#Limited Company Liquidation

[mukwoodleaf]

Types of companies in zambia

Types of companies in zambia

[red-smut]

Work of five 1/6: Ryujin

2000 words

Initially this was going to be a long one-shot with all the girls, but in the end I'm going to make this a mini-series in which each chapter will be focused on one girl and the last one will be with all of them at the same time, I hope you like it.

Profits are the most important in the kpop industry, agencies make a lot of money by making use of the voice and face of their idols, but inside the kpop paradise hides a dark hell that not all idols have reached, but sooner or later they will.

When a girl group fails to fulfill the expectations set by their agency regarding profits, they act and decide to raise the money in a more… frowned upon way.

Because there are people in the world willing to pay huge amounts of money to get their hands on a young Asian girl they adore internationally.

In this situation are now Itzy’s girls, who have not been able to raise enough money, so a group of millionaires has decided to rent the body of the girls for fun.

The first to find out about this deal was Ryujin, JYP asked her to stay after a concert, thus separating her from the group.

After being put on notice she tried to refuse but finally had to accept for the sake of her career.

Soft male moans were coming from inside Ryujin’s dressing room, where she was squatting sucking the cock of 4 men of different races.

One is a huge black man, he must have been about six feet tall and his physique was certainly incredible, but what stood out the most about him was his huge member, which was so big that Ryujin barely reached half of it.

On the other hand there was a Russian man who barely let out a word, although his cock was not as big as his partner’s it must be admitted that his size was still quite astonishing.

Finally there is the old man, he wasn’t made for this kind of jogging anymore and he had already cum three times in Ryujin’s mouth, but he is the leader of a big company and he is one of the ones who paid the most, so Ryujin had to give him some preference by order of JYP

The Russian man is grabbing Ryujin by the hair while she was wrapping her lips around his cock, trying to push him to the limit to get one out of the way already “it’s been 10 seconds, switch.”

The Russian pushed Ryujin away by force and gave her hair to the black guy, who accepted it delightedly and immediately grabbed it tightly to crush his cock against the rapper’s face, his shaft went from her chin to her forehead, where the tip of this monstrosity rested, when she felt the dirty smell of his cock Ryujin went blank for a few moments and her body acted by pure instinct, licking and kissing the dick with an expression that showed submission.

But this didn’t last long, as Ryujin came back to her senses and hurriedly walked away “You disgusting fucking nasty nigger, wash your dick once in a while it makes you want to…”

Old hands grabbed Ryujin’s head and turned her around to plunge an old cock down her throat, with him Ryujin had a special treat and started to devour his cock eagerly, knowing that if it made the old man happy enough maybe she wouldn’t have to go through this ever again.

Ryujin sucks him while teasing his tip with her tongue and occasionally flicking it up and down his shaft, one of her hands gripping the member while the other grasps his balls, gently stroking them to please the old man.

When she feels him approaching the limit she tries to pull away, but a hand stops her, Ryujin tries harder but the man’s grip is firm and the idol soon feels a thick white liquid flooding her mouth.

Then the old man lets go, laughing as he sees Ryujin spit out the nectar with disgust “You’re done already, aren’t you? If so get the fuck out of here.”

“Not yet, we want your other mouth too” The shadows of the black man and the Russian hover over Ryujin “We can still go on”

“Alright” Ryujin reluctantly agreed trusting that she could end this quickly and take control of the situation, but she couldn’t be more wrong

“Bro, it’s my turn, leave her to me now” The russian puts his hand on the black man’s shoulder and he slides his member out of Ryujin, letting his seed fall quickly, he looks at his partner and smiles “She’s all yours.”

He dropped Ryujin and she supported herself as she could, but as her legs were weak she would have fallen to the ground had it not been for the big Russian man who held her before she fell, Ryujin tried to look into his eyes still trying to recover from the brutal fuck she had just experienced. “Let me rest for a moment please… then I’ll do whatever you want”.

Ryujin’s words only served to make the Soviet man hornier, who without hesitation turned Ryujin around and with one hand slammed her head against the door, getting ready to fuck her doggy style

The old man approached the two of them, he was already dressed again and watched Ryujin with a slight smile “You’re so hot Ryujin, I think I’ll rent you later for something else.”

Ryujin glared angrily at the old man but didn’t complain as he knew it didn’t suit him. The old man placed his hand on the Russian man’s shoulder “Please Andrei, can you do me a favor and break her? I’m willing to pay you if you want” Hearing this the idol tried to let go but Andrei was too strong “Don’t worry Mr. Takahasi, I’m happy to do it.”

“Hey let go of me I don’t want to…” The big Soviet cock plunged inside Ryujin and she couldn’t help replacing her words with a moan, she tried to speak afterwards but another onslaught from the big man had the same effect again.

Shut up and relax bitch, the ones who fight the most are always the ones who enjoy the most in the end” Ryujin’s walls tighten, trying to keep that huge tool from coming out of her “See? You don’t want to admit it but you love what I do, come on, cum and prove me right"

Ryujin didn’t want to give the man reason, but unfortunately for her, her body was no longer obeying her will.

Immediately Ryujin started to squirt and Andrei had to pull out, Ryujin’s juices soaked both the man’s pelvis and the floor “So you’re a squirter eh? I like that” The black man couldn’t help but want to get into action seeing all that, so he brought his cock closer to Ryujin’s mouth and without hesitation she moved her head and stuck her tongue out trying to take the black member between her lips

“Hungry slut” The black man brought his cock closer so Ryujin could wrap her lips over it, then she started sucking hard and dedicatedly to please the man she thought she hated before

Andrei didn’t lag behind and started rubbing his cock against her entrance again “Do you want me to put it back in?” Ryujin let out a choked moan and let the black cock out for a single moment “Please… Fuck me…” Andrei smiled and slammed his manhood through the wet hole and the black for his part grabbed Ryujin’s head and began to fuck her face so roughly that tears began to leak from her eyes.

Ryujin closed her eyes as the two cocks devastated her mouth and pussy, she cummed again and again, falling further and further into the abyss of depravity. As she was being fucked she suddenly heard laughter and footsteps, and when she opened her eyes she discovered three other huge men already naked, this was just the beginning for her…

1 hour… 2 hours… Ryujin had already lost track of time by this time. Every time she got one guy to finish another one came in right after, some even continued after cumming on her several times

By this time Ryujin was sandwiched, one cock was bursting in her pussy while the other was fucking her ass. She wanted to moan but she was not able to as her mouth was also being occupied by another man, besides as she could not leave the others waiting her hands were also at work, masturbating two cocks and preparing them to take over from the ones already in her holes.

Andrei and Mr. Takahasi were sitting on the couch watching what was going on “That bitch is very resilient, she has been here for almost three hours and she is still conscious… may I ask what you need her for, Mr. Takahasi?”

Mr. Takahasi laughed at the question and answered “Nothing that should be important for you Andrei, just shut up and enjoy the girl.”

“I understand that you don’t want to tell me, but please, is it really necessary to record it?” Andrei pointed to a hidden camera in the corner of the dressing room. “You thought I wouldn’t notice?”

“Is necessary Andrei, it makes this all the more fucking hotter, now go and fuck her again” Andrei got up reluctantly and forcibly pulled out the one Ryujin was sucking on.

“Ok slut, you like fat cocks don’t you?” Ryujin looked Andrei in the eyes with a mix of happiness and lust and managed to answer between moans “Yes… Please use this slut…” Without waiting any longer Andrei took advantage of the fact that Ryujin’s mouth was open to stick his cock in.

Ryujin sucked hard trying to make him cum fast because she wanted to taste his cum as soon as possible.

The other two were already close, Ryujin’s constant orgasms and her tightness had pushed them to the limit and they couldn’t hold on any longer. The first to cum was the one occupying her ass, he pulled out in time and let his seed fall on her back and ass.

The feeling of the warm semen made Ryujin cum again and push the other guy to finish, but he refused to pull out and released inside. The semen filled Ryujin’s insides and even overflowed, some of it dripping down the boy’s cock

Having finished with the other two Ryujin managed to rush out of the sandwich she was subjected to, She released the cocks she was jerking and stopped sucking Andrei’s cock to kneel on the floor, then grabbed his member again and wrapped her lips around it again.

Her hands went one to his shaft to caress it as she sucked it and the other to his big balls to play with them.

Her gaze went to Andrei’s eyes and it was completely different from the one she had at the beginning, while before her gaze was of fury now it was the gaze of a nymphomaniac

Before she knew it she was cumming already, Ryujin took all of it without any complaints and when he finished she opened her mouth and let his seed slide down her tongue, giving him a sight he would not forget for a long time.

Ryujin continued to get fucked but Mr. Takahasi had enough show for today and was now in his limo talking on the phone with JYP “The girl is good and I have no doubt that she will be useful to me… but I think I would still like to see the other girls because you know… This is a work of five…”

Takahasi looked at the pictures of the girls on his phone “So… Could you sneak me into Yuna’s next “Sex Party”?"

[cdntrustee]

LIQUIDATION OF COMPANY ASSETS: WHEN SHAREHOLDERS ARE INTENT ON CRUSHING EACH OTHER WHAT CAN A VOLUNTARY LIQUIDATOR DO?

LIQUIDATION OF COMPANY ASSETS: WHEN SHAREHOLDERS ARE INTENT ON CRUSHING EACH OTHER WHAT CAN A VOLUNTARY LIQUIDATOR DO?

Liquidation of company assets:  What is the liquidation of a company? In business and the law, liquidation is the process of bringing a company to an end and distributing its assets to creditors. This usually happens when a company is financially solvent and can pay all of its debts after all its assets are sold or collected. When a product is not selling well, retailers may choose to liquidate…

[ro-is-struggling]

The Princess and The Wolf || PART 1 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: A look inside the complicated love story between the runaway princess and the lone wolf that saved her.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mutual pining, really bittersweet, heavy narration and not much dialogue, female reader (use of she/her pronouns//reader is a princess), mentions of blood and injuries (reader heals Geralt’s wounds), my shitty titles (I’m so bad at it, I’m so sorry)

English is not my first language

Word count: 5000

Notes: Look,  I was in the mood for writing something cute and fluffy and magical (but also it's Geralt so it as to be angsty). I know those are probably not the words that come to your mind when you think of Geralt, but let me change your mind! Also I love writing healers/nature witches. Can you tell my fav character as a kid was Flora from Winx Club? 

This is my first time writing something like this (as in this style of narrative and for this character in particular) so be gentle!

READ PART 2 HERE

Geralt was not used to feeling that way. In his many years of living on this earth, he had never missed anyone the way he missed her. He was a lone wolf who, despite having his pack, enjoyed traveling from town to town with his horse as his only companion. He enjoyed the silence and tranquility, and did not tend to miss home too much —finding that his annual visits in the winter were more than enough to catch up with his brothers while healing his wounds. 

However, he did miss her when he was traveling. He missed feeling the warm touch of her skilled hands on his wounds as she healed him. He missed waking up to the sound of her laughter, talking to her cat as she prepared breakfast. He even missed her scolding and the look of concern she gave him every time he arrived at the door of her cabin hidden in the forest, injured. She made him feel special, often occupying his thoughts and dreams. He knew what it was, but refused to call it by name —if he did, it became real and he didn't know if he was ready for that.

Such was his longing to see her that he was almost happy to be wounded in battle, finding the perfect excuse to show up at her door once again. His wounds were deep, the beast's venom slowly spreading through his system. Were it not for the fact that he was close to her home, Geralt was fairly certain he would not have reached her in time. His healing skills were limited and only served to make his journey to the hut more bearable. Yet, the closer he got to her, the less his body ached. The promise of her company alone was enough to cure his afflictions.

Geralt was weak when he arrived at her door. From the way her natural cheerful expression turned into a worried grimace when she saw him on the other side of the wood, it was safe to assume he was not looking good. She rushed him to bed, asking him a thousand questions as she paced back and forth, gathering the necessary herbs and potions to treat his wounds. He answered no more than necessary, giving her just enough information to treat him and sparing her the details of his journey. 

He was distracted, his mind clouded by the lack of blood and the poison spreading through his body, but also by the sweet floral scent that surrounded him. It was a perfume he could only describe as the very essence of her, a mixture of jasmine, roses and a hint of vanilla that followed her everywhere, leaving a special scent in the air that assaulted the witcher's nostrils, rendering him powerless. 

"Drink this," she told him as she offered him a vial of a pale green liquid. It was a potion that would help with the poison, she explained, though he needed no reason to obey her. Geralt trusted her completely and would have drank anything she offered without question. 

"Try to hold still, this might sting a little." She warned him, pushing his clothes aside so she could treat the deep gash in his chest. She smeared her fingers with a paste that had a peculiar odor, rubbing it over her hands to warm it before directing them to the wound. Geralt was met with a burning sensation that spread from his wound to the rest of his chest as soon as her fingers made contact with his skin. He let out a grunt, fighting the spasms of his muscles to allow her to work comfortably. However, the burning was soon replaced by a sensation of pleasant warmth as she uttered an incantation in the ancient tongue. 

He concentrated on the harmonious sound of her voice, letting the words transport him back to that first time they had found themselves in a similar situation. He had been hired by the king to assassinate the beast that had killed the princess. It was said that it prowled the forest after sunset, it was there that the young girl had met her fatal fate. Her love for nature and the long walks under the moonlight was what had ultimately made her an easy prey for that monster. Geralt did not retain the specific details of that story, only what was useful to analyze his enemy. Had he done so, he might have realized that there were strange things in the story that would make any Witcher suspicious. And perhaps then he would not have been so surprised when he found the princess very much alive and well, wandering through the forest alone.

"Please, don't make me go back there." She had begged him after explaining that she had taken advantage of the beast's convenient appearance to escape from her home. "There's nothing waiting for me back there, only a future of unhappiness and subjugation to a man that doesn't respect me."

"I was hired to kill a beast and that's all I intend to do." Was his reply. He was more than ready to continue on his way, to leave her behind to sort out her fate while he dealt with what he had been hired to do, but the princess did not give him the opportunity. She begged for his help to escape from there, she didn't care where he took her as long as he got her as far away from her kingdom as possible. Her escape had not been planned, but a last minute decision that had not allowed her to pack supplies or even steal a horse from the stable. Still, she had been able to travel a fairly long way on foot, but it was evident that she could not continue like this much longer.

"I can't pay you in coin," she told him. "But I can make sure you survive your battle."

Geralt felt sorry for the young woman and was going to help her without asking for anything in return. He really doubted that she had anything valuable to offer him. He was a Witcher, an assassin highly trained in both combat and the arts of magic, tools he used to keep himself alive in the high-risk situations he lived in on a regular basis. However, his mercy proved useful after the battle, when the young princess demonstrated her healing abilities.

His wounds were deep, he was tired and his skin was painted with the reddish sticky liquid that ran through the beast's veins. But still, he was able to crawl to safety where she waited for him with his horse Roach. When she saw him approaching on the horizon she jumped to her feet, hands full of herbs she had gathered in preparation for that moment. Geralt could see nothing but a halo of light in the distance, a figure of hope running towards him with hair flying in the wind as it called his name.

He collapsed against a tree trunk, his breath hitching as the world around him became blurry and dark. He was not unconscious, but neither was he able to process what was happening around him. His memories of that moment were blurry, like a dream slipping from his mind upon awakening. The only thing he remembered clearly was a sweet female voice calling him back to life as soft hands caressed his skin, spreading their comforting warmth inside him.

Geralt had felt peace for the first time in a long while as her hands worked their magic on him, just as he felt at this very moment as her fingers caressed his skin once again. It always happened, her touch alone flooded his insides with peace and tranquility. Maybe that was why he missed her so much, maybe that was why he found himself visiting her for the simplest injuries that even he could heal. Unlike other healers, she was the only one who could calm his tormented soul, the only one who could quiet his thoughts and remove all traces of bitter negativity from his heart. 

"Rest." He heard her whisper in his ear and as much as he wanted to, he didn't have the strength to open his eyes and look at her one more time. Geralt knew he was tired, but only now, in the quiet of her company and wrapped in the warmth of her body, did he realize just how much. 

When he opened his eyes again it was morning. The rays of sunlight streaming through the window touched his face in a warm caress. His pupils were forced to adjust to the light as he opened his eyes, narrowing to almost two slits identical to those of the black cat resting beside him. The animal meowed contentedly as he shifted between the sheets —letting out a grunt of pain at the heaviness of his muscles. He stroked the cat as it purred at him, scratching its head and behind its ears as he knew it liked, before making an effort to get out of bed. His body ached and he still felt tired, but given what he had been through, he was lucky to be alive. 

Geralt heard the sweet sound of the young woman's voice echoing down the hallway like a melodious murmur that filled his heart with joy. It came from the garden, so that was where he went. He found her having a conversation with Roach, brushing the horse's mane while complaining about him to the animal as if it could talk back. They were harmless comments that he knew she didn't mean, though he'd heard them in the past —complaints about his recklessness and lack of responsibility as a horse owner were never lacking. She was especially fond of animals, so she loved to talk to his horse as if he were a human being. She did it with her cat as well, and with any animal that crossed her path. Geralt found it entertaining, though a bit excessive —especially when they traveled together and she made him stop every so often to pet and chat with every rabbit and squirrel in their path.

"What are you doing out of bed? You need to rest!" She scolded him as soon as her eyes landed on him. As firm as her gaze was, he could see concern rather than anger or annoyance reflected in them.

"I would have stayed in bed if I hadn't felt the need to come out and defend my good name." He played along, the corner of his mouth curving ever so slightly upward in an almost imperceptible movement. "I can't have you filling Roach's head with lies about me."

"They are not lies!" She grumbled, folding her arms in exaggerated annoyance. "You are reckless and you don't give poor Roach enough attention." At her words, the animal thumped its front left paw against the ground as if it understood what she had said and agreed. Geralt huffed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

"You already turned her against me." She laughed and it was like music to his ears, a melodious tone that awakened happiness within him. 

"I don't have to, she is a smart creature." She fired back, giving the horse a couple of gentle pets before setting aside what she was doing to focus her attention on him. "But seriously, you need to get back in bed."

