#Ignore the circle on rarity

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

The Joker(s) And The Queen

Masterlist

Warning: I write the Reader as female

Pairing: Ace x Reader x Deuce

And I know you could fall for a thousand kings

And hearts that would give you a diamond ring

When I fold, you see the best in me

The joker and the queen

- Ed Sheeran, The Joker and the Queen

They are card soldiers and the duty of a card soldier is to serve his queen - but how could they be asked to do that when they’ve already sworn their devout and unyielding loyalty to you? 

If there was one thing that Ace and Deuce could agree on was that you were the best thing that’s ever happened to them. The otherworldly prefect who entered their lives in a blaze of glory.

It wasn’t no one’s fault that you can both brighten and lighten any room you entered, at how all eyes would immediately turn to you. You were someone whose very existence demanded to be awed and admired and praised. And as much as they were more than willing to do all of the above, they knew that they weren’t the only ones.

They would be fools to ignore how beloved you are by the student body, how you have every single student wrapped around your little finger, how despite not possessing a lick of magic in your body, you had become the most powerful being in school with the way you have the rich, famous and mighty treating you as if you were the reason the sun rose in the morning and set at night. It was clear that you were the object of desire of many - and for good reason. Despite your limitations, you were a pillar of strength, boldly facing every adversity that this twisted school threw at you. Your kind nature saving not only the overblotees but also many other students from a dark and tragic fate. Even with no magical abilities you’ve achieved the impossible and they knew that your circle of friends, which at first were only them, Grim and the Ramshackle ghosts, would only continue to grow and grow as more and more of their peers become aware of just how awe-inspiring you are and they are left to wither away in the shadows, left on the cold and dark sidelines to watch as you get pursued by people who are more worthy to bask in your light.

To say that someone like you is a rarity would be an understatement. In this school of villains, of conmen and crooks, tyrants and thieves, of dark beasts that would claw their way to the top through any means necessary, that would lie and stab to achieve their goals, someone as pure and angelic as you was simply unheard of. A celestial beauty so ethereal that even wild animals and woodland creatures are in reverence of you. Your existence was a siren’s call, and like moths to a flame, they are all ready to drown themselves if it meant they could take even a step closer to you.

You have princes, celebrities, men so wealthy that they could buy you an island and consider it pocket money, all ready to give you a life that even fairytale characters could only dream of. You have people with power who could give you anything you desire: titles, crowns, sceptres, the stars and moon. You had the literal world at your fingers and the ability to do whatever you wanted yet- 

Yet you chose them. The objects of your coveted affections, the ones who hold the honour of receiving your tender love and unconditional care, the ones who are blessed with the privilege of calling you theirs - are them. The two foolhardy, act-first-think-second boys who you had to save from expulsion on their first day.

It’s Ace’s eyes you meet from the bleachers of the gymnasium during a basketball match. It’s his name that you’re screaming, cheering and wearing - the bold, block-lettered ‘TRAPPOLA’ on the back of your jersey making it clear just who it is you came there to see. And if there were any fools that weren’t so sure, the breathtaking kiss he plants on your lips after he jogs over to your front row seat in the stands should seal the deal, especially when you reciprocate with fervent enthusiasm.

It’s Deuce’s jacket you wear when you run errands, the oversized black leather that once symbolised physical proof of his shameful past now proudly engulfs your shoulders, the silver ‘Spade’ as clear as day. It’s Deuce who you meet with at the end of his track and field club, it’s his tie that you elegantly loop around his neck and expertly loop into a windsor knot before tugging him towards you and pressing his lips against yours.

It’s them who you open up to, who you let your walls down and tears fall, who you allow to embrace you in your darker moments. It’s them who you run to in your times of joy, who you hug and kiss in elation, not caring who might be watching. It’s them that you praise, that you brag about to others. It’s them who has your full attention. It’s their hands that you hold. It’s them that you invite to Ramshackle and who you snuggle up against late at night.

They showed you the worst of them, from the first day they met you it was clear that they were nothing but trouble: a brash class clown and a violent former gangster yet with all of that, with all the trouble they’ve given you and continue to give you, you still chose them.

Every single day, you choose them. You take their weaknesses and polish them into strengths. You always see the best in them, despite the many instances where you would’ve been well within your right to not. Instead of letting them drag you down, you brought them up, lifting them into the pedestal that was your love. You support them wholeheartedly, in their dreams, passions and pursuits. Never once do you listen to the whispers of others, the ones that call them no-good, tactless mischief makers who would only bring you trouble - instead you’re the one who defends them, who is more than ready to defend them in a blink of an eye.

They know that you’re too good for them, that their reputation is rightfully deserved but please continue to indulge them. Like you are now, with your blissfully sleeping body sandwiched between them, happily snug inside both of their embraces, let them continue to worship you, to covet you like the beloved Majesty you are. Let them continue to hear the words you sleepily whispered to them before you sailed away into the silver mist of your dreams.

“I love you boys”

A card soldier lives to serve his queen so please continue to choose them. They’ll be sure to spend every breath in this life and the next, swearing their hearts, bodies and souls to you in eternal servitude. 

“What do you see in them?” A Pomefiore first year asks you as the two boys are once again being scolded by a teacher for unruly behaviour during class.

You gaze lovingly at your boyfriends, the two that you know without question would stand by your side - the ones that have always stood by your side, since the very beginning - and all you can see is their courage, their loyalty, the fact that no matter how scared you become in this strange, magical new world you know that you have no reason to fear anything if you have those two. 

The only possible answer you can give to your classmate is, “my future.”

How was I to know?

It's a crazy thing

I showed you my hand

And you still let me win

[okarawrites]

Forgive me if I sent this already because my internet was acting up. I stumbled upon your blog as I was searching for some sephiroth x reader fics and well, I was wondering if you could write some smut for him

Reader gets home from work (I work at a fast food place) and after a rough day, sephiroth takes care of them. Starts fluffy and then gets spicy if possible

Hey! Thanks for the request and also sorry for taking so long to reply. I had every intention of writing daily, but then rebirth took over haha.

Love the idea of this and hope I have done your request justice :)

Tense

Your body felt heavy after such a long day. You had been on your feet for 12 hours and each step back to your apartment felt like you were moving in slow motion. All you wanted was to lay on your bed and sleep.

As you opened the door to your apartment, the sight of black boots sitting by the welcome mat reminded you that Sephiroth had told you he was due to finish his training early today so would come over to spend some time with you.

You two had been together for over a year, but due to his strict contract with ShinRa, you had to do your best to keep your relationship on the down low, meaning date nights were a rarity. You instantly felt guilty for feeling so tired, when you should be excited to see Sephiroth.

As you took your shoes off at the door, Sephiroth came out from your living room to greet you. "Hey" you said, offering him a tired smile. He subtly tilted his head to the side, taking in your tired form. "Rough day?" he asked as he closed the gap between you both and pulling you into a hug.

"Not rough as such, just a long one. My back is killing me" You replied, face smooshed slightly into his chest. "hmm" you felt his chest rumble as he hummed his response. He slightly shifted back to allow himself to look down at you. "Well, go and have a lie-down and I'll give your back a rub"

Within minutes you had gotten changed and were lying on you stomach on your bed. Sephiroth was straddled over your thighs, gingerly pouring warmed oil onto your bare back. You couldn't suppress the groan as his strong hands worked into your stiff muscles. He worked miraculously from your hips up, making sure to take enough time to work out each knot as he found them. He was silent as he worked, which made it impossible to hide the muffled moan that you let out as his fingers gently brushed across the side of your breast as his thumbs worked either side of your spine.

Although you missed the slight pause of his fingers in response, there was no ignoring how his fingers continually brushed over the sensitive skin as he finished his work. You could feel yourself getting more and more worked up with every brush of his fingers. Once he was confident he had worked out the tension from your back he lent forward. His hands braced either side of you, caging you in under him, he gently pressed his lips to your neck.

If the kiss wasn't enough of a hint, you could tell what he wanted by the tension in his trousers pressing into your backside. You turned around, still in caged in, but now on your back. You saw a slight smirk on his lips before he moved down to take one of your hardened nipples into his mouth. He let out a groan as his tongue circled you and he brought his hand up to squeeze your other breast. You buried your hands in his hair, needing him to be even closer.

Feeling yourself getting wet, you desperately needed some sort of friction for relief. You slowly tried to open your legs. Feeling you nudge against him, Sephiroth took the hint and moved so that he was now in between your legs. With this extra room to move, you wrapped your legs around his slim waist, pulling him into you.

Sephiroth gasped at the feeling. "Shit. I need to be inside you" he practically moaned as his clothed erection pressed against your clothed core. You also didn't want to wait and you both made quick work of removing any remaining clothes you both had on.

Now both laid bare for one another, Sephiroth took a moment to look into your eyes. His hand came up to cup your cheek and you could see the warmth that was strickly reserved for you in his cat-like eyes. He ran his thumb across your lower lip before he lent down to capture you in a passionate kiss.

As his lips danced with yours, he slowly pushed into you, causing you to gasp at the full sensation when his hips were finally flush with yours. His movements started slow and deliberate. Savoring the sensation of you wrapped around him. Each movement pulled beautiful gasps from your lips as you continued to kiss. When he could feel your pleasure building, his movements became even more focused. Pressing on the places he knew you needed.

His composure fell apart as you did. The feeling of you pulsing around him coaxing out his more primal urges, he began to slam into you with more power. You were beginning to feel overwhelmed by the passion and speed with which he pounded into you when you felt his pace falter.

He held you tight as his orgasm washed over him. You stayed cradled in each other's arms as you both caught your breath. When you finally parted, you were both on your sides facing each other. "I would say that was all part of my plan to get you to relax after work, but I definitely had some selfish intentions" he admitted with a short chuckle. He looked so carefree that you couldn't help but smile back at him and pull him in for another hug.

[bachiras-toaster]

immunity + the inability to listen : ̗̀➛

TOGE INUMAKI x gn!reader

warnings: angst, character death, suicide suggestion? (toge tries to get the reader to kill themself for an experiment). not proof read

sypnosis. you’re immune to cursed speech

: ̗̀➛ Toge Inumaki, being the cursed speech used that he was, wasn’t a man of many words, since he had always been too concerned and worries often about the safety of others.

: ̗̀➛ Since transferring to Jujutsu Tech, he had never slipped up or made a mistake when it came to his cursed speech. He had already made too many mistakes in his childhood, he knew better than to bring those mistakes forward.

: ̗̀➛ However, by sheer happenstance, it was discovered that, for some reason, his cursed speech did not apply to you.

: ̗̀➛ Upon further evaluation, those like Nobara or Maki made comments about how it should’ve been obvious that his cursed speech wouldn’t apply to you because of your cursed technique.

: ̗̀➛ They couldn’t exactly remember how it had happened.

: ̗̀➛ Was he getting mad when losing at a video game and told you to shut up?

: ̗̀➛ Or was he in a bad mood while passing by and subconsciously told you to move?

: ̗̀➛ Either way, the origins of the situation had long been forgotten after they had told Gojo about the whole ordeal.

: ̗̀➛ After being discovered, your sensei had become so intrigued with the situation. He constantly kept the two of you behind to try and test how far your immunity to cursed speech could go.

: ̗̀➛ You and Toge would often be seated together, and put alone in the same room to just talk to each other as Gojo would watch from outside of the room to see if anything would happen.

: ̗̀➛ The experiments started off small: You and Toge would just have regular, short conversations that consisted of words outside of his regular vocabulary of rice ball ingredients- Avoiding any specific commands.

: ̗̀➛ You saw it for the first time how excited he seemed to be when he let out a full sentence without anything happening, like he had been waiting to talk his whole life.

: ̗̀➛ And you saw your sensei’s face light up too with curiosity.

: ̗̀➛ You were able to learn so many new things about Toge that otherwise would’ve never been mentioned.

: ̗̀➛ Originally, your conversations were tame and quite basic, such as talking about what your favourite colours were, and what kind of hobbies the two of you had.

: ̗̀➛ But the more the two of you spoke, the more eager Toge was to continue the conversation.

: ̗̀➛ Every time the two of you were together, he just wanted to talk more. To the point where you knew the more random and obscure facts about each other simply because of how much you were able to converse.

: ̗̀➛ You supposed that this is where your closeness with Toge really started.

: ̗̀➛ Because now, not only were you seated together in classes, but you also hung out during training, outside of training, during the weekends, in your dorms— Wherever you could.

: ̗̀➛ At this point, it was a rarity for anyone to see the two of you with anyone else.

: ̗̀➛ There were hints of jealousy that circled around the students that you were the only one who was able to talk and listen to Toge freely, but they had always been comments you had promptly ignored.

: ̗̀➛ Toge had obviously always felt somewhat close to you, since the classes at Jujutsu Tech had always been very small, but now it was different.

: ̗̀➛ Now Toge had a reason to feel close to you.

: ̗̀➛ You knew Toge better than anyone. And, judging by the amount of time the two of you spent together, he now knew a lot more about you than anyone else at the school did.

: ̗̀➛ Surely you must’ve envisioned that this day would come, where the two of you were sat alone in an empty room, and Toge confessed how the close proximity had changed his perception of you.

: ̗̀➛ You would be lying if you said that you didn’t feel the exact same way about him.

: ̗̀➛ But it was cute. Seeing the way that Toge blushed as he made an attempt to zip up his uniform to cover the lower-half of his face in an attempt to shield his glowing, pink cheeks.

: ̗̀➛ The way he would usually talk with such confidence around you being forced down the drain as he turned into a mumbling mess as he put out his feelings.

: ̗̀➛ However, regardless of if he said it aloud or not, you understood him completely.

: ̗̀➛ And when you took his hand and gave him a soft smile, your eyes spoke more words than your mouths ever could have.

: ̗̀➛ Your new romantic relationship came as no surprise to anyone when it had been announced.

: ̗̀➛ The two of you had always hung out in the same places. Although now, whenever people passed you by, the two of you would be closer together, happier, even.

: ̗̀➛ And at the end of the day, no matter where you hung out, you two would always find your ways back to the classroom where your sensei would hold his various experiments.

: ̗̀➛ Being where it all started, you were always happy to go back to that classroom alone with Toge and Sensei Gojo.

: ̗̀➛ As time progressed, the experiments became a bit more bold.

: ̗̀➛ When it came down to using commands, that's when dangerous territory started to be crossed.

: ̗̀➛ "Toge. You see how they're holding that pen? Try and command them to drop it." Gojo would order.

: ̗̀➛ It didn't work.

: ̗̀➛ Of course, the commands were relatively safe for the first few that he was made to make. But they only got increasingly more demanding the more that Gojo realised you could take.

: ̗̀➛ It went from telling you to drop your pen, to trying to force you out of your seat.

: ̗̀➛ Toge had been given a list of commands that he were to try on you as Gojo spectated from the front of the classroom with the two of you were facing each other- You in your chair and Toge standing a few feet away from you.

