#fuck off with your 20 year old soldiers

[shadow0-1]

Gave the fucker some new face paint and wrinkles

[everything--under--the--stars]

Lord of the Rings Online is objectively a kind of shitty game bc it's almost 20 years old and free, but the way they handles races is actually so funny because it's just like

Human: Kill 5 prison guards to get to lvl 2 then chill with Aragorn in a fortified town :)

Beorning: Kill a few flies on a quiet farm to level up and gently say goodbye to your family as you head off to save Middle Earth <3

Dwarf: Walk with Gandalf and assist in a prison break. That should take you to lvl 2 like all the others so you're free to go chill with your buddies up north.

And then there's the High Elf:

Oh you want to play HIGH ELF??? You pretentious fucker. You poor, poor bastard. Start with thousands of hit points. Start at in the middle of a battle. You like reading monologues? I hope so because there's a 10 minute debate between lore accurate simlarilion characters. There are no farms or cities here. No respite from destruction, only war. Endless soldiers spawning to the east. Did you know you can take passive fire damage? Well you will when you fall into the fire pits.

Flies? Prison guards? No, go save the fucking prince what else are you here for Jesus fucking christ. Once you survive that, go fight Sauron himself. Oh you failed? Really? The high elf FAILED? You pass out in agony. When you wake, it's been thousands of years. Your king is dead. The world has moved on without you. You are weak: reduced to just a few of your once numerous hit points.

Elrond orders you to sail west from Middle earth and get proper rest. Right now you are nothing. Helpless. But in time... you just might regain enough strength to fight valiantly once again.

Congratulations: You have now reached level 2!

[kaleldobrev]

A Big Ask

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Supe Reader

Summary: Ben has a big ask for you

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Cursing (7x), Implied past threesome, Canon divergence, Some fluff

Authors Note: Takes place in the 1970s (cause why not?) | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

When it came to everyone in Ben’s life, you were the only one that he would remotely listen to. Not only were you his best friend and more than occasional fuck buddy, but you were also his wrangler. The only person that could talk Ben down from beating someone into a bloody pulp for getting his coffee order wrong; the only person that could talk him into bringing you along for a team up so he didn’t get trigger happy.

You and Ben had been friends since first meeting at the inaugural Herogasm in ‘52. You were a bright eyed 18-year-old who wanted nothing more than to make a lasting impression on her two favorite Supes: Liberty and Soldier Boy; and boy did you, as the very next day, Vought called you and offered you a job.

You weren’t entirely sure as to why you were the only person Ben would remotely listen to; but, at this point, you had made the assumption that it was because you’ve been best friends with him for over 20 years — the longest friendship for both of you.

It was a usual Sunday morning for you, as there was a hefty sounding knock at your apartment door. Stretching quickly, you jumped out of bed and grabbed your silk forest green robe, tying it at your waist before heading toward the front door.

Upon opening it, Ben appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the doorframe, holding a white Styrofoam cup in hand with your name written on the side in jet black Sharpie. “Special delivery,” Ben said, handing you the cup.

“My usual I’m assuming?” You questioned, taking the semi-hot cup from his hand. He simply looked at you dead in the eyes. “I’m kidding,” you said, playfully hitting him in the chest. “Come in,” you smiled, turning your back toward him as you walked inside.

Ben strolled right in, practically making himself at home as he shut the door behind him and kicked off his boots; not bothering to place them to the side next to the door where your boots were usually placed. Not even turning around you said, "I hope that's the sound of you putting your boots next to the door."

Ben rolled his eyes. "Yes ma'am," he said, his tone slightly annoyed. He picked up his boots, mentally cursing at you as he placed them next to the door where they originally should have gone when he walked through the door.

Taking a seat on the couch, you crossed your legs and took a good, long look at your friend. "So, what brings you here this morning?"

“Wanted to talk to you about something,” he said, taking a seat next to you on the couch.

“What is it?” You asked. The way he looked at you was different compared to all the other times he had ever looked at you. What was usually a look similar to that of longing, now looked similar to that of fearfulness. Placing a hand on his thigh, you looked him in the eyes, hoping to give him a slightly reassuring look. "Ben, you know you can tell me anything."

"I know, it's just...it's a big fucking ask Y/N," he said, his tone starting to scare you just a little. "But..." he sighed. "Hey, you still have some of that whiskey I gave you the other day?" He asked, abruptly getting up from his spot on the couch; his vocal tone completely changing of that of almost pure glee mixed with some nerves.

"Yeah...in the usual place," you replied, pointing over to your whiskey cabinet. "Ben, it's 7 in the morning."

He walked over to your whiskey cabinet and scoffed, as he took the almost full bottle from it. "Okay and? I'm Soldier Boy. I can do whatever the fuck I want."

You rolled your eyes at his comment. "Just pointing it out," you stated. And you don't do whatever the fuck you want cause I make damn sure you don't, you wanted to add. "So, what did you want to ask me? Because I'm sure it wasn't about the whiskey."

Ben grinned. "No, no. I actually do have to ask you something," he said, walking over to you. He stood over you for a second, unscrewing the bottle. "Make it Irish?" You looked up at him, not removing the lid from your coffee as you had no intention of having alcohol this early in the morning. "Give it to me." Sighing, you gave him your coffee and he removed the lid, throwing it halfway cross the room — you were never going to find that lid anytime soon — and poured a good shot and a half of whiskey into your coffee before handing it back to you.

"Wow, you shouldn't have," your voice monotone, taking back your coffee; the intense smell of whiskey now filling your nose.

"No problem Sugar," he winked before sitting back down next to you. Before he began talking, he took a giant sip. "So, Legend came up with this stupid fucking idea that I need some kind of romance storyline," he scoffed. You tried your best to prevent yourself from laughing, but you couldn't help yourself.

Ben rolled his eyes as he watched you laugh. "See? If you're fucking laughing, the world will be laughing too."

"It's...it's not the worst idea but...I feel like you're the last person that can rock that storyline, I hate to tell you," you admitted. "I'm honestly shocked that they didn't pitch that idea to me."

"The only reason Legend didn't pitch it to you is because you already have a known soft side, I apparently don't," he scoffed. "He says I need to be more relatable," he half chuckled. "Relatable my ass," he mumbled.

"You know, showing your soft side might not necessarily be a bad thing for you..." you said, slightly eyeing him.

The way he looked at you, you might of well as told him to go fuck himself. "I'm no pussy."

"Having a soft spot doesn't make you a pussy Ben," you told him. He just rolled his eyes and scoffed, taking a long swig. "Believe it or not, you already have a soft spot, and your soft spot is me."

"Huh," he half chuckled. "Who knew?" Of course he had a soft spot for you. Who wouldn't have one for you? "Then I guess I know you'll say yes to my ask then."

"If you're so confident I'll say yes, then ask me already. I swear I've gotten older since we started this conversation," you grinned.

"Alright, alright, Christ," he mumbled. "Y/N, would you do me the honor of being my fake PR girlfriend?"

You smiled. "Thought you'd never ask."

Tag List: @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @midorimachisenpaii @rachiem4-blog @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @globetrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @mrlonelycat @zombie-freak @waywardlatina @crystal555 @missscarlettangel @livingordeadwhoknows If you'd like to be added to a tag list please follow this link

[that-fruitier-emo]

I've been rewatching The Legend of Korra, and the most recent episode I watched was Operation: Beifong. Imagine being Kuvira. You woke up that morning intending to test your weapon of mass destruction, and then your prisoners escape. You are pretty evenly matched against one of the said prisoners. Then Toph fucking Beifong, the inventor of the bending technique your using comes. Immobilizes your soldiers AND MECH SUITS. Just to essentially tell you to go fuck yourself.

Part of why Kuvira was a good villain, was because she didn't engage with Toph. She knew if she fought Toph, that it was more than likely somebody's leaving in a body bag, and it wasn't gonna be 86 year old recluse who lives in a damn swamp.

Like, she knows not to start something if she's not confident she can finish it. And even if Toph planned to attack, she was prepared to stand her ground. But she WOULD NOT attack first, because that's what her combat strategy was. Getting them to attack her first so it wouldn't be unprovoked.

Because believe it or not, she was a really skilled earth bender.

And metal bender.

And I'm not going to sell her short by saying otherwise. And while both sides had the means to at they bare minimum defend themselves and escape, they were in a stalemate. Not because neither could advance, but because both parties knew better than to advance. So you had yourselves a good old fashion western stair down. They both knew getting into a fight would be unnecessary, and frankly a waist of both of their times, Kuvira knew deep down, if the fight took place.

She'd be getting her prime earthbending metal bending ass handed to her by a 86 year old woman who's been living completely cut off from society for the past 20-30 years.

(also, while looking for the first photo I found this and felt I should include it)

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: I’ll leave the sentimental stuff for the end <3 Here’s the masterlist!!!

Warning(s): Cursing, reader is the daughter of Aizawa, Shinso and Eri are biological siblings, reader is 20 years old, Reader uses "Cattus" as her alias, reader's nicknames are Cactus, Cattus and Cat, war, reader gets hurt and hits her head a lot, hints of misogyny, betrayals, Kirishima’s just the best, character death, gore and blood, bad war descriptions lol what do you expect from me, reader is AFAB , ANGST, PTSD, mentions of burns, kabedon, you kiss him, a sweet moment between Katsuki and reader :), happy ending

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɴᴇ: The Lake

You can’t breathe.

Denki’s blood stains the stone beneath him. Ejiro runs to his side, but all you can do is stand there in shock.

How could you be so reckless?!

“Kirishima, protect him!” you roar, the red head flinching at the sound of his surname. He's not used to seeing you like this, but nods firmly, making a makeshift bandage in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

You can’t risk looking back. You needed to continue to take down the two men in an instant before running off, determined to take down as many as you could.

BOOM!

A large explosion knocks you off balance, the same follows for everyone in your sight, watching in horror as 5 large machines demolish the rest of the capital gates.

Tanks.

Shit.

The Inimican flag is held proudly, attached to the first tank in the center. You want to rip it off.

Soldiers from both sides scramble away from them to ensure they wouldn’t be crushed by the monstrous hunks of metal that were destroying your home.

You take in a shaky deep breath, trying to block out the destruction all around you.

You needed to think.

Inimicus, you knew, had a very different culture when it came to combat. While their highest ranking military official was on the battlefield, they wouldn’t actively be engaging in combat - instead opting to remain somewhere safe where they could call the shots.

You needed to find which of the armored tanks housed said person. If you could at least take them down, the rest would follow suit.

You bolt in the opposite direction as your comrades, straight towards the tanks, frantically searching for the one thing that would bring your plan to fruition.

You run - so fast you could fly - and yet, it was still not enough, because your friend was bleeding out and about to die.

Finally, you find it.

A gargantuan tank, the color of coal, with silver letters emblazoned on its side.

The Palanquin.

That’s where the leader would be.

And so, that’s where you needed to go.

***

It wasn’t easy trying to sneak into a giant tank, to say the least.

Especially while it was moving.

You sigh, deciding there was no point in contemplating how to discreetly enter and instead work things one step at a time.

First, you need to get close.

Sprinting directly in the direction of The Palanquin, you hear Kirishima’s screams begging you to come back.

You don't listen.

You run until you feel like the air has been sucked out of your lungs, close enough now that your fingertips can graze the roaring metal if you stick your hand out.

Examining the structure, you see a ledge on the tank that's inverted, a decently sized area for you to jump on to.

You lower your torso, still sprinting before launching yourself from the balls of your feet, landing on the ledge, but banging your head against the metal walls of The Palanquin in the process.

“Ah- gods dammit! Fucking hell…” you grumble, now battling the severe ache in your head that started to form.

Eyes latching onto a panel at the bottom of the platform you stood on, you got to thinking. You could pry it open, maybe slip in quietly. Stomping experimentally, you hear a hollow thud, meaning you’d have an area to slip into. You just distant humming - ventilation? That would be perfect. Through the vents you could discreetly go around The Palanquin without anyone noticing; it was unusual however, considering most tanks didn’t have a vent in the first place. But considering The Palanquin was a defensive tank, it made sense.

Brandishing your sword, you accidentally disrupt your balance, wobbling before regaining your stance, lodging your sword into the side of the panel to use it like a lever.

Once it’s far down enough, you push down, using the force to pop open the panel.

Creeaaaak.

The panel pops open, and for a moment, you feel triumphant.

But then your sword’s blade snaps in half.

Fuck.

You groan internally, knowing that it was most definitely a suicide mission to go and fight the Inimican military head without your weapon, but you had no choice. At least you still had your dagger and stars.

There was no going back.

You sigh, heart heavy as you throw it off the side of The Palanquin before slipping into the crawlspace the panel had created.

It was dark, but a few vent covers provided a dim light source along the bottom of the ventilation tubes.

Suddenly you hear voices, fear freezing you in place, even though you knew they couldn’t hear you.

“They’re all running- buncha cowards if you ask me.”

“Come now, they’re only human. It’s remarkable how they have such survival instincts.”

You shudder silently at the latter’s tone of voice. They spoke about the human race as if they were pets, something subliminal.

It was disgusting.

Pushing away your irritation and sudden urge to defend the human race, you silent keep crawling, until you spot an empty room through one of the vent covers.

Luckily, you didn’t have to pry this one open, the cover popping open immediately one you hooked your fingers underneath the metal.

You slip into the space, dropping down and barely managing to land on your feet, only to lose your balance as the entire tank shudders, mentally sobbing as you realize you were going to hit your head for the second time today, only to be yanked upwards at the last minute and coming face to face with those angered vermillion eyes that had been plaguing you constantly.

Bakugou?!

Your eyes widen, emotions all flooding in at once. You wanted to slap him, but also run away and cry in a corner, or just disappear entirely, too embarrassed for any type of confrontation. And there was one more - you hated yourself for it though. You felt…giddy?

Bakugou however, had no such emotions, eyes taking in his surroundings and listening intently for anyone approaching before returning his sharp gaze back to you.

“What the fuck do ya think yer doin’?!” he whispers harshly, and you will yourself not to flinch or get flustered by his proximity.

“What am I doing here?! What are you doing here?! Were you working for the damn Inimicans this whole time?!” you ask incredulously, shoving the man off of you.

Bakugou looks like he wants to throttle you at the mere implication that he was disloyal, but he seethes in silence, turning away and fisting his blonde locks in irritation.

“Ya bein' here ruins everythin', Shit. How am I supposed to find the main room with ya taggin' along?!” he groans and you feel a spark of anger flare up inside you.

“Captain - I’ve proven myself time and time again that I’m a competent warrior- you said before that I wasn’t ready, that I haven’t seen people die, but I’ve tortured, killed, and almost died twice for my country- is that not enough?! Before I was inexperienced, and that’s fine- but to judge me and hate me now just because I’m a girl-”

“Ya think I’m pissed off because yer a fuckin' girl?! I don’t fucking care about that shit. Hell - my own Ma is probably better at fighting then half of our army. No, I’m fucking pissed because ya lied. Make a fool outta me and then ya go and get yerself fucking stabbed to save me,” he snaps - you feel your throat dry.

He- what?

The captain rolls his eyes, scoffing and making his way to the door of the room, listening intently before straightening up.

“Are ya comin' or what?” he grumbles, seeming oddly subdued in a way, but you decide to overlook it as you clear your throat, nodding briefly, following him and slipping into the hallway.

You could feel your heartbeat as you slowly make your way down the compact hall, gripping onto your dagger like your life depended on it.

Technically, it did.

Then, you hear voices down the hall again.

Shit!

Your body freezes up, unsure of what to do, but Bakugou’s arm encircles around your waist and tugs you harshly, slipping into a small, stuffy room that held a box attached to multitudes of wires, along with some levers and switches.

And either due to the small space or abundance of machinery, it was really hot.

Especially since the only way you both could fit in there was with your face smothered into Bakugou’s firm chest.

The gods really didn’t let you off easy, did they?

You feel hot and your heartbeat was pounding wildly. What do you do, just stand there?!

You can’t see Bakugou’s face in the darkness, trying to interpret what he’s thinking, until more voices resurface - a recognizable one.

You freeze, as panic sets in, realizing who was speaking.

“Ugh, that stupid bitch cut through my shoulder, I can barely move it,” the man grumbles, his low voice haunting. “Can’t believe I wasted so much on her.”

Dabi.

You tense up, fear clouding every corner of your mind as your concentrated breaths turn short and ragged.

Shit shit shit���what if he finds you?!

You grip your abdomen, almost wanting to throw up, phantom pain searing in your mind as you remember the sickening scent of melting flesh.

You would’ve been lost to the mental onslaught had it not been for Bakugou. His large, callused hand coming up to gently press your head against him, a sign of protection when he sensed your distraught nature, grounding you back to reality.

“The boss is gonna be disappointed if he finds out a stupid girl is what takes you down,” another voice says - it’s the amber eyed man.

“Tch. Fuck off Sako. I’m still your leader,” Dabi snaps, and you just hear Sako’s chuckles as the two walk away.

You and Bakugou relax for a moment, only to both freeze up when you hear Dabi’s voice again.

“Ugh, the lights are flickering again. Should we check the fuse box while we’re here?” Dabi asks, and your heart pounds.

The fuse box…was that the box that you saw earlier?! In the same room you were now!?

Your mind runs on autopilot as you start to hyperventilate slightly, Bakugou’s arms tightening around you as the footsteps get closer again.

Shit!

You grip your dagger tightly, fear pounding through your veins. Fighting Dabi last time was bad enough… Bakugou doesn’t even know what the man’s capable of.

Could you protect the both of you? You knew it was a stupid idea the moment in crossed your mind, one encounter with Dabi was devastating enough. What would you do now?

Suddenly, the amber-eyed man - Sako - speaks up, and everything in your mind goes silent.

“C’mon Lieutenant. We probably shouldn’t keep the boss waiting, we’re almost to the palace,” Sako says, and sighs. “Plus, the stupid lights will probably fix themselves. The Palanquin’s been through worse.”

You can practically envision the snowy haired man rolling his eyes, exhaling a sigh of his own and following Atsuhiro out of the hall.

You and Bakugou breathe out in relief, looking at each other in the dim light and make a silent agreement to not talk about the position the two of you were in, opening the door and checking the hallway to make sure the coast was clear.

It was empty, and yet, you still felt uneasy, bringing your index and thumb together.

“Why the fuck do ya keep doing that weird finger shit for, eh?” he mutters.

You pointedly decide to ignore him and instead looking in the direction you hear Dabi and Sako went down, nudging the blonde and motioning down the hallway.

“They said they were going to see their boss. So whoever we’re looking for must be in that direction too,” You murmur and Bakugou grunts in assent, surprising you to see him so complacent.

You try to breathe, but your fear still lays shrouded over you like icicles stabbing into your skin.

Dabi, Sako, Shuichi, the strange blonde, hell, maybe even Aoyama, alongside one of the greatest military minds in the world?

Could you and Bakugou really take on all of them, at once?

You swallow thickly, pressing the nail on your index finger so hard into the flesh of your thumb it might’ve drawn blood.

You steel yourself, mentally scolding yourself for thinking in such a manner. The battlefield was the last place where one should be wrecked by cowardice.

No.

You had to do this.

You were a warrior.

The narrow hallway eventually ends at a thick metal door, with no latch or lock, just a simple doorknob.

You lock eyes with Bakugou, silently adjusting your dagger in your hand and watch as he subtly nods his head, and with that, you open the door.

***

What.

The.

Fuck.

There, in the middle of an ornate room was an elaborate chair, and on it sat a man with no eyes, no nose, and no hair at all. All that was on his face was a sickening smile that grew wider upon noticing you. Around him were the men that infiltrated your village, along with a man with sky blue hair and a girl your age with an almost delirious smile on her face.

You stand still, eyes wide. Something was wrong, you were making a mistake.

“Ba-” you try to force out, sending a warning to your captain, but he doesn’t listen, lunging for the deformed man, only for the latter to hold out his hand. Bakugou’s form stops mere millimeters in front of the Inimican leader.

He was a matter manipulator - a Shigaraki.

Fuck.

And yet, you can’t bring your damn body to move, despite not being under control by the man before you.

He smiled, a grin stretched far too tight across his face - directed at you, and that’s when you realized he knew you’d be here.

“So, this is your little poppy, eh Touya?” the man chuckles, his voice deep and disgustingly soothing, like poison laced in honey.