"I'm fine." It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. She looked at him steadily and Geralt knew she thought she looked intimidating, but with the way the light of the rising sun framed her figure and the gentle breeze moving her hair, he saw nothing more than a forest fairy. The most beautiful and innocent fairy he had ever seen. He was tempted to challenge her just to tease her and make her grumble. She looked adorable when she pointed an accusatory finger at him believing that something she did or said could intimidate the Witcher. In the end he decided not to do so and instead accompanied her back into the house, though he did not lie down again, but sat with her at the kitchen table. 

She insisted on preparing breakfast on her own, arguing that he was her guest and that he was badly injured, so Geralt had the opportunity to admire her as she moved about the room, humming under her breath melodies he did not recognize. It made him genuinely happy to see her acting so freely around him, thinking about how far their relationship had come. When he had first met her, she was far from the confident, free spirit she was now. She was quiet and reserved, barely asking him questions from time to time to fill the void of silence and always apologizing for everything.

It was more than mere distrust of a stranger, Geralt could see in her eyes that she was trapped inside herself, a cocoon of fears and insecurities that trapped in its intricate net the beautiful butterfly that lurked within. She would show her true colors from time to time, like when he would catch her talking to Roach when she thought he was sleeping, or when she would make them stop to help a wounded animal. But she always apologized immediately afterwards, as if she realized too late that she had done something wrong, something she wasn't supposed to do. It made Geralt wonder what kind of life she had left behind when she ran away from home. 

He was not a man of many words and was used to traveling alone and in silence, accompanied only by the chirping of birds and the crunching of dry leaves under Roach's hooves, but when it came to her he felt a strange need to hear her speak. Perhaps it was the harmonious tone of her voice, or maybe the fact that he could tell she needed to express herself, but he didn't mind when she rambled absentmindedly as they traveled, putting into words every thought that crossed her mind. 

"I was never meant to be a princess, no matter what my blood says." She had confessed to him one afternoon as they walked through the forest. "The traditions, the politics, the expectations... I was never good at any of that."

"Is that why you ran away?" His question took her by surprise. He barely spoke to her so she assumed he wasn't listening to her most of the time. When she turned to look at him she found his yellow eyes fixed on her, making her feel small under his intense gaze.

"I wanted to be free." She answered honestly. "I refused to live trapped inside a castle for another day, pretending to be someone I'm not, pleasing everybody but myself... I want to forge my own path, build my own destiny. I have no idea what I'm doing or if it will even work, but I owe it to myself to try."

Geralt admired her for that. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but she knew what she didn't want and had had the courage to do something about it. That was why he was so glad things were going well for her. She deserved her freedom, she deserved to have the space to find herself and live her life on her terms. Her bravery had been rewarded.

"How are you feeling?" She asked him as she set a plate of food in front of him, her voice bringing him out of his thoughts. 

"I'm fine."

"Are you? Or are you doing that thing you do all the time when you pretend not to need anyone's help?" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, proud of herself for knowing him so well. 

Geralt sighed. "I'm a bit sore and tired, but I'll live." He finally confessed.

"That's normal, you were really hurt. I'm amazed that you got here in one piece." 

"You should have seen the other guy." He joked sarcastically and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm being serious, Geralt. The poison could have killed you."

"It didn't."

"Only because of your slow heartbeat, but what if next time you don't get so lucky?" The tone of the conversation suddenly changed as they looked into each other's eyes. The familiar heavy tension in the air, making it hard to breathe. 

It was her greatest fear. She feared there would come a day when Geralt's wounds would be so bad that even she wouldn't be able to heal them. She feared it almost as much as never opening the door again and finding him on the other side. The thought of him dying, at home or out on the battlefield, terrified her. She knew it was stupid since he was a Witcher, a being genetically modified to face the greatest dangers, whose purpose in life was to kill monsters. She knew the smart thing to do would have been to get away from him in time, before his absence hurt her as much as it did. She knew there was no point in worrying about someone who had made peace with the idea of dying in battle, but she did it anyway. She couldn't help but fear for his safety the moment he set foot outside her home, worrying until he would eventually show up there again.

"Just... be careful." She muttered after a few seconds of silence, swallowing her emotions as a lump formed in her throat.

Geralt could see the pain in her eyes, the fear and worry shining in them clearly. He felt the need to assure her that he would be all right, but they both knew that was a lie. In his line of work one could never be sure of anything. Things could change very quickly and even he could be surprised with the cold caress of death sooner than expected. The best he could do was to assure her that he would do everything in his power to get back to her.

"I will be." 

That wasn't enough to dissipate the young woman's fears, but it was enough to calm her worries for the moment. Instead of concentrating on things she couldn't control, she chose to turn her attention to the things she could. After breakfast she inspected Geralt's wounds once more to make sure they were healing properly. With the help of her magic and the speed with which the Witcher's body regenerated, the deep gash that adorned his chest was now no more than a scratch. The skin was still red and irritated, but it was in better condition than just a few hours ago. The same with the rest of the cuts and scratches that graced the rest of his body, some of which had already disappeared completely, leaving behind a slightly discolored line on the skin.

She sat beside him as she worked, rubbing a healing paste of her own creation over what was left of his wounds. She focused her energy on him, eyes glued to the skin of his chest as she let her fingers work their magic. She knew it probably wasn't necessary, given the rapid evolution of his cuts they would most likely be practically healed in a couple more hours. But she wanted to do it. She didn't like to see him hurt, even if it was something that happened regularly. He always came to her bruised and bloody, but even then she never got used to seeing him like that. She hated to see him suffer, so when he was with her she would go out of her way to heal all the wounds on his body no matter how small or insignificant. She wanted to make her home a sanctuary for him, a place free of pain and danger where they were safe to be together.

Geralt could feel her energy enveloping him, the warmth her body radiated caressing his skin delicately. The scent of her hair flooded his nostrils, filling his lungs with that sweet floral perfume that was so distinctive to him. It was intoxicating, a drug he couldn't quit. He allowed himself to get lost in the moment, enjoying the soft touch of her hands on his chest and shoulders as he admired her work. She was beautiful, like a flower full of color and life that only grew stronger with each of his visits. Her smile, a ray of sunshine that lit up the gray, cloudy sky that was his life. And her eyes... oh her eyes. Geralt could get lost in them for hours, reading in her reflection every little thought that went through her head. To him she was an open book, the most fascinating he had read in a long time.

She became slightly nervous when she looked up and met Geralt's intense gaze fixed on her. They were close, too close to each other for her not to feel intimidated under the watchful admiration of his amber orbs. And yet, she couldn't look away from him. She couldn't help but marvel at the sharp angles of his features, counting the small scars that adorned his skin as her eyes traveled down his face. Those were two traits that people normally found intimidating about him. He had the face of a reckless warrior, a lone wolf with no feelings that augured trouble. But she knew him better than that, she knew the man behind the rumors and knew there was much more to his story and his character. When she looked at him she saw more than the dangerous Witcher. She saw the man who had saved her from her terrible fate, the one she missed and longed for when he was far away, the only man who occupied her thoughts. 

Geralt's eyes strayed to her lips as she caressed them with her tongue. It was an innocent act but he felt it as a temptation, a challenge he had every intention of accepting. He leaned forward, feeling her warm, slightly quickened breath colliding and mingling with his own. He held still for a moment, waiting for her to pull back and move away. When she didn't, Geralt moved a little closer to her until he felt the tip of her nose brush against his. When he looked up one last time, he noticed that she was looking at him with half lidded eyes, completely at his mercy. She was in a trance, lost in the deep amber of his eyes, with no thought in her mind but him. It was the moment they had both been waiting for, the culmination of all the tension that had built up.

But before they could join their lips in the long-awaited kiss, the sound of the cat jumping on top of the table interrupted them. The animal's meow broke the trance and she realized what was about to happen. Embarrassed, she pulled away from Geralt immediately, mumbling something about feeding the cat as she disappeared from his vision. He would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed, still longing to feel her lips on his, but perhaps it was for the best. If he kissed her he would never want to stop or leave again, and he knew that wasn't possible. His place was out there on the road with his horse as his only companion. He was not meant to stay in one place for long, his profession had taken that privilege away from him long ago.

“Your wounds are almost healed.” She stated as she returned to the room, picking up the cat and setting it down off the table. It was an excuse so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye when talking, something to occupy herself so she wouldn't think about what had just happened.

"Guess I'll be leaving tonight then." He was in no hurry to leave, he would gladly stay another week there with her if he could, but he knew that wasn't wise. He could never stay too long with her since he always feared the effects it might have. The more time he spent with her, sharing moments of domestic intimacy, the harder it was for him to get back on the road. The last time he had been there he had ended up running away in the middle of the night, knowing he couldn't leave if he had to look her in the eye and say goodbye. And now he feared that nothing had changed, so he had to get out of there before it was too late.

"I would rather you stay one more night and rest here." She said in a soft tone, trying to hide the true meaning behind her words. She didn't want him to leave, not yet. "Your physical wounds might be healing fast but don't forget that you were poisoned and you almost died. Witcher or not, that's a lot." 

"I'll be fine."

"Maybe, but would it kill you to stay here one more night for my own sake? Because if you walk through that door now, I will spend the rest of my days worrying about you until I see you again." She finally worked up the courage to look at him, pleading with her eyes for him to listen to her. She knew that if he wanted to leave there was nothing she could do to stop him, so she hoped he would have mercy on her. "I just want to make sure that you're alright."

Geralt couldn't refuse her even if he wanted to, not when she was looking at him with big, bright eyes full of love. Not when her voice was almost a whisper, as if she was afraid he would hear her. He understood the feeling, the fear of admitting what he really felt. But it was easier that way. It was the best thing for both of them. Their lives were incompatible as were their personalities. 

She was a nice sunny summer afternoon and he was a harsh winter night. She was a ray of sunshine that with her warm touch awakened life in everything around her and he was the cold, cruel snow that buried everything under a layer of ice. Maybe that was why he felt this inexplicable attraction to her, as if they were connected by an invisible thread that pulled him to her every time he tried to walk away. Her warmth melted the ice around him, allowing new things to blossom in the fertile soil. Only he didn't know if there was anything left under the ice that could bloom. If so, he had to be careful because her warmth, though pleasant and comforting, could lead to his doom.

Still, he ignored his brain's warnings, giving in to her pleas. They spent the day together and Geralt allowed himself to lose himself in the intimacy and domestic bliss of the moment. He indulged in the fantasy of a life by her side as he admired her dancing around the kitchen while cooking or moving among the plants as she tended to her garden, talking to the squirrels and birds that wandered by. He delighted in the sound of her voice as she called his name and enjoyed her melodious laughter. 

When the sun went down, she lay beside him on the bed, talking nonsense until her eyelids began to feel heavy. She denied being sleepy several times, assuring him that she was just resting her eyes. Geralt snorted, but said nothing, listening intently to the story she was telling him about a deer she had saved from death between masked yawns. She didn't get to finish the story, not consciously at least. She mumbled a couple of almost inaudible gibberish before falling asleep, fighting her last battle against her body's need for rest.

Geralt watched her sleep for a good while, his eyes admiring the peace on her face in the dim candlelight. She had never looked so ethereal, with her hair spread out on the pillow like a halo around her head, and her chest rising and falling slowly with her calm breathing. Her skin was soft under his touch, a stark contrast to the roughness of his fingers bruised from all the fighting and constant use of the sword. She was the most beautiful piece of art, a sculpture carved by the gods themselves. He almost felt unworthy to be by her side, the softness of her features reminding him once again how different they were, how wrong his feelings were. 

He got out of bed with a heavy heart, searching for his things while being very careful not to make a sound so as not to alert her. He couldn't stay there one more night, if he woke up in the morning with her by his side he would never want to leave and he knew very well that it wouldn't end well. So, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, just a brush of his lips against her skin as a farewell.

Geralt disappeared into the darkness of the night without leaving any trace of his presence. When she opened her eyes the next morning she was disappointed to find herself alone in bed. She didn't have to leave the room to know he was gone, she could feel his absence in the air. She felt lonely and cold again, already missing the warmth that filled her whenever he was around. Letting out a tired sigh, she dropped into a chair near the door. Her eyes were glued to the wood, her mind filled with thoughts of Geralt. She wondered if he was alright and if he was missing her as much as she was missing him. 

And just like that, the cycle continued, his departure leading the way to the stage of uncertainty and worry that grew in her with each passing day as she awaited his return. Her eyes remained glued to the door at all times, her ears attentive to the sounds waiting to hear Roach's footsteps approaching in the distance. She hated this moment. She hated not hearing from Geralt. She hated not being able to hear his low, raspy voice or feel the warmth of his body against hers. She hated the amount of energy she wasted worrying about him. But most of all, she hated knowing that all her suffering would be worth it the moment he came knocking on her door again.

I have more ideas for these two so if you guys like it let me know!

PART 2 HERE

[sweetiecutie]

Yandere Draco Malfoy headcanons

Warnings: yandere behavior, toxic relationships, bullying, obsession, sexual implications but nothing is described, mention of anxiety and depression

Draco is a spoiled brat. Since birth, whenever he wanted something - it was delivered to him in a matter of hours - maximum a few days - in a fancy box decorated with huge sparkly bow on top of it. So when you, to his great astonishment, instead of throwing yourself at him tell him to go fuck himself - Draco gets pissed (and extremely anxious)

It’d be just perfect if you were a pureblood - absolutely no restraints for Draco in courting and spending time with you. If you happened to be a half-blood - he’d be extremely conflicted, but eventually just going so far as forging your personal documents, claiming that you’re a descent of an ancient pureblood family that happened to go missing due to a drastic accident and then being ‘found’ and ‘adopted’ by your parents. Same would go to a muggleborn darling, but I doubt he’d even pay attention to them in a first place

Draco grew up in environment where arranger marriages had always been an expected and usual thing, personal preferences and actual feelings rarely being involved; his parents had never felt anything but revulsion and loathing for each other - Draco’s idea of love is extremely twisted. Love, in his understanding, is when you’re official - when everyone in the family, school, country and world knows that you’re together, tied by strong bond of marriage. That’s what he’d been taught, that’s what he strongly believes in

That leads to Draco spreading rumors all around school about you two being in a relationship, even though it’s obviously a lie. He doesn’t need you to agree with all his stories - you may deny everything as much as you want but eventually everyone in Hogwarts will know that you two are involved with each other in some way. Even if some students don’t believe all the rumors going around, they would think twice before approaching you, not wanting to deal with Draco and his buddies

His logic is pretty much “If I can’t have you - no one can”. If you happened to have a partner - not for long. Once again, Draco would spread nasty lies about you constantly cheating on your S/o with him, and oh boy, can this man be persuasive. Soon enough your partner would be so fed up or simply ashamed of being in relationship with you, breaking up on you not even a few months in dating. And that would happen again and again with every one of your little silly love interests until you finally give up and come crawling to Draco since, well, he’s basically the only person in the whole castle offering you comfort and company

Draco is mean. He doesn’t know how to express his fondness and love obsession so he tries doing so through the ways already known to him - bullying. Snarky comments and snickering seem to accompany your every smallest movement, pale eyes being always fixated on you, waiting, praying for you to make at least one smallest mistake so that he’d finally have a reason to approach you, even if it’s to humiliate you

He’d deluge you with presents, basically trying to buy your affection. Anything you want - you get it. You like that sweater that doesn’t cost a quarter of its actual price - it will be lying on your bed neatly folded, a note attached to it saying “It would look better laying on my bedroom floor”. Want a diamond ring - of course, my dear, as many as you wish, but only after official “I Do”. You want ten liters of Unicorn’s bile - “Ew, that’s bloody gross. Here you go, fucking weirdo” - hands you four bottles filled with dark brown liquid. Where the hell did he even get it from? You said it just to test his limits

Even if you do eventually agree to step into relationship with Draco which is more of an act of pity, let’s be honest his behavior won’t get any better. Yeah, he stops with bullying for sure, but his obsession seems to only get worse the more time you spend together. Draco would become extremely possessive, to an extend where someone else looking at you for longer than a few second would send Draco into an ugly tantrum, shouting accusations and threats at everyone around

That leads to thus little number of friends you had reducing to absolute zero - them being too afraid or simply sick of Draco and his constant blackmailing and threats, leaving you all alone in his clutches. Being friends with you becomes simply too dangerous for others

He’ll follow you everywhere. Wherever you are, it seems like Draco and his little squad is always a few meters afar, watching you closely. It gets even worse once you two are ‘dating’ - Draco is like a chewing gum stuck in your hair - impossible to get rid of. You do your homework - he’s right by your side, flipping the pages of your book over when you ask. You’re getting ready to take a shower - he’s already shirtless and undoing his pants “Don’t you care about saving water and environment? Y/n, penguins are dying!”

Constantly touches you. And if you don’t like it or feel uncomfortable with his touch - too bad, Draco doesn’t care. “Darling, don’t fucking resist me. You’re only making it worse for yourself” And that’s true, it’s better to have contended and happy Draco snuggled into you rather than a furious and annoyed one, tightly wrapping his huge hand around your neck

His mood swings are just something. One moment he may be all cuddly and snuggly, looking at you like a lovesick puppy, and the other - he’s frowning and snarling insults, words are pure poison. And just five minutes later he crawls back with the saddest expression on his face, “Sorry, I got really upset, I thought you were thinking about that scumbag Potter again🥺👉🏻👈🏻” - “Draco, how the fuck can you know what I was thinking about?!”