: ̗̀➛ Gojo watched with intent as every command was made.

: ̗̀➛ “Get up.”

: ̗̀➛ “Get out of your chair.”

: ̗̀➛ “Stand up.”

: ̗̀➛ All had no success, which only excited your sensei even more. When he had realised your immunity, so many ideas rushed through his brain as he thought of how you could take advantage of this power.

: ̗̀➛ Over time, the commands got even more aggressive, which concerned Toge very much.

: ̗̀➛ He had always hesitated when it came to these types of commands, extremely worried that, somehow, your immunity would falter and that you’d be affected by it.

: ̗̀➛ “…Twist.”

: ̗̀➛ “—Explode—!”

: ̗̀➛ “Sleep.”

: ̗̀➛ And it never ever worked. Not once. Not even by accident or chance.

: ̗̀➛ And even better, his throat never irritated after the command. It was like his cursed speech didn’t even register it as one, only like a regular word.

: ̗̀➛ Perhaps it made sense since, if the command didn’t work, it wouldn’t be right if he were to be affected by it.

: ̗̀➛ Plus, you were never going to be affected by his words anyway.

: ̗̀➛ But the wave of relief that always washed over Toge’s body when his violent commands didn’t come through always put him at ease.

: ̗̀➛ The way he held his heart in sheer thankfulness when things didn’t work made your heart melt. He really did care about your safety.

: ̗̀➛ And the way you subconsciously tensed your body whenever a violent command was made didn’t help ease Toge’s concerns as he saw that you were just as scared to do the experiments as he was now.

: ̗̀➛ Though, it seems like your concerns were all for nothing. It never worked.

: ̗̀➛ You smiled and let out a sigh of relief after Toge’s last command of ‘get crushed’ was yet another failure.

: ̗̀➛ The three of you: you, Toge, and Gojo, had all worked really hard on testing the boundaries of your immunity, but it seemed like you had finally met your mark as Toge cheerfully smiled at Gojo, almost excited at the fact that he was able to do that without killing you.

: ̗̀➛ But for some reason, the lesson didn’t end there.

: ̗̀➛ “Now, I want you to try telling them to die.”

: ̗̀➛ Both the shock and anxiety on Toge’s face was more than telling as he turned towards Gojo with extremely widened eyes.

: ̗̀➛ He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes said something along the lines of ‘really? you actually want me to say that?’

: ̗̀➛ How else were you going to find out how far this immunity stretched? If all of the other commands were useless, how were you to know if this specific one would?

: ̗̀➛ Never in Toge’s life had he even uttered the word ‘die’. It should’ve been enough to accidentally curse people with fairly harmless words, so he had always been too afraid to use it.

: ̗̀➛ Especially on you.

: ̗̀➛ He would be lying if he said he wasn’t even a little curious, but his love for you stretched further than his curiosity. And even though you looked back to him with a consenting smile, he still refused to try.

: ̗̀➛ It took hours for Toge to finally be convinced. In those hours, Gojo had tried asking him to use different commands, ones that weren’t specifically the word ‘die’, but ones that could elude to it. 

: ̗̀➛ Such as trying to get you to do things that would inevitably end up in your own death.

: ̗̀➛ But Toge refused it all.

: ̗̀➛ Slowly, the hours formed from Gojo thinking of commands to both you and your sensei trying to convince Toge that this would be beneficial, and if it worked, it would be an insane level of power.

: ̗̀➛ Though, even though you were completely consenting to it, he was still reluctant.

: ̗̀➛ How could you even convince your own boyfriend to actively try and kill you over an experiment?

: ̗̀➛ Well, it took a while, but after all the speeches of convincing from Gojo, paragraphs of consent from you, and a final moment where you held his hand and promised that you would be okay, he folded.

: ̗̀➛ The two of you stood on opposite sides of the room, with Gojo stood a few feet behind you.

: ̗̀➛ The way you stood made you look like a nervous training dummy.

: ̗̀➛ And the way Toge was stood was looked to be in preparation, however his fear was still very prevalent in the way he stared nervously at you.

: ̗̀➛ As he anxiously zipped down his uniform to reveal the marks around his mouth for hopefully the last time that day, there was a jolt of hesitance in his speech.

: ̗̀➛ His purple eyes pierced into yours and told a story of fear, but he shakily let out that single word nevertheless.

: ̗̀➛ “…Die.”

: ̗̀➛ His eyes were completely sealed shut at his own nervousness, and he was afraid to open them to what he might find.

: ̗̀➛ Although, when he did, he was greeted with the sight of you still standing. You had flinched a bit, but when his command had no effect, your nervousness had eased extremely.

: ̗̀➛ Toge also saw the view of Gojo standing prepared to step in in case anything were to happen, but nothing did.

: ̗̀➛ When he realised your safety, he broke out into the most ecstatic smile as he ran up to you, pulling you into a tight hug before planting a kiss on your lips. The relief in his eyes was so loud, and the way he squeezed you only proved how scared he was.

: ̗̀➛ After it was finally discovered that Toge’s speech was completely harmless to you, he wasted no time wanting to now spend every hour with you.

: ̗̀➛ Being able to, not only talk, but make jokes towards each other. Teasingly telling the other to ‘shut up’ without being afraid that Toge would accidentally remove your ability to speak.

: ̗̀➛ It was bliss.

: ̗̀➛ Everything was so perfect.

: ̗̀➛ The two of you could go on trips together, spend the entire school day with each other, and the fear of his cursed technique wouldn’t even matter.

: ̗̀➛ Even so, when it came down to this mission that the two of you had gone on, he wished that it worked just this once.

: ̗̀➛ You had rarely ever found yourself in complete danger, but it seemed like the superiors had underestimated the severity of the situation.

: ̗̀➛ He wished that he could’ve gotten you to fall back, or to not continue with the mission.

: ̗̀➛ “(Y/n), please. I’m telling you right now, it’s too dangerous! Stand back!”

: ̗̀➛ “No! You know this. Your commands don’t work on me!”

: ̗̀➛ You were irritatingly confident in your own skills that set off a heavy flush of fear in Toge’s body.

: ̗̀➛ And he was never the type to say ‘I told you so’, but it really would’ve applied to this situation.

: ̗̀➛ Because nothing got past you.

: ̗̀➛ And nothing got past that cursed spirit that grasped you tightly by the waist.

: ̗̀➛ His commands went from desperate, to really, really desperate.

: ̗̀➛ “Run away!” He would say to you, before he’d scream:

: ̗̀➛ “Put them down!” to the cursed spirit.

: ̗̀➛ However, by the time that you had been dropped down, and before he could use his cursed speech to crush the cursed spirit, your insides had practically been crushed by the weight of the monster’s grasp.

: ̗̀➛ You were limp in his arms as he felt his own hatred towards himself consume his body.

: ̗̀➛ He shook you a little, trying to bite back the tears in his eyes.

: ̗̀➛ “…Breathe.” Toge weakly sputtered out, unfortunately to no avail.

: ̗̀➛ “…Heal…”

: ̗̀➛ He felt his lip quiver as he sniffled, his grasp on you tightening even moreso now.

: ̗̀➛ His eyes darkened down at yours as his hand drew over your face to brush the back of his palm against your cheek.

: ̗̀➛ “…Live…”

: ̗̀➛ “…Please.”

[geek-jpeg]

.ʀᴇɴᴇɢᴀᴅᴇ ᴍᴀᴛʀɪᴀʀᴄʜ.

An early morning fog blanketed the dense landscape, beams of gold jutting through the branches of evergreens. The first traces of life began to reveal themselves, the hushed melody of birdsong and the silencing of katydids in response.

Life persists, even in the most unexpected of places.

Deep within the forest was an outcropping; rocks of varying size protruded from the earth, surrounding a deep crevice like protective barriers. The sound of rustling bounced off of the sheer walls of the pit.

An old hen, a Deinonychus who'd been laying amongst what greenery managed to survive deep within the chasm, raised her head from the dirt. Despite how long she'd been resting, she looked as if like she might as well had forgone sleep. With an intensive shake of her feathers, ridding herself of the morning dew and remnants of unconsciousness that clung to her, she stood up. She stretched her aching limbs, a slight tremble as her wings fanned out, before tucking them close to her yellowing breast once more.

She surveyed her surroundings, plodding around as she sniffed the ground, the air around her.

Her fellow kin were nowhere to be seen, their scent having already begun to fade. Without the energy to keep up, the hen resigned to watching over the territory, knowing her pack of defectors would return eventually.

The cool morning air nipped at exposed skin and scales, sending a chill through her body. The chasm, while it held safety for the most part, had the fault of blocking the warmth that daylight provided - until it was positioned in just the right way, in a very particular spot. The hen eyed the ridgeline, before turning her attention to a tall, but conveniently flat-topped rock that sat in the middle of the natural skylight, still shrouded in shade.

-

Dull talons scraped the hard surface, marred with previous gouges from past attempts. With what little vigor remained, the old hen managed to haul herself up onto that rock, the stone colder than the space around her. She paced around in circles for a few moments, before letting her weary bones rest once more, settling down and curling around herself.

She then waited...

And waited.

Until finally, the golden rays struck her inky, sleek feathers. Her wings, once tucked against her, were now spread out - eager to catch as much of that warmth as possible. Tense muscles slackened as slumber threatened to claim the hen once more, but she fought to ignore it, at least for now. This kind of peace was a rarity, something to be cherished. The light of the rising sun cascaded over jagged surfaces, enveloping the fatigued little raptor with a type of solace that had been lost on her for many years.

With the rhythmic rise and fall of her ribcage, the occasional huff through her nostrils and twitch of a claw, the matriarch rested.

-

[amidstnamjin-and-binchanlix]

how long can you stand the heat || ot7

Warnings: Uhhh, none I think? Non-graphical smut and slight angst, but that's pretty much it for now since I'm still crafting the next part, and some curse words lmao.

I won't control you, but MDNI. This is not for you, please.

Pairings: OT7/(F) Reader, Jackson Wang/(F) Reader

Plot: The one where your soulmates don't want you in their life, so you give them what they want and stay out of their way.

Genre: not really unrequited love (but they're all idiots), mutual pining, angst, denial of feelings, poly ot7

How do you think I'm going to get along

Without you when you're gone?

You took me for everything that I had

And kicked me out on my own.

Are you happy? Are you satisfied?

How long can you stand the heat?

Out of the doorway the bullets rip

To the sound of the beat.

mixtape: all i have left to give - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - ending 1

I originally posted this on ao3 last April but I've just recently thought, "why not post this on tumblr now that i'm using it again after a few years?"

this fic is v self-serving, and was brought to you by my ✨maladaptive daydreams✨

first fic i posted here. idek what im doing but lezzgawwww

Title obviously came from AOBTD. Thank you, Sir John Deacon. You are heaven-sent for making this iconic and legendary bop.

This will be a part of a multi-fic series and i've already crafted 80/90-ish% of the next part im so sorry my mind isn't cooperating rn

✨️

God must be testing your patience.

I mean sure, you might not also be sure that there is indeed a god out there somewhere. However, you must have pissed off some deity or you had pissed on some old man of the mound. Either way, you don't care. You're pissed off now, too.

You see when they rejected you and asked (read: avoided you like the plague until Sejin spoke with you) not to speak or interact with them, you respected their wishes. It stung, but it's not really surprising.

It's not a secret that the seven of them are soulmates, polyamorous soulbonds not even a rarity in and out of the industry. However, it's also not a secret that they're very exclusive and don't let too many (if any) other people in their circle because of the things they had to endure as a group. It makes sense that they wouldn't want a new person intruding and messing with their dynamics, soulmate or not.

(deep down you want to say it doesn't make sense. you're their soulmate, why can't they accept you like that? but there's still nothing you can do, isn't there?)

And so, you delegated all your tasks related to their group to your most trusted employees completely and avoided them at all costs. And by 'at all costs', you mean everything. You even deleted all their songs on your playlists and blocked them on social media (even on Spotify). You can co-exist with them without interacting, although it makes your chest ache through the bond because of the soul rejection like a 24/7 acid relapse.

It's fine. You can ignore all that. You can handle rejection. You've been used to this since you were a kid; adult you can handle this.

Soul rejection side effects? Nothing meds and doctors can't fix. Technology has never been more advanced and all that jazz.

You're a mature person, and you pride yourself on that. You don't like confrontations that much and would rather step back as much as you can to disengage. If your soulmates don't want anything to do with you, then you'll back off.

But you sometimes wonder if they can feel it too, the soul strings fraying and slowly decaying. After shit went down, it's bouts of nausea and dizziness, and constant chest aches for you. That's not even half of it. It'll take a whole day for you to list all your symptoms.

If they do feel it, does it add to their list of reasons why they hate your existence? You mean, they had been borderline antagonistic since your first meeting, cold but civil at best.

It was a contrast to the way the tiny soul marks on each of your fingers glowed on your first meeting even until after Taehyung and Yoongi fled in what you can guess is disbelief and refusal, the others following suit. The warmth in your hands felt scorching, and you had never wanted to scrub them with water in your life then more than you ever did, your chest beating hard and painfully. You remember feeling like someone slashed your insides with a hot knife, and it has never stopped being in pain ever since.

What else were you supposed to think other than they hate you?

Not wanting to risk another embarrassing conversation with Sejin (bless his heart), you decided to book an appointment and signed up for the relatively new soul-scraping therapy. It's still in its human trial stages and is slowly being recognized as a way of severing soul ties, albeit not approved and sanctioned by the government. Anything to give and honor their wishes. They're your soulmates, and it's innate in you to give people what they want.

(or was it really just that?)

All of that and everything else, you can take. You live and abide by your life motto to stay out of drama, so you take all of it in stride and with dignity because it's all you have left at this point when it comes to them.

This is where you got pissed off, though. This day takes the cake, this sodding party.

Attending the party was certainly not your idea. You're tired from the long-ass meetings you had today—JYP's team asked for a meeting for your agreement with Day6 since Sungjin got discharged a few months ago with Younghyun following suit in a few days. A party is definitely not on your to-do list. If it's up to you, you'll be going home to your phone and fics.

(and if they're bangtan fics, nobody has to know. this, you can let yourself have—you were advised against going cold turkey from them by the doctors handling the soul-scraping therapy, after all. if you can't have them, maybe you can at least indulge in fictional them.)

You have been minding your own business since you arrived at the bar. It's laughable how socially inept you are despite handling your business and meeting the entertainment industry's biggest names and leaders regularly. When being put in parties and other gigs that force you to socialize just for the sake of socializing, you're back to being the fat loser kid that avoided making new friends because the ones you previously had in childhood (if you can really call them that) can't understand how your brain and mouth work. Frankly, you don't, too, so you just preferred to stay in one corner until it's socially acceptable to go home.

"Hey." Jackson squeezes your hand in his and smiles worriedly at you. "You doing okay?"

