was mad at Rutger, but couldn’t figure out why.

We get in their dorm, both boys flopping down on their respective. “I’m absolutely wiped.” Johnny sighs, pulling out his phone.

Rutger has his arms open, waiting for me to climb in as I normally do. When Rutger notices my hesitation, he props himself up on his elbows and looks at me with a confused look on his face.

“I think I’m probably going to sleep at mine tonight.” I tell him, stepping towards the door.

“Woah, woah. Why?” He asks, climbing out of bed and walking towards me.

“I just feel like being in my own bed tonight.” I lie straight through my teeth.

“I know you’re lying, y/n.” He says. “You always stay over after a game, plus you love to stay the night because you get to wake up in my arms.”

“Well… I just want to sleep at my place tonight.” I tell him.

Rutger's expression turns from one of confusion to one of hurt. “Babe, talk to me. What’s up?”

I glance behind Rutger's shoulder, seeing Johnny looking at us rather than at his phone. Realizing that he probably should let us talk alone, he scrambles out of his bed.

“Yeah, I’ll just… go to Luke’s or something. Maybe I’ll have a sleepover with Fants.” Johnny chuckles, pulling on some shoes quickly. He slips out the door leaving us alone.

“Can you tell me what’s up now?” Rutger asks me.

I sigh, sitting down on his desk chair. I open my mouth to speak but putting my thoughts into words seems impossible.

“I was sitting in the student section and these girls in front of me were talking about you, calling you cute and stuff, and saying how easy it would be to get with you.” I explain. “Then they came to talk to you after the game and I hated it! I don’t know why but I absolutely despised hearing them talk about you.”

I finish ranting, turning in his chair to look at him, only to see a smirk on his lips. “No way…” He says. “You’re actually jealous.”

“What? I’m not jealous.” I say, crossing my arms on my chest.

“Oh yeah, you are. You’re talking about how much other girls crushing on me is bothering you. Plus you’ve got this brooding look and your eyebrows are furrowed and you’re kind of pouting…wait.” He says, stepping towards me. “Are you trying to turn me on right now? Cause it’s working.”

“Rutger I’m serious.” I say, wiping the grin off his face.

“Sorry, sorry. But you have nothing to be jealous of. I’m all yours and no one else's.” He tells me, coming over and grabbing my hand. He pulls me up from the chair, placing his hands on my waist. “Other people are going to find me attractive and that’s something that’s gonna happen. I mean guys look at you all the time.”

“Other guys don’t look at me.” I say.

“Yeah they do, I’m pretty sure Luca had a thing for you for the first few months we were dating.” Rutger tells me, making me laugh. “Don’t tell him I told you though.”

“We’re always going to find each other being jealous of people that are attracted to the other and that’s just something we have to deal with.” He tells me. “But as long as we both know we’re committed to each other, there’s nothing to worry about.”

I give him a soft smile at his words. I lay a hand on his cheek, bringing him down to me. I softly kiss him, hoping the gesture works as a way to tell him thank you for easing my worries.

“You know,” Rutger starts as we separate. “Johnny’s sleeping… not here tonight, so we have the place to ourselves.” I laugh as he pulls me over to the bed.

[chasedbyatlantic]

finally alone, joel miller

masterlist summary: IN WHICH — you and joel miller are nothing but flirty towards each other, no matter the situation. when the two of you decide to take an unauthorized visit outside of jackson, it really shows.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson era!joel, gender neutral!reader, no use of y/n, fluff, implied-ish relationship, friends to lovers type beat, mentions of cheating/death/hooking up, reader is a bit of a player, stripping, swearing. lmk if i missed anything else!

wordcount: 2.3k

a/n: guys comment what u want me to write abt cuz im running out of ideas haha :,). remember to like, comment, reblog and follow for more! xoxo

—

It was a torrential downpour right now, the sun had disappeared hours ago and there was nowhere to wait it out. It was nice and sunny this morning when the two of you had left the walls, passing by the sleepy guards with no issues whatsoever. Tommy had given everyone working the walls instructions to not let you or his brother go through without clearing with Tommy first, but some rules are meant to be broken, right?

Not that you had a bad reputation, but not too many of the conservative mothers and elderly were fond of you. It had to have been because of your loud mouth, you had convinced yourself. But the weeks following yours and Joel's arrival, you were sure it was more than just your loud mouth. You were always on edge, and ready to fight people for what you needed- for Christ sake, you lived outside of the walls for ten years, you couldn't have been any different. It probably also didn't help that you hooked up with a married man or two, but that's besides the point.

You and Joel were partners, not literally, but the two of you had been teamed up for a while. You met at the Boston QZ when Marlene, the leader of the Fireflies, had tasked the both of you to move 'precious cargo'. You grew close to Joel, and eventually Ellie. After arriving at Jackson, Ellie had separated herself a bit from Joel and you, but you two remained tied at the hip, despite what everyone thought about it.

People had suspected and assumed what was happening between you and Joel, that you two were a couple and you were cheating on him with married men. First of all, the two of you weren't together, and second of all, those men wanted to fuck you, not the other way around. You and Joel had only laughed off the allegations, not really giving a shit about what anyone else thought about the two of you.

The two of you were completely drenched, right through your clothes, when you arrived at the place you had planned to visit, a Walgreens. Well, an outdated Walgreens. You could tell the place was still stocked with food after twenty years, there were just a few runners the two of you had to get rid of. You two were at the back of the Walgreens, the employee entrance. "Do we have to go in?" You asked, "I wanna stay out and dance in the rain!" You had to have your voice raised a bit, the water muting many of the room tone-like sounds.

He checked the clip in his pistol, before shoving it back in. "Y'ur actin' like we ain't gonna have all the time in the world to dance in there, plum." You hated that, plum. First of all, he knew you absolutely hated the name, second of all, plums were your least favourite fruit. "I'll feed you to those runners if y'ain't careful." You threatened him.

Joel shook his head, knowing you wouldn't do anything. It was funny, really, you saying you would hurt him. He found it cute if anything. "Ya' know what to do in there, you get one'n I'll get the others." You nodded your head as Joel silently opened the door. The three runners in there turned their head and screamed, immediately running to the two of you. They spared you some time, though, from tripping over everything in the way.

Joel went first, shooting at the one that had flew over for him. It went down without a fight, and you had leaped over its body in a careful matter. You were better in hand-to-hand combat, so you had your machete swinging to cut half a head off of the runner. When the runner you had killed fell to the floor, another gunshot and body drop was heard from where Joel was. You turned to see all three down, Joel almost grinning. "Too easy, eh?"

You shook your head, your eyes rolling. "Alright pretty boy," You said, "Help me drag 'em outside." He holstered his weapon, sliding a sly 'yes ma'am' to you before helping, knowing that would drive you crazy. It did, though you chose to ignore it. The two of you were very flirty with each other, it was a second nature in all honesty. Though, you didn't mind it, Joel was anything but ugly.

He helped you bring the former-runners outside, it only took a couple minutes - you two didn't want to go back outside, but you had to do what needed to get done. Once the two of you were finished, Joel had locked the door, which meant the two of you were stuck in here for a while. "Did the list get destroyed?" You questioned him, as he searched through his bag. Joel, not long after, took out a small piece of paper with a grin on his face. "All good."

Not too long after, you were down one aisle, Joel the one beside. You decided to sort of split up, and efficiently scavenge for what you needed to get. You two wanted to keep this place on the downlow, in case things ever went south in Jackson and you needed a place to take Ellie to. It was perfect, really, despite the few runners that were here previously. Food, water, medicine, shelter, everything you needed when the world was in this state.

The two of you were in comfortable silence, until you broke it. "Joel?" You had called out, a small 'hm?' being returned from him not long after. "What type of, uh- lotion did she want? There's forty different kinds." Your eyes scanned the shelf, reading every different label. Ellie had promised you that she wouldn't tell anyone about yours or Joel's whereabouts if you picked her up this certain type of lotion, one to help her bite be less itchy, or something.

"Uh," He began, "Nivea? 'M not sure." Your eyes scanned the shelf once more, before picking up the bottle and sliding it in your bag. It almost slipped out of your hands, you were still completely drenched from the shitty weather outside. Just as you were about to leave that aisle, and join Joel at his, something caught your eye. This is perfect, you thought to yourself, you needed a good laugh and this would crack you up.

You reached for the wrapped box, "Joel?" You had called out once more. You heard shifting around from the other side, "What is it?" He replied. You threw the box over to his side, putting your hand over your mouth as you tried to muffle your laughs. The thud of the box hitting the floor was the only other sound, other than you laughing of course.

"Really?" Was heard from the other side, "Condoms? Real fuckin' mature o'you." This sent you through the roof, honestly. Maybe it was the lack of sleep you had been getting for the last few weeks, or that this was genuinely ridiculous, but you just bursted out with laughter. Let the whole world hear you, you thought to yourself, who cares.

"I'm sorry!" You had exclaimed in between laughs, "It was too fuckin' funny not to!" You slipped past into Joel's aisle, looking for him. He wasn't there. Your laughs calmed down, "Joel?" You drug out the last part of his name, curiously stepping forward. As soon as you did that, you felt arms wrap around you and pick you up. Not arms of a clicker, no, but arms that felt too familiar to your waist.

Joel spun you around, his chin resting in the crook of your neck from behind. The roles were reversed, he was now the one with the laughing fit and you were the unamused one. You had let a few 'let me go!'s escape your lips, trying your best to stay upset, though it didn't work for long. Joel set you down after a few more spins, trying his best not to fall over from the dizziness.

Things between the two of you were complicated, you hooked up all the time but were nothing official. It felt weird, making things official during a time like this. Nobody wanted to care for someone too much, since they didn't know what tomorrow would bring. It was a mutual feeling, you were sure of it, you just didn't know what to do about it.

"I hated that." You flatly-as-possible said that to him, as you turned and faced him. He met your gaze, you could stare into his eyes all day. "That's what you get." He had simply replied to you with, this earned a confused look and a raised eyebrow from you, "Excuse me?" Joel could only hold his smile back, "They were too small, should've at least thrown over the right size."

For fuck sakes, Joel Miller. You slapped him on the shoulder after he broke the shared gaze and walked off, yelling a 'Christ, Joel!' as you chased after him. He drove you crazy, and he knew that. Not a bad crazy, not anything close to that. Whatever crazy it may be, it was mutual.

With another hour of scavenging under the two of yours' belts, you both grew tired. You were still wet from outside, your hair had started to dry, though. Both Joel and you had found an upstairs to the grocery store, it looked to be an employee break room or something like that. You had brought up a few blankets, candles and matches, and a change of clothes. You had set up the candles around your room, not as a romantic gesture, but as a light source. Obviously the power wasn't working, and the two of you needed to see what you were doing.

Joel had set up the blankets by the time the last candle was lit, a proud look to his face. You took notice, as you shrugged off your bag and bent down to untie your boots. "You're a great blanket-layer, Mister Miller." He tsked when you had said that, "No need to remind me." He took notice of you starting to unzip your pants, and push them down. He rose his brow, waiting for you to explain what you were doing.

You took notice of this after you had removed your pants, and stood back up to get your shirt, "What? I'm soaked." Joel had completely forgot about that, in all honesty. His clothes were soaked through as well, no doubt in that, he was just too caught up in the moment with you that he had pushed it to the side. He had removed his shirt as you took yours off, if someone else was to see this, they would definitely think something else was happening.

You two had stripped down to just your undergarments and towel-dried yourselves off. God bless Walgreens for carrying everything, you had thought to yourself. In no time, the two of you were dressed back up in comfortable clothes for the time being, making an unspoken decision that you guys would spend the night.