Dabi flinches and you can’t help but feel intrigued. Was Dabi not his real name? You notice his jaw clench and he looks away.

The eyeless man sighs, returning his focus to you.

“Now Y/N, you - unlike this young man over here - knew better to stay put. And from what I hear, you’re quite the fighter too,” he says, and it disgusts you how warm and fatherly he sounded.

“How curious indeed, someone who's not only withstood countless fatal injuries, but a woman in the military, too. How ever did you manage to pull that off?” the man asks, sounding genuinely curious, like a child wondering how the world worked, treating you like something small and insignificant had managed something of note.

It was patronizing.

You stayed silent though, glaring at him, only faltering once you saw Bakugou’s still figure. Normally, you wouldn't have cared less, given the pain he put you through and how he treated you like nothing, but something told you he didn’t suffer from as big of an ego and superiority complex as you thought.

You sigh, cursing yourself and the blond man for breaking down your walls so easily.

“Let him go,” you mutter, deciding to direct your fury into the area where the man’s eyes would be.

He only smiles again, and sets his arm down to lay on the armrest of his chair.

Bakugou falls immediately, but regains his footing, letting out a loud roar and charging only for the man to hold up his hand in warning - not physically doing anything, but the threat was clear.

“Who…who are you…?” you ask warily, and all the eyes in the room turn to you.

“Call me…” he paused for a minute, before looking back at you with that eyeless stare.

“All for One.”

***

“Awww! Her reaction is so cute! Can I keep her?” the girl asks excitedly and All for One waves at her dismissively.

“Now, Himiko, where’s the fun in that? I’m curious as to what she’ll do personally,” he says, an unsettling eyeless gaze drilling holes into your soul. “Of course, I’m sure she’ll want to fight alongside her partner here - I suggest all of you leave the room.”

The people around All for One all clamor in protest, but they begrudgingly leave, save for one.

“Wait,” he calls out, his voice booming in the room. “Kurogiri, you stay.”

The man with the sky blue hair stops, silently turning around and returning to All for One’s side. The latter motions to you, but addresses the one next to him.

“Does she look familiar?” he asks, and you feel Kurogiri’s piercing gaze, along with Bakugou’s confused and suspicious one.

You only clench your dagger tighter, glaring at All for One and Kurogiri, deciding to speak up.

“I’ve never seen him in my life, so why don't you all ju-”

“She’s Aizawa’s daughter,” Kurogiri states blankly, and you still. “Isn’t she?”

Wh-who was this man? You flinch, feeling your heart hammer in your chest.

As if reading your mind, All For One smiles, warm but condescending nonetheless.

“Y/N, this is Oboro Shirakumo.” he says, and your heart drops. “He’s also going to be the one to fight you.”

***

He's…what?! Wasn’t he supposed to be dead?!

You couldn’t. Killing the man whose ‘death’ wrecked your father for years… to fight him…would make you a monster.

Sensing your absolute horror, Bakugou speaks up.

“And why the fuck are we fightin' him? We should be fighting yer ass if anythin'.” Bakugou snaps.

All for One only chuckles. “Now, if you were to fight me, that wouldn’t be as fun, would it? Plus, it’d only be an easy victory for me. Instead you’ll fight him. If you win, I’ll surrender my troops and we return back to Inimicus. And if you don’t…well, you know what happens, poppy.”

You swallow thickly, experiencing unwanted deja vu. Dabi- Touya had made an almost identical offer to you., but you couldn’t back down now, it was too late.

You want to crawl out of your own skin, hide in an endless void, curl up into a ball and live the rest of your life without all the death and destruction around you, but you were so very painfully limited.

“Fine.”

He smiles wickedly, all the more confirmation that your fate was sealed.

***

“Now, one on two isn’t fair is it… how about I even out the playing field?” he asks, and even though the phrases it like a question, you knew you had no choice in the matter. You were just a fascinating puppet to him.

But that wasn’t the chilling part. It was who stepped into the room as soon as All for One spoke.

It was Genken.

***

All for One left as if he wasn’t there in the first place, the world around him warping until he wasn’t in the room, all in the matter of seconds.

Leaving only you, Oboro, Genken, and Bakugou.

Unsheathing his sword, Oboro looks at you impassively as if urging you to start.

But you don’t - frozen in shock for the fifth time that day (you weren’t sure, you’d lost count), instead, Bakugou does, lunging at the former officer with such intensity you see why they call him the War Dragon. Vermillion eyes narrowed in concentration as he takes on Genken furiously.

“I- FUCKIN' TRUSTED YA- PIECE OF SHIT!” He roars, rage overcoming his handsome features as he keeps slashing at the man you thought you could trust- only for the latter for dodge and parry with such expertise that you realize were traditional Belloran swordsman techniques.

The thought fills you with rage - he didn’t have the right.

***

“So, daughter of Aizawa. Let’s see if you live up to your name,” Oboro says, handing you a sword that you take numbly.

Fighting back the tears that threaten to spill, you finally snap back to reality, swallowing as your father’s best friend stands in front of you with no emotion in his eyes. He was nothing like the man you had heard about from Hizashi - warm, funny, energetic, and most of all, kind.

You swallow down the bile that threatens to rise in your throat. This wasn’t Oboro, this was Kurogiri. He’s not the man he was before.

You steady yourself, gripping your dagger tightly.

“Bring it on.”

Both of you run at each with incredible speed, minds operating the same way, anticipating moves before they were made, and zeroing in on possible openings. In a way, it was like you were fighting yourself.

Staring intently into his blue eyes, it almost hurts how painfully empty they are, how they were soulless, empty, devoid of any emotion.

Your brief moment of hesitation was your downfall.

Kurogiri hooks his foot behind yours, forcing you to fall on your back and effectively knocking the breath out of you.

Shit.

You close your eyes, holding your breath as the cold sting of metal finds its way underneath your chin.

Were you finally going to die?

Tears finally spill from your eyelids, wishing you could’ve seen your family one last time.

“You…,” he breathes, blue eyes drilling into you. “Are so much like your father.”

That catches you off guard. But what shocks you even more is when his hardened gaze softens the smallest bit when he finally takes you in. And then the tears start to fall.

“Shit…,” he curses under his breath and when he looks at you in your eyes, they’re full of pain, pleading almost.

“Kill me," he whispers. Your heart drops - he was asking you to end his life.

No, no, maybe you could do something maybe-

Suddenly, Oboro’s eyes widen as his fingers trail down to his side, his hand covered in sticky blood.

Wait- but you didn't-!

Then his eyes close, and he rolls off of you, collapsing onto the floor, a wry smile forming on his lips.

“Tell…tell Shota I say hi,” he whispers weakly, one last tear slipping down his face before his chest stops heavy, his breaths slowing down until there were none left.

He was dead.

“No no no, shit! Oboro, please, you can’t die like this, my dad, he-” you choke out, scrambling to his side, wincing as your own injuries prevent you from moving as quickly as you’d like.

“Weak,” you hear, turning around, and remembering he was there, too.

Genken.

Bakugou’s bleeding severely, and he looks like he’s about to pass out. Genken, however, looked completely unscathed, and the sight was unnerving.

“Why..?” you croak out, throat dry from the tension and tears. “My dad…how could you-”

Genken barks out a humorless laugh, his once comforting and kind eyes now spiteful.

“Shota?! Do you seriously think I’d care about him? What he’s been through is nothing compared to what I’ve had to endure.”

You want to throttle him, anger bubbling up inside of you, but you had to stay calm. Bakugou was in a terrible condition, and so were you. You suspected Genken was more than he was letting on.

"Your wife- your son, Daki-!" you choke out.

“My wife died 10 years ago giving birth to my son. The doctors gave my son cheap treatment and he died of illness the next day. Your father-” Genken stops momentarily, and you see the tears forming in his eyes. “Doesn’t fucking know what I’ve had to go through.”

You stare at him, conflicted. Swallowing thickly, you look at him in his eyes.

“You are not a mourning father,” you snap, voice shaking as you feel your own rush of emotions. “You are a monster.”

Your legs move on their own, after staying frozen for so long, finally knowing what to do.

Genken brandishes his sword, expecting you to fight with your blade but you instead swing your upper arm across your body, pushing his neck down while using your foot to kick the back of his kneecaps, pushing him to the floor just as his sword slices at your side.

You cry out in pain, but hold him firmly, just as Bakugou roars with a final burst of energy, plunging his sword into the crazed man’s heart.

It was over.

Except, tonight, the gods decided to be cruel to you.

The split second after Genken was defeated, your body erupted in pain- as if white hot fire was searing your skin, and you release a soundless scream in agony, your heartbeat rapid and your breathing ragged.

Shit shit shit shit.

The liquid in the vial’s effects had worn out.

Shit.

All you remember is Bakugou’s faint voice, yelling your name.

***

Your head feels like cotton. Again. Third time’s a charm, right? You snort mentally at your own joke.

Your body feels numb, and you feel the pulse of your heartbeat in your temples.

“Ugh…,” you groan, sleepily blinking open your eyes. There, standing at your side, was everyone - Eri, Hitoshi, your father, Kirishima, Denki, Hanta, Chiyo, Izuku and his mother, Ochako, even Toshinori.

But the one person that you noticed first was Bakugou, sitting in a chair next to your bed and eye bags underneath his vermillion irises. He wore a number of bandages, just like you did, and looked just as drained, and yet, he was here.

With you.

You shoved down the butterflies that fluttered in your chest and instead sent a tired grin to your family and friends.

It was finally over.

· · ─────── · ᴛᴡᴏ ᴅᴀʏꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ · ─────── · ·

The parades in Bellorant were non-stop, night and day, throughout the capital.

Bakugou would be spotlighted during the occasion, and though he wasn’t happy about it, he ended up receiving all the credit considering a major issue would arise if the public knew that a female was in the ranks.

It was stupid, you knew, considering they were more upset about a woman than a literal traitor. It didn't anger you as much as it should have, though.

As long as your loved ones were safe.

You found out that you had gone into shock from the pain when the effects of the vial wore out in The Palanquin, leaving Bakugou to carry you out in his arms, threatening to kill anyone who got in his way as he rushed to his parent’s home within the capital where his father treated you.

The blonde had alerted your family, and thanks to Kirishima, all your friends had come too.

Everything felt so surreal, now that it was over. You stopped a war, after all. And it was strange, being surrounded by peaceful quiet instead of deafening bloodshed.

It didn’t stop the nightmares though.

PTSD, it was called, when someone received severe mental trauma from certain events. Symptoms varied between different people, but for you, it was through extreme paranoia and nightmares.

They’d be a part of you, no matter what, everything that had happened. It was life changing and not something you could forget, even if you wanted to.

Tonight, however, was especially bad, waking up in a cold sweat and heart pounding from a dream you don’t even remember. But you were too on edge to go back to sleep. You slip out of the house and down to a lake nearby.

It was quiet, but not silent, the soothing sounds of crickets and the small sloshes of water put your mind to ease, letting yourself close your eyes and soothed by the sounds of nature.

“Hey,” a gruff voice breaks you out of your reverie, and you look up to see those same pair of vermillion eyes that seemed to follow you everywhere now.

“M’sorry.”

“Thank you.”

You both say at the same time, catching each other off guard and you let out a small laugh, and Bakugou’s eyes soften just the smallest fraction.

“You go first,” he says, sitting down on the cool grass beside you.

“What I meant to say was…thanks. For everything. For saving me, and helping me get better. I lied to you and betrayed your trust, I undermined your authority, and you still saved my life, I just…,” you trail off becoming self conscious as you ramble. “Don’t know how to repay you.”

Bakugou clicks his teeth, looking out at the water before speaking, his voice low, but you hear it, clear as a bell.

“Ya shouldn’t be thankin me,” he admits, anxiously pulling out blades of grass underneath him. “I…was wrong. I was selfish and stupid- yer fuckin' strong I just-” he stops, trying to find the right words to say. “Didn’t know how to react.”

“It’s okay, Bakugou. I forgive you. I’m not exactly the easiest person to get along with.”

Bakugou snorts and gives you a wolfish smile. “Tch, ya don’t take shit and I respect that. M’glad yer not a fuckin' pushover or somethin', always catering to my every whim. Those people are pathetic.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That reminds me, shouldn’t you be at the parade right now?” you ask quizzically, wondering how he managed to slip away from such a big event.

He rolls his eyes. “M’not takin credit for shit I didn’t do. All I needed to do was show my face.”

You giggle slightly at that, enjoying the sentiment before laying down on the grass, reveling in its nice contrast to the warm summer air.

You sit there in silence, enjoying each other’s company and the peaceful scenery of the lake- but then Bakugou speaks up.

“Y/N,” he says, unsure of how to phrase his question.

“Hm?” you hum, turning your gaze to him.

“Ya said, back on The Palanquin, that ya had almost died twice. I know…I know ya almost died saving me, but what was the second?” he asks quietly, a huge contrast to his brash demeanor. He was subdued, just like he had been at the end of your tualia.

You stay silent for a moment, carefully picking out the right words to say.

“I…” you trail off, taking in a deep breath. Talking or even thinking about Dabi terrified you, but you knew you couldn’t keep it in forever.

And so you told Bakugou everything.

When you finish, you have tears in your eyes, and a heavy pit in your stomach.

Bakugou looks at you, eyes wide and eyebrows creased. “So that’s why All for One seemed so familiar with ya.” he murmurs and he reaches out to squeeze your shoulder in comfort.

“Y’know…when I carried ya back to my parents' house, you were talking,” he says, grimacing as if he didn’t want to acknowledge the memory, casting his gaze back out to the lake.

“W-Was I…?” you ask warily, hoping you didn’t say anything incriminating in your pain-induced delirious state.

“Ya asked me to let ya die.” he says grimly, and ya notice the muscles in his jaw clench. “I-It was pretty fuckin' terrifyin’.” He chuckles sourly, and returns his gaze to you.

“I…I know war is scary. It scars ya in ways ya never realized it could and it makes ya question yer morals, yer ideals. Ya feel like ya don’t know yerself anymore,” he says and you stare at the grass, finding it scary how much the words resonated with you.

“What ya went through, though, I don’t think even General Takami’s been through that shit,” he says, and he stops when you notices the tears in your eyes.

“Hey…shit, m’ sorry I didn’t mean t-” he starts, but he stops when he sees your watery smile.

“Thank you, Bakugou.” you say. “For being here.”

The blonde flushes, and turns to look at the lake again so that you don’t see his expression, but you notice the tips of his ears turn red.

“It’s Katsuki,” he says gruffly, almost silent, but you hear it.

“Huh?” you ask, confused.

“Call me Katsuki,” he says again, almost insistently, turning even redder.

Cute.

You lean over, and press a small kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you… Katsuki.”

Bakugou turns to look back at you, eyes wide but soft. He snorts and wipes away a stray tear that falls down his cheek.

“Yer too forgivin, ya know that?” he says, and you squeeze his hand, a blush of your own dusting your cheeks.

He brings up a callused hand to your jawline, turning your face slowly to him, and drawing you closer.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and for a moment you see a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

“Yes,” you breathe, and he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips against yours tenderly, kissing you like he’ll never be able to again.

This was nice, you thought, sitting here by the lake with Katsuki.

Maybe you'd get your shot at happiness after all.

Taglist: @andysdrafts @starieq @nemisimp @missa-archdevilme @coquettefoxxy

@032loe @icedemon1314 @fta1ask4 @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @cuppalevi

@touyasprettydoll @slayfics @yeehawgiddyup13 @notjustanotherextra @frvv

@meliibby @tomiokasecretlover @isentsworld @bkgpackets @moonnm

@bkgrl @satoruyes @eyesforbkg @juicyfingers @aejabba

@noodleryworld @yui-aya @ashiblossom @rv19 @wheezdostuff

@yannvi @liluvtojineteyam @ah-mya @surprisemodafakas

@kksmush @sagejin @cax-per @kit-katsukii @l-bozo-l

@m-0ona @hyori2 @k0zume @scarlet-swan @chuugarettes

@geniejunn

A/N: Guys…it’s over… Holy shit it’s over 😭😭 I seriously can’t thank you all enough for all the support I got for Warrior- thank you all for sticking around 🙏🙏 This has definitely been an emotional roller coaster and I’m so glad I managed to bring this story full circle 🤍 Extra big thanks to @cashmoneyyysstuff for reading the entire series before posting <3 It’s been an honor to have you read this Elle 😭🥰 Shoutout to @peachsukii as well for checking this last chapter :)

[sunflowerwizard]

We Don't Talk About Abdel: the ""Canon"" Gorion's Ward and Why I Hate Him

If you've only played Baldur's Gate 3 you may have heard of Abdel Adrian. The Hero of Baldur's Gate, late Grand Duke, and Bhaalspawn who died, badly.

There is, unfortunately a lot you might not know. Spoilers ahead for the original Baldur's Gate, Baldur's Gate 2: Shadows of Amn, and Baldur's Gate 2: Throne of Bhaal. And their shitty novelizations you should not read.

Your choices matter. Allegedly.

There are many ways to handle continuity in a series of choice-heavy RPGs with custom main characters. There's the approach the original Fallout games did, by setting the second installment long enough after the first, that your player character can be vaguely alluded to without much friction. There's the Bioware approach, of uploading your save data from previous games to slightly effect the world in the next one. And then there's the Baldur's Gate series, which splits the difference and makes the worst of both worlds: a century has past and there's no cheeky vagueness to transplant your own player character as the Hero of Baldur's Gate. It is Abdel Adrian's world and we are merely living in it.

I'd argue there's one thing that very clearly separates a Commander Shepherd from an Abdel Adrian, and that's serving a role in a game that lines up with the story being told.

What's the deal with Bhaalspawn?

I'd like to get one thing out of the way first. Bhaalspawn =/= The Dark Urge. I only mention this because I've seen some people assume all Bhaalspawn operate on the "sleeper cell turbo murderer" framework that the DU does. The majority of the first Baldur's Gate game, the player character themself doesn't know they're in any way unusual. You get ominous dream sequences as the story progresses, up until the Big Reveal.

At which point, one of the themes reveals itself: nature versus nurture. Your PC is a 20-something year old young adult who lived inside a walled town, and had their entire support system torn away the second they left. Unless you've chosen to roleplay that way, they may not have ever felt a particular inclination towards violence. This is in stark contrast with Big Bad, your half-brother Sarevok whose upbringing was filled with struggle and violence.

It's even more apparent in Throne of Bhaal, when you're confronted with it outright: what if your places had been switched? Maybe you would've committed even more atrocities than your half-brother.

We now have to talk about the books. Unfortunately. Canonically the novelization of Baldur's Gate is the origin of Abdel Adrian. He is Philip Athans' brainchild and there's fuck all we can do about it. Unless I get a word of god response from Wizards of the Coast or story beats are directly contradicted in other BG-related media that has come out since, I am treating the events of the books as canon.

A narrative treadmill of a character arc

The game starts out in relatively bog-standard hero's journey fashion. It's morning in Candlekeep, you're leaving home for the very first time with your adoptive dad, and he's been very cagey about the details other than "we need to leave, I'll explain later."

Abdel Adrian, has already left Candlekeep at the start of the novel. He's already in his mid-twenties, and has been traveling the Sword Coast as a sword-for-hire for nearly a decade (presumably cornering the child soldier market). He also really likes killing people, hence his line of work. The big inciting incident with Gorion happens because he sent Abdel a letter about needing to talk, at which point Sarevok shows up, kills Gorion, who tells Abdel to seek out Jahiera and Khalid with his dying breath.

I'll break down my issues with this point by point. -Abdel is very clearly not a level 1 character. Perhaps this is a petty point, but isn't half the fun of this style of fantasy story watching the protagonist grow in skill, until they can eventually face off against the seemingly indomitable Big Bad? Spoiler: Abdel is already at the peak of his Swordsmanship Power™ and we will not see any growth on that front.

-What are the stakes, actually? We went from "everything I know and love has been torn away from me. I'm a level 1 adventurer in a big, dangerous world and cannot go home." to "I'm a big tough fighterman with a penchant for murder who's going to avenge the father figure the book tell-not-shows you I cared about" Like my previous point, we have no baseline, no sense of what the main character has truly lost. I'm much less interested in watching someone start from the middle and fight their way to the top, than seeing someone from rock bottom getting there.

