#he probably does odd jobs on top of everything else he does in order to afford his fashion sense lol

[akkivee]

i decided i wanted to know if the gemstone on kuukou’s ring meant anything and have been digging around the internet for answers lol. across the board, black gemstones are used for mood regulation so to say; it’s to turn depression into motivation and passion and to regenerate energy

as for what gemstone it could be, i think it’s not something hypmic has any interest in defining so therefore i believe has no set rock (and it’s a little hard to tell if said gemstone has been part of kuukou’s design from the beginning or is part of his design tweeks he gets sometimes lol 💀) but in buddhism, the diamond is a very important gem!!! the weapon that the dragon in kuukou’s speaker holds is called a ‘vajra’ which directly translates to ‘diamond’!!!! it could very well be a black diamond ring!!!!!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 425: New Normal

Previously on BnHA: Everyone was all “and with that we conclude our final battle for better or worse!! We will now commence our slow return to the new normal, beginning with our protagonist and deuteragonist who are miraculously more or less intact, albeit exhausted and mildly traumatized. Also the words ‘more or less’ are kind of doing a lot of heavy lifting there.”

Today on BnHA: The Big 3 and Aoyama are OUT. Shinsou is IN. The Tododrama is PENDING, and the mysterious figure in the shadows is UNIDENTIFIED. Also class 1-A finally becomes class 2-A and it only took them 425 chapters and TEN LONG YEARS. Can you imagine if this series had actually run throughout their high school experience like people once expected. “THE YEAR IS 2044 AND MY HERO ACADEMIA IS FINALLY WINDING TO A CLOSE.” There’s an alternate universe somewhere where this actually happened and we were all so very, very tired.

This is once again a shorter than usual reaction summary post, as opposed to my typical page-by-page liveblog. Not gonna have time to do those for a while yet most likely, but like hell am I gonna miss out on the last days of the series, so here we are.

Once again basing this off of @pikahlua’s spoiler translation summary here!

watching the eighteen inch tall Rat Principal standing at a podium overseeing this graduation ceremony is surreal in the most wonderful way. it’s like receiving your diploma from a sentient Funko Pop

I love how they established that Mic sitting there screaming at the top of his lungs is also a beloved U.A. graduation tradition, and that the senpais just roll with it while everyone else is in varying stages of trying to decide if it’s too late to transfer to another school

ngl sometimes I forget that Ochako and Toga were actually the second canonical f/f ship in this series. shoutout to Hadou and her adorable girlfriend whose name I absolutely cannot recall

absolutely wild that Horikoshi gives credit to Rat Principal for coordinating the entire disaster recovery nationwide. are you serious. the “world-famous” Principal Nezu?? you’re telling me this little capybara is effectively the secret president of Japan now or something. when does he even sleep

“the principal made great contributions to quirk morality education” is also a VERY interesting tidbit that I really want to know more about. “hey guys what if we did a better job at teaching people not to be dicks with their quirks” AND JUST LIKE THAT JAPAN WAS SAVED huzzah

“we lost many things, but we gained nothing” is both HILARIOUS and soundly depressing, but I can see what he’s trying to get at. still an odd choice for a graduation speech though. “our job is all about harm reduction, and we couldn’t even do that this time around, but in the future we hope to balance things out and maybe even get some net positive impact going!” lmao. again it’s all true, and in all honesty it’s spectacular that they managed as well as they did, all things considered. and I guess it would have been disingenuous to just ignore the reality of everything this particular school body has been through and pretend like everything is great right now. but I still can’t help feeling like there was probably a more inspiring way to get this message across lol

regardless of what he says, Aizawa 100% either bribed or threatened Rat Principal behind the scenes in order to stay with his class. and will do so again next year. he can and will keep getting away with it. he is never leaving these kids

and the sheer relief from all of them upon hearing it is all the justification he needs. these kids have four thousand nine hundred and seventeen accumulated traumas among them. they don’t need a four thousand nine hundred and eighteenth. this man is their father ffs. MINA WAS CRYING AND EVERYTHING

Kacchan watched that YouTube video about a dozen times until he managed to tie his tie all on his own with the one hand. and he did an amazing job. he’s such a model citizen now

also it looks to me like he has his right arm hidden in a sling underneath his shirt, which is interesting. if I’m not mistaken (and I very well could be, since it’s been a hot minute since I did any BnHA timeline math), the final battle took place sometime in early May, so this chapter is taking place roughly one month later. the hospital chapter took place about a week after the battle, so it’s been about 3-4 weeks since then. I really want to know what kind of shape Kacchan’s arm is in, but I guess Horikoshi will get to it when he gets to it

also, “we all gotta be together today” was a real wakeup call to me in that it gave me just an absolutely ridiculous amount of feels. just a totally unreasonable amount. and it’s like. listen, self. Kacchan has completed his character growth arc. he’s a team player and a leader who loves all his friends and they all love him in return. we’ve known this for years now. it’s an established fact. you can’t keep bursting into tears or whatever every time he shows it. this is no way to live your life. I need an intervention

anyways later this evening class 2-A is gonna have a celebratory movie night in the common room, and Kacchan is gonna fall asleep two minutes in peacefully surrounded by all his classmates, and they’re all gonna nudge each other and smile fondly and cover him with a blanket and stay up until 2am and Aizawa will have no mercy on them the following morning. it’s gonna be so wholesome you guys

(ETA: I decided to go back and have some more feels about this one tiny Kacchan panel, because apparently the four paragraphs I already wrote about it weren't enough. so the thing is, Sero's wonderment at Katsuki being out of the hospital initially read to me as half bemused awe, and half "oh boy, time to get back into our usual rhythm of antagonizing Kacchan!" but my second time around, I can't help remembering that all of Kacchan's classmates got to watch this kid getting tortured and strangled and stabbed through the heart in 4K. like, even if they were busy with their own fights at the time, there's no way they didn't see the footage later on afterwards.

and that had to have been traumatic for them. their friend literally died and was just lying there so still for so long afterwards. and him getting better and going back to his usual asskicking self later on doesn't just erase those memories, you know? especially with him having lasting, permanent damage afterward. not just his arm, even! like who even knows if his heart is going to be okay long term. when people get organ transplants they have to go on immunosuppressants afterwards because otherwise their body will try to attack the replacement organ. so I wonder how exactly it works when it's still your heart, but it's being held together by various bits and pieces of a spindly little floss man. idk, but I bet you it's still pretty rough.

anyway so long story short, I'm now reading this as one-third bemused awe, one-third joking antagonism, and one-third genuine "no seriously, is it okay for you to be here, please don't do anything to put your health at risk because we seriously cannot handle you dying on us again." and Kacchan's not even disagreeing with him lol, which has to be the most concerning thing of all. "they said it's okay if I rest." even he knows he's pushing it, but it was too important of an occasion to miss. anyway please take it easy kiddo.)

Aoyama leaving makes me sad but it makes total sense for his character after what he’s been through. he needs time to sort things out and continue down his own personal honor-regaining journey. respect

also glad to hear that it was his own choice and that both Rat Principal and Nao would have supported him if he stayed. I still to this day do not understand Naomasa’s actual level of authority lol. like, he’s supposedly a detective, and yet he seems to be personally in charge of every single important police operation, on like a national level. and he has the authority to make decisions like letting Aoyama go free. he is the law, literally

Aoyama trying to feed Deku some farewell cheese also took me out. like he just walked in there and was all “sorry everyone, I’m leaving, but I’ll still aim for the path of a hero and will one day return, don’t you worry!” and at some point in the midst of this tearful speech he made a beeline directly to Izuku and tried to give him some cheese that he apparently just had in his pocket or something. and Izuku was all “YEAH!” all solemnly but HE DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH THAT POCKET CHEESE. like he loves you and accepts you for who you are Yuuga but COME ON

at this point in the chapter it also became clear to me that Aizawa has his hair up in some sort of loosely assembled messy bun and that’s why it looks so especially flowing and gorgeous today. this is great cinema

and then AT LONG LAST, the admission of Shinsou into class 2-A. they tried everything they could to keep him out, BUT NOT EVEN THE END OF THE WORLD COULD STOP HIM. his rightful place

Ojiro’s scandalized response to hearing Fuwa refer to Aizawa as “Era-sen”, and then Fuwa subsequently revealing all of Aizawa’s secrets and Aizawa getting flustered and kicking her out, was one of the most delightful sequences I’ve read. “nooooo don’t tell them that, what the hell am I gonna threaten them with now”

Izuku has not even attempted to crack a smile since the final battle, aside from when he was frantically trying to reassure Kacchan in the hospital. I’m worried about him but also loving this a little bit, ngl. I am content to wait for you to eventually have a proper breakdown, mister Greatest Hero

also I singled him out on the whole not-smiling thing, but really this is true for just about all of them. my heart aches :(

were there really so many people freaking out over Izuku’s hair that Horikoshi felt compelled to throw in that “HEY DEKU-KUN, YOU SHAVED YOUR HAIR LIKE THAT DUE TO AN INJURY, RIGHT? BUT IT’LL GROW BACK, RIGHT!?” line in there lol. the hilarious thing is that this chapter was already in the books before 424 was released, so it means that Horikoshi anticipated the backlash ahead of time. the man knows his audience

and now for this mysterious little barefoot man randomly emerging from some rubble somewhere. who are you. fandom already thinks you’re everyone from Tenko to Hisashi lol. my personal theory is that he’s just a random citizen who’s hurt and traumatized and needs help. and unlike what happened with baby Tenko once upon a time, this young man actually will be helped by a hero in his moment of need, and it’ll be all hopeful and stuff because SOCIETY IS CHANGING FOR THE BETTER NOW HOORAY

or maybe he really is Tenko, idk. what do I know lol. don’t listen to me

lastly, Shouto out here immediately leaving U.A. after class and ruining my dreams of a class 2-A movie night. FINE THEN. GO AND BE WITH YOUR FAMILY my precious little life preserver. and I’m actually really, really excited to see what their endgame is actually, so yes, Horikoshi, bring it on please and thank you

[oneforthemunny]

i hope this isn't crude or anything but just curious because i think i'll need this when i write a fic for your summer game

who's the richest eddie and who's the... not richest?

not crude at all! I’m excited you’re writing for it ahhhh!!!

from highest to lowest:

rockstar!eddie- honestly he invests a lot once he gets with nepo baby and they have a lot of stakeholders in businesses. she does the same but her net worth combined with his and their business plans and own companies just puts them at the top.

mafia!eddie - blood money is money and he’s got a lot of it lol. he’s high up on the pecking order, very high up. and he’s probably very close to rockstar!eddie’s but he just kinda spends it however he wants.

cowboy!eddie - not even in the same tax bracket as the others lol but he has a family ranch, he’s a fucking really good horse trainer so he gets a lot of rich people who want pristine show horses trained and makes good money off that. plus his own competitions and some of that press brings in a little change. the ranch is paid off and so is most everything else that his grandparents left him so he’s pretty well taken care of.

older!eddie- he’s worked really hard and is definitely way better off than he ever thought he would be. he worked hard when brie came around and saved and worked his way up, and besides the set back of the divorce, he’s done really well with his money. comfortable, really. enough to afford a vacation once every few years if he books early in advanced and saves, and enough to not have to worry about making payments on time, but not well off by any means. he’s worked for it.

janitor!eddie- is very close to older!eddie. he’s worked for it, saved for it. not as much just bc he’s not as old, but the two of you try very hard to be smart with your money and make it so you’re comfortable with some extra wiggle room and still can put in savings.

modern!eddie- has a decent amount of cash for his age, but he’s not like rolling in cash. his is drug money but he’s like very close to the bottom of the food chain, just a dealer. so he gets a decent cut, enough to buy silly stupid twenty two year old boy purchases but not enough to go crazy on.

bouncer!eddie- he’s broke but like he’s not worried about it lol. he’s young and he makes good money at the hideout and the landscaping in the summer (yeah I’m hcing he has like other odd ball jobs lol) but he does not save money. at all. not that he’d have a lot to save but he’s like “fuck it I’m gonna buy what I want” lol

[factorialsfandoms]

So the pics may not be done for a lil while because I've literally never draw Time, Twi, or Wars (apparently I can't draw a lot of armour or fur well) so I'll have to look at their ref sheets and practice etc before I start their stuff, but for now have some ideas I did this morning.

Favourite one atm is Time because of the despair but also because I like to imagine he wrapped Hyrule in Sky's sailcloth so no one can see his corpse. Also because I don't wanna draw Hyrule in that specific pose tbh.

Okay, first of all, I love these and thank you so so much for sharing your sketches. Armour and fur tricky but I appreciate you so much. (And also yeah how the fuck do bodies work?!?!?!)

I honestly love the idea that the sailcloth was used to wrap him. I might steal that, if you're good with it? It's not like Legend would have really registered it at the time anyway. It would be such an awful show of love and affection, and I think Sun would understand. At the very least Sky believes she would. It was already a bit bloody from hugging Legend, so... It's probably the one item they'll bother to at least try washing the blood out of, but honestly... Just the idea of it is in my brain and making me a bit sad. They're trying their very best to love him, even if he's dead...

Now to gush about individual little doodles! Top left first, going like reading order. I'll try make it clear. Cut because... words.

Hyrule, Hyrule, poor boy. I know I'm the one who did this to him, but your little sketch is almost painful to look at. The way the one arm is out, almost like he's trying to reach but at the odd angle that looks like it's broken (he certainly couldn't have moved it out after he fell, but it falling to look like he's reaching? To just raise the hand slightly towards Legend? Oh that's heartbreaking and tasty). The other arm over the wound? Almost like he was trying to put pressure on it, to keep the blood inside, but his body is just caved away, there's no way he can? So its just lying in the gore of his wound? That's horrible in such a wonderful way. The mess of his everything - his face, his arms, his clothes, his hair - the massive dip where the bomb stole his flesh. And of course above all else the way his eye is still open and clear, looking out and straight at the person viewing? (At Legend) I can't quite describe it but his whole expression is just... Wonderful. But in a very horrible way. I would like to cup his cheek and somehow take the pain away, but I can't...

Injury map! Those are always fun. You did a real good job at translating what I said into actual physical things. The extent of the damage and everything... I know its probably just a little reference for you, but your choices in mapping it out are... not delightful, because horrifying, but something like that.

Then there is Hyrule and Legend, and /oh/. You may have swapped eyes, but that makes Hyrule look away, which really does hurt something more. Is this just after he died and Legend had just realised? It's make sense, given Wars folded the arm back over him and, well, that's where it is. And the more distant. Its just a scribble, but the awkward angles Hyrule is lying at... And then there's Legend. I can't see his face, I can't see any of him, but he's right there. I can see the tension in his shoulders, and cannot imagine him anything but shaking with sobs, either expressed or held in. The desperation, the way he's still clinging to one of Hyrule's hands... Those poor, poor boys. The both of them.

Then we have Warriors and Wind and Four and... Well, with their backs to us you can see how Warriors is holding them so tight, trying to protect them from the same fate no doubt. Wind's right at the back so it looks like he's trying to press into the hold and get comfort, while Four is trying to stay upright and strong and not need it, but those crossed arms say so much that he does. Warriors staying tall and alert, pressing their two youngest on so they don't have to look, taking point also to ignore his own grief to keep everyone /else/ safe. How tall he is, like he can't bring himself to crack.

And Time, Time, oh Time... I've mentioned the sailcloth thing above, but I still adore it. It's horrifying to use the sailcloth as a shroud, but its probably all they had to hand. Except their blankets, but most of them need those and, well... Hyrule's aren't really the best. And they want something kinder to wrap him in than those. But Time, poor Time, you did really good at displaying the sheer agony at finding the fairies too late, when Hyrule was too far gone for even a clutter of them to save. The way he's grasping his face with the agony, but still using the weight of his body and face to keep Hyrule's corpse safe in his arms, safe as he wishes he had kept him in life. The hand clutching the sailcloth, desperate and so very not okay... I love it so much, but ow... And then the little fairies! Shocked and upset with their little "!"s, desperate to help but there's nothing they can do. Time hunched in on himself, the agony, the pain... Then trying to help but there's simply nothing they can do. Time called for them so desperately, but they arrived too late, and that broke him. Hyrule could not have lived the extra few minutes it took, it just wasn't possible, but if he'd only looked better, been better, fought harder... And he failed his command, and you tied all of it all in so well. Also! Just the side not of the way Hyrule's feet are just... dangling there. Far enough from his chest they're probably bloody, but his boots and his feet one of the few bits entirely intact, and they're all of him you can see...

And then finally, Twi and Wild... Oh, oh this, all of them hurt and it doesn't hurt the most but just... There's not a whole lot to say about Twi. But Wild! The way he's clinging to Twi's hand on his shoulder, surely there to guide him as he's still struggling with the world. His head bowed, utterly despondent... He was saved, but at what cost? his other arm hanging limp, not knowing what to do, just... Walking. Clinging to Twilight and walking. Actually no with Twilight... Such a gentle arm around Wild's shoulder, keeping him from being separated but a quiet comfort all the same. He's grieving too, but for Wild for whom the hit was taken? He's doing his best to protect the scoundrel, just like Wars with Four and Wind, but different now. The two small ones seemed scared and desperately trying to hold it together, but Wild... Wild looks like he's just given up... The only people who look worse are probably Hyrule and Legend, and... Well...We know how that went. We can't see either at the moment in your doodles, but... Horrific times. So bad. And we know why Wild looks so bad! Why they all do! But oh it hurts.

And that brings me to the end of the rambling. I hope the rambles were all okay. May you have a lovely day, and so on and so forth, and my deepest thanks to you.

[tteokdoroki]

assistance please! | e.kirishima.

♡ pairing: eijirou kirishima x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 6.6K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: workplace!au, internship!au, fluff + smut.

♡ summary: eijirou kirishima loved being an intern, he had great co-workers, had a shot at his dream job, his boss had taken quite liking to him and of course, being the favourite intern had many, many perks.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut,  ( kirishima is in his twenties ), power dynamics, sub top!kirishima + power bottom!reader,   heavy!praise kink, heavy!miss + mommy kink, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, kids ), oral ( female receiving ), squirting, tummy bulges, cumplay, creampie.

♡ author’s note(s): hihi everyone!! today i present to you my contribution to the bnharem on the job collab! i had a lot of fun playing with different dyanimics in this fic, i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!! make sure you chek out the other works from the other amazing creators!! <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

“oi! ‘shima! you’re needed in the boss’ office right away, she’s got important business for ya!, wants t’have a word. now.”

eijirou ducks his head politely in a sign of gratitude, thanking his co-worker and superior, keigo— for the heads up. keigo, or better known as hawks around the office ( for his fast speeds in completing work and luring lonely interns into his bed ), was a nice guy— second to the lady in charge and way too chatty. he was a bit of an air head, got the job done when it needed to be but that’s what kirishima was for, the replacement while keigo took his vacation time in the middle of the year like an idiot.

he wasn’t too sure why you kept the blonde around, he supposed it was because he was pretty but eijirou wouldn’t dare question you— he needed this internship if he was going to make it big in the sports news reporting scene. he’d been majoring in sports and healthcare at college, two years away from graduating when the opportunity to work for yn ln, one of the biggest sports journalists in japan had landed right in his lap. of course he was going to take it, of course he was going to do everything he could not to fuck it up.

in the cubicles beside him, the other interns try to muffle their giggles and titters of curious laughter as the red head gathers himself for the meeting.

“oooo, i wonder what you did this time,” kaminari teases from the right, leaning over his side of the cubicle to fiddle with the odd bits on kirishima’s desk. denki kaminari was another person kirishima wondered how the hell he got into the programme, but then again he was pretty to look at and brought a lighter air to boring office days.

“nothing! i’m innocent!” eijirou defends, hands releasing his files to fly up in defence.

the other interns, going by the names of mina ashido, kyouka jirou and hanta sero snicker amongst themselves at the interaction.

“don’t believe it, s’obviously more than nothin’ if you’re always getting called down’ta the boss lady’s office.” bakugou, another intern, grunts out with his nose deep buried in files for upcoming reports. he was a little too rough for the journalism lifestyle but got the job done. his attitude wasn’t for everyone. “they’re probably fuckin’.”

mina giggles and kirishima steps out into the paths between desks. “don’t be such a sourpuss ‘suki, just ‘cause you’re not her favourite.”

a lose ‘shut up’ is huffed, before katsuki turns to face his taller, buffer companion. “just don’t be late, bunch of us are goin’ for lunch later.” he adds and turns back to his paperwork.

“affirmative, catch ya later!”

the group waves the red head off as he heads to the elevator directing him to the main floor— this is where all the higher ups worked. the journey wasn’t unfamiliar to the intern, he wasn’t like the others and had the steps to your office memorised by heart. sometimes it was like walking home, to his comfort and sanctuary away from the stressors of work and the outside world— he knew that was bad, but you were so kind, such a sweet and understanding boss he couldn’t help but develop some level of comfort towards you.

to most, it seemed like eijirou kirishima was just unbelievably close to his boss, that you’d taken him under your wing.

he however, knew what you had, meant more.

a fluttering warmth spreads across the intern’s chest as he approaches the door to your main office and he knocks. behind it lay mountains of secrets upon secrets, things that kirishima knows about you that no one else does. the walls have hidden words, written across them in fonts of passion and admiration and it’s all that he can think about. you’re all that he can think about, and it’s still wrong. there’s a shuffling deep in the room and some flitters of paper here and there before your soft, velveteen voice breaks through the barrier between you. the one thing keeping you apart.

“come in,” you call smoothly and kirishima follows your orders swiftly, if not eagerly, entering the four walls of your office. ruby eyes dart across the room to locate your position and his heart skips a beat when he finds you, body leaning over your dark oak desk, papers scattered across it while you frantically sift through numbers and stocks and nonsense way above the level of a journalism intern. but even amongst the chaos, you’re beautiful— eyes sparkling with productivity, lined in little flecks across the colour of your orbs. the way you dress never fails to steal away eijirou’s breath— a tight fitting leather skirt that hugs your mature curves and a white blouse with the bottoms popped open— just enough for him to get a peek at your cleavage.

the poor intern has to hold himself back from blurring the lines of work and pleasure to shove himself deep into your chest, suck and lick at your plush breasts until he was high off the taste of your skin. but he wouldn’t do that, yet. not without your permission. “oh eiji baby, there you are!” you coo to the red head, bright smile stretching across blood diamond painted lips. you cross the room in three short strides, tall black heels clacking against the smooth white marble until you’re standing in front of and looking up at kirishima. “was starting to think keigo had ditzed like a pretty boy and had forgotten to send you my way, darling.”

eijirou’s cheeks flame at the smoothness in your syrupy voice, like sweet honey to his hears, the pet name striking a familiar heat deep within him. you always had a way with your words— enticing, almost like a siren calling out to him despite the taboo aura that surrounded what you had. whatever it was— he just knew it was more than your typical boss-intern relationship.

“even if he had, ‘m more than happy to be of service to you ma’am,” he responds almost a little too quickly, large hand rubbing the back of his neck and tugging at his baby hairs to ground himself.

you cock your head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “always such a helpful, good boy eijirou,” you hum, lips pulling into a devilish red smile and the praise causing a new spark of lustful electricity to crackle through the air. “i could use a little assistance, please, i have this awful meeting with the board today, spent all night preparing and couldn’t go home, i could use some stress relief,”

kirishima’s gaze becomes hooded as he looks down at you, a familiar and bright desire burning in the pits of his stomach. “oh yeah? sucks that the paperwork kept you up all night ma’am…” he trails off, choosing to let his fingers dance up and down your sides— snaking an arm around your waist to pull you into him. you couldn’t or you wouldn’t go home. he’s not sure if he cares about the answer right now— not when you tremble in his grip, itching for something, anything from him. “how long do you reckon we have ms. ln?”