You were the first one to lay down on top of the blankets Joel had set up, Joel was looking through his bag for something. "Can we just stay here forever, you'n me?" You asked, eyes closed and sprawled out. He could only chuckle in response, "What 'bout Ellie?" Shit, you had forgotten about her. You were too caught up being with just Joel that you had forgot Ellie was at home, probably wondering where the fuck the two of you were. "Pass me the walkie," You asked, "Let me call her."

That was what you did, you went onto the right channel and began talking into the walkie talkie. It took a minute or two until you actually got a response from Ellie. She had made sure you two were fine, and not 'absolutely fucking deceased' (her words, not yours). With much reassurance and whatnot, you soon bid your farewells to her, and had promised you would be back the following day. Ellie had also made the comment saying not to 'come back knocked up', sounding like your mother. This earned Joel to yell at her from the background, but only made you laugh. You loved that kid, like your own.

You placed the walkie down, moving to one side of the not-so-bed bed. "Joel," You groaned, "Hurry up, I'm freezing." You complained. You were in wet clothes for hours, you were bound to be frostbitten at this point. Joel was your heat source for tonight, though he didn't mind, not one bit. With you basically cuddled up to him the entire night, it brought ease to him sleeping.

He shortly lay down beside you, stretching his arm out which had only caused you to lay on his chest. He was chewing something, it smelled too familiar. "What're you eating?" You had hummed, a yawn following your question. "Dried plum." He only replied, doing everything in his power to suppress his grin.

You shook your head, well, as much as you could with your head laying on Joel's chest. "Where the fuck did you even get dried out plums? That's the stupidest thing ever." Joel didn't think it was, plums were his favourite fruit- he wouldn't say anything about that, though, not yet. If you didn't want to eat any plums, he would help you out. This was another case of the olive theory. "One of Maria's friends does 'em, seriously, you should try 'em."

You bickered with him about it for a moment, dropping it the next. Joel loved when you bickered with him, it made you two sound like an old, married couple- though you weren't, not yet. He loved how you would rant on about your hate for plums, or what you had done during the day throughout Jackson. He was just happy to be finally alone with you, not being able to handle anymore time spent not by your side.

—

finally alone, mac demarco

[sexc-snail]

"The One" - Shanks x reader

A/N: fuck you I write x reader fanfic now, don't get used to it. Shanks is kinda obsessed with you and maybe even a little out of character but it's cute. (Loosely) Inspired by "Billie Jean" by The Civil Wars, a huge thank you to the lovely @fanaticsnail for introducing me to the song to prompt this fic.

This was meant to be posted on Christmas Day but Tumblr didn't want to register paragraph breaks between the separate dot points and thought I had pasted a single long paragraph, which breaks the text character block limit and blocked me from posting or even saving as a draft.

Summary: You meet Shanks at the tavern where you work who promptly flirts with you, insisting that he is "The One". Naturally sceptical of such a charismatic pirate's charms being true, you keep your distance by insisting that you'll only be the one he dances with, nothing more. Except he keeps coming back, and it's getting harder and harder to remember to keep your guard up as he continues to dance with you for nights on end. Then one day a boy comes and everything threatens to fall apart.

Word count: 3,426

You’d met Shanks at the tavern where you worked.

You were wiping down the bar, boredom and the stifling heat suffocating you until you were polishing the same spot repeatedly until you would have sanded it into a small dent had you not been interrupted

The door suddenly slammed open with raucous laughter, a crowd barging into the room headed by one man

Red hair tickled his neck, framing peach fuzz that decorated a bright smile, warm brown eyes (one with a set of three scars across it) that made you think of honeyed tea, an unbuttoned shirt putting tanned skin on display.

The man shouted to the room, “first round’s on me lads!” generating loud applause

He paused in the middle of the crowd, turning his head with furrowed brows until his eyes landed on you, and he grinned.

He navigated the crowd with the natural skill of a fish through water. Like it was his habitat.

Leaning over the bar with his charming grin he asked your name and gave his own. Shanks. But you wouldn’t need to know it, seeing as all you had to know was that he was “The One”.

That made you raise your brow.

Naturally sceptical of such a flirt (and particularly one with such electric magnetism that commanded the room) you denied it. But when he jutted his – perfectly soft and plump – lip out in a pout the thought of denying such an opportunity outright tugged at your chest.

In a compromise you had offered to be ‘the one’ he could dance with at the end of the night, assuming that by the time you’d managed to have a break from serving the rowdy crew he’d be too drunk to care.

Except that wasn’t the case. He’d nursed a beer the whole night, and when you’d offered to refill it he’d refused. Stating he didn’t want to give you more work and prolong your dance. You’d scurried away before the flush in your cheeks could get any worse.

By the end of the night, most of the crew had escaped into the night or lay slumped in chairs, and Shanks had offered his hand.

You’d expected different – expected him to press against you, swaying to a fast beat, holding you tight. To be honest the idea gave you a little thrill. If you could get it out of your system maybe then you could sweep away the flutter in your chest with the justification that you were right and the cheap satisfaction of one sinful night.

Except, as before, he surprised you once again. One hand held yours in a soft grip while the other rest against your waist. Never drifting lower, in a touch so light it was almost hovering yet present enough that you could feel its warmth through your clothing. Only leaving you wanting more

Maybe that was his plan then. Teasing you until you succumbed to his whims. But then there would be no need for him to actually move you around with purpose, even lifting your clasped hands to twirl you once. And you swore you could hear him humming along to the music anytime you happened to brush closer.

By the end of the night you managed to pull yourself away with what you hoped was a calm demeanour, feeling his calloused palm brush against your own as he pressed a quick kiss to the back of your hand before you managed to escape entirely

When they left you thought that was the end of it. One fleeting night. One ‘almost’. One slip in your defences

Except he came back after a couple weeks.

You were out back when he’d returned, only for one of your coworkers to approach you with a sly look saying a gentleman had asked for you by name.

Initially you were suspicious. Wary, even. And you should have remained so once you saw who it was. Yet the flutters in your chest won the battle and a smile and a blush crossed your face before you had a chance to school your expression.

Shanks was waiting at the bar. Drink untouched before him as the condensation gathered on the wood. You didn’t even think he knew it was there, his attention flitted about the room without sparing it a glance before his eyes landed on you.

His face lit up, and you had a hard time reeling in your heart as you reminded yourself of his natural charm

Once again, he asked to be “The One”, and once again you specified that he could be the one you danced with, but nothing more.

Once again, he took you to the dance floor, and once again you felt your heart glide alongside you as this time he took to leading you about the room, treating it with the dimensions of a ballroom but still taking care to keep you with him as he effortlessly wove through his drunken crewmates.

This continued for a while. He would ask to be your “One”, you would compromise on a dance, and he would lead you with such care and passion that you almost forgot why you were so opposed to the idea of him being “The One” anyway

Each time he left he promised to continue coming back until he had finally convinced you. And each time he returned you believed it a little more.

His dances ranged from light-hearted jigs, to exaggerated twirls and sways, to the simple aimless meandering

You usually waited until the end of the night, when less prying eyes would see you vulnerable – somehow you never fret about Shanks seeing you vulnerable. With him it didn’t feel like a sacrifice, it felt like a comfort.

There was of course the odd time where he’d allow more passion to sneak into the dances, holding you closer and moving with more fluidity than before. Good Gods above that man could move his body like water. These dances were more fuelled by playful fun and passion of movement, and though the fast beat made your hearts race and skin flush as your breaths came out in quick pants you never felt pressed to do more, despite the underlying tension filling the air.

Once, when you had somehow had a lull in your shift, he had even managed to convince you to join in a circle dance with the whole tavern, crew and villagers alike mixing together as they traded partners. Each time you felt him pass you – having grown so attuned to feeling his body near you that you could sense him even when he was behind you – as you joined another dancer you resisted the urge to turn to him. To reach out.

Funnily enough, by the end of the night you hadn’t even danced with him and he’d asked for a solo once you finished work. That was the first time he stayed past closing, even helping you shift the chairs and finish up. Leaving the bar with just you two in it

He held you close, swaying on the spot as he hummed a tune to compensate for the lack of music once everyone had left

He didn’t try to convince you to dance with others after that night.

One night you were upset. As much as you loved your island it felt stagnant. Like hibernation. And you mourned for something that was never yours – adventure.

Of course this would be the night that Shanks returned, and even his presence couldn’t sway your foul mood.

He began to ask his question when you interrupted him to deny him, but he quickly continued. Asking if he could be the one who gets to talk to you. No dancing necessary.

Something about his soft voice, and his consideration for your feelings broke the dam and you spilled everything to him before you even knew what you were saying. Confessing how lonely and unfulfilled you felt. How you longed for more. How you felt trapped.

He listened without judgement, offering a reassuring word here and there to make sure you knew you weren’t bothering him, weren’t being ungrateful, were allowed to feel this way

By the end of your rant you felt a lot better than you’d expected to. You offered him a dance in thanks, but he shook his head.

“This is enough.”

That night, he walks you home. That night, your relationship shifts.

You still restricted yourself to dances, but now there was a current of some kind in the air between you. Even when you didn’t dance you felt it.

It was becoming harder to remember why you held such reserve in the first place

And then you were reminded

A young boy with dark raven hair and a scar below his left eye – in the same place as Shanks’, smiles up at you. Only coming up to your knee, he introduces himself as Luffy

He tells you he came here on the Red-Haired Pirates ship and your heart sinks

Of course. You knew this was coming and yet you were still stupid enough to let your guard slip. To be fooled by a man – a pirate! – and his flirtations when it was only ever a game to him. Either he had a family – a son and a partner – that he returned to when he wasn’t using you for his own entertainment. Or he shirked the responsibility of his son and partner, and didn’t care about them as he flirted his way through bars.

Honestly, you don’t know why you expected more.

No… that was a lie. You did know why you expected more. It was because it was Shanks. The man who snuck his way into your heart just to break it before you’d even known he was there.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, the door to the tavern swings open.

You see his mouth open and before he has a chance to speak, to poison the air with his silly little question you allowed yourself to be fooled by, you cut him off. Scolding him for allowing a child out of his sight to wander a strange new island alone and end up in a bar

Confusion crossed his face, and you tried to ignore the cute scrunch of his freckled nose, before his eyes landed on Luffy who was happily slurping down a bowl of ramen at the bar, his feet swinging beneath him on the high stool.

A myriad of emotions flashed across Shanks’ face. Confusion, shock, anger, before he looked back to you. Seeing your hardened glare, his head swivelled back to Luffy, then back to you, realisation crossing his face before it settled into an expression of fear.

“I didn’t—that’s not—he’s not—” your eyes narrowed further and a sneer curled your lip before you quickly shook your head, shaking off the emotions, and turn to leave.

You had turned the sign to ‘closed’ once Luffy had shown up. Your coworker had called in sick earlier that day so it was just you on the drinks. You could live one night without manning the bar.

You can’t go back to your house. He knew where that was. So you ended up wandering the streets until you found a sufficiently out of view back alley to wallow in

Shaking hands fisted at your hair as you buried your head between your knees. Eyes screwed shut tightly so you wouldn’t have to see the tears you could feel falling.

Stupid. You were so stupid.

“Do you have any more of that ramen?”

Jolting back with a start you crouched in an almost defensive position. Scared of the captain that would follow the boy.

He was alone. At least that was some luck in your string of unfortunate events.

“No. I make it for myself for when I have a long shift and need the lunch.” Sniffing ugly globs of snot back into your nose you scrubbed at your eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see the damage.

No need to be mean to the boy, it wasn’t his fault.

“Are you hungry? There’s a takoyaki stall around here.”