He’d never physically hurt you because, well, Draco is a pussy. The maximum is pressing you against the wall with his hand around your throat, not choking but just holding you in place while glaring down at your smaller form. All the damage that he causes is mostly emotional. You’d definitely develop paranoia because of his constant stalking, feeling as if even walls have eyes and ears, intently watching your every move. Constant anxiety caused by Draco’s harsh words and treatment, may lead to deep depression

From the good things - he’s really eager to please you. As I said - whatever you want - you get, even if that’s not a material thing. Fame, power, influence - all of that is real and you can get it easily by simply being with him. But the more Draco gives you, the more demanding he gets - everything has its price. At first simple affection will be the greatest repay, but the older you both get - the more sexual turn it all gets

Draco would go absolutely insane during the summer break. He’ll be writing you a few times a day, demanding an answer from you containing a detailed description of your day, who you were talking to and all the conversations themselves. He’d defo get a pair of those double ended mirrors for you two (Wizarding FaceTime lmao) so he can see your beautiful face and hear that lovely voice of yours. And oh, don’t you dare not responding to his tenth call of a day - it’ll end up in a biggest tantrum

His parents noticing Draco’s obsession way too late, not being able to fix nor influence son’s unhealthy behavior. Narcissa tries to reason with her son, cool his eagerness and patroon a bit down, for the sake of both him and you. But Draco sees that as a betrayal, his twisted mind turning it into his family trying to turn you against him, to take you away from him. Now he sees it all - he doesn’t need their approval nor their blessing, he’ll have it his way anyways. It ends with Draco basically forcing marriage upon you, doing what he’s been longing for all these years - claiming you as his, so that no one could ever doubt the special bound you two have

After all, you two were always meant to be

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Writers live off feedback!💖

[astrojulia]

Tarot Cards as Professions

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Major Arcanas:

The Fool: Work with abroad, connections with imports, language teacher, multinationals, entrepreneur, intern, college student, art major.

The Magician: Entrepreneur, job that needs skill with the hands (acupuncture, hairdresser, artisan), actor, salesperson, influencer.

The High Priestess: Education, especially children, nutrition, psychology, cook, housewife, food engineering, toy factory, fortuneteller, spiritual advisor, librarian.

The Empress: Management, business administration, foreign trade, secretariat, translation, decoration, stay-at-home mom, model, cook, farmer.

The Emperor: Business administration, work related to areas of technological innovation, the military or sportsmen, CEO, tycoon.

The Hierophant: Philanthropic areas, ONGs, religious work, social work, diplomacy, and a degree, journalism, writer, editor, priest, spiritual guru, politician.

The Lovers: Sales area in any sector, tourism, theater, advertising, the arts in general, porn star, stripper, masseuse.

The Chariot: Activities related to transport, cars, the latest technology, chauffeur, mechanic, athlete.

Strength: Aesthetics, physical education and various body therapies, medicine, zoologist.

The Hermit: Teacher, writer, doctor, antique dealer, restorer, librarian, gardener.

Wheel of Fortune: Financial market, exchange offices, casinos, lottery houses, stock exchanges, and areas related to public relations, hospitality, game show host.

Justice: Public jobs, won through competitions, politics, police, with government positions, in the diplomatic area, law, insurance company worker.

The Hanged Man: Nurse, auditor, inspector, porter, secretariat, general assistants, yoga instructor, prison guard, philanthropist.

Death: Doctor, farmer, geologist, business administrator, gardener, accountant, assassin, death row executioner, surgeon.

Temperance: Working with liquids in general or with what is transported in liquid form such as alcoholic beverages, medicines, juices. chemist, chef, food critic, regional or even international traffic.

The Devil: Does not limit the individual to a professional wing, so he can also go to extremes for the desire he has, such as landlord, drug lord, sex trafficker.

The Tower: Social assistance, humanitarian aid, medicine, firefighter, police officer, construction worker.

The Star: Music, painting, sculpture, poetry, cinema, makeup artist, dressmaker, beautician, agent, promoter, sound artist, astronomer, harpist, dealer, meteorologist.

The Moon: Oceanographers, sailors, fishermen, owners of bars and restaurants or nightclubs, artists in general, medium, hypnotist, psychiatrist.

The Sun: Motivational speaker, entertainer, comedian, social relationships, work with the public, artist in general, member of society.

Judgment: Work done at home, connection with the law, lawyer, judge, work with disabled or people excluded from society, social assistance, board member, executive producer, director.

The World: Pharmacist, massage therapist, scientist, teacher, community leader, religious leader or priest, fashion designer, makeup artist, interior decorator.

Wands:

Creative industries such as advertising, marketing, and graphic design.

Entrepreneurship and starting your own business.

Athletics, sports coaching, or physical training.

Outdoor jobs like park ranger or tour guide.

Event planning or organizing.

Firefighters or rescue workers.

Ace of Wands: Entrepreneur, startup founder, motivational speaker, fitness coach, personal trainer.

Two of Wands: Business strategist, project manager, travel agent, international consultant, import/export specialist.

Three of Wands: Sales representative, marketing manager, e-commerce entrepreneur, market researcher, international trade coordinator.

Four of Wands: Event planner, wedding coordinator, party organizer, festival manager, hospitality industry professional.

Five of Wands: Conflict resolution specialist, mediator, lawyer, debate coach, competitive sports coach.

Six of Wands: Public relations manager, spokesperson, social media influencer, motivational speaker, winning athlete.

Seven of Wands: Defense attorney, human rights activist, political campaigner, advocate, civil liberties lawyer.

Eight of Wands: Courier, delivery driver, airline pilot, travel blogger, expedition guide.

Nine of Wands: Security guard, bodyguard, soldier, endurance athlete, self-defense instructor.

Ten of Wands: Overworked entrepreneur, project manager, event organizer, professional organizer, heavy equipment operator.

Page of Wands: Assistant in a creative field, aspiring artist, intern in a startup, social media coordinator, apprentice.

Knight of Wands: Travel journalist, adventure tour guide, professional athlete, race car driver, stunt performer.

Queen of Wands: CEO, business owner, charismatic leader, life coach, influential speaker.

King of Wands: Executive manager, entrepreneur, leadership coach, consultant, director of a creative agency.

Cups:

Counseling, therapy, or social work.

Hospitality industry, including restaurant management and bartending.

Wedding planner or event coordinator.

Artistic fields like poetry, writing, or acting.

Healing professions such as nursing or holistic therapy.

Psychologist or counselor specializing in emotions and relationships.

Ace of Cups: Therapist, counselor, social worker, holistic healer, emotional support specialist.

Two of Cups: Marriage counselor, matchmaker, relationship coach, wedding planner, love psychic.

Three of Cups: Event organizer, party planner, celebratory event coordinator, community organizer.

Four of Cups: Meditation teacher, mindfulness coach, spiritual counselor, psychologist, therapist.

Five of Cups: Grief counselor, trauma therapist, hospice worker, emotional healing practitioner, bereavement support.

Six of Cups: Child psychologist, teacher, daycare worker, children's book author, pediatric nurse.

Seven of Cups: Creative writer, fantasy novelist, imaginative artist, dream analyst, visionary.

Eight of Cups: Travel blogger, adventure seeker, spiritual pilgrim, explorer, wanderlust photographer.

Nine of Cups: Life coach, happiness consultant, gratitude coach, self-help author, wellness retreat organizer.

Ten of Cups: Family therapist, marriage and family counselor, foster care advocate, wedding planner, family mediator.

Page of Cups: Creative writer, artist in training, intuitive healer, aspiring therapist, dream interpreter.

Knight of Cups: Actor, romantic poet, musician, art therapist, love and relationship coach.

Queen of Cups: Psychic reader, intuitive healer, counselor, compassionate caregiver, therapist.

King of Cups: Therapist, counselor, intuitive mentor, emotional intelligence trainer, psychologist.

Swords:

Legal professions like lawyers, judges, or law enforcement officers.

Journalists, reporters, or investigators.

IT specialists, computer programmers, or hackers.

Teachers or professors specializing in critical thinking or philosophy.

Military or defense-related careers.

Strategic planners or analysts.

Ace of Swords: Lawyer, judge, legal consultant, investigative journalist, strategic planner.

Two of Swords: Mediator, conflict resolution specialist, negotiator, diplomat, relationship counselor.

Three of Swords: Divorce lawyer, grief counselor, trauma therapist, emotional healer, heart surgeon.

Four of Swords: Rest and relaxation specialist, meditation teacher, spiritual retreat organizer, yoga instructor.

Five of Swords: Military strategist, competitive sports coach, lawyer specializing in litigation, debate coach.

Six of Swords: Travel agent, relocation consultant, therapist specializing in transitions, boat captain.

Seven of Swords: Private investigator, spy, intelligence analyst, cybersecurity expert, undercover agent.

Eight of Swords: Social justice lawyer, human rights advocate, disability rights activist, therapist specializing in limiting beliefs.

Nine of Swords: Insomnia specialist, anxiety therapist, nightmare counselor, sleep coach, mental health counselor.

Ten of Swords: Surgeon, coroner, forensic scientist, mortician, grief counselor.

Page of Swords: Researcher, journalist, fact-checker, apprentice in a legal field, investigative reporter.

Knight of Swords: Military officer, police officer, attorney, competitive fencer, conflict resolution specialist.

Queen of Swords: Judge, lawyer, critic, journalist, literary agent.

King of Swords: Judge, attorney, CEO, strategist, military general.

Pentacles:

Financial advisors or investment bankers.

Real estate agents or property developers.

Agriculture, farming, or gardening.

Architects, builders, or construction workers.

Conservationists or environmentalists.

Accountants or bookkeepers.

Ace of Pentacles: Financial advisor, investment banker, wealth manager, entrepreneur, luxury goods retailer.

Two of Pentacles: Financial analyst, accountant, bookkeeper, event planner, stock trader.

Three of Pentacles: Architect, contractor, project manager, teamwork facilitator, craftsman.

Four of Pentacles: Wealth manager, investor, financial planner, asset protection specialist, treasurer.

Five of Pentacles: Social worker, philanthropist, charity organizer, financial counselor, volunteer.

Six of Pentacles: Philanthropist, humanitarian worker, non-profit manager, social worker, charitable fundraiser.

Seven of Pentacles: Gardener, farmer, agricultural consultant, sustainability expert, botanist.

Eight of Pentacles: Craftsperson, artisan, apprentice, skilled tradesperson, technical trainer.

Nine of Pentacles: Luxury brand manager, independent business owner, successful entrepreneur, vineyard owner, art collector.

Ten of Pentacles: Real estate developer, property investor, family business owner, generational wealth manager, financial advisor.

Page of Pentacles: Intern, student, apprentice in a practical field, aspiring entrepreneur, entry-level employee.

Knight of Pentacles: Accountant, financial planner, farmer, skilled tradesperson, meticulous worker.

Queen of Pentacles: CEO, business owner, property developer, hospitality industry entrepreneur, financial advisor.

King of Pentacles: CEO, business mogul, successful investor, high-level executive, financial consultant.

(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved

[thesharktanksdriver]

Sharky throws hands Fins (Platonic)

Part 1 part 3 part 4 part 5

@crazyfandomist Maybe a request!! Sharky goes out on a mission with them and they see Sharky doing the up most terrifying take down along with a good scare of when they get hit by a bullet? Of course Sharky is fine but now they’re in lockdown till they’re fully healed

You asked and you shall receive. Really like this request and decided to go the full mile. You guys can expect some more Sharky stuff with shadow company and eventually some other stuff.

If there’s one thing that the entire squad of 141 can agree on it’s that your a bit of a wild card

A wild shark as Soap would joke in the heli as it landed and everyone felt the true weight of their guns now in their hands

They knew you were rambunctious, a bit of a hot head and maybe a bit fucked in the head from the shit you constant spouted out

But this was a whole new level of bullshitery that they had to unpack

It all started out as a relatively normal mission that turned into yet another battlefield

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Intel was wrong and everyone walked into a trap that lead them all to scatter for cover

Like the others you ran, your smaller form being able to be somewhat ignored by the enemies as dust clouded the air

Sadly though even with this you got shot in the scuffle and now had to deal with the pain that rumbled through you

Adrenaline was kicking in now but you still took the time to try and deal with you wound as best you could with limited resources

Seems like Ghosts’s gorilla warfare class actually came to good use unlike algebra like your teaches insisted

Hushed cursed words fall from your mouth as you climb the stairs of an old decrepit home, carefully placing each step in case of any trip wires

“Kid you alright?!” Seems like your com wasn’t broken, that’s good but what isn’t is the amount of worrying that was gonna make Price’s hair go grey. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” You try to hid the smile hidden in your voice as you role your eyes. You hear a sigh of relief on the other end, you continue through the empty home before getting to the top floor that contained some extra ammo that you nabbed.

“Where are you?”

“Old house. Looks like something from a horror movie?, Texas chainsaw vibes honestly. Wonder if they’ll have the dead teenagers as well”

You get a array of different responses over the live that makes you giggle as you look out the broken window

Seems like they’ve made good work, most of who’s left are dropping like flies to the shared effort of everyone else

A once yellow and dusty ground painted a rouge red by a liquid your so familiar with now

Through a gust of wind you notice a form

You instantly recognize it’s not price, too small, not ghost, not as bulky, not Gaz, not as slim, and not soap, doesn’t have the swagger in his step

Oh and they aren’t wearing the same uniform

That was probably a better identifier but by now you had memorialized your teammates and it was easier to identify people by that alone

He had his back turned to the house, hiding behind a small rusted over car as he gazed out its windows with his gun raised

Oh hell no

You get closer to the window you spied out of, pulling out your knife as you placed a foot on the windowsill

You could just shot the guy, it would be quick and easy but you decided to bite the bullet today

You’d seen ghost do something similar once and had to admit it was pretty badass

Probably something someone would put into some “top ten badass military moments” list by watchmojo or something

He’s unfocused and not paying attention to his surroundings

He’s dead before he even realizes you jumped from the second story window

Knife plunging into him as you wrap yourself around him, legs squeezing his waist and one arm pulling his head back allowing his throat to be open season

Like a scythe reaping a crop, he’s left falling to the ground with the spoil of your reaping

A curtain of red spouting from his neck as it stained the ground and your blade

You get up with terracotta coloured dust sticking to your fingertips like cheeto dust with a mixture of blood

Your then meet with your slack jawed team mates all of whom glanced from his corpse to you, to his corpse and then to your bleeding arm

Shit

Safe to say they all have varying reactions and are all not very happy about you lying about being ok

Ghost is a mixture of annoyance, anger and some slight sliver of pride

He’s not happy about you lying about not being harmed in the events of the attack

For fucks sake it could’ve hit something vital and you could’ve died before they got there

It makes him realize how your reliance on yourself is both a blessing and curse that they need to find a balance on

But on the other hand….nice

Listen, he’s still bloody pissed and is giving you a good old British style verbal smack down but he has to admit he’s very proud at watching that takedown

Yours was slightly adjusted to suit you better but it worked like a charm

Makes the old man proud even if he’s still vibrating from anger

It kinda makes him worried at the same time though since it shows your being influenced by him

He’s afraid you’ll become like him, lose that annoyingly bright smile of yours that never failed to lift him from the trenches of his mind

He knows he can’t protect you from the hardships of this job, the crusted blood on you is a reminder of that

But, keyword is but, he will do everything in his power to protect the one last semblance of good in his life

After he simmers a bit he eventually ends up pulling you into his arms, hands slightly shaking

His grip is strong as he holds you, a hand gently maneuvering itself to cradle your head carefully. As if your made of glass. “Please don’t do that again” he sounds painfully fragile, a thin wooden house that can be destroyed by a simple breeze. “I can’t lose you kid. So please don’t do stupid shit like that again or become like me…aight Sharky?” it sounds less like a command and more like him pleading. You pull back slightly and nod, watching as hidden eyes that were surrounded by black voids became slightly wet. It smudges the black makeup around his eyes as you return the hug.

Price as you can expect is pissed and worried like ghost

Like he’s going full on disappointed dad mode as holds your hand in med bay as a nurse removes the bullet

Your grounded for the next 2 weeks

No amount of whining will be able to guilt nor change his mind. Don’t test him cause he may extend it if you try to weasel your way out of this

He frequently checks up on your wound making sure it’s healing correctly

Him along with Laswell are the ones who help you change bandages and disinfect it from time to time

Doesn’t want to admit it but he Almost had a heart attack when he realized you were shot and still proceeded to jump out a 2 story building

100% pulls you into his office after you got your wound properly patched up and have you a serious talking to

It’s moreso about why you had lied to them about being fine when you were short

It’s then on like ghost he realizes this could become a reoccurring issue if he doesn’t do anything about it

He personally teaches you how to properly treat yourself with limited supplies

And also teaches you the importance of relying on your teammates

Plus how important it is to not ignore what can look like a simple bullet wound

He probably opens up a bit, telling you an experience he had when he was younger. How something similar happened to a friend of his who thought it was nothing but paid for it in the end

It sticks better than most of his angry comments since you can see genuine fear in his eyes

You nod, getting a sigh in return from him as he settles down in his cushioned leather chair

Cigar smoke lingers up in the air as Price taps it against his ashtray, you notice that there’s more ash than usual piled up in it. “Do you get why it’s important now?” His voice is stern as usual but you can see a hint of vulnerability in it, shining through the cracks of his built up walls. “Yes sir” at this be nods, a smile finally finding a place on his face as he adds “good. other than that you did good out there, great takedown. now your still in lockdown but you allowed to train with some limitations”. The praise makes you smile and has a surge of pride claw at you.

Soap is low key still kinda concerned but he’d be a hypocrite to say he hadn’t done the same before

Only difference is that he hasn’t gotten caught…often

He swears Ghost is like a fucking blood hound cause that’s the only reason why he’s been caught hiding a wound

On the way back to base he’s two seconds away from complimenting your takedown until he gets the side eye from both Price and Ghost which shits him up

Well shuts him up until he visits you that night

Kinda has to sneak to you room but once he gets there he’s full on pat on the back and taking nonstop

He suggests you teach him lol

Probably jokes at one point that ghost is jealous that you do it better and that why he’s all pissy

While he isn’t upset about what happened he still suggest not to be stupid (like him) and hide stuff like that often

He tries to convince Price to get body cams but he shuts that down sadly

No watchmojo top ten sadly nor one of those military propaganda TikTok’s

To make you possibly feel better about getting shot and getting a scar from it he tells you about all the scars he got

Going into detail with each and maybe making up a few fake stories to make them more interesting rather than “I feel down the stairs and then laid there face down for 15 minutes before their found me”

Though to be honest that would probably be funnier but he has his pride to keep intact

Pokes your wound which leads you to slap his hand

During your grounding he gets you some dvd’s and give you his Netflix password (despite the fact you already have Netflix)

You cancel your subscription and now mooch off of him

Your profile is named “parasite” due to this

Sends you a lot of TikTok’s that he thinks will lift your mood

Likes to spend his free time In Your room in your mountain of shark and ocean animals plushies

For once he lets you play with his hair

Your hands rank through Soaps hair as the sound of a random Netflix documentary plays in the background. He’s leaned back, head resting in your hands as you use hair clips and hair tied to mess with his hair. He lets out a small chuckle when you mumble that “i bet with this look you’d be the prettiest princess of them all”, it also receives an eye roll from him as he clutches one of your many shark plushies.