“ten to fifteen minutes sweetheart, give or take,”

you grin widens, taking an impossibly closer step to your intern— pressing the swell of your breasts against his hard chest. he can feel your nipples pebbling through your blouse, almost visible behind the white fabric and god the way you look up at him— he can no longer wait, he needs you. right here and right now.

“will you be needing my assistance throughout, ma’am?” kirishima asks, voice dropping a few octaves until it falls into a low growl.

“i expect it. you are my intern after all.”

the words laced with deep huskiness, the proximity of your bodies and the rising heat in the room is what leads you both to tumble into the next series of events. before he can’t register it, your mouths are slotted together in a fast paced and sloppy kiss, kirishima’s body manoeuvres you around the office, marking out a familiar pathway to your desk—his tongue remains sliding over yours in rapid movements as he commits your taste to memory, refreshing those from the last time he had you like this. yet every time you kiss and his tongue glides over yours, you taste sweeter than before; like peaches and morning coffee— you feel softer in his grip, every dip and curve to your body like it was built for him.

eijirou can't stop thinking of that last time, tucked away in your office after dark when your dainty hands pawed desperately at his hips to bring him closer or scratched at his back from sheer pleasure— kirishima wants to see you like that against, using his own hands to tear through your shirt and send buttons flying across the room. something in him just wants to do good for you, have you ache for him and earn himself some of your sweet praise. even as you step and stumble towards your work desk, the red-head lets his lips break away from yours, connected by a string of your own saliva before he drops to your neck, lapping tracks over your skin with the temptation to bite down and paint it shades of deep purple and blue.

but there are rules that you both have in place; ways to keep what you have a secret and hidden away from the public eye so that you don’t lose all that you’ve worked for and so kirishima can keep being your precious little intern.

“jump for me, please ma’am,” he whispers heavily into the junction between your neck and your shoulders, breath laboured and warm against your skin that begins to shine with light perspiration. mindlessly, you follow his orders, jumping up while your fingers curl into the mass of red on kirishima’s head and ankles lock around his waist—his hands meet the backs of your doughy thighs, squeezing the flesh between calloused digits while you toe off your heels.

“eiji, you’re so good,” you manage between feather light breaths as they clatter to the floor as the pair of you somehow make your way to the desk chair, pushing and tearing the clothes from one another’s bodies— including your crisp shirt. now seated and left in nothing but your bra, you tug harshly at your intern’s locks and bring his mouth down to yours, allowing them to move together in a dirty, messy kiss. there’s barely any time for you both to mess around, for him to tease you until your limit and you’re crying out for any type of touch from him, so eijirou quickly

flips down your bra, exposing your chest to cool, air conditioned air—not even bothering to unclip the material as his fingers descend on your nipple, pulling and twisting them until your back arches from the stimulation. “hurry, please eijirou,”

obedient as ever, your favourite boy drops to his knees in front of the chair you stay slumped in and with his height, he still manages to tower over you, practically at eye level with hunger framing the ruby of his own. large hands knead at your plush thighs, hiking your skirt up and up to give you room to spread your thighs, cunt growing sticky from anticipation— all from a few measly touches in familiar places. but this is kirishima, and he knows how your body works from countless hours spent after the office closes up— using one another to blow off extra steam. he knows just what makes you tick and moan his name.

logically, eijirou knows that your meeting could start at any minute and even though you’re both in a stickler for time, he still wants to get a taste at your skin before devouring your most intimate parts. he’ll make time to explore every part of you, to assist you in your stress relief. “‘m sorry miss, yn,” he whines needily, watching your chest rise and fall with want, feeling your body heat up and twitch from the ghost of his fingertips across your blemished skin. “gotta have a taste of you before the real deal, hope’ya don’t mind…”

latching onto the left mound of flesh at your exposed chest, kirishima sinks the point of his teeth into the area around your nipple— just enough to graze your skin and pull a sweet mewl from your mouth. you’re both lucky for the soundproof walls, your head thrown back in a lewd moan he lets his pink tongue roll over your bud in vicious circles. heavy, fat globs of saliva pool over the pink muscle, pouring down kirishima’s chin and painting your skin with a slick shine. “h-how...how could i mind angel, not when you treat me s’good,” you heave, vision fading in and out due to the overwhelming amount of pleasure flashing through your body in waves of hotness. “always doin’ so well for me eiji, aren’t you such a good boy?”

“yes ma’am,” the intern confirms with a erogenous slur, pacified and content on his knees for you— sucking, licking and biting at your chest to his heart’s content. “‘m your good boy,” he corrects you, however. eijirou feels most happy when grazing his tongue over the swell of your breasts, watching your face carefully for any twitches of delirium, it lets him know how hot aroused he makes you feel— that knowledge shoots straight to his cock, rock hard in his slacks while the redhead watches his boss writhe in her seat all for his eyes only.

such a dazzling view, and it’s all for fucking him.

your perfectly manicured nails run through red hair, scratching deliciously at his scalp until you’re forcing his head back and pulling kirishima off of your breast with a pop. “as much as i love seeing a pretty boy suck on my tits like a baby, we’re pressed for time angel, gonna need you to speed it up a little,” despite the softness to your face and the sudden evenness to the tone of your voice, the words that you speak to eijirou are vulgar, nasty, and turn him on to his wits end. “want you to eat me out eiji, can you do that for me?”

shaking his head, yes, beautiful claret eyes shining with acquiescence, kirishima wipes the spit from his chin with the back of his hand— like the tainted, dirty intern he is. you sigh down at him salaciously, ready to tear his innocence apart all over again. eijirou was always so willing to please, both in his work and behind closed doors— you would be a fool to not take advantage of that. with brute force, your intern forces your legs apart, eyes rolling back in his skull from the scent of your sex, dripping with your juices right through your underwear and stockings. overexcited, he rips through the flimsy material at your cunt, exposing your panties for him to see.

“you’re so...so wet ms.ln,” kirishima comments observantly, not even bothering to pull your stockings the rest of the way down your legs, instead opting to pull on the whole until it’s wide enough for his mouth to fit. “smell s’good, bet you taste even better,” there’s a patch on the crotch of your panties, darker than the rest of the material from where you leak and without a second thought, the red head instantly surges forward to lick a stripe over it, letting out a choked gripe as the taste of your cream from over the fabric invades his tongue.

you let out a shrill cry, hips jumping up at the first brush of his tongue against your untouched, clothed pussy. you wriggle even as kirishima holds you down, needing the heat of his mouth against you before your meeting starts. but he’s so good, so well trained, reaching up to your hips to yank your panties down in one fluid motion. leaning forward, kirishima savagely buries his face between your doughy thighs, hiking them over his shoulders from beneath the desk. his nose bumps against your clit, swollen from the lack of touch as he greedily inhales your scent once more— without warning, the intern kicks a stripe up the length of your pussy, sucking your juices into his mouth and smiling against your heat.

“d-don’t tease baby, be good for me,” you remind kirishima, your body trembles with anticipation, craving an orgasm to expel the stress of your work days out. the boy between your legs only hums, the sound running straight though cunt and vibrating against it, causing you to gush and spill your arousal out onto the leather seat beneath your cheeks. eijirou feasts on the slick that seeps from your fluttering hole, gliding his tongue up and down your sex, allowing the occasional pressure from his nose to stimulate your bundle of nerves.

the pads of his thighs burn marks into your legs, using them as leverage to pull your heated core further into his mouth, “can’t help it ma’am, y’got such a pretty pussy...s’only right that i worship you…” eijirou breaths right against your puffy folds, eyes trained on the way your hole clenches around nothing. a primal urge flares in his chest, a desire— no, a need— to see you filled with something, any part of him that can make you see stars and fuck you dumb. “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry you jus look s’fucking pretty miss…”

attaching his lips to your clit, the redhead pushes the spit gathered on his tongue right over your sloppy sit, hazy ruby stare watching as his saliva mixes with your juices and slides over your empty hole. he follows the oozing trail with his tongue, lapping it up and spewing it back into your sex until the pink muscle slips past your entrance— slipping inside of you with no prior warnings. your knuckles that grasp the arms of the chair as you’re spoiled between your legs by your top intern, his hands snaking their way around the tops of your thighs to spread your sticky pussy lips apart in order to bring more of you to the cool air of the office.

“you like this don’cha? dirty little boy,” you tease the poor boy, watching as his cheeks flame with embarrassment. “being a naughty little intern between your boss’ thighs all to keep on pleasing  her, keep your position at her company, huh? fuck eiji, you just love miss riding your naughty tongue—ohmygod—“

the way you sound, voice smooth like chocolate over the obscene slurping that fills the thats air heavy with the scent of sex and, makes eijirou’s cock jump up, precum oozing from his tip as he begins to rut against the hard floor beneath your desk. he makes an attempt to respond, but your thighs lock his head in place and his words come out muffled against your core. “mph, luh it, you’re s’sexy, please ma’am—“ he mumbles sordidly against you, practically humping the ground at your feet as you pick on him.

for a brief moment, kirishima pulls away to watch you roll your hips into nothing, hot tears beginning to brew into our hooded eyes from the satisfaction he brings you with every flick and flit of his tongue against where you need him most. written in your eyes is the command to keep going, your hands twistingly sharply in red roots to bring the intern back to your sluice, spasming cunt. so he does as he’s told, shoving his tongue deep inside your ribbed, iron hot walls and dragging tip along them to collect and taste strings of your viscous juices.

biting your lip, you do your best to hold back a voracious howl, bucking your hips feverishly into your intern’s face and staining his cheeks with everything that you have— he thrusts his tongue into you to the pace of your own hips, moaning against your slippery slit until your eyes are rolling. “gonna cum from this eiji, from you eatin’ me out like this...jus need a little more— need your fingers pretty boy,” you can feel the twist of the knot in your lower tummy starting to unravel, signifying your oncoming high, and the room starts to spin while kirishima eats you out with new vigour.

“yeah? miss? you’re gonna cum for me?” the intern practically whines and pulls his tongue from your hear, almost crying as his hips thump against the floor desperate for friction. “wanna see you come undone s’bad, please cum for me, please, please—“ eijirou chants, replacing his tongue with two of his thick digits, watching as your slick cunt stretches around them accommodatingly. he jackhammers them inside of you, grunting lowly underneath the slaps of his palm against the meat of your ass, as he returns to your clit to suckle on it hungrily. his fingers curl instantly in search for the spongy spot inside of you— bearing down hard against it once it’s located.

“oh—hah, right there baby— right fuckin’ there—!” you squeal, only egging him on as white starts to cloud your vision, everything sounds so nasty and wet, while eijirou stimulates both of your pleasure spots. it becomes hard to breath, legs wobbling around his broad shoulders, but your intern doesn’t let up, determined to bring you to cloud nine.

“that’s it ma’am, right there—you’re almost there, can feel you clenching around my fingers...please cum, fuck i want your cum, wanna taste you so bad, cum. cum. cum!” and that’s all it takes, eijirou’s pleading voice between your thick thighs to make the coil inside you snap and for your orgasm to wash over you. you convulse in your chair, nectar gushing freely from your raw and overstimulated cunt, spewing all over the redheads face as he continued to lap at your clit to ride out your high.

but he doesn’t stop there, scissoring his fingers deep within your velvet walls as you continue to cum, making you shake your head and wail from the high levels of ecstasy.

“please eiji—n’more, can’t, no—“

“you can miss, i know you can—fuck you look so pretty when you’re about to squirt for me, please…”

as quickly as your first high ended, another one comes crashing over you in harsh waves— rocking your world as clear liquid floods from your pussy— the sheer force of you squirting, pushing kirishima’s fingers out from your tight, sappy hole. your release hits the floor with a crude slap, both of you moaning loudly almost for the whole world to hear. he doesn’t stop sucking, clearing up your pretty cunt even as you fade in and out of consciousness from pleasure— he stays lapping at you with burning, languid strokes of his tongue between your folds even as you weakly attempt to answer the phone now ringing from your desk.

clearing your throat, you muster up the strength to sound professional over the line before picking up the phone and bringing it towards your ear. “good afternoon, this is yn ln of shinku sports reports, bringing you the latest sporting news, how may i help you?”

‘this is the board, we need to discuss this month's stocks and reports.’

from the corner of your eye, you can see kirishima rise from his place underneath your desk— standing tall over you once more while you converse with the directors on the other end of the phone. as quietly as he can, the redhead tears through the buttons on his shirt in a similar way to you, prior to you fucking and unbuckles his slacks. he pulls down his boxers and pants in one go, revealing his thick, hard girth that stands tall and slaps against his stomach— tip an angry shade of red as precum smears across his lower belly.

you nod into the phone, forgetting that the board can’t see you as kirishima lifts you from the chair and lays you on your back across the desk littered with unread papers. “ah yes, i’ve been expecting a call from you…” you whisper so quietly instead, not caring if they’ve missed what you said. you’re hardly paying attention, choosing to wrap a fist around eijirou’s cock, slickly pumping him to prepare him to take you— he parts your thighs, eyes closing and body shuddering above you while you continue to converse with the board.

spreading the droplets of precum across his slit and iron hot tip, kirishima takes his cock from your grasp— heavily slapping it against your sensitive and swollen clit to see you jolt up the desk. “gonna fuck you so good miss, jus’ be good ‘n stay quiet for me okay?” he says, a whimper catching in the tail end of his words. you nod to him, rushed and way too eager, laying your head back on the hard wood your swimming gaze settles on kirishima as he taps the head of his cock against your hole, teasingly pushing it just past your entrance before withdrawing again.

‘ms. ln, are you still there? we really are pressed for time so we would love to start by discussing interviews for the next issue—‘

you forget that you’re still connected on the line, settling for wriggling impatiently underneath your intern, who’s caramel tinted skin glistens with sweat and his cheeks begin to flush with unadulterated desire— all from watching the way your puffy folds lube up his shaft with every push through them. you can see him losing his resolve, just as sensitive as you since he’s been holding back an orgasm and without the hint of a warning, eijirou’s hips jump forward and drive his cock into the deepest parts of your sex— brushing against your cervix. you gasp out in surprise, finally losing focus and barely manage a more comprehensive response to the board you have waiting on the line. “y-yes!— yes, yes, i’m still here… you may proceed with the meeting.”

he’s big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever had— and you’d seen a lot being a woman of your caliber this high up in the industry...but no one could compare to the way your sweet, doe eyed gentlemanly little intern filled you up, fat cock stretching your walls even with the shallow thrusts into your cunt he gives you to adjust. the weight of his girth sits heavily inside you, twitching as kirishima slides into you easily due to the stickiness lining your gummy walls, breath shaky and uneven as he holds out for you during this time. you can tell the poor boy isn’t going to last long, fingers sinking into your thighs with a harsh grip while he tries to hold himself back.

such a good boy, always waiting for your every command.

‘so we’d like to talk about the main feature for next month’s issue, do you have anyone in mind?’

the monotone voice of the board member is drowned about by kirishima’s shaky breaths above you, his pleading puppy dog eyes while he stills himself inside your spasming, puckered hole— he waits for permission, following orders like a trained pet even though he can hardly stand it, overwhelmed by the flutter of your sex around him and heat from your body despite thrown over the desk. “y-you’re s’warm...god ma’am...need to—need to move,” the redhead huffs weakly in order to keep himself quiet, a line of sweat dotting his brow. “please,”

you sit up on the desk, legs locking around his slender waist to draw him closer, sheathing more of the poor boy inside of you until he’s completely bottomed out and balls deep inside your pretty cunt. he drops his neck to your shoulder, tongue lolling over your salt licked skin before biting down to pacify himself, sharp teeth almost drawing blood while you adjust the cord of the phone. “i was thinking…thinking that we got the hockey player— the oylmpic champion…” your eyes drift to kirishima’s complacent face, giving him a nod to start moving while he sucks another bruise further down his onto your collarbone. “t-touya...touya todoroki—!”

you hiccup but play it off with a cough when kirishima pulls back his hips, so far that his girth completely leaves you, before he drives himself forward with one powerful thrust and fills you right up again. looking down, you see him bulge in your tummy, the line of his girth prominent against your body— slightly dwarfed in kirishima’s arms. you rock your hips, coaxing your intern into your warmth to help him build up a momentum of thrusts.

‘sounds like a good choice, do we have anyone who could interview him? i believe we can have PR set up an interview this week.’

the desk creaks below you, hard wood groaning along with the red head who hides himself in your neck, squeaking pathetically as he moves inside of you— precum smearing along your gummy walls that welcome his hardened shaft. your pussy opens up for eijirou like it’s welcoming him home, still growing used to the pleasure-filled burn and stretch of him pushing in and out of you. the nerves on his head catch amongst your inner ridges, making his toned body shake in ecstasy.

“m-ma’am, feel s’fucking good, so fucking good...” your intern hums against your salty skin mawkishly, large palms dropping to the flesh of your ass— kneading it to bring you closer to his body— cock barely leaving you due to your proximity. with slow strokes, eijirou fills you up, painting you with what leaks from his tip— prodding at your cervix and brushing up against your sweet spot in ways that make sweet nectar dribble from your hole.

your digits curl in his hair once more, the phone slipping from between your neck and creating rustling on your end. “eijirou,” you sigh breathily, humping back his cock while you squeeze around him selfishly, keeping your intern inside of you. “i-i mean eijirou kirishima, he’s an intern— such a… a good one at that…”

a immodest whimper brews in the base of eijirou’s throat, bubbling against his bruised lips  while you shower him with praise, indirect to him, hand snaking up to the back of your neck— tangling in your baby hairs as he pulls you up to a sloppy kiss, slotting your mouths together and running his tongue over yours. “f-fuck mommy, ‘m i your good boy? please tell me yes, fuck, yn— ma’am,”

kirishima’s voice rises in octave as it does devoir and pathos, vulnerability stays written across his handsome features as he succumbs to the mind break the heat of your damp, creamy core as he fucks into you. you throb at his use of mommy, shakily pulling the phone away from your ear to reach up to his own, nipping the earlobe and tugging on it gently. “you’re my good boy baby, keep being good eiji, be quiet...you gotta stay quiet if you want to keep fucking mommy okay? you wanna cum inside me right?” you say, words aberrant and low toned  on your tongue, your intern hisses and whines in response— nodding his head again and letting out a barely coherent ‘yes’. “then shh, baby, let mommy talk yeah?”

“hm’kay,” he babbles, dropping his ruby framed gaze to where your bodies meet, hiking your skirt further up your thighs to get a better view of your cunt staining his heavy balls with a layer of your slick.

‘ms. ln, are you sure that you want an intern to cover this case—’ the board begins to ask you, muffled from the distance away from you both.

picking up the phone again, you pull the line towards you again— mindful of capturing eijirou’s weak little mewls over the device as he languidly pumps himself in and out of you. “i know what i—fuck, what i want. eijirou, will be—oh— on the case. that's final.” you huff, watching your intern fall into a pussyhaze, his precious mind fogging with thoughts of only painting you white inside and out as a reward for helping relieve you of stress. the slow roll of his hips into yours are accompanied by the soft slaps of his skin against your own, wet and sticky— determination to make you feel good crackling across his mind.

‘there’s no need to curse, ma’am, do you need a moment to recollect yourself before we proceed with discussing the other features.’

“i’m fucking fine,” you growl, in anger or need you don’t know. but kirishima frowns, you can feel it as he start nosing up your cheek— swiping his tongue over areas of skin he hasn’t touched just yet— he grunts possessively , unhappy with the use of your title coming from anyone other than him. to prove his point, he pushes your thighs wider apart, letting you drip all over the documents sitting below your ass and ruining the ink— important or not he starts a brutal pace into your cunt and presses down on your tummy so you can feel exactly where eijirou is inside you and know that only he can make you feel this way.

‘ms.ln—‘

“i’m fine. keep going.” you grit your teeth, biting your lip to hold down your panting— again you don’t know who you’re speaking to. your intern who slows the movement of his hips, postponing in and out of your tightened hole, clamping down on him eagerly or the stupid board member giving you grief on the phone.

they proceed to talk, barking out suggestions to your sports magazine, that you hate— even considering bringing in good for nothing athletes who’d treated you like shit in the past, and you’d sworn to never work for them again.

but it’s almost silly, how kirishima lets out small moans of mommy and ma’am, trying to keep your attention on him like you would give up grinding down on your intern’s dick for some prissy member of the board over the phone— but you love the slight possession eijirou has over you, moulding your iron hot walls into the shape of his fat dick that presses up against your pleasure spots, makes you convulse and drawl and become addicted to everything that is him. eijirou kirishima.

“takin’ me so good, so well ma’am...don’t think i can hold on anymore…please,” eijirou warns you, losing control of his body as he takes you for his own like he’s done many times before after hours— your gazes lock, you can see his desperation to ruin you, moan for you despite the people on the phone and the people outside your office.

if he grows too loud, he could give you away— they could be listening in to your poor needy little intern humping you like a feral dog and whining your name. and as much as that thought makes your hole spasm around his fat cock, make his thrusts stutter and eyes screw shut while you moan in sweet, almost silent harmony, you love your job and so weakly, you take two of your fingers, shoving them deep into eijirou’s mouth as it hangs open in heavy pants of warm air. you press down on his wet tongue, fucking into his mouth in tune with the pace of his hips plunging deep within your walls, churning up your syrupy and sticky insides.

“keep quiet, baby,”  you hiss to the redhead, who’s eyes start to brim with fresh hot tears from the overwhelming pleasure. “let mommy take care of this, yeah? finish up so you can let it all out on me.”

he sucks on your fingers to calm himself down, shallow breathing while he paws at the flesh on your sides and circles his hips into yours— letting his leaky tip bare down on your sweet spot and forcing the air out of your body. white hot pleasure flashes through your bloodstream, replacing any air of professionalism flooding through them. you can’t, you physically cannot hold back either of your orgasms— you can’t concentrate as your mind starts to fall away with the world and your gaze hones in on the way kirishima takes your fingers in his hot mouth so deep in an attempt to hush himself.

the coil in your tummy begins to unwind and the room swims once more. ‘ms.ln is everything okay over there— we need to progress with his meeting if we’re—‘ the annoying board member sounds underneath kirishima’s sloppy groans, saliva dribbling down the sides of his mouth. your dirty, good boy.

“i’m going to need to take a rain—hah— a rain check on this meeting. you’ll hear from me when my interns and i are ready—“ you huff, cutting the staff off and quickly throwing the phone onto the hook, you’ll have keigo deal with the consequences later but for now you focus on kirishima who picks you up by the ass, lifting you up and down on his cock in frantic movements as he finally loses all connections to his control. “ohmygod—eiji baby, slow—fuck, down—“

he shakes his head, latching onto your collar bone as he revels in the way you leak down his shaft and drip between his balls, lewd squelching sounds fluttering through the air hot, sex scented air at full volume. “‘m sorry ma’am— i can’t… i’m really close, i really need’ta cum...please ma’am...mommy, i’ve been good—please let me cum...“ eijirou groans heartily, from deep in his chest as if he’s finally releasing what he’s been holding back— arms flexing and the sweat from his body slicking up your own.

limbs shaking you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your foreheads against one another, while you nod. he worked so hard to make you feel good, all day long to do the best job that he can— pressing small kisses to his lips encouragingly. “you can do it baby, one last thing for me— fill me up eiji, cum for me.” you whisper between bites and sucks on his lower lip, lined with a vibrant shade of red.