Jackson had been a long-time friend and is someone you trust your whole life with. Jackson had seen you through your bests and worsts, but had never once turned his back on you or betrayed you as many people did.

Yeah, you would trust him with your whole life. Your panties too, but don't tell him that.

(there's no need to because he knows; he did lots of times before, with his face between your thighs and your undies in his pocket.)

"I'm good." You don't even bother smiling, knowing it won't convince him too much. He knows your stand on parties; you're his polar opposite, after all. "I just really wanna go home."

"Can I come with?" he asks with a salacious smile.

You roll your eyes.

"Stop being horny for five minutes, please."

"You shouldn't have worn that dress, then." He rakes you with an assessing look. "On second thought, that's the best decision you did tonight so far. If you're not going home with anyone tonight, my room's open."

"You up to be my wingman?" you ask.

"Sure. I'll sit with you all night so we can look like a swinger couple scouting for a third we can take home." He waggles his eyebrows.

You snort at that with an amused chuckle, oblivious to the glare(s) directed your way by—who else?—your soulmates.

They (Taehyung) heard from Manager Sejin and Noona Ae-cha that you're not sure if you can come. They didn't know why the two were talking about you, but Taehyung tried to act immersed in his phone while eavesdropping.

Apparently, you had been stuck in the boardroom almost all day with the back-to-back meetings, and you even had to cancel your doctor's appointment. For what the appointment is for, he didn't know. It explains your absence that day, and he files the information away at the back of his head. He can't for the life of him understand why he can't stop trying to spot crumbs about you.

(he does know, but he's in denial about why—and he'll deny both.)

He then told his hyungs and Jungkook, which they just nodded at, seemingly uninterested. But if Namjoon's faraway serious look at times is anything to go by or the way Jimin picks at the skin on his lips as he's lost in thought, he's pretty sure they are also subtly trying to figure out if you're coming.

(but they'll all deny that if asked.)

They haven't seen you that much since they started actively avoiding you months ago and shut down whatever soul link you have with them, and you are damn good at trying to stay out of their way.

It surprised them, they're not gonna lie. They expected you to put up a fight, but all Manager Sejin told them was that you agreed. You never interacted with them ever since unless it was really needed, and you were always wearing your rings and not making unnecessary eye contact even once.

(and that somehow pisses them off and itches under their skin because how dare you not be interested?)

And now you've been here for the past hour or so, Jackson Wang in tow. Or rather, Jackson has his arms alternately snaked around yours or slung around your shoulders. It makes Jackson look like a frat douchebag.

(and it makes taehyung look jealous and interested in you which he is so not, no.)

Hoseok was the first one to spot you arriving, Another One Bites The Dust thumping through the dancefloor that was bathed in red lights. He nudges Namjoon from his seat in their secluded and swanky VIP room that was separated one floor above the bar proper.

"There she is", he says then, gesturing towards you as all seven pairs of eyes land on you as you enter with Jackson. "She's with Wang."

With varying levels of internal turmoil, they all watch as Jackson led you through the throngs of people, presumably to another room like theirs. They see you shake your head and point to the bar, and Jackson's face light up with a wide smile before redirecting your steps.

Yoongi asks himself why you have to wear that dress or why Jackson has to clutch at your hands like a little kid, the others having a similar train of thought. Does Jackson think he's going to be lost in this bar? Is he that plain stupid to be lost in this bar, really?

And why are you letting him?

Jimin tries not to let his eyes wander on your legs, tries not to let his mind wander back to the thought of being choked by your thick supple legs and ripping that off-shoulder dress off you and—

Oh. Woah, there.

Stop it! he thinks to himself and shakes his head.

(this is not the first time he's thought of this, darling. when he first saw those smooth and lovely-looking plump thighs, he knows he was fucked.)

Jin is no better, but he hides it better than the others. After all, it was not his idea to shut you out like that. He was opposed to it and tried to talk some sense into the others, but they didn't listen. He thought back then that Namjoon would at least be reasonable and give you a shot but nooo, the kid was stupid enough to listen to others.

Let them have what they want, then.

(he can feel the pit and longing in his chest some nights and thinks that maybe he can let the others do what they want but still do what he wants too. but he takes a look at the six men who had been there for him through thick and thin, and he can't lose them. he sends you an apology mentally, hoping you can at least feel it through the bond.)

"Calm down," Jin tells them levelly, trying to pry the glass off Namjoon's hand, lest he crushes it and injures himself. "You're crushing the poor thing, Joonie. Don't wanna end up in the ER, do you?"

Jackson's the one to end up in the ER if he doesn't unwrap his arms from your shoulders, that's who, Namjoon thinks to himself bitterly before he can stop himself.

Jin leans back on his seat and watches as you laugh with Jackson, arms slung around your shoulders as the latter listens to you talk. They all wouldn't have to seethe in barely contained anger if they just listened to him though, so who's at fault here?

Aish, these brats.

"I'm going to get more drinks," Jungkook suddenly says, disentangling himself from Taehyung fluidly.

"You can just ask them," Namjoon says, pointing towards the glass doors where their security detail is posed out of the room. "There's no need to go out."

"I'm going to get more drinks," Jungkook repeats firmly, ignoring him. Namjoon's jaw clenches. "Come help me, Jin-hyung?"

Ah, this conniving brat. Jin wants to kiss his pouty lips for this.

"Sure," Jin says easily, much to Namjoon's annoyance. He pats Namjoon's cheeks gently. "No breaking the glass, Joon-ah. We have a photoshoot tomorrow."

He pulls Jungkook out of the room before any of them can disagree further. He loops his arm around Jungkook's petite waist, nodding once to the man stationed at the door.

"You're not just getting drinks at you, aren't you?" Jin asks as they descend the steps.

"I don't know what you're talking about, hyung." Jungkook's smile is sharp. "I just don't wanna get roofied and end up on the tabloids tomorrow, is all."

"You don't have to lie to me," Jin says, kissing his hair. "I wanna see her, too."

Jungkook's smile turns sad at that.

"I just don't understand. [Name]-noona seems like a nice person. They're all being stupid."

Jin has to agree. "But you know why we have to, right? I don't like it, too, but we have no choice."

"But we do!" Jungkook insists. "We can be friends, even."

"Friends don't fuck friends." Jungkook snorts at that. "There's nothing 'friends' about wanting her with us, Jungkook."

"Friends don't fuck friends, my ass," Jungkook mumble mockingly. "That didn't stop Jackson-hyung at all."

Jin stops momentarily, pulling Jungkook to a stop. "Excuse me?"

"They were having sex last week, hyung. When Jackson-hyung came over last Wednesday."

"Was that why...?"

"Yeah." Jungkook takes his hand as they walk again. "I felt it through the strings, too."

Jungkook is suspiciously not meeting his eyes.

"Jungkook-ah."

"What?" he asks innocently. Jin's lips pull into a smirk.

"You naughty cat!"

"I—what? No!" but Jungkook is still not meeting his eyes. "I didn't watch them."

Jin gasps delightedly.

"This is so much better. I didn't even say anything yet!"

Ah, fuck.

In Jungkook's defense, he hadn't meant to listen in. But he had been on his way back to the practice room from relieving his screaming bladder when he heard it. The warmth and arousal that was definitely not his he had been ignoring since that lunchtime was not helping his curiosity.

"Ah!" And oh shit, it's someone moaning and it's you.

That explains the arousal he's been feeling. Oh, and the jealousy now (his), too.

"Yeah?" A deeper voice asked breathlessly. Another punched-out moan from you, and the arousal flares in his chest.

Yup. It's definitely his this time.

"Jackson, please," your equally breathless voice pleaded, and the sound shot to his cock. Jungkook had to stop his hand from going south inside his pants and boxers.

A delighted shriek and breathless laugh, followed by a staccato of 'ah ah ah's and hips slapping against each other punctuated the otherwise silent afternoon he was having.

And what would a self-respecting man do?

Stay and listen to you get railed six ways to Sunday, was what he did.

(jungkook didn't say he's a self-respecting man.)

Jungkook slipped his hand inside his pants and boxers and wrapped his hand around his aching cock. He almost moaned at how your moans quickly reached a whole other level of desperation. He wondered and tried to imagine how you would feel around him if he fucked you harder and deeper than Jackson possibly can.

He knows he can.

"Hands, Jackson." There was a chuckle, then your whine was heard. "Baobei, please."

Jungkook heard Jackson's sharp intake of breath, and he had to internally agree. Even speaking Mandarin, you sound so hot.

He heard you mewl with a choked giggle as the sounds of hips to hips got faster.

"You really like my hands, huh?" Jackson asked.

"Mhm. Want them wrapped around my—ah!—neck all the time."

Fuck.

Jungkook had to bite onto his hands as he came, so as not to give his position away, cock spurting on his hands,. Seconds later and he heard you cry out and Jackson grunt to completion.

So, no. He definitely didn't watch.

"You nasty, nasty boy!" Jin cackles at him and he wants to pout. "You listened in to them having sex?!"

"Hyung!" Jungkook hisses. "Not too loud."

Jin snickers at him, mouth pulled in a tempting smirk he wants to kiss. "Was it good?"

"Hyung," he whines. At Jin's unfaltering smirk, he sighs. "It was. She sounds so good, hyung. I can't take it off my mind."

"Maybe later, we can do something about that." Jin says with a low hum.

He peers at Jin's eyes and almost shudders at the dark and hungry look in them. Jin squeezes his waist, and it takes Jungkook's breath away.

In his silence, Jin nods with a hum.

"Hm, definitely later."

He won't say no to that. If they can't have you, Jungkook's gonna take what he can get, even if it means settling on replaying your moans in his head.

When they reach the bar, you are still sitting at the other end with Jackson. They are careful not to be seen by you or you'll probably leave like you always do when they get within your 10-foot vicinity.

Then Jackson puts his hand on your slightly exposed leg. He feels the others' jealousy through the bond first before he feels his own, and he sees you stiffen in your seat.

Hyungs!

Jungkook quickly looks away, but not before Jackson catches his gaze. He completely misses the way Jackson's mouth pulls into a quick smirk as their drinks are thankfully served at that exact moment.

"Wanna head back to your place?"

You're unexpectedly suddenly close, and it's like Jackson wants him and Jin to hear to rile them up. It works, and he can barely tamp down the urge to pour the drinks over Jackson's big head, being older be damned.

"Sure. I'll just swing by the restroom." You say as you walk away. Jin and Jungkook take that as their cue to go back to their ritzy room.

"That was short," Jin says tightly as they go back. "Was it you?"

Jungkook shakes his head.

Jin's lips quirk into an amused smile.

"Ah, jealous bastards."

"Weren't you too, though?" Jungkook asks with a slightly amused smile of his own. "That was... that was intense."

"That serves them," Jin says as they near the room. "If they weren't just pigheaded, it's my shoulders her legs are gonna be hanging from later."

"Jin-hyung!" Jungkoo huffs, but then deflates. "Yeah."

"Don't worry, we still have later," Jin says with a lascivious smirk.

And he can't complain about that, can he?

"Where's Tae-hyung?" he asks when they enter the room, Taehyung nowhere in sight.

"Went out. Didn't say where." Hoseok says as he accepts their drinks and puts the tray on the table. It takes a few seconds for him to piece it all together, and he mentally facepalms.

"Whatever happened to 'not giving a fuck' about [Name]?" he mumbles.

"Jungkook," Namjoon warns.

It sets him off.

"What? Are you all really going to keep on pretending? You do realize I felt that back there too, right?" he shoots back.

"So the drinks were just a ruse?" Namjoon's face is stormy.

Jungkook holds his gaze steady. "And what if it was? You all know what I felt about this since day one."

"Kook-ah." It's Jimin this time. "Not now, please."

"And when, hyung? When we go back to just pretending an eighth of our soul doesn't exist out there?"

"Jungkook."

He glares at Yoongi. "No, hyung. If you all want to be stupid, I don't! [Name]-noona is going through therapy because of this, don't you know?"

Yoongi scoffs. "She's a big girl, she can handle herself."

"Not soul-scraping therapy, she won't."

They all stop at that. Even Jungkook stops and internally curses.

Fuck, he wasn't supposed to say that.

"What did you say?" Namjoon's voice takes on a dangerous tone.

He huffs but stays silent, not really wanting to dig a deeper hole for himself.

"Jungkook."

"I talked to Jiho-hyung, okay? I bumped into him five months ago when he visited her."

Silence.

"Im Jiho?" At Jungkook's nod, Namjoon's frown deepened. "I didn't know he practices soul-scraping."

"He's co-authoring the soul-scraping study with Doctor Seong."

At the mention of one of their previous soul health doctors, Yoongi raises his eyebrows.

"Our Doctor Seong?"

Jungkook nods with a sigh, plopping down beside Hoseok. "Apparently, it's why he stopped private practice—to focus on the studies. They're also lobbying for fully legalizing soul-scraping in the Assembly. I ran into him, and he mentioned that he was there for noona's side effects from the therapy."

Side effects?

Shit.

"W-wait. Five months, you said?" Jin says with a tremble in his voice. "Is that why I can barely feel her anymore?"

Jungkook's sigh is pained, forlorn. "Apparently, yeah."

They all lapse in complete silence after that, the thumping of the beat on the dancefloor faint through the walls.

"Fuck."

Indeed.

It is then that Taehyung comes back. He takes one look at their varying degrees of solemn and stunned expressions and tilts his head.

"What? What happened?" he asks.

"[Name]..."

Taehyung's eyes widen before his expression smooths into indifference.

"I told you, I'm no—"

"That's not it," Jimin says softly. "She's in soul-scraping therapy, Taehyung-ah."

...

"What?"

(oh, lord. you don't know the turmoil you caused all these pining idiots, darling.)

---

And what about you?

As we said in the beginning, god must be testing your patience.

"Hey," Jackson says softly. He lifts your chin with a gentle smile long after Taehyung fucked off to god knows where. "You good, baobei?"

You didn't even know they were here. You were vaguely aware that yeah, they might be, but it totally slipped your mind. Meetings really did drain your brain.

When you stood up and went to the restroom while Jackson called for the driver, you didn't know that Taehyung was watching you from their room and completely high-tailed it from there just to intercept you when he saw you stand up from the corner of the bar. You didn't know why, but his stupid drunken ass just decided it wanted and it was a good idea to rile you up.

To piss you off is why, you think.

When you exited the ladies' room, Taehyung was standing there by the wall looking lethal. The ache in your chest flared up for two different reasons, but you ignored it. You ignored him and started walking away, pretending you didn't see him.

"So you're really here."

Seriously?

You continued ignoring him and walked on, but he didn't let you get far.

He grabs your wrist. "I said, you're really here."

The spot where he held you burned and you hissed, cursing the therapy's side effects. You were warned that coming in contact skin-to-skin with your soulmates while undergoing the therapy would feel painful (literally), but you didn't heed it then. You had no reason to touch them after all when they didn't even want to see you.