-His Bhaalspawn heritage manifests itself as murdergremlin tendencies. If you've not encountered a player with murdergremlin tendencies while playing a ttrpg, you've almost certainly heard horror stories about them. The guy who loves to escalate encounters into combat, who threatens and maims because "it's what my character would do" and often times view themselves as the main character.

If that sounds exhausting, this is the character whose head we're trapped inside. A guy whose two big motivators are murder and sex, whose external moral compass is his love interest (Jahiera deserved better). AND EVEN THEN by the end of the second book, the only growth he has experienced as a character is "maybe sometimes I won't murder everyone who makes me angry" when he just point-blank refuses to kill the antagonist of BG2. Oh, but not before he had sex with and violently murdered the other main antagonist who was also a woman.

"Okay the books are awful, but why be angry at Abdel?"

Because by virtue of WOTC continuing to use "Abdel Adrian" as THE Hero of Baldur's Gate and a canon character, those books are still canon. SOME elements had to be retconned for being incongruent with the games (did I mention in the first novel Abdel leaves Khalid to die during a fight in the first novel?) but otherwise? I've seen no revisions to his base character. And now every piece of Baldur's Gate media is built on this shitty, rotten foundation.

Are these points somewhat petty? Yes! Either Wizards should've come up with an entirely new stand-in Bhaalspawn to wash the shit taste of those novelizations out of everyone's mouths, or they should've written future material to only vaguely allude to BG 1&2's protagonist. The Bhaalspawn saga was wrapped up perfectly fine in Throne of Bhaal. Either he should've stayed dead with Cyric taking on his domain, or find another way to bring him back. Abdel Adrian having .0001% Bhaal Juice still in his blood and thus turning into The Slayer is a "Somehow, Palpatine returned" way of doing it.

On the off chance anyone is morbidly curious about the terrible novels, me and some pals did a live-reading not too long ago. If this post gets 100 notes I will make a Greatest Hits compilation of terrible moments. Spoiler: one of them includes the "spider in her cleavage" scene.

[backmuscles21]

Nighttime Visits

Lyle x Reader

Summary: You and Lyle are now recom soldiers, the problem is, you aren't supposed to be together. Doesn't keep you apart for long, you and him still find ways to sneak around.

Slight Lyle X Reader X Quaritch at the end, maybe going to do a part 2 of this and explore more of that dynamic.

Warnings: Smut, cuddle fucking, naked cuddling, humiliation, quiet sex, riding, caught, abs - we're riding this mans abs (I can't stress that enough.)

You were lying in bed after a long day, it was such a tiring day and you barely saw your boyfriend all day. You had put your phone down and rolled onto your side to fall asleep, that’s when you heard the door creaking. You sat up a little and saw the dim light from the hallway and Lyle’s head peeking through, you sat up more. “Baby, it’s me,” Lyle said as he walked in further.

He closed the door and moved some of the covers to get into the bed next to you.

“What are you doing here, if we get caught.”

“I had to come see you. I didn’t know if you’d be up or not but you are and now, I get to hug you all night.”

Lyle pulled you closer into his body, his chin rested on your head. You kissed Lyle’s chest a few times as Lyle’s hand went down your side to rest on your hip and inevitably end up under your shorts to rest on your butt cheek.

Now that you and him were recoms, there were strict rules you both had to follow. Not to mention you were both military, you had to do everything according to what General Ardmore wanted. You weren’t allowed to be in each other’s rooms, you weren’t allowed to really interact outside of friendly soldier-like conduct. Being in a relationship was a big no-no, Ardmore would never allow it, not to mention Quaritch barely allowed it.

You found yourselves sneaking around, most days you didn’t see each other, but occasionally you’d find time for each other. You were together before you became recoms, even then it wasn’t really allowed but you both didn’t care. You found time for each other and you made it work, you were probably the cuddliest of the bunch. Lyle was a hard ass, strict, rude, tough, mean, and strong but also very sweet, loving, shy, caring, and loved cuddling with one of his hands on either your butt or your boobs.

Cuddling together became a big thing for the two of you, you could visit each other at night with nobody around.

You went into Lyle’s room, he was sitting up in bed on his holopad, you couldn’t help but laugh. He looked like if you gave your grandfather an iPad, he looked like he didn’t know what was going on. You opened the door slowly and once you saw him up, you ran to him and into his bed. You were giggling, he looked up from the holopad to see you coming at him. You snuggled into his side and under the covers, he chuckled as he wrapped an arm around you. His hand rubbed up and down your bare arm, as you wrapped your arm over his bare toned abdomen.

He was reading different reports on his holopad his hand kept rubbing soothingly at your arm, your nails were raking over the ridges of his abs. Your head was resting on his pec and as he read through so many reports, you were getting bored, let’s be real, you wanted to fuck. It has been a while and you just wanted him to give you some attention and then you’d initiate, or you could just take his cock out and start jerking him off.

“I feel like I should hand you glasses with how you’re looking at that holopad. You look like a grandpa.”

He smirked down at you, “that would make you old too, ya know.”

“I’m still 10 years younger than you.”

“You’re still almost 50 though.”

“Not anymore. My brain might be but I’m actually like 20 now.”

“We all are, buttercup.”

“Then stop squinting at the screen like you need bifocals,” you grabbed the holopad from his hand and straddled his hips. You placed the holopad on the nightstand next to you both, you rested your hands on his pecs and looked at him with a smile.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Lyle said pushing his leg up to hit your butt making you lean forward to kiss him.

His hands stayed on your hips as you ground yourself on his abs as you made out.

“That good baby? You getting off rubbing yourself on my abs like that?”

You whimper and nodded as Lyle helped you move on his abs faster and harder.

“Let’s take these shorts off, it will feel better,” Layle said as he laid you back and pulled your sleep shorts off.

He placed you back on his toned abs and grabbed your hips and helped you grind on his abs. Your eyes squeezed shut and you whimpered, your slick spreading all over his stomach.

“There we go, see, so much better. Baby, you’re making a mess on me,” Lyle smirked as he leaned you down enough to kiss at your neck.

You ground yourself deeper, desperate for more friction and more stimulation. You moaned out, you sucked on Lyle’s skin by his neck, and occasionally your teeth would scrape against his blue skin. You moaned out as your saliva spread on his collarbone and pec, Lyle’s hands gripped your hips hard and moved you deeper. He liked your noises, he liked that he had access to grip your butt cheeks and still keep you grinding on him.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to cum like this. It’s not enough, I need more. I need your cock, please.”

“You want my cock? Baby that’s all you had to do and I’ll give it to ya. Shame though, I liked watching you get off like this.”

“I’ll ride you and it will basically be the same thing. I just need you deep inside me.”

You knew he was desperately hard; you could feel it growing on your legs as you ground into him. Looking behind you, you could see the giant tent in his sweatpants where his cock was. You moved back to pull his sweatpants down and his cock was now resting on his abdomen.

“Fuck, I can’t not go down on this now,” you said taking his cock into your mouth.

Lyle’s hand brushed over his forehead and onto his scalp, his eyes closed and he moaned lowly. When he felt your nose touch his pelvis, his eyes opened and he gripped your hair, you moaned out which caused him to moan. His hips thrusted up involuntarily, it hit the back of your throat and Lyle grabbed your hair and pulled you off him.

“Baby, that’s hot but I’m gonna hurt you and you’re gonna make me cum. Lemme fuck you first.”

You nodded and moved up to straddle him, Lyle helped you line up his cock to push inside. You moved down slowly at first, letting yourself adjust before you moved faster and sunk down completely. Lyle’s hands gripped your hips, his thumb rubbed at the soft skin of your hips as you took a moment to let yourself get used to him filling you up. You started to move your hips a little, his fingers gripped at your hip bones.

You used your leg muscles to lift yourself up and drop yourself back down, Lyle groaned out as you moved your body on his. You bent your back over to rest your head on his pecs as you continued to move, your body was already stimulated from earlier, it was getting to be too much. Both of you had been stimulated beforehand, Lyle could tell you were dropping off just in terms of you not being as fast anymore. It was hard work to ride someone, it was exhausting and you were already tired. Lyle’s arms wrapped around your torso, keeping you close to him as he rolled you both onto your sides.

“I’ll take care of you baby, don’t worry.”

Lyle brought your leg up to rest on his hip as your other went between his legs, he started to thrust up into you. He loved this position, he loved lazy rough sex, that’s pretty much exactly what this was. He did, however, know that you had to be careful since you were in his room and all the other soldiers were down this hall. You guys had to be quiet but you were almost the exact opposite when it came to having sex with Lyle.

“Keep it down, baby, unless, you wanna get caught.”

“Fuck, Lyle, I can’t. I’m gonna cum.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Cum all over me, baby.”

You came, you squeezed him so hard as your back arched, pushing you away from Lyle’s chest. Lyle still held you close, you didn’t get far, Lyle held you as your body spasmed. Lyle wouldn’t last long now, not after watching and feeling you cum, he couldn’t help it. A few more hard and deep thrusts had him cumming deep inside you with a grunt and tight grip on your hip.

He moved you to lay on top of him, but he didn’t pull out, he liked to stay buried deep in you as he softened. You knew you were going to fall asleep, you were exhausted, you both were.

You woke up in the morning on Lyle’s chest with his dick still deep inside you and his arms wrapped around your waist. You looked up to see Lyle still sleeping soundly, you had to admit he was adorable while sleeping.

Then you noticed it was morning.

“Shit,” you whispered.

“Lyle?”

“Lyle, wake up.”

“Fuck, Lyle. Wake up.”

He stirred lightly and only because you started to move in his arms.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked down at you, he smiled and kissed the top of your head.

“Lyle it’s the fucking morning. Quaritch is gonna skin us alive if he finds out we’re here together.”

“Too late. Somebody wanna explain?” Quaritch said from the corner of Lyle’s room.

You and Lyle both looked at his desk where the desk chair had been pulled out and there sat their colonel.

“Sleepover?” Lyle said questioningly.

You would laugh if you weren’t fucking terrified.

“I knew my two best were fucking each other’s brains out but now they are just playing risky,” Quaritch explained.

“It won’t happen again,” you said.

“Damn right, it won’t. Unless... unless I’m there.”

[emisprocrastinatingbywriting]

Alone and Forsaken

Chapter 3 Summary:

Falling back into old habits, you snoop through Joel's things only to find pieces of his past. After catching you with a certain photo, Joel leaves you in a panic.

Warnings: Angst/Comfort, Religious Trauma, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of drinking, Joel being mean and then soft, spiciness near the end, A/B/O Dynamics

A/N: Hey guys, I'm glad you guys are enjoying it so far. Thank you so much for reading. As always, watch out for a bit of religious trauma if that is something that is a trigger. Minors DNI! Joel is also fighting a losing battle with himself, do we think he's going to be able to keep it in his pants for 6 months?

Chapter 3/20

Chapter 3: The Rebel & The Old Man

Sweat poured down Joel’s back as he ran as fast as his legs would take him. He had been here before, he had run through the halls of Saint Mary’s hospital time and time again only to find Ellie’s corpse. Sometimes it was even Sarah. Either way, he was always too late. The feeling of loss, insurmountable and piercing, burying itself in his chest was usually what woke him up, but this time was different. 

This time Joel had ripped open the door, breathless as he always was and filled with rage, only to find you. You, draped in a gown similar to the one Ellie had worn, except no open skull greeted him. They had put you out, and you laid on the cold table blissfully unaware of the firefly about to start picking at your brain. A fresh wave of panic hit Joel and made him stumble forward into the sterile room. 

An all too familiar voice pulled him from his despair, “What are you doing here?” 

Joel’s head snapped up, a low growl bubbled from the depths of his chest as he came face to face with the man that he wished he could kill twice. Perhaps sensing the bloodlust that had Joel practically frothing at mouth in front of him, the doctor turned away only to grab a scalpel from the surgical tray behind him. 

The man held the scalpel out in front of himself, his hands shaking as he tried desperately to ward Joel off. As if that could hinder the hulking beast that clawed at the confines of Joel’s chest, screaming at him to rip the shaking man apart for even thinking that he could harm you. Pathetic really, Joel thought. 

“I won’t let you take her. This is our future. Think of the liv-,” the blade that Joel had shoved through his throat cut the doctor off as he fell to the ground choking on his blood, eyes wheeling around the room as he retched and shook. Joel had heard the speech before, he didn’t need to hear it again with you in such a vulnerable position behind him. 

Joel heard the nurses screaming as he moved towards you and began to pull the wires off of your frame, cradling you to his chest and breathing in your warmth. 

“NO! YOU FUCKING ANIMAL!,” he heard one of them scream and it made him suppress the laugh that threatened to spill from his lips. An animal? You’re goddamn right I’m a fucking animal, Joel thought to himself as he pushed through the doors. 

As he sprinted through the hospital, trying to dodge the fireflies at every corner, he spoke to you over the bullets whizzing past his head, “It’s okay darling, I’ve gotcha. I’m gonna protect you, I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to you omega.” 

Joel turned the corner, fireflies hot on his heels and swallowing the bile that soured his mouth, only to find an open elevator. For a moment, he felt relief as he moved towards his goal. But then, just as he thought he might actually make it this time, Joel felt his limbs suddenly grow heavy. 

“No, no, no, no…,” Joel cried out as his pace slowed, his voice breaking as tears began to blur his vision, his legs feeling as if they had been filled with cement. 

Joel turned towards his pursuers, suddenly feeling the sickening sting of deja vu as he began to plead for your life. He knew it wouldn’t matter to them, just as it didn’t matter twenty four years earlier when the soldier had killed Sarah. It didn’t stop Joel from crying out, desperately begging for them to spare you. They shot anyway. 

-

Gasping, Joel shot off the couch like a bat out of hell. He whipped his head around the room, disoriented and unsure where he was for a moment. His chest felt tight and as he stood in the living room getting his bearings, he worried for a moment that he was having a heart attack. No, Joel decided, assholes like him didn’t get off that easy. 

Finally catching his breath, the pounding in his head left little black dots in his vision as Joel was greeted with the aroma that crept down the hall from his bedroom. He swayed on his feet as it beckoned him closer. Groaning, Joel scrubbed the tears from his eyes as he lowered himself back down on the now sweat soaked couch. 

What the fuck was he going to do? What had he already done? He shouldn’t have talked to you like that, shouldn’t have let you stay, shouldn’t have pulled you into his lap and let you scent him, he shouldn’t have basked in the feeling of an omega rubbing themselves all over him as he willed himself not to pop his knot like he was a fucking teenager. What the fuck was he thinking? Gritting his teeth, Joel shoved the heels of his hands into his eye sockets as he tried to wade through the shame that filled his being. A shame that was almost like an old friend, one that Joel had grown accustomed to, comfortable even. This process was made incredibly difficult with the delicious smell that had him lifting his nose, a smell that reached into his aching chest to sink its hooks into his lungs and pull him to his feet. 

Fighting against his own nature every step of the way, Joel trudged towards the bedroom. He tried to reason with himself as he moved to open the door, trying desperately to remain in the comfort of his own torment. You were probably sleeping and plus, being the creepy old guy that watched young women sleep is not a good look he tried desperately to hammer into his brain. It was no use and Joel crept into the room as quietly as he could, mouth watering as he gulped down the warm air. 

And there you were, even breaths soothing the sting of loss that plagued him and replacing it with something new. Joel felt a deep sense of purpose slam into him, his movements not even registering as he saw you shiver atop of the blankets. Joel carefully lifted you from the soft mattress, your hand coming up to grasp two of his fingers in a loose fist. Pulling off the covers, Joel laid you back down, allowing you to keep holding him as he fussed with the pillow behind your head for a moment before he was satisfied. The need to provide sated, Joel moved towards the door feeling as though he might fall asleep before he even reached the couch. 

This plan was thwarted as the loose grasp on his fingers tightened, holding him hostage. Joel stood over you a moment, unsure of what to do. Yes, Joel could pull his fingers from your grasp easily, yet he hesitated. Looking down at you sleeping, Joel suddenly felt greedy. He needed to stay, to make sure you slept well, to make sure you didn’t need anything, and how dare he think of doing something that might disturb your sleep? Joel sighed, coming to the realization that fighting off the overwhelming urge to satiate your every need was like fighting with the wind. 

Letting his own instincts overwhelm him, Joel dropped to his knees along the bedside and covered your hand in his. Ignoring the ache that already bit at the muscles in his legs, Joel laid his chin on the mattress and watched you through tired eyes. The feeling that Joel felt as he looked at you in that moment was indescribable, like someone had found a way to pump ativan into the air he breathed. Feeling his heart rate slow and tense muscles finally ease, Joel drifted off at your bedside. 

- You -

A breeze woke you from a dreamless sleep, your hair tickling your nose as air bristled through the strands. You hummed, moving to stretch your arms over your head before you felt a warm weight covering one of your hands. Your eyes snapped open, gasping as you found a beautiful yet confusing sight. 

Joel slept at your bedside, leaned forward on his knees with his face almost meeting yours on the pillow. One hand covered your own, a layer of sweat forming between you, while he used the other for a pillow under his pink cheek. His breath puffed out from his lips, fanning out over your face and making you smile. He looked so peaceful like this, almost childlike with the lines on his face soothed by rest. 

You reached out a hand, tentatively smoothing down the curls that had flopped over his forehead and cupping his whiskered cheek. Joel made a small noise, nose twitching for a moment before he settled back into his slumber. You wondered if he knew how striking he was and you longed to wake him so that you could tell him, but you decided against it. 

Suddenly feeling how parched you were, you took him in once more, memorizing his beauty before you eased your hand out from under his. Joel’s fingers twitched momentarily, as if annoyed by your departure, and you waited until he settled before you crept off the bed and out of the room. 

Shivers shook your frame as you moved into the living room, the floors biting unforgivingly at your feet. It was so much warmer in the room with Joel, heat seemed to radiate from his large frame and cover you like a blanket. Ignoring the urge to go back into the cocoon of his company, you drifted into the kitchen and pilfered through the fridge before finding a water bottle. Tearing off the lid, you tilted your head and let the cold water slide down your throat. 

Thirst quenched, you decided to poke around some more. Curiosity killed the Christian, you remembered hearing Josiah say when you had questioned his teachings once. You laugh quietly, remembering how Rachel shot her mate a sharp look as she had sucked her teeth at that. Miriam had pulled you aside after that bible study, your arm smarting from the surprising strength the small woman had used to yank you into a corner. You remember Miriam telling you not to listen to him, that you came from a people that asked questions about everything. Before you could ask what she meant your mother had snatched you from Miriam’s grasp, sending an icy glare her way.

“Do not fill her head with your own beliefs,” your mother had spat, twisting your wrist in her grasp as you winced. 

Miriam opened and closed her mouth, softening her gaze as she looked between you and your mother before she spoke. 

“But her father…,” she sighed before continuing, “She has a right to know about her own people, he wouldn’t have wanted his daughter -” 

“Do not think to speak to me about what Abe wanted, you have no right,” your mother had replied, her voice now cold. 

You watched as Rachel moved towards her mate, smelling the anguish that was souring Miriam’s scent as she stood in front of your mother. Arm wrapping around her waist, she accessed the situation before asking if everything was okay. 

“Fine,” your mother had said, her voice dripping with sarcasm before she stepped towards Miriam threateningly. 

Lowering her voice she practically growled at the older omega, placing her body in front of you in a show of protectiveness you didn’t even know she was capable of. 

“I would like to remind you of the situation you are in, with your… history. Do you think he would forgive you if that got out? That he would just let it go?” 

Miriam’s head snapped up, her eyes widening in fear as your mother snarled at her. 

“Do you think that my daughter is protected because of me? That he would let it go if he knew?,” a bitter laugh left your mother’s thin lips before she continued on, “No. She would end up like the rest. So the next time you want to be valiant and teach MY pup something out of some misplaced loyalty to her father, I would like to remind you that Abe would have wanted her ALIVE.” 

After that incident your mother had locked you inside for nearly a month, not even allowing you out to go to bible study. Punishment, she had told Josiah, for being too nosy about sinful things. He hadn’t questioned it, seemingly thrilled at your mother’s show of righteousness. Annoyed, and confused as to what had passed between Miriam and your mother, you had swallowed your protests and scrubbed every inch of the house while mulling over what Josiah had said. 