“cummin’, cummin’...miss yn, mommy—!” and then his hips come to a halt, his dick pulsing as waves of his cream line your insides with an opaque white, thick and seeping down your thighs. his fingers drop to your sensitive cunt, slipping quick circles over your swollen clit to bring you to your high. his cock never stops pumping in and out of you, pushing his seed further into your sex while you writhe and fall over the edge into your orgasm— gushing so hard you force him out of plugged and full hole.

losing his strength, kirishima collapses on top of you, pressing out both to the hard wood seat which you’re surprised  is still standing, his lips pressing fleeting kisses across your face and neck while you both come back down to earth.

and then he looks up at you with a weak smile, “did i do good?” he asks you lazily and almost sleepily— refusing to budge from laying atop you and almost crushing you with his weight.

pushing back his hair to soothe him. “always eiji, you’re not my favourite intern for nothing,” you coo at him, pulling him up to press your lips to him in a soft kiss.

“i sure hope you don’t have any other favourites, i want to be the only one who assists you like this,” kirishima says, remaining tangled with you for a moment more in your office, content with snuggling into your exposed and bruised side.

you share a sleepy giggle, intending to clean up later— eijirou completely forgetting about the lunch he’d promised the other interns after your meeting.

oh well, assisting you was a much better treat than spending time with any one else.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

this is a continuation of the other one

Y/N stares at him for a long moment, arms crossed and poking her tongue into her cheek. “Why do I feel like I'm Ariel and you’re the sea witch trying to get me to sing into a shell?”

Harry blinks once. “Sorry, what?”

“Oh, right, that was—that was ‘89, wasn’t it?” Y/N bites back a laugh at the scowl that rolls over Harry’s expression. “After your time, I suppose.”

But Y/N isn’t laughing when she has to spend the next two weeks braless. And although she spends the first day being petty under Harry’s keen eye, by the third day, she’s turned the predicament around in her favor.

“Hey, Harry.” She says one night, stirring her pot of pasta on the stove as she sips her eleven dollar wine. “I have a question about our arrangement.”

Harry, who has been leaning over the counter to soak in the aromas of the food that he longs to taste (and also to get a look at Y/N’s cleavage in the v-neck t-shirt she’s wearing), cocks his head to the side and clicks his tongue. “If you're trying to reduce your sentence, don’t even try it.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Y/N murmurs, trailing her lip around the rim of her wine glass as she leans against the counter. “I was just wondering if it has to be only braless with a shirt on top, or if I could wear just a bra or bralette.”

Harry blinks once, his mouth falling open in surprise. “I—what?”

“Like, I have this little cotton Calvin Klein bralette, and it’s super comfy, and still gives me some support, but my cleavage and such is still decently on display.” Y/N clarifies with a smug grin, setting down her glass against the fake marble counter as she stretches to reach the spice cabinet. “I think that could fulfill our agreement, no? You know what bralette I’m talking about, right? You’ve probably seen it when you’ve been snooping around.”

Harry looks at her carefully, trying to catch the trick behind her all-too generous offer. He replies in a measured tone, leaning against the fridge as his eyes glue to the way her chest heaves as she teeters forwards on her tiptoes to grab a condiment. “I know the one, yes. Peachy pink, right? With a thick band and slightly ruffled fabric at the center?”

“That’s the one, yup.” Y/N pops the last letter of the word, wiggling her fingers to try and grab the oregano from the highest shelf. “It’s a nice number, I think, and going around braless for so long does my back in sometimes.”

Harry pushes off the barrier he’s using as support, drifting towards Y/N as she stands before her cupboards, one hand propped against the counter to boost herself up as the other fishes for the small container a few inches from the tips of her fingers. He stops right beside her, looking down at her with that same calculating gaze he had across the room. He’s still trying to sus out her angle, but little does he know that what she’s trying to implement is going to work out for both of them.

She’s grown quite fond of the extra attention he’s been giving her, and for some odd reason, she feels a deep sense of pleasure every time she catches him staring at her chest. Maybe it’s the way his eyes glint longingly as he ogles, or the way he’ll chew into his cheek or along his bottom lip or into the side of his finger as he follows the outline of her cleavage, or maybe it’s that when she catches him gawking, he’ll hold intense eye contact with her for a second before casting his gaze away to some other unimportant object.

Maybe it was that one time yesterday where she’d managed to pull an actual reaction out of him. They had been watching a rerun of a Scooby Doo movie, and she could feel his ghastly eyes pinned to her bust, probably because she had lied down on her stomach across her sectional sofa as he had sat on the floor in front of it, so when he turned his head, her chest had been less than a foot away. And as if that wasn’t enough, she had purposefully flushed it against the couch cushion below to make it seem extra plump and appealing, which would have knocked the air from Harry’s lungs if he still had them.

He’d released a soft whimper so broken and needy, Y/N had to fight off a conceited grin to avoid letting him know she was doing this to him with actual intention. She’d pretended not to hear it, but she had allowed herself to indulge the flare of satisfaction that rose from watching him shift his sitting position a bit, as if something were growing heavy between his thighs. His actions had vaguely made her wonder if ghosts could even feel arousal, and if they could, she hoped he was. It was the perfect revenge, because she at least knows that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Not with anyone else, at least.

Y/N watches as Harry reaches an arm up, easily reaching the bottle she’s attempting to retrieve. He swipes his hand across the container, the motion managing to knock it off the shelf and into her awaiting palm. She’s learned that in order to touch objects, he has to put in quite a bit of energy and concentration to succeed in breaking through the dimensional barrier that separates the living from the dead. Garnering the slightest contact can sometimes drain him a great deal, so when he does make it his mission to touch something, he does it with as little impact as possible to save his energy for later, in case he wants to grab something for an extended period of time, or grasp a heavier weight that would require more exertion.  

“Thanks.” She smiles up at him innocently, blinking her lashes with a slightly sultry air as she closes the cupboard slowly.

Harry swallows heavily, glimpsing down at where her chest is still heaving from when she’d made a grand effort to collect the ingredient she needed. He hates how his little cheeky plan had recently become the bane of his undead existence, given that Y/N had recently begun using it to her advantage. But he can’t complain, because he’s getting exactly what he asked for. He just wishes he could get more.

His voice comes out low and strained as his eyes coast back up to meet her own, which are dancing with smug amusement. “You’re welcome.”

“So what do you say?” Y/N asks, uncapping the spice and sprinkling a liberal amount into her sauce. “Think we could tweak our deal?”

Harry pulls himself back onto the counter, tapping his fingers against the surface without making a sound. “I suppose.” He replies after a moment, eyes flickering to Y/N’s chest once more as she leans down to taste the sauce. “The bralette should be fine, as long as it’s not too padded.” He shoots her a cheeky grin. “I like a bit of nipple, you know that.”

“You’re gross.” Y/N scoffs, shaking her head as she sets down the wooden spoon on the stove. “I'm gonna go change, then. Watch this for me, will you?”

And Harry does rather diligently, inhaling the flavorful aromas rising from the stove. He wishes, for the billionth time in his thirty odd years of death, that he could taste food. He knows he doesn’t need it, but even just having its essence pass over his tongue would be enough for him. He misses pasta, he thinks, staring longingly at the noodles boiling away on the stove. And pizza, and fish, and steak, cooked perfectly with a delicious side of mashed potatoes and gravy, just pink enough in the middle that it’s still tender—

“You didn’t burn down the kitchen. Good job!” Y/N’s voice calls from behind, and the ghost turns around with a retort on his lips that quickly falls away once he sees her.

She’s put on the bralette just as she said she would, and it’s everything he’s ever dreamed of. The cotton is thin enough that he can see the clear outline of what he wants through the article, and the halter neckline lands low enough that he can see every dip and curve of her breasts. A band of her stomach is exposed beneath the labeled elastic lining the bottom of the fabric, and the soft skin seems to call to Harry, making him desperate to touch it. Y/N’s decided to swap her sweatpants as well, it seems, as she’s now dressed in a loose pair of heather grey shorts that sit above her belly button and barely cover the curve of her ass. The loose legs flutter up with her every movement, and if she were about to bend over just a smidge, he could—

“How’s this?” The girl asks, flicking her loose hair over her shoulder with a simper. “Does it meet the requirements?”

Harry clears his throat, his words coming out as a pained groan. “God, you’re a fucking bitch, you know that?”

Y/N sputters into a round of airy laughter, coming to stand before him with her hands perched on her hips. Her tone is innocent, but her true intentions are written clear across her face, obvious in the way her lips twitch with evil delight. “How so? I’m abiding to our terms!”

“You’re giving me the world’s worst case of blue-balls, is what you’re doing.” Harry bites back, his sharp jaw clenching and full lips pressing into a bothered grimace. “And you’re doing it on fucking purpose.”  

“You made your casket, now lie in it.” Y/N states brightly, shrugging her brows with finality.

“Harsh.” Harry mumbles, but he can’t fight off the amused grin that tweaks his dimples into place.  

Harry slips off the counter again onto his feet, not being able to stay still. There’s a peculiar buzzing sensation coursing through each of his ghostly limbs, and anytime he stays put, it intensifies to the point where he feels like he’s going to explode into a shower of static.

He saunters up behind Y/N, looking over her shoulder as she regains her previous activity of mixing the contents in the pot while they simmer their way to completion. Despite not being able to touch her, he can still smell her just fine, and her homey scent of chamomile and jasmine are ever welcomed. She just smells so much like a girl, for a lack of a better explanation, and Harry hasn’t been this close to one his own age since before he passed. It’s driving him to the brink.

“I’d give you a taste if I could.” Y/N's soft, teasing voice echoes against his ears as she cranes her neck to look at him. “It’s a family recipe.”

“Yeah...” Harry locks eyes with her for a moment, and his hand instinctively reaches down to grasp at her waist. Instead of being met with the warm sturdiness of what he knows would be her silky skin, he’s met with the typical icy fizzing sensation that constantly haunts him whenever he tries to make contact with a living being. His digits pass right through her hip, though she barely seems to notice, the only palpable indication of his attempt being a cold breeze wafting across her flesh.

He knows it’s something that is extremely easy to brush off, usually as a simple draft from the air conditioning, given the similarities between the two experiences. And that’s exactly what she appears to do as she gives a light, dismissive shiver, not paying it any mind.

The ghost tries his best to keep his disappointment from registering in his mood, and his tone instead fills with an unreadable emptiness that only he can truly interpret. Below it lies a double meaning, and it has to do with way more than just the general desire to be able to experience the taste of good again; it holds a certain longing that pertains to a deeper type of hunger, but again, only he can truly decipher it. “Yeah, I can only dream of it.”

[characteroulette]

okay okay okay okay

now that I’ve finished DGS1 and can think of nothing else, let me elabourate on what I’ve been ranting about to Verse and my sister (thanks for putting up with me hahaha)

(spoilers for all of DGS1 by the by we going HARD)

So the overarching theme of DGS1 is Trust. How it’s built up, who deserves it, how to extend your hand to those who may not deserve it, and how to build it back up when it’s been broken. Each case builds on this as Ryuunosuke goes on his journey and I think it’s handled really, really well

Case 1, Asougi teaches you the basics of Trust. He tells you that he will trust you and follow you until the end. Twice, right at the beginning of the trial, he tells you that your actions are betraying his trust, even though Ryuunosuke thinks he’s doing it to spare his friend the pain.

(like, seriously, Asougi pretty much says “How sad. You don’t trust that I actually believe in you.” and then “You would throw that trust right back in my face by just accepting a Guilty verdict, huh?” it’s really explicit) (which is probs the only reason why I noticed it hahaha)

But as the trial goes on, Asougi’s unwavering belief in Ryuunosuke helps our protag boy believe in himself. And he trusts Asougi easily due to their close friendship, but you see the shift from “there’s no way I’m gonna be able to prove my innocence” to “I can’t do anything except prove my innocence” as the trial goes on, just because Asougi never stops believing in Ryuunosuke.

And then Case 2 hits and you have to learn to trust others who might seem like enemies at first. This chapter’s mostly for Susato’s growth, because she starts off absolutely not trusting you, but as you hang out and investigate together she just naturally slots into your little sister role and, before she even realises it, she’s trusting Ryuunosuke and working hard to help him prove his innocence. She admits in the end that she should never have doubted you, but you can tell this experience made a deep impression on her, as her trust in Ryuunosuke never wavers and I think that’s beautiful. ;w;

Next is Hosonaga! An odd addition, but he places his trust in Ryuunosuke pretty immediately and easily, showing just how much of an impact Asougi and Ryuunosuke’s relationship made on him during Case 1. The fact that he places any trust in Ryuunosuke at all is enough to bolster Ryuunosuke’s resolve, since Ryuunosuke needed to not be so alone while grieving for his best friend’s death on top of having to prove his innocence. (The whole of DGS1 handles grief really well, I think also, but that’s another essay I’ll have to write.)

And then the disaster man himself, Sherlock. (/Herlock) He’s the reason why Ryuunosuke’s been arrested again and it’s very, very hard to trust this man. I think they did a really good job of making his personality abrasive enough to be just exasperating enough that you can’t take him seriously, but also for you to feel fondness towards his dumb ass. (The perfect AA balance, honestly.) Sherlock is a hard nut to crack, appearing as if he never truly suspected you of any wrongdoing to begin with (it’s his whimsical nature that does it), but you really get a sense of how easily he builds up a rapport with Ryuunosuke from their first whole conversation.

Once you engage in your first Dance of Deduction with Sherlock, that’s it. You’re his friend now. And he basically is just treating you as such from then on, no hesitations on letting you out of your shackles and mischievously putting you right back in them once you’ve finished. Sherlock has seen your character and trusts you, even if he won’t say so outright.

(That one line really hits me, where he basically admits that he was treating this as a game and not fully realising how deeply the whole event has hit Ryuunosuke and Susato. Asougi was their friend, and his admitting that all of his mischief and jokes weren’t ever quite appropriate, given the circumstances, is touching and the actual moment, I think, where Ryuunosuke starts placing his trust in Sherlock in return.)

Case 3 is the big one. Ryuunosuke is sent to defend a man whom he’s not even sure is innocent. The trial goes along and you, the player, can do nothing even if you know what’s really happening. All you can do is trust that Ryuunosuke can handle things and it’s a huge, HUGE step for them to take to have your client mislead you like this. And so successfully!

But the damage is done and Ryuunosuke’s trust in his resolve, his friend’s belief, is broken. Not shattered, thankfully, but broken enough to make Ryuunosuke hesitant to place his trust in anyone again.

Unfortunately, Case 4 comes barrelling out the gate and you’re called upon to place your trust in someone yet again. Ryuunosuke is clearly not ready for it, his narration makes it clear, but you as the player ask Ryuunosuke to trust in you. He goes along and investigates despite being unsure, which as Susato points out (I think it was Susato), he’d made his mind up long before actually taking on the case.

This is also! Where we get to see that, despite all the airs and pretences Barok van Zieks puts on, he’s willing to place more trust in Ryuunosuke than he rightly should. Once Ryuunosuke has the truth in his sights, Van Zieks allows him to continue on his fancies. Van Zieks willingly engages him in discussions and helps iron out all the logic along the way. And though Ryuunosuke doesn’t realise it fully himself, he also starts to trust Van Zieks in return, thinking of him not as an opponent so much as a colleague. Maybe even a friend.

(All I can say is that it’s 1-3 Edgeworth all over again and I LIVE for this shit owo)

Since the truth is secured, along with your client’s innocence, Ryuunosuke’s willingness to trust has been mended somewhat. So we next turn to our client of Case 5, who needs to learn the same lesson after similar events have broken her ability to trust. Gina makes for an interesting parallel to Ryuunosuke in this regard, since they experience a whole slew of terrible events that test their ability to trust. The difference is simply that Ryuunosuke was willing to have friends, to keep trusting others, whereas Gina refused to have friends or place any trust in others even though she desperately wanted to.

That conversation she, Susato, and Ryuunosuke have about it at her cell is really good. The one they have during their night together at Sherlock’s attic is great, too! Iris admitting that she does have her own doubts and Gina, through no benefit of her own, going to confirm on Iris’ behalf because maybe this Sherlock person could be trustworthy after all. Ryuunosuke admitting that he had doubts about Asougi’s trust in him, but as the trial progressed, finding that it was an unwavering belief that Asougi placed in him and how it stopped even being a question in his mind.

Because, to place your trust in someone else, you must first trust yourself.

(shit I forgot to mention) This is a big breaking point for Susato, too! Because she loses her trust in the Law after both Case 3 and Case 4. She’s seen what the London courts will do and realises that, if others are going to play dirty, then it might be better to engage right back. But her unwavering faith in Ryuunosuke helps her realise that what she’s done is wrong and, though her faith in the legal system has taken a big hit, she knows that Ryuunosuke won’t give up the fight. Ryuunosuke will do everything he can to help his clients and she believes in him whole-heartedly.

And Van Zieks sees this, too! He sees this fierce dragon before him, fighting even the government of Britain to protect his client, and thinks to himself, “This is exactly what our system has been needing.” And he joins in the fight! The police hold no authority in the courts; to Van Zieks, it is just him and Ryuunosuke, figuring out the whole truth, no matter how painful it may be.

And Ryuunosuke takes this trust with him all the way through, even getting his permission to participate in trials revoked in order to save Gina.

And that’s why Ryuunosuke is probably the greatest lawyer next to Apollo in the whole series thanks for coming to my essay talk

[sluttbuttsstuff]

Not to spam you but…

Yandere la squada and a darling that’s a little pant-y mess on the occasion that she masturbates and knows a member of the team is home, but upon thinking she’s alone (unaware of her stalker) is masturbating REALLY FUCKING LOUD 🥺 👉👈 sorry if it’s too filthy but this thought will not let me know peace

I do NOT know how to write short pieces; sorry, but that's just not the kind of writer i am. That being said, i had a lot of fun with this, so thanks for the request!

WARNINGS: afab femme reader, Not sfw, dub/con, but reader strongly implied to be okay with everything, voyeurism, sex toys, fingering, blow jobs, intercourse, etc.

Why is it so hard to get some alone time?!...okay, when you’re living with 9 other men, it shouldn’t really come as a surprise to you, but STILL! Well, at least you were able to release some tension, late at night when everyone was too asleep to barge into your room to ask you for something, but you had to stay quiet. God forbid anyone hear the noises you make, so you had to get yourself off quickly and efficiently, without getting to really enjoy yourself. So when this week’s meeting left you free for a day at the base ALONE (even Risotto himself had to be out for a mission, which was rare) you intended to take advantage of it to the fullest.

First: You sang all your favorite songs at the top of your lungs, without fear of anyone hearing you go out of key, or judging you for your taste in music. Then, You took an extra long shower AND bubble bath, effectively using up all the hot water and pampering your skin and hair-which you never had time to when you had to share the bathroom with all the other members. You ate a ton of junk food and ordered delivery all for yourself, and watched all the shows and movies you didn't have the time to before because Formaggio would watch sports games all day.

Finally, you figured now was as good a time as any to....”relax your body”. You were so excited, it had been so long since you’d taken the time to really explore your body while you rubbed one out. You got undresses, rubbing your smooth, moisturized legs together while you turned on one of your favorite pornos on your laptop. You mimicked the motions onscreen, rubbing your neck, your chest, stomach, and finally the lower lips of your pussy. You were already warm and tingling with anticipation, and it didn’t take long for you to get into it. You let yourself moan freely, not saying anything in particular as you clenched around your fingers, lubing yourself up for your toys that were waiting to be used again.

Eventually, the porn ended, but you were just getting started, rocking yourself on your favorite dildo, circling a vibe around your clit and pinching your nipples. It was intense but slow, pleasure raising and declining like gentle hills you rode out. Still, you held off your orgasm for as long as possible, you were having so much fun you didn’t want it to end. You were so invested in the pleasure you were feeling, the rest of the world went away, you didn't even notice the crash of your laptop off the bed.

You were close now, like it or not, so you pushed your body faster and harder than you had in ages, despite the cramps in your wrist and hips. You couldn’t stop your body now, wailing out, tears streaming down your face as you begged yourself for release. Almost there, almost-!!!!

Formaggio: Of course Formaggio was able to finish his hit early- he’s good at his job and doesn’t like carrying things out needlessly! Besides, his favorite team’s playing tonight, he has to hurry home before Prosciutto claims the TV again for an old movie marathon, ughhh. He calls out to you when he arrives home, since he knows you were off this week, but didn’t hear you greet him. You must now have heard him, either, or you wouldn’t be making noises like that. Formaggio cackles to himself-of course you’re getting off, he does the same when he gets the day off too. He likes to do something more exciting than usual though, like leave his door open, or do it in someone else’s room. Yours, for example.

Stifling his own laughter, he uses his stealth skills to sneak into your room. You’re so out of it, you don’t even notice when he opens the door, or your overturned laptop at the foot of your bed. It’s pretty hot, actually, you’re usually more tight-lipped than this, refusing his advances and keeping to yourself when not at work. He likes this side of you a lot more; hair messy, gleaming with sweat, and moaning like a porn star. Yeah baby, let it all out! Formaggio knows he probably shouldn’t, that you’ll kill him afterwards, but Formaggio isn’t exactly a good guy per se so he forces himself on you and grabs the dildo from your hands. You gasp and make an odd, half-choking noise, shocked at Formaggio’s presence and trying to stop moaning in front of him while he fucks you on your toy at double speed.

“Yo, y/n, had a good day today without the guys around? IT’s about to be a lot better, now that I'm here~ why don’t you let me have a turn making you feel good? I’m sure you’re tired from doing this all yourself.” Formaggio teases you, as you struggle to find the words and hide the noises. Finally, you roll your eyes and give up; if Formaggio really wants to help you out so badly, then you’re gonna put him to work. The two of you end up fucking for the rest of the aftenoon and evening, until Proscuitto bangs on your door to keep it down, and even then you have another round or two while giggling.

The two of you are exhausted, but sated, afterwards, and you convince Formaggio to make a run to the fridge to pull out your leftovers, on the condition you share them with him. You spend the rest of the night eating in bed, watching Formaggio’s beloved game on your laptop, and falling asleep. It's an almost perfect end to your day, except for the fact that Formaggio snores louder than a chainsaw.

Illusio: unfortunately, this is not the first time Illusio’s heard (or seen) you masturbate, try as you might to hide it. With a stand like his, you know he not only has the means, but desire to snoop on others. Hell, half the time he doesn’t even mean to spy on others, he just forgets about other’s privacy when he’s in his mirror world. This is, however, the first time you’ve been so vocal, presumably because everyone’s supposed to be out right now. Poor girl, it must be hard to take care of your needs when you’ve got to stare at him all day. He’d be pretty flustered too, with his long chocolate locks and well-toned muscles. Illusio pities you, so he decides he’ll give you the help you clearly need. Jumping from the mirror in the hallway to the one in your bedroom (See? You don’t even cover it up, of course you want him to ravish you!) he watches and listens for a minute at the raunchy display before him. Despite you clearly doing this for quite awhile, judging from the sheen of sweat and heavy breathing, your movements were steady and rhythmic, almost like you’d been edging yourself for a long time. How cute. You must have wanted him to finish the job for you. You’re being very loud however, which Illusio likes, but you’re not saying what he wants to hear. So, he slinks over to you like a ghost, and puts his hand over your mouth to stop you from screaming.

“As much as I love coming home to hear you pleasuring yourself, I think we can do a little better than this. And also-” He kisses the side of your shocked face, “If you’re going to scream something, scream my name.” He picks up where you left off, edging you again and again until you’re so desperate that you beg him to fuck you, and say all the pretty words he wants you to. He fucks you so good you squirt when you come, and makes you come again after he finishes inside of you. It takes you a minute or two to recover, but when you do, and Illusio is bragging about what he did to you, you chase him out of your room with a pillow for being an annoying cocky bastard.