But it is painful, and it burns.

You yanked your wrist away, hiding your wrist behind your back. There's no need for that, though. Taehyung was looking at your face intently.

"Yes, and I was just leaving. See you around, T—"

"With Jackson?"

What's it with this guy?

You looked back at him and squared your shoulders up. "That's really none of your business, Taehyung."

He laughed with a sneer, shaking his head.

"What would people say if they knew you're off gallivanting with men who aren't your soulmate?"

Wow.

The nerve of this asshole.

You can't let him see it affect you though, so you tilt your head with an innocent smile.

"I'm just a nobody. Why would they talk about me? " You smirked in amusement. "I don't think it'll be me they will talk about since I wasn't the one who rejected my soulmate, was I?"

And oh, shit. Where did that come from, [Name]? Feisty.

"And I'm not doing anything illegal. Why should I be scared?" You slightly lean back and tilt your chin up. "I'm not the one between us with a reputation to uphold, a name I should protect."

You paused, a serene smile on your face.

"I'm not a coward. I'm not you, Taehyung"

The smirk on his lips was replaced with a sharp look of disdain, almost like he wants to slap the smile off your face.

(he wants to, darling. trust me. just not in the way you think.)

You knew you hit a nerve and it feels petty and mean, but it's nothing compared to the loneliness and pain they gave you these past few months. It felt satisfying, even if for just a bit.

"You really think you're all that, don't you?" He smiled almost mockingly. "Tell me, how does it feel to be rejected?"

That really stung and angered you, but you've spent all your life hiding your emotions when needed to. Your expression didn't falter.

"It feels good—"

"—because she dodged a bullet."

You internally sighed in relief as Jackson's voice float behind you. You'll forever be thankful for this man's existence, gods or not.

You melt in his arms when he wrapped them around your waist. You chanced a look at Jackson, not seeing the twitch on Taehyung's brows at your body language.

"You really think you're all that, don't you?" Jackson mocked back at him. "Imagine thinking it's the end of the world for your soulmate just because you shut down their bond." Jackson chuckled ruthlessly.

"You're pathetic, Taehyung-ssi."

The two were locked in a glowering match before Taehyung straightened up and spun on his heel without a word.

Jackson let you get your bearings by the wall of the hallway to the ladies' room in silence. But he didn't let you stew in your thoughts for long.

So now here you are, looking at his gentle eyes.

"You good, baobei?"

You don't know how to answer that really, so you pull him by the collar into a searing kiss.

He puts his hand on your waist, the other on the wall by your face, and you tighten your hold on his collar.

You pull away to gasp for air.

"Take me home," you exhale heavily as you lean your head on his shoulder. "Take me home and fuck me 'til I forget, or I might do something stupid."

Jackson's sharp intake of air is your answer before he pulls you away to your awaiting car outside the club.

---

feedback (constructive, please don't be too rude bc i'll cry) and kudos very much appreciated!

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 8

Summary: The team heads in to deal with the Wolf, things don't go as planned

Warnings/tags: Minors DNI - swearing, smoking, character with trauma, British slang, military inaccuracies, established relationship

*some dialog from the game used in this chapter*

A/N: dialog written in bold italics is in Arabic

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 4.7 K

[AO3]

October 29, 2019 22:20 - The Wolf’s Den, Takkari, Urzikstan

Fuck, she could go for a fag right now. 

The thought circled Rory’s brain like a buzzard. Something to steady the nerves, to quiet the shaking in her hand. 

The closer they got to the target the more the uneasy tension built in her shoulders. The instinctive squeeze of the muscles and tendons that warned her she was stepping foot into the territory of another predator. Sharp teeth and claws ready to clamp down on them and tear, acting without mercy.

Boots tapped rhythmically on the cold metal floor below her, the beating of the helicopter blades a steady hum like the droning of a backing synthesizer, dulling out the music that played in her ears as they flew in on approach to the Wolf’s Den. Trying her hardest to focus on the lyrics, hands patting her knees to the beat, she hummed just loud enough to drown out her thoughts. 

Garrick's attention fleetingly landed on her from time to time, shaking his head with a quiet laugh when he recognized the tune. He was lucky he wasn't having to deal with her singing in the shower – that was a torture only John had to deal with, and he had since learned to keep a spare set of earplugs with him before she tried her hand at the falsetto portions of a Queen harmony.

Glancing over at Price’s new recruit sat hunched over beside her, quiet, she had to admit she was the tiniest bit surprised. Most soldiers she knew tended to amp themselves up before going into a firefight, readying themselves for the heat of battle. Listening to music, putting themselves on high alert, increasing the adrenaline coursing through their veins if only to ignore the fear that simmered in the pit of them. Life or death biding its time, just moments away, the relative state of calm they rode in on quickly fading into the past. “Are you always this quiet flying into enemy territory, Sergeant?” She asked, pulling out her headphones and leaning over towards him, raising her voice just above the din. “Only my second time, to be fair.” She hummed. “Good point. It gets easier. Survive a few more of these and rather than sitting in silence you’ll start filling the void.” Shifting, she adjusted and re-checked her tac gear. Taking her meditative inventory of supplies in her vest as her hands brushed over each pocket. “Most soldiers have a playlist. Doesn’t really matter what it is that’s playing as long as it gets you in the right headspace – I know of at least one bloke who listens to classical before heading in.” “Really? And what about you, ma’am?”

Giving him the side-eye, her brow furrowed. “I was serious about that earlier, you know? You really don’t have to call me that, Sergeant.” “What should I call you then?” Flashing her a charming half-grin, the little scar on his cheek flexed, and she couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Sinclair. Hell, Rory’s even better.” She sighed and sat back in her seat, turning her head to look at him. “Listen, apologies for coming off as a right bint before, that wasn’t on.” Rubbing at the back of her neck, she continued, “You didn't deserve that. Consider it… personal bias. Or better yet, me being an absolute cunt – something that I generally try to be above, but alas, I am only human.” She paused for a beat, looking him over once more. “You seem like quite a nice chap actually.” Kyle gave her a tight lipped little grin. “Ta.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, she changed the subject by returning to the initial discussion topic. “As for my taste in music, I’m an 80’s New Wave girl. Blondie, New Order, Depeche Mode – that sort of thing. A rarity, apparently. Most tend to stick with the heavy metal.” 

Rolling her eyes, she thought of the countless times she’d had to listen to John’s music – ever the product of his generation – if it wasn’t Metallica and Motorhead, then it was nu metal classics like Slipknot. It was one of the many things her and Price had learned to agree to disagree over in their relationship.

“It’s all about the rituals though, innit?”

“A soldier is nothing without their superstitions, I’ll give you that.”

“Sort of like the Captain and his mid flight cigar?” He gave her a quiet little smirk, just enough of one to let her know it was a lighthearted jab. Oh, she was starting to like this one. 

“Ah, so he didn’t spare you from that habit of his, eh? He’s a bloody chimney and I’m no better, I just don’t tend to light up in enclosed spaces like he does,” she snickered. “He’s used to having people not call him out for it either.” Dark eyes landed on her in a moment of quietude as her laugh petered out. “How long have you known the Captain?” She’d always had a sixth sense for when someone was as perceptive as she was and the shield would raise, guarding herself – and in this case, John as well. “Two years now. Worked a mission together.”

“And now you two are…?” He asked with a little lift of his brow.

The poker face, the unreadable stare that gave nothing away, the one she’d perfected in the company of the Captain, settled on her features. “Armed compatriots.”

“But you’re close, yeah?”

Rory paused, tipping her head to the side. The eyes that could read a man clicking into focus like the shutter on a camera. “What are you digging for, Garrick?” She asked with an easy smirk, maintaining a relaxed atmosphere.

“Nothing. Just curious is all,” he replied with a shrug.

“You know you'd make a good interrogator. We share the same trait of having a face and an air about us that puts others at ease, lets people open up quicker – unless they're trained not to,” she said with a sideways glance, a bit of a warning in her look. “As much as I can appreciate John's brand of intimidation, it doesn't always have the desired effect in every situation. Sometimes, you need a softer touch. You'll likely come in handy to him when it comes to that, same way I do.” 

“Cheers.”

“We’re in the AO,” the pilot’s voice crackled over their headsets, “Lights out.” 

With a nod, she gives him a pat on the shoulder. “Game face on now, Sergeant. Price’ll give us a proper bollocking if he thinks we’re having too much fun on the flight in.”

“Let’s nail this bastard.” A rapid descent of three helicopters filled the air with the thunderous hum of rotors and blades slicing through the night, attacking raptors in formation swooping in low. 

Off like a shot the moment feet hit the ground, night vision on, traveling in the darkened haze awash with a spectrum of green, a horde of soldiers headed straight for the main building where the targets were meant to be held. Kicking in doors, stomping boots entered the premises and began to clear the structure room by room, careful as they climbed each narrow set of stairs. Threats hid behind closed doors and around corners, firing freely, while other rooms held women and children, innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire. Guilt by association, but not out for blood – the very real reminder that Al-Qatala preyed on those who had something to lose or had already lost it in the ongoing conflicts that affected Urzikstan. 

In a blitz of bullets and bodies, the bounty on the Wolf’s head went unclaimed. A dry hole.

Rory sighed as the radio chatter came through from Garrick upstairs, her gun pointed at a woman’s back. Shifting the rifle in her hands, she bit her lip, waiting for the ‘all clear’ and the lights to come on once more. The unknowns would be collected and questioned, and that’s when the kind face of the ‘Lamb’ amongst the war dogs would be brought out.

In a small room on the first floor of the building, women and children were led to be held in one area, controlled by and kept under the watchful eye of the invading force. 

The huddled masses stared up at Rory as she entered the room under the guard of another soldier and her gut twisted. A dozen sets of eyes seemed to track her every step forward and her heart started to pump faster, squeezing from behind her ribcage like being crushed by a fist. She swallowed the stress response down as the tremors started to wriggle through her fingers and along the joints of her knuckles. Fucking hell. The sight of people penned together was enough to bring back the awful memories that lived in the back of her head – mothers cradling their crying children in their arms, innocence turned into a weapon. 

Her eyes fluttered shut for just a moment as she breathed through the sudden anxious twitches that traveled up her spine. Mothers and children… the way they had looked at her like some sort of hero back then, at least these ones saw her for what she was. There was no liberation involved here. 

“What’s happening?” A strained voice cried out as she wrapped her body around a young boy quivering in her arms, a frightened bird desperate to escape.

Rory’s eyes lifted, dragged back into the present. Conversing in Arabic like it was her first language. “I apologize for the intrusion into your home, for the shock and the noise.” She dreaded the next choice of words to come out of her mouth. “I’m sorry for your losses.” She meant it, she truly did. Taking the lives of fathers and husbands never sat easy on her shoulders, even if they were terrorists. It was a burden she had learned to bear. What made the job harder was witnessing the personal cost left to face the repercussions of retaliation. 

“We’re looking for the Wolf.”

The eyes of the women fell. It was clear their loyalty never stood with the leader, they were there for the men Rory and her allies had just ripped holes through with their weapons, the blood of those that stained the floor, enemy combatants. 

“Do you plan to kill him?” 

Rory nodded her head solemnly. “I promise no harm will come to any of you or your children. We only ask for any assistance you can provide us in tracking him down.” She held her hands up to show that she was unarmed and reached into her vest, pulling out a chocolate bar from inside one of the pockets. It wasn’t much as far as an olive branch, but a little sugar as a pick me up could mend a child’s fear somewhat at the very least, though it would never remove the memory. Unwrapping it, she passed it to the children to portion amongst themselves. “Where is he?” The women shared looks amongst each other, deciding as a group if they could trust this outsider who had just helped storm the compound they called home. “The quicker you can tell me, the quicker we’ll leave. We won’t obstruct you any further. We just want Omar Sulaman.”

Another woman with two children tucked under her arms, quieted by the chocolate they chewed on, finally muttered, “Teahouse. Underground. There are tunnels.”

“Teahouse,” Rory echoed. “Thank you.”

Leaving the room, she headed out into the hallway, watching as soldiers marched between rooms collecting intel and records, tossing duffel bags filled to the brim with it out from the adjoining rooms. “Managed to get somethin’ from ‘em?” Price asked, his rumbling voice carrying towards her as he marched down the hall with Garrick at his back. 

The steady, sturdy thumps of heavy boots and gear bearing down on old wood floors reverberated towards her, pulling her out from the lingering dark thoughts that started to swirl inside her head like ink, thick and obscuring. Her hand tightened into a fist, hiding the trembling of fingers as she rubbed at the lines between her brows and nodded. “Yeah. Teahouse. There’s an underground network of tunnels.”

Price pressed his hand to her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as he lowered his voice, “Alright?” His probing stare far too observant not to notice the tremor that shook through her. 

“Yes, Captain,” she stated with nonchalance, covering for the crack in the foundation. “Nothing a fag won’t fix.” A quick, forced smile graced her features, maintaining the image of a CO and a sergeant. 

His brows knit together for the briefest of moments, nearly imperceptible, easily brushed off as nothing more than a twitch. He knew she was lying, she could see it on his face. Slipping his hand from her, he gave her upper arm a short pat, and her jaw clenched in response. 

“Right, I want you to stay here. Focus on the intel,” Price ordered, “Garrick, teahouse, on me.” Giving her the way out, keeping her safe – it had always been John’s way, he couldn’t help himself from day one when it came to her. She had learned to forgive him for that, even when it made her feel bloody useless. In this case, she knew it was the right thing to do, burying her head in information and data retrieval, words and numbers, rather than violence and triggers. She watched them head out with a glance from over her shoulder. Stretching out the muscles in her back and neck, raised hackles finally being given their chance to calm, focused on the things within her control. 

Grabbing an empty bag, she made her way down the hall into a room not yet scoured and started going through drawers and cabinets looking for intel. Enough concentration and slow, focused breaths later and she found the shaking in her hand started to subside. Distance and time between the trauma had allowed her to learn to cope with it better than she had previously. It was short lived however, as moments later the ground shook and the boom of an explosion immediately stole her attention. 

Rory’s hand flew to the radio on her vest, pressing the PTT button. “Bravo 0-6, do you read? Come in.”

Chest constricting, sweat glistened on her brow, her heart racing until he finally answered. “Vest in the tunnels. Farah and Alex are cut off, no injuries.” Sighing a breath of relief, she returned the call. “Copy.”

“Garrick and I are looking for the nearest exit point. Out.”

Her heart rate slowed hearing his voice, a relative sense of calm filling her once more. She was on edge, nerves frazzled, signs of stress were catching up to her. “Come on Rory, not right now. Not like this,” she muttered under her breath. 

For two and a half years she’d been living like this, waiting for the when and the if of her next trigger. She rubbed her hands down her face, mimicking the motions of washing the frustration away before returning to the task at hand.