You decided that you agreed with Miriam, even though you couldn’t grasp what she had meant by YOUR people. You would have to swallow your curiosity for the foreseeable future. You resigned yourself to silence, but not compliance. You would not ask Josiah where he put the books he had confiscated from Jake’s aunt, books that had her locked in the pit for two weeks, rather you would wait until he looked the other way before snatching them from the burn pile. Sliding two of them under your thick sweater, you had feigned a sudden burst of nausea so that you could run home and shove them underneath the floorboards in your room, where they would stay until Jake could collect them. 

Sneaking around had become a second nature to you, and you were comforted by the habit as you tiptoed throughout the cabin, softly opening drawers and sifting through the contents. There wasn’t much, a few fishing flies, a couple of comic books from a series called Savage Starlight shoved under the extra blankets in the linen closet, a few guitar picks here and there, nothing that out of place. That was until you reached the side table next to the couch. Kneeling down and easing the drawer open, you were greeted with pictures. 

The first was of a younger Joel, maybe mid twenties, smiling next to a younger man dressed sharply in a military uniform. The younger man is handsome, with his black curls slicked back and an easy smile on his face as he jokingly saluted the camera, but not quite as handsome as the man that stands at his side, sticking his thumb out in the younger man’s direction as if to say get a load of this guy. It dawned on you that the younger man is Joel’s brother, had to be, as your eyes bounced between the two faces frozen in the picture. You flipped the picture, reading the loopy cursive writing on the back. 

Tommy’s Basic Training graduation, look at my handsome boys! 

You smiled, placing the picture on the side table before grabbing the next one. The next one showed two young boys, the older one undoubtedly Joel as his puppy dog eyes stared back at you. You suppressed a giggle as you took in his cowboy costume, Joel’s thumbs hooked into his belt loops, and a fake scowl on his face like a true gunslinger. His brother, Tommy you remember, stood next to him dressed like a vampire as he sobbed at the camera. A man with Joel’s eyes and nose was crouched in between them with his arms around their shoulders, a vein popping out of his forehead from how hard he was laughing. Curious once more, you flipped the picture. 

After weeks of begging, Tommy decided he wanted to be a cowboy, maybe next year we should get two of whatever Joel wants - haha! 

You laughed at that, placing the picture atop the other one before digging out the last one. You stilled as your eyes scanned the glossy paper, the bitter feeling of guilt swirling in your gut. You shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be going through Joel’s stuff when he has already done so much for you, you should put the pictures back and forget about them. But you don’t. You sit there and look at a younger Joel, smiling easily as his large hand covers the eyes of a curly haired young girl. One of her hands covers his, clearly trying and failing to pull his hand off as she laughed at his antics. You shakily flipped the photo, bile rising from your churning stomach as you read the back of the last photo. 

Joel and Sarah Miller - 2002 

Guilt filled you as you read the words over and over. It was his daughter, you knew that for sure as you saw the shape of his lips and his dimples mirrored onto the girl’s face. You felt like you had been punched, your heart shattering for Joel. He had lost his pup? A small whine left your lips as you turned the picture around. Poor Joel, poor alpha. 

“What the fuck are you doing?,” a gruff voice snapped, breaking you from your pity. 

You froze, a feeling of dread making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Sighing, you looked up at the dark figure standing in the doorway. Joel’s hair was a mess, curls matted against his face on one side and standing straight up on the other like he had been electrocuted. His cheeks lined from the sheets and eyes slightly watery, you watched as Joel went from groggy to alert in seconds as he took in the scene before him. 

So many emotions flickered on his face. Confusion, surprise, sadness, before finally landing on anger. Squaring his shoulders, Joel stomped over to you, snatching the pictures from you before he shoved them back into the drawer. Slamming it shut, Joel flared his nostrils as he looked down at you in a sullen silence. 

“I-I…Joel, I am so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff, I didn’t… I’m sorry,” you said, eyes pleading as you looked up at his face while his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. 

The glare Joel gave you felt like a knife through your heart. You couldn’t even stop the whimper you let out as he narrowed his eyes before letting out a venomous, “Don’t.” 

Joel turned from you then and picked up his jacket from the hook near the door, shoving his arms into the sleeves aggressively. Grumbling to himself, he worked on lacing up his boots as you trailed behind him anxiously. 

“Joel, I didn’t mean to. Please, don’t go, it’s not even light out yet. Just wait a few hours until sunrise. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sor-,” he cut you off with just a look and tears began to spill down your cheeks as he pushed past you, slamming the door on the way out. 

Silence hits you like a freight train, a bitter feeling of loneliness drawing a loud sob from you. Sinking down to your hands and knees as your cries echoed off the walls of the empty cabin, you felt like you had just lost a limb. You flopped forward onto the cold ground, curling up into a ball as hot tears ran down your cheeks, filling your open mouth as you wailed. 

- Joel - 

Betrayal. 

There’s no other words for what Joel felt in this moment. He felt betrayed by you. It wasn’t the fact that you had gone through his things, he almost expected that. You’d be stupid not to make sure he didn’t have a closet full of skin suits or something creepy like that. Joel had expected a certain level of snooping. It wasn’t that you had found his pictures either. He did feel slightly uncomfortable seeing you hold a picture of his dead daughter, feeling like he should have told you for a moment before shaking himself out of his reverie. He had to remind himself that didn’t know you like that, you weren’t his. 

None of that had bothered Joel, which was surprising to him. No, what had bothered him was the way that you had looked at him. Pity had drawn your features in tight, regarding Joel like he was a kicked puppy. It had shocked him, anger boiling his blood as he watched you looking at him like he was helpless. How dare you? He wasn’t helpless, he was perfectly fine, fuck you for making him feel that way. 

Joel walked through the twilight, the sun teasing the dark sky with its presence as he growled to himself. He didn’t know where he was going, he just needed to get away from you before he said something he would regret or worse, before he broke down in tears. He couldn’t do that, that would just serve as proof that what you thought about him was true. Helpless, he thought as he angrily kicked the rocks beneath his feet. 

Maybe Joel was overreacting, he knew that, but the look you had given him seemed to solidify what he already knew. That he was incapable of doing… literally anything he was supposed to do. You knew that Sarah had died now, proving that he was a bad alpha, a bad protector. Imagine how much worse it would be if you found out about Ellie. He groaned, imagining how his already bruised dignity would be squashed under your pitiful glance. Joel tore at his hair for a moment before continuing to weave through the trees, stopping as he came to the river. 

The roar of the river distracted him for a moment, watching as the water swelled over the banks, lifting the plants that resided there for a moment before rushing downstream. Joel took a breath, coming back to himself as his heart slowed. His eyes moved over to the spot he had found you, now covered with the swollen stream. It must have rained last night. Fuck, what would have happened if he hadn’t have found you? You would have froze to death. The thought made his heart leap into his throat. He cussed softly as a guilt twisted his intestines, he shouldn’t have been that hard on you. 

Pity or not, you were right. Joel was helpless, he was incapable. Why the fuck else would he be all the way out here? Yeah, you had gone through his things but he was the one that left the photos face up in the drawer for you to find. He hadn’t even put them somewhere more intimate, like a nightstand, he had left proof of his past in the living room. You could’ve stumbled upon it looking for a pencil or a bookmark. Swallowing his feelings of betrayal, Joel steeled himself before turning back towards the forest, deciding that he would check the traps before heading back to his om - to you. 

-

Joel stopped at the door, sighing to himself as he debated on turning back towards the treeline. No, he decided, he had to face this. You were going to be here a long time and if he wanted it to be bearable, he would have to bury the hatchet. Brushing off the dirt from his pants, Joel sucked his teeth for a moment before making his way inside. 

Stumbling back, Joel gagged as the smell of the room slapped him in the face. Your soothing aroma smelled burnt and rotten, the stagnant air making him panic as his eyes scanned the room. Where the fuck were you? 

“Darling?,” he called out, nothing but silence answering him as his voice bounced off the walls. 

Fear shot through him as he tore through the cabin, checking every room before practically ripping the bedroom door off of its hinges. Joel stomped into the room, his breaths coming out faster now with you seemingly gone. Fuck, you must’ve have run off, oh my fucking god no, no, no, no. It’s too cold, you don’t have any food, what if you get hurt? He was bad, he made you leave him, he needed to find you, he needed - 

Joel’s ears pricked up, catching a small whine that pulled him from the panic attack he was about to have. Running over to the closet door, he flung it open, looking down and being met with the sight of you curled up on a pile of clothes you must have pulled from his hamper. You were faced away from him, hugging yourself as shaky breaths made their way up your throat. 

“Oh sweet girl,” Joel said mournfully, feeling like an asshole as he reached out to turn you towards him. 

Another whine, stronger this time, left your lips as you shoved weakly at his grasp. Joel let out a low growl and your protests stopped, resigning yourself as he pulled you from the closet and walked you over to the bed. Groaning as his knees popped and cursing himself for falling asleep the way he had earlier, Joel positioned himself against the headboard with you in his lap. 

You were completely limp, the only sign of life being the shiver you let out as Joel began to rub circles into your back. Guilt sliced through his chest as he tried to pull you from this state, moving his other hand to your hair to scritch at your scalp as he had last night. He knew that he had fucked up. Why had he left you like that? Only Joel would be stupid enough to let you cry it out on your own, stupid alpha, bad alpha, fuck, fuck, fuck -, your voice pulled him from his self hatred. 

“I’m sorry alpha,” you whispered into his skin, a fresh wave of cries wracking your body.

Joel sighed, swallowing his pride before pulling your face from his shoulder. He took your chin in his hands, forcing your reddened eyes to meet his. He saw guilt, the same that he felt now, reflected on your wet face and it made him want to scream. 

“S’okay darling, it - I mean…,” he stopped for a moment before continuing, “I just wasn’t expecting it sweet girl, I overreacted. I’m the one that should be sorry.”

Confusion flashed in your eyes as you studied him, shaking your head at his words as they left his mouth. 

“No, it IS my fault. You let me in, gave me food, a place to sleep, and I went through your things. I’m sorry I just thought -,” you froze, pulling your face from his hands and sitting back. 

Joel reached forward to grab your chin, making you look at him once more. It frustrated him that you always seemed to find a way to avoid his gaze. 

“What baby? What did you think?,” Joel blurted out, ignoring the way the nickname made you look at him. 

“When I was with my group I-I… I used to snoop through my stepdad’s things to try and figure out what he was up to, or sometimes I would go through the stuff they took for review in the chapel. I know it was wrong, but I… I don’t know, they wouldn’t tell me anything about… well literally anything, and after they started keeping me apart from everyone -,” you stopped as Joel cut in. 

“Review? What do you mean by that?,” Joel said, his face now serious. 

You shrunk under his gaze and Joel made himself relax. He tried to keep the possessiveness that tensed his muscles and made him want to bare his teeth at whoever had hurt you. You watched Joel’s hand moved up your shirt, thumb starting to rub circles on your bare skin. He waited for you to push him away but instead he felt as you melted into him again. 

Sighing, you looked back up at him before starting over, “When a book or anything else was sinful er… when Josiah thought it was at least, he would take it for review. If it was found guilty of heresy, then whatever it was would be burned. But I um… well I know it’s not right, but I used to steal it back if I could or sometimes I would sneak out with Jake or I would steal food from the meal hall and bring it to whoever was in the pit.”

An uneasy feeling prickled along Joel’s spine, his instincts alerting him of his omega in danger. His omega? Fuck it, there are more important things to worry about right now, he thought as he winced at your words. 

Joel had experience with these types of groups, the religious types were always a bit more insidious than the others he had encountered. Desperate people taken under the wing of a twisted mind, using religion to keep themselves powerful. A brief memory flashed through his mind of David and of what he had almost done to Ellie. He went cold. 

“What did they… Did they ever put you in the pit?,” Joel asked carefully as he moved his free hand up to cup the back of your neck, digging his fingers into your sensitive skin and practically forcing your body to remain calm. 

You blinked and looked up at him with faraway eyes before you said, “Once. Only once. It only lasted a couple of weeks, or maybe it was months I don’t know… And then they were all dead and I was free.”

Joel had so many questions that he wanted to ask but he refrained. He recognized that faraway look that you were giving him, he had used that mask for years but he didn’t like the way it looked on you. Wracking his brain, Joel tried to think of a way to bring you back to him. 

“What was the best thing you ever stole?,” he blurted out, cringing at the question. 

Joel was surprised as he was met with nothing but laughter from you. Your body shook in his grasp as you threw your head back and a snort forced its way out of your nose. Joel joined, his laughter mixing with yours and warming the room. Wiping your eyes, you caught your breath and looked at him affectionately. 

“I uh,” you laughed again before starting over, “I stole a bottle of whiskey that had been confiscated. Then I snuck out with Jake, his boyfriend, and a few other teenagers that they knew. We demolished the bottle and then went skinny dipping, which… I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if they found out, but it was fun. We got away with it… I mean we sorta did. I definitely didn’t escape the headache, but no siestas at the pit for anyone.” 

Joel laughed at your story, soothed as the happy memory seemed to pull you back from the depths of whatever hell you had made for yourself in your mind. He brushed a stray tear from your cheek, relieved that it was from laughter rather than sadness. 

“S’that right? Didn’t know I had a rebel living with me, thought you were a good girl,” he tsked, playfulness dancing in his eyes. 

You gasped slightly, batting your eyelashes up at him before playing with the collar of his coat as you said, “I’m a lot of things alpha.” 

Joel gritted his teeth as a moan threatened to expose him. His cock gave a hard twitch in his pants, your scent suddenly overwhelming him as you mindlessly shifted in his lap. The hand he had on your bare hip moved to the small of your back. He felt the softness of your skin before pushing you forward without even thinking. Joel didn’t even register your gasp, your scent wiping his mind of any thought as his hardening dick now rubbed against you. He moved his face towards your neck, fighting the urge to bite down as he gave you a feverish kiss on your gland. Joel’s tongue darted out to taste you, eyes rolling into the back of his head at the taste as he felt you grind yourself needily against him. 

It was the high pitched moan that pulled Joel from his indulgence. He stopped in his tracks and you whined, trying to keep his face in the crook of your neck as he moved back. He looked back up at you. You looked fucked out already with your eyes hazy and cheeks hot with lust. Your breathing was as erratic as his as you tried desperately to rub yourself against his aching cock. Groaning, Joel stopped your movements. 

“Darling I - we can’t. I know you think you want this, but you don’t. You probably ain’t ever been in close confines with an alpha before, and we… this can’t happen. You don’t want an old man like me and I ain’t about to take advantage,” Joel said through gritted teeth, fighting desperately to remain focused with your chest heaving in front of his face. 

The whine you let out almost broke him, it clawed at every ounce of self control that he had but he held strong. 

“You wouldn’t be taking advant-,” you cried, trying to weasel out of his ironclad grip on your hips so you could rub your sweet pussy all over him. 

He cut you off before you could break him. 

“I would be taking advantage. PLEASE baby, we can’t. It ain’t you, okay? Pretty girl like you, it could never be you. S’all me, ya hear?,” Joel said, practically begging you to relent before he snapped and fucked you into the mattress. 

You stopped your motions, looking up at him curiously. You sighed, looking a little disappointed and very riled up, but you finally relented. 

Joel was surprised as you swung your legs off of him and scooched off the bed. You moved towards the bathroom, leaving him on the bed with a prominent bulge pressing against his zipper and his mouth opening and closing like a fish. You turned, an innocent smile gracing your soft features as you looked back at him. 

“Okay well, let me know when you change your mind,” you said simply, turning into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you.

Joel sat there for a moment in silence, his dick painfully hard and leaking at this point as he tried to figure out whether or not that had actually just happened. He heard the sound of the shower being turned on and you easing the curtain back to step under the stream. A fantasy flashed through his mind of him barging into the bathroom, of him stepping into the shower and falling to his knees, of him burying his face into your tight cunt and devouring you, of him lifting you up and spearing you on his cock, of him drilling you into the shower wall until you screamed and tightened around him. Joel palmed his length, shaking his head as he looked at the bathroom door. 

“I am so fucked.” 

[sleepybabybees]

Time for more shenanigans because I enjoy doing these-

Honestly- expect everyone at this point-

---

Price: Are you a painting?

Nik: What-?

Price: Because I want to pin you to a wall.

Graves: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG HIM OR SOMETHING-

---

Price: Two years ago, I married my best friend.

Price: Graves is still mad about it, but me and Nik were drunk and thought it was funny.

---

Price: Are you ready to commit?

Nik: Like, a crime or a relationship?

---

Price: I wasn't hurt that badly. The doctor said all my bleeding was internal, that's where the blood's supposed to be!

Laswell: ...I'm gonna kill him-

Nik: katie- no-

---

Laswell: Caw caw, motherfuckers.

---

Laswell: Where the devil is Graves?

Nik: Well, it is raining outside... Maybe he melted?

Price: Shall I look outside for a pointy hat?

Laswell holding back a laugh: I hate that I found that funny- fuck you-

---

Price: Are you good?

Laswell: In what sense?

Price: Generally.

Laswell: Oh, definitely not.

---

Price: Fine! Judge all you want but...

Price, points at Nik: Married a lesbian.

Price, points at Graves: Left a man at the altar.

Price, points at Ghost: Fell in love with a Scottish soldier

Price, points at Laswell: Threw a girl’s wooden leg in a fire.

Price, points at Soap: Lives in a box!

---

Graves: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Nik: >:O language

Laswell: Yeah watch your fucking language

Ghost: Okay, who taught Laswell the fuck word?!

Price: 'The fuck word'.

Soap: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time

Laswell: Oh my god they censored it

Price: Say fuck, Soap.

Laswell: Do it, Soap. Say fuck.

---

Ghost: If I fall…

Price: I’ll be there to catch you.

Nik: *looks at Graves* What if I fall?

Graves: Then I’ll fall with you, never leaving your side.

Soap: *watches these two interactions*

Soap, to Laswell: And if I fall?

Laswell: I’ll be the one who pushed you.

---

Nik: So, did everyone learn their lesson?

Laswell: No.

Gaz: I did not.

Ghost: I may have actually forgotten one.

Soap: Also no.

Nik: Oh good, neither did I.

Price: *Exhausted sigh*

---

Alex: I never said I was gonna get back together with them. But I was thinking, they're in town, would it be the worst thing in the world if I gave them a call?

Alejandro: No. No, Alex, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It would be the fourth worst thing. Number one: a super volcano. Number two: an asteroid hits the Earth. Number three: All the Evel Knievel movies are lost. Number four: Alex calls Farah. Number five: Rudy gets eaten by a shark.

Rudy: I’m Rudy, and I approve the order of that list.

---

Rudy: Farah, I have a couple of words to say to you.

Alex: Please let those two words be “I’m sorry.”

Alejandro: I’m ready with the bleep button if not.

---

Rudy: Those darn tall old people.

Farah: Darn em' indeed.

Alex: Don't worry, they'll be gone soon enough.

Alejandro: *sharpening knife* Yes. Dead.

The Squad:

Alejandro: Hahaha.

Alejandro: ...Is this self-destructive behaviour?

---

Alejandro: That's ridiculous, Rudy doesn't have a crush on me.

Farah: Yes, he does.

Alex: Yes, he does.

Valeria: Yes, he does.

Rudy: Yes, I do.

---

Alex: Why do you act like we’re three year olds?

Rudy, exasperated: WHY?!?

Rudy points at Alejandro: YOU TRIED TO HYJACK A CAR!

Rudy points at Farah: YOU NEARLY JUMPED 20 FEET OFF A CARPARK!

Rudy points at Alex: AND YOU ATE MULTIPLE DRIED LEAVES AND ROCKS OFF THE GROUND!

Rudy: AND YOU ASK ME WHY????

---

Rudy: Hey Farah, wanna third wheel on my date with Alejandro tomorrow?

Farah: Sure.

Rudy: Alex! Wanna third wheel on my date with Alejandro tomorrow?

Rudy: Great! I've always wanted to go on a double date!

Farah &amp; Alex: ...

Alejandro: Rudy...

---

Alejandro: I love you.

Rudy: I love you too. I've waited so long to hear you say that.

*Alejandro and Rudy kiss passionately*

Alex, to Farah: You owe me 20 dollars.

---

Alex: *tapping fingers on table*

Rudy: *taps fingers back furiously*

Farah: …What’s going on?