Prosciutto:

Hmmm, well, this is a bit awkward. He knows what the noises mean the minute he first hears them, but isn’t sure how to approach this without embarrassing both of them. If it had been one of the other men, he’d have just slammed their door until they shut up so he didn’t have to listen to their tug session, but Prosciutto prided himself on being a gentleman, and didn’t want to embarrass a lady if he didn’t have to.

He waited about 5 or so minutes, hoping you would wrap up, but when you only got louder and louder he decided enough was enough. After all, god forbid one of the other men hear you-like Illusio or Formaggio. So, steeling himself, he coughed loudly and knocked on your door. You must not have heard him, as your moaning didn’t stop, you were clearly enjoying yourself too much to notice or care about the other men in the base.

Prosciutto huffed, almost offended. Is this what he gets for trying to be polite? Jerking off loudly like a common whore where anyone could walk into you? He tried the doorknob, and was almost disappointed you were careless enough to leave it unlocked. Really, this was all your fault, so when your noises of pleasure turned to shock and embarrassment, he merely chided you for your carelessness, forcing his tongue into your mouth to shut you up while he took over. He took control and instructed you how to properly touch yourself, as well as jerk him off in appreciation for the self-love lesson. He decides to leave it there for the night, as motivation for a reward the next time you’re home alone. So you better work hard on your next missions if you want him to properly fuck you, got it?

Pesci:

Pesci was grateful Prosciutto was willing to finish up the job for him, since it meant he got to go home early. Heck, maybe he could even get a chance to watch one of his documentaries before Formaggio came home and the game started. However, he was growing increasingly concerned about the noises coming from your room. He didn’t want to pry or anything, but you sounded...almost in pain. Sometimes you worked out or did yoga though, and Pesci thought that’s what you were working on, so he decided to leave you be.

However, upon hearing a loud crash, followed by a particularly pained groan, he thought it was best to check in on you. He knocked on your door frantically, but you were unable to answer it. Oh no, maybe you’d hurt yourself so badly you couldn’t even move! Determined to help you, he opened the door, only to see you writhing on the bed, nude and in the midst of an intense self-love session.

Pesci’s mouth opened, and closed, but unlike you, he couldn’t make a sound at the sight before him. It’s true, he harbored a small crush on you, but he had hope he would see you like this under better circumstances. He wasn’t sure what to do, he knew the right thing was to close the door and pretend like this never happened, but you seemed desperately in need of help, not to mention Pesci’s pants were tented with his own sudden but no less intense arousal.

Thinking back to advice Prosciutto had given him about manning up and taking what he wanted from life, he creeps up to your still unaware body, crouching onto your bed with a squeak of the bed springs. This is enough to break you from your trance, and you jolt up, looking at Pesci in shock and embarrassment. Pesci shushes you before you can say a word, pushing a trembling, clammy finger to your lips.

“Please...Let me help you y/n,” He begs you, looking you in the eyes with more courage and bravery than you’d seen from the man since you first met him. Still wet and horny, and body growing tired, you lick his finger, earning an adorable squeak from Pesci; this is going much better than he thought it would. You pull him on top of you, and show him what to do.

What Pesci lacks in experience he makes up for in quick-learning and a massive cock with a short refractory period. You move his hands for him across your body, bringing yourself to climax finally, and return the favor with a blowjob. Pesci doesn’t last long, but he’s hard again very quickly, which you decide to use to your advantage. You ride him again and again, Pesci doing everything you tell him to, and making sure you come as many times as he does. He comes everywhere, inside you and out and on your chest, and makes quite the mess of you.

IT doesn’t stop him from pulling you into a passionate kiss and spooning when you’re both sated, mumbling his thanks and sweet compliments about you. You end up sleeping together that night, and in the morning the men tease him half to death about it, but you can tell Prosciutto's proud of him.

Melone:

Oh, he’s been WAITING for this day since you first joined the team, and now that it’s finally happening he can hardly believe it’s real. First he Manages to reactivate the babyface from today’s mission to grab his camera and record everything. Then, he grabs his chest of toys from his room to help you out. He has a hard time not just jumping in and screwing you into your mattress, but like everything in Melone’s life, he has a plan for this, and he intends to follow through with it. After getting a minute or two of just your moans recorded (just in case his “mission” is unsuccessful, at least he’ll have fap material for later, he decides to make himself known.

“You know, y/n, your arm’s are going to get worn out like that before you’re able to climax if you keep this up.” Melone chided you, sitting on your vanity stool, head in his hands like he wasn’t just watching you touch yourself. You scream, out of shock and anger this time, trying to cover yourself and yell at him to get out. Melone’s incredibly stubborn however, and the tongue of a snake, and is able to persuade you into letting him stay, be it from charm, blackmail, or perhaps tapping into your own dark desires.

He starts by merely watching you, taking pictures with his phone and directing babyface on angles to take video. He instructs you on how to touch yourself, and gives you free range on his collection of toys. It all feels good, and you are able to come, but you’re still unsatisfied, to your disappointment. As if knowing this would be the result all along, Melone plays dumb and makes YOU beg him to touch and fuck you.

Once you finally give in, though, he’s much nicer to you, and to no one’s surprise is an excellent lover. He licks your pussy until you come again, and then finger fucks you once more for good measure, before pulling out his copy of the Kama Sutra. He lets you pick out your favorite positions, as well as a few he thinks will give you the most pleasure, and you tire yourself out.

Ghiaccio:

Ghiacchio does NOT want to deal with your loud noises right now, and he ESPECIALLY doesn’t want to deal with the “problem” it’s caused him personally. He breaks your door down, fully intending to chew you out for being so….”distracting” but ironically enough, Ghiacchio freezes when he sees you. He doesn’t have the most experience with dating, especially not with women (I imagine what limited experience he has was with other passione members *cough* Melone *cough*) so seeing you fully bare in front of him is a lot.

The noises you made haven’t helped either, halfway pained and desperate, it makes Ghiaccio oddly jealous; he wants to be the one that makes you make those noises. So before you can chase him out, or cover yourself, he tackles you on the bed, sloppily kissing and touching you. He’s rough, as you could have probably guessed, but also weirdly shy and gentle? For example, he fingers you so roughly and quickly you cum squirting within minutes, but he’s looking you in the eyes the entire time and gaging your expressions/reactions. He’s got a giant blush on his face, almost like he’s ashamed of doing this, but then bites your shoulder while he spears himself inside of you with a snarl.

Good news: you are no longer the loudest one in the house, Ghiacchio progressively growling then shouting the closer he is to climax. He jackhammers you with incredible speed, and bends your body in half to suit his own purposes. It takes him a couple rounds until he’s fully sated, but then he gets really soft afterwards. He likes to spoon you from behind so you don’t see his face, but he holds you gently, rubbing your shoulders where he nipped you, and soothing your sore muscles.

Risotto:

Let’s be honest: this isn’t his first time hearing you masterbate, he’s heard everyone in the base do it at least once. Hell, he’s even walked in on Melone a dozen times, once with Ghiacchio, so that’s not the issue. What is the issue, however, is that you’re being so loud and obvious he can’t ignore it. Even putting aside his personal feelings for you (which he isn’t necessarily willing to do) it would be bad if you were keeping yourself pent up like this around the others. You could be distracted on missions and hurt yourself or mess up your hit. Or worse- you could go to the others for sexual relief.

Clearly, you needed help, and it was your capo’s responsibility to help you take care of it, and only him. He turns invisible and sneaks into your room, but he needn’t have tried so hard to be stealthy. You were clearly in your own little world, fucking yourself on your fingers, crying out over the wet squelching of your aching pussy. He touches you lightly, so lightly you barely notice, while he’s still invisible. Sure, Risotto’s more than happy to do this, and he doesn’t care if you or the others know about his feelings, but he’s still a little shy, and unsure how you’ll react.

He’s worried for nothing, however, when you unconsciously rock into his touch, palming your breasts and licking the sweat off your brow. You’re confused about the phantom touches lingering on your body and invisible force rubbing your clit, but too aroused to do anything about it. You merely relax your tired body, letting yourself be finger-fucked into climax, crying out in pleasure-pain from the large, rough hands raking orgasm after orgasm out of your body.

After Risotto’s able to finger you enough to (he hopes) sufficiently stretch you out, he repositions your limp body, fluffing pillows under your head and placing you to face his still invisible body. He rubs the head of his cock against your clit and entrance, collecting as much lubrication onto his cock as he can. At the last minute, Risotto turns himself invisible, and watches the look of surprise and embarrassment turn into red hot need as he bottoms out into your aching, tender pussy.

He doesn’t go easy on you, each thrust hitting the deepest parts of you, forcing squeals out of you every time. You wrap your arms around him, trying to take some sort of control of the situation, but Risotto doesn’t give you an inch as he fucks the daylights out of you. Your moans spur him on, having gone from non-specific mewling to begging for Risotto to go deeper, harder, “more, more, more!” Risotto likes this side of you best, completely under his control and telling him exactly what he’s doing to you.

Far too soon, you orgasm again, already sensitive from your previous orgasms. Risotto isn’t done though, and doesn’t finish for several hours. Even when the others go home, and are tempted to say something, they hear who’s name you’re calling, and think twice before interrupting their capo’s “alone time.” Finally, after finishing, You pass out almost immediately, too exhausted to even clean yourself off. So, Risotto takes care of you, cleaning up your mess, putting some comfy pjs on you, and fetching some water and painkillers (just in case).

When he walks out of your room, the Squad is silent, no one daring to say anything (Ghiacchio and Formaggio are physically restraining Melone from talking). Risotto sees no need to say anything to them either, merely gives them all an unreadable look, before smiling to himself and returning to your room. Tomorrow, he’s going to need to rearrange the schedule; you’ll need some time off to recover.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 8- Bottled Appetites

Summary: A peaceful day can turn sour so fast, but alas, it still never fails to bring you adventure. Whether you’re ready for it or not.

Warnings: Jaskier being stubit, blood, Geralt being a hottie, a bit of smut

Masterlist

Today couldn't be more beautiful, the sun is shining her grand radiance and the forest is full of life as you listen to the singing of birds from your comfortable spot on a large tree branch that's hanging over top of Geralt. He's currently focused intently on fishing out a djinn to hopefully cure his sleep apnea that's been really bothering him as of late. Well, that's at least the reasoning he's claimed.

You've tried to help him with herbs, potions, and more sensual physical activities. But nothing has appeared to work, so here he is, grumpier then usual as he throws a fishing net into the river in hopes that he'll snag himself a djinn in a bottle.

Laying your back against the long branch, one of your legs swings casually back and forth as you listen to your surroundings. Your stomach growls from lack of any sufficient food in the last two days when your ears suddenly hear the tell tale singing of a certain bard as he strolls through the woodland in search of his long time friends, "Cause you all know. That this bard. Loved ladies from Nilfgaard. 'Cause Nilfgaard can kiss my..." Sings the bard as he wanders down the trail until his eyes land on your Witcher, "Geralt! Hello. What's it been months? Years? What is time, anyway? I heard you and Y/N...wherever she is....were in town.' His voice is just as cheerful and upbeat as you'd remembered, "Are you following me, you scamp? I mean I'm flattered and everything, but I think that feisty lady of yours may start to get jealous." Rambles Jaskier as he takes out his flask.

He takes a small sip before offering it to Geralt, who ignores him, Jaskier shakes this off and keeps to his questioning when suddenly you drop down from seemingly out of nowhere. Doing a fantastic job at scaring the shit out of Jaskier in your abrupt arrival, he yelps before stumbling back a few feet. "Dear gods Y/N have you been just hanging around in the treetops like some type of...of..bat?" He stammers breathlessly, a hand over his thudding heart.

Smirking at him you throw him a quick wink, "Only for you my humble bard." He stands up straight as a light blush dusts his cheeks as you turn to follow Geralt down the side of the river path, while he searches for a better spot to catch this djinn, Jaskier trailing behind you both.

"Geralt, you're fantastic at a great many things, but clearly, fishing is not one of them. Have you caught anything today? What are you fishing for, exactly?" Intrudes Jaskier as Geralt fiddles with his netting while you lean against a tree, "Is it cod? Carp?" He looks to you for a second before his attentions back on Geralt, "Pike? Bream? I'm just....I'm just listing off fish that I know. Zander? Is that a fish?" Wonders the bard as he raises a brow at you.

You simply shrug, "He's not fishing, can't sleep." Jaskier nods, not sure what to do with that information.

"Right. Good. Well, that...makes sense. In so much that it sort of...doesn't." Frowns Jaskier as he suddenly looks a bit more worried, "What's going on Geralt, talk to me."

Geralt stops before letting out a tired sigh as he looks to Jaskier, "A djinn." Is all he admits before he's back to grappling with his net.

You watch as Jaskier's face scrunches up in deep confusion, "A what?"

"I'm looking for a djinn." Grumbles Geralt as the bards face looks even more puzzled then before.

Then all at once it seems that he's finally connected the dots, a smirk breaking upon his face as he sets his hands onto either hip, "For a dj....for a djinn? A dj...like a genie?" Laughs Jaskier as he wiggles his fingers in a playful manner, "The floaty fellas with the....the bad tempers and the banned magics, that kind of genie?"

Geralt stand up once again, a hard expression across his brow while Jaskier fails at concealing his laughter, "Yes. It'll grant me wishes. It's in this river somewhere. And I can't FUCKING SLEEP!" Snaps Geralt, golden eyes glowing even brighter as his anger boils over.

Geralt glances to you for a brief moment before turning and walking further down the river path, the bard follows suite as you trail behind them, amused at Jaskier's continuous rambling about his latest adventures and the possible reason why Geralt is so sleep deprived.

"Have you ever considered why you may be feeling this way hm, let's say...oh I don't know, we find the root of the problem. I mean, maybe, just maybe this whole sleeplessness-ness has got something to do with what the druid Mousesack said to you guys in Cintra? You know, the Law of Surprise? Destiny? Being unable to escape the child that belongs to you, et cetera, et cetera?" Inquires Jaskier as you watch Geralt prepare to throw in the net.

"No! Y/N was there too and she's fine....this is something else." Grumbles your Witcher as he throws his net into the waters below.

Jaskier looks from you to Geralt, hands on his hips the whole time, "Yeah, you're probably right. But what if you're not? You know, the Countess de Stael once said to me...that destiny is just the embodiment of the soul's desire to grow." Explains Jaskier he walks past you to sit down on a log.

A small laugh escapes from your lips as you turn to the bard, "Did you sing to her before she left?" You honestly couldn't help yourself, pushing Jaskier's buttons is just a solid talent of yours.

He looks out at the water, "I did, actually, and she.." His head quickly turns to you once he realizes what that comment suggested, "Why, what are you implying?" Wonders Jaskier as he tilts his head to you, a smirk breaks out upon your face as you then bite your lip to keep silent. He gets up from the log, an abashed expression crossing his features, "Oh, we are so having this conversation. Come on, Y/N. Geralt. Tell me. Be honest. How's my singing?"

You cross your arms over your chest while casually looking out at the river and pretend that he hasn't even said anything, although you're certain Geralt on the other hand will add his two cents. He tosses his net out into the water once again before turning to Jaskier, "It's like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling." Deadpans Geralt as you burst with laughter, Jaskier looking rather taken aback as his eyes go wide in surprise.

"You need a nap! I mean are you trying to hurt my feelings, Geralt? It's...it's down-downright indecorous of you, if I'm completely honest, and.." He quickly loses interest once Geralt unveils a bottle from his net, "Wow. Wow. What is...what is that?" Questions Jaskier as Geralt holds the djinn bottle in his muddy hands, you hover over his shoulder as you stare at the thing in amazement. It doesn't look like much but the wizards seal on the bottles cork is truly telling, too bad it doesn't have a three course meal inside.

"It's a wizards seal. The djinn." Geralt confirms softly as he studies the enchanted bottle until Jaskier suddenly grabs onto the bottles other handle.

"Do you mind if I...."

"Jaskier." Snaps Geralt as you stand back to watch, deciding it more entertaining if you don't intervene.

The bard points an accusing finger in his direction, "Take it back about my filling-less pie. Take it back, you get your djinny-djinn-djinn."

Rolling your crimson eyes you set a hand on your hip, "Let go Jask."

He turns to you with a fake sneer before snapping his attention back to your stoic Witcher, "No! No, you let go, you horse's arse!" Suddenly the bottle slips from Geralt's hand as he looks down at the cork in his fist, a confused expression on his handsome features as nothing appears to happen around either of them.

Jaskier studies the bottle in his hand, looking rather disappointed, "That's a bit of an anticlimax." He mutters dismally at the boring turn of events, although you can't help but notice as a soft supernatural whispering begins to make itself known to your hypersensitive ears, then right on cue does the wind begin to pick up, the woods feeling a bit darker as the clouds go grey up above, "Or is it?" He says excitedly as he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

Crossing your arms over your chest, your nerves prick at the odd change in the atmosphere, "Shit." You mumble while Jaskier walks past Geralt, he gives you a sour look as you grimace in knowing annoyance.

Standing on the edge of the riverbank, Jaskier points to the sky, "Djinn, I have freed thee, and as of this day, I am thy lord. Firstly, may Valdo Marx the troubadour of Cidaris, be struck down with apoplexy and die. Secondly, the Countess de Stael must welcome me back with glee, open arms and very little clothing. Thirdly..." Geralt quickly pulls him back in an attempt to shut him up before something terrible happens to him.

"Jaskier! Stop. There are only three wishes." Warns Geralt as you stand next to him, the both of you staring the bard down like two disappointed parents.

"You're a fucking idiot, Jask." You add bluntly as he simply rolls his blue eyes, unbothered by this djinn considering his two friends are a Witcher and dhampire.

"Only three wishes!" Grumbles Geralt as Jaskier observes his agitated demeanor.

"Oh, come on, you got Y/N, she's quite literally the best thing that's ever happened to you...how was I to know you wanted three wishes all to yourself?" Shouts the bard over the loud enchanted winds that are rapidly starting to build, ones that are rocking the tree branches and leaves every which way, as well as your hair.

"I just want some damn peace!" Bellows Geralt in frustration.

"Well, here's your peace!" Snaps Jaskier before idiotically smashing the bottle upon the ground in a blind moment of irritation.

Geralt quickly squats down to pick up the broken shards as you reach down to do the same, while picking them up he accidentally cuts himself on a sharp edge. You can instantly smell the blood, and though you haven't given into darker temptations in a long while. You're rather hungry from lack of coin to pay for any such meals that would gladly satisfy you, and right now it feels too much.

Snapping away from Geralt, you stand to your full height as you finally notice how sickly peculiar Jaskier is starting to appear, "Uh Y/N.." Gasps the bard breathlessly as he holds a hand to his throat, "Y/N...it's the djinn!" Stammers Jaskier as he points towards the river, you snap your attention to find a wispy black and purple mass racing for the three of you over the water.

Your eyes go wide in startled bewilderment, "Geralt!" You shout just as he stands and uses his magic to propel the creature back where it decides to take off into the sky.

Your Witcher stares up at the horizon as you catch the enthralling scent of blood once more, god you should really have eaten some berries or at least stolen something earlier to avoid this terrible primal hunger. You look over to Jaskier who's not looking too hot, a tiny trail of blood seeps out of the side of his mouth, his neck forming an unnatural lump as he wheezes in pain.

Geralt snaps his golden eyes down to the panicking bard, "Jaskier." He speaks before Jask leans over, a ruby red spurt of blood bursting from out of his mouth as he tries to gasp for breath, "Y/N?" Pleads Geralt in hopes that you can help him somehow. Though you're certain that if you would get any closer, you may break and give into your deeper vampiric desires that you've held at bay for so long. The part of you that has forever kept yourself from ever truly feeling human.

Shaking your head you flicker your eyes over to him, "I...I can't....I'm too starved....I'm sorry." You breath out, taking a cautious step back, the scent of Jaskier's warm blood on the breeze is enough to make your mouth water.

He purses his lips together, knowing that you can't do much for the time being, "Fuck." Grumbles Geralt as he quickly picks up Jaskier before booking it down the trail for Roach.

——

You follow in the form of a pack of bats close behind your boys as Geralt leads Roach to a small camp in the woods. You watch as he yells in question for a doctor, Jaskier slumped to the side as he leans into Geralt's broad back. Quickly a soldier confirms that an elven healer is inside, you land on a large firm tree branch, turning back into your original form as you watch them scurry into the grand white tent.

You focus your hearing and learn that if Jaskier's wounds are not treated by proper magic remedies, then he will certainly die. A pang of worry strikes you at the thought of your bard gone, and you do feel quite terrible knowing that he's in so much pain. But to your great or at least somewhat relief does the elf give Jaskier a pain relieving liquid concoction, thus explaining that a malicious and cunning mage is imprisoned in the mayor's house in the next town over who could heal the bards wounds.

A prominent feeling of uneasiness and caution surges throughout you at the thought of meeting another mage after months of evading any at all. Soon enough they quickly exit the tent and find themselves upon Roach's back before they take off in the direction of the closest town. With a heavy sigh you jump from the tree, shifting into a pack of whimsical black bats as you fly after Geralt throughout the tree tops and evening sky.

You're flight feels short lived as a couple miles later does Geralt finally find the large brick house of the mayor, its a rather beautiful place positioned on the edge of a huge lake with woods comfortably surrounding it. Roach gallops onto the gravel road when suddenly a tough half bald bearded man walks up to them. He gives them a hard time before Geralt abruptly knocks him out with a sack of coins, much to your amusement.

He takes Roach to the stables as you fly downward towards the ground, just as Geralt walks out of the barn with Jaskier dangling over his shoulder, you hastily shift back into your more presentable self. He gives you a nod of acknowledgment before a stern and determined look appears onto his hard features as he practically strides towards the closest wooden door. You follow behind as you clench your fists together in an attempt at distracting yourself from your ever growing hunger, the blood seeping out of Jaskier's mouth smells sweet as fresh berries as it wafts into your nostrils.

He wheezes in pain with every step that Geralt takes down the wine filled hallway which is enough to keep yourself from doing anything you'll regret later. He walks through a doorway before gently setting Jaskier onto the kitchen table, you follow in after him, your crimson eyes going wide as they find a naked man holding a brown shiny jug. He stares in awe at the three of you just as he drops his jug onto the stone floor below.

What the fuck?

A large drunken half smile makes its way onto his face, "Velcome...to my vome." Cheerfully announces the grey haired naked man, his arms spread wide in greeting, other parts of him also hanging out to your great disgust.

"You're the Mayor of Rinde?" Wonders Geralt as he looks to Jaskier.

Looking anywhere but the man, you throw a hand up before resting it onto your hip, "Our day has already been weird enough, why not meet a naked man in his home to top it all off, huh?" You jest with a nervous laugh, almost certain that this fool has been enchanted. He has to be, right?

The bard makes more wheezing sounds as Geralt's brow furrows in worry, "Uh, it there a mage that lives here?" The naked man turns to something sitting near Jaskier as his face shifts to that of realization.

"Ah. De apple jvuce. She vants some. And she alvays gets...vhat she vants." Whispers the man with a telling nod, oh yes he is without a doubt under some type of spell.

Geralt turns a confused eye to you, "I don't understand. Does he want me to get him the apple juice?" You turn your eyes back to the man as he goes to sit down in a chair, you look back to Geralt with a shrug, "No idea? Let's just find this fucking mage." You grumble as Jaskier tries to nod.