The site in the Arqus Mountains became more like an ant colony in the summer heat once Alex and Farah climbed free from the tunnels. Figures dressed in black tac scurrying to collect intel below, and dragging out the dead monarch. The Wolf had been killed by a single shot to the head by Keller. A threat deposed, only to be replaced with another, and so the cycle continued. 

Rory stood off to the side watching the corpse get carried out, slipped into a body bag and zipped up tight. It was an end to one story, but it was no final conclusion, there never really seemed to be one of those in this war. There would always be new soldiers, new martyrs, another reason for people to pledge allegiance. 

She rolled her lighter in between her hands, focusing on the cool metal against her skin, the smooth texture of it, and the way it slowly warmed from her body heat as she looked up at the night sky in shades of indigo and navy, speckled by the twinkling lights of stars.

Finishing his follow up with the rest of Bravo team, Price walked over, unstrapping his helmet and removing it from his head. Brushing a gloved hand through his hair matted with sweat as he stood beside her. “You alright?” His husked whisper letting her know this was John now and not the Captain speaking. 

Staying quiet, she nodded her head but said nothing more. He worked his jaw, pursing his mouth. “Flashbacks?”

She sighed, then hummed in agreement. “For the rest of my life.” Her hands stilled, the lighter slipped back into the pocket of her vest. “But, at least Sulaman’s dealt with.”

“Now it’s just Hadir and the gas.”

Out there in the expanse of desert, above any of the small villages below in the mountain’s crags, the sky seemed to be limitless. Stars she never saw back home, galaxies on show, spread out unswallowed by the haze of light. 

“If it’s not one thing, it’s another.” Nudging him with her elbow, Rory continued to wear her brave face. “Go on, sir. I’ll be okay.” “Sir?” His brows raised, etching lines into his forehead as he stared down at her, lowering his head to press his chin to his chest. 

A quiet chuckle bubbled up from her. “We’re still at work.”

“When we’re back to base and there’s downtime, we’ll talk about it, yeah?” His eyes not set on her, instead gazing out into the distance over her head, focused on the other bodies that meandered around the site, keeping the secret he had with her safe.

Rory couldn’t help but roll her eyes. He cared too much about her sometimes, making it his personal mission to see her through her troubles. “You mustn’t be so preoccupied with me,” she said, giving him a sideways glance. “You have a mission to lead and I can take care of myself.”

His hand sought hers out, far enough away from everyone else, no one could see how his grip encompassed her hand in his perfectly, their fingers intertwined. “I’ll choose where my attention goes and when I see fit,” he gruffed. “You gonna promise to get some sleep?”

Her head cocked to the side, debating the option. “We’ll see. If not, suppose we can share an elongated smoke break together.”

A half grin started to curl at the corner of his mouth, a dimple in his cheek just visible under the scruff. “Look forward to it,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze. 

October 30, 2019 7:09 - US Army base, Urzikstan

There would be no rest for the weary however, only more bureaucratic bullshit. 

The Wolf’s body had barely been put on ice before those at the top thought they understood the food chain better than the boots on the ground. Hadir was a confirmed terrorist – by his sister, Russia, and the nation he had once been an asset to. Party and family lines were blurred and crossed, loyalties questioned. Arriving back at base only to discover that the ULF had been branded a terrorist organization by the very nation that had allied with them against AQ. “They’re our allies,” Keller debated, aghast with the system he was a part of. 

The tiring charade of being told who was their friend and who was their enemy weighed heavy on everyone in the room. The tension within was as tight as razor wire, one quick pluck and it could slice clean through everything. Despite all their hard work dealing with the Wolf, it was all for naught. Urzikstan’s chance for hope had been deemed equal to the force Farah had been fighting against for years. 

“Yeah. Not anymore.” The smug face of Norris clearly enjoying the power trip he was swaddled in made Rory want to snap, barely able to hold onto the leash of the snarling dog that was the Captain at her side.  “You keep your muppets on a short string, Colonel.” Price, as always, was quick to threaten when the safety of one of his own was in danger. The natural inclination to protect, to stare down the bully was something innate in him. It never mattered if the individual was a violent criminal or a superior officer, he was never one to stand down.

“Or what?” Norris sneered. 

“Or I’ll fuckin’ hang you from it,” Price snarled, pushing forward to get into the American’s face only to have a hand snap around his wrist to hold him back. 

The sniper’s quick reflexes caught him in time, keeping him steady. “John,” Rory’s growled whisper reminding him to heel. He glanced back at her for just a moment with a furrowed brow to meet her own, his jaw clenched tight before turning back to the Colonel, giving him a terse nod of his head to direct the man out of the tent. 

“Kate, these people need our support.” “Surely there’s been some major oversight here, Kate. This is bloody ridiculous,” Rory added. 

“There’s nothing else we can do.”

“We’re really turning our backs on a whole host of people? This is –” 

Her thoughts were cut short by the heavy hand that came to rest on her shoulder, squeezing at the muscle, the scent of cigar smoke clinging to it. “Leave it be,” Price’s voice rumbled in her ear as he herded her back into line, keeping her from speaking out of turn. The debate might have been over, lost without ever knowing the fight was going to happen in the first place, but she also knew well enough that John would never let something like this happen without a backup plan, a way to resolve the situation even if it wasn’t through proper channels. 

His hand moved to squeeze the back of her neck, the same way he had all those years ago in the safehouse. Words not needing to be spoken between them. Trust. Rory sighed, closing her eyes as she heard the final verdict come from Alex. He was leaving, turning his back on everything he knew with honor to join Farah and her forces. She had been right about him from the start, he really was one of the last good ones. Better than her or any of the others who still followed the line and the letter.

With Alex and Farah gone, having to remove themselves from the base considering they were deemed a traitor and a terrorist leader, morale was at an all time low. 

Garrick sat at one of the benches in the smoking section, kicking at the dirt as he lit his cigarette, boot dragging through the sand. He barely lifted his head as Rory took a seat beside him, finally getting to partake in her much needed shot of nicotine after hours fueled with stress. Silence hung between them. There was nothing to be said. Both of them felt let down by the system they were a part of.  

“I don’t know why I thought things would be any different. It never is. Bloody red tape and fucking hoops to jump through, and for what? Never solves anything.”

She nodded her head, the flame of her lighter burning the end of her cigarette as it bounced between her lips. “Law and order – not much use for it when only those being controlled actually follow it. It’s one thing my father and I always disagree on. He still believes in blind justice, innocent until proven guilty.” She took another drag before blowing out a long stream of smoke. “He’s a barrister after all, so I suppose it’s only right that he thinks that way. But, out here? Not much place for it. All too often civility simply… gets in the way. Out here, it’s the rules of the jungle, and most are far too willing to throw others under the bus to rise to the top.”

Kyle’s hands slid up and down his thighs, the cigarette drooping from the corner of his mouth before he snatched it away to talk. “I joined this mission ‘cause I didn’t want to be tied down to all the rules, but it's not any bloody better. Same bullshit, different people in charge.”

Rory scoffed. “You’ll soon learn all that passion tends to do little to stoke the coals of the superiors. More often than not, they’re in it for the easy win, not what’s proper in the long run. That’s why things go off the books sometimes. Try not to let it break you too much.” She sighed, tapping the ashes off her cigarette onto the ground between her boots before taking another drag from her cigarette. “If I know John – and I do –  it won’t be too much longer before he gets tired of sitting on his hands either. Meanwhile, you and I are left to stew on what that means for us.” “Care to make a prediction?”

“Russia. Barkov. Hadir has an axe to grind. Urzikstan’s history for the last twenty years has been rampant with bloodshed. Genocide. The treatment the people have lived under – It’s fucking horrific, and the world barely talks about it. It stopped being interesting to the masses three years in.” She shook her head, huffing out a sigh. “The Russians had men, women and children locked up in prisons, and the rest of the world?” She shrugged, the cigarette slipped between her lips, mumbling around it. “Simply forgot. So yeah, Hadir has every right to be angry, except he’s gone and made a piss poor decision that benefits no one.” Inhaling the smoke, she tilted her head back and blew the stream upwards before tossing her half burned cigarette on the ground and crushing it with her boot to put it out. “Anyway.” She patted her thighs and stood up. “Enjoy the fag, I’m going to go clean my gun. A girl’s only as good as her weapons after all.” She gave Kyle a friendly salute before heading towards her tent, planning to field strip her weapons. Inside the safety of the sturdy canvas structure, standing at a table, Rory began the process of sliding apart each section of her gun and wiping them down, cleaning it of debris and oiling where necessary. It was relaxing, calming, a process she knew forwards and backwards. A sense of peace in making sure her weapons were at their best, doing everything on her part to make sure they’d never fail. Headphones in, “Cities in Dust” by Siouxsie and the Banshees played in her ears as her foot tapped out the rhythm in time with the music, her hands deft with practiced movements. Boots crunched through the sand behind her, circling the table. Her eyes lifted to meet blue ones looking back at her. Pulling the headphones out, Rory draped the wire around the back of her neck. 

“Alright?”

Price offered no real answer. His jaw held stiff, face stern. “Get packed.”

“Where’re we headed?”

“Russia. Kate’s getting us in. After that, it’s up to us. Going in off the books. Black.” Rory sighed, running a cloth along the barrel of her rifle. “I figured as much. Don’t make things half easy for me, do you?”

“When ‘ave you ever done that f’me?” A grin curled at his lips, the gruff exterior breaking for just a moment, only to return twice as hardy.

“So we fuck off to Russia and leave Farah and Alex utterly buggered out here and seen as the enemy?” Rory placed the parts of her gun down on the table, resting her hands on the edge, gripping it tight with frustration. “Christ almighty, John.”

“It’s not perfect, but we’re fixin’ things, yeah? Hadir’s got a lot t’answer for. And if he's thinking’ he's gettin’ away with a revenge plot, he's got another thing comin’. I'd rather it was us that reminded him of that, not Barkov.”

She nodded. “And I assume since we'll be in the motherland, Nik'll be joining us?”

Nikolai was a bit of a suspect individual, but Price trusted him. He was loyal, at the very least, even if his contacts were shady.

He responded with a curt nod.

A smirk spread across her lips at the news. “Always enjoy seeing a friendly face.”

“You've got an hour. Going in wearing civvies.” He patted the tabletop with his hand before leaving her to finish her duties and gear up.

“Yes, sir.”

[sehtoast]

What Happens on the Couch, Stains the Couch (Depowered Homelander x OC) All of You is Left to Love Ch6

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6

18+

1.8k

Warnings: Just a snuggly handjob with no plot

OC: Benjamin Colyer (The Boys-verse Spider-Man)

It must have been hours ago that John reclined back against Benny’s chest, the pair of them laying length-wise on the couch to watch one of his favorite western films.

Things were calm– a true rarity, these days.  Benjamin was afforded a day off.  No events, no speeches, no paperwork.  Admittedly, he’d even ignored a siren or two… 

All he was concerned with, for the whole day, was spending time with John.

And what better way for the former supe to spend his day than wrapped up in the embrace of his lover, head lulled to the side, lips moving with each line of a movie he’d long since memorized.  

He’d found, with his ability to hear it outright stripped away, that he enjoyed positions where his head rested against Ben’s chest– where he could hear his little spider’s heart thrum.  Once upon a time, he could gauge Benny’s mood freely with his superhuman hearing– all just by listening to that muscle pound away inside of his chest.

A melody of comfort.  

Of peace.

His thumb absently traced along Ben’s forearm, his other hand linked at the fingers with his love’s.  The rise and fall of his little spider’s chest eased him into tranquility.

John’s own silent mimicry was suddenly interrupted.

“They’re gonna get what the law says is coming to ‘em.” Ben gritted in his best Eastwood impression, breaking into a breathy giggle.

Homelander chuckled, shaking his head at the poor impression.

“Oh, please,” Ben gave him a soft squeeze, nuzzling into his shaggy hair.  “I’ve gotten better, and you know it.”

“God… To think they greenlit you for movies…” Homelander turned, planting a kiss on Ben’s cheek before leaning back against him.  “Well… At least you didn’t have to audition.  They’d have cast someone else.”

“Hey!” Ben howled, his head tossed back against the pillows in a laugh.  “Ouch, Johnny!  My pride.”

Both of them adored these teasing moments.  Good natured jabs betrayed entirely by the soft, intimate touches they shared during.  After a few more back and forth comments, the pair returned their attention to the screen.  Ben, however, ended up with a sentimental realization.

This was the movie that had been playing in the background the first night they’d ever made love.

Such a silly little thing, and certainly not a mood setter of a film by any means, but…

Memories of that night flashed in Ben’s mind, and his hands began to roam.  Small touches at first, a glide of his right hand to John’s chest, his left playing with his lover’s fingers.  He rubbed circles over the space just above Johnny’s heart, slow and soft.

He pressed a kiss to the side of Homelander’s hair.

John leaned his head into the contact, sighing as the hand at his chest both relaxed and enticed him.  One of the changes with the loss of his powers had been sensitivity.  Touches tingled, and breaths against his skin made the hairs on the back of his neck stand more than ever.  Shivering, shuddering against the ministrations of his little spider.

Homelander’s breath hitched as Ben’s hands laid claim to his body, a shiver running down his spine as lips pressed to the sensitive spot on his neck.  A breathy whine escaped his lips.

“B-Benny–” he stuttered, craning his neck to the side to give his partner better access.

“Let me take care of you, honey…” The web-head whispered against his skin.  “Lean back, relax…”

John’s eyes fluttered shut with ease, the trust he held for his partner making the act a simple one.  His breaths became heavier as more and more kisses were pressed to his neck and hands roamed his upper body aimlessly– until they moved with purpose.  Inch by inch, his t-shirt was worked up above his chest, and Ben’s thumbs found his nipples.

A groan reverberated deep within John’s chest, his back arching in response to the tingles of sensation running straight to his cock– wanting more.

Craving more…

His hands gripped at the fabric of Ben’s pants, anchoring himself when those lips began to suck at his neck– surely leaving a mark that he would stare at for hours in the mirror by the next morning.

“F-Fuck…”

Ben’s fingernails grazed through the hair on his chest for a moment before dragging down the trail leading under the waistband of his shorts.  He traced soft patterns over John’s belly, dancing overtop of ticklish spots that left the former supe gasping, whispering pleas for more, his body rigid with anticipation.

His little spider’s lips pulled away from him, moving up to his ear.

“Shh…” he cooed.  “Relax, baby.  I’ve got you…”

John’s eyes opened for a fraction of a second, just in time to see the sight of himself tented in his shorts and his lover’s hand’s finally– fuck, finally pushing them down.  He keened as the air met his shaft, and he helped kick his shorts down to his ankles.

Benjamin’s fingertips trailed slowly to the base of him before taking him in a firm grip.

John’s whole body burned with desire, the sensations of his lover’s hand alone coursing through his veins like fire. 