You ended up buying Luffy seven sticks of takoyaki before you told him the vender had run out, and maybe it was your reddened eyes and blotchy cheeks but she went along with your lie, sparing your wallet

Luffy asked a lot of questions – often with his mouth full – about Shanks’ adventures, about how pirates were supposed to eat takoyaki, about you. He even seemed to recognise you after a moment

“OH, you’re the dancer! Shanks told me all about you!”

That gave you pause.

“He did?”

Luffy nodded furiously, “Yeah, he said not all treasure is gold or maps or gems and junk. Treasure is what you search for and want most of all. Then he said something about his dancer having his ‘one’ but he wasn’t yours so he was going to bring you a ‘one’, or maybe kill you a ‘one’… something like that, I think. He didn’t say one of what though.”

Luffy picked at his nose absentmindedly, before noticing he was walking alone

“Hey, why’d you stop?”

“Luffy… why did your dad bring you here?”

Luffy scrunched up his face, looking at you like you’d started yodelling in the street.

“My who?”

Oh my God.

“How did you get here, exactly?”

“I snuck onto Shanks’ ship while he was docked at our island.”

Oh my God. You have to go back right now.

Quickly scooping Luffy in your arms you ran back to the tavern. Entering through the staff’s entrance you plopped Luffy down in the kitchen, telling him he could eat the (cooked) food to his heart’s content so long as he didn’t run off again and stayed quiet.

Shanks was slumped at the bar. Head pressed against the wooden countertop as his left arm – no, left shoulder – attempted to shield him from the world and his right arm twisted a hand in his hair in a grip that had to hurt.

When had that happened?

He didn’t seem to hear your approach.

Gently, as if you were handling the most precious and delicate treasure in the world, you reached for the hand clenching his hair.

Your fingers just barely grazed his when Shanks jerked upright with a start. The force sent him wobbling off his stool and you worriedly reached to steady him, only for him to near throw himself at you. His right hand grabbed your left, though he quickly loosened his grip before you could even register how tight he grasped you, only leaving a pleasant tingle where he had squeezed. Always ever so careful about your comfort. His right shoulder reached for you as well, taking a few second to register that there was nothing connected before dropping back to his side. He stared at you, letting silence pass for a beat as his eyes refused to leave you, seeming to not blink or breath.

You heart reached for him, and this time you followed it. Your fingers threaded with his and he gasped as if he was suddenly doused in ice cold water.

“You’re here! I thought— I thought you were jus’ in m’ head – you were in my head – but you’re here—”

He seemed to remember why you had left in the first place.

“He’s not my son – I mean, he’s a great kid and he’s definitely gonna at least take over the world or destroy it someday—”

“Shanks.”

“But he’s not mine— I would never do that to you—”

“Shanks.”

“I would never do that to anyone, but least of all you,”

He was rambling. The Red-Haired Yonko Shanks, the same man who’d sept you off your feet and swung you around sticky wooden boards with enough suave to make it seem like he was gliding across a stage was rambling. And stuttering.

“-and I should have said something sooner—”

“Shanks!”

He sucked in a quick gasp, watching you with bated breath.

Okay. He’d been brave enough for the both of you. Now it was your turn.

Your right hand reached and rested on his shoulder, far enough to avoid aggravating the potentially tender area but close enough to convey the message of touch. You brushed your thumb against his intertwined hand gently.

“May I be the one to have this dance?”

His face sagged in relief and his eyes swam with wet adoration. Half chuckles shook his body as he brought himself closer to you until you felt his laughter on your face. Lifting your hand from his shoulder, and rushing once you saw the kicked puppy look flit across his face, your caressed his cheek with your hand.

Feeling his beard tickle your palm you moved your hand backwards to thread through his hair – treating it with care as you smoothed out where he’d been wringing his hand through previously.

Satisfied, you curled your hand around the back of his head and pulled him to you until his forehead pressed against yours.

“Will you let me be the one to dance with you?” You prompted again

“Sweetheart,” he sighed out, “If I ever say no to that, feel free to take my other arm.”

“I was meaning to ask about that—”

“Later.” He rushed out, bumping his head against yours to brush your noses together.

Later, then. For now? You danced.

“Come with me.”

It was a whisper. The only reason you caught it was your close proximity, the sentence fanning across your face as he dragged his nose to leave a peck to your temple and nuzzle into your hair. He didn’t whisper out of shyness or insecurity. Rather a reluctance to shatter the moment you shared with unnecessary noise.

As if sensing your confusion he continued, this time his lips brushing against the shell of your ear with every word.

“On my ship. Sail away with me.”

You began to pull your head back to look at him, moving the hand around his neck so you’d have room to part, but he chased after you, causing you two to stumble slightly and – instinctively – your hand reached out to steady the both of you. Wrapping your right arm behind his waist, all the way around to rest your hand on his other side to hold you two closer together to his wishes.

“I’ve been thinking of it ever since that night.”

That night. So it wasn’t just you.

“I’d keep you safe. Take you anywhere you wanted to go. I’d never let you feel lonely, or trapped, or stuck. And if you did I wouldn’t let you feel it alone. I’ll do my best to keep you happy, I promise. I’ll never let you doubt the way I feel about you ever again. You’re the one for me. You’re it.”

“Shanks,” You breathed. He paused, right hand tightening its grip around your left

“Ask me.”

His breath hitched with excitement

“Will you please let me be the one for you, sugar?”

You smiled, turning your head to chase his question, and when you gave your answer this time, you breathed it against his lips.

“Yes.”

Bonus:

“Also, I lost the kid.”

You snorted, “that should definitely have been higher up on your list of priorities,”

“I had other things on my mind!” His voice rose an octave in defence. “Besides, the kid can take care of himself.”

You pinched his side lightly, where your arm wrapped around his waist, and he let out an exaggerated hiss of pain

“That’s not how kids work, but luckily he doesn’t have to.”

Shanks furrowed his brows in confusion.

You lead him to the kitchen, only to find small raven-haired boy passed out among bowls and bones of meat. His belly (quite a lot larger now) rising and falling in tandem with a bubble of snot on his nose.

[wandasfifthwife]

Din Djarin | misunderstandings

Din Djarin x fem!reader

tw: pinning after each other, sorta confessions, misunderstandings, reader used to be mandalorian, reader gets a bit insecure, din is confused, mentions a past-gunshot wound, hurt/comfort, happy ending

a/n: idk if this fandom alive anymore but I still love this man sooo, enjoyment is wished upon whomever this lands upon. This is shit writing and I’m so sorry. I’ll re-read and edit later (if you read and enjoy this now… thank you for loving me at my lowest fr)

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You’ve been on his ship now for almost a year, the months feeling like they were slowing down the further time went by. He originally treated you like a co, only asking what was needed, very obviously separating you from his personal life.

The ship had crashed some time ago, the both of you stranded on a desert planet for almost two months. Something had shifted, changed, and it got worse. The air felt thinner when he was close and your heart would pound.

You felt he cared to listen when you began to share small details about you like where you grew up, what scares you, how you got a scar on your forearm. You felt he began to change too.

“cyar’ika,” his tone is straightforward, “go to bed, you’re just straining your muscles now.”

It scared you when he began to use that instead of your name. You were too frightened to ask what it meant. The only tone he speaks in is monotone and he wears a helmet, it’s hard to read him. Everytime you think you begin to understand, you feel him slipping further away.

You hear a banging sound, one that happened because you drop the boxes from your grip.

“Was only trying to help,” you quip, stepping beside him to enter into the ship.

He shuts the door behind you, asking about the kid. You arrange the boxes so they’re out of the way, “he fell asleep minute after you left.”

He hums, the sound muffled slightly from his helmet. You stand near him to try and get the last package, though with the distance and your strength the box ends up falling to the ground and on your foot. You almost go still from the pain, chest growing tight as you tried to work through the pain. The mandalorian takes the box off of your foot as soon as it fell, a hiss sounding from him.

His body is tense when you try to walk, obvious pain showing on your face. He’s oblivious to how it cringes even more at the name. Sitting yourself down, you cradle your foot, tears coming to your eyes and you blink them away. The sight of tears startles him.

“Your injury, is it hurting that—?”

“No,” you cut him off, “I’ll be fine, I think it just bruised it.”

He offers you a hand, “ner sarad. Get off the floor.”

You swat it away and attempt to get up on your own. How stupid could you be? He’s only ever called you these names in an accusing manner. You had hope, but now that you’re looking back, you’ve lost it.

Last week he used it when you had gotten shot in the shoulder after chasing him for hours. About a month ago you remember him using his language in an angry manner when you argued.

A quiet sob escaped you, “why are you always getting angry at me?” You go limp when his hands come under you, lifting you so he can place you down on his bed. You’re stuck between wanting to push him away and pulling him closer to you. He works on removing your shoe and lifting your pant leg with a sigh.

“The words I’ve been using are terms of endearment,” he gently rubs his thumb over the already forming bruise, “cyar’ika means beloved.”

“I thought you were cursing my name out, using them as expressions of anger.”

“I started using them since you mentioned you were mandalorian once.”

He pats your thigh, getting off the ground to grab the medical supplies. You wince as he wraps your foot tightly, “I was, but we’ve never used those terms. We only called one another by our given name. I didn’t know those words existed.”

“And I’m a fool for assuming your clan was the same as mine.”

“Not a fool,” you smile at him, “you were trying to flirt and I interpreted it as sarcasm. I’m the fool.”

He stands, a hand coming to cup your cheek, “I can teach you, ner kar’ta.”

Your hand covers his, a shiver going through you at the warm feeling of his glove, “what is ner kar’ta?”

“My heart.”

[scoutsbabygirl]

I would like to see headcanons from you about how your favorite mercenaries realize that they fall in love with the reader :333

🎷🐛

my first request! hi my little meow meow! i wrote for all the mercs bc why not?! fluff below the cut! also written in headcannon form! idk how to write for soldier (i just don't see the appeal)

scout:

-why did ms. pauling have to be lesbian???

-when you came along he was immediately drawn to you, maybe it was because you were new and young

-he's way too cocky around you and acts like he doesn't care about you

-after a stern talking to by spy, jeremy decides to ask you out

-other than sports, jeremy loves to paint and draw and is surprisingly good at it. he asks you to make some art with him and of course he draws you

-this melts your heart and you've fallen for him. he's just waiting for the right time to confess and ask you to be his

soldier:

-man has zhanna

pyro:

-hearing you say "you're all good! no worries!" after he lights the hem of you shirt, almost burning you alive. he feels a spark...literally

-pyro slinks around you where ever you may be. in the kitchen baking? pyros throwing flour all over the kitchen. working out? pyros cheering you on. got some spare time? pyros got some crayons, colored pencils and a bunch of coloring books

-spending time with a masked man that the team fears has him drawn to you. the mercs warned you about him, you never felt intimated by pyro yet understood yet you could understand why he was treated differently

-if you're ever sad he will give you the best comfort. he's never shown himself to the mercs but once he sees you cry the mask is coming off and expect kisses to be planted over you

-its a very intimate moment and he just admits it then. he's never had anyone love him back, he's always been depicted as a monster.

heavy:

- won't approach you first. he waits for you to make a move. he knows his size is intimidating in itself and doesn't want to scare you away.

-he's a gentle giant. he's very careful with his words and movements. he's so paranoid that you'll view him as something he's not on the inside.

- one night you cooked with him and he told you all about his life back home, showed you photos of his sisters and taught you basic russian (assuming you don't know any already)

-if you speak russian he'll be over the moon or if you use the simple russian he's taught you he loves you just a little bit more. he adores your accent when you stumble over certain pronunciation. he knows you're the one for him

-when he decides to confess he handwrites you a long poem with an russian to english translation on two separate pages. after he signs his name he writes that he won't bring this up unless you do

-please don't break his heart. he's so sensitive

demo:

- when he confesses he's drunk as fuck. he doesn't even remember when you bring it up the next day.