Your Witcher grabs the apples juice and the scruff of the bards baby blue jacket as he goes to walk into the nearest doorway. You turn back to the naked potbellied man only to be greeted with his loud snores, shaking your head you amble after your boys. As you follow closely behind Geralt you look down to notice as a greenish mist cascades out from under the closed door. He quickly pulls it open as more billows out and into the hallway, there's nothing on the other side but an ascending staircase, to the left another closed doorway that seems to have even more of the mist coming from it.

It's strange, you can hear muffled moaning on the other side and the rapid beating of many loud heartbeats. Your questions are quickly answered as the two of them walk into the next open doorway only to stumble upon a massive orgy. You keep behind the wall as you crinkle your nose in disgust at the strong scent of sex, sweat, and perfume in the air, a less than pleased expression crossing your features at the sickening toxins.

One that most likely matches Geralt's if you didn't know any better. You listen closely as he walks through the moaning crowd before he plops Jaskier next to someone, you feel almost sick from lack of food and the smell of this place is just about driving you mad. But you can't face the mage, something just doesn't feel right.

You listen as he speaks to her, your heart falling into your throat as she replies back, that voice, you haven't heard that voice in decades. But how? How could she be here of all places to be? Shaking your thoughts from your mind you eves drop in on their conversation until she begins to give him a hard time about payment, sounding rather too sensual for your liking.

"It's spreading, fix it. And I'll pay you. Whatever the price." Mutters Geralt to the familiar mage as he looks up at her from his spot near the small stairway that she's standing on.

"You'll have to do better then juice." Answers the mage slyly as she contemplates this intriguing new proposition.

"Yennefer." She stops in her tracks, her body tense as realization crosses her masked face, "Don't be difficult." You add as Geralt steps to the side, a confused expression on his face as he looks from you to Yennefer and back to you again.

She takes a step down, a small smirk adoring her ruby red lips as she looks you over, "Now this...is a surprise, how long's it been? I honestly wasn't certain that our paths would ever cross again, I was almost hoping they wouldn't....but alas. Here you are....it's good to see you Y/N." She smiles, studying your bloodshot eyes due to your increase in hunger, she smiles, "You look, famished." Concludes the mage with a tilt of her head.

You slightly shrug, "What a kind way to say I look like I'm halfway into hell....now, save him before he bleeds anymore."

She smiles, looking down at the djinn's bottle cap, "As you command, princess Y/N." Quips Yennefer with a smirk as she looks around the room, "Ragamuffin!" And just like that the mass orgy stops, the participating villagers snapping back to reality in the process. They quickly scramble to cover themselves as Yennefer looks to the two of you, nodding for you three to follow her to where she can heal Jaskier.

——

After clearing out half the pantry and about two small bottles of wine, you're finally satiated and no more half starved. You casually sit on the kitchen table as Geralt stares at the floor in worry for the bard and in deep questioning thought about how the hell you know Yennefer. You could practically cut the tension with a knife, but then much to your relief she comes walking down the steps.

Calmly announcing that Jaskier is in a deep healing sleep, and that you both urgently need a bath, something you wholeheartedly agree on. She hands the both of you some clean clothes as she directs you into the direction of the bathhouse, going elsewhere to give you both some privacy.

You walk into the steamy warm room as Geralt shuts the door, locking it as you start to unlace your top, "Y/N how do you know..."

"Ask me when I'm in the bath, then I'll indulge you for some of my hidden past....dealings." You interrupt with the flash of a smile before throwing off your top and bra. You face away from him as you kick off your boots, quickly shimmying out of your dark pants and undergarments as you stand stark naked by the heated pool.

Turning a quick glance behind you, your eyes catch Geralt's as his golden irises trail down your body, he looks away as an embarrassed grin makes its way onto his handsome face. You smile to yourself, turning to lower your tired vessel into the steaming waters. Sighing in pleasure at how the bath feels blessedly nice after many moons of going without a proper clean.

You close your eyes as your sit peacefully by the waters edge, a smirk playing at your lips as Geralt's muscular body gets in after you. You listen intently as he lets himself enjoy the warmth before some water swishes and he's pressed firmly against your side. An arm draped over your shoulder as his other one leans against the cool stony edge, you can just tell that he's taking you all in even as his mind swirls with questions.

"Y/N? What did you get into before you met me....or I guess what type of trouble? Although I do happen to recall your hatred for wizards and mages alike." Mutters your Witcher as he looks down at your relaxed form, your body but a nude distortion under the clear waters of the pool.

Humming in acknowledgment, you open a scarlet eye to look up at him as you give him a small smile, you can tell that if it wasn't for how curious he is at the moment, he'd without a doubt be turning you into a moaning mess by the waters edge within minutes, "I know Yennefer because...I....well I was a type of courier in Aretuza for many years." His dark brows furrow in thought, not sure what you're getting at so you continue, "The mage academy, I traveled there because I searched for the aid of the mages, you see, I had found a farm girl who was bitten by a werewolf and survived. Her father said he would pay me if I delivered her into their care, double if they cured her."

His hand trails tiny patterns against your arm, "And what did you do?"

"I was able to save her life, we had a week before the next full moon and a mage there had the needed remedy to reverse the lycanthropy. After that, I stayed with her there as she recovered from the whole ordeal...considering the process of taking away ones curse is a painful one." You explain as he laces a hand with your own, invested in your story with every new word coming from your lips, "In my time, I investigated the grounds...I was only two-hundred something then...I wanted to see everything. So I did, in doing so, and yes I'm aware this is going to sound quite unlike myself...but, I made a friend."

He hums, squeezing your arm gently in reply, "Her name was Tissaia de Vries, though that hardly matters now it's been so long, anyways....she appeared to like me well enough, I needed a place to cover myself from the rain, and coin to keep me alive and she knew what I was useful for. I basically became a raven, I would take precious letters, scrolls, or artifacts from Aretuza to wherever needed and vise versa. It was safer that way, no one would dare fuck with a dhampir of all travelers, and the ones who did promptly regretted it...and I got to live in the academy for free. It was perfect."

"When did you meet Yennefer?"

"Sometime after a good many years as a courier slash traveling body guard for high end royals who payed well, Tissaia had just brought her to Aretuza for the first time and while walking near her room I could smell the blood pouring out of her slashed wrists, the fool was trying to kill herself." He glances down at you, more intrigued then ever.

(Cue flashback)

"Check on piglet would you Y/N, I'll be gathering the girls for their first lesson shortly in the greenhouse. Make sure she's up." Says Tissaia as she writes something down on a piece of parchment with her quill.

Setting down some type of golden box onto one of her many counters you turn to her, "The little bird seems hardly mage material if I'm being honest....she's afraid, nervous, and ridiculously troubled...not to mention that hunched back of hers, poor things truly had it rough, now things only feel worse to her. You really know how to pick'em don't you?" You muse with a smirk as she continues to write, "Doesn't matter, everyone starts somewhere. I'll go find her, doubt she's decided to venture very far." You add before walking out the doorway and into the stony halls of the enchanted academy.

You pass by a couple mages here and there as you find your way to the novice's rooms in the lower section of the giant castle, you suddenly stop as you've successfully made it to her door. Not caring enough to knock, you swing it open as you find the sad hunchbacked girl, who's sniffling pathetically in her creaky bed, "Greetings little bird, how was your sleep?" Your voice is lively as you smile down in her direction while more dismal sniffles sound, a small half-frown graces your features as you cross your arms over your chest, "Can't say very well considering you've lost a good amount of blood, which I might add is not ideal for your first day of lessons or in general if we're being honest. You're seriously lucky I wasn't starving when I found you."

She sighs, "I don't want to do any lessons. Just leave me. You should have just let me die...at least I still had control over that." She whispers sadly, her back is still turned to you as you take another step closer.

Lightly chuckling, she turns to you, a harsh glare crossing her puffy features as you scoff, "That's hilarious. You really think that you had control? You didn't have shit little bird....you didn't have control, you were losing it." Her crooked face morphs into a frustrated glare as she thinks over your words, you simply shrug, "Now, you've survived and are very much alive whether you like it or not, it's close to the hour for your first lessons as a real mage in training, important shit for your kind. So get up little bird, it's time to fly."

She sniffles once more before giving you a downcast expression, "I can't."

Touching her shoulder in as comforting of a manner as you can muster you smile kindly down at her, "Listen, you can either let the world fuck you like a cheap whore, or you can become a dragon who does whatever the hell they please. Which is it my crooked friend? Who are you going to become?"

Slowly sitting up onto the edge of her bed, she rubs her nose, the tiniest bit of confidence flashing through her purple eyes, "A dragon." She whispers softly, a small spark of life coursing through her once again.

(End flashback)

"I had no idea, this whole time." Whispers Geralt.

You gently nudge his bare shoulder, "Yeah well you never exactly asked, and I didn't feel it important because it isn't or I guess wasn't....that is, until we happened to meet her this evening. Weirder circumstances have be felled us."

"That is true, its just, you were actual friends with mages." Says Geralt like its the most surprising thing in the world, "Now I understand how you knew Mousesack. I had always wondered about that."

"Hmm. Right, well you see and meet a lot of different people when you can't age. He's gotten greyer since the last time, Yennefer however, she still looks the same."

Geralt squeezes your hand, "And you, look even more radiant."

He looks down at you once more, the flash of something new and intriguing shinning bright in his golden eyes as they trail up and down your body. You smirk, pulling his arm from you as you position yourself in front of him, reaching your arms out to push his thighs apart. He eyes you up the whole time, hardness beginning to grow underneath the waters as you touch his shoulders, lining yourself up against him, ready to claim him completely, by just inches.

You softly kiss him, "Fuck me so that damn witch knows exactly who you belong to." His hands trail up to your sides as he pushes you down on his erect member, a low hum escaping your lips at the contact, his fullness pleasantly stretching your walls from within the steamy waters.

Geralt kisses you once more, another upon your neck as he smiles, "Such a compelling offer..." His words evade him as a moan leaves from his parted lips as you begin to ride him, the pools water swishing as you bounce. The next twenty minutes are spent fucking each other until you're one-hundred percent positive that Yennefer could hear every scream and thrust.

Just as you'd intended.

——

You stand at the foot of Jaskier's extravagant bed as Yennefer watches from the doorframe, Geralt near his side as the bard sleeps peacefully away his troubles and malevolent enchantment. Geralt looks on at him, a distraught expression crossing over his features as Yennefer asks if he doubts her capabilities. He grumbles a truthful no, as his only cause of worry is that if Jaskier never wakes up he'll feel terrible for the unkind words that were said to him before all this mess happened.

She smiles when he grumbles about her actual intentions, she simply walks past you over to her table of spices and herbs, but before she can get to it Geralt makes note of how the sign from the djinn's seal is marked upon the floor with candle wax. Her face falters as she realizes that she's been found out, you had figured something was up the moment you stepped into the room and saw it near the end of the large bed.

Leaning yourself against one of the bed posts, you listen as Geralt declares that he's going to take Jaskier now to prevent Yennefer from summoning the djinn, she smartly explains that if he does, then the spell won't take. So you're all essentially stuck until Jaskier is healed, whenever that may be. She turns to open a tiny bottle of oil on her stand, nonchalantly rubbing it into the skin of her wrist as she magically sets the summoning circle candles on fire, an enchanted burst of wind sending the drapes of the bed flying and flapping into the air, your hair as well.

This doesn't sit right with your Witcher at all, especially when she asks how many wishes he has made, Geralt doesn't give her a direct answer until he lets slip that Jask has only used two wishes. Her face perks up at this news, she gives you a mischievous wink before walking over to Geralt, who looks like something strange is happening to him.

You can smell the scent of lilac and gooseberries wafting throughout the room as she walks closer to him, "Tough to get in your head. You have a strong will, but you can't contend with me." You suddenly feel rather sleepy as Geralt looks down at her in anger, instead of helping him, you sit down on the bed and try your best to listen, "Sorry I couldn't be more direct, I knew you two would fight it. And I do love a good old-fashioned trap." She muses as your eyelids begins to grow heavy, a yawn leaving your mouth as you rest a hand against the soft inviting mattress.

So soft, so tired, how'd you get so sleepy?

Against everything in you that's screaming for you to stay awake to stop Yennefer, you feel utterly relaxed, so much so that instead of helping Geralt to stay conscious. You lay yourself on the giant bed, you blearily stare up at the dark wooden ceiling in false content, everything feels so warm and lovely. The room swirls and shifts as you tiredly close your crimson eyes, the sweet enchanting scent of lilac lulling you into a deep and blissful slumber.

Breathing in sharply, you stretch in the soft bed as your eyes finally open to the morning light pouring out from the two giant glass windows on either side of the bed. You're laying on your left side so as you focus better, you're surprised to find Jaskier laying on his back next to you. This is definitely not Geralt, so how did you get here?

Oh right, Yennefer.

Quickly sitting yourself up you look to the end of the bed where Yennefer is sitting, topless as she rubs something onto her bare abdomen. Your brows furrow as you stare at her back, "What the fuck are you doing?" You question, no heat really in your words, you're honestly more confused then anything at the moment.

Without looking at you she starts, "I need the djinn Y/N, this is how I intend to take it."

Sliding off of the side of the bed, you walk around so that you can lean against the wooden beam to see what she's getting at, "That's rather vague Yenn, but if I was to make an educated guess from my clever sleuthing, or just general understanding of how that clapping monkey of a brain works. I'd say you're trying to summon the fucker so your last wish may be for a child in your womb. Nice tattoo by the way, very original." You nod to the dark colored insignia on her lower abdomen in the shape of the female reproductive system, who would have guessed she was such as artist.

She glances at you for a second, anger slowly building in her chest, "How very clever indeed Y/N, even in old age does your mind stay as sharp as a tack." Her tone is bluntly sarcastic, but you stay unaltered by her jest.

You tilt your head at her, "Djinn's are finicky creatures, I wouldn't try and do exactly what I think you're going to do."

"And what is that?" She snaps, her eyes focused ahead.

Rolling your eyes you let out an irritated huff of air, "Become the djinn's physical vessel, its suicide...and you know it. Even the most powerful of mages cannot harness the true strength and imperium of the djinn, what would compel you to attempt this? What will having a child gain you, in this world of all places?"

She doesn't have time to answer as Jaskier suddenly wakes up with a start, he pushes himself up into a sitting position as he squints from the bright light of the room, "Oh, uh...where am I?" His eyes quickly land on the bare back of Yennefer since he can't see you from behind the thick pulled back curtain, "Whew! Uh...Right. Good. Good. Uh...Not to be untoward or anything...but, did we...you know, do the uh..." She slowly covers her bare torso and chest with her thin golden white top as she turns around to face him and crawl upon the bed, "Ooh, Go...Oh, no! No! Definitely did not butter that biscuit." Rushes Jaskier as he scrambles to get off, you watch as he shuffles past you, his eyes going wide in puzzlement, "Oh hello there Y/N, nice morning huh....oh shit, uh...look lady I'm so sorry, but I've just remembered I left my...cat, on the, stove."

He walks backwards as Yennefer continues her stalk towards him, "I...I uh, we really must going, isn't that right Y/N!" He exclaims as he quickly bends down to put on his shoes. You're not entirely sure how to handle this situation if you're being totally honest, you're not exactly one to stop people from living their dreams, especially if it's Yennefer doing something stupid and you also rather enjoy watching Jaskier piss himself.

Her eyes darken, "Express your deepest desires and you can be on your way." She asserts as her hand picks up a knife from her drawer.

"Well, my deepest desires are currently satisfied, thank you so much." Sputters Jaskier as Yennefer uses her power to slam him against the nearby wall.

"Is this really necessary?" You remark as she focuses on the bard.

"Yes." Is all that comes forth from her lips as she goes to threaten Jaskier, "How's your throat?"

"Uh.." Jaskier gives you a nervous glance before snapping back to the approaching mage.

Smiling wickedly she takes another step closer, "Perhaps you should try some scales."

Jaskier flinches back as the mage grabs a hold of him, "Uh...Toss a coin to your Witcher. O, valley of...penis. Oh, God." He stammers as Yenn grabs his junk in one hand and presses a knife against his throat in the other.

"If you want to keep all you have...make a damn wish." She threatens with malice, Jaskier breathing heavily in fear, he doesn't say anything as he throws pleading eyes your way. Scoffing she lets go of him and instead walks over to kneel down at the circle of burning candles, "Make a damn wish! Do it now!" Shouts the insane witch, an enchanted breeze finding its way into the room even with lack of opened windows.

Jaskier slides down the wall as he looks to you who only shrugs in reply, this is his problem now. He shifts his attention back to the mage, "I don't...I don't know! I wish very badly to leave this place forever!" Cries Jaskier as Yennefer gasps, her breathing going deeper as she begins to chant something in Eldar. The room instantly fills with winds, papers flying across the room at the intrusion.

Holding tightly onto the shaking wooden beam of the bed you glance from Jaskier to Yennefer, "You're fucking crazy Yennefer! This is madness!" She all but ignores you, her chanting getting louder and louder as the magical winds send your hair flying in all directions, "Fuck. Jaskier get out of here while you can, the djinn is close I can feel it!" You scream above the noise, he quickly nods before jumping to his feet and racing out the opened door.

You turn a worried face to Yennefer, "I'm not sure about you but, lets not invite a fucking genie into this place! You don't even own it! And stop speaking Eldar before this dark fucker possesses you!" She doesn't even give you a glance, as right on cue does the black wispy shadow of the djinn seep into the room and hastily flow into her body.

Your eyes go wide at the abrupt turn of events, "Fine. I'll save you myself, fucking mages." You mutter before taking a step forward, in an instant her eyes shoot open to reveal a sickly pink covering the entirety of her whole eyeball, she shoots up a hand and before you have a chance to do anything. Your whole body is thrown back into the hard glass window and straight out into the misty morning air as you free fall towards the grassy courtyard below.

Taken off guard but anticipating the nearing ground, you quickly stop yourself and levitate mere inches from the earth. You lower your feet onto the grass, an annoyed sigh leaving your lips as you pick some glass shards out of your arms and pant legs. You stand in the morning light beginning to rethink your life choices when pained screams are heard from up above, it's Yennefer, she's screaming at Geralt to make a wish so she can finally have all the power. Clearly things are not going well by any means, so instead of leaving her to an inevitable demise like how you'd planned, you fly back up to the broken window and right into the windy chaotic mess of a room.

A pillow nearly misses your head when you arrive just as the djinn screams for Geralt to use his wish on anything that he so desires. You jog over to the circle of candles as his golden eyes find yours, "Just make a fucking wish!" You shout before the djinn compels Yennefer to throw you against the far wall in an act of mindless rage. You're back hits the wood first, your head cracking against it with a thud, ouch.

You fall to the messy floor in a daze, a single trickle of blood falling down the side of your temple as you stand to slowly regain your bearings once again. Although when you look up, it appears that Geralt has spoken his last wish, the wind has dissipated and Yennefer seems to have come around to her mostly normal self.

Breathing heavily from her spot on the floor she turns to you, "Is it over?" She whispers tiredly, "Is it done?"

Sensing movement from the attic you zero in on the noise, "Oh fuck it's still here!" You bellow before the ceiling crumbles and cracks open, wood, stone, metal and whatever else bursting through as the djinn destroys the roof. Your eyes go wide as a large piece of wood breaks away, heading straight for Yennefer, more chunks racing down for Geralt as well.

In a blur you're able to save them both from a suddenly violent death as you rest them against the floor away from the destructive mess happening near the bed and windows. Geralt sits up and scoots back as you rest your old friend upon a soft red and gold pillow, she's asleep from the quick rushed movement you'd just subjected her to. You're going to have to remember that not everyone is very fond of whiplash.

Leaning over her, you lightly shake her arm, "Yennefer. It's me, Y/N. Wake up idiot." Her lavender irises slowly flicker open as you sit back, a sigh of relief leaving your parted lips as you turn to make sure Geralt's alright. He's already asleep on another large blue pillow, so much for the mighty Witcher.

"Wha...what?" She mumbles softly before her eyes open wider in realization, "Y/N why did you stop me! I nearly had it, I was so close and you ruined it, why di..."

Your brows furrow in confusion at her needless outburst, "You had shit, I saved your life! You ungrateful..."

"Oh, well I saved that fucking bard's life and your precious Witcher's...but now he's let the djinn escape! Who knows what havoc it'll wreak now that it has no vessel at all?" She fumes, glaring at you angrily.

Rolling your scarlet eyes at her frustration, you sit down on the carpeted floor, "No more havoc then you. Djinns are only dark creatures when held captive."

"How can you be so sure?" She snaps.

You raise an eyebrow at her, "When did you last feel happy when you felt trapped? And besides, if you were going to portal us to safety, you could have taken us out of this shit town!"

Yennefer huffs in annoyance, "A fine critique if you could make a portal yourself. Or better yet, turn into a giant bat and fly us away from here...and it wasn't a shit town, it was fine till you and your two incompetent imbeciles came along. I had a plan!" She exclaims pointedly as you begin to chuckle.

Her glare hard pressed as you smirk, "And that was going rather swimmingly!"

"It was!" Snaps Yennefer, "Like a drowning fish." She looks to you with angry eyes, her fire slowly brimming as a smile breaks out onto her face.

"More like a dead and dry one." You muse with a laugh as you frown, "oh gods look at us, how'd we ever get here huh....from Aretuza to the destroyed aftermath of a fucking djinn."

Her face falters for a moment as she thinks over your words, "Who can say? Bad choices perhaps, maybe we do it to ourselves for the fun of it."

"Maybe you're just a thrill seeker." She gives you a half offended glare as you simply stick your tongue out at her, "But we've survived nonetheless, I'll take that as a promising sign for the time being."

"I guess that means something then." She looks down to her hands, a downcast expression crossing her sweaty features, "I am glad to have seen you again in all honesty, it's just been a very long while since I've seen anyone familiar." Admits the violet eyed mage.

You shrug, "Or tolerable?"

"Yes, or tolerable. My life at court was...almost all for naught, I feel like I didn't do anything worth my time there....even got a knife through my shoulder when the Queen I was accompanying was killed by an assassin. I was done." She explains with a frown, you can tell something else about it bothers her, but you'd rather not press your curiosity.

"The things I miss when I'm elsewhere. Who needs a life at court anyway...I on the other hand was never meant to rule a castle. Perhaps it's a good thing my mother won't ever age, or die. And I have my freedom to roam the Continent as I please, a free woman bound by nothing but what I choose, and so I have." She gives you a downcast smile.

"I almost envy you Y/N. Truly. Now if only I could know what your Witcher happened to have wished for, but I'd rather not wake him. He almost looks peaceful in a sleeping bear kind of way." She adds while looking behind you at a snoozing Geralt, his chest slowly rising and falling with each soft breath.

You turn a loving gaze upon him, "Guess he does, doesn't he? Like a grimy sweaty mess of a man...my big grumpy bear." You muse, your eyes studying his face lovingly as a sudden idea comes to mind, you turn back to Yennefer with a mischievous smirk, "You know what, the bards recently single..."

Her face is almost a grimace as she shakes her head, "I'll take my chances elsewhere. But thank you Y/N, always watching out for me, usually pretty shit advice most often." She jests while rising to her feet, "I must be off before the town comes for my head, see you around...hopefully under better circumstances and with less destructive endings." You stand to your full height, a couple inches taller then Yennefer.

You both lean in for a parting hug, "Goodbye, Yennefer." Letting go of one another she hands you a small smile, "Try not to get killed Y/N."

"You. Try not to get involved with, well, you know." She nods before turning around and opening up a portal to some sunny ocean side market, you watch as she walks through it without another word, and off into the unknown she goes.

Yawning and feeling slightly off put from the whole ordeal, you turn to look over at Geralt, he's still out cold on the giant fluffy blue pillow. You smile adoringly at him before scooting yourself over, finally letting yourself rest near his peacefully sleeping form as you wait patiently for him to wake.