“O-Oh!” he gasped, followed by a guttural moan.  Within minutes, he’d surrendered completely, mind and body both at the mercy of Ben’s loving touch.  Each stroke built an intense ache in his core.  He leaned into every caress from Benny’s hands, relishing the power his love held over him– the control.  The beauty of being able to relinquish it and trust that it’d be used for him, not against.

“Benny!” He rasped breathlessly.  “N-Need you!”

“And you’ll have me,” Ben murmured against the shell of his ear, stroking up and down the length of John’s cock tantalizingly slowly.  “But, first, we’ll take care of you…”

Ben’s thumb circled the head of Homelander’s cock, spreading his precum all over the reddened tip before dragging back down, his own eyes locked on the hypnotic sight of John’s foreskin moving in time with the strokes.

John writhed, his hips rising to seek more, but Ben’s other arm wrapped around his waist, holding him still.

“Slow, baby… Slow…”

Benny’s guiding words and his delicious touch drove John to the edge of madness.  He yearned for release, burned for that coil of pleasure to finally burst.  Each stroke, each brush of Ben’s fingers only pushed him further toward that peak.

He grit his teeth, his head falling back against his lover as Benny’s thumb continued its intoxicating touches around the head of his cock.  The sensation agonizing yet pleasing all at once, clouding his mind with desperation.

His hips bucked senselessly against Ben’s grip, trying with all of his might to fuck into his little spider’s hand.  But Benny held firm, restraining him from simply rushing into that sweet release.  A growl rumbled within his chest, desperate frustration and lust swirling together.

With every ounce of control he possessed, John forced himself to relax into Benny’s hold, the arch of his back straightening to lay flush against him.  He surrendered wholly to the delicious agony inflicted upon him– trusting that Benny knew best.

There was something about surrendering to Ben like this, now, that left John even more worked up than his lover’s control ever made him in the past.  He was truly at the mercy of anything Ben wanted from him– wanted to do to him.  With anyone else, he might actually be afraid– but with Benny?  

Every atom in his body buzzed with excitement at the mere thought.

“Take c-care of me,” John managed to pant through his gritted teeth.

Ben’s restraining arm came up to direct John into a kiss– sloppy and needy as he continued to pump his shaft slowly.

“G’boy,” he praised as they moved apart, a string of saliva connecting them.  His free hand crawled up into Homelander’s overgrown hair, taking a tender handful as he gazed into his lover’s lust-clouded eyes.  “Mmm,” the web-head hummed.  “God, I’m already so fucking wet… But I want you to finish first.  I wanna see you feeling so good…  If you only knew what taking you apart like this does to me…”

He met Benny’s eyes, and suddenly his legs were squirming again.  He was close…

“That’s it, Johnny.” Ben murmured sweetly. “Come apart for me…  Tell me how much you love it.”

John’s breath hitched, his body quivering with the lightning bolts of pleasure coursing through him.  Ben’s words, delivered in that sweet voice laced with dominance and love, had shivers running down his spine.

“L-Love it– love y-you, ah! So much,” John keened, unable to stop the way his body moved now.  “Love how you t-touch me… make me f-feel…”

As he spoke, Homelander’s legs widened, baring himself entirely– physically displaying the truth behind his words of reverence and love. 

No ego, no pretense.

Just… himself.

Ben’s hand left him suddenly– and his lover spat in it before returning to him, stroking faster, harder.

“Oh, shi– Fuck!” John shouted at the increased sensation– so wildly different from the slow pace from before.  “I– Ah!  Hnngh~ D-Don’t sto– fuck, fuck, Benny I–”

John’s hips bucked wildly into Ben’s fist, fucking his partner’s hand as his cock spurt thick ropes of cum– most of it landing on him, the rest on the couch.  He moaned heavily, panting hard breaths as his whole body convulsed with pure, unbridled pleasure, only one word rolling off his tongue with any sense of coherence.  

”Benny… B-Benny… Ben, ah…” he chanted, his little spider’s name like a prayer to the heavens.

Ben stroked him through the waves, kissed his face all over as he worked through his release.

“There you go…” he whispered.  “Feel it, Johnny.”

His words pulled a wavering moan from Homelander’s lips, which he promptly swallowed in a deep, passionate kiss, tonguing into his lover’s mouth to consume every part of him he possibly could.

John’s body twitched as he settled, nice and limp as he laid against Ben.  In their intimate tangle, Homelander found release, safety, happiness, contentment…  

“Sorry ‘bout the couch…” he mumbled weakly.  

Ben raised a brow at him for a second, before looking down to one of the now set stains.  He scoffed a laugh. 

“Oh, please.  One stain?  Rookie numbers!” Ben teased him.  “We’ve done worse.”

John huffed a laugh of his own, looking down to where Ben still held his softening cock.

“Good thing we’re not finished yet,” he said with a lick of his lips before pulling Benny into another kiss, turning to straddle his little spider and shoving a hand down his pants, his fingers gliding through the wetness to sink inside.

“When are we ever?”

[sarahwriterx]

Conterlot High School Kids🏫 🔪

Chapter 1

“You’ll never learn about friendship.”

Have you ever had any strong power? No, I don’t talk about great magic or superhero power! The power of other’s respect, they scared of you and nobody dares to looks at your eyes, I mean.

Yep.

I was something like that. I was the favorite for boys, unrivaled princess in “Conterlot” high school and I was ruling this high school (two lower class guys named Snails and Snips helped me too) and NOBODY couldn’t stop me.

But it didn’t take long… and I stole Twilight Sparkle crown, she came to this world and made everyone happy and in peace; with her blah blah friendship stuff. I couldn’t get her crown’s magic and she defeated me; With magic of friendship stupid rainbow! Have you ever seen someone beaten just with rainbow???

Well, I was.

“See? She’s a monster. She made us enemies to ruling us! Bluh bluh!!! “Twilight said, then she left our world. 

And no one is afraid of me anymore. No one listen to me anymore. I no longer ruled the school ANYMORE. I became alone, no one looked at me.

I was crying in school’s storeroom and I just had snips and snails who had a stupid mind.

Sometimes, I thought I’m worthless.

Rrrrrrrrring!

It was lunch time. I woke up, I slept all over the class of course. My mouth was made my notebook wet.

“wow looked at her! She’s disgusting!” Rarity started to put a makeup on her face.

I didn’t care to everyone laughing. I put my things in the bag and I left. I looked at my reflection on hallway’s mirror, a poor girl with messy red and yellow hair, and a dark under my eye circle… they must be mocking me, it wasn’t me…

“Sunset shimmer!” I saw silly lower class guys that were calling me.

“what is happened?” I grumbled.

“Don't have an order yet?” Snips was sad.

“no. I told you, no more evil plan, no more ruining their stupid friendship and nothing! And you two are not my servant either!” I said.

“Noooo! NOT THAT ONE!” Snails started to crying.

I stared at them with a dead face.

“Don't you want revenge??” Snips said.

“What revenge. have you ever think how?” I replied.

“we don’t think usually!” Snips answered.

“Ah!!! Get out of my way!” I pulled them back.

I walked toward a lonely hallway, I wanted a free breath. But suddenly, I hit someone and fell on ground.

“oh, sorry young lady!”

I looked at him. He was tall like a tower, thin like wicker and with green coat and tie that makes him a gentleman, and he wore a top hat.

“please, stand up!” he bowed on me.

I stood up with a frown.

“I hope not bothered you too much. Goodbye!” He politely said with another bow and He continued on his way.

“What does such a person like this do, in a high school?” I grinned.

“what a great curiosity. I hope we’ll meet again…” he grinned back to me and disappeared.

Snips and Snails ran to me.

“Do you saw him too?” I frowned.

“We are waiting for your order!!!” They shouted obediently.

“now I have a plan. Give me a cellphone!” I smiled.

══════════════════

Cellphone’s ringing noises echoed in old park forest.

He was lay down on his Van’s back sit.

“It’s Discord house!” He picked up.

“hey Discord, it’s me! Sunset Shimmer!”

“Oh Hi, It's been a long time that we don’t have conversation. Before Twilight Sparkle rising, I think. So what? Do you still want to make trouble?” He laughed silly.

“Well, I…-“

“I’m an alone old man. You didn't even help me once!” He grinned.

“ I helped you to find a job in school! No need to remind me that I’m a bad guy!!! So shut up!” I shouted.

“yeah yeah… you helped me to sell my chocolate milk to your cafeteria, although that damn Apple jack have good juice… whatever…”

“whaaaaat do you waaaaaant?” Discord said.

Ah. He was a silly old man, but he knews how to teared my nerve.

“Listen! I saw a guy with top hat today! In school! Did principal Celestia told you something recently? About party, festival or something?”

“I don’t think so… my dear Celestia ignoring me and… I’d better pick off. I heard something… like someone got killed near here. ” He spoke slowly.

“What? Where are you, Discord?”

He turned on his Van without pick off, I could hear his crash and then, nothing heard from line.

[synthcryptid]

one of our bigger pet peeves: "shi/hir pronouns are intersex exclusive!"

they are not. not only are the commonly-stated claims of "it was coined by intersex people" outright false (and any attempts to back these claims usually just link to old tumblr posts from known bad-faith users), but this completely ignores that these pronouns date back to the usenet days, and directly originate from sie/hir, a set of pronouns that we frequently see people propose as an alternative to shi/hir.

sie/hir pronouns in particular are quite notable, as their use was semi-common as an all-gender-encompassing set of pronouns on usenet prior to september 1993 (that date carrying significance due to being when usenet hit the mainstream as a result of internet providers opting to offer free usenet access). sie/hir pronouns also have a bit of historic basis prior to usenet, with the sacramento bee having coined it in the 1920's as a gender-neutral set of pronouns.

shi/hir pronouns were only regularly seen in one general circle of usenet: furry and furry-adjacent groups (such what drew a lot of furries to usenet to begin with, alt.fan.furry, or one of the first major otherkin communities, alt.fan.dragons). prior to the creation of alt.fan.furry, "shi" pronouns were generally only used accidentally, as an attempt to extrapolate "hir" to a nominative form (with the logic usually being "well, 'hir' sounds a lot like 'her', so that probably means the equivalent of 'she' is 'shi'"). given the general rarity of nominative use of gender-neutral pronouns, it was incredibly common for users to simply not know what the nominative form of "hir" was supposed to be. and thus, quite a few openly non-binary users ended up identifying with shi/hir as their preferred pronouns (all the way back in the 1990's, mind you!). and since the population of alt.fan.furry and adjacent groups were largely users new to usenet as a whole, shi/hir ended up taking off as the nonbinary pronoun set within the furry community.

so the thing about the early furry community is that the demographics of the nonbinary population at the time were, by and large, bigender (by today's definitions, at least). however, "bigender" simply wasn't a term in the community's collective vocabulary at the time, and thus self-identifying users usually opted to self-identify as hermaphrodites. however, the point of confusion stems from communities outside of alt.fan.furry, in which it was common for the concept of a bigender person to instead be labelled intersex regardless of whether or not they actually are intersex, with the term being falsely believed to be politically correct. it was quite common for self-identifying herms to (rightfully) take offense to being called intersex, and for intersex users to (also rightfully) be vocal that hermaphroditism and intersex are separate concepts. but as the eternal september began, and the number of users who were neither intersex nor hermaphrodites skyrocketed, the voices of both demographics were quickly drowned out outside of the most obscure groups. this ended up extending past usenet, with sites like furaffinity ending up opting for "intersex" as the primary way to describe the concept of bigender, and both intersex folks and self-identifying herms being met with immediate hostility for merely suggesting that these terms describe completely different concepts. however, despite "herm" being pushed out of the community's vocabulary, shi/hir remained, and ended up staying the primary way to describe """intersex""" characters in the furry community well into the late 2010's, even as self-identifying herms and actual intersex folks were pushed into the shadows of the furry community. it wasn't until nonbinary identities started experiencing a resurgence that shi/hir pronouns began dropping in use.

given that usenet rarely shows up in searches (search engines deliberately deprioritize results marked with old dates), and google's usenet archive's search feature is barely functional (searching in a group won't show you results before 2000, and searching all groups disables most advanced search features), it's much easier said than done to actually find these discussions and discourse in any way other than sitting down and trawling the archive yourself, thread by thread. it also doesn't help at all that linking tends to be incredibly unreliable, with google groups being quite unreliable at showing posts if you didn't navigate to a thread naturally (this is especially egregious with searches; it's quite common to end up clicking a search result only to not find the post that put the thread in the results). as such, this has lead to the wider public being genuinely unaware of any part of the LGBTQIA+ community's and furry community's history on usenet, as a result of usenet's sheer obscurity, and the only actual archive being immensely headache-inducing to browse. this has made it incredibly easy for bad-faith actors to simply ignore usenet's existence, allowing for ahistoric claims like "shi/hir pronouns are intersex exclusive" and "shi/hir was coined by intersex people" to end up spreading way beyond what's reasonable, as most folks genuinely don't know that the story of those pronouns starts decades before furaffinity (which quite a few folks cite as the pronoun set's origins) even existed.

the main takeaway of this monolith of text? if someone is exhibiting cop behavior when it comes to other people's identities, please be skeptical of that, as it's quite common for identity-policing to rely heavily on ignoring history, deliberately or not, as shi/hir pronouns are an excellent example of

[itsuki-minamy]

"SIDE GOLD"

CHAPTER 3: OOTONO BENJI (PART 4)

* List of Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Anno

"Kirinoichi" is found, as the name suggests, in the night mist. He could dimly see the stalls with straw mats spread out on the floor, a rarity these days, and people milling around them under the bare hanging light bulbs. The voices that came and went swayed, disconcerting the visitors with an ambiguous sense of distance, as near or far.

In such a city, in a plaza that could be the inner part or the edge, the "Kagirohigumi" and the "Fourth Legal Affairs Office" divided into several groups, surrounding a pot placed on a charcoal brazier. Everyone was dipping their chopsticks into the town's self-proclaimed specialty, "Nan-yara-nabe" (short for "What's on it?"), to replenish their mental and physical fatigue with nabe.

Ootono was in one of these relaxation circles.

Or rather, they were mixed.

The attitude of the people surrounding the pot was completely transparent.

"I became the "King" right after the defeat, when I finished taking care of the remaining business of the General Staff Headquarters. When I was having breakfast, I said to Chika-san who was sitting across from me: "As promised. I survived the war. Let's get married."

Not to mention Nazumi, who talks bluntly as if he's giving a sermon.

"What are you talking about, stupid?"

Unno with a face of chewing bitter bugs that were not in the ingredients of the pot.

"So, did you get it!?"

"Yes, because I promised. It was the best condition for us to survive."

Suwako, who lashed out at the conversation, and Chika, who responded calmly.

"If you don't want to fight, you might eat as well."

"......"

Okuma, who calmly handed over the bowl, paid no attention to the appearance of Ootono, who was covered in bandages. Only Colt received the bowl as it was given to him, it may because he was so depressed that he couldn't even afford to do like as everybody...