-is so embarrassed. he's hungover and groggy. he plays it off by acting defensive. "i was just drunk! i meant nothing by it!"

-in the inside he's freaking out. he wanted to plan it out. it's only been 7 or 8 months since you've been at teufort but he fell so quick for you.

-3am outside pointing at the constellations, telling you about old celtic, scottish myths and folklore, shit talking the other mercs, and an accidental kiss on the lips he caught feeling for you right then and there.

- he's willing to give up scrumpy just to have you reciprocate the same feelings for him. 🤞

engineer:

-lord, he used so many pet names with you; "check this out, sweet pea", "you look beautiful, darling", "i made pancakes, you want any hon?"

-he knows his voice with a combination of his pet names do something to you. he loves when you call him those names back!

-compliment his cooking! bbq is his specialty! he'll gladly eat up anything you make. hungry boi :3

-he loves when you spend time with him in his workshop, working on his little metal trinkets warms his soul. he tries to teach you about the intricate parts of engineering. it's okay if you don't understand, he's more than willing to break it down for you and teach you a bite-sized version quantum mechanics

-friday night. a few beers in. a lot of work finished. "(y/n), i know i'm a bit older and dusty at the whole romance thing but" he pauses "you ain't seeing anyone right now, are you?"

medic:

-he either falls in love with you the second he lays his eyes on you or it takes many, many months for him to catch feelings for you. regardless, of how long the process takes his love for you becomes an obsession.

-you begin lingering around his office, inquiring about his tools and weapons. he finds it very interesting that you're not startled by him and his... unethical ways of "doctor assisted suicide"

-internal battles with his conscience. does he want to rip your organs out and shove them in the wrong places? he wants to slice your arteries one by one. yes, he wants to cut your jugular and see how much you bleed before dying. alas, he won't. you're too beautiful to be cut up into pieces. he doesn't want you to die by his hands, he doesn't know what he would do with himself.

-"guten morgen, wie gehts?!" has him weak. just a simple phrase you've rehearsed a few times. you though he would appreciate you taking time out of your day to learn his native tongue. he thinks this is your way of flirting with it (and perhaps it is).

-occasionally he'll call you into his office, not for a checkup by any means but rather just to chat (on company time). he removes the gloves and runs his hands over the scars on your face and neck. "schätzelein, i have been feeling some way for a while."

sniper:

-he is such a cunt. he's so rude and bitchy to you. his attitude causes you to avoid contact with mick at all costs and he avoids you like the plague. he spends a lot of time in his van anyways so staying away from you isn't too hard.

-seeing you hurt breaks his heart. he decides to visit you in medbay after your broke your arm. the baboo uterus experiment procedure wasn't finished by the time you got hurt. you notice how out of character it is but appreciate it regardless. he brings you a little necklace made with animal teeth (him making jewerly with animal bones is the most canon-noncanon headcanon.)

-after you get a cast you ask him to sign it. next to his name he writes a little heart. then scribbles it out. and draws a skull underneath it.

-butterflies in his stomach when he lays eyes on you. he hates that he's gotten feelings for you. you're his teammate, not his partner. not yet atleast. no? why is he thinking like this.

-it's obvious that mick is touch starved of attention, he want to be validated and appreciated. he's also getting shit from his teammates so when you begin to stand up for him and complimenting him he looses his mind.

"scout, you're being mean. no wonder you have no dad, i would leave too. " "he's not ugly at all. you're old and its evident enough in those wrinkles of yours."

-oh god. who knew a petite little thing like you could spit venom. he wants to tell you how he feels so badly but he doesn't want to loose you as a friend.

spy:

-he'll flirt with you before even developing feelings for you. always trying to court you, inviting you over at late hours. he just wants to get laid tbh.

-you're playing hard to get. it excites him a bit but he's much older now so if anything he's annoyed that you won't sleep with him. he tries being more romantic and pushes idea the idea of getting with you sexually and takes a different approach.

-smoking on his red velvet couch until the sun begins to rise, sharing cigs together. he has a small stash of weed (he stole it from scout) but coughs when he smokes it, earning a plethora of giggles from you. now he's smiling and laughing with you despite his lungs being filled with smoke.

-stacks of guy de maupassant on his table near the red couch, he reads the love poems to you and translates it to you. please snuggle up into his chest and try to read the french words yourself. your pronunciation is horrible and your accent is awful. you sound so cute yet so pathetic at the same time.

-he tries to keep his feelings hidden for as long as he can. of course, it slips out. he's stopped wearing the balaclava when around you (and only you, even his own son doesn't know what he truly looks like) so the bright red blush is evident on his face. he tries taking back what he said but there's no use as your already face first into his chest.

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 12: Animals

Joel makes sure Bambi stays safe from Simon. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-11 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence (torture and death.) No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 5.5k 

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

August 29, 2023

The howl was distinctive. Three shorter cries and one longer one. 

You knew what that meant. 

Your morning rounds to collect prey from traps had been fruitful - netting you two rabbits so far - and you’d been able to forage for some vegetables and roots, too. It was getting to be late enough in the summer that you knew you needed to start preserving more. Winters were harsh and lean. You no longer struggled like you had 20 years ago, back when you were barely out of your teens and still trying to figure out how to safely cook let alone survive an apocalypse, but it still took conscious effort to not starve to death when the cold weather came. Today’s harvest would help with that. 

But only if the intruders on your land didn’t try to take it from you. 

You clicked your tongue at Nike and gave her ribs a gentle squeeze before urging her into a trot and then a canter toward the source of the howling. 

It didn’t take you long to find, responding to the howl with your designated whistle, starting low and ending high. The dog howled again and you were able to tell where she was, finding her before too long. 

Your other dogs had beaten you there. It looked like Ruger, one of your Belgian Malinois, had been the one to find the three men and one horse who had wandered onto your land. She was standing, teeth bared, in front of them, keeping watch for her sisters. Gattling, the other Bel Mal - both from the same litter, given to you a few years back by a man who’d taken up breeding and training attack dogs at the end of the world - had them at the back. The herding dogs - Venus and Juno - were at their sides, pushing the men closer and closer together. 

You raised your shot gun. 

“Who the fuck are you and why’re you on my land?” 

“Why don’t you lower your weapon,” the man on the horse smiled. “Then we can have a nice, civilized conversation.” 

“Don’t need one,” you replied, giving a short, sharp whistle. The dogs pressed closer. Ruger snarled. One of the men on foot jumped. You whistled again, the dogs’ attention back on you. 

“Ruger, Gattling,” you said. “Savvy.” 

They took off, back toward the cabin and your horse paddock. The men watched them run for a moment. 

“Assuming you’re Texas?” The man ignored the remaining dogs at his feet, using the name you’d picked up in decades of trading with passers by. “Heard you trade for horses, was wondering if you had some you’d be willing to part with and what the going rate would be?” 

You looked him over, the horse he was riding. You knew that horse. 

“Looks like you already got one of mine,” you said. “But I know you didn’t get him from me. What did you do to Jennifer.” 

Your gun was still up, leveled at the man on horseback. 

“Got the horse off a girl who got bit,” he said before he smirked and shook his head a little. “She sure was a pretty thing, though.”

You adjusted your grip on the gun and bit back a snarl. You’d liked Jennifer, she was a sweet girl. She’d left the Kansas City QZ as it falling apart, too young to remember much of life before the world ended. She’d reminded you of yourself at the start of the end of the world, figuring out how to be on her own while learning how to survive. She’d stayed with you for a few weeks after she’d stumbled upon you when she got separated from a group. You taught her some things, like how to trap and track animals, what to avoid when foraging. She’d left looking for a settlement you’d heard rumors of near the coast. You’d always hoped that she’d made it. Apparently she hadn’t. You didn’t know if it was infected or the men standing in front of you that did it but it didn’t matter. You knew you didn’t trust them. 

“When.” 

“Few weeks back,” he said. 

“She who told you about me?” You asked. 

He smirked. 

“Not exactly,” he said. “Been looking for you for a while. You’re a hard woman to find.” 

“Plan to stay that way,” you said, finger drifting to the trigger. “I’ve got four rounds in this, don’t remember the last time I missed. You can turn, go and forget you ever found me. Or, I can kill you. But you’re not leavin’ with another of my horses. Up to you.” 

The men looked at each other for a moment before the man on the horse gave you a nod. 

“We’ll be on our way.” 

He tipped his hat to you and you kept your gun trained on him. You gave another whistle and the remaining dogs backed down and you watched them until you couldn’t see them on the horizon anymore. 

It was just two weeks before someone found you again. 

His name was Mitchum. 

July, 2026

Joel’s hand was on your skin when you woke up. 

You’d drifted back into consciousness instead of shocked into it, your body relaxed and enveloped by his. His breath was warm against your head, his nose in your hair. His fingers were pressed into your skin, making little indentations on you in the shape of him and you were acutely aware of his hips and stomach and chest, his legs curled around the back of you. 

It was an odd feeling, strangely connected and disconnected to your body all at once. You could feel the blood moving through your limbs and the heat of Joel against you but your skin was almost numb. You weren’t in pain, in spite of being slammed into Ares’ stall door and thrown to the ground. You didn’t want to move, didn’t want to disturb this quiet peace that had settled over you. 

But as you slowly settled back into yourself, you realized something. There was an unfamiliar sensation between your thighs, slick and cool. You frowned and slowly slipped your palm into your shorts. You delicately traced your slit before bringing your hand in front of your face, fingers glistening. 

You stared at them for a second. You were wet. Something over night had made you get wet. 

It had been years since you’d last been wet because you wanted someone. Everything had been protection, your body trying to preserve itself, to make it hurt less. This was different. You weren’t sure how you knew but you did. Your face got hot. 

There was a tightness in you, you realized as you became more aware of your body again, a heat that you weren’t quite sure what to do with. All you knew was that Joel didn’t feel close enough to you. 

Just as you were thinking that, considering pressing yourself back against him so you could feel the outline of him more clearly to see if that eased the ache, his grip on you tightened and he gave you a gentle squeeze. His breathing shifted against you and he pressed his face closer to you. You quickly pressed your fingers into the leg of your shorts, wiping them clean. 

“Joel,” you said softly. 

He adjusted at your back. 

“Mornin’,” he sounded tired, only half awake. You swallowed past the knot in your throat. His nose nuzzled into your hair. You hesitated for a moment put pressed yourself back against him, the aching tightness in you easing at the contact.You focused on the feel of him for a moment, all firm but gentle. You weren’t sure how long you lay there like that with him when his hold on you loosened. 

“You OK?” His voice was gruff but tender, quiet. You pressed yourself back a little closer and his hand sank deeper into your flesh. You nodded ever so slightly. “Good.” 

His hand spread a little more against you and your smaller hand went over the top of his, a low, soft whimper slipping from your lips. 

“Bambi,” his voice was low and warm. 

“Yes?” 

“Should…” he took a deep, shaky breath against you. “Should go find Maria.” 

“Yes,” your voice trembled as you said it. 

“S’it OK if we stay like this another minute?” he sounded strained. You pressed your hand against his and he gasped quietly. “I just… I want…” 

“Yes,” you breathed, cutting him off. 

He held you like that for a few minutes, both of you silent outside of your quiet, needy breaths. 

“C’mon,” he said eventually, pulling his hand away from you. “Should get moving.” 

You separated from him slowly, reluctantly, and went upstairs to get changed. 