Gaz is kinda a mixture of soap and Price. Like that was rad as fuck but at the same time wtf are you doing walking around with a gunshot wound

Honestly the most neutral about it

Like he pats you on the shoulder for how impressive that was but he’s also telling you please not ignore wounds next time

Like Soap he visits you during your grounding and makes sure to tell you what happened

Probably tries to lessen the blow by being “nah nothing much had been happening on those missions your not missing much”

Give you free reign to go in his room and play on his Xbox while he’s gone

Might’ve even bought a few extra games to keep you busy

Also delivers snacks

He constantly checks to make sure your wound is ok despite the fact you told him Price and Laswell check up on it

Listen he’s just worried and can’t sleep easy after seeing a soldier a year back getting a nasty infection and dying

Doesn’t tell you about this though since he doesn’t want to worry you about it

He doodles on your skin in his free time with crayola wash markers

Their all fun little drawings of the team, their actually well down in a cute but simple kinda way

You might be tempted to actually get it tattooed

And might’ve done it impulsively so when he got back he’s confused as to why one of his drawings seemingly stuck

When he finds out though he slam it cries cause he finds it really heartfelt

Seems like this forced vacation wasn’t bad after all except for ghost bonking you in the head for getting something like that done without a second thought

Ghost admittedly does think it’s a cute tattoo and has a nice meaning but still, he urges you to tell at least him next time so he can take you to his tattoo artist

Gaz now colours in your tattoo with those same Crayola markers for fun with a giant smile

“Fuck I can’t believe you actually got this done” he says taking out a blue blueberry scented marker, the smell is strongly synthetic but it brings back a lot of memories. “Worth it though!, I now have your hat permanently on my body” he makes a face from that which makes you laugh, his brows crinkling up ever so slightly.

“Please don’t phrase it like that “

[ihatealimore]

Honey Whiskey

(word count: 2,135)

As Kurapika sits beside Leorio at the bar, he observes his friend chatting energetically while downing a mug of beer quickly. Occasionally, Leorio flashes a wink at the bartender or any woman who approaches the general vicinity of the bar.

Initially having no intention to drink himself, Kurapika finds his resolve wavering when Leorio brings up how (Y/N) would often join him for drinks. Perhaps indulging in one or two beverages wouldn't be such a bad idea after all...

"How's your drink, Kurapika? Do you like it?" Leorio prods him after finishing his beer and setting the glass back down on the bar.

Kurapika picks up the glass of whiskey his friend had ordered for him, examining the transparent liquid with an indifferent gaze. He takes a small sip, the drink burning down his throat and making his eyes water slightly, "It's strong."

Leorio easily became distracted by the bartender taking his empty glass and walking away. He turns in his chair to face Kurapika, hopefully asking, "Oh, do you think she would give me her number?"

The blonde-haired man casts a glance towards the bartender then back at Leorio who keeps trying to make flirty eye contact with her. He sighs lightly and takes another sip of his whiskey, "Leorio," He starts in his usual stern tone, "Your chances would be better if you behaved more maturely."

"You're so mean," Leorio pouts, crossing his arms petulantly, which was really only proving Kurapika's point, "Girls like me! I haven't gotten anyone's number yet but-"

Kurapika interrupts him with a smirk, "Failing to get any numbers isn't exactly convincing evidence in your favor, is it?" 

The alcohol was starting to loosen his normally iron grip on his composure.

"You'll see!" Leorio chugs down another mug of beer, earning a chuckle from his friend, "What about you and (Y/N)? What's going on there?"

Kurapika's laughter quickly fades at the mention of your name and his gaze drops to his own drink, "There's nothing going on," He responds stiffly, avoiding Leorio's teasing gaze.

"But she talks about you a lot and it seems like you guys spend a lot of time together," Leorio is quick to point out to him.

The Kurta takes a moment to process Leorio's words, his grey eyes flickering with surprise. He had never realized you talked about him outside of work, let alone 'a lot.' 

"She... Talks about me?" He questions slowly.

"Yeah, all the time!"

"Really?" Kurapika's eyebrows went up, a rare show of surprise on his normally impassive face. He takes another sip from his drink to hide the sudden flush on his cheeks.

As the night progresses, Kurapika indulges in a few more drinks, thinking he knows his limit. He was wrong. He finds himself thoroughly intoxicated, while Leorio roams the crowded bar, talking to anyone who will look his way.

A presence in the seat beside him and an all too familiar voice draws his attention, "Kurapika, I didn't expect to see you here."

He turns to see none other than (Y/N) smiling at him, your eyes twinkling with amusement, "(YN)," Kurapika greeted, a bit too enthusiastically and louder than he had intended.

His mind is swirling but he's able to recognize your voice instantly. How strange. He needs to regain control of himself before you realize how drunk he is.

"Leorio dragged you here, huh?" You remark with a chuckle, flagging down the bartender to order a drink, "Is that whiskey? I'm surprised."

Trying to regain some sense of control over his inebriated state, Kurapika responds a little more defensively than he meant to, "Leorio wanted company and... It's not bad."

"Let's agree to disagree. Whiskey is disgusting," You say as you take your own drink from the bartender, thanking them before taking a sip.

Despite his drunken state, Kurapika finds himself chuckling along, playfully stating, "Then I suppose it's a good thing I'm the one drinking it."

"We can agree on that. I figured you weren't much of a drinker," You muse with a teasing grin.

"I'm not... Usually," He admits as he lets his gaze drift towards you, "But it seems there's something about being around you and Leorio that encourages such behavior."

You can't help but let a laugh slip from your lips, "Mostly Leorio though, right?" You wonder as your eyes scan the bar, trying to spot him, "He wandered off and left you here, huh?"

Kurapika nods, more as a confirmation to himself than to you, "Yes, typical Leorio," He mutters with a faint smile on his lips.

"Very typical," You finally make eye contact with Leorio from across the bar, offering him a friendly wave.

A sudden, unexpected pang of jealousy flares up in Kurapika's chest. It's a new and confusing sensation that he quickly tries to dismiss, "(Y/N)," He finds himself blurting out without thinking, "I don't want you to look at Leorio."

He surprised himself with his burst of possessiveness. It seems the alcohol is revealing parts of him even he wasn't aware existed. But it also feels genuine. He wonders if this feeling has been hiding somewhere deep inside all along.

"Eh?" You tilt your head in confusion, your brow furrowed, "Why's that? Did he do something stupid?"

"No, it's just..." He hesitates before leaning in closer, his inebriated mind deciding to spill everything, "I want you here with me," He confesses, his eyes locked on yours.

Your eyes widen in surprise before a knowing smile forms on your lips, "Oh, I get it. You're drunk, aren't you?"

Caught off guard, he blinks at you a few times before laughing weakly. His face flushes more than it already was from the alcohol as he admits, "Hmm, maybe."

A chuckle escapes your lips at his hesitant admission, "I never thought I'd see the day."

"Neither did I," He replies, finding himself smiling back at you, "It's strange but not entirely unpleasant."

"It's cute, you know," You begin, "To see you act more open. And maybe even a little jealous?"

"Cute?" He echoes, his brows knitting together at the unfamiliar word. At your insinuation, his face turned a darker shade of pink, "I... Maybe."

No one has ever described him as cute before. And you noticed the jealousy too. Maybe it was more obvious than he thought.

"Don't worry," You reassure him, setting your hand on top of his, "You have my full attention."

He stares at your hand on his, his mind swimming in a heady mixture of alcohol and emotions. With a small nod, Kurapika responds softly yet sincerely, "Thank you, (Y/N)."

You take another sip of your drink, adding, "I'm all ears. We can talk about anything you would like."

He blinks at you, feeling a slight sobering effect from your words. He isn't sure why but he trusts you in this moment more than anyone else, "I want to talk about us."

Is this what people call 'liquid courage'?

"Us?" You contemplate, "What about us?"

"Well..." The Kurta begins, fumbling for words. His inebriated mind is struggling to find the right ones until he finally manages to say, "I suppose... How we feel about each other."

You're caught off guard by his words, speechless for a moment before nodding, "Sure, but are you okay to talk about this while drunk? I don't want you to say anything you'll regret."

"I... I think it's okay," He mutters, not quite trusting himself but feeling like he needs to say this, "I want you to know how much I appreciate your presence in my life."

Even if the words are slurred and uncertain, they come from a place deep within him, one that holds enormous respect and affection for you. It doesn't matter if it's alcohol-induced or not. These feelings are real.

You find yourself smiling at him reverently, the next words falling from your lips easily, "The feeling is mutual."

Hearing those words from you, Kurapika can't help but feel a sense of relief washing over him. He offers you an appreciative smile in return and whispers softly, "I'm glad," Watching you take another sip of your beverage, he bites his tongue in vain, unable to stop the next words from slipping out of his mouth, "(Y/N), I feel more than just appreciation for you. Much more."

"Much more?" You question him, echoing his confession. 

Kurapika takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the dizziness brought on by his sudden admission, "I think I might have feelings for you."

The words are out in the open now and there's no taking them back. As terrifying as it is, part of him feels relief, maybe because they were so long overdue.

Silence hangs in the air around him for a lingering moment until you look up from your drink, your eyes boring deeply into his, "I'm glad it's not just me then."

His heart pounds loudly in his chest as he digests your words. A smile slowly spreads across Kurapika's face, visible relief wrapping around him, "You feel the same?"

He never allowed himself to entertain this possibility but you have feelings for him too? It feels like a dream, too good to be true. Yet, it's real.

"Is that surprising?"

"A bit, yes," Kurapika admits, his honesty shining through even in his drunken state, "I didn't think someone like me could evoke such feelings."

You raise an eyebrow at his statement, wondering, "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean... Someone who is so focused on their past, and vengeance, and," He pauses momentarily before murmuring, "Someone who doesn't know how to love or be loved."

He has always been aware of his shortcomings when it comes to emotional connections. But having them brought to the surface like this makes him feel vulnerable yet eager at the same time.

"But those things don't define you, Kurapika. I like you for who you are," You explain, setting your drink down to take both of his hands in yours, "You're intelligent, stubborn, annoyingly so sometimes. But most of all, you're caring and kind."

His heart warms at your words, a genuine smile tugging at his lips, "You really think so?"

"I know so. You're someone that means a lot to me," You confess, squeezing his hands gently while maintaining eye contact.

"And you..." Kurapika begins, his gaze softening, "You're strong, resilient. You have this knack for understanding people that's truly remarkable. Despite your own stubborn nature," He gives a small chuckle at the thought, "You are incredibly patient and kind-hearted."

"That's very sweet of you," You respond with a smile, feeling touched by his words.

"You're beautiful, (Y/N)," He adds hesitantly, his heart pounding in his chest, "Not just outwardly but your soul too. The way you handle situations with grace and understanding, the strength that shines through when times are tough. It's all incredibly captivating."

It feels both invigorating and terrifying to be this open about his feelings towards you. But seeing you smile at his words makes it all worth it. You've always been his pillar of support when things get tough, someone he deeply cares about.

"I like seeing this side of you," You muse softly, "Drunk Kurapika is a real sweet talker."

Kurapika gives an amused chuckle at this, nodding in acceptance, "Well, I can't promise this sweet-talking version of me will stick around once the effects wear off, but it's nice to know you aren't entirely opposed to it."

"Not at all," You reassure him, "Though I do wonder how much of this you'll remember in the morning."

Kurapika lets out a hushed sigh, raking his fingers through his blonde locks, "I'm not sure. But if I forget... Would you remind me of this conversation?"

"Of course, I will," You agree with a nod before teasing him with a small smirk, "If you weren't so drunk, I'd be inclined to kiss you."

Kurapika feels his heart skip a beat at your words. He blinks, stunned and somewhat hopeful as he responds weakly, "I am... Not that drunk."

Your suggestion brings an unexpected flutter in his stomach. A mix of excitement and nervousness floods over him at the thought that you might want to kiss him too, just like he has found himself wanting on multiple occasions since you and him started opening up about your emotions towards each other tonight.

You snort out a laugh, "Oh, is that so? Can you say your ABC's backwards?"

"Z, Y..." Kurapika begins before stopping and groaning. His mind is too clouded to think clearly enough for a complex task such as this, "You're asking the impossible, (Y/N)."

"That's adorable," You reach out to ruffle his hair playfully, "I appreciate your attempt."

He gives a wry smile at your comment, swatting your hand away gently from his hair, "You're enjoying this too much."

"How could I not?" You muse with a laugh, adding, "How about this? I'll owe sober Kurapika a kiss."

Kurapika heart flutters in his chest, "Then I'll make sure to remind you of your promise when I'm sober, (Y/N)."

Even in his increasingly intoxicated state, this one promise from you holds a significant importance for him. A vow that brings forth an exciting anticipation within his chest. Maybe drinking wasn't such a bad idea after all. 

[inmydeepestdreams]

Why did I do it?

I guess I just…wanted to see if it was possible. Yeah, that’s it. I’ve had too much alone time, my thoughts have wandered, and I wanted to see how far my body could go.

It’s science, really. It was science.

Six nights ago, I wanted to see if I could wet the bed.

I’ve never wet the bed, not once in my twenty-seven years. I’ve had close calls, nights after heavy drinking where my brain wakes me up as I reach the brink, but it’s never a problem. The biggest accident I ever had would just be some droplets on the toilet seat. I’m good, my body is trained well.

I am always curious about my own limitations, how I’ll change over time, and just how much I can take before giving in. I guess that’s where I got the idea. Sat in my cubicle, my bladder slightly full. I had just taken a call where a woman yelled at me for ten minutes before realizing she called the wrong company completely.

“You should have told me that!” She yelled and hung up.

So yeah, I was having a tough day and my thoughts were trying to fix my mood.

That’s where I wondered if I could ever wet the bed.

Part of the line of questioning came from the night before. Surprisingly, I woke up uncomfortably needy. I’m usually good about going before I sleep, but I had a lot of water before bed. I had a pee dream where I wet myself in at my desk at work. When my cubicle neighbor, Jenn, came to investigate, my pants were suddenly gone and my dick was on full display.

It was incredibly distressing, and it invaded my waking thoughts.

So anyway, yeah. I decided to test it. Sue me. I’m not hurting anyone, I can do what I want.

When I got home from work, it was a Friday. I immediately shucked off my tie and got a beer from the fridge. I leaned against the kitchen island. My bladder twinged.

Yeah, it was 5:30 and I was already holding. I quit peeing around noon. I figured if it was going to happen, I would have to be more desperate than I ever had been before.

But I wasn’t stupid, I also knew that if I was too full, I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I had to somehow find a balance.

I carried my beer to my bedroom doorway, I stared in at the made bed. I bought plastic mattress coverings, because I’m a responsible scientist. I looked at the bed and excitement ran through me. I really, really wanted to see if I could do this. It was fun.

I spent most of the evening watching TV and scrolling through my phone. Hell of a Friday night, I know. That beer turned into another, but when I finished that, I stopped. I knew I had to pace myself, and I was full enough that I could have started crossing my legs.

I took a quick shower, because I usually do before bed. All that rushing water made my bladder ache. I felt a ripple of something run through me. I put my hand to my abdomen and swore I could feel all the liquid sloshing inside me. As the water beat against my skull, I felt all the piss inside me rush down, as if I were actively trying to pee.

I grabbed my cock, but I wasn’t about to wet myself. Because I didn’t wet myself, not ever. There was no reason to hold on, although squeezing did help with the pressure slightly. I quick torturing myself and shut the shower off, letting go of my dick, which was still vaguely threatened by my bladder.

I had another glass of water before bed, and I climbed on mh crisp, clean sheets around midnight.

Unfortunately, I tossed and turned.

I squeezed my legs together, but my need was too great. I tried lying on every side and found that somehow, laying on my back was the worst.

Stretching out, applying pressure, nothing worked. I had calculated wrong, I was too uncomfortable to relax.

But I was determined to try. I had not spent the entire evening In agony for no reason. I was going to piss my pants, goddamnit. I bought new pajamas for the occasion and everything.

I counted sheep, then listed the to dos of the next day, and finally, finally I felt my eyelids drooping, only after I bent in half, my hand clutching my penis tightly.

I woke up around sometime in the night, a sheen of sweat on my body. My eyes snapped open to the darkness and I tried to recall my dream. I was racing through a corridor, trying every door looking for something.

My bladder was begging me for relief.

I was more full than I had ever been. Ever. I was in pain, officially.

And I was still dry. My phone said it was 4:22 a.m. I failed. There was no way I’d get back to sleep again.

But I was wrong, somehow. I was still exhausted, my bones hurt as if I had actually been racing through a hallway.

As I drifted, and drifted, and drifted, I felt it.

The end of the line.

A steady, light stream of piss hit my boxers.

I sighed, burrowing deeper into the bed. I must not have been thinking straight. That should have been enough to wake me right up.

But I didn’t.

I fell asleep.

Slowly, steadily, I wet myself. It spread up my boxers, past the waistband to my stomach and t-shirt. In my dream, I was standing in a field of daisys. I was wearing, inexplicably, a dress. It was pale blue. My cock was hard, and I had no boxers on. It pressed to the front of the dress, tenting it, and leaving an obvious wet spot when I started to pee.