Alejandro: Morse code. They’re talking.

Alex: -.-- ..- .-. / - …. . / -.-. ..- - . … -

Rudy: *slams hands on table* YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

---

Alejandro: Why are your tongues purple?

Alex: We had slushies. I had a blue one.

Farah: I had a red one.

Alejandro: oh.

Alejandro:

Alejandro: OH.

Rudy:

Rudy: You drank eachothers slushies?

---

Soap: Why is Gaz crying on the floor?

Ghost: he's drunk.

Soap: And?

Ghost: he saw a picture of Roach's husband.

Soap: But he's Roach's husband?

Ghost: I know.

---

Ghost, referring to Roach and Gaz: Those guys are dorks.

Soap: Yes, but they’re our dorks.

---

Soap: Who would you swipe right for? Gaz or Ghost?

Roach : I would delete the app.

---

Soap: My life is a little too much panic and not enough disco.

Gaz: My life is a little too much fall and not enough boy.

Ghost: My life is a little too much chemical and not enough romance.

Roach : My life is a little too much imagination and not nearly enough dragons.

---

Roach : How is the most beautiful person in the world?

Gaz: *blushing* I—

Ghost, butting into the conversation: Soap is perfect, thanks for asking.

---

Eskell: You really believe in Shepard?

Oryn: Mmm… Luckily, he believes in himself enough for the both of us.

---

Shephard: Is this your plan B?

Eskell: Technically, this is plan P.

Shephard: Plan P? Is there a plan M?

Eskell: Yes, but I marry Oryn in plan M.

Oryn: I like plan M.

---

Shephard: *Reading a letter*

Oryn: Well, what does it say?

Shephard: It’s a confession letter. It turns out Eskell killed my pet rock.

---

Oryn, about Eskell: Can I tell them they look nice?

Shephard: Sure.

Oryn: Can I tell them I respect them?

Shephard: Maybe, if they ask.

Oryn: Should I show them an oil painting I made of us surrounded by our three cats and four dogs?

Shephard: …

Shephard: I’d save that for later.

---

Eskell: *pitches an idea*

Shephard, impressed: Huh, there might be something here!

Oryn, under their breath and dialling laswell: Yeah, a lawsuit.

---

Horangi : That sounds super! Doesn’t that sound super, Konig?

Konig: No.

Horangi : I think I speak for Konig when I say it sounds really super.

---

Konig: Hey, random question, what are your favorite flowers?

Horangi : Peonies, why?

Konig:

Horangi : Were you going to get me flowers?

Konig:

Horangi :

Konig: ᶦᵗ’ˢ ᵃ ᵖᵒˢˢᶦᵇᶦˡᶦᵗʸ

---

Horangi : I want a bf.

Konig: Do you mean best friend, boyfriend or bread feast? Because you’re being really vague here.

---

Konig: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Horangi : Okay.

Konig: And make out during the scary parts.

Horangi : Th-

Horangi : The scary parts.

Horangi : Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

---

Horangi , taping a knife onto a Roomba: Be free, my child.

Konig, entering the room with a small cut on their ankle: Who the f-

[wlwanakin]

god you're so right about how messed up the obi-wan/anakin/ahsoka dynamic is. it's like: your dad had you way too young, never forgot it and never let you forget it, and the moment you've achieved some independence he has another kid.

and like. you know that this kid is going to have to be your baby, because your father is not qualified to raise her, so it falls to 19-20 yr old you to keep this child alive. anakin is the true teen mom of star wars, tbh

RIGHT!!!! RIGHT!!!! like it’s that. it’s not that but emotionally it is that!!!! and it’s sooo fucked in ways that feel under-acknowledged cuz the show itself is like “but it’s fine! look how well these three get on” but also i don’t care what the show says (except when it’s good in which case i do care. i care So Much). i’m gonna talk about how it’s fucked!! and like, in general it’s the kind of a recipe for extreme tension and resentment and anakin not letting ahsoka be subject to any of that is maybe one of the acts that got him into force heaven two decades later, because anakin grew up being silently resented by obi-wan a bit (in some ways A Lot) and like you can talk about the cycles of it all but that is a very important aspect of it that anakin ensured he did Not continue! but like goddd you cannot tell me there was no resentment towards obi-wan about it all that nagged at him, especially since obi-wan likes ahsoka so much, and frankly obi-wan and anakin are a classic case of parent and child who simply would not like each other if they met as unrelated individuals, and boy oh boy is that a miserable thing to be. and i think it’s unrealistic that all this weirdness just evaded ahsoka too so i’m sure she has her own complexes. being an unwanted child whose custody got passed off bc your religious order decided to use you as a character-building tool (did she ever find out about this. if she ever found out about this it’d be crazy. i like to think she did) is never smooth sailing even your not-teen brother-mom loves you so so much and actually expresses it (UNLIKE SOMEONE ELSE I KNOW).

and anakin really IS the teen mom lol, and i find that funny both bc he’s much closer to an Actual teen mom age wise while obi-wan (designated teen mom by fandom including me bc he acts like one) was fucking 25, and bc anakin was the MORE SUCCESSFUL ONE. like not only was he given a padawan when he was 5-6 years younger than obi-wan was on the frontlines of a WAR he also got over the whole not wanting her thing like super duper fast and despite being the most insane woman alive he actually did a pretty good job and ahsoka ended up being really well-adjusted forever (which is in part stupid bad writing but also i do think anakin gave her the best child soldier experience one could be given…also fucked to think about if you wanna chew on that). like i increasingly don’t care for tcw as the years go on but ahsoka and anakin’s dynamic will be close to my heart forever and ever and that is partially bc the circumstances are so deeply fucked

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

The Interview

A/N: For @lacilou . I hope I got it right. Merry Christmas!

"Christ, I can't believe I'm doin this shit. Lucky I don't burn Vought to the fuckin ground for this.."

Don't give a damn if the wretch behind the door can hear my discontent as I recheck the address from a slip of paper in my hand. Probably got some young spit fuck with their head up their ass to do this shit. I can't believe these assholes have me out here in the burbs even botherin with this crap. Since when do they do private residential interviews with the fuckin talent?

Grunting confirmation from the piece of paper, I crumble it and toss it to the immaculate lawn behind me. Rolling my shoulders, head tip to the sky as I take a deep breath before giving the front door 2 hard knocks; only a few seconds go by before I hear hurried footsteps comin from upstairs on the other side.

Looking over my shoulder to make sure my driver from Vought is still parked by the curb cause no way was I going to let this shit last more than 10 minutes. Saw the perfect bar servin half off whiskey for happy hour and I ain't about to miss it for some fuckin interrogation.

I turned to face the door as it opens but God damn if seeing you for the first time doesn't completely incinerate my foul mood. The sun bounces off your y/h/c hair and y/e/c eyes, lighting them up as you smile up at me with the cutest pink cheeks. You look so fuckin vibrant, your excitement palpable. Busty chest teases me into a quiet submission, risin and jigglin a bit quicker than normal from your jog down the stairs.

Fuck, I thought I'd be dealin with a 20-somethin year old idiot wasting my time talkin about my glory days, not a fuckin goddess just ripe for the pickin. I hope to God you don't notice me gaze from your tits to your shapely hips. I doubt you do not since I'm leerin so fuckin intently; almost miss the sweet ring of your voice speaking to me as you repeat yourself.

"Soldier boy? Hi! So nice to meet you. I'm y/n."

Holding your hand out to me, fingers painted the most alluring blood red, I mentally note how they match your pretty toes in your stark white plushy house shoes as you take a step back and politely gesture me to come in.

"Thank you."

I cough to clear my throat as I enter, suddenly feeling a few seconds of anxiousness at the beautiful vixen leading me to the living room. Can't remember the last time I've felt this way just from meeting a woman for the first time.

Your home is bright and pretty, like you. The smell of you is heavy in the air, so absolutely intoxicating as I admire the inside of your abode. The drapes and windows open wide letting the fresh air waft in and I wanna put a end to that immediately; wanna get cozy in your natural feminine scent.

You're talking, showering me in praise of my latest mission and how honored you are to meet your fave hero as I stare at your ass. So hard to not get lost in the sway your full figure.

I'm sure you thought there wasn't a thing sensual about the white button up, first two buttons undone giving me the smallest peek at the top of your ample chest; and sleeves rolled up to the elbows and paired with black leggings that accentuate your perfect frame. But that was your first mistake. Your second was letting me in.

"We alone, sweetheart?" I interrupt, sitting in the seat you offer.

Clearly confused, you nod slowly. It's obvious my question throws you off and makes you think. It's silent as you awkwardly turn to the tripod pointed at us. I can hear your little heart start to beat faster and I'm actually kinda proud. Good girl, at least you know your completely helpless and at the big bad wolf's mercy. The thought makes me smirk as I watch your fingers shakily turn on the camera.

"Before we start can I get you anything? Something to drink? Think I have some bourbon in the kitchen. If not, there's definitely whisky- or water if you prefer?"

Much as I want that drink, I'm absolutely bewitched by you and don't want you outta my sight for even a second. So for the first time in my life I decline a drink.

"No thank you."

"Um.. So.. did you get the list of questions? I sent them over to Vought a few days ago. I didn't want to be intrusive or do anything to catch you off guard."

"I did."

More silence.

"Okay.. Did you get a chance to read em?"

"I did not."

It's hard not to smile at the way you nip your lips nervously, fingers wringing together as you sit in front of me. I should feel bad how I'm flustering you but I can't help it. Love the way your cheeks tint as you look anywhere but at my face.

"Eyes on me, pretty"

I want to devour you from how quick you comply. So shy but a good listener. Also noted.

"Can't interview me if you won't look at me, can you?"

You shake your head, silky hair moving to your shoulders.

"Words."

"No, sir."

"Good girl. Continue."

Gotta cross my legs and put my hands in my lap to hide the way my cock starts to chub up at your good manners. Christ, you're exactly how I like em. Can't stand the little young things from the new generation: all mouth or ready and willing to hop on whatever dick gets them clout. Love a nice mature woman; pretty but reserved and lets me do the talking.

"Just start, honey. Believe me when I say ain't nothin you can say or do to make me uncomfortable."

I tilt my head, noticin your thighs clench together a few times and take a deep breath through my nose. Oh. Fucking. Hell. You're getting wet, I can smell it. Scent so light you musta only just started to wet up between those enticing thighs. Perfect girl must like the way I tell her what to do. Or maybe its the praise? Either way I definitely plan on finding out.

"O-okay. Um, let's start with your return? How exactly-"

"Off-limits." That much Vought made clear.

"How about why you left? You were the world's hero and then-"

"Uh uhn." I shake my head.

You pause for just a second, crossing your arms before asking your next question.

"Well what about the seven?"

I raise my brow, waiting for you to continue.

"Will you be joining Homelander in the seven? If so, will that be as a teammate or replacement?"

Cheeky lil thing..

"There is no replacing Homelander; He's the hero of yesterday, today, and tomorrow." I repeat the scripted answer for what must be the millionth time since I've returned.

"Nice. Very nice response."

"Thanks."

"Who wrote it?"

Your hands pop over your mouth, eyes wide as you realize who the fuck you're talking to.

"I'm sorry. I- I shouldn't have, Soldier Boy, sir. Forgive me."

I smile at your own corrective action. I wonder if you're usually this polite or if you're just a good girl when you're frightened. I need to find out with my head between your legs. Fuck, I'm so hard thinkin bout you, pray to God you dont notice and try kick me out. Not sure I could just leave without sampling you, fuckin temptress.

"Notta problem, darlin. Don't got to be so tense with me, won't hurt you. And call me Ben. No need for that Soldier Boy shit. Though I do like when you call me sir. Can try Daddy next if you'd like." I tell you with a confident smirk.

That's gets me a fresh whiff of the juices spilling outta that hidden little patch of heaven. I breathe it in deeply, internally groaning at how my cock wont stop jerking against my palm at your aroma; not sure how much longer I can keep my hands off you.

It's so cute how you sputter in embarrasment, even with your knees clutchin together over and over. I know your doin it for some pressure on that throbby lil clit. Wonder how you'd react if I told you I could smell how fuckin wet you are for me.

"No, No sir, I.. I couldn't- wouldn't-"

"Jokin sweetheart. Please, go on."

Frazzled but ever the professional, you continue after a quick deep breath.

"Is it possible for you to tell me where you were during your hiatus?"

I only smile politely at you.

"How about we try something lighter: what was the first thing you did when you got back? Did you go see Crimson Countess?"

"I did."

"And how was that? She must've missed you dearly."

"Actually, it wasn't the romantic reunion you might've thought it would be."

"Why's that? All those years apart, I could think of a thing or 2 I'd wanna do." You say with the loveliest smile I've ever seen.

Hell, if you were my woman no way I'd let you outta bed since my grand return. Have that pussy singing for me day and night.

"Her and I had long fizzled out, 's nothin there. But had it been someone as pretty as you darlin, I'm sure I couldn't help but indulge."

Fuck, that lil blush against your smooth creamy cheeks is so sexy. Need to see it spread allover your body as I fuck you to tears.

"Have you.. Indulged often? Since becoming the infamous Soldier Boy?"

I think about your question for just a moment. Funny how quick this little interview turned into an inquiry about my dirty deeds.

"Haven't had anyone like you, that's for sure."

"Not what I asked."

"Yeah but your not asking what you really wanna know, are ya y/n? Dont be shy, pretty, shoot."

I say the last sentence just to get another dose of the fragrance between your legs and I'm not disappointed. Know without a doubt you're fuckin soakin wet by now. Your lil fists are balled in your lap, arousal seeping off you in waves as you sit stiff as hell in your seat. I'm bout to do somethin bout the way you eyein me down like you wanna test drive.

"So you haven't. You know.. Since you've been back?"

I laugh, dick twitchin at your question. Can't even say the words, just like you cant get that lil pussy to stop drippin for me.

"Have I fucked anyone since I've been back?" I chuckle.

You nod.

"No. Come to think of it, it's been longer than I'd like to admit since I've enjoyed a nice tight hole."

Guess my answer gets your mind reelin, pretty eyes leavin a searing trail over every inch of my athletic build as you ogle me openly. Fuck it. I remove my hands, legs spread as I give you a view of my dick stickin up in my pants.

My cock is so fuckin hard, bulging so big and lewd in my snug ass suit. I love the lil gasp you emit as I flex, makin it twitch for you. Mmmm, pretty lil sound got my dick startin to leak; a nice wet spot formin before your eyes.

"Wow.. It's so- you're.. Wow.."

Poor needy baby probably doesn't even realize how hungry you look, tongue peekin out to moist your bottom lip as you lean forward in your chair for a closer look. Shit, I can give you a hand with that.

Standin up and separatin the distance between us in seconds, I bend down and lean in to nose up your slender neck and whisper at your ear.

"As fun as this has been, your lil interrogation bout where my dicks been last.. I'd rather show you where the fuck I'm tryna put it now. You gone let me teach you sumn, darlin?"

Wish I could swallow your smalI gasps as I grip and massage at the warm flesh of your thighs. Fuck, how you tilt your head to give me access, shutting those pretty eyes is drivin me insane. The little catches in your breath are the only sound in the room as I wait for you to respond. Your mind seems muddled, already sensitive from the smallest touch and I'm gonna have so much fun with that.

"Sweetheart?" I skim back down to leave wet kisses at your slender neck as I slide my hands up your thighs just inches from your lil pussy, still rubbing slowly. "That what you want? Gotta use your words if you want me, y/n."

"Yes!" It's so needy, so desperate the way you say it, grippin my uniform tight in each fist. "Need you so much Ben- sir, 'm sorry. Want you to touch me so bad!"

Desperate words gonna make me cum before I even whip it out. Your so whiny as you turn your head to connect our lips. I swallow each whine as you melt into our kiss. It's so fuckin wet, so messy as you moan into my mouth like I'm already fuckin you. Most definitely the straw that broke the camels back.

I tuck my fingers into the waistband of your leggings and pull them down. Your groan of discontent as you chase my lips when I pull back to take em off completely is so cute. I love how you've become nothin more than my personal lil needy brat.

"Stop that. Sit back. Or your not gonna get this."I threaten as I step back, unzipping my suits pants, pullin out my fat hard cock and givin it a few squeezes.

Definitely gonna get this reward how you do exactly what I say, beautiful legs parting as you grip your tits through your shirt. Got me squeezin the base of my dick so I don't buss at the simple fact you ain't had no fuckin panties on underneath your bottoms.

"Take that shit off." I nod to your button up.

You do it, not bothering to unbutton a single button; opting to just slip it over your head instead. Damn I aint never seen titties I wanted to suck on more, dark pink peaks stiff as fuck from your groping.

Gotta close my eyes and hold my breath for a few seconds to gain my composure. Every ripple and dimple makes me wanna leave bites all over your smooth milky skin. Fuck, why you gotta be so damn perfect?

"Gone be an angel for me and do exactly as I say?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. Spread them lips. Show me inside."

I'm wonderin what happened to my shy woman as you show me the pink of you. Pussy lookin so fat and wet, so inviting. Them ivory lips, dusted with just the smallest amount of hair, quiver as I stare at your insides flutterin; callin out jus for me.

"That's it, go head and play in it mama. Get that shit wet fa me."

Peep how your beath comes a bit faster through your slightly parted lips as you slowly swipe at your swollen clit and stare at my rigid dick. Your eyes close as you press harder, a small hiss slippin out.

"Uh uhn. Eyes on me. If I gotta say it again, ima paint the lips of that perfect pussy and leave you wantin. Hear me?"

"Yes, yes sir. 'M so sorry. So so sorry. I'll be good for you."

I should feel some type of way from how you look straight at my cock instead of my eyes as you plead with me. Shit, guess its fine; can't stop taking in your gorgeous frame either, especially with you slidin your other hand down to fuck a dainty finger into yourself. Don't even realize I've started to stroke my dick while I watch you moan loudly as you put on show.

"Fuck honey, thats it, touch that pretty lil pussy for me."

Your back arches, small pudge of your tummy jiggling as you stick your chest out. Already trembling with the sensations swirling in your distressed body. You moan out to me lustfully and add a second finger. Seems like a bit of a stretch as you wiggle your nose in discomfort.

"Pleeease Ben, touch me! Need to feel your hands on me, in me. Please!"

Ain't gotta ask me twice. I slide both hands up your thighs to reach under you and grab at the soft plush of your ass and massage roughly. Sucking your right nipple between my lips, I lather it generously before givin a slight tug.

"Haaaaah, uhnuhn- Oh my god!"

You don't need the hard suction I wanna give you, seems like just my lips around your pert nip has you shiverin underneath me. I pull off your breast with a soft 'pop' before switching to the other.

"Christ,I'msoclose! Please! Please, don't stop. Pleeeease!"

"Fuck, sure darlin? Ain't even get a chance to show ya pussy some love. You gushin for me already?"

I let go of my dick to replace your digits with one of mine. Testing the waters, I slowly slide it in and out as we simultaneously look down to watch. It's too hot inside, like the fuckin heat from the sun. That warmth on my cock is gone drive me crazy I know it.

"You fuckin chokin my finger y/n. How you gone take my dick?"

My middle finger prods at your opening before I add it to the mix, poking and scissoring at you a bit faster. Your hands leave your center to grip at the arms of the chair, nails diggin into the soft fabric. A light perspiration begins to coat your sexy frame as you bask in your pleasure.

"OhfuckBen, wait! Gimme a- aahhhhgod!"

I'm rubbing at your throbbing clit with my other hand making you toss her head back, hair spilling over the back of the chair. Your unintentionally humpin at my hands, lids low as you fight to do as I say and keep your eyes open. Such a good fucking girl, so I tell you that you are as I do my very best to unravel you from the inside out.

"Fuck you're doin so well for me. Gotta stretch this pretty puss to take my cock, honey. Still want it? Need me to fuck you good sweetheart?

"Yes! Yes, sir, pleeease! Need you so much, ohgod! Soooo good, cummin Ben. 'M cummin for youuuu!"

Can't really believe you manage to stare up at me with your eyes open wide as you convulse in you chair and cum for me harder than any woman ever has. My hands wet to the wrist, white cream oozing down my fingers as I rub your lil button and fuck into your spasmin cunt quicker than before.

"Goood fuckin girl, that's it! Bet you needed this huh, darlin? Gimme that shit, yeeeah. I want all of it."