-

Tagged:  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

[fraidy-farfelle]

This is my attempt at the Fluff ABCs for Frankie the Undead. Please be gentle with criticism because I cry easily. I’ve taken some ideas from @lovestruck-lasagna.

Taglist: @writingfromthetomb @beebubb

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Your dry sense of humor. It perfectly matches his insults and he doesn’t have to go out of his way to make you laugh. He just says what he’s thinking and you laugh and agree.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Frankie appreciates a good smile, and for many reasons. He learned to read smiles (fake vs real) early on and uses it to gauge people, so he pays particular attention by default. He’s a sucker for cute dimples, and loves the way your nose scrunches and your eyes close.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

He loves late at night when you share the couch and he can read a good book, sip on some whiskey, or puff on a cigar. He really doesn’t care what you’re doing, he can tune out the TV or you prattling on about your day and make comments to show he’s listening. Put your feet in his lap, lay on top of him, make yourselves mummies in blankets, so long as he can reach his glass he doesn’t care. He just wants to be with you.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Stay in date nights are his favorite. He doesn’t really like to “share” your attention. He likes to either cook a meal together or order takeout and watch a movie. Particularly black and white gangster ones, or older horror films. Likes to tease you if you get scared and grab onto him. He’ll pat your head and say something like “oh there there, don’t be scared! I won’t let the big, bad monster getcha!” (Like your neighbor isn’t a 7 ft tall children murdering clown demon) If you go out, he prefers less crowded places outdoors.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

He’s a spitfire and he knows it. He tends to explode and then after a few minutes apologizes gruffly and explains himself. “WHY WERE YA OUT UNTIL MIDNIGHT, THATS SUCH A STUPID THING TO DO!” “Sorry, Frankie.” “…… ugh just, please get home earlier from now on. It’s dangerous and I worry about you.” Definitely doesn’t hug you close so you don’t see the relief and worry on his face. Nope!

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

He misses Amy desperately. He wants a little girl in his life again, although he’ll never ever admit it. He’s hesitant to make relationships because he doesn’t want to be hurt again. But, if you go out with him to the living world, you’ll catch him staring longingly at parents and daughters when he thinks you’re not looking. If you ask him what he’s looking at, he’ll shake his head and spit out a line about children being obnoxious but you can tell he’s blowing smoke.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

If the underworld wasn’t so dangerous, he’d love to drape you in the finest silks with diamonds and rubies dripping off of you. However he doesn’t want you to draw any unnecessary attention to yourself. So, he settles for things you don’t really see in public. He also doesn’t like to be found out about it. Your gas tank is filled, the bill you were worried about has mysteriously been paid, your favorite ice cream is in your freezer when you know you ate the last of it yesterday, and hey, didn’t you spend this $20? Why is it in your wallet? If you ever bring it up he’ll just shrug and say “How strange!”

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He’s torn about PDA because he doesn’t want you to become a target because you’re associated with him, and people stare at him enough because of his appearance. But on the other hand, he wants to show the world that someone as worthless as him (don’t say that we love you Frankie) has such an amazing person that loves him. Will absolutely grab you and passionately make out with you with one hand on your ass and the other flipping the bird to the cheeky bastard that told the broad beside him to watch out for the zombie.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Panic. Sheer panic. He’s so afraid to lose you, any injury is serious and cause for alarm.

Frankie:*bursting into a hospital lobby, screaming to be taken to f/n l/n immediately**running in the opposite direction the nurse pointed in panic**bursts into exam room 30 seconds later* “Y/N!!!!! I came as soon as I got the message, WHATS WRONG!!!”

You: *sitting on the table, reading phone* “Oh, I have a sprained ankle and they don’t want me to drive so can you give me a ride?”

Frankie:*slowly blinking* “Uh, yeah no problem…”

You: “lemme guess, you heard my name and hospital in the same sentence and ignored everything else.”

Frankie:*hanging his head* “go wait in the car, I’ll go apologize….”

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Not actual jokes, but he loves to sit with you and insult people. He’s an incredibly sweet person to you, but no one else. (Except service people, like nurses and waitresses. Just the general public) he doesn’t think pranks are funny or practical, which is one of the many reasons he and LJ butt heads. If LJ or Will prank you or him, he’s raising hell.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Love kissing your lips. He’s actually really self conscious about his mouth stitches and constantly frets they feel weird to you. Neck kisses are another favorite and are extremely private to him. He also likes to hold the back of your hand against his lips and tell you what he’s thinking, no matter how mundane. Kiss his stitches. Please. Just do it.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

He has trouble saying it to your face. He’ll whisper it to you when he thinks you’re sleeping, and he’s been known to leave little notes around for you to find. He thinks protecting you is the best way to show he cares.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

The day you finally broke down and told him you loved him. He knew as soon as he looked into your eyes and saw your smile his goose was cooked. He was very abrasive and hoping against hope that you’d leave him be. He knew you deserved better. He was so afraid to build a relationship and love again, he wanted to distance himself and if he was an asshole to you, it would be justified and you’d do it on your own. What he didn’t expect is for you to be so kind to him. Upon your initial meeting, he had been a little harsh, but helped you (if there’s enough interest I’ll do a fic about it) and so when he subsequently was a jerk to you, you were curious and determined to find out what he was hiding. He finally had been mean enough to make you cry. He had never regretted something he did before. He immediately wanted to cradle you to him and beg your forgiveness. Normally when he insulted you, you’d have a snarky retort in reply. But not this time. You fell to your knees and clung to his legs and demanded to know why he treated you so poorly and proclaimed your love for him. It was probably by accident and you were so distraught you didn’t even know it flew from your mouth, but hearing it, he couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t care about the consequences, he just wanted you. Hearing that you loved someone like him made him so happy, he knew he’d treasure the memory forever

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Losing you. Period.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

What ISNT odd about this man?! A cute one is he always winks with his green eye.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

I HC that he was born in the 30’s, so he calls you “doll” a lot but only in private. He uses your name otherwise so it’s not as obvious to people watching you’re together. He will absolutely refer to you as “the dame” to others. The equivalent of “the boss” or “old lady.” “William! The Dame is trying to take a nap, so shut up or I’ll shoot you!” You call him stitches to tease him in private and are the only person allowed to do so.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?) Either taking naps or couch potato time. Also, low key likes to cook with you. He can’t cook for shit, but likes to “help” by handing you things or chopping things for you. Is a super good taste tester, self appointed.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Stitches by Shawn Mendez (PLEASE DONT HURT ME!!)

We don’t have to Dance by Andy Black (referring to how he can’t really show you affection in public but he loves you)

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He’s open about himself and what he’s thinking, and will always take what you say into consideration. He doesn’t like to keep things from you, but he does omit some detail about his jobs if you ask about them. He just feels like you don’t need to be stressed about it.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

LJ picked up on Frankie’s fondness of you almost instantly. He and Will decided to do what they could to get you together in the interest of making Frankie less of a grouch. If it hadn’t been for them insisting that he was good guy to you, you probably WOULD have let Frankie’s prickly nature drive you away. It took a year or so for you to break down.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?) A powder keg of insults, foul language, and bullets. Has actually never called you a name outright, and would absolutely never physically hurt you. When he was deliberately being rude to you, he’d insult your actions rather than you. “Stop acting like a dumb broad!” Vs calling you a bitch to your face. He usually calms down quickly, and is hardly ever angry at you, only when you put yourself in danger.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He likes that he’s scary and tough looking so that when you’re with him, other men scatter pretty fast. Has had many occasions where he stepped away and someone came to flirt with you and he came back and had the pleasure of scaring them.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

You are not allowed to do anything dangerous, ever! Will teach you how to use a gun and how to counter things like chokeholds, so you’re less vulnerable. Will absolutely lose his mind if he learns you’ve put yourself at risk. He will shoot someone so fast for you. Takes every person as a threat to you and will pick fights with somebody that accidentally bumped into you. Do NOT test this man.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

You are an open book to him. He’s learned to read people well, and he takes his time studying you. Can tell if you’re getting sick before you can. More than once he’s handed you a bottle of Tylenol, leaving you bewildered, and shrugged and said to take them because you’ll have a headache in a few minutes. He can pick up on your emotions easily and has learned what to do to handle them.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

Honestly, marriage isn’t that important to him. He’s not opposed to the idea at all, but like you’ve been together for this long, you love each other, is it really necessary? You’d have to tell him you want to be officially married. He’ll buy you a ring, to show that you’re taken, if nothing else, but he’ll wear his around his neck under his tie so it’s not obvious he’s attached to anyone to discourage his rivals using you to get to him.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

The smell of your perfume. Holding you in his arms and taking deep breaths makes all of his troubles go away.

[aceofspadegrass]

Good Old Drama and Gossip

Characters: Hatter, Niragi Suguru, Morizono Aguni (Mentioned), Chishiya Shuntaro (mentioned), Last Boss (Briefly Mentioned), and me

Genre: Crack. This time it's just blind!Niragi being fussy and me stealing Aguni in the background

1.5k words

Part 3 of being a little shit to Hatter and getting away with it. But hey, at least there's the added bonus of Niragi being dramatic while being able to see nothing. A shame I didn't arm him with a cane and let him smack people.

Hatter was going to get them this time, he swears on it. It’s been more than a week since they last struck, and as far as he knew, there was not a single invasion into his Beach. He was always on alert, just in case something happened. It didn’t get in the way of his primary duty to his people, but the thought never left him to make sure everything he owned was in place.

Checking for any of the other’s stuff wasn’t anything Hatter worried about, thankfully. For some odd reason he could only interpret as ‘being too handsome and irresistible for his own good’ only his stuff was ever snatched like a cookie in the elusive cookie jar. He didn’t want to develop more stress lines making sure his men were okay in their personal possessions. Wrinkles shall only come to accentuate him, make him look good, not just tired and old.

That privilege can go to Aguni.

The man in question was at the very least rocking it, made him look fierce. Hatter could appreciate that in him, and it makes his job easier in subduing the more…. rambunctious of their group.

In fact, one of Aguni’s more problematic men, Niragi, had come back to a game with bad eye issues, even more worse than the appointed med staff could figure out. Apparently the game the oversaturated oil stain was in broke his eyes to the point where he couldn’t use them for a good while. In short, Niragi was left completely blind, and Aguni now had to deal with an increasingly whiny and temper hearty baked bean burrito. Hatter found it funny, but oh boy was it wearing out his poor fried dumpling.

It also left quite a hole in the defense for the intruders, so the issue of Aguni and Niragi was also an issue for the safety of the Beach (and Hatter’s stuff) as a whole.

No point thinking about this now. Hatter leans back on the sofa, sipping at a cold blend of juices and relaxing. His feet were killing him right about now, Hatter flexing his stiff toes and internally begging for a good pedicure to fly in through the doors and give his feet a touch of heaven and bliss.

The door in fact does fly open as the thought passes his head, Hatter sitting up and raising an eyebrow as Niragi stands there, breathing heavily. The sunglasses Hatter has so graciously offered to him in order to make him both sexier and protect his eyes from the sunlight so he didn’t permanently damage them further was slipping slightly off his face, Niragi fixing them after a few more pants.

“ You…..! You fucking coconut slut!” Niragi rasps out, and Hatter quirks his eyebrow in mild amusement, leaning forward and sipping his juice quietly as one arm rested on his knee. Niragi points a finger in Hatter’s direction, if Hatter was 45 degrees to the left and standing. “ You fucking left me tied on that bed for an hour! What fucking gives!”

Hatter says nothing, as Niragi storms in….. and immediately slams into the back of the other couch, Hatter bursting into laughter. Niragi on the other hand starts spouting obscenities and kicks the couch, and the red cocktail man notices the lack of real gun in Niragi’s possession, other than the super soaker that was substituted. Aguni probably replaced it, knowing that a blind trigger happy man was a danger to society and himself.

“ What the fuck is this bull?! What- Oh for fucks sakes this isn’t Chishiya’s room is it.” Niragi finally sputters out, grabbing the top edge of the couch and massaging the soft cushions underneath his long fingers.

“ Oh, I wish I was. Now what was this about being tied to a bed, hm?” Hatter croons, which earns him a hearty middle finger.

“ Like heck am I about to tell you. Okay, let’s try this again-“ Niragi turns around, but Hatter whistles at him, Niragi slowly spinning back around to face Hatter’s general position. “ What is it, I don’t have all day lobster man.”

“ Aww, not even a minute? Well, it’s just a question. Aren’t you supposed to be accompanied until you regain your senses? After all, you have nothing to guide your way.”

“ Fuck that, I don’t know where Last Boss went and he won’t fucking speak up if he’s just been following me like a sneaky little bitch this entire time, and Aguni was called away for something!”

“ Oh?” Hatter leans back again, Niragi throwing his arms up in the air as he starts pacing and nearly running into stuff again.

“ Yeah! So then that tiny mozzarella cheese ball came and said he’d help because I just look sad and stupid wandering around by myself, which I don’t believe because I know he’d push me into the pool the first chance he got, and then suddenly I’m tied to a bed as he puts on a podcast of nothing but some random guy talking about wool! It was hell!”

“ Oooh, I see. How bad was it?”

“ Fucking terrible! I did not need a wool lecture, thank you very little! Who the fuck wants to know the fastest record to shear a sheep was 39 seconds!? Not me, that’s for fucking sure!” Niragi rants, Hatter nodding and grinning as he switches his juice out for the good wine he kept by his foot the entire time, pouring himself a decent amount and taking a slow sip as Niragi continued to rant onwards. At some point Niragi managed to find the couch again (because he stubbed his toe into it, leading to an extra twenty seconds of Niragi cursing out Hatter’s poor couch) and sat down, Hatter pushing a wine glass into Niragi’s hand and filling it. Niragi downed it like he was a war orphan waiting for his arm to be donated to the war effort, Hatter lightly tsking him for not savouring it properly.

It wasn’t Aguni or any of the girls, but Hatter could appreciate the gossip as Niragi continued without a filter in his mouth, the rant going from Chishiya’s wool podcast to anything else Niragi had heard in his blind boredom. He was impressed how much information Niragi was willing to dole out just to get his anger settled for the rest of the day, and Hatter was happily sipping away as he absorbed it all.

Finally Niragi had calmed down, just nursing the wine glass that Hatter just filled with chocolate cereal instead, as Niragi refused to drink his wine like it was good wine. It was a shame really, Hatter liked hearing about Niragi’s auditory bubble day.

“ Well wasn’t that cathartic!” Hatter chirped as Niragi mumbled around his glass of chocolate cereal, draped over the entire couch as if he wanted to become the couch lord. Or wanting to be painted like the best model in the world, whatever he wanted.

“ Yeah yeah, whatever.” Niragi tips cereal into his mouth just as the crackle of his walkie-talkie alerts him and Hatter. Niragi doesn’t bother to remove the device from his side, too busy eating his cereal as a voice comes through.

And oh boy, what a voice it was, Hatter tuning into it immediately.

“ ….. Testing, testing! Are you hearing me? Hi hi, it’s me, your local menace~ The one with the robe, remember me? Yeah! Hi, don’t mind me, okay? I’m just gonna….. borrow Mr. Beef Stew with extra beef for a few hours! For personal, very important reasons and definitely not because I got a replica statue of a cute dog stuck in a window and now I can’t get it out. Anyways, bye!” The rest becomes static as it disconnects, Niragi snorting a little as Hatter takes one deep breath.

“ Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Niragi, hand it over to me.”

“ You’re not my boss.” “ Yes, but I’m Aguni’s, so hand it over.”

Niragi grumbles, unclipping the walkie-talkie and tossing it in Hatter’s general direction, Hatter humming and pressing the button on the side.

“ Hello? Are you still there, you rascal?” Hatter leans in, pouring as much honey into his voice to lure them out.

“… Yep, still here! Hi, didn’t think you’d be there too Hatter.” “ Oh, I’m here, and I would like to kindly know where you and your little friends are. As a little house visit~” There was a chuckle on the other end. “ Oh, sorry sorry, but I can’t. We can always come over and visit though, even if it’s for a brief moment!” “ Is that so…. Well, you wound me so, you know!” Hatter puts a hand on his chest. “ For you to not even offer me the same respect, ah it hits me right here that you can’t even trust me~”

“ Sorry! Anyways, gotta go, got things to do, got stuff to move with Aguni, who was nice enough to help us.”

“ At your base? Well, what’s stopping me from asking him for directions later for a surprise visit one of these days, maybe have a meet and greet with my beloved stolen items?”

“ Not anywhere near our base, we’re not that dumb my dear red bean paste~ Don’t worry, we’ll return your man in….. 3-5 business days maybe okay byeeeeeeeee-“ The line goes completely dead, and Hatter stares at the black box.

Those cursed beings, they’ve gone too far. Too far.

[swan-of-sunrise]

The Winter Soldier (Chapter Four)

Summary: (Y/N) and Sam worry about their new super-soldier friend after it’s revealed that he’s on the run and wanted by S.H.I.E.L.D., the very agency he’d dedicated himself to.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Four (Previous Chapter)

“It’s such bullshit! Captain America’s a criminal now?!”

“I know, Greg.”

“They haven’t even said what he’s done!”

“Yep, it’s ridiculous…”

“How can they organize a manhunt for him but not say what he’s supposedly done?!”

(Y/N) pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a frustrated groan. “Greg, you’re my friend and I love you but I can’t keep having this conversation with you.”

The line was silent for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve been having the exact same conversation for almost a half an hour! You can’t believe that Cap’s a criminal, I agree, you complain that they haven’t said what he’s wanted for, I agree, then you start going all ‘Law and Order’ on me!” She exclaimed, immediately regretting her outburst; with a sigh, she sat down in her desk chair and rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry, Greg, that was rude. I don’t like what’s going on either; Captain America stands for freedom and honor, he always has, and it just seems…wrong that he’s the subject of a manhunt. I seriously doubt that Captain America of all people did anything to break the law.”

“Wow, when did you become such a big Cap fan?”

“I went to his exhibit when I was at the Air and Space Museum yesterday, and I guess it got me interested.” (Y/N) half-lied, fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweater as she pressed her phone closer to her ear. “Anyway, the reason I called was to tell you that it might take me a little longer to get the draft of my book to you; I still need to look over the last couple of chapters and with everything happening…it might be hard to focus on writing today.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mike’s busy reading through a nine-hundred-page thriller that was sent in this morning so that’ll give you some time. Sorry to cut this short but I’ve gotta go, I have to check on mine and Mara’s dinner reservation for tonight, so I’ll talk to you later, (Y/N)!”

“Talk to you later, Greg!” (Y/N) hung up and set her cell phone down on the desk with a sigh. Ever since she and Sam turned on the television at breakfast and saw the breaking news, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong; Steve Rogers wouldn’t be on the run from S.H.I.E.L.D. unless he had a damn good reason to be. I’m sure he’s fine, he’s probably been through much tougher scrapes than this, she thought to herself with forced optimism as she turned on her laptop and began typing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Humming along to Billy Joel’s ‘Movin’ Out’, (Y/N)’s fingers flew across her keyboard as she typed and she smiled, proud of the fact that her writer’s block from the week before was now officially over and that she was so close to completing her very first novel. Not bad, not bad at all, she thought, hitting the ‘save’ button and stretching her arms over her head to relieve the build-up tension in her shoulders.

“Now this is good music, Booksmart!”

She spun her desk chair around to see Sam standing in the doorway of her bedroom and raised her eyebrow as she turned down her music. “Oh, so Billy Joel’s okay but everything else I listen to is garbage?”

Sam gave her a teasing eye-roll. “I never said that your music was garbage, I just said it was weird. How’s the writing going today?”

“I edited twelve pages and just spent an hour trying to describe a Soviet Cold War-era missile, so it’s been okay. How was work?”

“It was good, I didn’t have any meetings scheduled so I spent most of the day playing chess with the old timers. I swear, I think Gary cheats but I can’t figure out how he does it…”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Or maybe you should just accept the fact that you’re terrible at chess and the old timers take great pleasure in seeing you lose.”

“Ha, ha, very funny. You still cool with driving me to the shop to pick up my car?”

(Y/N) got up, turning off her computer and unplugging her MP3 player from her speaker with a grin. “Of course! Driver picks the music, though!” She laughed and practically skipped out of the room as Sam let out a groan of defeat and followed her. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Birdbrain, it’s not like I’m making you listen to a CD of ambient throat singing!”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if you had some of that…”

Five minutes later, they were on the road and the two of them were singing along to her one of Panic! At The Disco’s newest singles at the top of their lungs; out of the corner of her eye she could see other drivers shooting them odd looks but she couldn’t care less, she was enjoying herself far too much.

Sam chuckled as the song came to a finish. “Damn, their new album is good. You know, I didn’t start listening to alt-rock until I met you.”

“Then you should be thanking me for bringing such good music into your life!” Giggling, (Y/N) turned down the volume and glanced over at the cheerful man sitting beside her, her smile faltering as she asked, “Do you think he’s okay, Sam?”

Her roommate’s expression grew serious and he shook his head. “I really don’t know. I saw on CNN earlier that inside sources claim he’s wanted by S.H.I.E.L.D. in connection to the assassination of their director, but I don’t buy it. The guy we’ve met, who’s so dedicated to his job that he hasn’t bothered getting a life outside of it, wouldn’t be a part of something like that. I think something else’s up and I’ll bet anything he’s out there trying to figure it out.”

(Y/N) bit her bottom lip, nodding after a moment. “Yeah, me too.”

“Just you wait, this whole mess with S.H.I.E.L.D.’ll be cleared up in no time. I’m calling it right now, Steve’s gonna ride up to the VA on his motorcycle and dramatically whisk you off your feet, and the two of you are gonna ride off into the sunset together while one of those sappy love songs you pretend not to like plays in the background.” Sam's teasing smirk widened when her cheeks flushed. “C’mon, Booksmart, you both were mooning over each other like teenagers after the meeting yesterday; I felt like I was in the live studio audience of a soap opera taping.”

“You know, I could always kick you out of the car and make you walk all the way to the shop, if you'd prefer.”

“And I'd still get there before you ‘cause you drive like a grandma...”

Soon after, she pulled into the auto repair shop’s lot, parking under the shade of a tree before turning to Sam with a smile. “Did you want me to stay just in case your car isn’t ready yet?”

“That would be great, actually, thanks!” Sam gave her a grin before getting out of the car and heading into the shop.

(Y/N) rolled down the windows and sighed when she felt the soft spring breeze against her skin. Taking advantage of the peaceful moment, she let her imagination wander and began brainstorming different stories and characters in her head. You should probably finish the book you’re writing before you start on another one, she thought with a playful eye-roll. Her childhood dream of becoming a published author was in the middle of coming true, and she couldn’t be any happier about it.

Just then, her eyes drifted to a silver truck that was driving past the parking lot. It was going fast so she couldn’t get a very good look at the driver, but for a split second she could have sworn that the man driving the truck had the same blonde hair and chiseled jaw as Steve Rogers. Chalking it up to worry for the runaway super-soldier, she closed her eyes and murmured, “Whatever he’s up to, I hope that he’s staying safe.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BenknAqQQnOWY8NmSa23V

Tagging: @mrs-obrien​ @lahoete​ @awkward117​ @cminr​ @momc95​ @awkwardnesshabitat​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @khuang3​ @supersouthy​ @benakenalove​ @brooke0297​ @hufflepeople​ @becausewelie​​ @outoftheregular @supreme-tantrum​

Chapter Five

“The Winter Soldier” Masterlist

[nerdified]

Procedural Notes: Patient #3 (FKA Hugo Jensen)

NOTE: [At the time of this audio recording, Mr. Hugo Jensen (NKA Norville Nerdlinger) has just begun the process, and is restrained. The identity of the speaker is unknown. This transcript is reproduced here in order to assist with identification of this man, who has since disappeared, absconding with an undisclosed amount of the process agonist. Efforts to locate him have, to date, been fruitless. If anyone knows anything about this man or his whereabouts, please report the information to Central Command.]