In the land of the living, I was grinding against my mattress as I peed, it wasn’t soaking in, I was splashing in a growing puddle under me, hard and needy.

I woke up again around six. The sheets were damp, the inside of my boxers were sticky. I was soaking wet.

I sat up quickly, a euphoric smile on my face. I did it! I could do it! I found my limit last night, and I wet the bed!

I laid back down, thinking of the mess I’d have to clean soon.

But it was still early, and I was still sleepy. My bladder, surprisingly, was halfway full. Normally I’d get up and empty it at this time of the morning.

But it was easy to pee my soaked pants a second time, it came right out, no trouble. As if it was normal, as if it was right.

Happy as can be, I went back to sleep, I had a long morning ahead of me.

[missjadesfics]

Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Curry x Reader Request: Yes gif credit: pinterest divider credits: @saradika-graphics Summary: Arthur has a crush on Bruce's younger sister Y/n. Warnings: This is real cutesy stuff, with a small amount of profanity, sexual innuendos from Arthur's side, Aquaman being a dork in love, and Bruce being a protective brother. Word Count: 1.5k Disclaimer: I don't own DC or it's characters, nor do I claim them as my own. Comments likes, and reblogs are always adored and appreciated xx

“Bullshit, you did!” Y/n gasped, slapping Arthur’s chest. Arthur cackled with laughter, throwing his head back. “I did; my brother is a dick; okay, I had no choice”, Arthur shrugged, sipping his Guinness Y/n shook her head in disbelief. “You actually challenged him to a “Ring of Fire.” trial and won?” Y/n raised a brow. Arthur nodded with a toothy grin. “Sure did, baby, and he whined like a baby” He choked on his drink when Bruce walked in with his hands on his hips. “Y/n, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Shit, I thought something happened to you” He hugged his sister tightly Y/n made a grumble. “You were worried about me; how adorable. Arthur, isn’t he adorable?” Y/n giggled, leaning on Arthur’s shoulder. Bruce looked between them with a clenched jaw. “Totally, even though you are more adorable than he is. Don’t worry, Bat, I’ve kept her safe, breathing and unharmed,” Arthur spoke proudly. Bruce narrowed his eyes. 

“Yeah, well, fishboy fun’s over. Y/n, come on, we have that meeting, remember? You are sponsoring the company, and you need to be there,” Arthur grumbled. “It’s actually Fishman” “ he stated as he drank his Guinness. Y/n moaned in annoyance, hitting her head on the bar bench. Arthur choked on his drink and spat out the liquid Y/n laughed. “Unbelievable”, Bruce muttered, grabbing Y/n around the waist and carrying her out. “No, Bruce, I was having fun! Arthur, help me” She stretched her arms. Arthur gulped the last of his drink, put some money on the bench and ran out behind the Wayne siblings. “Come on, Bruce, you spoilt our little session”, Arthur groaned. Bruce told Y/n to get in the car and marched over to Arthur. “I told you my sister is off limits to everyone in the League, especially you, Curry. Don’t make me break your face. I make good on my promises.” Arthur’s humorous demeanour changed, and his eyes hardened as he looked down at Bruce. His height overtakes Bruce slightly. “Try all you want, buddy, but if your sister likes me more than a friend. Then you can’t do anything about it” He grinned, walking away before waving to Y/n in the car, climbing into his truck, starting the engine and driving off.

Bruce climbed into his car and sighed, the fast vehicle taking off. “I told you not to be alone with Arthur. I don’t trust him around you” Y/n frowned at her brother. “Oh yeah, and he’s some playboy like you: different girls, different days, endless dates at fancy dinners. Lavish parties with the most expensive caviar and champagne,” Y/n said. Bruce sighed, parking the car outside the Wayne Tower. “I just don’t want you and Arthur alone, okay? I have my reasons; please respect them. Now come on, let’s get this meeting done.” 

Arthur kept looking at his phone, waiting for Y/n to message or call him. When his phone chimed, he picked it up in haste, and a grin formed on his lips. “Is that her?” His father, Tom, asked with a chuckle. Arthur sighed, falling on the couch. “Pops, I got it bad. She’s like forbidden fruit, right there in front of me. But I can look and not have, you know. I don’t know,” Arthur ran his hand through his hair, and Tom nodded, laughing. “My son is in love with a woman, and I have long awaited for this day to come round. If only your mother were here, she would be loving every moment instead, and she is missing out because she is helping you with Atlantis.” Tom folded his jacket. Arthur leant on his hand. 

“What should I do? “ Bruce has clarified that he doesn’t want me around his sister. But I can’t do it, and it hurts to be away from her, you know. I hate being with her and saying goodbye until I see her again. I want to be able to see her for more than a day. More than a week. Just have her with me,” Tom chuckled, nudging his son. “And when have you ever backed down from a challenge, Arthur? Go prove to Bruce Wayne that you are not like every man walking onto their doorstep. I have seen the way she looks at you, too. It is the same love at first sight I shared with your mother. That love never goes away; it’s rare. And I have never seen you so happy and letting your guard down unless you are around her.” Tom pointed out. Arthur smiled at his father, hugging him tightly. “Thanks, pops, you the best!” He shouted, running out the door. Tom shook his head. “That boy of mine in love. How dangerous,” He said to himself with a chuckle.

Arthur stood on the front steps of Wayne Manor, letting out nervous breaths as he rang the bell. Alfred answered the door as Arthur smiled. “Hi, Mr Pennyworth; I wondered if Bruce was here?” He asked Alfred; the butler nodded, moving aside. “Of course, Mr Curry, I shall tell him you’re here. Shall I inform Miss Wayne also?” He asked, closing the large door. Arthur shook his head. “No, no, just Bruce will be fine” Alfred nodded with a bow, leading Arthur into the main sitting room. Arthur sat on the comfy yet expensive couch, waiting for Bruce, when the eldest Wayne sibling walked in. Arthur stood up and shook Bruce’s hand “Hi Arthur, how can I help you?” Bruce sat across from him as Arthur rubbed his legs. 

“Well, Bruce, I want to talk to you about Y/n. Please just hear me out. I’ve liked your sister for quite some time, and lately, my feelings for her have changed. I’ve realised I love her, and I want you to understand I am not like the other guys who come and go—the ones who only want fun and have no emotional connection. Y/n and I feel something is happening between us, and I think I told her my feelings, and she would reciprocate them. I know you feel the need to protect her from any man that wanders into her life. I get it. Truly, I do. But that is what I want to do for her. Bruce, I promise I will always love, protect, and make her happy. My father has raised me to be a gentleman and respect and honour a woman. Just like he has done and continues to do with my mother.” 

Arthur explained. Bruce kept an emotionless face as Y/n walked into the room. She smiled at the two, and Arthur and Bruce looked at Y/n, hugging her arms, her eyes focused on Arthur. “What’s happening here?” She questioned as Bruce stood up and sighed heavily, looking between his sister and Arthur. “Fine, but if you hurt her one time. One time. I’ll kick your ass,” Bruce threatened. Arthur smiled, nodding as he stood. “I’d like to see you try, but I see where you’re coming from” He shook hands with Bruce before turning his attention to Y/n. She smirked as Arthur grabbed her hand. “Come on, I want to show you something”, he winked. Bruce caught the wink and pointed a finger as the couple ran away. “Don’t you dare have sex on your first date! That is at least a tenth date or more thing!” He exclaimed. Arthur laughed, turning around. “Relax, I know the rules; if we decide to do anything, I’ll make sure we have plenty of protection!” He grinned his joke, making Bruce widen his eyes “ARTHUR RUN!” 

Y/n gasped, pushing her boyfriend out of the door as Bruce chased after them. “You are already making me regret this!” He shouted, watching Arthur’s truck drive away. Bruce folded his arms across his chest. Alfred appeared beside him. “You know, Master Wayne, Mr Curry might be just what your sister needs. He does brighten up the manor when he is around. It’s a nice change of lifestyle. And, of course, you don’t see it, Master Wayne, but there is no finer man for Miss Wayne than Arthur Curry,” Alfred spoke. Bruce looked over his shoulder, a smile appearing on his face. “Yeah, I guess he is. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. I might’ve lied a little back when I said I hated him” Bruce looked to the butler, who nodded in response “I know Master Wayne. I know” 

Arthur drove the truck to his favourite private spot on the beach near his home. He carried Y/n on his back as he ran down to the water Y/n screamed as she fell into the warm water. The bottom of her summer dress was wet. “You doofus!” She splashed Arthur with some water; he grinned, picking her up in his arms. “Yeah, but I’m your doofus now. You’ve got to put up with a lot of me, day in and day out. Twenty-four-seven. Three hundred and sixty-five days of the year.” Arthur smirked Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck, giggling. “I think I can manage that” Arthur kissed her lips passionately, his body falling back onto the sand as Y/n straddled his waist.

“I love you, princess”, Arthur breathed, pushing a loose strand of hair out of Y/n’s face behind her ear. “I love you too, Aquaman”

dt : @hudson-bay-girl because you love Mr Momoa as much as I do 🩷

[stuffymcstuffsworld]

To the root

There are many words to describe the sight before you. Cute, adorable, precious, endearing. But none of them seems to fit just right.

You hold your warm cup of hell grey tea in both hands. Sipping the hot liquid and letting the temperature ease your body. You lean back in your chair and close your eyes. Listening to your company's conversation.

"The petals coloration was beautiful, don't you think?" "The roots seemed to be very healthy as well, I'm sure this specimen will flourish." It was soothing to hear the two demons babbling.

You open your eyes to see both Shichiro and Suzy chatting away. The two geeked out over the Cherry blossom tree Iruma had grown. Comparing notes and taking pictures.

It should be illegal for the pair to be so charming. Maybe this was why you didn't see them speak together so often. Everyone else knew how deadly the combination was and kept them apart for the sake of everyone else's blood pressure.

You pour some more tea into the cups. Suzy was practically in the gargoyles lap as they debated over the unknown properties of the plant. You chuckle.

This causes both demons to look at you. Both seem embarrassed about forgetting your presence. 'Ah, thank you for the meal. I'm eating well today.' You thought cheerfully as you take in the sight.

"Cherry trees are actually common where Iruma and I come from." You smiled as you saw their wide eyes. The curiosity filled them. Watching the two lean closer to you.

Their vines are either consciously or unconsciously starting to surround you to keep you in place. "Then you must know some uses of them, yes?" "Yis, don't be greedy dear, share some knowledge."

"Hmmm, I might be inclined to..." You teased softly. You laugh as you're pounced on by the plant loving duo. The combined weight causes you to fall further into the snare vines.

"Medicine, furniture, food, lotions, there is nothing this tree can't offer." It's true, many purposes came from such a well-rounded specimen. You gaze up at the petals as they float down.

You remember the sweet taste of cherry jam, the scent of cherry blossom perfume. Cultures on earth had used the plant as remedies for who knew how long.

Many humans adored the coloration of cherry wood for their furniture. It was an expensive taste. You soaked in the many questions and answered best you could.

You even gave a demonstration of turning the petals into essential oils. It was amusing to have them drool and rave over your limited knowledge. The gears turning in their heads.

You knew they were going to me running all sorts of experiments on the plant now. It was not something you would see in your old world. People usually did not openly display such enthusiasm to such an extent.

It was something you would remember for a long time. Another precious memory to add to your collection. You hoped many more would come.

[writing-whump]

Can you just hold me

Isaiah with mild food poisoning and Seline with emotional angst.

Isaiah had a lot of friends. Seline did not.

She didn't think it would be a problem. There were her projects, her writing, her carefully watched and hard-earned alone time.

A boyfriend who would find occupations without her and could socialize without making her tag along was good.

It made her wonder if couples were better fits if they were more similar or more complementary. Would she had been happier if he preferred staying at home, reading next to her quietly? Each in their own world, but close enough to touch?

Seline used to be a loner as a kid. First preoccupied with her blooming magic, that came to her once her brother was born and fueled it with his shadow, waking the witch in her.

A witch without traditions or legacy if incantations to learn from, he only connection to anything supernatural only through her grandpa. In a very human family, that was a challenge.

But as a kid, Seline managed to find friends open and curious and happy for her and with her about the magic and the freedom the lack of training gave her. She had not realised it could be a disadvantage. No one told her.

Where other witches learned songs and spells, reciting poems handed down over generations, she was making up her own songs. Or singing Disney songs from Lion King to rain to make it louder, to puddles of water to make it sparkle, the kitchen faucet to make the liquid curl in the air like a glittering snake.

In high school, she had become so engrossed with the magic, with the poems she could make into songs - brand new songs for entirely new purposes, depending on what she was thinking. There was no limit, nothing that couldn't be done or thought, if she could sing the right song to the place and the purpose and the person. Talking with other kids her age, that obsessed over dating, lipsticks and diets seemed entirely useless and boring to her.

Her mother almost had a hearattack on the day Seline told her with straight face, she was not interested in having friends. Such a waste of time. She had not needed them.

Looking back, it fascinated her how she could not need people so much as a teen. How entirely fascinated she could be with her own thoughts and worlds, only books and poems for company. What a little arrogant prick she was.

She started feeling lonely around her first year of university. A straight A student, she dreamed about the university experience, of the degrees her parents had, of being the exceptional smart kid as she always was. Except finding a faculty that would allow her to study what she was interested in was hard. A faculty that wouldn't just have you learn everything by memory, that would let you think and roam and wonder. Where things weren't set by hard facts.

But what could it be? And what use would it be for her?

At was at the time she found the covens. The witch coven in Vienna was designed for young witches from small packs and various families so they could learn and connect and develop their magic before they choose a pack of their own. Witches were very precious for wolves after all. The calming effect on the shadows, the ability of their touch to help instead of make it worse - a good exchange for getting their magic fueled by the wolf shadows.

That's where Seline got to know Felicity.

And Violet and Camille, yes, they were all very art oriented and magical and great. But it was mainly about Felicity.

They hit it off on their first meeting and Seline never felt so understood, so connected, so in synch with another person than with her. A witch with green coloured short hair and huge glasses, that loved digital art and painting, the storytelling in games. That had an amazing emotional empathy and the best sense of humor.

Seline was never this close to a person outside her parents. She never had a friend who understood what writing was for her the way Felicity understood it for her art. She never met anyone who loved the creativity of magic the way Felicity did. The freedom.

Cami and Via taught her about the rules, the expectations, the traditions and higher moral missions of magic and art. The ecosystem of the city filled with packs, how important they were to them.

But Felicity was everything. They spend two years texting each other everyday for hours, making calls on train rides, waiting at each other in the coven's art room, discussing movies. They collected each other's art, spoke about their biggest most secret feelings, their frustrations and fears and visions for the world.

Could you love someone so much, be so intensity tied up with them? Seline loved everything about that intellectual relationship, their hours long conversations, but also the unexpected emotional sharing.

Felicity held her up in her loneliness, in her semesters of fruitlessly trying out law school, in arguing with her parents about the right path, through her insecurities about not being the gifted kid after all and what she could be beyond it.

And Seline, who didn't have a close friend since she was 10, who had not needed or wanted to get close, who found most people stupid and boring, yearned for Felicity's company. She was sure that if she ever managed to fell in love, she would want it to be someone like that.

Things started to change when Seline found cultural sciences. After trying out three different faculties, reading through exam scripts of the most unusual subjects she never ever heard of, after visiting courses of different departments to get a feel for the subjects - she finally found it.

A faculty where you read texts and discussed them. Where they taught you thinking, not facts. Where you could research anything, if you could analyse it and find its practical use for everyday lives of people.

Seline loved it. Loved she could study writing and it's process of creation, bestsellers and why people liked them, the psychology of narratives in political campaigns as well as blockbuster movies. Her world opened each and every day.

Felicity still didn't find a faculty. She wasn't looking, really. She told Seline she just wanted to play games, be with friends and make art from time to time. And getting chosen by a pack would grant it to her.

Seline was a little...taken aback by that. There was so much to find out, to research. Places to travel to, books to write, presentations to make. At uni it was fun talking with people. It was fun getting to know the different perspectives.

Seline didn't know what went wrong or when. Just that they have started to feel...colder. Distant from each other. The day Felicity didn't text her the whole day, she kept glancing at her phone in anxiety every five minutes. There were days of silence after. Felicity ignoring her texts and only talking about herself. Felicity not talking about her like she was her best friend in front of Cami and Via. Felicity playing more games with other friends, too tired and overwhelmed with whatever Seline wanted to tell her.

Maybe that was alright. Maybe they simply wanted different things from life. That was normal. They had many differences between them too, after all. Felicity talked about how bad and broken the world was, when Seline kept seeing the light in it, the possibilities. There were topics in politics where they quietly told each other what they thought and why and then never mentioned it again, out of respect for the other.

And this was the right approach, right? They could still be friends despite the differences, if there was respect and tolerance, right? Even if there wasn't an understanding.

Seline's heart fluttered painfully in her chest, her grip on the seat in the tram tightening.

How sentimental she was being today, just because Mattew was at the gym and Isaiah still had uni. He left early for pack meetings, because of the recent trouble with the Starks.

He always had a mission. Always saving someone. Seline wondered sometimes if, at the end of the day, he would have anything left for her.

She walked the short distance from the stop to the shared apartment.

Many things changed since then. Felicity would sometimes tell her how good it was to live alone since 18. While Seline left home only around 24, very close with both of her parents. If it wasn't for the constant trouble and stress around Dylan not passing an exam or another, not doing his homework or boxing in the halls in school cause he couldn't take the sitting anymore...maybe she wouldn't have left. Or met Isaiah. Or Matt.

Seline reached her floor in a blink of an eye. Was it safe to think about these things? To reminiscent? It had been two years since then. Surely it wouldn't make her cry anymore to think of Felicity.

She cleaned up the shoes in the hall, hanging her coat. Went to the kitchen to take a glass of water, chest constricting. Too soon?

Can you really be reeling so much from a breakup with a friend this long?

The apartment was quiet. The drops of water from the faucet hit the bottom loudly until they stopped coming.

Seline went upstairs. Maybe it was good they weren't home. She could get emotional and cry in peace and be all the happier for them, when they came home.