Sounds of my sloppy finger fuck are loud as another dose spills down to your clenched ass cheeks. Get a pang of pride from how your head lolls to the side, y/h/c brows pinched as you pant.

I don't stop till your thighs snap shut, trying to escape my fingers as you press back into your cushioned chair.

I pull away, tasting you with a groan before using your juices to wet up my cock as I fuck my fist with a few rough strokes. Shit its not enough; ima have eat that lil pussy later. For now, I need to be inside you.

Immediately undressing, I notice my poor dazed angel breathing heavily thorough your cute lil nose. Your eyes finally close, knees pulled together as you tiredly run your fingers through your y/h/t hair. The small hint of a smile on your lips pump my ego; glad to know it was good for you.

Takin a few steps back towards your dark grey sectional, I sit on the carpet in front of it; back leaning against it with my legs spread. Takes alotta fuckin willpower to not stroke my dick till I buss to the sight of your nude frame.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

You give me a short nod, eyes still shut.

"C'mere then."

Ever the perfect girl, you open your eyes, briefly lookin at my cock before makin your way over to me. I pull you down to sit in front of me on carpet between my spread legs. Leaning in and peckin your cheek twice, hands grabbin a handful of your soft tits.

"Still want this? Cause once I get in, I ain't fuckin stoppin till I cream yo shit up. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." It comes out so meek as you give me a shy smile.

Aight, it's a wrap. I grab you by the throat and push you back, signaling for you to lean back on your palms between my open legs. Swiping my the head of my dick through your slit once before impatiently snappin my hips forward, piercing you on my leaky, sensitive tip.

"OHFUCKBEN!

Your wails echo off the ceiling of your living room and for the first time I'm worried someone might hear through the open window. I don't give a fuck about consequences, aint shit a soul on this earth can do to me. Except interrupt this perfect moment of me tryna get my dick into you. Your red manicured fingers dig into the carpet as you try raise up.

"Come on, y/n, c'mere. Quit tryna hop off my shit."

Letting go of your neck, I slide my forearms underneath your knees to grip you around to hold your waist firmly. I pull you closer to me, forcing you to slide a bit further on my dick. Your no match for my strength and I make sure you know that.

"Jesus, woman, you so fuckin tight. Thought you said you wanted this? Open this shit up for me then or ima make you." I growl out, using your waist to push you back before pull you back down repeatedly.

"Fuuuck- icant! 'Stoobig, too big Ben!"

Sweetheart not lying; I ain't never been small and the V only enhanced my shit. Poor baby gone have to get that pussy to swallow 8 inches at the least. (Ain't neva measure it, might be fun to do it with you after I see how much of it you can take.) Too bad I can't muster to feel an ounce of pity as I bully my distressed cock into your helpless cunt. You should count ya blessings that I'm fuckin you like this and not makin you sit on my dick till I bottom out and ride me till breed you.

"Don't give a fuck. Told you I wasn't stoppin till I was done. Take this dick y/n."

Your head snaps back, neck rolling limply at the intense pressure. Guess I'll give you a pass for shuttin those gorgeous eyes. Your sob of despair would reach the heart of any sane man; good thing I ain't one of em. You really should make sure you know someone before you let them rearrange your guts sweetheart. And after getting a taste of this pussy, I really don't wanna let another soul of the opposite sex near you.

"Ooooh fuck y/n, so glad you lemme in honey. This the best pussy I ever had in my life, angel. Mmmmfuck. Wish it was the only one. No one compares- aaaaah shit, just like that. You got it mama, wet my shit up."

Thrusting upwards while pullin you on my prick got me goin ballistic, impalin you half way as I watch your tits bounce widly in front of my face. It's feels so damn incredible, I mindlessly suck marks wherever I can reach on your breasts. Gotta make sure my small nips and sucks leave hickies that stain almost every inch of the fair skin of your tits.

"P-pleeease Ben. Mmmmfuck.. Least slow down- ahhhhh! Haven't done this in so loooong."

That gets me to pause the beginning of the savage fuck I'm tryin to get into, my head poppin up out your cleavage. A line of spit connects from my lips to your breasts.

"How long?"

"S-since.. Since my divorce." You're voice is so quiet as you stutter out your answer.

"How. LONG?"

2 deep thrust that have you squealin and me almost in to the fuckin hilt. I'm drownin in yo shit, woulda probably bottomed out if your walls would stop clutchin my cock so goddamn frantically.

"2 years, Ben! Its b-been 2 years."

Huffin, blinkin back tears and leanin forward into my solid chest; you're pressin our bodies together as you hold at me tightly. It makes my pace slow as you change the angle, grasping at me like a child does their blanket. Should fuckin feel bad at the sobs wrackin you, the sporadic spasms that have you buckin your fragile body into mine but I fuckin don't.

Can't is more like it cause my mind is reeling at your revelation. Then that meant you were a single. Would've never dreamed I'd have chance like this with an exquisite woman as yourself. The reality of this being more, without me havin to kill some poor sap, that you could be mine forever has an intense buzz building in my balls.

"You belong to me now, woman. Got that?" I demand at your ear lowly.

You nod, pussy still grappling my dick as your thick cream drips out between your glistening puss down my shaft to pool at my sack. It doesn't help you already look absolutely destroyed and I'm not even in all the way yet. Fuck, another few deep breaths as I try not to end this heavenly encounter too early.

"Christ, I don't deserve you sweetheart. I know you can't know how I know that but trust me. You're too good for me."

I try to pull my hips back but your still clinging to me so fuckin tight as you breathe heavily. Shit, no woman I've ever fucked has had me so ready to nut just from watchin her take my dick.

"Let me go, y/n." I demand through clenched teeth.

Gotta admit I'm absolutely appalled at the quick shake of your head as you swiftly decline. You've been such a good girl till now. Still.. Just gimme a reason, right?

I reach back around my neck to unclasp your arms, leaning forward slowly to lay you softly against the rug as I trap you wrist in each hand beside your head. Your beautiful thighs cage my hips, still preventin me from tearin my pussy up. I lean down near your ear to growl at you, frustrated at your lil show of defiance. My nut is right on the surface and if you make buss before I get my fill, you fa sho gone pay the price.

"Woman, if I have to tell you let me go again your gonna be soooooo fuckin sorry."

After a pause your legs slowly unhook to slide down my sides and crook at your knees, cute lil feet on the carpet as you look at me with with wide teary eyes. I'm glad my threat landed; either way I'm in this tummy but it's in your best interest not to fight me.

"Should make ya bad ass get on all 4s and take this dick, see how deep I get then. Lucky I wanna see that pretty face as I nut deep in that creamy pussy, sweetheart." I snarl at you, snatching to hold your wrist in one hand.

I grip your knee with the other, pressing to open you wider to me. The first slide in and out is a heaven beyond description. The sloppy squelch of your gushy cunt as I stab into your warmth is music to my ears; I wanna hear more of it so I speed up, smiling lovingly at the way your eyes cross and slam shut.

"Oh yeah, Right here? This the spot? Want me to fuck you right here sweetheart?"

I chuckle as you actually have the nerve to shake your head at me again. Your gaspin and I'm an absolute dick for leanin down to lick into your mouth, suckin on your tongue as you gulp for air. Plump tits pressed against my chest as your keens reach an interestingly high pitch.

"Pleee- ahhhh! Uhuhuhuhnn-cantcantcant. pleaaase!"

"And yet.. You will, honey."

I release your hands, droppin my weight onto you to keep you in place as I moan my pleasure into the air. This pussy's phenomal, got my heavy balls already drawin up taut as I pull out and fuck into you with a sharp, deep jabs.

"Beeeeeeen, ahhhhh fu- BenBenBen, please!"

"Shhhhh, sweetheart shhhh. Take it like a big girl. Shit- so good.. Mmmm.. You not gettin away till I- fuck!"

And goddamn it, if my hard work isn't rewarded! I finally bottom out; my pelvis smackin into yours roughly over and over. Might be usin a lil super strength but, fuck, I ain't tryin to. I just can't help the way I grind deep into you, dick jerkin at the feeling of you scratching down my back.

"'M fuckin you sooooo good, huh honey?"

"Yesyesyesyes!" I don't think you're even aware of your brainless chant.

Tears run down your flushed cheeks and of course my sadistic ass licks em up as I groan out at how good you feel.

"Shit woman, got me bout to lose my mind in this tight lil pussy. How you expect me to keep it together when she keep stranglin my dick like this?"

As much as you try to run, try to fight me, your lil puss sucks at me. She tells me the truth, coaxes me to drill into you ferally as I make sure to drag my pelvis against your lil button on ever thrust in.

"Fuuuck, y/n, ahhhh shi- uhn uhn uhn. 'Mazin, mmmm, so 'mazin." I groan in a slur.

Its a done deal when you shake wildly underneath me, breast pressin into my chest as you spray my dick before I can get my hand down there and properly rub your clit.

"Good fuckin girl, y/nnnn. Let gooooo, just like that. Stop fightin it pretty, mmmm shit. Shhhhh, you need this honey."

Your wordless thunderous shrieks, your pretty teary face, the clutch of your cunt.. I groan in utter relief as the feelin of your orgasm forces me into mine. My first shot of cum finally splatters the inside of your used lil pussy like a shotgun bein fired. Has me weak as I lay over you and unload. Not sure how I lasted longer than a couple seconds with you tryna milk my nut while beggin and cryin under me.

"Take it woman, yeeeees, this nut all for you pretty. Haaaaah, oh oh oh oh! Christ y/n, soooo gooood for me."

3 more thick splashes before I pull out and let the last jet rain allover your flushed swollen cunt. Smilin as I rub the thick drool of cum spillin from the tip of my cock on your sensitive clit. Fuckin soak in the way you jerk and whine while you try to close your legs, your palms weakly pushin at my muscled shoulders.

I oblige, leanin up on my knees, lookin down at your wrecked frame as you try to slip from underneath me. Smackin both palms down the side of your thighs, lovin the red print that marks your sweaty skin. I don't give you a chance to catch your breath as I command more of you.

"Quit that shit. Turn around, get on ya hands and knees." I tell you, lookin up to make sure your cams still on.

My dicks still solid, jerkin between your poor abused walls and I might want a replay when this is done. Interview ain't over just yet, pretty.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #42 – The Golden Enclaves by Naomi Novik

This is the rare book that I read less than six months after finishing the previous entry in the series, and only the second definite conclusion to a series. It was incredibly readable and never a slog, and the big final climactic set-piece absolutely worked for me, but on the whole I probably enjoyed it rather less than The Last Graduate?

The book picks up the precise moment Graduate lets off, with El getting shoved out of the Scholomance moments before it goes spinning off into the void by Orion – her storybook monster-hunting hero/traumatized child soldier boyfriend. Who she instantly tries to move heaven and earth to drag him out, and then spends a week near catatonic with exhaustion and grief. In the end, the plot comes in the form of Liesel, the valedictorian of her year at the Scholomance, arriving and all but dragging her off to save the London Enclave from imminent collapse and consumption by a rampant Mawmouth, one of the horrifying, deathless monsters that she is one of exactly two people alive to ever kill. From there she’s dragged into the mystery of an unknown malificer destabilizing and destroying enclaves, the brewing war between New York and Shanghai, and convincing Orion’s family to help try and rescue him before the Scholomance vanishes entirely into the void.

Despite being about ostensible adults who have graduated and are properly finding their places in the world, this still very much read like YA to me – moreso, really, without the conceit of the killer magic highschool overshadowing everything else. Or, okay, have gotten disagreement when describing the series as YA before, so to be more specific – El’s romantic and familial drama are quite literally the most important things in the world, as she and her highschool boyfriend are the most important and powerful entities in all creation. With the exception of El’s mom being a saint and providing healing and support, I’m pretty sure literally every consequential act that occurs on-screen is done either by or to someone under 20. El melts down, fucks off for a week, and never answers her phone in a way that is very relatable for an overwhelmed 18-year-old but potentially world-war-starting for a walking WMD. And so on. Without the deliberately artificial setting of the Scholomance, the wires of genre convention just show through more obviously, you know? (Also, my first introduction to Novik was Spinning Silver and I’m still waiting to read anything else of hers that comes near it on the level of prose and style).

None of which is a complaint – the fact that your boyfriend’s mom is literally the worst person in the world just comes with the territory. What is a complaint is how the book treats its supporting cast. This is El and Orion’s story, and I’m pretty sure they are literally the only people in it who get – not even an arc, but just any sense of development or change over time whatsoever. They feel like characters, everyone else feels like cardboard cutouts, or NPCs in a video game. Which is a fair choice to make when space is at a premium, but my copy of this came out to over 400 pages. Even the other characters with enough personality and screentime to make any sort of impression can honestly be counted on one hand.

In consequence, this is an incredibly plot-driven novel. The pacing is both frenetic and frantic, with what feels like basically the entire thing spent either in or rushing to one crisis or big dramatic set-piece after another – a surprising amount of it is spent in airports, honestly. The epilogue mentions that they ‘crammed a decade worth of crises into a fortnight’ or something along those liens and, yeah! The contrast between this and the previous two books spreading their crises across whole school years is inescapable.

That said, that frantic, 400-page-sprint plot did work. Or, at least, the big emotional setpieces and dramatic confrontations that are clearly the heart of the whole thing absolutely hit me like they were supposed to. The finale especially.

There is a certain sort of cliche in old arguments about superhero stories, where one side says that superman is boring because he’s more powerful than the rest of the world put together and impossible to threaten, and the other says that he’s interesting for precisely the same reason. This isn’t actually true of most superman stories as far as I can tell, but it still seems an apt comparison for this book. There is absolutely no point in the entire story where ‘Can El kill this?’ is a question that is in any doubt. The horrifying monsters that the thought of fighting again in Book 2 sent her into panic attacks? She can kill them with a sentence an a wave of her hands. There is simply not a moment in the book where her efforts fail due to a lack of force – so the entire story becomes an exercise in supplying dramatic tension and a compelling action-adventure wizard-battle narrative despite this handicap. And it (mostly) works!

The series has never been big on villains – in both the previous books, the central problem being struggled against was always environmental or systemic or a matter of coordination and planning. This book redoubles the commitment, to the point of dangling the red herring of the sinister dark wizard running around destroying enclaves before eventually revealing that the real villain is, well, the collateral damage of trying to fix (metaphorical) climate change and structural inequality without a full understanding of the problem. Never a really convincing red herring, but I still enjoyed the reveal.

Part of the whole YA feel is just the themes being very close to the surface of things and legible to casual reading. What with the enclaves of comfort and luxury that every wizard is fighting for entrance to literally being built on a foundation of eternal and deathless suffering, or the number of monsters in the world being the proliferation of enclaves as China and India began catching up with the Euro-Americans leading to an arms/development race that leaves anyone not part of it just more and more fucked over, and all. Not a bad thing – honestly it’s a compliment to say that the book managed to have such clear themes with such obvious applicability to the real world without ever feeling like it had turned into a lecture. Many similar works fail the test.

It is I think kind of funny how you can use the prominence of queerness in this series to track how the culture of mainstream publishing has changed between releases. From not really mentioned at all in Deadly Education to El sleeping with a woman on-page in this. (I actually can’t remember if she ever, like, realized she was bi or it just got retroactively established as something she was already comfortable with?)

Speaking of themes – this is mostly just on me personally, but the whole resolution with El’s great-grandmother left an intense bad taste in my mouth. I’m sure it was just necessary to make the whole very cute resolution of her whole doom-laden prophecy work, but ‘yes the family matriarch basically threw my mom in the gutter with newborn me in her arms, but it was with the best of intentions! She felt really bad about it, and she was right that it was the only way things would work out well in the end!’ is a trope that just viscerally repels me. Or at least it does when El reconciling and reconnecting with the extended family that abandoned her is clearly portrayed as part of the big happy ending. I’d probably react less harshly if this was a different genre, honestly? But as it is, yeah, in the same way that being so consistent about making The System the only real villain makes the fact that there’s apparently some sort of system of instant karma and doing good things/being a good person actually does make the universe like and do good things for you ring a bit hollow.

Anyway yes, there’s definitely more to talk about – Orion as a character is a whole essay in himself, and so is his mom, but that’s enough for now. It was a very fun, addictively readable book that hit the Big Moments very well, but everything outside of them and the two main characters felt kind of threadbare and perfunctory. Still, not a book I regret reading.

[jaeclerc]

just 3.1K of my maxiel demon au for the lovely @powerful-owl ! happy birthday <3 i knew i needed to gift you a little something because you are literally one of the reasons I started to publish any of my f1 works!

cw: mentions of death, blasphemy, and tail fucking

“Maximus,” Daniel greeted him, making Max look up from where he was fucking around on his computer instead of sorting some of the files that he was supposed to be sorting “Tell Torger I have a date so the SEED meeting is a no from me but a huge yes from Charles. And you.”

Max rolled his eyes, staring Daniel down. He was still floating from probably showing off to whoever this date was, trying to impress them with the fact that he was The Devil. Max had seen him try and pick up when they went to the occasional Earth-side bar and he always pulled out the floating and tail as if most people weren’t scared of such a figure like The Devil. He was always baffled when it worked and Daniel ditched them to go off and do whatever he did on these trysts.

(Max tried to never think about it, lest he has to address the deep jealousy that crops up)

“I do not want to go, Daniel.” Max sighed, his fingers going back to pecking out the email he had already pulled up to draft to George, Toto’s assistant. He did not want to go but he still would, because he knew that these small pleasures came rarely to Daniel.

He’s spent over 40 years with Daniel and Charles, he knew them better than he would wish to admit. He knew that Charles was riddled with guilt for disparaging his mother and then dying and he still visited her salon when he could, disguised as a random teen.

He knew that Daniel felt so heavy with the burden of what put him in the position to be The Devil that he rarely gave himself any sort of actual happiness. Underneath the cherry red eyes and poker tail, he was scared of what he had to do daily to maintain his existence. He was secretly devastated that he and his fellow soldiers had died in a war that was supposed to end them all, just for another one to pop up 20 years later. He held his responsibility heavy around his neck like a collared dog.

“I know, Maxi-Pad, but: I’m your boss and I want you to attend. It’ll be good to help you get promoted.” Daniel simpered, a sly smile on his lips at his own joke.

“Promoted to what?” Charles chimed in as he walked in, angel dust still on his cheekbones from his angel boyfriend. Max didn’t understand why he always had to be Daniel’s assistant when there were two of them and Charles was perfectly capable of file organizing and emailing.

“To my two favorite demons!” He wrapped his arms around the both of them, dimples showing as he hugged them close. Letting out a pleased hum as he saw the email that Max was drafting

“We are, of course, the only demons you have.” Max snorted, signing his email off and sending it, even with Daniel squeezing him close. The Devil smelt like La Labo and Old Spice deodorant, as well as the Downey softener that he made all of Hell use.

All of Hell was just the three of them plus Charles’ boyfriend, but he still insisted that they all used it.

“Exactly! But, you’ll be my favorite demons out of alllll the demons and angels there are and that’s pretty sweet.” Daniel let go of them as George replied, confirming that it was alright for them to attend rather than Daniel.

“Great, now that we have that sorted: Charles I need your help picking out an outfit.” Daniel pulled Charles along and Max glared at him as Charles mouthed “Sorry!” over his shoulder.

Max went back to fucking around on reddit forums about being in love with your boss and the implications of it. Just for research. Humanity had become so informational since Max had died.

^_^

Max stewed about as he waited for Charles to finish helping Daniel, waiting to pounce on the other demon and quiz him on everything he knew. Daniel and Charles were each other’s gossip partners, but Max was Daniel’s movie and grocery shopping partner so it evened out in time given. But, Charles still always had the information that Max felt like he was missing.

When Charles finally walked out with a faint grin that bloomed into an intense smile when he saw Max, giggling to himself as Max glowered at him.

“Max, you are so silly.” Was all he said when he finally stopped in front of him, hands crossed as he looked quite smug.

“What do you mean?” Max said, huffy and indignant even if he was admittedly acting super silly and like a teenager with a crush. Which was: accurate but embarrassing. He was only a teenager in body, but in his 50s in spirit and yet he was acting pouty and jealous.

“Just tell Daniel that you like him! He adores you, you guys are always going on little trips together, no?” Charles was always so cryptic with him, it was frustrating.