It felt like you should be grateful for the distance. A chance to reset your mind after it had been clouded by his proximity all night. But, even as the heat and tightness in you faded, you still felt like he was too far away. You wanted him closer. 

You shook yourself mentally and checked the bruise at your side before you gently cleaned between your legs. You put on Joel’s most recent shirt over a t-shirt before heading downstairs. 

“Ready?” Joel asked, sitting politely on your couch. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. 

“I can’t figure out Ben’s role in all this,” Joel said, his hands in his pockets as the two of you walked through the hazy dawn toward Maria and Tommy’s. “Simon’s a piece of shit but…” 

“I met him once,” you cut Joel off. “Before.” 

He turned to look at you so quick it made you jump a little. 

“He hurt you before?” He asked, his voice low and dangerous. 

“No,” you said, though you weren’t sure that was entirely true. Someone had told Mitchum where you were. He was on the last group to come through. “But he wasn’t happy with me then, either. He and his buddies showed up on a horse I’d trained, they either took him from a dead woman or cut it away from her. So I told them they wouldn’t get any horses from me. They didn’t like that much.” 

You hadn’t remembered him until that morning, just an ominous familiarity hanging over you whenever you looked at him. But you knew him. He’d been one of the two men on their feet, your dogs had nearly taken him down at the ankles. 

You didn’t tell Joel about your suspicion, that he’d sold you out to Mitchum when you’d refused to give him a horse.

Joel nodded slowly as the two of you came up to Tommy and Maria’s front walk. He knocked on the door and you could hear the shrieking toddler laugh from inside somewhere. You smiled at the sound. 

It took a minute for Maria to open the door, William on her hip. 

“Not a great morning,” she said, a little frazzled. “What’s up?” 

“We got a problem,” Joel said, his hand going to your lower back as he stepped a little closer to you. “Can’t wait.” 

***

Joel fought to keep himself under control as you told Maria and Tommy everything that had happened the night before. How Simon and Ben had cornered you in the stable, how Simon told Ben to watch how he marked you so they could pass your death off as an accident, how they’d trapped you in the stall, willing to wait for one hoof to come down on your body in just the right way. 

He clenched is fist. His blood was hot. Someone had tried to hurt you, pulled you away from right beside to him and tried to kill you. 

“Know where they are now?” Maria asked, her face hard. 

“If they got a lick of sense they took off,” Tommy said, his arms crossed over his chest as his eyes raked over you again and again. “No way they stayed in town.” 

Maria nodded. 

“Joel, Tommy, go out and bring them back,” she said. “You’re two of our best trackers, I trust that you’ll find them. And when I say bring them back, I mean bring them back. They’ll face trial and punishment assuming they’re found guilty. You’re not judge, jury and executioner here.” 

“They ain’t gonna come quietly, baby,” Tommy frowned. “May not have another choice…” 

“Don’t get yourselves hurt but do what you can,” she said. “Take some horses and track them down as best you can. If you haven’t found them in two days, come back.” 

You wrapped your arms around your waist and clenched your jaw and Joel stepped a little closer to you. You leaned into him. 

“Lemme grab some stuff,” Tommy said to the two of you. “Meet you at the stables in half an hour.” 

Joel walked you to the stables and you insisted you were fine to be in there alone, already going about the work of getting his and Tommy’s horses ready to go. He reluctantly left you to it, going home to quickly pack a bag of his own before going back to you. 

Being that far from you made him uneasy. He was certain Tommy was right, that Simon and Ben had left town. But it made him nervous. You were in danger and he was leaving you alone. He was about to leave you even more alone than he was now. It felt wrong. He should be close to you, protecting you. 

But this was better, it would keep you safer. He knew that. He just had to convince himself of it. 

You were finishing saddling up Tommy’s horse when Joel made it back to the stables. He wordlessly started working on his own, the two of you putting the tack on together. 

“I’m gonna go check their houses,” Tommy said, mounting his horse. “See you up front in a few?” 

He gave Joel a meaningful look. Joel narrowed his eyes at him. 

“See you there.” 

Joel gave Tommy a moment to get out of earshot before he turned to you. Your arms were crossed tightly over yourself again, your eyes wide and doe-like. You looked afraid. It made Joel’s chest hurt. 

“Hey,” he said gently. Your wide eyes met his for a moment before tracing over his face. “Nothing is going to happen to you…” 

You frowned, your eyebrows knitting together. 

“What?” Joel frowned, too. 

“You think that’s what I’m worried about?” You asked. “Joel, I don’t want you going out there and getting hurt because of me, I…” 

He stepped closer to you and you went silent, looking up at him. 

“Bambi,” he said softly, looking into your eyes, into you. “Nothin’ is going to happen to me.” 

“Joel…” 

He completely closed the distance between you and you dropped your arms to your sides so the front of you was just inches from the front of him. His hand slowly, delicately, came to your face and cupped your cheek, his thumb against your cheekbone, his fingers wrapping back and down around the column of your throat. It felt like he was holding the entire world in his palm, your wide eyes soft and earnest. 

“Not going to let anyone hurt you, Sweetheart,” he said, voice quiet. “I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to keep you safe.” 

He leaned his head toward yours, slowly and deliberately, giving you every opportunity to pull away, You didn’t take it. Instead, you stayed stock still and your breath caught in your throat with a quiet little gasp when he pressed his lips to your forehead, his nose in your hair. He kissed your soft, smooth skin for what felt like an eternity but nowhere near long enough. Joel pulled back from you ever so slightly, his forehead dropping to your own, his nose brushing yours. You closed your eyes for a moment, your breaths coming in shuddering little pants, your lips so close to his it almost hurt.  

“I will protect you,” he whispered. “I promise you I will.” 

Joel met Tommy at the main gate, feeling your eyes on him as he rode away, and the two of them set out, silent, into the foggy morning air. They started by circling the city, finding the footprints in the mud that gathered around the fence that surrounded the town. 

“Fuckers,” Tommy muttered, looking up and Joel as he did. “Think we can track ‘em?” 

“I’m not comin’ back ’til we do,” Joel said, his voice dark. 

The tracks disappeared into the woods and, once the two of them were far enough away from Jackson, Joel looked at Tommy. 

Joel had come to admire his little brother in the years since he’d come to Jackson, not that he would admit that. 

For a long time, he’d felt like more of a father to Tommy than a brother. Joel was just six years older than him but, once their parents had both died, it felt like he had to step up. Sarah was barely a year old, Tommy was just 17 and on the verge of flunking out of high school. He had to pay the rent and put food on the table and make sure his brother didn’t drop out and keep a baby alive. It was like he was treading water at best, damn near drowning most of the time, but he’d kept it together. He’d all but begged Tommy to join the military, do something that would keep him out of prison and keep his feet on the ground. 

And then the Gulf War started and Joel spent years horrified that he might have gotten his brother hurt, gotten his brother killed. 

Tommy came back different. Instead of getting picked up for shoplifting, he started getting picked up for brawling. Joel had to bail him out again and again, ended up on the hook for Tommy’s rent after he cosigned for his apartment, needed to help him figure out a new car after Tommy wrapped his around a tree. Eventually, he told Tommy that he needed to get his shit together. He could either start working contractor jobs with Joel or he’d be on his own. Joel couldn’t keep letting Tommy derail things for him and Sarah and it killed him to give him that ultimatum. 

But Tommy managed it. Mostly. He still wound up in trouble sometimes. Joel still had to make sure he was actually fucking eating real food and not just jerky and candy from the gas station or pick him up at the jail after a scuffle. But he was getting close, so damn close, to having the life Joel knew he could have if he just tried for it when the world ended. When Joel’s world ended. When Sarah died. 

Things devolved then. Tommy was his only reason for living, for a while. There were times he wasn’t enough to stick around for but Joel just kept on living, anyway. He often wasn’t sure why. 

They did bad things then, when Joel stopped caring. They hurt innocent people, killed innocent people, helped people even worse than them gain power and control in the increasingly dangerous and chaotic hellscape that had once been the United States. A lot of people suffered because of them. But they’d survived. For better or worse, they’d lived. 

Joel wasn’t sure why, for a while. He supposed it was stupid to believe there was a purpose for it all, like the universe was suddenly going to succumb to reason after everything that had happened, but it felt like there had to be something. 

Now, he knew why. 

He had Ellie, of course. And now you. That was reason enough. But Tommy… Tommy had managed to actually make something of himself in spite of everything. He’d found Maria, made a place for himself in Jackson - and actually made the damn place better - and he’d become the father that Joel always knew he had the potential to be. 

It threw Joel a bit, sometimes, that Tommy was the one who looked out for him. The one Joel needed to come to for help. He didn’t like it, that loss of control. But there were times he still needed his brother.

Times like this one. 

“I know what Maria said…” Joel began but Tommy cut him off. 

“They ain’t comin’ back to Jackson.” 

Joel was silent for a moment. 

“You know what you’re sayin’, Tommy?” 

“I’m sayin’ that we’re going to handle this shit the way we used to,” Tommy said. “Wasn’t always right but it was always a way to protect what matters. And she don’t just matter to you, Joel. She might be your girl but I care about her, too. She already feels like family. She might be a pain in the ass but she’s my pain in the ass. Anyone wants to fuck with her will have to go through me. 

“Besides. Can’t have men like that around Maria and William and Ellie. Ain’t safe. I’m sure they’ll put up a decent fight ‘fore we kill ‘em. Won’t even be a lie, then.” 

Joel nodded once. 

“Good.” 

They tracked the men through the day, the two of them clearly hadn’t stopped after fleeing the day before and it was close to nightfall when Joel started noticing signs of them slowing down. Footsteps were dragging through the brush and the mud, leaves were crushed or stripped away from places where branches had been grabbed for support. 

Joel was on edge, the hair on the back of his neck on end when Tommy gave a short whistle. When Joel looked at him, he indicated with his eyes what he was concerned with. A tree just off the trail, a lower branch snapped like someone too big had tried to use it to leverage themselves up. Joel nodded slightly and only once. They had to be close, very very close. He slung his rifle off his back and tucked it against his body where he could quickly aim and fire it. He had the sense that it wouldn’t be long until he needed it. 

Joel was right. 

It was only a few minutes later that, with a desperate wail, Simon leapt at Joel, a knife clutched in his ruddy hand. Joel reacted quickly, swinging the butt of the rifle around and slamming it into the man’s head. He dropped like a stone to the ground and Joel and Tommy quickly dismounted as Ben charged forward. Joel raised his rifle and shot him in the hip, the man screaming and falling to the ground, writhing in pain. 

“Stick with him,” Joel said, nodding to Ben. “This one’s mine.” 

Simon was still shaking off Joel’s hit when he dropped a knee to the prone man’s chest, ripping the knife from his grip and pressing it to his throat. 

Part of Joel knew he shouldn’t take any pleasure in this. That hurting and killing someone - even someone like Simon - should take something from him. And it did once, what felt like long ago. But it didn’t anymore, not when hurting and killing would keep you safe. He liked keeping you safe.

Simon’s hands clawed and Joel’s arms and he ignored it, cocking his head slightly as he looked at the man below him. 

“You got a few options here, Simon,” Joel said, his voice flat. 

“Fuck you,” he spat. 

“Not one of ‘em,” Joel replied. “You ain’t making it out of this alive, you decided that for yourself when you put hands on her…” 

“Your obsession with that fucking cunt…” 

Joel curled the hand not holding the knife into a fist and brought it down quick and hard on Simon’s face, making him cry out. Joel felt the man’s nose collapse below his knuckles. 

“You only got so many breaths left,” Joel said, flexing his fingers, knuckles stinging. “Wouldn’t waste ‘em making shit worse for yourself. Cooperate and I’ll give you a quick death. Don’t and I’ve got all night.” 