She opened the door, eyes burning, and couldn't help but yelp at the sight. "Isaiah!"

There was her missing boyfriend. Stretched out on her bed, still in his outside clothes - how untypical of him - hugging her pillow close.

"Hey, Sel," he croaked.

"I didn't know you were going to be here so soon." She would have come faster.

Damn these stupid lonely yearnings. No way she would allow herself to need someone so much again. No way she would end up wanting him more than he wanted her.

"Shouldn't be. Still have classes." He turned to his side, hands wrapped around his stomach. "Had lunch with the Stark pack reprensetives. I think there was something wrong with the salad dressing," Isaiah said with a grimace, "my stomach's been messed up since then."

Warmth spilled over her chest like warm honey. Seline didn't want to show how much it touched her that when he wasn't feeling well, he went to her room, her bed, nose buried in her scent.

"How messed up?" She knelt onto the bed, looking him over. He was paler than usual, hair glued to his temples.

Isaiah swallowed heavily. "Had to go to the bathroom two times during one class. It was getting ridiculous." He let himself fall back against the pillows closing his eyes. "Also feel kind of nauseous," he said with resignement.

"Awwe, I'm so sorry." She tiptoed closer to lie down next to him.

Isaiah reached for her immediately, wrapping his arms around her, pressing his face into her chest.

"Maybe you could just let it happen," she cooed, dragging her fingers through his hair. "The sooner the bad food leaves your system the better."

Isaiah made a whiny sound at the back of his throat. "I thought you might have a magical cure."

She rolled her eyes fondly. "Not magical. Just drops and tea." Kissing his forehead, she wiggled herself out. "I'll be right back."

He groaned pathetically when she left him, face planting into the mattress. He stayed in the same position when she returned.

"Here, drink this." She handed him a small shot glass.

Isaiah's nose twitched as he straightened up to take it. "That's vodka."

"Best thing against bacteria from bad food multiplying in your stomach," she said with a shrug. "Mom always makes us drink it on trips to faraway countries, where the cuisine is too different. Shot of this in the evening, and you spare yourself all the stomach trouble."

Isaiah snorted, clearing the glass and shuddering at the taste.

Seline put the tray with glass of water, herbal drops, a steaming cup of mint tea and a bowl, just in case, onto the nightstand next to the black haired wolf.

"Okay, anything else you want to try? The tea or the drops?"

Isaiah curled back up on the bed. "I don't feel good. Could just hold me?" His cheeks actually went a little pink, the colour more visible against the sickly pastiness.

Seline couldn't help the smile. She changed into fresh fresh shirt and legins, resuming her position in bed. Isaiah curled up against her, his hair reached just under her chin.

Something about the physical closeness was melting her insides. No, things were very different now. Grateful relief spread over her, her skin singing at having his body this close, so in need of her comfort and touch. The best cure for her.

Felicity and her ended up fighting over the research topics of Seline's first published article. The project should was aimed to be published at the professor's online magazine and Felicity, Via and Cami insisted she should write something about the witches. The cause. That witches shouldn't be forced to work or pay taxes. That since their calling was the pack, calming the shadows, they shouldn't be expected to work like normal people.

Seline looked at Felicity's gaming from sunrise to sunset. At Cami's constant complaining of a terrible dark world, prejudices on every step, wearing the darkest glasses she could. At Via's depressive episodes, insomnia, her diaries turning all around which pack would finally choose her, how she would find the perfect wolf partner to take care of her and her hobbies. Her Saint witch hobbies, that should be celebrated, because they were worthy of celebration and concessions.

Just for existing.

And they insisted Seline of all people should write it.

Didn't have the patience for actually finishing your degrees, did you? Too busy playing games and crisizing everything you came across on the sidewalk.

Seline didn't realize how much she had come to resent that notion. That she had tolerated their differences, out of love, out of friendship. Out of unspoken agreement that they would not force each other's opinions on each other or push or try to convince the other of "their truths". Cause there was no one true, the universal truth. There were only angles of issues, different often contradicting perspectives that could exist at the same time.

Were they the whole time just tolerating each other instead of being accepting?

Was the respect not mutual? Or will friendships simply not work out, when the differences run too deep?

Was it a mistake in the attitude or in the people? Did they handle it wrong?

Or did Seline simply care more than they did?

That had been somehow the last drop. Seline refused to write about the witch cause. When Cami pushed, when Via pushed...when Felicity joined, as if expecting Seline to give in to her.

She send her "scientific" articles that attempted to explain how brainwashed Seline was by the system to not want to work for her own "kind".

Seline laughed at how contradictory, unclear and plainly unscientific the whole article was. She couldn't help it, somewhere between hysterics, hurt and the need to stand up for this. To try to explain that their way of life, their passive waiting for wolves to choose them, to play video games all day while you celebrate and comment on the internet, organise protests and force others to write about you felt very much like a completely and utter waste of time to her. Couldn't they see it too? Shouldn't they change their minds, if they think they can demand, censur and order her to write about such things?

There was certain catharsis and relief and saying those things. In finally voicing what had been slowly eating at her, bite by bite with every interaction, open book, at the sight of the video console and fast food on the table.

And she kind of hoped their friendship, their care, that they would give the effort to understand, to come to a standstill. That they could resolve this, clear the air. Survive such a fight.

Instead that was the end.

Felicity told her that was the last minus point for her. That it had been adding up too much, that they simply don't work out.

Seline had no idea what the other minus points were. She was biting her tongue so much as it was, trying to understand. Their perspective was different, they were from pack families, with witches for mothers and aunts and grandmothers. Who had fought for independence and right treatement, who had been caged and enslaved and hunted by wolves who wanted them for as magical calming batteries and not as human beings.

There was history of abuse and injustice that Seline wasn't part of. Wrath she had no one to inherit from.

That day, Seline told them that all they achieved was that she would never ever write anything for them. That she would leave even if she wasn't kicked out. She basically spat the words in their faces. There. Try to write it on your own. Oh whoops. You would have to actually achieve something first, not just exist.

She managed to answer in the moment. She cried only on the way home. And then back in her bad. And for a few months after. Not being able to think of it without breaking down. Locking it up in her heart, so she could move on and focus on other things.

Promising to herself she would never get involved with any wolf or witchy causes again.

Even after all that time, she felt a tear running down her cheek. Pressed against Isaiah like that, his bloated painful stomach against hers.

She didn't make a sound or move to wipe the tear away.

Isaiah still lifted his head with a quizzical expression. Still so pasty, nearly green. But he still looked at her. Still made the effort.

She shook her head, not being able to speak. A strained smile on her lips, her reaction at nervosity.

His hand went into her hair, carding through it. He wiped the tear track with his thumb.

He didn't ask. They never asked questions, only waited until the other wanted to speak.

Seline tighted her grip and he immediately went back to hugging her.

Mending something deep inside.

[http-paprika]

Bite the Hand / Phillip Graves

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part two - new meat ⋆★⋆ the masterlist ⋆★⋆ previous ⋆★⋆ next

summery after accepting graves’ offer, frost arrives in texas at the shadow company base weary and unsure.

werewolf!au / pairing phillip graves x female!reader / callsign frost / wc 1683 / warnings swearing and brief mention of blood

notes looks like thursdays are just becoming my updating day. this chapter took me forever to write, and i ended up not even including everything i originally planned because the struggle was real. but the banter between frost and graves in this chapter give me life! the taglist list is opened, so let me know if you'd like to be added so you get to see all the next chapters!

The sun rose between the pines slowly as she drove down the quiet country roads, her limited belongings in the bed of her truck and her third cup of coffee’s steam blowing in her face as she took another sip. Letting the bitter liquid shock her awake and keep Frost alert. She had decided to drive through the night, to spend the long, dark hours contemplating her decision; the pleading of her commanding officer not to leave, and Phillip Graves’ joy when she’d give him a satisfactory response.

As the early sun grew higher, she could feel the heat. Frost knew Texas was brutal for its heat, but it still shocked her. The humid air surrounded the truck, it was thick in her lungs like water as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel and pulled onto the dirt shoulder of the road. 

“This can’t be right. Fuck.” She swore and pulled over on the side of the road, turning her hazards on despite the emptiness of the empty road. The directions given to her were poorly written out, and there were no distinct landmarks around to guide her. There was a slight temptation to roll the windows down further and drive slowly, using her nose as a guide. But her tracking skills weren't keen enough for that, it would be futile.  

 “I’m losing my damn mind,” Frost grumbled, before a knocking on the window caused her to jump out of her skin, reaching the closest object and turning to look at the source. Graves smirks at her from the outside, an arm propped against the truck, a rifle slung over his shoulder. His scent was blended with the pines, a natural camouflage that had kept her detecting him.

“Can you not do that?” She asks, a scowl on her face as she rolls the window down further.

“Just wanted to ensure I got myself a soldier who reacts properly. Not sure what a plastic straw would do, but I’m glad to see you’re vigilant.” Graves chuckles, she looks down at the object she’d chosen for defense, quickly dropping it back down. “Also happened to be in the area and noticed you pull over. Guess the directions provided weren’t very useful?” 

 “No, they weren’t.” Frost sighs, rubbing the crease in her forehead, hoping that her meetings with Graves wouldn’t always put her on edge. She eyed the gun cautiously as he shifted his footing. 

 “Good thing I found you then, you can get lost real easily if you’re unfamiliar with these parts.” He states, readjusting the strap of the gun. “And the Shadows aren’t very kind to strangers in their woods.” 

“If you’re attempting to scare the shit out of me, you’re failing,” Frost responds cooly, unlocking the passenger side door for Graves. He gets in the truck, placing the rifle in the back between her two duffle bags. She was close enough now, that Frost could feel the heat radiating off his body, noticed the length of his hair as she pulled back onto the road, and his musk was a heavy scent. He’d just shifted, she was certain of it. Keeping the windows down to dispel his scent, Frost allowed Graves to direct her, following his directions and resisting the urge to ask what he’d been doing in the woods. 

“You don’t scare easily, do ya?” Graves’ eyes were set on her, watching the way she ground her teeth together at his question. “Most of our kind would be intimidated, wandering into the Texas backwoods that’s filled with a vicious pack.”

“Maybe, or maybe I’m just really stupid.” He let out a barking laugh at her response, reminding Frost of the coyotes that her father used to hunt down when they’d steal a chicken or badger the sheep. The sharpness of his teeth and the cackle in his voice made the similarity uncanny. 

“Well, I’d hate for that to be the truth.” Graves shook his head as she slowed the car, reaching a boom gate where two soldiers stood on guard. One of the masked soldiers stepped up to the truck, glaring at the stranger inside but motioning for the other to open the gate once he spotted his commander. “Quiet morning, Diego?” 

“Yes sir.” Even with a mask covering the bottom of the man’s face, Frost could tell he was sniffing her out. His eyes narrowed even as he waved her on; in the rearview mirror, she watched the two soldiers talk, keeping their eyes on the truck. 

“Does your pack have a hard time accepting new blood?” She asks with curiosity, wondering how much of a living hell her life will become. All of this was uncharted waters for her, having never been in a situation like this before. But she knew enough about the distrust packs had towards outsiders, strangers. 

“They’re just a little standoffish at first, weary about you and your scent. But once you’ve had enough of our food, spent enough time in the woods, and among us, you’ll be fine. It’s just a matter of time.” Graves attempts to assure her, but the thought of joining a pack still leaves Frost on edge. Her own father hadn’t accepted her, she was his flesh and blood, yet he still turned his back on her. How much easier would it be for it to happen to those she had no ties to? 

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“You want any coffee?” Graves asks her, stifling through the papers in his office. It was still early enough that the building was empty, with no one to ask questions or bother her about her sudden appearance. 

“No, thanks. I had a cup about an hour ago.” Frost declines, surveying Graves’ messy office, the books he had staked on the windowsill, the various photos he had, and odd trinkets placed throughout the room. It was a stark contrast to the office her old commanding officer had, his had been so cold and unwelcoming, but Frost got the impression that this was Graves’ second home. 

“Right, course you did.” He could smell it on her the same way she could smell the dirt Graves tracked in on his boots. Moving to his desk, he placed down papers for her to sign, the contract of employment. “Don’t forget to read the fine print.” 

“I’d hate to accidentally get in a blood ritual because I didn’t read the terms and conditions.” Frost humorlessly chuckles, sitting down to sign the contract, sealing her future.  

“Wouldn’t ask you to do that. I’ll see where your loyalty lies soon enough. No need to spill any blood, well, any more than this job already does.” Graves said, moving to sit down across from her. He could tell she was unsure, taking her time to read over and sign. “Still worried you’re getting ingrained into a cult?” 

“You read my mind.” She looked up from the papers at him, her forehead knit together with a frown. 

“I know you’ve never been affiliated with a pack before, it’s a natural fear. But this is just like joining the Marines, ‘cept this time, you don’t have to be something you’re not. No one’s holding you back now, you can shed that skin.” He pointedly said, watching Frost as she picked up the pen, signing her name down on the contract. His eyes linger on the signature after she passed it over to him, the ink still wet as he picked it up.

“Don’t make me regret this, Commander.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Graves chuckled as he stood, motioning for her to follow him. “Come on, let me show you around your new home, and get you acquainted with the company.”

 Hesitantly, she followed him out of the office as the building slowly began to fill with soldiers as they attended to their duties. As the two passed, the members of the Shadow Company took their time to get a good look at her, taking in the stranger as Graves rattled on about the job. She wasn’t used to having so many eyes on her, wishing she could blend into the background, and hide in the shadows. 

“You got any brothers?” Graves asked, pausing in front of a door, hand on the knob. 

“No.” 

“Well, you do now.” He opened the door, stepping into a smaller room. Three shadows turn to look up at them, quickly standing to attention at the arrival of Graves, despite him telling them not to. “Where’s Lerch?” 

“He stepped out to get breakfast.” One of them answered. The longer Frost stared at them, she came to recognize them as the shadows who’d pulled her from the rubble, Vance and Dipaolo, but the other was new to her. “Why?” 

“Do you remember how I told you boys we were getting a fine new edition?” The three men looked over at her, slightly nodding. They had the same look of uncertainty and suspicion that Diego. had presented at the gate. "Well here she is." 

 As Graves finishes giving the brief introduction, the door opens behind them. Frost turns and stares up at the tall, broad man who entered, her eyes trailed even with the obstruction of his dark sunglasses.

“I see you brought me the new meat, Graves.” The man commented, not breaking the glare. Compared to Graves, the man was a giant, his scent of tabacco and oil consumed the room just as his presence commanded it. Frost could tell why Graves had chosen the man, she could only imagine how intimidating he was on the field. 

“Yes, I have.” Graves put his hands on her shoulders, beaming with pride as he introduced the two. “Frost, this is Lerch. One of the most terrifying men you’ll ever meet, my third-in-command, an expert in lycanthropy, and who will ensure that you're the soldier the Shadow Company needs.” 

Lerch gives her a full smile, a golden canine tooth glinting in the low light of the room, extending a mitt of a hand down to her. “Welcome to the Shadow Company, Frost.” 

taglist: @delusionally-loveless-by-choice / @bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus / @iamcautiouslyoptimistic / @anna-banana27

[beautifulpersonpeach]

HYBE stocks are down so that means investors didn't believe HYBE's payola mediaplay of Jimin renewing his contracts. ONLY RM SIGNED HIS CONTRACT. It's shameful how you ot7s try to force people to doubt Jimin. Forcing people to think staying with the company after all the sabotages is good for him are we in upside down land? Well no and the stocks show it. Armys swallowed the purple koolaid but the investors live in the real world.

***

Please stop sending me asks like this.

Your ask is a very good example of something my friends and I were just talking about. This is the thread (linked here) that prompted our conversation.

Please read it.

HYBE is down ~5% in the hours following the contract renewal news.

Anon, I don't know how old you are or if you have your own bank account, but nobody who knows what they're doing looks at stock movements in isolation. It's a relative metric, by definition. And here's a few things that have happened in the last 48 hours that explain what stocks moved relative to:

The Market - All major Korean stock indices are down on the mixed resolution by the US Fed this week. It's a trend consistent with market movements in every country that does significant trade with the US and/or denominates trade in USD.

The Index - The index for entertainment companies (ex gaming) on the KRX is down ~3.5% over the same period.

The Peers - HYBE's closest peers for our purposes, i.e. JYP, SME, YG, Kakao, etc, are down on average ~6.5%. YG is the outlier here down ~13%. Excluding YG, the average return over the same period is HYBE's peers being down ~4.5%.

At market open following HYBE's contract renewal news there was a massive options call with a volume of about 8K at depressed prices relative to yesterday's closing. By its characteristics it's likely an event-triggered options call made for profit-taking. This is normal for retail and institutional investors who trade in liquid names. Excluding the options volume, HYBE's actual stock performance over the same period, is that they're down ~2.5%.

Meaning, HYBE actually outperformed their peers and the index (ex gaming) following the contract renewal news. The total entertainment index (including gaming) was only down ~1.9%, and so HYBE underperformed that index when you include gaming companies. But that's not a peer group that's usually considered for k-pop companies anyway.

So the stock movements you're referring to, are in effect showing the opposite of what you think.

*

This might be hard to believe, but I'm actually very neutral on HYBE. I have my own opinions about how they run their business, how the sub-labels are managed, etc. But when I see things I don't like, I don't go looking for any sliver of disjointed information to uphold my previously held belief. It's a sign that you're a living, breathing, thinking being, when the introduction of new information challenges a perception you have, you're able to meaningfully deduce the implications, and arrive at a more informed conclusion.

The new piece of information we received in the last 24 hours, is that HYBE's board has approved the resolution to renew BTS's exclusive contracts. Given the size of the payout to BTS, this is a customary requirement to finalize the renewals process. For the nature of company disclosures like this, there's the expectation of a time lag between when a deal is announced and when it closes, but the fundamentals of the deal do not change. The time lag is typically to hash out technicalities and to allow for other considerations (which we know in this case involves limitations due to 2seok's military service), but the fundamentals of the announcement do not change else HYBE will be charged for misrepresentation in their disclosures and for market manipulation at the Board level.