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

Quiet, now. It’s no use struggling.

I’m not going to hurt you. Quite the opposite.

I see that look in your eyes, like you don’t think I could hurt you. You’re probably right. I’m not much of a fighter. But I know what you think of me, and other guys like me. I’ve been listening to you on the phone, you know. Hacked your telecommunications. What was it that you called me, on that call with the client yesterday?

Oh, yes, I remember. A walking pocket protector. I’ll admit, that was a new one for me. I’ve had “pencil-neck” and “four-eyes” and the good old-fashioned “nerd” lobbed at me before, but “walking pocket-protector”… Heck, it’s got a little poetry to it!

Shh. I know, it feels strange. It’s a little unsettling, at first, I’ll agree. But you’ll get used to it. It’ll go easier for you if you just relax and quit fighting it. In time, you’ll even begin to like it.

I’m sorry about the gag. Unfortunately, it’s just the beginning of the process, so I have to leave it in for…twenty-three more minutes, at least, if my calculations are correct.

Ha! Who am I kidding – my calculations are always correct.

I can see from your eyes that you hate my guts right now. That, too, will change.

You see, what’s about to happen to you isn’t out of the ordinary, or even very noteworthy. As far as I can tell, it happens to a lot of guys, especially those that zip through their twenties and then hit that speed bump called thirty, bank accounts empty and career opportunities shot. Those of us who didn’t win the genetic lottery couldn’t get by just on our looks and our charisma, like you did.

I remember how it felt when I was in high school, and guys like you were all A+ students and perfect jocks, too… gosh, it’s enough to make me swear.

But no. You couldn’t leave well enough alone. You couldn’t just be a jock, be good at sports, and leave the academics to the rest of us. We didn’t ask for much, you know. We just wanted to be left alone in our science labs, and in our tutorials, in our lives.

There's no escaping guys like you. You’re everywhere, and you’re spreading. For a time, we ignored it. Figured it was some kind of anomaly. But it wasn’t – it was a trend. And despite the fact that we didn’t see it coming, we are now prepared for its end.

Like I mentioned – it won’t surprise most people to see you change. Maybe a few of your close friends will worry about you. Express some concern. But by that point, you’ll already have accepted your new self. You’ll be able to say “This is just who I am,” and it’ll be their choice how to proceed. That’s a side benefit, by the way, of the process. You get to find out who your real friends are – and, spoiler alert: they’re not exactly big football fans.

You have to be prepared for some major shake-up in your life, though. The good thing about the process is that it won’t faze you in the slightest. Everything will be gee-whiz gosh-darn super-duper spiffy keen neat-o, if anyone asks, and for you, it will be.

Now, I know those terms are a little outdated. We’ve had to make a bit of an adjustment to the process in your case. The earlier version wasn’t quite strong enough for you, so we’ve had to over-compensate in a few directions. You won’t just be a little bit nerdy, you know, a couple of odd quirks, some new hobbies. For example, Derek – well, that’s his dead name, he goes by Derwood now – Derwood can sometimes get by in normal society. He even kept a few of his old friends. He’s just more into things like superhero movies, and he’s left behind all knowledge or passion for sports. I think I even saw him reading a comic book the other day, come to think of it.

But that’s not going to be you. Oh, sure, you might develop a taste for superhero movies, but if you do, it won’t just be a passing interest. You’ll become a rabid fan. I believe…obsessive…is the operative word, in fact. Yes, you see, that earlier version of the process would have worn off, and you’d have been back to your old self in no time, which would wreak havoc on your psyche, not to mention put our entire operation in jeopardy. We can’t have that.

It looks like some time has passed, but not quite enough for me to remove the gag yet. Do you feel your perfect white teeth shifting around in your gums, almost impatiently? Nod once for yes.

You don’t have to nod at all, not if you don’t want to. I don’t need you to confirm for me what I can already see happening in your eyes. Speaking of your eyes – how’s your vision? I can see you starting to squint every now and then. Trying to see past that blur? Don’t worry. I’ve already got your glasses, right here, for when it gets too bad for you to see. Talk about your Coke-bottle lenses - my calculations again predict that you’ll settle somewhere around…hm…negative six diopters, which is even worse than mine.

To put it simply: you won’t even be able to read the big E on the eye chart without your glasses on.

I know, you’ve never been to the optometrist in your life. You never needed to. And don’t think about getting contact lenses, either. I mean, go ahead and try, if you really want to embarrass yourself.

Oh, I can see it now: timid, nerdy little guy like you, shuffling into the doctor’s office – you say you want to get contact lenses, and they get you in the back for a fitting. They show you how to do it, you know, hold your eyelids apart and then just plop the lens on there. But you have to do it three times before they’ll let you leave with them, and you won’t even be able to get one in, because you’ll keep blinking it out. I wish I could be there to see it, honestly – you, all frustrated, trying to swear, but only able to say things like “Fudge!” and “Gosh darn it!”

It’ll be so beautiful. I’m getting teary just thinking about it.

I’m glad you’re starting to settle down a bit. Let me know when you need your glasses. Maybe while we wait, I’ll get started on your hair. That trendy fade has got to go, and so does that scruff on your face. At the start, you’ll have to shave a lot, but as the process continues, you’ll start producing more of a 5-alpha reductase enzyme. This will convert your testosterone into dihydrotestosterone, or DHT, which will actually miniaturize your follicles. Kind of like using a shrink ray on them! Oh, and there will be no taking of inhibitors, like finasteride or anything like that – our process contains a potent agonist, with an affinity of 0.25 to 0.5 nM for the human androgen receptor.

It’s all very scientific, I assure you. And with the miniaturization of your follicles, your sebaceous glands will begin to over-produce sebum, which results in – you guessed it! Acne. Pimples. Zits. I know you’ve never had to deal with that before, so I’m just preparing you for it now. Pizza-face, I think the popular nickname is. Get ready for a lot of that.

Let’s see…what else can I tell you.... Gosh, this is kind of like the orientation for a new job, isn’t it? Ah, yes. I know. Speaking of jobs...

Yeah, this is the tough part. It’s all very natural, I assure you. Just like with your friends, your co-workers will come to see you in a different way. I know you have quite a few cutthroat underlings who would eat one another alive to get your corner office, and the moment they sense you’re not as much of a threat as you used to be, they’ll swarm.

I give it two weeks, tops, until you’re gone. If you choose that road. Or you could make it much easier on yourself and resign. You won’t be financially ruined – not with all that new information surging through your brain – you’ll be an asset to the right company, the right department. Maybe IT will take you. Or accounting. Maybe you won’t work corporate. Maybe you’ll work retail.

God, that’s cruel even for me. I wouldn’t wish retail on anyone, even a jerk like you. But there’s no telling what could happen. For all I know, once the process has completed, you could end up one of those Geek Squad guys at Best Buy! Have you seen the uniform they have to wear? It’s company-mandated dress code. You’ve seen them, haven’t you? White, short-sleeve, button-down shirt. Black polyester clip-on necktie; black, pleated trousers; black lace-up shoes…and white socks. Yes, white socks, kept completely spotless and bright. All this is enforced, too, with routine inspections, to make sure you’re being compliant!

You see, there’s really an infinity of possibilities for you. If anything, this is a new chance for you – a fresh start. I know it feels scary, all this change. But change is the only constant. Everything is always in flux. Heck, every seven years, your entire body regenerates – every cell is new and different, so why shouldn’t your personality and identity change, too?

It’s logical, isn’t it? Nod once for yes.

Good! You’re starting to come around, aren’t you? Like I said, it won’t be so bad if you just accept it. If you don’t fight it. That sudden urge to position your tongue up behind your teeth when you say ess. Eth. Eth. How your voice keeps breaking, and in the most unfortunate ways, and at the most unfortunate times – all of this is being etched into your muscle memory as I speak to you.

There isn’t much longer now until I can remove your gag, and I can see that the physical alterations are beginning. Too bad all that hard work at the gym all these years is so easily eroded by our process, but then, those muscles were mostly for show, weren’t they? Well, no longer. It isn’t exactly sarcopenia, but it’s close. You’ll be at least one and a half, possibly two, standard deviations below the relevant population mean, and no amount of exercise will restore your former abilities.

Yes, the ropes are looser now, because you’re much smaller. Rapid onset muscle deterioration. You could struggle out of them. Maybe you could even escape. You could try. But there’s no way you’d make it very far without your glasses. Who would believe you, anyway? What would you even say?

Like I said, you might as well give in. It’s not so bad, once you get used to it. And you’ll have me. I’ll be with you for the whole beginning process, so you can acclimate to your newly nerdy life. You won’t be able to continue living in that luxe apartment you’ve got – no, you’ll be moving into a nice little basement apartment I’ve got fixed up for you, in the suburbs outside the city. The landlords have just got it refurbished, with some nice wood paneling, and there’s a spare twin bed that should be just your size! There’s also tons of room on the walls to put up all your posters. You won’t need much room for anything else, really. You definitely won’t be needing that enormous closet of tailored, fitted button-down shirts, or all those sneakers, definitely not those expensive Under Armour boxer-briefs. What a waste. No, the new you is way more frugal with his money, seeing as he’s paid so little of it. The new you doesn’t even think that much about clothes, or fashion.

This must be a lot to handle. Maybe I should have a little mercy on you.

Tell you what. I’ll let you choose your underwear. How’s that, pal? That make you feel any better? Nod once for yes.

See, I’m not that bad. That’s right. So, here. You can choose…Hanes, or Fruit of the Loom?

Oh, I see. You thought I meant what kind of underwear. Haha, no. You’ll be wearing tighty-whities from now on. Sorry, them’s the rules. Besides, you won’t need much support…down there, if you catch my drift!

Don’t look so horrified. You won’t even notice that it’s gone. Mostly. You’ll still have some length, just, you know, not a lot. You won’t be able to call it a “cock” or a “dick” ever again, either. Oh, look how cute – you’re blushing just hearing me say it! You might call it something else, like your ding-a-ling, or your wiener.

Okay, okay, I can tell you’re getting embarrassed, you’ve gone all red and blotchy in your cheeks. We don’t have to talk about the … “no-no place” anymore, little buddy.

All right. Here’s your glasses. I’ll just set them on your nose, for you…there. Wow, they sure do make your eyes look tiny!

I can tell you’re getting near to the end of the process, and I���m curious to see how big your two front teeth have gotten. From that bump in your upper lip…gosh, it looks like you might be giving Bugs Bunny a run for his money!

You’ve really been behaving better, so I’ll bring you a mirror, okay? So you can see for yourself. I must say, it’s already quite the improvement. I wasn’t expecting your hair to turn so red, or get so curly. Maybe if you can’t get a job at Best Buy, you could run away and join the circus as a clown!

I’m just horsing around with you, pal. Don’t pass out on me. You promise not to scream? I hate it when they scream. Nod once for yes.

You’re a little excited, aren’t you? It’s okay. You can tell me. I bet you get a little more excitable than you used to. Maybe you even get a little clumsy, with the loss of all that hand-eye coordination. Trip over your own two feet and go sprawling.

But who knows. There’s so much potential.

And you’re just the beginning, too. Let’s just say that my proposal for introducing you to the process wasn’t well-received by Central. What do they know? They have this power, and they don’t use it. Well, you snooze, you lose, by golly! If you have a gift, you use it, otherwise it goes to waste.

Anyway. Enough of the supervillain speech. You don’t need to know anything more. It’ll probably be wiped out in the massive crush of nerdy trivia about Star Trek and Star Wars that’s going to download into your brain soon, anyway.

So, this is it. Are you ready to see? Nod once for yes, and I’ll pull the cloth off this mirror here.

Alrighty, dweeb, you asked for it. Here goes.

Say salutations to the new you!

[END TRANSCRIPT]

[pippytmi]

ceo!au + enemies to lovers + is that the best you can do. Please thank you

“You have a real mean way about you.”

Click. Click. Click. The lighter refuses to do its job; Lena finally just places the unlit cigarette between her lips and inwardly bemoans her luck. What are the odds—a pissed off Kara Danvers, a lighter that won’t light, and to top it all off, the faint bass from inside sounds suspiciously like the electronic music she’d told the DJ not to play.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” Lena says dryly. “How did you get past security?”

Kara comes up beside her; Lena tracks her in the corner of her eye. “Your security isn’t very good,” she replies simply.

“Figures.” Lena turns, then, and leans as lightly as she can against the metal railing. “Your manners aren’t very good either. No hello?”

“We don’t say hello to each other.” Kara looks more disheveled than Lena has ever seen her. Tie undone, white shirt wrinkled where it tucks into her pants, bun of hair unkempt. For a moment she says nothing more; Lena watches as she rests her elbows against the railing, shoulders taut with tension. “I’m tired,” she declares suddenly. “Of fighting with you.”

Lena sighs, rolls her cigarette between her thumb and forefinger and wishes it were lit. “That's all we do,” she says. “We fight each other. You cause trouble for me, I cause trouble for you…” 

“You stole my merger with Edge.” Kara’s voice is quiet, but as bitter as expected. She asks no questions, makes no probing inquiry, just states the fact hollowly.

“I did you a favor,” Lena says flippantly. “He would have severely underpaid you.”

“So you decided to—what, exactly? Make sure he paid you more?” Now there is anger sharpening at the edges of Kara’s words, but not a dangerous kind of anger. It is a muted kind, one more self-directed.

A weariness makes itself known in Lena’s chest, heavy and confusing. “Yes,” she says. She has no qualms of stealing mergers from anyone, but somehow this time…this time, she feels a bit of pity. “He was making a fool out of you, Kara.  I stepped in, blackmailed him a little, and then he doubled his offer. That's how business works. You wouldn't know it because you're too naive, but—”

“Oh, I’m naive?” Kara laughs, but unkindly. Her expression is pinched; she makes a move to run her fingers through her hair, but it’s still somewhat upright, so she settles for clenching her hand into a fist. “Forgive me for trying to be a good person and not a cutthroat bitch.”

“There is no place for good people in our line of work.” Lena has long since mastered an impressive poker face, and she tries her best to remain impassive when she adds, “I suggest you get used to it. And while you're at it, you can make your way out of my house.” That seems to spark some kind of guilt—Kara slumps against the railing with a low, empty sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Kara apologizes lowly. “I didn’t mean that. I don’t think you’re a bitch at all.”

“I’ve heard worse.” Lena, in order to not see the look on Kara’s face, tries the lighter again. This time a flame emerges, flickering in the wind, thin and shaking. But it lights her cigarette all the same. “Do you smoke?” Only then does her gaze lift, and she sees Kara watching, now straightened to her full height.

“No.” Kara places her hands in her pockets, shifts sideways slightly. She is taller than Lena, and Lena inwardly berates herself for not wearing heels tonight. “Why?”

“Well I was going to offer you a cigarette, but I guess I won’t.” Lena takes a slow drag, feels her body warm with it. Smoking is a habit she can't seem to quit, and it's her one vice she's actually ashamed about. “Unless you want one anyway.”

Kara shakes her head. “No, I’d probably choke,” she declines. “It wouldn’t be very attractive.” The wind picks up; a few tendrils of hair that have escaped from her bun brush over her forehead, and she makes no move to tuck them away. “Knowing you, you would use that as blackmail for me next.”

Lena inhales smoke and sighs. “I already have enough blackmail material on you, Kara Danvers,” she says. This, too, is a fact.

“You do? Like what?”

“Like…I know you took over your cousin's company because of a kidnapping scandal involving your nephew.” Lena takes immense pleasure in the way Kara's eyes darken dangerously; she has always suspected there was some steel under that goody-goody exterior. “Clark Kent must have paid a pretty penny to the press to keep his little boy out of the papers.”

“That has nothing to do with me,” Kara says sharply.

Lena shrugs. “It's not bad blackmail material,” she points out. “Everyone loves a good sacrifice story. It would make you look heroic if it came to light.”

“It would put Clark and his family in danger.” Kara’s face twists into the harshest kind of disgust—the kind Lena expects. 

“Then you better hope I never have a reason to use it against you,” Lena says airily, stubbing her cigarette out; even smoking can’t bring her joy right now. Something about the way Kara stares at her—disappointedly—makes her skin crawl.

Kara takes a step towards Lena. They’ve gravitated close already, but this is deliberate. Her eyes, blue and sharp, are locked entirely on Lena’s. “Right,” she says. “Is that the best you can do? Threaten my family?”

Lena tilts her head up to meet her gaze head-on. “That’s just the surface of the knowledge I have on you,” she warns, and she leans in now, tugging at the undone knot of Kara’s tie. Kara comes when she is pulled, though she swallows hard enough that it’s audible.

“What else?” Kara asks. She breathes in tune with Lena now, their faces mere inches from each other.

“I also know…” Lena has more details about Kara Danvers. She does. But right now there’s one glaring fact right in front of her—one that is all too delicious to pass up. “I know that you want to kiss me right now.”

Kara stiffens; Lena feels it in the resistance of her tie. She jerks away a beat later, cheeks red and jaw clenched, to put some distance between them. “That’s,” she breathes out. “That is—” She can’t seem to be able to string her words together. “There you go again, with the mean streak. It’s not nice.”

“I thought we established I’m not nice,” Lena reminds her, an odd pang settles in the bottom of her stomach. “At least, not to anyone who poses a threat to Luthor Corp.”

“I’m not a threat to you or your company.”

“It’s not personal, Kara,” Lena says, and wishes she hadn’t put out her cigarette. “I have appearances to keep. You understand—it’s politics, all of it. Business politics.”

“So you hate me because I’m your competition?” Kara frowns. “Just like that?”

“I don’t hate you.” And as she confesses it, Lena realizes that it’s true. That maybe—maybe for once—she is also tired of fighting. “Even though I would like to, I don’t.”

“You want to hate me?” Something in Kara’s voice is raw, hopeful, and it hurts to hear. “Why?”

“I’m Lena Luthor. I’m supposed to be selfish and self-centered, remember? That’s the image everyone wants.” Fuck it; Lena reaches for her lighter again. But before she can, Kara’s hand covers hers.

“For the record,” Kara says, “I don’t hate you either.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Lena quips, casting an uncomfortable glance towards the balcony doors. Inside the party rages on, and no one is witnessing this show of weakness, but it doesn’t feel right. Lena feels exposed; there is no coming back from this,

Kara smiles and it’s faint, but a smile nonetheless. And for all her shortcomings—the messy state of her evening wear, the stubborn shade of blue of her eyes—Lena has to suck in a breath when Kara leans in. Her hand rests on Lena’s cheek, her skin frozen and her touch overwhelmingly gentle.

“You were right,” Kara says quietly. “I did want to kiss you tonight.” Her thumb traces a slow, steady path down Lena’s jaw, and Lena feels her heart hiccup. Then Kara surprises her—she leans in enough to brush a kiss to Lena’s cheek softly, cold breath exhaling against her skin. “You can add that to your blackmail list, too,” she says, stepping away, and when she places her hands in her pockets this time it’s with a sense of finality.

Lena almost lets her leave. But her heart thumps loudly in her ears and clouds her judgement entirely; she pulls Kara back, says “Wait—” and not much else, because then Kara is kissing her properly. Or maybe she is kissing Kara, winding her arms around Kara’s neck and squeezing her close because she fears the moment she will have to let go.

Kara is the first to break away. For a moment all she does is gaze down at Lena, bewildered, and says nothing. Then: “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to react.”

Lena bites her lip. “You could exploit this,” she says, “and use it as blackmail against me.”

“Right…or?”

“Or,” and Lena smooths out the collar of Kara’s shirt, which seems to be stained with some kind of liquor. “You could kiss me again.”

“Well, blackmail does sound fun.” And then Kara is smiling, soft and ridiculously wide, and Lena knows everything has changed.

[hobbitsnapes]

The Red Hoods Protègè chapter 22

Older Damian Wayne x ofc

(Photo made by my lovely friend @iamhollows)

A/N: thanks to my lovely friend @geekonaleash, who wrote majority of the letters, I was able to put this out for you guys.

Summary:Red hood has taken a young vigilante under his wing and subsequently changes Damians life forever.

Tags: @comic-nerd-dc c @comic-brew @psychovigilantewrites @psych0crybaby

Weeks go by of the same routine, taking odd jobs and small cases from her father with little to no hiccups.

It was easy, almost too easy. She had taken on the likes of croc and bane just some months ago, now dealing with petty thefts and bank robbers. She longed for the night she could truly test her skills, whether that be in her fighting or brains.

That night came on a chilly November night.

Her heart raced in her chest as she rounded the alley, her body cold to the core from the deep winter air. Hardly any snow lay on the ground, mostly turned to a dark brown slush that made a God awful noise against her boots.

Her legs felt like they would give out any second, having run through the street practically the entire night in the freezing cold.

She spotted a dumpster up ahead, willing her legs to go a bit further. ‘Just a few minutes’ she thought as she sat down behind it.

It was late, nearly 3 in the morning. Having been out since 8, her body freezing cold making any and all energy in her body disapste.

Her heart sank to her stomach when she saw it, making her eyes widen as she got up.

There, at the opening of the dumpster, lay a hand.

She inspected the body for a split moment, to the best of her ability. Having it been thrown in, trash covering it almost completely.

She knows this is a bad idea, but her curiosity gets the best of her as she pulls it from the dumpster, laying it in a heap on the ground.

From the looks of their clothes, or better yet lack thereof, she’s able to tell it's a prostitute. Long blonde hair a tangled mess as her clothes torn.

The most notable wound being a slash to her throat, that bled down to her chest.

The cut wasn’t deep but torn, the skin fraying like ripped denim. A serrated knife, or a sawing motion from a dull blade. She tries not to think of the immense pain that was caused, even with the cut not being very long. They were left to bleed out, or the killer watched as the Poor woman choked and tried screaming out from the pain, only being able to cough up blood.

“What in the?” She whispers when she sees it, a piece of paper?

She grabs for it from under her top, looking it over and, what?

It almost resembled a riddle, her mind flashing momentarily to the green wearing man before she remembered. Riddler never does kills like these, especially with the body being hidden. His is always a show, a way to get attention. This was sloppy, definitely the persons first.

She took one last look to the body, before making a call to the GCPD, telling them the coordinates. She looked one last time at the letter, before folding it, tucking it into her jacket. Well, here’s her chance she’s been waiting for.

She takes a seat at her desk, lamp set on the letter as she peers down at it.

society mocks those who be different, who dwell in the dark like the shadow of a once bright star, only to cry out when the star be a comet, painting the streets in scarlet and ash. You’ll find the next body where care is to be given, but only to let them die in the end.

What does this mean? She thinks as she reads over the words. Who dwell in the dark like the shadow of a once bright star. They must’ve been someone of status of some kind, whether it be from wealth, family or great skill and achievements, who had everything ripped either by their own doing or another.

only to cry out when the star be a comet, painting the streets in scarlet and ash. They must blame others for what happened to them, and subsequently for loosing their status, so they’re desperate for the game and notoriety they were used to, but from whatever trauma they went through, it broke them. Causing immense anger and rage to fill them, warping their mind, thus the killings. They’re so angry at the world, they want fear, and to cause others the pain they must feel the world brought them.

Her heart drops when she hears her door open, shoving the letter into her desk as she turns around.

“Hey you busy at all?” Tim asks, “no why?” She lies, hoping to God that her voice won’t give her away.