“That doesn’t mean-you know, the world wide web says that it’s unethical for a boss to sleep with an employee.” Charles snorted, flopping next to Max on the living room couch, sprawling out and putting his feet under Max’s legs, which Max just accepted. It was 15 years too late to shove Charles away, anyway.

“We’re not his employees, we are his friends. Seb told me that Daniel was so lonely before we were chosen and that’s why he picked us out. He needed someone like us. Someone like him.” Charles said.

“Insane?” Max asked

“Gay and lonely.” Charles amended, pausing before adding “And insane.”

Max huffed a laugh, hugging his arms around himself, before preparing himself to ask. But, he didn’t have to, Charles already coming out with it.

“The guy’s name is Emiliano.” He said, a small smile playing on his lips “And Daniel really seems to like him. He couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful his, ah, turquoise eyes were.”

Max openly stared at Charles. What a best friend he was, saying all of this to him when he knew how Max felt!

“Come on, let’s get ready for the meeting. We can go out afterwards.” Charles had that look in his eyes that he had whenever he was planning something. Probably going to try and set Max up at the club they frequent, just so he wasn’t stewing so much about what Daniel could possibly be doing with his tail.

Charles had him dressed in his best white button up, the ripped black jeans that hugged his ass and thighs but weren’t too tight, and even let him borrow a pair of Jordan’s that were pristine and baby blue.

He made him wear his best cologne and style his hair in the nice tussled style that Charles said he looked best in, a sly grin on his face the entire time.

Unusually, Charles wasn’t dressed up with him, he was just in a faded t-shirt and some sweats. But, Charles had a face that distracted from anyone paying attention to anything else and he was taken, so he didn’t need to look good like Max did when they went out.

^_^

When Max walked through their transporting door (not to get confused with the door that dropped into the fiery pits), he was surprised to find himself without Charles and in a low lit restaurant, not the pristine marble halls of Angel Court.

He was also surprised to see Daniel smiling at him, horns and his tail out. Just like Max liked him, unashamed and glowing in his pseudo-godhood.

“Wha-We are missing the meeting.” Max was confused. Someone had to show up at the meeting, it was important and they had already pushed it back twice. It was to review their efficiency and what they needed to fix, which was a lot in Max’s opinion.

“No, Charles is at the meeting, Maxy. We are here.” Max frowned as Daniel stood up, walking towards him. He didn’t understand. Daniel was supposed to be on a date with Emiliano with the blue eyes while Max stewed and tried to convince Toto to give them another demon just so Max could do less desk work and more in the field work with Daniel.

“What about your date?” Max asked, voice softening as Daniel pulled out the chair for him and lightly pushed him down into it.

“You are my date, Max Emilian.” Daniel smiled at him, head tilting as he looked Max up and down, making him feel like there were a bunch of ants crawling up and down his spine with the way he shivered.

Daniel sighed, amused as he continued to just look at Max with his red fire filled eyes, tail flicking behind him absentmindedly as he reached out, hesitant. His thumb brushed Max’s clenched fist, rubbing softly over his knuckles.

“You like me, Max.” It was a fact, a statement that Daniel seemingly knew to be true with the way it came out of his mouth. Max flinched, feeling suddenly exposed,

“I like you too. Have since ‘97 when you rescued that cat from one of the sinners we had to confront.” Max was still silent, which seemingly amused Daniel.

“You also leave those forums that you browse open on the computer.” He added, which Max flushed at. He still felt a little out of depth.

“I was only on Earth for less than 20 years.” Max defended, unclenching his fist as Daniel’s hand wrapped loosely around his. “I don’t know these things. I lost my virginity and then died.” He flushed again at that admission. He had only told Charles about that little fact.

“I know all of that already. I also know that you would’ve never told me you liked me because you’re afraid that it’s against company policy.” Daniel’s thumb rubbed absentminded circles on Max’s knuckle, making his brain only able to focus on how wonderful it felt to have Daniel touching him.

“Turns out: I make the policy and I’ve decided it’s perfectly fine that you like me and I like you. It’s actually encouraged.” He continued, pausing his thumb to get Max to actually look at him.

Max felt deranged with how the suppressed want flowed through him, with the hope and adoration in Daniel’s eyes. Those eyes were looking at him, staring him down and Max wanted to lunge across the table and seal Daniel’s mouth shut with his own. He wanted to strip both of them down until all they had on was their matching horns (red for Daniel and gold for Max). He wanted to cry and yell that they’ve could’ve been together since 1997.

Instead he just replied, quite even and simple if he were to say so himself, “Well if it’s not against company policy and my boss is encouraging it, then, of course, as the star employee, I have to do it.”

Daniel beamed at him, lacing their fingers together.

^_^

Dinner was a quiet, tension filled affair. By the time that Max had his polite three bites of dessert, he was ready to go back home and present himself to Daniel like a cat in heat.

Instead, they walked out the door of the cute Italian restaurant and started walking, Daniel swinging their hands between them as he chatted with Max about small things. Max just wanted to get home, back to Hell and the comfort of their shared house so he could kiss Daniel, too nervous to kiss him in public, unsure how people would react around them.

“Are you good?” Daniel asked as he noticed Max start to slow down, dragging his arm out.

“Can we go home?” Max asked instead of answering. Daniel tilted his head before nodding, his face looking a little less excited than he was before. He snapped his fingers and guided Max through the next available door, right into their living room.

“What’s-“ Max didn’t let Daniel finish, gripping his shoulders and pulling him in for a frankly messy kiss, all nerves and inexperience. Daniel relaxed, hands coming up to cup Max’s jaw, tail wrapping around Max’s waist as they fell into each other.

Daniel was a lot more smooth than Max, coaxing him out of his frantic kissing and into something a little more slow and exploratory, gently tasting each other’s mouths.

Max wanted more and more. He secretly knew that if he ever had Daniel, he would actually lose his mind. He would never be able to have his fill, the endless void of want opening itself up to consume everything Daniel could ever give him and that scared him. The enormous feelings that encompassed him whenever Daniel was around. It was a million times worse already, now that he knew Daniel wanted him back.

He was canting his hips into Daniel’s without even realizing, seeking his warmth to soothe the burn of his own need.

“Max.” Daniel chuckled as Max let out a soft gasp, his own eyes flying open as he felt flooded with embarrassment. He had also feared that his desperation would be so easy to see the moment that he was ever in this position. It wasn’t easing his mind that he was right: Daniel was going to make him absolutely sick with love and want.

He pulled away, wanting to curl up and hide from his own arousal, his body pulsing like he had a heartbeat still.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Daniel soothed, his tail still wrapped around his waist, drawing him in. He pressed a kiss to the space under Max’s ear, pulling him close. Max could feel Daniel’s dick against his hip, half hard and pressing against him as Daniel trailed small kisses against Max’s neck, making his head tilt to the side.

“Daniel-“ He cut himself off before he continued, trying to find the words “Let me.”

He pulled away just a little so he could make Daniel feel good but paused when Daniel’s hands covered his, stopping him.

“Don’t worry about that, baby.” Daniel assured him, his hands guiding Max’s hands to his waist. “We have plenty of time for me. I’ve been tortured into watching you wear these jeans for years without being able to appreciate your thighs.” His hands dropped from Max’s to grab at Max’s ass, palming it before sliding down and gripping Max’s thighs.

Max let out a soft sound, his hips twitching into thin air as Daniel gripped him before letting go and unhooking his button and unzipping his jeans with quick efficiency that had to come from practice. Max would ruminate over that later when he didn’t have Daniel’s hands down his pants, cupping him gently through his boxers.

Max had always been secretly ashamed of what he was (or wasn’t, rather) packing. Even the guy he fucked in the confession box had seemed a little shut down when he realized that Max didn’t exactly have the length to fuck him and so he’d have to top.

But Daniel looked down at what his hand was cupping and audibly moaned when he saw Max’s cock jutting out, barely the length of his middle finger and flushed an angry red from his want.

“I’m so-“ Max started and Daniel cut him off with a shake of his head, palming Max and wrapping his thumb and forefinger around him, stroking him as he used his other hand to press his thumb against the mole on Max’s lip, effectively shutting him up.

“You drive me insane with how perfect you are, don’t you dare apologize.” Daniel’s eyes flared with more fire as he spoke. Max’s lips parted, not to disagree but to take Daniel’s thumb into his mouth, sucking in long draws when he couldn’t think of anything else. He needed something to ground himself before he came all over Daniel’s hand from some heavy petting and praise.

Daniel’s tail crept down the back of Max’s boxers, which were now sagging down his thighs, the poker end gently pressing against him as if Daniel was trying to breach him. Max’s hand flew up to grip Daniel’s hair but caught on his horn, grabbing the first thing felt for purchase as the end gently probed against him, his toes curling in his borrowed shoes.

This was going to end embarrassingly quickly if Daniel didn’t stop using everything he had against Max.

Max hissed, sounding muffled against Daniel’s thumb as he continued to use his tail on him, not pushing far, just enough to make Max feel set on fire from his greatest fantasy coming to life.

“You want my tail?” Daniel asked, seemingly blown away by Max’s reaction to some light exploring. Max felt feverish at the suggestion, just nodding as his eyes fluttered open and then shut, the whole image too much for him.

Daniel took his thumb from Max’s mouth, even as Max tried to chase it, worrying that he would spill just how much he wanted every part of Daniel inside of him at once and how much he had fantasized it.

He heard a snap before he felt something cold drip down his crack and over hole, slick and viscous. He realized, probably a couple seconds too late, that Daniel had conjured lube so he could give Max just that.

The first press of Daniel’s tail inside of him had him feeling light headed as Daniel slowly stroked him, thumb pressing the under side of his cock deliciously, seemingly deeply aware of what made Max tick already.

Max gasped as it breached him fully, curled up inside of him and just tad too hot to be fully human, making him swear as he attempted to rock back against it, his fingers curling around Daniel’s horns even more, yanking him down as Daniel gasped as well, mouth instinctively sealing against Max’s collarbone.

Max’s horns were very sensitive and they were only a third of the size of Daniel’s, so he can’t imagine just how sensitive Daniel’s were with how Max was holding onto them.

Daniel’s tail curled inside of Max again and he felt himself hurdling down the cliff into pure bliss as he moaned, spilling onto Daniel’s hand embarrassingly quick, clenching around Daniel’s tail as he came down.

Daniel as breathing heavily, his hand that caught Max’s cum furiously stroking himself off, his mouth still sucking on Max’s neck as he hurdled down after Max, spurred on by the way that Max was stroking his horns, watching with his mouth dropped open in awe.

“Fuck.” Daniel half laughed once they were both breathing normally, his tail still in Max. “We need to see just how much of my tail you can take.”

[lskisms]

YOU, AT LEAST, WERE BUILT TO GO, J. MILLER

. . . which is why you are able to be loved

synopsis — joel is getting older, he is getting frail, and you, still in your youth, have to come to terms with it. you just have to do so much sooner than you thought when he’s hurt during your attempt to escape the university of eastern colorado.

genres &&. warnings — angst, hurt/comfort, (post) apocalypse &&. canon compliant, spoilers for ep. 6 “kin” and ep. 7 “left behind,” contemplation of death, canon-typical violence (wound, gore, blood, wound care), age-gap (reader is in their mid-late 20s).

word count — 3.2k

note from r — title comes from the poem “elegy for my innocence” by steven dunn. i suppose i need to introduce myself a little: i’m rhi, i’m 22, and i’m in my second to last semester of college where i’m majoring in english. obvi, a big fan of the last of us, but also resident evil (which is what i’ve based my account aesthetic on, courtesy of my beloved leon s. kennedy). my ask box is open for people who want to send in asks and things. i’m really looking forward to writing for my fellow joel miller lovers.

if your parents were still alive, if they were around to see the life you’ve carved for yourself over the last few months, you’re certain your dad would want to smack the shit out of you and your mother would disown you from the family faster than you could blink.

you can hear the chastising now: a man old enough to be your father? are you joking? what the fuck is wrong with you? this is not what we meant when we told you we wanted you to start a family. 

and you can’t fault them really. you are almost twenty years his senior, having been just a young child when the cordyceps outbreak decimated the world. if the world had stayed normal, if none of this had ever happened, you’d probably have a dead end corporate job that has you wanting to drop off the face of the earth at the end of every grueling day, married and going home to a man complacent and yielding in every aspect, never too sure of himself to assert any kind of dominance, stuck in his own dead end job that keeps you comfortable just enough.

but the world isn’t normal and it hasn’t been since 2003. and there’s nothing you can do about it. you feel like a child again, wholly the depiction of the angsty teen in dramas and romcoms, as you tell the ghosts of your parents that the heart wants what it wants and i can’t help that i fell in love with a man going starlight gray at his temples. it is wholly melodramatic, something that you would have seen in any number of teen dramas written by out-of-touch, old white men.

joel miller came into your life like a lone crimson leaf during the fall, sometime during your first few months at the boston quarantine zone. it wasn’t like he’d meant to because everything that man did and does is deliberate; he’d simply waltzed across your line of vision as you’d walked back to your apartment after a long day of doing menial chores, the new world equivalent of that mental-health-issue inducing corporate job that the older people of the zone talked about.

you’d heard of him, of course: joel miller, flown in from somewhere down south, a menace to anyone who crossed his path prior to his arrival in boston, a brother somewhere out in the midwest who had taken off and joined the fireflies. he was decidedly unapproachable, gruff and mean and stubborn. most people were more scared of him than they were of fedra for the simple fact that he was more deadly with his two bare hands than any fedra idiot (sorry, “soldier”) with a gun.

he wasn’t a person who you intended to mess around with, no matter how handsome you’d thought he was when you saw him that first time. but then you’d started hanging around with tess, one of very few people who had any kind of stable-enough connection with him and that had led to you meeting and hanging around with him too. tess invited you to go on runs with them, sneaking out of the zone at night to stretch your legs and look for supplies that fedra definitely had and refused to give up. she’d preached your capabilities to joel and, stubborn as he was, he’d allowed you to keep coming with them after the first time because you proved to be spry enough for things that he and tess had grown a little too old for: you were useful to him and that filled you with a kind of thrilling gratification.

by the time marlene had tasked your little trio with getting ellie out of the city, you were a year deep into your entanglement with joel where you did all the recreational talking and he was the one who made the deals with the fireflies, the fedra goons he had in his pocket, the people who had things to trade. it was a balance that worked well for you: joel was well-versed in persuasion when he wanted to be and you were seemingly the only person who could draw out the rare ghost of a smile or a laugh from him.

it was supposed to be a quick job, one that joel had insisted you sit out but you’d refused. just a quick round trip tpe thing, that’s what you’d said to him. we’ll be out and back before anybody even realizes we’re gone. 

that had gone belly-up, of course, because anything that involved the fireflies had at least a 99% chance of not turning out the way anyone planned. and when you’d left the museum, you were down a friend and up a whole ton of miles. joel had tried to convince you again to leave, but once more you’d refused. tess died for us, joel. i’m in this until the end because i’m making sure her sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.

and he’d let you stay. even months after that discussion, you think that he must feel at least a tiny bit grateful that you’d argued with him over it, that you’d fought to tag along. you’re an extra set of eyes, of hands, someone capable of taking over when he needs a break, which is hardly ever because he’s still as ornery as always, but knowing that there’s someone there who can must be nice enough.

and you’re glad he’d given in for once in his life because he’s dying beneath your hands and you’re not sure what to do. he’s going sallow and gray on the concrete floor of this ransacked house, breathing raspy and eyes slipping between you and some far-off point above him. joel is dying and for the first time ever since entering his life, you’re useless.

“joel, stay awake, please,” you beg, clutching at his hand as you kneel beside him. “ellie, you have to stop the bleeding.”

“i’m trying,” the young girl snaps. when she looks up, all you see is a girl who is reliving a loss, a deer caught in headlights, frenzied and terrified. her hands press the cloth harder over joel’s stomach in an attempt to staunch the blood flow and the man groans.

“leave,” he mumbles and your head snaps to look at him. he cannot possibly be saying this right now, not after everything you’ve been through. “leave. head north, go back to jackson. find tommy.”

“like hell we will,” you reply, trying to channel as much of his stubbornness as you can. you’d rather give up and drop dead right now than leave him to die alone in some fucking house in colorado. “we’re gonna fix this, joel. we’re not leaving, i’m not leaving.”

he’s slipping again, eyes glazing over. you can tell he wants to fight with you, but he’s losing the energy for it. for any of it. ellie stills and then tosses his jacket over him in a bid to keep him warm. she fixes you with a look, his look that says stay with him, so you nod solemnly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. you hear her footsteps on the stairs and only when the door shuts behind her do you finally let yourself break, weeping openly over joel’s chest, rising and falling so, so shallowly.

falling in love with this man has been something beautiful, some kind of phoenix rising from the ashes of a long-dead world. over the last few months, you have come to learn the feel of his knuckles brushing against yours, the warmth of his chest against your back when you share a sleeping bag, the sound of his soft breaths as you’ve trekked through miles upon miles of woods and abandoned highways. you have come to appreciate those things, facets of him that only you are privy to, the only person to know the weight of his arm over your waist and feel of his breath against your shoulder.

but in doing so, in reveling in the knowledge that you are the sole person to experience these hidden away pieces of joel miller, you’ve forgotten just how much older he is than you are. that misty gray at his temples and in his beard have been so permanent, you’ve started to believe that he’s always looked like this, that it’s not a marker of his age. you’ve forgotten that he is older and growing frailer by the day, conveniently forgotten how his heart stutters and how his knees act up after hours and miles of walking.

you had always known, of course, that joel would eventually leave you, but not this soon. and not like this.

maybe it’s your fault for putting him on a pedestal: the great, unstoppable joel miller. in your mind, he’s untouchable, some formidable opponent who people fear because he’s strong and knows his way around a fight. it shouldn’t be a chunk of a broken baseball bat that ends his life because it’s not fair, none of this is fair. you’ve been a fool for thinking that the three of you, your unlikely little family, would make it out of this unscathed, for believing that you could live a life like bill and frank’s after this all was over: fulfilling, safe, and the closest resemblance of before.

“god,” you whimper out, still brushing your fingers through his salt and pepper hair. “how could you even consider telling us to leave you here, joel?”

he gazes up at you, blinks slowly, the smallest signs of life that tell you he’s listening and wanting to fight you back about it.

“y’can’t leave me alone here, old man.” a short, wet laugh. “we’ve got so much left to do. i can’t get ellie back to jackson without you. i can’t do anything without you.”

he shakes his head in response and narrows those dark eyes of his just a bit. you read it for what it is: don’t you start talkin’ about yourself like that. he’s always been hard on you for not believing in yourself and your abilities, and it makes you laugh again.

“i mean really, joel. first man i’ve ever loved and you’re telling me to leave you here to die alone in fucking colorado.” you shake your head, looking away to try to blink back tears. “i can’t- i can’t just go. i need you alive.”

you can’t even stop yourself from babbling through the tears, brushing his hair back and wiping away his own tears. even though you should be desensitized to death and loss, you’ve always been particularly sensitive. but you’re young and this is your first love, your only shot at it, and he’s bleeding out on a cold floor because you were too focused on everything else that you hadn’t been able to stop him from getting hurt.