(After seeing such a monster, maybe I'm not a big deal.)

Even he looked down on himself, they were all so natural.

Nazumi continued.

"Yes, that kind of consent..."

"It was always exactly the same "yes"."

Chika's correction followed.

"The moment I got permission, I came into contact with that "Slate"."

Unno vomited in a bad mood.

"So what are you talking about? You want me to call you a lucky bastard?"

He looked at Ootono as if he was asking for his consent.

Nazumi also ignored Unno.

"The good is the good... I think that the "explosion of desire to build a new time" that I sustained caused the "Slate" to react. It is also said that the other "Kings" are the reason for his mental image."

He looked at Ootono as if asking for an answer.

Ootono himself did not react to any of them. Or rather, he didn't know how to react and remained silent. Originally, he had no intention of being this close to them, nor did he intend to have a complicated conversation.

Right after he helped them to escape from that "nothing".

Before he knew it, he was able to use the mysterious mist, guiding the group to where "Kirinoichi" was, which he had established nearby.

He would hide them in that hiding place until he was sure the "nothing" that was crawling around was gone. But he had nothing else to do with it.

With that thought in mind, he sat with his back against the city gate post (it was just a wooden stake left in the vacant lot), playing the accordion with a casual look on his face.

"Oh, Ni-san. Thank you for letting our boys escape."

"You are the "King" of the Gray Sword. Nice to meet you."

Ootono, who did not want to reveal his true identity, was shocked, but his legs did not have the strength to immediately escape. All he could do was remain seated and replied with a confused manner.

"Oh, why do you know?"

"Well, somehow."

"That's because everyone is a "King"."

The group that was supposed to let them pass also stopped around the three of them, so he had no choice but to lead them. It was out of desperation that he decided to spend the time waiting around the hot pot together.

As the townspeople prepared the pot, he received an explanation from Nazumi, and learned that he was apparently the "Grey King" Benji Ootono.

However, the impression...

(It's also quite pretentious.)

That's what it meant.

Regardless of the facts, Ootono thought that his capacity (what he could do, what he wanted to do, what he could hold, and what he wanted to retain) was "very small."

Even if he knew it was just a title, it was terrifying. He couldn't even think it was a joke to stand shoulder to shoulder with youngsters who could boast of themselves as "Kings", let alone fight against anything.

For him, the mist was not a weapon of war. All he needed was a modest fence to protect the people who connected their days here in "Kirinoichi".

The young people treated Ootono as something normal.

"What about that "mental image"? It's a story that neither I nor this Ni-san knew about."

"That's not enough, so I'm going to explain. I hope you don't break the story."

He rushed into the refereeing of the gaze.

"Ok, ok, you two."

It wasn't his style at all.

After thinking about it, Ootono rethought:

(Is that so?)

Suddenly, he remembered the old days when his voice and his body bounced, and he felt a pain in his chest.

Instead of a bitter smile, he asked with twitching cheeks.

"I have something to do with it too, you say?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't say it's irrelevant. That monster called "Black Cloak" is based on the same laws as us... it's one of the 'Kings' who was born according to some kind of mental image."

Hearing Nazumi's words, the movement of the chopsticks around the pot stopped for a moment.

Unno snorted and stuck his chopsticks into the pot, and the piece of carrot got caught.

"Eh, is that the same as me? What kind of joke is that?"

Nazumi dipped his chopsticks into the pot and found a piece of corned beef.

"You should also "somehow" understand that your power was absorbed. Judging by the passion in his voice, he also has a will. That... is someone..."

Okuma, who picked up a mochi-like object, and Suwako, who filled her mouth with potatoes, looked at the chief with a grim expression.

"A monster that eats people, is it a person?"

"It's scary that I couldn't put my fists through it."

"Don't worry, I'll beat you next time."

Groundlessly, but firmly, Unno promised.

Next to him, Colt was muttering to himself as he held a bowl that had piled up unnoticed (everyone was pushing stuff they didn't want to eat into the pot) in his hand.

"What we've dabbled in... how far away is the "King"... isn't it beyond human control?"

Chika, who bit into takuan, asked her husband with a sense of crisis.

"In other words, someone started targeting not only Hagure, but also the "King"... Do you have any plans to counter it?"

"No, nothing."

Nazumi reluctantly gave in to his wife, but it's not like there wasn't a plan.

"However, I believe that by exploring the mental image I mentioned earlier, we will be able to identify the characteristics of the "Black Cloak" monster and how to deal with it. So..."Grey King" Benji Ootono."

His gaze turned and he caught Ootono head on.

That force made Benji's big body cringe.

"What...?"

"You were able to lead our retreat. In other words, capture the movement of the "Black Cloak", right? If you don't mind, I'd like you to tell me the reason."

Nazumi took off his cap and bowed his head.

"What? After all you depend on Ni-san for that measures?"

Ootono gently accepted Unno's sarcasm.

"I don't care that much."

"Please."

Saying that, Nazumi took a calm listening stance.

Although he didn't want to follow his example, Unno's sheer interest silenced him.

Everyone's attention was focused on the circle of the pot.

Ootono flinched, his lips cramping as he prefaced.

"Because I'm like this... I can't speak fluently."

This time Chika bowed her head next to Nazumi.

"Take your time."

"......"

Even with such courtesy, Ootono began to speak.

"...This mist is like a part of me. It seems to be a convenient thing that I can sense the movement of the person who entered and confuse them."

Seeing is believing, the mist gathered on the bandaged palm, forming a ball of pure white.

In the air of astonishment, Nazumi analyzed the phenomenon.

"I see... So, the power of the "Grey King" is detection and disturbance?"

"Well, I wonder if that's what it is."

Nodding, Ootono literally scattered the ball in his hand.

"However, it must have been around autumn, on the edge of the mist... ''Musikui'' began to appear. It eats my mist as it passes, leaving holes in it."

"If it's like our "power", it'll eat anything..."

Unno remembered the feeling of being sucked in and clenched his fist.

Ootono nodded again.

"Every time I get bitten on the edge, I run away in a hurry, but... ''Musikui'' writhes all over Tokyo like a snake, so it's really scary to find it again and again."

Then he looked at the two young men.

"But tonight, I felt like a huge mass with great force was flowing into... I think it also felt the two of them collided."

"It tried swallowing us in a big chunk?"

"The first event, that happened today, was a clash between "Kings"...  the time when you woke up as a "King" but no sword appearance was seen, because that was nighttime?"

He slowly nodded three times.

"That's all I can say... Did I help you?"

Nazumi and Chika once again expressed their gratitude with a beautiful bow.

"More than enough information. Thank you for your cooperation."

"Thank you for taking the risk and helping us."

Ootono couldn't take it straight.

"Kindness, no."

He lowered his eyes as if he regretted it.

"What would happen to him if he ate a power as big as you two? I got scared, so I came to check on him. That's all."

Then, Unno spoke with a warm voice of goodwill.

"If that's all, don't bother saying "Come here, run away"."

"......!"

He raised Ootono's line of sight.

His eyes were a little more stern than his voice, but he was still smiling. If the other person hadn't been hurt, he could have hit their back.

Both Suwako and Okuma smiled, bowed their thick bodies, and thanked him.

"Well, actually, I was saved... Thank you."

"Don't forget your kindness."

Finally, after confirming the appearance of his subordinates, including "Ebisu no Kunizo", who seemed to be uncomfortable with other circles, Colt murmured something into his mouth.

Ootono, who couldn't stand the things that sprouted anymore, decided to separate.

"We are fine now... it seems to be gone."

"That's right, Gosso-san!"

"PAHN", making a sound and join his palms together, Unno stood up neatly without regretting any remnants.

Seeing that, the "Kagirohigumi" also left their seats.

In response, Chika said, "Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau.".

The Colt team also secretly tried not to stand out.

Finally, Nazumi stood up and handed over a business card.

"With your power, you should be able to deal with it, but if you have any problems, contact the "Fourth Legal Affairs Office" here. If you want, we can put you in public protection, along with the people who live here. Honestly, in a time when that is lurking, it is more dangerous to stay away."

Ootono received the business card, but did not stand up.

"Thank you."

While he was sitting, he slowly shook his head.

"But I... will protect these people who can only stay here."

No one denied the way of life of the "Grey King" there.

The mist melted in the morning sun.

They were released in an unknown open space.

As if waking up from a dream, or having passed through their throats, "Kagirohigumi" and the "Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau", who grasped the situation, immediately faced each other as if they were breathing. The "Red King" and the "Blue King" standing in front of each other also collided with each other's gazes.

But it did not lead to a confrontation.

It was a big problem for both sides to lose their tempers in the fog, but in this case, it was because there were people physically getting in the way between the two camps.

It was the Colt group sent from Nanakamado.

The tense tension lasted only a few seconds.

"Give up, don't."

"Ebisu no Kunizo" was the first to raise his voice and sit down.

Then the other people sat down one after another.

"I quit too."

"Oh, that's enough."

"Not worth it."

Some took off their characteristic coats before sitting down, others sat upright as if waiting for an intervention, and others went out into the open. All of them had lost their composure from the night before and have reverted to their original form, the bodyguards who run tricks on the outskirts of the city.

Among them, there was a person who was stunned.

The American who led them was Thomas Colt. The deep, wrinkled smile that still floated on his head gave him the impression that it was just that kind of shape, and he could tell at a glance that it was painful bravado.

Nazumi stepped away from the formation and stepped forward to speak.

"So, I'll take care of you here, ok?"

Colt was facing the day after tomorrow.

"Go ahead, as you wish. The losses due to the inability to counter the "King's" strength are within the assumptions of the plan. Nanakamado will switch to another option."

As he spoke fluently, he shrugged. His expression, particularly stern, was still distorted by the gloomy tone of his voice.

Nazumi guessed, but he didn't say anything and kept talking.

"Do you want me to send you back... to the commander who caused the disturbance, to the intelligence agency?"

"It would be troublesome if I, an American, were detained, right? Nanakamado is now politically cornered and has lost his composure... The "King" that they have been so afraid of for so long that they did not touch him..."

Colt looked at Unno.

"It's completely reckless, to the point of ramming him. On top of that, if they found out that I was also detained by the "Fourth Legal Affairs Bureau", it would be a nuisance to everyone and they would pull a lot of desperate tricks."

Unno, who received the gaze from him, caught the gist of the indirect conversation.

Colt wasn't threatening to escape alone.

Rather the opposite...

Thinking about it, Unno took a step closer to the person he was impressed with.

"Even if you go home, you won't be fine, Colt-san."

"Still, I can't help but go home."

His fake smile was mixed with a touch of genuine emotion.

“If someone who faced the situation had to report it in detail and make an appeal… as expected, we shouldn't interfere with the "King". And, above all, the danger of that "Seventh King"."

Seeing how determined he was, Unno smiled at the other person with the same level of depth, but with genuine emotion. He puffed out his chest and said proudly.

"Yes, then do your best."

"Thank you."

Colt put on his dirty floppy hat and gave a little bow.

Nazumi let out a breath.

"I wish you wouldn't decide for the two of us."

Unno looked at the rude person.

"Are you saying that you are against it?"

"No, Nanakamado is more likely to listen to Colt-san's explanation than a warning from us, a hostile organization."

"Then don't be stupid and useless."

"No matter what you do, confirmation is necessary."

Among them, Colt, who had a wry smile on his face, began to walk slowly.

"I'm sorry I wasted your time."

He sent his repentance through his back.

"I return to Nanakamado because, as an American who has awakened to power, I have nowhere to go. Because I work as an intelligence agent there, I am exempt from being mobilized for a spy war against the communist bloc...all my actions are of self-protection."

However, Unno does not tolerate condescension.

He patted his back as he left with a sonorous voice.

"You have a life in front of you to regret or burn it, you can do what you want."

Colt stopped for a moment.

"......"

However, he walked out into the morning sun without looking back.

Lastly, he lightly waved his hand in embarrassment.

A MAN WHO WANTS TO BECOME A CROCODILE.

Oh.

I will become a crocodile.

My mother told me and my brothers.

Crocodiles usually hide in the dark and deep bottom of the water.

Shut up and do nothing.

When it goes down, it floats to the surface and eats things around it.

Anything you can get your hands on.

When it is full, it sinks back to the bottom of the water and sleeps.

Shut up and do nothing.

Don't piss me off

Do not hurt me.

When he gets angry, he rages at the bottom of the water and summons a storm.

They're all screwed.

Due to his tenacity, when he suffers, he goes after the person who hurt him.

From sea to land, anywhere.

Don't piss me off

Do not hurt me.

That's why everyone is afraid to get close.

So I'll turn into a crocodile.

Silently, do nothing, eat your fill.

Additional poem info: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wani_(dragon)

[prongsfootandco]

Rarity in You

Written for Day 6 of @prongsfoot-microfic March prompts

On AO3

_

Sirius stares at the man in front of him. He can’t take his eyes away, and Merlin, he doesn’t want to. There’s a beauty to the stranger that is so rare, so unique, that Sirius wants to capture it in a bottle and never let it go. His glasses should obstruct his eyes, but instead, they highlight the rich hazel behind the lenses, the golden flecks hidden within the irises. His dark hair is a tousled mess, giving off a bedhead look that makes Sirius’ mouth go dry. There are silver hairs brushing his temple and scattering within his thick beard, making him look incredibly distinguished. He’s wearing a thick, scarlet jumper over a shirt. The sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and all Sirius can think is ‘forearms’. 

It’s been years since Sirius has painted anything, but he finds himself yearning for his old oils and easel. 

The assignment will be a rough one given the immediate lust, but Sirius is one of the best Aurors serving and he suddenly knows that he would trust no one else with the job. 

The man beams brightly when he notices Sirius looking at him, and the whole room seems to light up, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. “Hi! I’m James.” He sticks out his hand, confident and charming as he winks at Sirius. “You’re my great protector then?”

Sirius returns the smile without thinking. “Assigned Auror. Sirius Black at your service.”

From the file that he’s read, James is a squib born of pureblood parents, which is as rare as James’ beauty, but he acts as an advisor to the Minister of Magic, liaising between the muggle and wizarding community. His work has caused some commotion in the pureblood circles, and Sirius has been brought in to make sure he’s safe. 

“Sirius? Pretty name.”

Oh, Merlin, James is flirting with him. Sirius is not going to survive this assignment, which means James won’t survive. Fuck. Get it together, Black. 

“For a pretty face,” he shoots back, ignoring the fact his cheeks are warming up. “But not as pretty as yours.”

Shit! He didn’t mean to say that. 

But James just laughs and links their arms together. “Oh, we are going to get on famously!”

“Because I called you pretty?” 

James shrugs. “I respond well to flattery. Honestly, I was pretty sure I would run away from whoever they shackled me to.” Sirius raises an eyebrow. “Problems with authority.”

“Ah.”

“But I don’t think I’ll mind being chained to you,” James teases, his lips brushing against Sirius’ cheek. “Although, you can always tie me up if it’ll make you feel better, Sirius.”