Either he didn’t notice, or chose not to ask as he sits on her bed, her joining him immediately after.

They sit and idly chat about their day, but her mind keeps playing over the letter. What does all this mean? Why is-her questions stop when she looks up, seeing him looking at her in question. “You alright?” He asks. “Yeah why?” “You just seem, out of it. You sure you’re feeling alright?” She sighs at this, truly wanting to ask him to help, but in her gut, she knows that’s the easy way out. He would be able to crack it in seconds, fully able to get the profile on the man easily. She wanted to prove to her father that, she could actually do this on her own. Which is why, she had to lie. “Yeah, sorry just really tired. The cold really made tonight way harder.” A soft smile player on his lips at this. “Well then in that case, I’ll leave you to sleep, and maybe look at upgrading your suit to make it warmer. How’s that sound?” Her heart warms at this, a smile on her face. “That'd be great, thank you.” “Hey no problem, I’ve had to do it so many times, it takes me a few days at most.” He chuckles. She pulls him in for a hug, hey arms wrapping around his shoulders before pulling away.

She gets under her covers as he walks out, a smile on his face as he shuts her light out.

She gets up as soon as he shuts the door, walking quietly back to her desk, pulling out the letter.

She knew she had to do this by herself she thought, as she got her notepad out and got to work.

After reading and deciding the letter, she was able to figure out where the next body would be. The Gotham general hospital. And she knew, this body wouldn’t be hard to find.

And she was right, as soon as she finished the few cases her father sent her on, she got straight to making her way to the hospital. For once thankful for the simple missions he would put her on.

She was right to her suspicion, finding the body directly on the roof of the hospital. Sprawled out was a nurse, who was just as gruesome as the last. A stab wound to the heart. Blood soaked her scrubs, making the soft blue a deep, almost blackened purple. Her eyes wide in horror, set like stone to gaze up to the sky.

And as she knew, there was a letter in her pocket.

She quickly grabbed for the letter, calling the GCPD once again, before leaving.

‘An open casket filled with treasures In one sudden move of utmost pleasures. Sweet cries of the poor carer, Thinking someone cared was her error. You’ll find the body where people gather to see history, not knowing history be made there.’

Something happened to them, something that made their fall from fame so breaking, it broke them in the process.

It not only broke them physically, but emotionally. They hated the care from the hospital and the staff. They were strong, powerful, capable. They were hurt and had to get help for a while, something they loathed. They were probably an athlete, relying on their bodies for their fame.

You’ll find the body where people gather to see history, not knowing history be made there. History, a school? No, that’s not right. History, that word stuck out in her mind.

She quickly got out her laptop, and within a few minutes, she found the Gotham Museum of Antiquities.

She turned back to the letter, setting it flat to her desk.

She ran her fingers over the writing, feeling the harsh indents from the pressure of the pen. It was shaky, the deep indents feeling jagged. They were hurt, humiliated by what happened, causing rage to fill them. They felt such anger that, she could feel it in how hard they wrote. This wasn’t a psychopath, no, this was someone deeply hurt, driven mad.

She wrote all this down as she went, setting the papers over her desk in as neat of a pile that she could.

She quickly set it all into her desk, making sure they were all in an order. She had to make sure nobody would come in, or else, they might find all of this.

It was highly irstional, to think that any of them would go hunting in her room. But the fear of them doing so, kept her up most of the night.

She came up with yet another lie, faking being too ill to go out the next night. Her father concerned for the believable cough she let out, finally being calmed once she told him she was going to stay in that night.

She felt bad, truly. She hated keeping not only a secret, but lying to both her father and her best friend. But she knew this would give her more time, and having her soul focus on this one case.

She waited to hear them leave for over 15 minutes before she readied herself, making sure to leave her door locked.

They all at least knew that, if it was locked, not to enter unless emergency, even then, it would have to be the manor burning down.

She climbed out her window, making sure to listed in to where Alfred was before she made the trip from her high window.

‘So this is what most teenagers feel when they sneak out the house.’ She thought as she got down to the cold ground. Snow had finally fallen in a large heap over the city, making her trip to where she hid her bike that morning harder. It’d be a dead giveaway she snuck out if she just walked through the snow, so it took her time to reach the shrub where her bike lay.

Finally managing to get out of the trees surrounding the manor, she made sure to shut any and all tracking devices she wore, before leaving.

“He’s getting bolder.” She whispered as she reached the museum. There, on the front steps of the old building, lay a man. A security guard to be exact.

She walked over to the man, crouching down to the body. Only this time, there was no stab wound to either his throat or to his chest. But blood looked underneath.

She turned the body around, finally seeing where the source of the blood came from. A deep stab wound to the mans upper back, nearly exposing his shoulder and spine.

She groaned out, reaching for her shoulder blades as memories of the healing played in her mind. To this day, any injury to the upper back or shoulders on another person sent her back, back to the worst time of her life.

Another note, placed in his front pocket pocket out.

She reached for it, tucking it into her jacket before standing up.

She froze in place when she saw them, her eyes trained on them as her heart slows. Prints in the snow nearly filled in, but still visible.

She crouched down to them, looking at each one closely.

They were almost filled in, so this had been taken place only some hours ago. Before the heavy blanket of snow hit.

The thing that stood out was the spacing and the pattern. They were jagged, almost slipping looking like.

The man had a limp. She thought, before standing beside them. She walked to recreate the steps, an evident limp in how they went. It was his right leg. Something happened here, and she thinks she knows what.

She sat at her desk, her blanket securely wrapped around her as she peered down to the letter.

‘It all ends with no more laughter, you’ll find the next body where families gather to watch stars be made on a Field, A trophy that can no longer be concealed’

It all ends with no more laughter. He was mocked, or he believed he was when maybe others looked at him with sympathy. In his eyes, it was them mocking him.

Where families gather to watch stars be made on a Field, A trophy that can no longer be concealed.

He was an athlete, had to be. A gasp leaves her lips as it hits her. Her heart drops to her stomach as she reached for her laptop, hurily turning it on as she writes down her thoughts.

Garrett Wilkins, star quarterback of the Gotham Rogues. Well, used to be.

Star in the game, having played it all his life from school to professional. He had everything. Fame, Wellth, everything.

That was until a fateful day in November, as he was walking out of the old museum with his longtime girlfriend, he was shot in the back.

He was able to make outstanding recovery, no longer wheelchair ridden like doctors thought. But he didn’t walk away how he was. He developed a bad limp, causing his team to kick him off.

Last people heard of him, was his girlfriend left him because of a rumored drinking problem.

This all took place 2 years ago.

She ran as fast as her legs took her, nearly falling over due to the thick snow on the ground.

Her heart hammered against her chest as she entered the arena, eyes searching around until she saw it. Her heart sank to her feet, as a pained sigh left her lips.

She thought she could make it in time, hoping, praying that she would be able to get there before him or when he was here. A small amount of hope that, she could save her.

She crouched down to her body, a tear slipping into her mask as a pained whimper left her lips.

She had hoped he wouldn’t have, but she knew, he would kill her.

“I’m so sorry Cass.” She cried, as she closed her wide eyes. Her body a bloody mess, nearly unrecognizable due to the many stab wounds that littered her body.

And again, like it was a call from a screaming Banshee, lay another letter.

Once more my face will grace your screen A star running on a field of green But now and forever my title I reclaim Never will I lose my newfound fame. You’ll find the next body where families go to play, to be surrounded by others as they watch their children’s play.

“God fucking damnit!” She exclaimed as she slammed her hand against her table, tears filling her eyes. She really, truly hoped she could make it in time. But sadly, she knew this would happen eventually. You can’t save everyone she thought.

Her feet carry her all the way to the park, her heart heavy in her chest from the memories flooding back.

She laughs out as he spins her around, nearly making him fall from both their laughter.

Their faces only inches apart as he sets her down, arms still around her as they gaze into one another’s eyes. Hearts beating at a steady rhythm.

Her eyes search around the park, head tilted slightly as she looks around.

There’s no body? Maybe he hid it? No, he definitely wouldn’t. He WANTS them to be found, wants the fame back on him. Hiding the body gives a chance that it won’t be found, a risk he’s not willing to take.

She rounded the corner, walking further into the snow. Where could it be? She thinks, before her heart stops, everything going black.

A sharp slap to her cheek wakes her up, a cry breaking past her lips. “Jesum dude, a safe word would be nice.” She groaned out. “Where is he?” He demands, hand grabbing a hold of her neck. Her hands and legs tied to the chair. Surprisingly, they felt pretty secure.

“Who?” She asks, anger evident in her voice. “I know you work with Red Hood, Batman, all of them! WHERE ARE THEY!” He screams in her face.

She starts laughing, causing him to grow even angrier. “WHATS SO FUNNY!” She can’t help but throw her head back in laughter. “They’re not coming.” His face falls momentarily, before turning angry once again. “What do you mean THEY'RE NOT COMING!” “I mean exactly that. They aren’t because they don’t know you exist. Only I know and that’s only because I found the first body by accident. All you want is the game again Garrett, well guess what, you lost. Not red hood, Batman, fuck even the GCPD know who you are. You, lost.”

He slams his fists into the table beside her, letting out a frustrated scream. “Fine. Well, I guess I can get fame some other way.” He says, grabbing a gun beside him. Her heart drops to her stomach, shutting her eyes as she waits for the bullet. But, the gunshot never came. The sound of the door breaking down and the man falling to the ground screaming drowned out any and all noise.

She hisses out at the burn of the alcohol on her cheek,trying to drown out the thick silence of the room. “You could’ve gotten killed you know. No correction, you were about to be killed before we came.” Says Jason, anger evident in his tone. Her heart pains in her chest as she looks away from her father. She knows he’s only angry because of fear. Fear that his daughter could’ve died.

“I mean how could you be so careless like that! You should’ve been able to hear him! God I fucking trained you better than that!” He yells, arms up in anger. Everyone stays silent as he rants, knowing not to step between them. Memories of how protective he gets with her, none of them dare to try.

“You could’ve died tonight. This is why I’ve only sent you on smaller cases. I’ll be DAMNED if my daughter gets fucking killed because she was reckless!” “Jason, stop it.” Says dick. Everyone’s heads whip to the man, holding their breaths. “Oh yeah, why should I. My daughter almost got herself killed!” “Because you and none of us have any room to talk. We all risk our lives everytime we go out there. You can’t sit here and scold her for messing up. You, me, Bruce, everyone in the room has slipped up at least a dozen times. So don’t stand there and yell at her when what she did was highly impressive, especially where all you taught her was combat.” He says to the younger man. Jason knows he’s right, lowering his head.

“I’m sorry but what? What was impressive?” She asks nobody in particular. “How you were able to figure that out in such a short amount of time.” Says Tim. “I’m sorry what? How was that impressive? And also, how did you guys find me? I turned off all my tracking devices.” She was completely lost. How is that impressive to a room of some of the worlds greatest detectives. And how in the hell did they find her? “I was worried about you. Last I heard from you was you were sick, and I hadn’t seen or heard anything for over a day. So I, went to go check and found you weren’t there. And, you left all your research on the table. I was able to figure out where he lived, and we all just went.” Says Tim. She wasn’t mad, actually grateful. “And to answer your other question, it’s impressive because, Jason never taught you any advanced detective skills. You not only figured out his letters, but where. And, you can naturally profile handwriting. None of us can do that on our own. It took years to even somewhat make a good guess. Which is why, we wanted to ask you something.” She looks at dick in question, trying to figure out what he meant. “We wanted to ask if you’d join us. Be a part of our team.” Says Bruce. She looks at all of them like they’re mad, before she could say anything, her father beat her to it. “They brought it up to me, and I think, it’s a good idea. Dicks right. You’ve got a lotta skill that they could really use. Especially the handwriting thing. Plus, it’ll be good to have others around just in case something happened. It’ll not only make me feel better knowing you’ve got backup, but I know it’ll give you more room to lean. I’ve, been to scared to let you go out and really test not only your fighting, but your smarts. And I’m sorry for that.”

Everyone’s eyes train on her, as they wait for her response. Even Damians eyes look to her. She lets out a sigh, looking to her father first, before to all of them. “Fine. But on one condition.”

“Wait, you're asking what?” “Exactly that. I’ll be a part of your little Scooby gang as long as if there’s no other option, that if it’s life or death for any of us or civilians, I take them out.” She says, arms crossed. “You’ve gotta be fucking-.”Damian says, before Bruce cuts him off. “Fine. But only, if I, or anyone of the others apart from your father give the okay to that.” Damian looks to his father, eyes wide in anger and disbelief. “Are you-“ “deal.” She says, extending her hand out to Bruce. They both shake on it, neither paying attention to Damian. “You’re all okay with this?” He asks, anger still in his voice. “Didn’t you hear what they agreed on? She won’t do it unless one of us says she can.” Says Tim. “And we need her skills Damian.” Dick replies, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re all fucking crazy.” He says, heart beating wildly in his chest, walking away from everyone.

[voorbeees]

[ me, writing a decent fic? impossible! Anyway here’s a fic about Jesse adopting a kid that I got kind of carried away with but i don’t care. 

you can also read it here . Also don’t forget I take commissions. ]

The sharp hunting knife plunges into the woman's temple. It's a faster kill than he enjoys. Usually he'll bide his time, watching, waiting until he's spotted a piggy that suits him. Typically it's a cat and mouse game, dragged out for as long as possible. Psychological torture is the game. That accompanied by true torture, eventually.

Jesse has found himself becoming far more annoyed by Preston than usual, which is saying something, considering that the man makes him consider driving a knife into his own eye in order to end the conversation faster. After the latest whining spree, he's decided he's just going to kill him. Preston offers no value to himself or his organization anymore. Only he wants an audience when he does it. Set an example. No other employees voice opinions like him, but Jesse wants to make sure they remember who's in charge.

Chromeskull twists the knife in a fit of anger. God even thinking about him pisses him off. Another turn for good measure then he yanks the blade from the woman's head. It's a clean kill and for that he's sorry. She'd have been perfect for slicing and butchering. Whatever. It's done. The night is still young and there's still plenty of piggies to find.

He swaggers back to his Chrysler 300 to retrieve a body bag. Once he's back, Jesse stuffs the body in the bag and slings it over his should as if he's done this a thousand times. (Probably because he has done this a thousand times.) He's not too worried about the crime scene, it's an abandoned warehouse for Christ's sake. The only people who'll be snooping around in here are your typical crack head junkies. No one in their right mind is going to believe that they found blood. Even better, they'd probably be convicted of the crime. Now that's fucking hilarious. Jesse laughs silently at the thought. The only indication that he's even doing it being the up and down movement of his shoulders.

By this point he's made sure his knives are tucked safely away back in his chrome briefcase, which he holds in his free hand. Jesse kicks the door open with enough strength to knock it off its hinges. He stands there on the stoop in the back alley for a moment before marching down the dimly lit alleyway to his car.

A scuffing noise coming from behind catches his attention. Jesse turns around with enough force to make the body over his shoulder whizz through the air and thunk hard against his back. Nothing catches his eye so he brushes it off. Most likely a stray cat.

The trunk to the car opens with a click and he throws the body inside. Better care is taken when he places his briefcase in beside it. The video has long since finished recording and he takes the time now to remove the tape, titling it Jacksonville. It's honestly not even worth keeping or naming but who gives a fuck. He caught the bitch and killed her, it's his fair and square.

Pocketing the tape, he slams the trunk shut. He's opted to keep his chrome mask on. No sense in taking it off just to reapply the adhesive an hour later. He whirls around, ready to jump into the car and drive off when instead he practically jumps out of his fucking skin.

There no more than a few feet away stands a small child, no older than six. Big doe-like eyes stare up at him and it takes Jesse a minute to regain his composure. What the fuck? He looks around but sees no one. Clearly she belongs to someone, which sounds stupid as fuck because she isn't a fucking dog. And yes. Now he can make out clearly that it is a little girl. He doesn't have many rules he abides by when the chrome mask is placed on his face, but killing kids is one of his top ones. They're still too young to understand the world or just how terrible their mothers are for leaving them alone long enough to get a fuck in.

The little girl takes a tiny step forward and Jesse wastes no time in yanking his phone from his pocket. He types furiously on it, black nitrile making hardly a sound.

'GO AWAY' . The electronic voice echoes off the brick walls of the alley. He can tell by the way she flinches back a step that his point is made. Good. Jesse brushes past her, ready to leave the situation behind. At least until he feels a tug on his black slacks.

The little girl clings to his designer pants, eyes wide but not from fear, more so curiosity. Jesse wastes no time in furiously typing on his phone again. 'GO HOME. I'M A BUSY MAN AND I DON'T NEED TO BE HELD UP. ' His only response is a slow blink.

'NO. ' He dislodges her tiny hands and pushes her on the back in the opposite direction. ' GO HOME. ' Jesse thinks he's finally gotten her to understand but it's the exact opposite. For some fucking reason that makes her want to be even closer to him.

"Why do you wear that?" She asks as she points to his mask.. She has to hold her head all the way back to even see his "face". It's actually rather comical and if anyone were to walk by at this moment they'd probably double over with laughter. The girl barely makes it up to his thigh, as to where the 6'7 man looks like a god damned giant looking at a pomeranian. "Are you hiding from someone?"

Yes that was obviously it! He, a known killer, was hiding from someone. What a stupid -- Jesse stops himself mid thought as his brown eye takes in her appearance. It's raggedy to say the least. Then again, anyone who compared his attire to another’s would consider it to be raggedy. ' HOME. LEAVE ME ALONE. FIND YOUR MOTHER. '

The girl's face seems to crumple at this and for a moment Jesse is dumbfounded. "I -I don't know where she is." The tiny voice squeaks out. Her lower lip begins to quiver and ohmyfuckinggod he's done it now. People could care less if they heard a woman on the streets yelling, but a kid? Someone would come bounding around the corner to the rescue. Which only meant he'd then have to kill them and whoever else came with them. "She leaves sometimes and doesn't come back for a while." His mangled lip twists into a snarl under the chrome mask. "She usually says it's because she has to work." Ah, so that explained it.

Jesse's eye darts to the trunk of his Chrysler 300. Of course the whore brought her kid to work. If he could talk, Jesse would have a mouthful of slurs to toss at the dead woman. He knows all too well what it's like to not have a mother, and knows even better the concept of a drunk for a father. Though something tells him there's no father in this situation.

"Can I come with you? At least until she comes back?" It's such an innocent question and it takes everything in him to hold back the sensation of snuffing out a life. Chromeskull is creeping further into the picture, just begging to sink his claws into her and kill her but Jesse smoothers that thought.

He's always had a fond spot for kids. It was actually something he was excited about when he'd found out his wife was pregnant but just like everything else that had been ruined too. He never talks about his wife. The only time he did was when Spann had the displeasure of explaining the situation to him. After that he'd made it clear to never mention her or the unborn baby again by destroying everything in his office. The room looked like it had been hit by a tornado when he was done, broken pictures, splintered chairs, holes in the wall. The scenario made his fiasco with destroying the mirror after seeing his own disfigurement seem mild. All of that accompanied with the unsaid "this is your fault" regarding her suicide has been eating away at him slowly over the years.

' NO. ' He shakes his leg free. Tricky little pest.

"But please?" She's latches on to him again and Jesus fucking Christ what the fuck about his current attire screams "I'm here to help you!". Because it sure as fuck isn't the mask or knives hidden away in his car.

By this time he's just decided to remove his gloves, throwing the used nitrile into the passenger seat of the open driver side door. The low light illuminates the tattoos that cover his hands. The letters on his knuckles moving slightly when he clenches his fists together. He's about to start typing again when the tiny voice breaks the silence. "Oh you painted your hands!" It's the stupidest fucking thing he's ever heard. They're tattoos, tattoos that decorate both arms from the knuckles up when he's not dressed for the job. But it's also the funniest thing he's ever heard and Jesse can't help the smile that stretches across his mangled face behind the mask. Children are so God damned innocent. A tiny hand removes itself from his slacks to grasp at his hand but Jesse moves it out of her way before she can grab it. A sad expression settles on her face but it quickly disappears as he hikes his slacks up by the knees, making it easier for him to bend down. He's eye level with her now and he sees almost instantly how her demeanor changes. Once more it's not fear (odd considering there's a giant man in a chrome skeleton mask right in front of her face), but rather elation.

She wastes no time in snatching one of his hands examining it. In the process his sleeve rides up to reveal more ink on his arm. "You colored your arm too?" She looks up to see him nod once slowly. This only sits off another tirade of questions. Jesse can't really answer them. Sure he could type them and let the phone do the talking but that’s too much fucking work. He's not sure if she understands sign language so no point in trying that. He settles for just nodding or shaking his head, short answers she's bound to understand.

"You don't talk much, huh?" It's not that he doesn't talk, it's that he can't talk. Most days Jesse would give anything to be able to express himself through voice, even if it meant giving his remaining eye. But he's always lived like this and there's no point in complaining about what can't be fixed. Plus it adds an intimidation aspect to him, something he rather enjoys.

"Can I come with you?" She asks again and this time Jesse studies her for a moment. He weighs the options in his head. She is alone and it would be awfully rude to simply leave her here by herself in the back of an alley. Seeing as Jesse is the perfect gentleman, he can't simply do that. It's hard to tell what will happen to her if he just leaves her here. Other people might say she's his responsibility because he obviously just fucking killed her mom, but from his point of view she didn't seem like a mother anyway. No loss in that department. He finally nods and there's just something about the way her tiny face lights up with delight that just wants to make him laugh. For having just met him, she seems very content to cling to him. Then an idea pops into his head. Wanting children and then having the possibility taken away, only to be rewarded with one. He can already hear Preston's annoying voice now, and honestly that's all the fucking push he needs.

Jesse stands to his full height with ease. The little girl follows him as he makes his way back to the car. She blinks at the automobile. "I've never seen a car like this before. Are you rich?" Very rich, he wants to say but settles for nodding. And if he has anything to say in the matter, she’ll be just as rich in a short time also.

---------

Jesse parks the car outside the warehouse his operation is currently running in, not bothering to make an effort to hide it. Besides he's not too worried about the police. He pulls open the back door and the little girl eagerly jumps into his arms, still talking a hundred miles an hour (something she's been doing for the last twenty minutes, but frankly he doesn't care). He walks them through the building's side door, being met instantly by Spann and then Preston, who's wearing that annoyingly fake 'happy to see you!' expression.

"Sir, we didn't expect you back until morning." Spann's soothing voice meets his ears. He responds with a shrug as he sees her eyes land on the child.

And then that voice grates on his ears. "Boss, you're fucking kidding, right?" It's followed by a nervous and unbelieving laugh. "I didn’t take you for the adopting strays sort of guy. Let alone, I think she's a little young for you." Preston laughs again but he's met with Spann's hard stare and Jesse's blood-curdling one. The implication that he has something planned is enough to make his mangled lip curl into a snarl under the mask.

It's then he places the girl in the other man's arms and begins typing on his phone. ' GET HER SETTLED IN AT HOME. ROOM. CLOTHES. SCHOOL. ' It's a clear statement and he doesn't plan on repeating himself.

"Might I commend you on how great of an idea having an apprentice is, Sir." Jesse makes a so-so movement with his hand then signs the word "daughter". Spann smiles widely. "Even better. I've always seen you as a family man." The both of them begin to make their way back to his office.

"Boss!" Preston looks between the kid in his arms and back to Jesse. "You're not serious."

The electronic voice meets his ears once again. ' DO IT NOW. '

"Boss!" The sound reaches his ears once more before he closes the door and sinks into his chair. A smile stretches across his face under the mask as Spann begins explaining plans to move the operation. Maybe Preston does have a use. Being the always available babysitter.