Basically, if HYBE was not at least 100% sure these renewals would be completed, that press release would literally be corporate suicide.

The quality of conversations here would be so much higher, whether in akgae or ARMY circles, if people actually knew what they were talking about.

Please don't spam asks like this in my inbox again. Take those ramblings to a blog that can tolerate it. I have extremely little patience for akgaes in general.

[theclairvoyage]

Chapter 1: Boomer Sooner

Part of Bloody Knuckles series

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x AUSA!f!reader

Javier's first day in OKC is nothing short of stressful-though that changes when he meets you.

Chapter warnings: alcohol consumption, smoking, adult language, mentions of violence, mentions of human trafficking, reader is able-bodied, has long hair and is roughly the same height as Javi (no other descriptors), Spanish usage (translations at the end)

WC: 3.2k

Fall 1992

Corpus Christi, Texas

Sweat drips from Javier’s forehead and temples as he pulls stubborn weeds from the dry dirt at his mother’s house in Corpus Christi.  The air is heavy and humid, compressing his chest like a thick heated blanket.  Mamá insisted she could do it herself, stubborn as the weeds.  Mijo, puedo hacerlo.  No necesito ayuda.  He’d waved her off and stepped out the front door, Tecovas boots clomping the wooden steps.

The screen door flies open with a screech, and out comes his mother, pitcher of vibrant red agua fresca in tow, garnished with fresh spearmint and strawberries.  In the fall, she loves to make Agua de Jamaica with the beautiful hibiscus flowers that bloom in late summer.  Her backyard garden is a utopia compared to the disaster of a front yard, filled with a smorgasbord of gorgeous flowers, vegetables, fruits, and bird feeders.

“Tómate un descanso, Javier.  Por favor,” she urges him.  He nods, tearing the sweaty gardening gloves from his hands, and tossing them on the porch.  He wipes his brow with the back of his dirt-covered forearm, no longer caring about how he looks or smells.  Only a cold shower would resurrect this mess.

“Gracias, Mamá.  Se parece muy bien,” he compliments her, relishing the sweet smile that stretches her freckled, weathered cheeks.  Her long, silvery mane is curled into a tight bun, wispy baby hairs fallen prey to the humidity in Corpus Christi.  She is a true Mexican mother—hardworking, resourceful, strong-willed, and unequivocally dedicated to her family.  It’s nice to see the softer side of her once in a blue moon—a refreshing break from the wooden spoon or chancla.

She pours him a hefty glass of the hibiscus drink before returning to the house, ice cubes crashing into glass with little clinks.  Javi plops himself on the old porch, sipping and observing the scene in front of him.  Fuck, that’s good, he thinks, licking his lips to savor the taste and the liquid that has seeped up into his mustache.  She knows this drink was his favorite, and boy, did she make it perfectly.

The yard, on the other hand, was not even close to perfection.  Javier’s dad passed away a couple years ago, and with Javi posted in Colombia, she had limited assistance.  Sure, family came around to help, and he knew she dabbled in some landscaping herself, but the weeds grew too quickly.

She was too proud to let any landscaping service come help her—he remembered the day a landscaping company tucked a pamphlet between her screen and front doors, and she called him enraged, smirking to himself at the memory.  “¡Pendejos estúpidos, déjame sola!”

At least he had made decent progress.  The weeds were plucked, but the grass was patchy and scarce.  He’d need to find some grass seed and plant it or convince her to buy sod—fat chance.  Chugging the last few gulps of his agua fresca, he stands and enters the house.  His mother takes the glass from him, patting his shoulder affectionately.

“Mijo, algún hombre te llamó.  No dio un nombre, solamente un número.  Está aquí,” she says, pointing a wrinkled finger at an old utility bill envelope with a phone number scribbled in blue pen.  The fuck, he thinks.  Who the fuck has my mom’s home number? Better not be some girl.

“Gracias, Mamá.  Perdóname, por favor,” he says, grabbing the envelope and returning to the front porch to punch in the number on his giant mobile phone.  It rings twice before a male voice responds.

“About time, Peña.  Ready to get back to work?” The voice echoes—cocky, smug.

“If this is DEA, you can go fuck yourself.  Already gave y’all my letter of resignation,” Javi spits.  The voice returns a few whoa, whoa, whoas, like he’s trying to rein in a wild horse.

“Got a great opportunity for you here in Oklahoma City.  Need you here by next week.  Already got an apartment and a desk saved for you.”  Javi scratches his head in confusion.

“Opportunity for what?” Javi bites back, fucking irritated at this no-namer.

“FBI.”

“Goddammit.”

The next week, Javier finds himself squinting and cursing on the sidewalk of the FBI Building on West Memorial Road in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, wondering how the fuck he got here.  He can’t remember the last time he craved a cigarette so badly.  It felt sacrilege, living in Sooner country—he was an Aggie through and through.  He pulls the rumpled utility bill envelope from his mother’s house out of his already-sweaty tan blazer pocket and re-reads the instructions for the 300th time.

-Enter parking lot via security gate and use code 584323, give them name

-Enter building on west side and go through security

-Someone will be waiting for me?

Shaking his head, he wipes sweat from his mustache and trudges toward the west entrance, straining to pull one of the doors open.  The heavy metal doors threaten to shove him back into the outside world—something he would welcome, at this point.

Walking through a maze to get to the metal detectors, he gazes up at the highly vaulted atrium, observing the boring taupe-colored walls, and stopping at a black and white photo of J. Edgar Hoover.  Two armored guards with solemn, stony faces wipe their gaze up and down Javier’s figure as he stops just before the metal detector.

“Come through,” one of them barks, beckoning to him to step through.  He obliges, before the other stone soldier puts a palm up in Javier’s face.  “Need ID.”  Javi fishes his wallet out, instinctively reaching for his phantom DEA badge.  The guard scans his Texas Driver’s License before handing it to the other guard.

“Any weapons?” One asks, as the other walks behind Javier.

“Nope,” Javi replies, assuming the familiar position of a search, hands posted up high and legs spread.  The gruff men pat him down and excavate his pockets, finding nothing but his phone, keys, wallet, and the rumpled envelope with instructions.

“Come this way, Peña.” He follows one to the round front desk to a tall, blue suit, leaning against the counter with a smirk on his face.  Javi doesn’t recognize him.  Blue Suit stands and holds out a manicured hand to Javier.

“Nice to meet you, Peña,” Blue Suit croons.  Javi recognizes the voice as the one that called his mother’s house in Corpus Christi.  Javi clasps his hand and shakes it a few times, grunting in approval.

“I’m Eddie Penn, supervisory special agent.  You’ll be with me for today—likely for a while,” he says with a grin.  Javi raises one eyebrow at him, suspicious.  Eddie trots toward some elevator doors, flashing ID at two more armored guards posted up next to them.  Javi follows him into the elevator and watches him press a yellow-stained 3.

“How’s the apartment?” Eddie asks as the elevator ascends noisily.  Javi shrugs.

“Honestly, I threw all my shit in there last night and haven’t had much of a chance to get any furniture,” he replies, studying the elevator inspection form above the floor number buttons.  Eddie chuckles.

“Sorry about that—I was pretty limited on the timeframe and places we could put you.  We’ll get you a car and help with furniture,” he apologizes, hands twitching in his pockets.  Javi shakes his head, long hair swishing back and forth.

“No worries.  I’m assuming this is important,” he says, turning to look at Eddie, eyes narrowing for a millisecond.

“Yes.  We’ll discuss everything in my office—the Assistant Director is waiting on the phone for us,” he says as the elevator screeches to a halt, doors opening slowly.  The two step out and Eddie leads Javi through a floor of gray cubicles, sounds of telephones ringing and keyboards clacking filling the air.

It’s not too different from DEA offices, Javi thinks.  There are more people, more suits and skirts, but the blueprint is the same.  Eddie nods his head at several people staring at the pair as they traverse the floor.  Javi tries to keep his eyes from meeting anyone’s—he needs to know why he’s here before he starts familiarizing himself with these people.

Eddie opens the door to an office, contents invisible to the floor, save for a narrow window above the handle.  There are two chairs facing a small wooden desk, with a giant computer monitor in one corner and a telephone in the other.  There’s a small window behind the desk overlooking the city.  Eddie gestures to one of the chairs as he steps behind the desk.

Javi sits into one of the stiff, unforgiving cushions as Eddie presses a few buttons and puts the phone on speaker.  Javi drums his fingers on the arm of the chair as he stares out the window, somewhat covered by stray hairs of Eddie’s combover.  Eddie clears his throat.

“Assistant Director, I’ve got Javier Peña here with me.  Glad to have you on the phone.” Great, so Eddie’s a kiss-ass.  A muffled, adenoidal voice replies on the other end.

“Thanks, Agent Penn.  Javier—it’s great to have you.  I read up on your work in Colombia—you’re somewhat of a hero here in the States.  What made you leave the DEA?” The Assistant Director asks.  Javi leans forward, elbows on his thighs and fingers smoothing his mustache hairs as he recounts his experience in South America.

“Well, sir—to be frank, it’s a shit ton of work trying to catch a drug lord.  The time I put in was enough,” Javi says honestly.  Eddie snaps his head up to glare at Javier—presumably for the cursing.  The Assistant Director laughs, voice even more nasally than before.

“Well, I do appreciate the honesty.  When I heard you’d quit DEA I jumped on the opportunity to have you join here,” the AD spouts.  Javi raises an eyebrow as he listens.

“Might I ask why?” Javi tests, glancing at the carpeted ground as he waits for a response.

“There’s a large-scale intelligence task force here dedicated to stopping arms and human trafficking in Oklahoma—funny enough, we know Escobar has done some dealings here, but that won’t be your focus.”  Javi raises the other eyebrow in surprise.

“In Oklahoma?  Interesting—figured he was only invested in Miami and other coastal cities,” Javi ponders.  The AD chuckles.

“He was—but he’s learned to be more discreet in his business operations.  No thanks to the great work of the DEA.”  Javi snorts.

“Anyway, Javier,” the AD continues, “Human trafficking in this part of the country has worsened in recent years.  The DEA doesn’t have enough manpower to tackle a problem of this magnitude.  So, the FBI has made it a priority.”  Javi listens, eyes scanning the room.  He leans back in the chair, crossing an ankle over his knee and pursing his lips.

“So, we are going to fast-track you to supervisory special agent, like Agent Penn here—we think your experience with the DEA has more than warranted that role, and your supervisor recommended you for this task force.  Sounds like you’ve got some great leadership abilities, Peña.  This job will pay well, a bit better than what you were making with the DEA,” the Assistant Director rambles, sounding impressed.  Javi widens his eyes.

“Penn here will train you once you pass the field tests—marksmanship, physical, drug tests—you know the drill.  Then you’ll hit the ground running with the task force.  Any questions?”  Javi furrows his brow, thinking.

“Don’t think so,” Javi replies.  He knows he can’t back out of this one—it’s a great opportunity, a pay raise—even if it’s in shitty Oklahoma.

“Great.  I’ll be in the Oklahoma Office in the next few weeks for a status report.  Looking forward to monitoring your progress.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Javi replies.  Eddie hangs up the phone and rummages through some manila case files on his desk, handing a thick one to Javi.

“This is what we’ve been working on as of late,” Eddie says.  Javi flips open the case file and pulls out some large pictures from the front.  Javi glances through photos of suspects, victims, crime scenes, and camera footage.  Some are brutal—young girls with brandings and tattoos, bruises and scrapes—some deceased, some barely alive.  Javi swallows loudly.

“Some fucking pieces of work that do this shit,” he seethes quietly, jaw ticking.  Penn nods.

“It’s tough,” Eddie says, “But we’ve made some great strides here.  Sadly, we can’t do everything.”

Javier continues flipping through the case files, now reading field reports.  Some are from the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs in Oklahoma, some from OKCPD and other neighboring police departments.

“I’m assuming we work mostly with local LEO departments?” Javi questions, snapping the case file shut.  Eddie nods.

“Yep.  We try to work cases in conjunction, whenever possible.  We also work closely with an AUSA who has taken a liking to this task force.”

“Oh yeah?  He tough on crime?” Javi questions, plopping the case file back on Penn’s desk.

“She is,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows.  “Real spitfire, that one.  Smart as hell.  And between you and me, she’s a sight for sore eyes.”  Javi nods, rolling his eyes.  He pictures a petite blonde in a pencil skirt.  He’s had plenty of those.

“Interesting,” he says.

“You’ll meet her sometime this week, she’s here at least two to three times a week working on cases.  Sometimes she’ll go out in the field with us, though she’s not supposed to,” Eddie says.  Javi tilts his head at Eddie.

“Why’s that?  Likes to keep tabs on the team?” Eddie shakes his head.

“Likes to talk to the victims, meet them, see everything firsthand.  Wait ‘til you see her in the courtroom—it’s something else,” Eddie says, reminiscing your powerful opening and closing arguments and connection with members of the jury.  Javi is unimpressed.

“Seen enough lawyers to know it’s all a show,” he scoffs.  Eddie shrugs.  Javi would be in for a real surprise when he finally gets the chance to meet you.

Later that evening, after filling out dozens of forms and answering questions, Javier finds himself at a local tavern, The Dark Horseman, a few minutes from his apartment.  The inside lives up to the name—dark and hazy, filled with lots of dark-stained wooden walls, tables, and chairs, with random horse paraphernalia lining the walls.

He’s the only one sitting at the bar, slowly sipping a glass of some cheap whiskey the bartender poured.  There’s an old, old jukebox adjacent to the bar blaring some sad Hank Williams ballad.  Some people are playing pool at the other end, filling the space with the smacks of billiard balls and random cheers.

The bartender steps in front of Javier, nodding at his soon-to-be empty glass.  Javi shakes his head.

“I’m good after this.”  The bartender nods again and steps away to wipe down some tables.  Javi sets the glass down and pinches the bridge of his nose, craving a cigarette.  He’d been trying to quit—but the move and the stress of a new job he knew nothing about had forced him to capitulate in the last few days.  He stands, letting the bartender know he’s going for a smoke.  As he goes to push the bar door open, someone pulls it from the other side.

There you stand, frozen in place as Javier almost slams into you.  Still holding the door, you step back a bit so he can leave.  He stares at you for a moment, entranced.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” you apologize, small smile on your face.  Javi’s eyes drop to your lips momentarily before hovering at your eyes.

“Not a problem, s’my bad.  Excuse me,” he says, mirroring your smile.  You’re taken aback at how handsome this stranger is—but you really need a drink after today.  He steps out, pulling the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and smacking them against his hand as he watches you walk inside.

You’re tall, probably as tall as him, confident, and elegant, though you’re wearing ratty jeans and a tee shirt.  Your eyes are what captivated him the most—beautiful, emotive, weary, yet still glowing.  And your scent was unlike any he’d smelled before—earthy, musky, and slightly spicy.  He shakes his head as he lights a cigarette, taking a long draw and leaning up against the wall of the tavern.

He doesn’t need to fuck a random stranger his first big day here.  What he needs is some food, a shower, perhaps another cigarette, and a long night of tossing and turning.  He finishes the cigarette and returns to the brooding bar, noticing you sitting a few chairs down from his glass of whiskey and his tab that the bartender slapped on the wood while he was smoking.

“Come here often?” he asks, almost involuntarily.  He winces at how corny he sounds, and you probably think he’s hitting on you.  He’s not trying to pick you up, but he is curious.  You turn to him as you finish a sip of some amber liquid—whiskey, maybe?

“I try not to, unless I’ve had a bad day,” you say, smiling at him as you set your glass down.  Fuck, you’re beautiful.  His breath stalls in his lungs for a moment.

“So, if I see you in here again, it won’t be for a good reason,” he says, fighting the urge to wink at you as he signs his tab.  He settles for a half smile, one side of his mustache twitching up.

You laugh and half-shrug.  He likes the sound of it—breathy, melodious, somewhat subdued.  You must be tired.

“There’s a good chance of that, though you look like you’re here for the same reason,” you say, studying him as he turns to you, stuffing his wallet in the pocket of his tan slacks.  He snorts.

“Something like that,” he says, eyeing you.  You turn to take another sip, and he takes the opportunity to study your features again.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Stranger That Also Had a Bad Day,” you tell him, pulling a chortle from him.  You’re witty—he likes that.  He better leave before he sits in the chair next to you.

“Same to you.  See you around?” he says, raising a brow at you.

“Good chance of that, too,” you say, giving him a close-lipped smile.  He nods at you and exits the bar.  He sure hopes so.

Spanish glossary:

Mijo, puedo hacerlo.  No necesito ayuda. = My son, I can do it.  I don’t need help.

Tómate un descanso, Javier.  Por favor. = Take a break, Javier.  Please.

Gracias, Mamá.  Se parece muy bien. = Thank you, Mom.  It looks great.

¡Pendejos estúpidos, déjame sola! = Stupid assholes, leave me alone!

Mijo, algún hombre te llamó.  No dio un nombre, solamente un número.  Está aquí. = My son, some man called for you.  He didn’t give a name, just a number.  It’s here.

Gracias, Mamá.  Perdóname, por favor. = Thanks, Mom.  Excuse me a minute, please.

Chapter 2 (coming soon-ETA 05/23/24)

Taglist: @burntheedges

[penmansparadise]

Ed Nygma ~ The Set Up

Pairing: Ed Nygma x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Mild language

A/N: Hello!  It's been quite some time since I've posted and written.  I have been recently watching Gotham, and I'm obsessed.  This is the first time I've ever dabbled in the DC realm, so please go easy on me.  This will hopefully be the first of several one shots for the show Gotham.  Please do not be afraid to send in a request but do know that I am only at the beginning of Season 3, so who I write for may be limited.  But if you like this one, please send in a request for another!  I hope you all enjoy

§

The sound of your shoes against the tile floor mixed with the hustle and bustle of the GCPD. You moved around officers hauling in criminals screaming for justice as you made your way to your little corner of the building. You hadn’t been working at the GCPD for long. In fact, you were happy where you were previously employed. You would have stayed there forever had a former employee, who was now caged up in Arkham, not decided to torch the place. So, when you found yourself out of a job, you did what any ordinary distraught adult would do. You called your best friend and scheduled a date for some much-needed wine therapy. Unfortunately for you, your best friend was hanging out with her close buddy, Kristen Kringle, when said call was made.