Oh god, the way James says his name is sinful, and his words dripping in thinly-veiled innuendoes. 

“Only if I can paint you!” Sirius blurts out. 

“Naked?”

“Is there another way?” 

He’s so losing his job after this. 

“It’s a deal,” James agrees as he slides his arm down Sirius’ until their fingers lace together.

[woahpip]

crave the golden sunshine a locklyle ficlet

The sun meant safety. It chased away the Problem, held the ghosts to their sources. Scared away the chill. 

Lucy can’t remember the last time she sat in the sun with nothing else to do; she only saw it crawling in from a job or while joining George on research trips. Never sitting in the yard, soaking it in.

That’s why this morning she surprised herself. She was up first, a rarity; usually Lockwood was puttering in the kitchen by now, dark circles under his eyes a tell he’d never admit to. He would make her tea and butter her toast, and she’d try hard not to stare at his adam's apple while he ate.

Today, she snuck down the stairs to almost silence. Light snoring came from George’s room, and Lockwood’s door was shut. Early morning sun filtered through the kitchen window, distracting her from plans of tea and making breakfast for the boys.

Lockwood had left his gray hoodie on a chair, so Lucy wrapped herself up in it and stepped outdoors.

The little garden was overgrown in a cute way; long ago, mint had spilled over from a container and took over a section of the ground. She tore a leaf and chewed on it while she walked around. There was one spot, near some thriving weeds, where the sun shone free. Lucy plopped on the ground and let the rays spill over her; she ignored the dew that soaked through her pajama pants, closed her eyes, and leaned back on her hands.

(read more below the cut or here on ao3!)

“Lucy?” Lockwood’s voice rang over the garden, jerking her out of her thoughts.

Her eyes opened and she realized the sun was much higher than when she first came out. She hadn’t been sleeping, or thinking. She was just…existing. It felt good to remember nothing for a little while.

“Here!” she finally answered.

Lucy moved to get up, go inside, and start her day, but Lockwood was faster. He carried a tray with her toast and two cups of tea, one perfectly milky and extra sweet, to her spot and settled in the grass beside her.

“Here you go,” he said, nudging her arm with her mug. He had his real smile on for her, the one that made her blush and her tongue go numb. She never knew what to say, always too caught up in his face to even whisper thank you. He didn’t seem to mind though; she swore he saw the gratitude in her eyes.

Once she started munching on toast, he turned his face to the sun. It showed off his pale skin and dark under eyes, still almost black even after a night of decent sleep.

“We don’t see each other enough,” he muttered. His eyes fell shut and his body leaned back just like Lucy did earlier.

She knew what he meant but wanted to ask a question anyway.

“You and me, or the sun?”

He smiled again, and her toes curled against the dirt.

“Both.”

She picked at her breakfast, alternating between taking bites and plucking weeds out of the ground to give her hands something to do besides grab at Lockwood. Though she was beginning to think he wouldn’t mind. Lucy stole glances at him the whole time, wanting to memorize the sharp lines of his face and how the sunshine made them pop.

She wanted to see him in the sun more. She hoped there’d be a time where that was possible.

“Lucy?” he asked after a while. He turned to face her, soft smile on his face. His hand reached out to grab her sleeve…which she just remembered was his. “Is that my hoodie?”

She turned red, embarrassed to be caught so casually taking his things. Not that she thought Lockwood would mind…but she felt they were dangerously close to crossing a line, and she didn’t know how either would handle it.

He spoke again before she could answer.

“It looks good on you.”

Then he turned back to the sun, hair fluttering in the wind. She watched him, committing this to memory, vowing to inter it in her sketchbook forever.

Before she could second guess herself, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you, Lockwood,” she whispered, before turning herself back to bask in the light.

[kiastirling-fanfic]

Happy DADWC! I'd love to hear about Leda Aeducan, with "You lost a bet when you met me dear" from the Dear Hunter lyrics prompts?

Yesssss. Here's Leda meeting Zevran! Largely introspective until the very end. @dadrunkwriting

Rating: T for Zevran's sheer existence Cws: canon-typical mentions of death/violence

Leda didn’t have much time to think during the ambush. Shoot the archers on the ridge with Leliana before they could shoot her, trust Alistair to handle the mage, trust Sten to survive the assassin long enough to rally and Wynne to keep him standing, trust Paragon to distract at a minimum, and trust Morrigan would do her best to make things awful for the enemy.

Minimal thinking, she didn’t even have to shout orders really. After the Circle tower they all knew their parts, and ambush or not it wasn’t especially complicated, not like navigating the Fade in a way no dwarf was meant to.

Arrow, aim, fire, dodge, repeat until there was only the assassin left. But he was down too, taken out by Alistair’s shield bash. And alive, unlike his allies.

Leda didn’t even really have to think about the next steps. She was no stranger to assassins after all, no one made it to adulthood in the Diamond Quarter without at least familiarity with the possibility of an assassination attempt on their life, and a princess more than most. She’d disarmed her first assassin at 14, with only Gorim to aid her as the guards at her door lay dead and those guarding her brothers were suspiciously silent, paid to ignore the attack or perhaps uninterested in any event that didn’t involve their particular charges. That time she left the interrogation to her father’s men and paid the price by never learning the source of the attack.

It was a mistake she never made again, and she wasn’t about to break that streak on the surface.

Leda made quick work of tying up the assassin, typing his hands in a terrible angle to stymie his inevitable escape attempt, and checked his mouth for any poison he might have ready to swallow in the event of a faillure. His daggers - the fighting set he’d wielded in the battle, those for throwing he kept at his waist, and the knife in his boot too small to be called a dagger but not too small to cut robe or lodge in a neck - were set at least two yards away.

Only then did she slap him awake.

It was no surprise that Loghain was the one to order her killed, nor was it a surprise that the assassin had no loyalty. Even in Orzammar that was a rarity, for a knife in the dark to do so for an ideal they themselves believed in, and given what Leda knew of surfacers she doubted it was more common here.

What was a surprise was the assassin’s demeanor. Perhaps it was not so strange that when faced with near certain death one should seek to endear themself to their captor, but it was less endearment and more downright flirtation.

Leda could have helped herself, but she smiled all the same. Practicality, survival instinct, and a decent fighter beside.

This Zevran Arainai was a breath of fresh air on the surface. An oxymoron, perhaps, since the surface was where the fresh air came from. Perhaps it was a bit of familiarity then. Heat on her cheeks that Leda had only known while leaning over the great lava lake below the city, the tang of blood. Understanding.

“I’ll keep an eye on you,” she assured him as she cut his bonds. “And you have to pull your own weight.”

“I think you will find, my dear Warden, that I can pull a great many things.” His comment was clearly intended to be lascivious, but it only made Leda throw back her head and laugh. She hauled Zevran to his feet, the elf unsurprisingly a fair bit taller than her but at least not so much as Alistair.

“I’m sure you can. I only hope you’re as good as your word. I think you’ll find you lost a bet when you met me, dear Crow.”

“Have I indeed?” His smile was as sharp as the dagger Leda had been gifted on the eve of her campaign.

Oh yes, she knew just how to handle men like him.

[the-bjd-community-confess]

Unfinished, Ugly, Overpriced

Genuine answer for the autistic anon and a discussion point for general commentary. Feel free to disagree and post your own thoughts on this, I feel like it’s important. While this may vary and we aren’t a bjd hive-mind, there are some basic minimum quality standards for artisan-made resin dolls, things that we have just kind of come to expect in the hobby, and many of the recent artist dolls that have been posted about here are posted because they don’t meet it. A lot of us don’t judge the doll worthy of its price and classification if it doesn’t meet these standards. Can you make what you want, how you want and charge what you want and ignore what anyone else thinks? Sure, but that might not be your best option if your goal is to continue to make and sell dolls. It’s not that big of a hobby and you need to appeal to a minimum number of actual paying customers to continue to meet your casting minimums and business expenses.

‘Ugly’ is subjective, a doll can be ugly to me and be wonderful to someone else but some degree of symmetry, a certain level of detail and evidence of artistic merit is usually expected for a doll over $100 not to just be considered ‘ugly’. ‘Finished’ is also subjective - many companies have refined their body sculpts and re-released them to look better and pose better, a few do it compulsively enough that it’s confusing to sort out all the versions even - but each version usually meets what we have come to expect as some kind of ‘finished’ state at the time of release, a range of motion, a refinement of the parts inside and out, consistent sizing within a proportional aesthetic, a good fit for the parts where they meet and few to no defects in the resin or overall design that could cause problems later. ‘Expense’ is another thing that is subjective, but price expectation is usually tied to both doll quality and skill of the maker, and in a more complex way, to rarity at release time or later. It’s true there have been a few utter potatoes that have held their value but those are exceptions. For me, since my doll gang has a really wide price range - basically if you can’t produce something that matches my aesthetic preference on a quality level that is consistent with other similarly sized dolls within your price range, I give the doll (and often the doll maker) a miss.

Another thing I’ve noticed is that the in past, doll critique in some circles has been both more blunt and more honest. When I started painting dolls, I received more helpful feedback in my own work and improved faster than I would have otherwise with only likes and nice comments. Now it feels like there’s more expectation to just say something nice and encouraging when someone posts a WIP and the actual critique areas are forgotten. I believe that part of the difference also is that some of the digital sculptors today don’t have a basic art background and they aren’t asking for and receiving valid constructive critique and re-printing & refining their dolls accordingly before casting, especially to work on the joints. But I also do know of at least 2 doll sculptors who will nearly throw a tantrum if they post a digital WIP asking for critique and don’t get praise, so no one bothers to give them any good critique anymore. Yet they expect to charge competitive prices for doll preorders that IMO do not meet the quality standards that merit the price they are asking.I mean yeah it's cool to make a doll that is inspired from book, video games, anime etc but I think this should stay a personal project, not something that you want to sell in several quantities.

~Anonymous

[deathfavor]

@barrenstars​ said: her job for the legion was another success, which meant the pay would once again be exceptional.  it's oddly not what she thinks about as she sits against a large container, supporting a few injuries from her recent job.  her amused gaze focuses on earl as he chats away to another member of the legion, discussing bai yi's great success and how much zoya had stated she was owed for it.  when earl comes her way, she meets him halfway, rising to her feet with a slight unstable wobble and trudging over with a wide grin.  he speaks and of course, she listens, stopping him mid-sentence with a single question.  ❝ are you single? ❞  earl was quite handsome -  in fact, 'quite' was an understatement.  earl was attractive, there was absolutely no questioning it.  ignoring the way the legion members tense and shift their positions as the woman reaches out to run her finger along the man's coat, she circles him, not perceiving the sharp pain in her side, inflicted by a bullet.  ❝ you're such a hard worker, and very loyal.  that's an extremely attractive trait in men, although quite rare nowadays, you know? ❞

   For as troublesome as the reputation of Bai Yi could be, she was good at what she did when she applied herself. The bond between Legion and Whitestone Industries was strong an profitable for them both. Earl didn’t trust something as simple as good relations based on leaders - he was a cautious and cunning man an kept fierce watch. As long as both sides could profit, he would have faith to some degree in the bond. If that faltered though, Earl would be the first to notice and quick to react. The advisor of Legion was well known for his abilities as an advisor after all.  But that aside, Bai Yi deserved acknowledgement both formally from the Legion for her assistance, as well as a rare gem of praise that Earl was willing to offer. He knew talent and skill, and she had plenty of both.

   That does not mean he doesn’t notice nor that he would disregard her wobble that could be missed with her smile. It’s only the fact she interrupts before he can comment (after due praise) the delays what he will inevitably point out. (He will not forget it the way others probably would.)  Is he single? If Earl is shocked by the question, it doesn’t show on his face beyond a slight lift of his eyebrows. Maybe the action is because of being interrupted, maybe it is because of the question. He quiets for a moment, the interruption a rarity that he allows in this instance.

   “ ....I am.  “  Which is not particularly surprising when one thinks about it. His grim and dangerous aura kept plenty away even without knowing who he was. And if someone DID know who he was? The reputation was another barrier. He was guarded and distrustful, and focused on the mission of Legion first and foremost. Not what most people chose to look at for anything casual OR serious.

    Tension spikes from the Legion soldiers when she’s brave or insane enough to reach out towards him. A snap of a finger or a cant of the head would be enough to let the soldiers loose like a pack of starving animals. But Earl merely stands still, steady and unwavering. A fox knows when to move and not waste unnecessary energy. Neither he nor Legion are under threat or risk.  He lifts his chin slightly an the soldiers that had been watching relax, even if they do shift a bit uneasily. Instead, her movement draws his eyes down to her changed movement, muscles shifting and weight adjusting to make up for injuries. She might not notice it. He does.

   “  This world we live in is full of mutts ready to rip each other apart for a few coins. “  He snorts. He’d quite literally seen people kill for a few tossed coins or a hot meal. He’s sure everyone in Syndicate has at some point or another. People would turn traitor in a heartbeat. Not Earl. Even when he disagreed with a plan, he never turned his back on Zoya or the Legion.  “  Loyalty from anyone or anything is a hard-won trait in a hell-hole like this.  “  Though, once earned, it was unshakable lest the other person choose to destroy it. 

   “  You’re injured.  “  Earl remarks, his ever-observing gaze focused on her side when he speaks before it lifts towards her face when he steps forward.  “  I’ll send for a medic for you. Free of charge naturally.  “  It was an injury gained for the sake of the Legion’s mission - it was the least that could be done on top of the agreed upon payment as far as Earl was concerned.

[unsaid-stardust]

Hate That You Know Me So Well

Lucy had never seen such a rarity; Lockwood was asleep. Body slouched, head thrown back in his brown-leathered chair, Lockwood looked at peace for once in his life. Lucy felt the familiar warmth in her chest that often came along with looking at Lockwood these days. As much as she tried to ignore it, it was always there. Especially now, seeing him take such a well deserving nap. She would never tell that to his face, of course. He already has too much of an ego for her liking (that was a lie that she was not ready to admit to herself). 

But, it was true. Everyone could see how exhausted Lockwood was. The dark circles around his eyes were more like tattoos at this point. And Lucy hated it. He was getting a lot better at being more open with her and George, but there were still secrets he kept close to his heart for whatever reason. It tore Lucy’s own heart to shreds if she thought about it too much. 

Lucy shook her head to snap herself out of it and instead, moved to grab a blanket from the corner of the room. She stepped ever so gracefully. One wrong step and the creak of the floorboard beneath her would be Lockwood’s alarm clock. That was the last thing she wanted. Lockwood needed as much sleep as he could get. 

Tiptoeing around the room, Lucy made it to Lockwood’s armchair and swiftly removed the book that lay open across his lap. Mentally patting herself on the back for a job well done, she then opened the folded blanket up and draped it across Lockwood’s legs. Nothing could prepare her for what happened next. 

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