“Fuck you,” he panted through gritted teeth. “And fuck her, too.” 

Joel sighed and grabbed Simon’s nose roughly between his fingers, making him cry out. Joel twisted it sharply, harshly, to the side, almost pulling his flesh apart. He could feel the cartilage moving under his touch, the gush of blood, the thrashing of the man below him. It was satisfying, this form of justice. He was doing something, he was making sure that he wasn’t going to fail with you. It felt, maybe not good, but right. 

He released Simon’s nose and grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up at Joel. 

“Haven’t done this in a while,” Joel said, a little breathless. “Thinkin’ I should make the most of it, what do you think, Tommy?” 

Joel looked over at him. He was standing over Ben, gun trained on him. 

“Just thinkin’ that we needed somethin’ fun to do tonight,” he said. 

Joel smirked. 

“Just thinkin’ that, too.” 

“Wait,” Ben said, his hands up by his face in surrender. “Wait, please, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, I just don’t want to die here, please…” 

Tommy looked at Joel who shrugged. Joel had no intention of letting him live. Neither did Tommy. Ben didn’t need to know that. 

“We can work somethin’ out,” Tommy said, gun still aimed at the man on the ground. “Answer my brother’s questions and we’ll talk.” 

“You workin’ with anyone else in Jackson?” Joel asked. 

“No,” Ben said quickly, voice panicky. Joel bought it. He was answering too fast and was too afraid for it to be a lie. “No, it was just us, just the two of us, I thought it was too far but…” 

Joel looked down at Simon. 

“That true?” 

Simon just panted for breath and glared up at Joel. He thought for a moment and pulled the knife from his throat and put the tip of it against his eye, a fraction of an inch away. 

“Asked if that was true,” Joel said. “Better have a fuckin’ answer.” 

“It’s true,” Simon said quickly. “It’s true, it’s true. There wasn’t anyone else involved, just us, please…” 

“Anything you left behind that’s going to hurt her?” Joel asked, looking back toward Ben but keeping the knife near Simon’s eye. 

“No,” Ben said quickly. Again, it rang true. “No, we thought… we figured the horse would do it and it wasn’t like we’d planned it for long, we thought it would look like an accident, please I’m begging you…” 

Joel delicately pressed the tip of the blade into Simon’s bottom eyelid. His breathing picked up but he stayed still as a tiny bead of blood appeared on the knife. 

“He telling us the truth?” He asked. 

“Yes,” Simon said quickly, eyes shut tight. “Fuck, yes Miller, we just decided to, please…” 

Joel nodded before pulling the knife from Simon’s eye. 

“Why’d you do it?” He asked as the man slowly, cautiously opened his eyes. “Why did you decide to go after her?” 

Simon looked afraid now. Like he finally, truly understood what was about to happen. He swallowed and Joel watched his throat working, aware for a moment that it was one of the last times his body would perform that function. 

“I didn’t have shit after the outbreak,” he said, starting to hyperventilate. “Everything I knew, everything I loved was gone and then I had my place here and she took that from me. She fuckin’ took it and she disrespected me at every goddamn turn and I just…” 

“She didn’t take a damn thing,” Joel was talking through gritted teeth. You hadn’t even wanted Simon’s fucking job and he’d tried to kill you for it. “You lost it by being a fucking idiot and you tried to take it out on her.” 

He seemed to recognize then that there was no merciful way out of this. There never had been. His face twisted into something rage-filled and hateful, snarling up at Joel. 

“She doesn’t belong here. She’s barely even fucking human, she’s more like those goddamn horses! She’s fucking feral and I was the only one willing to try to break her…” 

Joel let out a roar as he brought his fist down on Simon’s face again and again and again, until he was barely breathing, his features nothing but bloody pulp. 

“Joel,” Tommy said as Joel panted, his hand damaged and coated in red. “Just finish the fucker.” 

Joel nodded once, pulling his knee off Simon’s chest and sitting back on his heels, thrusting his knife low in the man’s stomach. Simon managed a grunt of pain but nothing else as Joel dragged the knife up through his innards until he met his breastbone. He stood up, looking at the man’s mangled body. 

“He’ll die slow,” Tommy’s gun was still on Ben. 

“Better than he deserved,” Joel said, stalking over to Ben and jerking his head so Tommy stepped to the side. He went down on one knee near Ben’s head, a perverse proposal. “Another few questions, just for you. Then we can talk about a deal.” 

There wouldn’t be a deal. 

“Please,” Ben whimpered, blood coating his stomach now. His skin was pale. 

“You knew her,” Joel said. “From before. That right?” 

“Yes,” he nodded quickly. “Yeah, I did. Traveled with some guys for a bit, heard she’d trade for horses. She wouldn’t trade with us, pissed off the others, made life fuckin’ difficult for a while and I didn’t think he was going to try to kill her, please, I swear I didn’t think it was going to go that far, I promise I won’t even look at her again, please.” 

“Before,” Joel said, fighting to keep calm, remembering what you’d told him that morning. It felt like so long ago now, waking up next to you, feeling you in his arms. You trusted him. You trusted him to be near you, to touch you, to protect you. You didn’t trust anyone else but you trusted him. “Before you came to Jackson, when you tried to trade with her. You do anything to her then?” 

“Told some folks where to find her,” he said. “That’s all.” 

Joel nodded. 

“Anyone else you know outside Jackson know where she is?” He asked. 

“No,” he said quickly. “No, haven’t talked to anyone since I got here. Please, I promise I won’t…” 

Joel thrust the knife into his throat before he finished his sentence, his eyes going wide in shock before he went limp. Joel watched Ben’s blood pool on the dirt, soaking into the soil at first before collecting in a thick puddle, dark and warm on the ground. He pulled the knife free and wiped it on the man’s jeans before he stood, putting it away. 

Tommy looked up toward the darkening sky for a moment. 

“Head back about half a mile then stop for the night?” he said. “Put some distance between us and the bodies ‘fore the animals get to ‘em.” 

“Yeah,” Joel nodded. “Sounds good.” 

Joel and Tommy agreed on a story as they set up camp for the night, one that was almost the truth. The two men jumped them. They’d had no choice but to shoot them. Unfortunate but Jackson would be safe. 

Getting back to town was faster than getting out of it, no longer needing to actively track the men and instead just find their way back home, and the sun was still up when they reached the gates. 

Joel wasn’t expecting you to be at the stables when he got there. It was late enough that you should be at the mess hall for dinner or home and he had every intention of settling his horse down as quickly as he could before finding you but he didn’t need to. You were curled up in a corner of the stables near the tack, your eyes closed, head resting against the stable wall. You were in the same clothes you’d been wearing yesterday. Joel frowned. Hadn’t you been home? He unbuckled his saddle and put it away before kneeling next to you, taking your face in his large hand the same way he’d done the morning before. You startled, eyes shooting open, afraid for a moment before softening when you realized it was him. 

“Joel,” you gasped it, throwing your arms around his neck, your whole body following, nearly knocking him down. He hesitated for a moment before he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. “I was so worried, I didn’t… I’m so glad you’re back.” 

“Me too, Sweetheart,” one of his hands went to the back of your head, holding you gently. 

“Did you…” you began, but he cut you off, still holding onto you. 

“They’re dead,” he said. Your breath caught for a moment and he pulled you closer. You were soft and warm and whole and alive. He’d kept you safe. He hadn’t failed you, not this time. “Not going to hurt you again.” 

“Joel…” your voice trailed off, sounding sad. He pulled back from you enough that he could see your face, your eyes searching his. He brushed your hair back. 

“C’mon,” he said softly. “Let’s go home.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: FERAL JOEL

FERAL JOEL

FERAL JOELLLLLLLL :D

And everything else about this chapter, too 😌 Seriously, these two are sooooooo close to stuff happening. So so so so so so so so close, I promise they are.

I do have an alerts blog! Follow and subscribe to get an alert when a new chapter is posted. I will only post each chapter once so you're not being spammed, promise! 😊

Thanks for enduring the slow burn of it all, everyone, and thank you for being here. Love you!!

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[eddies-house]

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Smoke Signals

Chapter Three - Two Old Fashioneds

W/C: 5.2K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Your first shift at The Bourbon goes less than smoothly and more chaotic. Does the town's hard-ass really have his shit together like he leads everyone to believe?

A/N: guys I'm so excited for this to pick up even more (i want to make them kiss like barbies but all in good time)

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The ins and outs of a bar were something you could have never anticipated and while similar in certain ways to a diner, there was a distinct line that separated the two.  A diner had grumpy old men complaining about not getting their coffee soon enough.  The bar had grumpy old men slurring their words, groaning about their lives and insisting that a ‘cute lil thing like you’ would fix everything.  You had to stop yourself from gagging, plaster a smile on your face, and carry on.  Because one complaint and you could be out of a job, only proving that you couldn’t handle the ‘rowdy’ customers as disclosed by the boss, who now that you thought about, hadn’t seen in the last forty minutes.  

Not one other server was on staff to at least show you the ropes, it seemed like you were the first one.  One of the bartenders, Jett, who had been the one you’d seen working the day before, was unfortunately selected to both train you and run the bar for the most part tonight, no time for a proper introduction before you were thrown into the deep end, only a quick exchange of names.  It was a Thursday night but apparently to people in Knife’s Edge that meant the weekend started early.  Poor Jett was nineteen years old and the whole bar depended on you two ever since 8:00 PM when you clocked in for your very first shift.  It was nauseating having to ask him stupid questions in between attempting to serve tables while he made drink after drink, desperately trying to keep up with each order and delivering them to the right customer, even going as far to step out from behind the bar to tend to some of your tables.  You assume he was probably used to it, what with how he did it without hesitation and seemed to have his own little system in place.

It wasn’t your fault, he assured you.  It’s just that you happened to pick up your first shift the very night that the kitchen ran out of beef which also happened to be the main ingredient of one of The Bourbon’s only menu items, the famous Shreddar Burger topped with an ungodly amount of cheese and jalapenos.  Turns out the customers went wild for it.  It didn’t seem appetizing but you weren’t going to argue with the crowd favorite.  And now it was being requested left and right, the explanation that the kitchen was currently out but should be back to whipping up another round soon, not enough for their hungry bellies.  The best you could offer was a basket of fries until the beef magically showed up, Jett insisting that someone was taking care of it and that the cook would be back to whipping them up as planned sooner than later.  You were beginning to lose faith in his promises but proceeded one step at a time regardless.

Just one more task and then the beef will be here and I won’t have to hear another damn grievance over a heartburn-inducing burger. 

Yet it seemed to never come to an end, table after table requesting the very same order each time; only for you or Jett to break the news that their precious burger would have to wait and that again, the best you could offer were some fries or chicken wings, neither measuring up to the pedestal they held this burger on.

By around 9:15 PM, out came Eddie from the kitchen, door swinging behind him as sweat dripped from his brow.  He was out of breath, chest heaving while he gestured for you and Jett to come over to which you obeyed, zigzagging around tables in a hurry with a tray tucked under your arm, brows pinched together stressfully.  A new party of eight had just arrived which prompted you to push three tables together to accompany them, their drink order hadn’t even been taken yet and Eddie seemed to pick the worst time to call an impromptu meeting, in the middle of a never ending rush.  Burgerless.  

“Beef’s here.  Jett, I need you to help with the rest of the boxes so we can get burgers going.”  He instructs, the boy immediately following orders and frantically heading through the swinging door at full speed, very aware that he still had the front of house to attend to.  “And you, Bambi, change of plans.  I need you in the kitchen.”