“ain’t your fault,” joel rasps out, eyes shining in the dull winter light. you realize you voiced that, a placing of responsibility that you’d meant for yourself and yourself only. “don’t do that.”

you stare at him and you know what’s going through that head of his. all kinds of thoughts that he wants to voice out loud: it’s not your fault and you were doing the best you could in the situation and this was going to happen sooner or later. damn pessimistic realist, always focusing on the worst possible outcomes than entertaining any kind of optimism.

and in a twisted turn of events, you start to think of your parents, long gone and relegated solely to memory, buried somewhere between atlanta and boston: an optimistic dad and an overwhelmingly realistic mother, so far on opposite ends of a spectrum that they complemented each other perfectly. your dad, ever the poet, had stolen poetry collections from every bookstore he’d came across during your treks from settlement to settlement. his favorite poem, by far, was about the death of a person’s innocence, something always meant to die eventually, perpetually blushing and always coming back a little less pristine each time.

you remember it now as you’re holding joel’s hand with your own, pressing his knuckles against the soft plush of your cheek. you, at least, were built to go, you hear your father’s voice say in your head, which is why you are able to be loved. you haven’t thought about this poem in years, not since you lost him to a runner somewhere in south carolina, but it feels sickening that you’re recalling it now as you’re watching your first and only love die under your hands.

and yet, somehow, it feels comforting, the idea that to be human is to know that one day, a loved one will die, but to know that is to cherish them better, to love them harder. you’re not at all okay with joel dying because you’ve had so little time to love him, but it helps you to cherish those few late nights more, to revel in the memory of his warmth enveloping you on particularly cold nights.

you can let me go. joel’s dark eyes are going glossy again and you smile knowingly at him, still crying. he’s not dead yet and there’s a possibility that he’ll make it out of this alive, the outcome that you’re praying to every god that has ever existed for. you can let me go; it won’t be easy, but you can do it.

ellie’s feet as loud on the old wood stairs as she comes barreling through the door and down the stairwell. she looks rabid as she all but throws herself onto the floor beside joel, ripping the tan coat back and pulling the soaked cloth away. joel’s wound is still gushing blood, a sure sign that he’s well on his way to death, but when ellie makes eye contact with you, you know for sure she’s found something to help. she holds up a needle and spool of thread; she must have torn the entire house apart looking for her hail mary and she found it, she fucking found it. she stares at you, eyes wide and face red, breathing hard, waiting for your go ahead.

when you finally nod at her, fresh tears in your eyes, you look down at joel. his fingers curl around your palm tighter and he’s staring back, his eyes wide. you laugh tearfully, totally and entirely stunned that ellie had actually found a way to help.

“you’re gonna be okay,” you weep, pressing his hand to your forehead, letting your tears drip into your lap. “you’re gonna be okay, joel. just hang on.”

the next few minutes crawl by cruelly, joel surely leaving bruises on your hand from gripping yours too hard, too tight, but you can’t even care because when his hand finally goes slack, ellie is done. her handiwork isn’t so bad and the bleeding has stopped for the most part. when you sigh, it feels like the weight of the world leaves your shoulders, a degree of relief you’ve never felt in your life.

joel, stubborn as always, is fighting unconsciousness as you turn to look back at him and you know it’s because he knows he’s not entirely out of the woods yet. there’s still bleeding to stop, a potential infection to fight, medicine you need to find to keep him safe and healthy, but this has to be good enough for now. it has to be because he’s joel miller and he’s mucked it through gunshot wounds and temporary deafness and all kinds of other shit the world has thrown at him. 

ellie, clearly emotionally gone, stands, her dark eyes empty and her face void of everything save for exhaustion. without even looking at you, she turns towards the stairs and says to nobody, “going for a walk. i need a break.”

her footsteps echo in the stairwell and then creak overhead before she disappears out the front door, leaving you in an empty house with joel and the horse in the garage. you look back to joel, still holding his hand. his face, always so devoid of anything minus annoyance and anger, looks so relieved right now and it makes you want to cry again, but you’re shit out of saline. you lay his hand down beside him before you tuck his winter coat back over him, up to the chin.

there’s not much that you can say, no thoughts come to mind. nothing more than i love you, but you want to save those for when he’s safely out of the thick of this. as true as they are, it’s not the right time, but you’re sure he knows. he must when he scoots his hand out from under the coat and nudges it against your thigh, some gesture that you can’t decode, but that you understand as i’m still here, like he’s able to read your mind. you smile at him softly.

i’ll tell him when this is all over, you reason with yourself as you move to lay beside him, exhaustion finally overtaking you. wherever we end up after ellie is safe with the fireflies, i’ll tell him and he’ll say it back and we’ll be okay.

he can’t turn onto his side, but he turns his head to face you, looking every bit the age of fifty. his eyes are tired and the crinkles of his skin run deep, his cheeks and chin dusted gray. this close, you can see every pock mark, the dip of skin at his temple from some long-forgotten cut, the deep scar that mars the space between his eyebrows. his defenses are down and he looks his age, for the first time in a long time because it’s so easy to forget how old he is when he’s doing the things he does to protect you and ellie.

you scoot in as far as you’ll allow yourself, knees knocking against his legs and your head pillowed on the arm underneath you. you raise a hand and rest it on his cheek, a touch he immediately leans into, like your palm was made to caress his skin. as far as you care, it was. he tilts his head towards you and you find yourself doing the same, foreheads touching. this is one of the small gestures joel allows you on most days, but right now, it feels more monumental than that. like always, it’s a moment shared singularly between the two of you, but it carries so much more weight because he gazes at you with so much more softness and love than he’s ever let himself show before and it reminds you that underneath all that rough exterior, he is a man capable of gentle touches and adoration, no matter how many times the world and himself have tried to beat it out of him.

as his breathing slows, but deepens (a sure sign that ellie has mended the problem for now), you move your arm to rest on his torso, hand pressed into the sturdy spot just above his heart. the beat is steady, solid, a reminder that he’s okay. he was built to go, but now more than ever, you feel he was also built to be yours, to be loved by you. and you’ll make sure he makes it through this, no matter the cost.

(c) lskisms, 2023. do not repost, translate, or otherwise plagiarize my work. the only official versions of my work are available on tumblr and ao3 under the name lskisms.

[hello-galad]

No one asked for this but here i am shoving my Cid age-related headcanons down y’all’s throat.

This all started because I saw @renegadeem ‘s comment on a post about Valenwind and Cid’s age and the Curious Case of Square Enix Not Giving Us Characters That Are Canonically Over 40 (then you take a look at some of them and you know in your heart they are 62, twice divorced and currently screaming at some kids to get off their lawn).

Alright, buckle up. I’m about to monologue, ladies, gents, non-binary peeps and everybody else in between:

Note: Have in mind I headcanon Shera to be two years younger than Cid and to have also been part of the Shinra Youth Science Program but at different years. Note note: this might change in the future because I’m like a sponge and i absorb hcs.

At 16 years-old Cid Highwind Gets into the Shinra Youth Science Program at Midgar.

I’m sure Shinra has programs like these to catch brilliant minds that help them build their empires (labor force that already know how to do the job you want them to) like most transnational companies do in our world.

There, all students must take military training, they even share some classes with the Cadets for SOLDIER.

On a side note, given his stats in the game and his weapon of choice I say he comes from a family of dragoons and Heidegger takes an interest in him but Cid is focused on becoming an engineer and that is more useful to Shinra.

There is a fic i really love that sorta touches the topic of Cid’s family as dragoons by one of my favorite authors Vinvalen right here (Valenwind: Crusader rain) .

At 20 years-old Cid graduates top of his class as Mechanical engineer. He starts working on building aircraft and flight hardware for Shinra as he starts his career to become an Aerospace Engineer.

At 24 years-old he graduates top of his class as Aerospace Engineer at Shinra.

At 26 years-old Cid gets his pilot’s license with more than 500 hours of flight. Starts the prototype for what he started calling THE SHINRA I. He would later develop the blueprints further to build what will be THE HIGHWIND.

At 28 years of age Cid and Shera present the initiative for the Space Program to Shinra with the initial project and blueprints for a rocket and satellite. The Satellite should have been deployed first and left to circle around The Planet in the upper orbit a year before the rocket launch.

Shinra approves of the project eight months later and Cid Highwind becomes Chief Engineer of it with Shera as Chief scientist and his second in command. The base is settled in a small town outside Midgard that will later be known as Rocket Town.

At 32 years old, Shera (30) and Cid get married. They never really dated, but they spent so much time together that they both decided “why not?”.

Evidently, that goes downhill from there because tHAT IS NOT HOW HEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS ARE BUILT.

When Cid is 33 years old, the first satellite gets deployed earlier. The mission is a complete success and Shinra has plans to put a couple more in orbit except instead of using them for research, Scarlet and Heidegger wish to weaponize them with Mako Canons. Cid is against this at first but understands that he can’t really say no to Shinra when they are the ones funding the Space Program.

Him and Shera don’t really talk to each other outside of work, they do fuck occasionally to let out steam but that keeps happening less and less.

When Cid is 36 years old Shera almost dies and Cid stops the launch to save her.

Cid is downgraded from Chief engineer and one year later, Shinra cancels the Space Program taking away every single blueprint and infrastructure project Cid ever created when working for Shinra and they basically try to alienate him when Cid tries to fight back. Shera keeps working for them in charge of space communications. Cid is devastated.

As a side project, Cid starts the blueprint and building of the BRONCO I (Later known as the Tiny Bronco. Later known as a) the plane Cloud almost broke and b) The “ARE WE SERIOUSLY USING MY FUCKIN PLANE AS A BOAT DAMMIT FINE WHATEVER IT TAKES TO FUCK SHINRA OVER”).

When Cid is 37 years old, him and Shera get divorced, the divorce documentation was initiated by Shera. Despite the fact that they haven’t even slept together in the same room in literal years, Cid was willing to live unhappily for her sake. She decides to stop that, but her mental health is still not the best and she has developed an attachment to him so she stays in Rocket Town “Taking care of him” as Cid goes in what Shera is afraid is a sort of self-destructive path.

Cid works on personal projects, flying people and cargo across The Planet and fixing and building things for other people. Shinra sends a Turk sometimes to spy on what he’s doing to make sure that whatever he’s building isn’t something that goes against Shinra. After all, they know he’s capable of building a ship with the right tools and Cid is quite crafty.

At 38 years old Cid is angry at Shinra, Shera, the planet, everyone really, and specially himself. He loathes Rocket Town but can’t bring himself to actually leave. He thinks he has to deal with what he thinks was the failure of his lifetime (“To atone for his sins” in a way *cough cough*). He starts flying people around and killing the Mako infected beasts that attack Rocket Town occasionally. He’s kept himself in shape all this time because habits are hard to break and he’s mildly paranoid of Turks (with good reason) and other shit he knows Shinra has been developing.

In the year he reaches 39 years of age he meets a group of eco-terrorist weirdos that seem to travel with the daughter of Ilfana, a scientist he once had the hots for back at Shinra.

Said group is made of a rogue traumatized SOLDIER, a girl who could kick his ass with her fists, Ilfana’s daughter who is actually a part of a now extinct ancient human race, what appears to be a talking lion, a robot cat that rides a mog, a teenage ninja girl that gets a kick out of calling him old, a mother hen in the shape of a very ripped man with a gun for an arm and a gunslinger vampire.

Then Cid Highwind goes to space, Vincent is next to him on the Rocket, Shera is Chief Mission Control working along with his old team who also decided to say “fuck you” to Shinra and have taken over a building. This is the start of a new chapter for him, finally.

By this point Cid had been telling himself he is not in love with Vincent for almost a year, you know, like a liar. He has never loved anyone like he loves Vincent. He used to love Shera, of course, but not like this. He still cares for her, but when he married Shera they were both 30 and it seemed like the right next thing they had to do. He never bothered to learn about Shera’s favorite books outside the ones related to their work or which desserts would make her close her eyes in delight. They would fuck when they were horny and sleep on the same bed but never did Cid whispered bad poetry against her collarbone and slept better when he could feel her hair against his shoulder.

When Sephiroth is defeated, Meteor is stopped by Holy and everyone goes home for a while to rest, him and Vincent talk and Vincent knows that he wants to stay with Cid but he is still so scared. Years of torture and trauma are slow to heal, sometimes they don’t heal ever, and Cid is okay with that. Whatever Vincent needs, Cid will give him. Vincent loves Cid so much he is willing to try.

Shera and Cid talk and she stays at the house for one more year before she finally decides to go over everything that happened and starts living her own life for herself.

When Cid is 41 years of age, him and Shera create HIGHWIND Corp as co-owners with Shera as CEO and Cid as Chief engineer. They work alongside the WRO to rebuilt the planet using sustainable energy and building sustainable hardware and software. Cid knows Shinra is involved, with Rufus re-building Shinra with an eco-perspective now. This time though, HIGHWIND Corp is negotiating through the WRO and Cid and Shera are not afraid to say “fuck you, no”.

Vincent comes and goes from Rocket Town. Cid buys some land almost in the middle of nowhere and stablishes his house, hangar and workshop there, Vincent follows. He has his own room at the house even if Cid and him sleep in the same bed most of the time and Vincent spends a lot of time perched somewhere on a crate looming over Cid at the workshop, usually reading and listening to Cid work.

Yuffie is also a common guest and she has her own room there as well.

Vincent receives a call from Reeve, there’s been a couple of disappearances and an organization that calls itself “the underground” seem to be responsible. Cid flies Vincent around on his mission to destroy the underground and happily blows some shit up.

After literal decades, Vincent finally faces the fact that he was a victim, that Lucretia was just as guilty as Hojo. He discovers what happened to Grimoire, visits his mother’s grave and is finally on the path to believing that he was not responsible for the awful things done to him.

Turns out that Vincent’s past demons are worst than his actual very real demons. He gets into common ground with them and they recognize him not only as their host but as their link to the Planet and are willing to fight for him.

Chaos decides to go against their nature as a demigod of death and destruction and they defeat Omega.

Chaos doesn’t go back to the planet, he stays with Vincent, although their relationship changes from “I was trapped inside in this vessel against my will and I’m angry” to “you are my host and we take care of the host, thank you for being our link to The Planet”.

The others agree. Vincent receives them not because he has to, but because he wants to.

[Vincent goes to Lucretia’s cave after that and he tells her about what he found in her and Hojo’s archives, tells her that he’s sorry he couldn’t protect her and that he knows and remembers what she did to him. For the first time he is not seeing her as perfect, just as she was: a scientist who wanted results, a human who was moved by the power of knowledge, imperfect, responsible for some of the scars on his body and his mind. She was not responsible for the perfect imagine of her he made up in his head. For his own unresolved trauma that lead him to believe he had to love her and she could have loved him.

Vincent tells her that Grimoire’s death was not her fault. He tells her what he knows now of Chaos, how they are more than just a creature, more than just rare materia.

Then, Vincent tells Lucretia about Cid. About how he loves him and the way he loudly snores. About how Cid loves going star-watching. About how he’s been painting, The Planet and Vincent being his favorite subjects.

Vincent tells her about how he was so scared of falling in love again but then in those moments after defeating Omega and realizing he might die for real this time, he was more scared of Cid not knowing he loved him.

He tells her about how, when he fell to the ground, Chaos in distress inside of him, Vincent too tired, too many bones broken and internal bleeding to move, the realization that he was not healing settling in; he thought about his life, about his parents and Veld, about his new friends and Aerith, who he knew was watching over them from the livestream, about the letter Tifa would carry with her everywhere, the beautiful strokes of Aerith’s handwriting unmistakeable, even when a couple of years ago, tears had soaked the paper. About Cloud crying every night after he managed to remember who he was before he was experimented on by Hojo, about him carefully cradling the dog tags Tseng gave him after Meteor was gone, the same name on them that Cloud used to whisper on those long nights when he thought everyone in the party was already asleep: “Zack”.

He thought about Sephiroth believing Jenova was his mother instead of knowing of Lucretia, of having his own father treat him like an experiment. He thought of that young SOLDIER, Genesis, half broken and willing to sleep forever, just like Vincent once did, until he was reminded there’s more to live for.

He thought of Marlene and a distressed Barret wondering if his daughter was still alive, of Nanaki, still young and a guardian now. He thought of Shera and her husband and how their daughter liked frogs and helping Uncle Cid build rockets made of cardboard.

Thought of her, Lucretia, and how Vincent’s love for her sprouted out of a promise to Grimoire to keep her safe before he disappeared mixed with the guilt that he couldn’t keep his promise. Thought of dumbapple pie from the dumbapple tree that randomly started growing in Cid’s land, about spring and Cid and Vincent building their garden.

He thought about home.

Finally in what would become the moment Vincent begins to let go he thanks her, forgives her. Then, the Planet finally lets Lucretia go, the cristal she was trapped in atoning for her own sins breaks and she finally joins the Lifestream. ]

When Cid turns 43 years old, AVALANCHE celebrates at the Seventh Heaven, there are old and new faces alike, almost all of them familiar. Shera and her husband and kid are there along with an older man with a scar on his face that Vincent calls “partner”. The Turks had the nerve to turn up but Cid stops giving them the evil eye when Tseng walks straight to Vincent’s “Partner”, eyes red and upper lip trembling and hugs him. All this in seconds before the Turk is back to his serene almost stoic face.

Rufus Shinra sends a present with them, of fucking course. Reeve takes it from Cid’s hands before he rips it apart. Funnily enough, its a bottle of his favorite whiskey and an actual damn letter reading “My gift to you is not having to see my face for the whole day, you are welcome. No, the whiskey is not poisoned. Stop being so paranoid Captain Highwind” in it. “Yah, I’ll stop being paranoid of damn Shinra when that fuckin’ brat stops wearin’ suits with more belts than the ones that’re supposed to keep yer pants up and yer gun in place, dammit!”

When Cid is 50 years of age, him and Vincent attend Yuffie’s wedding (they are like her parents. She didnt imprint on them, they imprinted on her. Vincent still calls her to reminds her to eat enough vegetables every week even when she’s over 30, Cid still calls her ‘mah kid’).

Vincent wears a suit, Cerberus rests in its holster on his right thigh and if he appears behind Cid with an actual shovel, eyes glowing Mako red and Chaos golden as Cid’s having a “friendly talk” with the groom…thats between him, Cid and the poor bastard. Cid wears his Captain uniform. Both look hot as hell. Both rail each other after the reception. Life is good.

(Check out @mamoru-chiba-ua ‘s art for the reference of Cid and Vincent at Yuffie’s wedding)

[kib-ble]

forgive and forget

(joel miller x reader)

reader watches joel come into jackson after thinking she would never see him again.

tw: a lot of TLOU spoilers, sarah’s death

20 years had past since you’ve seen joel. 20 years had past since you’ve seen sarah’s contagious smile. everything hurt when you realized you may not ever see joel again.

you followed tommy west after meeting tess and joel agreed to follow her to boston. you wanted to go with joel but he insisted that he wanted to go alone with tess, that you should follow tommy. after that, you both went your separate ways. you followed tommy and found a group of people who wanted to settle down and create town, and that’s what you all did.

after about ten years, joel was still on your mind. you had missed him dearly. you’re life before the apocalypse was perfect, waking up to joel every morning, spending the morning making breakfast for your small family you had been brought into, and going to your small, comfortable workplace. you were happy and you were comfortable. the day of joel’s birthday was the day the outbreak became known. you were home, making dinner for everyone, joel was picking up tommy from the police station and sarah was at the neighbors. the two brothers came rushing home, tommy getting you out of the house and joel protecting his daughter from the now phsyco old neighbor. they forced you two into the truck and drove off. the night was a blur. the car accident, following tommy to get to joel and sarah, tommy shooting the soldier, trying to save sarah, and dragging joel off her limp body.

jackson was almost an escape from the reality you had been living in for those 20 years. you were protected and happy. you had a simple job, to feed the animals. two a day, everyday. so easy you got bored quickly but found your joy by playing with them. it was like a second family.

news spread quickly that when the patrol groups didn’t come back right away, they were all killed. it wasn’t something you believed. maybe they found some animals, found a town and looted it, found more people to add to the town. the possibilities were endless, but they haven’t died.

you watched from were tommy and few others were working to see the patrol group come back, with an older man and a younger girl. he got off the horse quickly and looked around, before landing his eyes on one of the guys above you.

“tommy!!” his deeper voice yelled, earning the attention from your was soon-to-be brother-in-law. his arm that was raised to show were he was, lowered to his side before the two met in the middle in a big bear hug. you’re eyes widened when you realized who it was.

joel fucking miller.

when they released each other from the hug, tommy looked over at you, waving you over. a small amount of hesitation came from you before you rushed over to him, hugging joel tightly.

“you dick, joel.” you whispered in his ear, head digging into his neck. his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you off the ground when he realized who you were.

“darlin’” his hushed voice spoke into your hair, holding you so close to him. one hand held the back of our head when you two pulled away and looked into your crying eyes before kissing you softly. something he hasn’t done in 20 years, to anyone. “fuck, darlin. you have no idea how happy i am youre alive.”

you smiled softly, holding the side of his face to admire him. the scar he had gotten from “the guy that had a terrible aim” now very visible in the day light, aswell as his gray, longer hair. oh, how you missed seeing him, holding him this close.

“i never thought i’d see you again..” more tears fell as you spoke.

“i came for you, baby girl”