You had only met Kristen a handful of times and were not a fan. She always struck you as shallow. Every time you spent time with her, she would only ever talk about how much she hated her job but enjoyed all the male attention from the officers. So, naturally, when your best friend told you that Kristen could get you a job as her assistant at the GCPD, you were a little skeptical. But, since your options were limited, you reluctantly accepted and eventually found yourself being Kristen’s own personal servant.

You hurried through the building until you came upon the Record’s Room door. Just as you were about to enter, the trill of Kristen’s giggle filled your ears, causing you to pause. You peeked around the corner to find Officer Dougherty trailing his fingers up and down Kristen’s arm. His head was angled down as he whispered something into her ear, earning another laugh. You rolled your eyes before turning on your heel with a huff and headed toward the M.E.’s office. When you entered the room, it was empty. Lee always ran a bit late, but you knew she wouldn’t mind if you hid in her office. She was used to it by now.

You dropped your bag onto the floor and began aimlessly walking around the room. Vials of odd-colored liquids were chilling in a refrigerator, and several medical tools were lined on the table in the middle of the room. You meandered over to the lone skeleton in the corner and began lifting up its limp arms. You gave them a light shake causing the whole thing to rattle when the door opened.

“Making friends over there?” Lee asked.

You dropped the arms and let out a little chuckle.

“I couldn’t help myself. He looked a little bonely.”

“Not a pun this early in the morning, Y/N” Lee groaned.

You just smiled as you moved to plop down into her roller chair. As you watched Lee set up for the day, you began slowly spinning the chair. She sent you a glance over her shoulder.

“Kristen has company again?”

You scoffed and said, “Officer Dougherty, now.”

“She sure moved on quickly from Flass.”

With every spin, you briefly looked at Lee and said, “Don’t even get me started.”

Lee let out a breathy laugh and then continued to move around the room. You were spinning in silence when the door opened again, and none other than Ed Nygma entered. You slammed your feet down in an attempt to stop the spinning and nearly sent yourself flying from the chair. A bright smile spread across Ed’s face the second your eyes locked with his.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

“Hi, Ed,” you said, his name coming out like a secret you didn’t want anyone else to know.

“I thought I might find you here.”

You and Ed hit it off immediately, which inevitably meant that your crush for him blossomed rather quickly. You remember it like it was yesterday. It was your first day on the job, and Kristen had delegated sorting to you. So, you were crouched behind the filing cabinets going through shelves of folders, when Ed walked into the Record’s Room. You didn’t see him right away. You could only hear was his chipper and smooth voice as he greeted Kristen.

“Though my beauty is becoming,” he said, his smile seeping into every word, “I can hurt you just the same; I come in many colors; I am what I am by any other name. What am I?”

Kristen groaned.

“Mr. Nygma, I’m really not in the mood for one of your little riddles.”

“Do you give up?” Ed had asked, not even caring about Kristen’s hostile tone.

You could hear her huff before she said, “Yeah, I give up.”

You didn’t even know him yet, but for some reason, the way Kristen was treating him was pissing you off. Maybe that’s what possessed you to answer his riddle when he began to give the answer.

“I’m a–”

“Rose,” you said as you stood up, revealing yourself.

His eyes snapped to you, and you took a sharp breath. He was cuter than he sounded. Tall with hair combed almost systematically and eyes the color of a warm cup of coffee. And when he directed his smile toward you, it felt like you were struck by lightning. He pulled a rose you didn’t see him holding from behind his back and handed it to you.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

You took the rose from him, your fingers just barely grazing his velvety skin. His eyes traveled over every inch of your face, from the arch of your brow to the curve of your lips.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he began, extending his hand to you. “I’m Ed Nygma.”

You placed your hand in his large palm and couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted in your stomach.

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

The corners of his lips curled upward as he shook your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/L/N.”

He held onto your hand for a moment longer than necessary before finally taking his exit. You were frozen in time as your body reacted to him even though he was no longer in the room. You could barely hear when Kristen began to whine about how Ed was the guy she told your best friend about who wouldn’t leave her alone. Her voice became a hum as you stared at the rose Ed gave you, and all you could think was that you were glad Kristen didn’t like him because you did. A lot.

That was six months ago. And ever since that first meeting, Ed would visit you every morning and give you a riddle. His daily ritual only furthered your feelings for him. As the months rolled on, you did your best to conceal your emotions, but it seemed that everyone knew of your ever-growing crush. Of course, that was everyone but Ed.

You sat up a little straighter in your chair as you waited for Ed to deliver his daily riddle.

“When you stop to look, you can always see me. But,” he said, sticking a finger in the air, “if you try to touch me, you can never feel me. Although you walk towards me, I remain the same distance from you. What am I?”

You began nibbling on your lower lip as you tried to work through the riddle, whispering to yourself. Your eyebrows furrowed as you brought your hand to your chin.

“Do you give up?” He asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

You waved your hands at him as you let out a string of “no’s,” but after a few more minutes of nothing, you finally let out a defeated huff.

“I give up. What is it?”

Ed’s grin grew, then he said, “The horizon.”

You threw your head back and groaned earning a laugh from Ed.

“I should’ve gotten that one!” You shouted. “That was a good riddle. Right, Lee?”

Lee hummed in response.

“Yeah, it was.”

Ed gave her a nod and said, “Good morning, Dr. Thompkins.”

“Ed,” Lee began with a gentle smile, “please just call me Lee.”

“Right. My apologies, Lee.”

He turned back to you, and your heart jumped in your chest. Even after all these months, you were still unable to figure out how he had such an effect on you. Ed just existing made you melt. You couldn’t help but think what would happen if he ever got his hands on you. Your bottom lip slid between your teeth at the thought.

“Well,” Ed said, pulling you back to reality, “I better head out. I’ll, um, I’ll see you later, Miss Y/L/N.”

You nodded and let out a weak “Okay,” before Ed turned and began walking toward the door. As he went to leave, you looked at Lee, who mouthed, “Say something,” to which you quickly shook your head. Lee rolled her eyes, and just before the door shut behind Ed, she called out to him. At first, the door remained shut, but when it slowly opened again, your heart sank. You tried to control the way your eyes grew to the size of saucers as you watched Lee, but you knew how you were feeling was written all over your face. Ed reentered the room and looked between the two of you.

“Is there something wrong?” He asked, his innocence doing something to your insides.

“No, of course not!” Lee said, moving toward him. “No, um, I was just thinking about our conversation we had a while back about cooking. Do you remember that?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you sent Lee a look, but she ignored you. Ed nodded.

“Y-yes, I do.”

Lee smiled, and to the normal eye, it may have looked endearing. But to you, a close friend, you knew she was scheming.

“I remember you mentioned how you loved to cook and would like to have a double date with Jim and me.”

Your spine straightened, and you began to stand from your chair.

“Lee…”

“I was just wondering if you were free tonight?” Lee asked, ignoring your protest.

Ed’s eyes flitted from Lee’s to yours and back. His cheeks began to redden as he dropped his head and absentmindedly fixed his glasses.

“Oh,” he began, “um, I-I am free, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold up my end of the whole double date thing. I, uh, I don’t have a date.”

Lee’s gaze snapped to yours briefly before saying, “Just bring Y/N!”

Your whole body was tense, and you clenched your fists at your side.

“Lee,” you said, but it was as if you weren’t even in the room.

“I’m sure she has no plans.”

“Lee!” You barked, finally gaining her attention.

You gave her a look, but when Ed turned to face you, you did your best to look as if you weren’t about to pass out or commit murder. He began to fidget with his glasses again and avoided your stare as he said, “I, uh, if you’re free, um, would you like to maybe join us for dinner, Miss Y/L/N?”

When his stare finally met yours, you could see the vulnerability deep in his eyes. You looked at Lee briefly before nodding.

“I’d love to, Ed,” you said, a small smile pulling at your lips.

You could almost see the tension leave his body as he relaxed his shoulders.

“Fantastic. How does seven sound?”

Lee clapped a hand on Ed’s shoulder and said, “That sounds perfect. We’ll see you later.”

A grin spread across Ed’s face before he gave a curt nod and exited once more. And as soon as the door shut behind him, you turned to Lee, who looked smug.

“What the hell was that?” You asked, but Lee didn’t care. She just looked at you and crossed her arms.

“You’re welcome,” she said, causing your jaw to drop, but before you could argue, she held her hand up to stop you. “I don’t want to hear why you think what I did was wrong. Now, you better head to records before someone starts looking for you.”

You stood frozen with your mouth agape for another moment before finally letting out a groan and grabbing your bag from the floor.

“This isn’t over!” You shouted as you showed yourself out, and just as the door was shutting, you could hear Lee’s chuckle.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. No matter how hard you tried to focus on work, your mind was elsewhere. A thousand scenarios were running through your head. What if Ed called you and told you that he actually found a date and didn’t want you to show up? What if he didn’t call and you got to his place only to see some other woman? Your stomach rolled at the thought. Even though you were excited to finally have an unofficial date with Ed, you couldn’t help the way your heart was trying to run away from you.

By the time your shift ended, it felt like you had aged fifteen years. You had been stressing for eight hours, and the evening hadn’t even begun yet. Kristen had already left by the time you gathered your things and began to make your way to the exit. You were digging through your bag when you ran into someone. When you looked up to apologize, you saw Lee and Jim.

“Oh! I’m so glad I ran into you,” Lee said with that same sneaky smile from earlier.

The hairs on the back of your neck stuck up as you asked, “Why?”

Lee let out a sigh.

“We won’t be able to make it to dinner tonight.” She placed a hand on Jim’s back and gave a small pout. “Poor Jim here has come down with a stomach bug.”

You looked at Jim, who was avoiding your stare, and your eyes narrowed.

“He looks fine.”

Lee elbowed him in the side, and Jim slowly brought his closed fist up to his mouth before giving a cough. You furrowed your eyebrows and let out a dry laugh.

“Did you just fake cough?”

Jim shuffled his feet a bit then, in the most monotonous tone, said, “I have been instructed to get bed rest…doctor’s orders.”

Your eyes grew as you looked back at Lee.

“Is he being serious?”

Lee just gave a bashful grin and a shrug before turning to usher Jim out of the precinct.

“Hey!” You shouted after them, but they didn’t turn around, and soon you were standing alone in the bullpen.

“Son of a bitch,” you whispered through gritted teeth as you exited the building and made your way to your vehicle.

It was as if you were on autopilot as you drove home. And when you finally arrived at your apartment, you could barely focus on getting ready for the evening. Your thoughts were a whirlwind. You and Ed had never been alone together before. In fact, you never spent any time together outside of work. Here and there, you would talk on the phone, sometimes even late into the evening, but you had never been on a date. You weren’t sure what to expect, especially now that Lee and Jim wouldn’t be there as a buffer. But even though Lee had set you up and you were nervous, maybe even scared, you still drove to Ed’s apartment at seven. You hiked up the stairs until you were staring at his cold metal front door. Your hands were shaking, and you turned to look at the steps that would lead you right back to the comfort of your car. You could have easily just gone back home and blamed your absence on a headache or your nonexistent sick goldfish. But you didn’t. Instead, you raised your shaky hand and knocked on Ed’s door.

It took him a moment to get to the door, but when it slid open, and you saw him, your heart fluttered in your chest. His normally well-manicured hair was a little disheveled, only making him even more attractive. A bright smile split across his face.

“You came,” he said as he opened the door even further to allow you to enter.

You walked in and were immediately blanketed with a decadent smell emanating from the kitchen, and something that reminded you of clean linen. Your eyes shut for a minute as you took a deep breath. You only opened them again when you heard Ed shut the door and ask, “Do you know when Dr. Thompkins and Detective Gordon will be joining us?”

You let out a sigh and made a mental note to maim Lee when you saw her at work again.

“Um,” you cleared your throat and turned to face Ed,” they’re actually not coming.”

“Oh?”

With that simple sentence, you could see the anxiety seep into Ed’s demeanor.

“Yeah,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck, “Jim wasn’t feeling well.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a moment as Ed stared and processed what you said. His stare was glued to the floor, and you were starting to think this was a bad idea until he lifted his chocolate brown eyes to meet yours and gave you his award-winning smile.

“Well, I guess it’ll just be the two of us then.”

Before you could say anything in return, he hustled past you and entered the kitchen, resuming his work on setting the plates.

“Please, make yourself at home. Dinner is almost ready.”

You took in the apartment as you leisurely made your way toward the table. It was rather small, but everything about it screamed “Ed.” His decor was modern and simple, and there wasn’t one thing out of place. From the books sitting on his bookshelf to the vinyl he had stacked next to his record player, everything had its own spot.

When you finally made it to the table, Ed had just placed two perfectly crafted plates of food down. He pulled your chair out for you, and when you were seated, he took his place across from you. The food looked just as good as it smelt. You honestly weren’t expecting anything special but were pleasantly surprised when you took your first bite. Several flavors danced on your tongue, and you had to hold back a moan.

“Ed,” you said a little too breathy, “this tastes amazing. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

A pleased grin pulled at Ed’s lips, and he shrugged.

“Cooking is like a science, is it not?”

You gave a small chuckle before diving back into your plate. The rest of the meal went by in silence. You were too immersed in your food to even bother starting a conversation. But the way Ed’s foot tapped incessantly under the table did not go unnoticed. And when you both finished, Ed nearly jumped from his seat to gather all the dishes and begin cleaning. You followed him into the kitchen and grabbed a dish towel. Neither of you spoke as you worked. But you could see a slight shake in Ed’s typically steady hands as he washed the plates. You noticed how every few seconds, he pushed his glasses a little further up the bridge of his nose, despite them not needing to be adjusted. You saw how his shoulders were just slightly more tense than usual. How could you not notice? For six months, you had cataloged everything about Ed and stowed it away in your mind. You knew everything about him, even if you tried to deny it. And as badly as you wanted to convince yourself that the evening was going well, you knew that Ed had been acting different since you had arrived.

When the kitchen was cleaned, you hung the dish towel to dry and leaned against the counter opposite Ed. His eyes never met yours, but your gaze was trained on his fidgeting figure. His hair was even more tousled than before, showcasing the beginnings of a few curls. Your fingers itched to brush them back off his forehead, but you didn’t dare move. And you knew the easy thing to do would be to just grab your things and say goodnight, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Instead, you took a deep breath and said, “Ed, is everything alright?”

His eyes flicked up from the floor to meet yours, and his forehead creased at your question.

“W-what do you mean?”

You threw your hands in the air and let out a small grunt.

“I mean, you’ve been acting weird all night.”

You watched as Ed swallowed as you continued.

“Usually, things aren’t so…tense between us,” you said to your shoes. Then you raised your eyes to meet his again. “Did I do something wrong?”

Ed’s face immediately softened at your question, and he closed the distance between the two of you. He took your hands in his as he shook his head.

“No, no, you didn’t do anything. It’s, uh,” he dropped his hold on you and began to pace.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered more to himself than you.

You furrowed your brow at him and tried to place your hand on his arm, but he was moving too erratically for you to touch him.

“Do what?” You asked, causing him to stop in front of you.

Ed took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, focusing his stare on you.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

“Ed,” you said, “just call me Y/N.”

He shook his head and readjusted his glasses once more.

“Right. Y/N.”

He looked at you again.

“I, uh, for a long time, um, oh geez.”

You watched as his mouth opened and closed several times before he balled up his fists, pressed them to his eyes, and let out a high-pitched whine.

“Ed,” you began, taking a step closer to him, “are you o–”

Suddenly, Ed’s hands dropped, and his eyes pierced into yours.

“I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I’m sometimes the hardest to express but the easiest to ignore.”

He took a deep breath and slowly inched toward you as he continued.

“I can be given to many or just one.”

His shaky and slender fingers traced down your arm sending shocks of electricity down your spine.

“What am I?” He asked, voice so low it was barely above a whisper.

Your mind was a muddle. There was no way you could think of an answer with his fingers brushing against yours and his heart clearly exposed. You shook your head, and Ed asked, “Do you give up?”

You gave a weak nod. Ed dropped your gaze for a brief moment before looking back at you and saying, “Love.”

Your stomach did a somersault at his answer, and your heart pounded against your chest. Ed laced his fingers together with yours.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been since the first time I met you.”

Every part of you was buzzing from his admission. You had been waiting months for him to show you any sign that he felt the same way you did. When he didn’t, you began to think your feelings were one-sided. But here he was, standing in the middle of his kitchen, holding your hand, professing his love for you. Your knees felt like they were about to give out, and all the oxygen escaped your lungs. When you didn’t say anything right away, Ed started fidgeting again. He released your hand and began tapping his glasses.

“Oh, great,” he said to the floor, “Now you’re uncomfortable, and I just ruined the only real friendship I have. Way to go, Ed. You–“

You didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. Instead, you took his face between your hands and slammed your lips to his. He was stiff at first, but it only took a moment before his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. His large hands gripped the fabric against your back, and you didn’t waste any time letting your hands thread through his hair. It was as if everything was moving in slow motion. The way Ed’s lips moved in sync with yours felt unhurried. The way the heat bubbling in your gut slowly seeped throughout the rest of your body felt like drinking a cup of hot cocoa after being out in a winter storm all day. It was everything you had imagined and more.

When you finally pulled back for air, you brought your eyes up to meet Ed’s and whispered, “I’m in love with you too, Ed.”

“Really?” He asked, incredulous.

You just nodded, earning a small laugh from Ed before he pressed his lips to yours again. The rest of the evening, you and Ed sat cuddled up on his couch, listening to his array of records while you made a mental note to not maim Lee but rather figure out how you could ever thank her for setting you and Ed up.  

*I do not own gif* *Credit to gif owner*