So much to unpack in just one sentence.  The kitchen?  Bambi?

“Well–I-I thought I was just a server–”

“I said change of plans, I need you in the kitchen.”  Before you could ask further questions, he disappears into the kitchen and for a split second you turn to glance at the full bar awaiting service only to wince and follow him.  No one was managing the front and that made your nerves twitch but you suppose the boss knows what he’s doing.  At least you hope.  Your first hour or so had been a shit show.

Pans clanked against the metal worktop as he shoved them out of the way, clearing the space and igniting the flat top all while not batting an eye at you or caring to further explain.  You could just make out the formation of numbers on his lips, no sound coming out, but he was distinctly lip syncing the numbers one through three over and over.  It was strange though you didn’t have much time to process it, instead opting to internally lose it over the sheer idea of filling in for another position.  You didn’t sign up to be a cook and this was way out of your scope of skills.  He deemed you as incapable of being a server and now he was putting the foundation of this place on your shoulders.

“Randy, our cook left.”  He begins, oiling up the surface, his focus never faltering.  “Don’t know why, don’t know where.  All I know is I went to pick up beef and when I came back he was gone.”  

Jett scrambles near the back door, hauling boxes of beef into the walkin freezer as your eyes dart between him and Eddie, a certain queasiness forming in your stomach.  Eddie continues pulling supplies out and though it's within your rights to demand to return to your original position in the front, you can’t, the words won’t come out.  

“So you’re gonna flip burgers, Jett and I will be in and out to help while also holding it down out there.”

“I don’t even know how to ‘flip burgers’!”  

It comes out less hostile and more alarmed, your eyes feigning apprehension at the current inconsistency of the place.  In any other circumstance you should leave, quit with your dignity intact however that is not an option and you are in no position to be calling any shots; you begged for this job, afterall.

“You don’t know how to flip burgers.”  He deadpans.

“I-”

“You ever flipped a pancake?”

It’s not a genuine question, more of a mockery of your simpleminded excuse.  His head drops to catch your line of sight that had been previously shooting around the colorless kitchen, saturated in grays and whites that would drive anyone mad.  

“That’s not what I meant–”  You proclaim, setting your tray on an unoccupied work top.

“Just–cook the meat.  Make sure it’s not raw.”

As if that wasn’t the whole point of ‘cooking’ it.  This guy must have thought you had mush for brains yet he was the one with a crumbling structure of a business just based on what you’ve experienced in one night.  One hour, even.  You were starting to miss the senior citizens from the previous evening that appeared to have had a great deal of patience in comparison to the younger crowd that seemed to have more audacity and a shorter attention span.

“But what about–”

“Stop asking questions!  Just follow my lead.”  He demands, rushing out to the back, the door propped open so he could assist Jett in retrieving the remaining boxes from his truck.

What lead?  There was no lead.  Only chaos.

You idled next to the grill, shuffling your feet against the grimy tiles beneath you and taking notice of the astonishingly disgusting drain on the floor, coated in some kind of copper-colored grease.  At least if Eddie came back in to yell at you for not doing anything, you had the excuse of manning the grill, ensuring his precious bar didn’t burn to the ground though metaphorically, it already was.  What else were you supposed to do?  

–

You were sure the smell of beef, onions and cheese were going to be crusted into your hair for eternity when all was said and done.  Eddie and Jett had been taking turns walking you through the steps of creating this so-called famous burger and after a few mutilated testers, you eventually got the hang of it and it became a game of rinse and repeat.  Sometimes an order for a rare cooked burger would come in and you could only hope that you cooked it just enough that it wouldn’t bring on a nasty case of food poisoning to whoever had requested it.

Eddie stood behind you at the fryer, back to you while putting together another batch of fries to store under the heat lamps while you pieced together yet another burger, setting it along the space designated for finished meals along with its corresponding ticket underneath.  Eddie dumped some fries onto the plate before swiping it up and delivering it to its table.  When he quickly came back in to repeat the same motions, a question lingered in the back of your mind and it only made sense to ask it.

“Why am I on burger duty?”  You question, mentally facepalming at the phrasing you chose.

“Come again?”  He gives you another chance.

“I-I mean, if I’m brand new, why put me in charge of one of the most important things on the menu?  Why don’t you cook and I keep serving?”  

It seemed like a valid concern, only your first day and suddenly you’ve moved up to head of the kitchen?  Okay, maybe not head of the kitchen but that’s how it felt when thing one and thing two were constantly rotating out and mainly only managing fries and other small bar foods that were simple enough to make in big batches.  The grease from it all felt prominent on your skin, and you feared your sweat was going to become one with the vegetable oil.

“Every person out there knows me.  And I know them.  I know how to butter them up.”  He explains, a rogue curl escaping his messy bun in the mayhem of it all as he dumps another large portion of potatoes into the fryer.  “You…well, you know.”

It’s uncertain whether that was meant to be an insult or simply him losing his train of thought.  Either way, you didn’t read much into it, only nodding hesitantly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll throw you back to the wolves in no time.”  Eddie half jokes, exiting the kitchen once again, this time with plates balanced on his forearms and palms, Jett zooming past him to start up another round of wings.

“So, how are you enjoying hell?”  He laughs, giving his hands a good scrub down.

“Oh, it’s amazing.”  You exaggerate, piling some cheddar cheese high on top of the charred meat, topping it off with jalapenos and a bun, then plating it up with some fries.

“Well, I promise it’s not like this every shift.  And contrary to what you may have seen tonight, Eddie’s a good boss.  Just kinda cranky but you learn to ignore it.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”  The man in question rushes by, heading for the walk-in freezer, yet again counting in threes, this time using his fingers as well.

–

As promised, you were sent back up to the front once things had slowed down, the bar emptying out aside from a few regulars that had straggled behind.  It was a manageable workload between three people, plus Jett was able to offer a little more in depth training behind the bar as well as giving you the official tour of The Bourbon.  

There was the main room where all the action was, dimly lit to create a nice ambience littered in knick knacks that decorated the walls, torn band posters covering the ceiling along with some Christmas lights.  Of course there was a pool table though you hadn’t witnessed any intense games in your short time here.  Jett took the liberty of educating you on the kitchen a little further should anything of tonight’s nature happen again.  You learned where everything was kept for their small but cherished menu, where the storage closet containing all the cleaning supplies was as well as the back office which was only reserved for Eddie according to Jett.  Lastly, he showed you the dumpsters, in case you happened to be on trash duty and he even gave you strict instructions on how to close them back up so animals wouldn’t rummage.

Now you were back behind the bar, being taught to make the signature drink, an old fashioned containing cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger.  You could appreciate it, a bit spicy and a touch smooth, accompanying that burnt wood taste that would get you there fast.  It wasn’t a difficult drink to make however, perfecting the presentation was what set you back.  You couldn’t simply toss a cherry and an orange twist into the liquor, it had to be done tastefully.  Or that’s how Jett explained it, claiming that those were Eddie’s words.  The drink was in a way, an art and you couldn’t be sloppy with it, not by The Bourbon’s standards.

A  hectic night of becoming a makeshift cook, training as a server, and an intake of so much new information would do a number on anyone and the bags under your eyes clearly showed the physical exhaustion you were experiencing.  You didn’t think you ever worked so hard even at the diner back at home during rush hour.

“Little lamb made it through the night.”

Tilting your head up from the cocktail before you momentarily, you’re met with that pair of intimidating but gorgeous eyes, nearly black in the low lighting of the bar.  It was interesting, you’d seen many brown eyes in your lifetime but none of them resembled something quite like the universe he held in his, his outlook on things noticeably different from the average person.  He had taken a seat at one of the stools on the opposite side of the bar from you, some paperwork laid out in front of him as he began scribbling something down.  All you could offer him was the raise of your brow in acknowledgement of his presence, too engaged in perfecting the cherries on the toothpick just right, balancing them on the rim of the glass like a circus act.  

“They’re too close together.”  Eddie remarks, his gaze glued to the paper he had been marking up, an inventory list you notice at a second glance. 

“Hmm?”  You might as well have been in your own world, some kind of trance caused by fatigue pulling at your muscles and overworked mind.  

“Cherries.  They’re unbalanced.”

For a man of such few words, he still seemed to say a lot.  The attitude ingrained in his tone never appeared to let up and it felt as if something was either always bugging him or losing his interest.  Never content, always sour and sharp-tongued.  

“Oh.”  You sigh in defeat, as if it were impossible to simply pick up the toothpick resting against the glass and your finger and move the cherries, solving the case of the wobbling toothpick.

Jett emerged next to you after participating in some small talk with a regular at the end of the bar, a grin on his youthful face despite what a shit show the night had been.  So far you observed that he was something of an optimist, smiling his way through tough situations.  It was refreshing.

“There you go!”  He praises, gesturing greatly to the drink you’d just created.  Your third try at it. 

“Jett, you’re bein’ a shitty example.  Leaving your sheep unattended.”  Eddie grumbles, sticking a toothpick in his mouth.  You’d be lying if you said you wished he’d stop sticking toothpicks in his damn mouth.  Well, half-lying.  You’d admit he looked good chewing on a tiny piece of wood but he did it far too often.

Wait…sheep?  Were you the sheep?  Was this a jab at you?  You’d just spent the night keeping this place afloat and he was insulting you once again?

“Munson, I’d say I’m doing just fine considering you left us without a fuckin’ cook the whole night.”  Jett defends.  You want to grimace, knowing this wasn’t the standard when talking to your boss but Eddie seemed unphased while the boy kept grinning at him as he leaned against the bar.  “Plus, it seems like this sheep kicked ass on only her first day.”  He nudges your shoulder with his, sliding the drink you’d just concocted in front of Eddie.  You smiled in appreciation of his kind words.

“I didn’t leave you without a cook.  Cook fuckin’ left without telling anyone.”  He reasons, immediately throwing half the drink back in one swig.  

Please don’t taste shitty, please don’t taste shitty, please don’t taste shitty.

“And I guess you proved not to be as dainty as I thought.”  Eddie admits to you, throwing the rest of the drink back.  No complaints yet.  Only what you could make out to be a compliment.

“So can she stay?”  Jett pleads, bottom lip jutted out for emphasis.  He seemed to have taken a liking to you but then again, the place was short staffed so maybe he was just desperate to have anyone help out.

Eddie looks up from his list, pen tapping against the bar top with annoyance.  There was still no indication whether the old fashioned had been any good or not, seemingly forgotten about amongst the conversation and it was quietly eating at you.  The need for validation.

“That’s up to her, kid.” 

Both pairs of eyes landed on you, anticipating your answer.

“Well, uh, I dunno.”  You shrug.  “Was I even any good at making a drink?”  Like you had a choice in accepting the job, this is all you had.

“I dunno.”  Eddie replies, sliding the glass back over to you.  “Try again, let's see.”

“That’s a yes.”  Jett chimes in.  “Big boy wants a refill.”

“Jett, I will personally give you a swirly.”  There’s a glimpse of humor in Eddie’s tone, the smallest you’ve seen within him so far though you refrained from giggling.

“Oh, a swirly?  Real mature.”  Jett mocks, Eddie quietly snorting a laugh in response.  

His smile was cute.  

And it may be the first time you’d seen a genuine one from him.  He had dimples, deep, deep dimples.  It was a wonder why he didn’t put them on display more.

In the midst of the banter, you began whipping up another old fashioned, The Bourbon way.  You figured it wouldn’t be your place to insert yourself among the jokes, being the new girl.  It was best to keep quiet until you blended in a bit more.  Several customers throughout the night had already initiated conversation stating they’d never seen you before and you didn’t need to draw any more attention to yourself than you’d already received.

“Make it a double?”  Eddie interrupts your process.

Again you look up to meet those large eyes, practically black holes absorbing any and all light aside from a tiny sparkle you found that survived within them.  He was asking and not demanding.  He owned the whole damn place and yet he was asking you to make it a double when he could very well just tell you.

“Yeah.”  You whisper, unsure of yourself.  A double just meant…well, double, right?

So you turn to Jett who was now scrubbing at an especially sticky spot on the bar.  He didn’t take any notice in your silent plea much to your regret.  You looked like an idiot, pondering over what exactly the measurements should be since today's training didn’t exactly cover what to do should someone ask for a double.  At least you knew how to use the entirety of the kitchen though…

“Just another shot.”  Eddie instructs, emotionless.

With a nod, you kick right into action, using what you learned and putting it to use while remembering to add an additional shot and not completely overlook it in your uneasiness.  You didn’t care to peer up at him once more, uncertain if he was still watching your every move and unsure whether he would reprimand you for making one mistake in crafting his drink.  He said nothing so it was safe to assume he had resumed filling out his boring paperwork.

“See, she’s a natural!”  Jett applauds upon turning back toward you as you carefully pierce the cherries with a toothpick, balancing them just how Eddie had taught you.  

It really wasn’t rocket science and you could feel the humiliation seep into your bones at the thought of him judging you for simply not being able to figure out why they kept falling in before.  You were by no means a natural.

“You’re gonna be the new favorite, I can already tell.  Everyone’s gonna love ya.”  Though Jett’s words are appreciated and far too kind, you can’t help but doubt his confidence in you.

You were used to being a fly on the wall, observing and keeping to yourself among loud personalities.  And you were okay with that.  Being so removed grants you the ability to perceive everyone else without barely even being perceived yourself.  It was flattering, the way Jett talked you up having only known you for a few hours but you knew you were nothing special.  He was just being nice and most likely picked up on your anxious undertones.

Eddie remained mute, continuing to scribble away at the paper in front of him as if you and Jett weren’t there.  Just as silent, you slid the drink over into his peripheral before occupying your hands with a rag to wipe up any remnants caused by your shaky hands.  He only scanned the drink over once before tapping his pen against the counter, three times.  Always in threes.  

Awaiting his consensus on your bartending, you pretend to pay no mind, as though his opinion is the last thing on earth you would want.  Really, it’s all you want.  To know if you exceeded at crafting the bar’s signature drink or if you failed so miserably that he wouldn't let you behind the bar again.  After all, your official job title would be ‘server’ and server’s didn’t generally make drinks, they served.  But this wasn’t a normal bar and it seemed everyone was performing more than one job at a time so if you had to make drinks you might as well be somewhat good at it.  And if not, it could render you useless in his perception, seeing as he’d already underestimated you before.

When he finally takes a sip, large hand wrapped around the glass, you refrain from sucking in a breath because although he had already had one, he gulped it down like water.  This time it seemed he was performing a quality check.

“Good.”  His monotone voice doesn’t convey much other than you’ve at least satisfied him to some extent.  But that's it.

Next to you, Jett celebrates again before tending to another customer and then yelling out for the last call.  Eddie’s focus doesn’t budge from his work while he sips away at his drink, this time nurturing it rather than greedily throwing it all back.

–

Some time around 12:30 AM Jett had dashed out after the bar received a phone call from his mom complaining that the racoons had stormed their barn and came too close to threatening their chicken coop again.  With all patrons now gone and only cleaning and closing left to be done, Eddie dismissed him from work and told him to get a better handle on the raccoon situation seeing as it happened three times in the past month.  Jett muttered something about how raccoons are relentless and how they will find a way if they really want to on his way out.  

With one last wipe down of the tables and a thorough cleaning of the bar top, all that was left on your mental checklist given to you courtesy of Eddie was making sure behind the bar was organized and pristine for the following day, bottles accounted for, and glasses washed and dried.  He was absent for a good thirty minutes but you concluded he was doing his share in the kitchen as you heard the clanging of metal on metal and a few curses every now and then when there was an extra loud crash. 

The sudden crackle of a speaker and booming music startles you, a glass nearly slipping out of your grasp at the sound.  A harsh metal song blares through the bar, guitar wailing and bass vibrating, causing a few bottles to gently clink against each other on the shelf.  Seconds later, Eddie came sauntering out from the back office with a broom in hand and a cigarette hanging from his bottom lip, unlit.  

You try to ignore whatever he may be up to but find it impossible not to look up from the glass you were polishing off.  His hair was unruly, now out of the confines of a bun and seeming to have only gotten bigger throughout the night and–he wasn’t using the broom for sweeping.  Instead, he crawled on top of a freshly cleaned table with his dirty, clunky boots and poked at something in the rafters, tugging it forward.  You wanted to be mad that he was stepping on your freshly scrubbed table but you couldn’t help but be curious, pausing your motions to stare and try to predict his next move.  

The end of the broom was looped under the handle of a small wooden box and his arm stretched out to open it before pulling some cash out of his pocket and sticking it in the box.  Then he closed it back up and shoved it back into place, out of sight.  Once he jumped down off the table, he began walking toward the back again, stopping in his tracks when he realized you were standing there watching him the whole time.  

A puff of air escapes his lips, his bangs briefly blowing upward before resting back against his forehead.  You tear your gaze away, now more interested in cleaning water droplets off of another glass.  Your heart pounding, his footsteps only inch closer and closer and yet again, he is on the opposite side of the bar from you, staring you down.  It was obvious he had forgotten you were there.  The unlit cigarette is plucked from his lips in between his fingers and tucked behind his ear.

“You didn’t see that.  If it goes missing, I’ll know it was you.”  He speaks so gruffly and low, as if someone might hear despite the place being empty.

Nodding in submission, you can’t bring yourself to catch his fierce gaze.

“Yeah?”  Eddie pushes for a verbal response, more intensity to his tone.

“Yes.”  You chirp.  Like a pathetic little bird.  

Satisfied with your answer, he hums, resting the broom against a stool before making his way around the bar, pulling a rag out of his back pocket and assisting you with wiping down the remaining glasses.  There had to have been at least a dozen left and by the looks of it, he had finished his tasks and wanted to get out of here.  So you worked in silence, side by side.

It felt like an eternity but it must have only been two minutes later when you began to feel antsy.  Like you were supposed to initiate a friendly conversion.  Some kind of bullshit small talk.  And then your better judgment kicks in, telling you ‘better not’ since the man beside you didn’t seem like the small talk type.  In all fairness you weren’t either but it felt like you had to constantly conform to certain standards.  Then your mouth started running without a second thought because one thought provoked you and now you just had to know.

“So…the bingo night…is that a regular thing?”

A side eye from him may as well have shot daggers directly into you, his movements pausing as he scowled.  So you backtracked.

“N-nevermind–”

“Yes.”  He answers abruptly, much to your surprise.

“Oh.”  

Your voice comes out soft, as if trying not to spook an animal.  And for as annoyed as he looks, he’s the one who answered after you attempted to give him an out.  He was a very conflicting man, hard to read and mysterious.  

“Every Wednesday.  The senior home wants its residents to get out every now and then.”

“And…they chose a bar?”  A smile tugs at your lips, one that you can’t help.

“What’s wrong with that?”  

His face shows offense but his tone holds some kind of amusement, the slightest bit of personality seeping through the cracks and exposing itself to you.

“I just–nothing, it’s just, out of every place they could choose…a bar?”  You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea, shaking your head.

“I mean, we’re the only place that offered.”  

There’s a genuine kind of hurt behind his words.  You’re unable to determine if it was directed toward your question or something else wading through his mind.  Or if it was even meant to slip out in any way based on how closed off he was.  Your guess was that his sudden projection of an emotion was a slip up and that it was up to you to ignore it otherwise he’d give you an even harder time.

“Oh.”  Again, your soft spoken voice carries itself gently to his ears.  “That’s…nice.  Really nice.”  You say honestly, glancing at him.

For having such tough armor and such offputting behavior, Eddie was pretty.  His curls were messy and appeared to be pieced apart by his fingers running through them constantly, leaving them fuzzy and unkempt.  But still appealing.  And his side profile illuminated by the warm lights was soft but still manly, handsome.  He was good looking, there was no denying that.  His personality was rather repelling though and good looks could only get you so far, not that he was flaunting how attractive he was and using it to his benefit.  

Coming out of your trance, you find that you’re both down to the last few glasses, silence taking over once again.  Out of the corner of your eye, you take notice of the way Eddie’s mouth forms numbers again, without sound.

One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

All mouthed as he seems to breathe unevenly.  You don’t draw any attention to your observation much like earlier when you’d caught him doing the same thing.  There were depths to him that you were beginning to feel were unexplored by anyone other than himself.  A loneliness detected beneath the surface of his solid and impenetrable armor.

~end~

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[inbarfink]

The answer to the question of ‘is Manfred von Karma German?’ Is actually a surprisingly complicated one. 

Because in the original version of ‘Ace Attorney’ he is supposed to be a local. That is to say, Japanese. He has a Japanese name (Gō Karuma), he has Implied Off-Screen Japanese Ancestors implied in TGAA2, we pretty much exclusively see him prosecuting cases in Japan, and official media created by official Japanese creatives primarily shows him living in Japan (eg. the Anime).

And then you have Mei/Franziska. Who, in the original Japanese version, was born, raised and studied law in the USA. (And yes, both the Japanese and Localized version say born, I checked).  And she does occasionally refer to herself as Separate and Different from the ‘local’ Japanese characters, there’s this little piece of official art riffing on how much she differs from Larry/Yahari’s idea of an American Woman.

 But she also still has a Japanese name (although I’ve seen some speculation that ‘Mei’ was chosen for the character because it’ll be an easy name to Englishize as ‘May’) and is, you know… still the daughter of the guy we exclusively see running around Japan. The only scene they have together in Game-Canon is when Mei is visiting Japan for vacation in ‘Turnabout Reminiscence’. So while the implication is that Mei did spend most of her time growing up in the US, we don't know how much time Gō spent there. 

And then the American Localization came along, switched Japan to America and America to Germany and then also added the extra wrinkle of giving Gou Karuma the decidedly German-sounding name ‘Manfred von Karma’. Thereby giving him a much bigger implied connection with the country-where-his-daughter-was-born-and-raised then the original, even though every other piece of textual evidence remained the same. He is STILL only seen prosecuting cases in 'America' and, if you add in the Anime narrative and TGAA2 espacially, the plot really doesn't make sense if you assume he lives for any significant amount of time in Germany.

Sure, with the name and all it's hard to deny that he probably has some relation to Germany, but with how the actual text of the game work it's easier to say he's a German expatriate or just an American of German ancestry, then how the Fandom often depicts him - as a man who lives and work in Germany and only occasionally jumps over to also do some work in Japanifornia.

But.... then there's the whole thing with Franziska/Mei being born and raised in Germarica. And I would like to say something like, ‘well, considering this fact, obviously regardless of version Manfred still did actually do lot of business in both Japanifornia and Germarica and spent a lot of time in both countries. It's really just a matter of us not seeing his Amerigerman cases cause they are all obviously Off-Screen for our manin characters. And while Gou Karuma might come across more as a Japanese man who occasionally also works in the US, the changed implications of the name means that Manfred von Karma is probably meant to be read as a German man who occusionally does work in the US. Because OBVIOUSLY he must have spent many years in Germarica considering his own daughter was born and raised there.’

But I can’t.

Because if there is one character who would watch his wife give birth in whatever country has the best law schools and then fuck off back to his homeland while leaving his baby to fend to herself across the the Pacifitlantic ocean - it would be fucking Manfred von Karma!