#in fact i dare someone to make a fic based off of this

[queenofallimagines]

Blue lock NSFW HCs

A/n: so since I’ve let this anime take over my life completely I feel I’m overqualified to give better hcs and since I don’t have a specific scenario in this is general headcanons💕 (pls request blue lock I have brainworms)

Blue lock:

- off the bat isagi telling us he has a thigh fetish is so real it me he keeps his hands on your thigh at all times

- Really one hand on the steering wheel the other just barely in your pants fingering you

- They all kinda got that sauce in ‘em yk?

- Isagi can say “pretty thing” or “sweetness” in that low ass voice and it will have you on your knees

- NAGI CALLING YOU PRETTY

- Idk WHERE that shit came form but every fic he just calls you pretty and that’s def canon that man is 6”3 so hear me out

- This big ass man who’s usually lazy and barely paying attention putting in that work on you, keeping you pressed into the bed with his full body weight

- Mumbling in your ear in his monotone voice that’s just one octave lover

- “Cmon pretty, gunna come f’me?” he’s looking at you with his egoist eyes

- Will have you in between him and Reo

- Sorry but that’s just as canon as bachira and isagi it’s gunna happen at LEAST once

- Seishiro can run with the best of them w that ego too like he says he’s a pacifist but he’s squared up first on someone like 4 times😭

- He Probably offhandedly mentions something about you in convo with Reo and you’re done for

- They’re like gaming or something and you walk into the room

- “I’ll prove it- hey come here for a sec” and now all of a sudden you’re seated in between his delicious thighs being fingered open by nagi in front of Reo like he’s giving a tutorial😭

- I see y’all’s saying Reo would do that for inexperienced nagi but I raise you that Reo only has casual flings and has been intimate with nagi so he’s not used to their duo being a trio

- Nagi spreading your legs keeping them wide open for Reo to see everything while he leans over your shoulder and makes sure he’s focused on what he’s doing

- Something something good with his givers because gamer

- He’s working you open with his huge fingers almost unbothered by the fact that your squirming and grabbing at his arm

- Reo is a little flustered but he’s def paying attention

- They’re acting like they’re talking about the weather like you not gushing all over his fingers

- Makes you cum like three times this way before he says “Reo is pretty good with his tongue, can he have a taste too?”

- Nagi and his crazy stamina will not let you rest!

- RIN! My beloved baby boy!

- He’s a FREAK like freaky NASTY and mean about it too!

- Little slow on the uptake but once you really start learning about each other he’s working out all his frustrations on you

- Not very emotive but he’s blunt so he will make his feelings perfectly clear

- Brat tamer by default bc you push his buttons

- “Keep that same energy when I get you alone”

- Fucks you in the locker rooms

- Likes you wearing his jersey while he does it

- Had hella pictures and videos of it too that you don’t remember him taking😭

- Keep him company on his long away games💕

- Everyone knows he’s having good sex bc he has scratch marks all over his back and dares someone to say shit about them

- Since like every single one of his dispositions is bc of Sae you have to be patient with him

- The itoshi issue is that they will have conflicts in their head, decide what YOU are gunna say and make choices silently based off that

- Like bitch if you don’t TALK TO ME??

- Rin will not start the convo and avoid you in a fight bc in his mind he fucked up and you never want to see him again but like did I say that??

- You gotta go to him and be like say what the fuck you’re thinking :/

- Both the itoshi brothers are rough

- Rin will use his insane stamina to fuck you right to sleep like he’s trying to watch a game stop playing w him

- Probably end up fucking you with or in-front of isagi

- One thing about Rin Itoshi is that he has something to prove always

- Sae and shidou you already know lmao

- My favs?? Come the fuck ON they have nasty ass sex daily

- Sae count your fucking days bc imma best your ass 😐

- However,,, the dynamic between him and Ryusei is too tasty to ignore

- Sae and his butt fetish will usually do anal if you’re taking both of them at once

- His dick is really pretty you and shidou have full length discussions about it and he is TIRED

- Sae likes to think he has you two on a leash and for the most part he kinda does

- But you might as well be on demon time too bc once you and Ryusei tag them

- Him??

- The great cold and calculated Sae Itoshi the gem of Japan will be a whiny little Bitch

- Likes to piss you off so you’ll be rough with him and Shidou right there with you

- You’re both fed up with his shit so you decide to punish him

- You edging him while Ryu fucks him mercilessly

- Imagine you’re riding him reverse cowgirl and shidou is fucking him so hard and deep he can’t breathe

- You two doing that whole outwardly ignoring him kissing while he wants you to pay attention to him clawing at your lower back and hips

- Moaning out “sorry” and babbling nonsense

- Cums a lot and it’s thick in consistency

- Whimpers when you and shidou taste him on each other and he can’t kiss either of you

- Tears steaming down his face while he struggles to keep his eyes from rolling back and can barely even say what he wants because he’s moaning so much

- Aftercare is so cute bc you both clean him up and give him as many kisses as he wants

- That really fixes his attitude LMAO

- Isagi can get pretty try mean too you trigger that ego and he’s just as ruthless as he is in the field

- “You think I’m gunna let you cum after you spent all day on my nerves? Be serious”

- He’s big on eye contact

- Will sit back in a chair and stare at you as he makes you ride him with no help

- “Go on, you wanted it, ain’t you?”

- Spanks you hard

- Chigiri hyoma is HUNG

- like oh my god pretty face huge dick

- People paint him as like corset when he’s like really mild mannered and mean? Lmao his egoist profile even says he’s mean

- He’s blunt and says exactly what he means

- If “okay?? AND??” Was a person😭

- Will get choked up if you kiss the scar on his knee when you go down on him

- “Cmon you can take more than that can’t you?”

- He can go fast but likes going slow and deep

- Really savor the moment

- Wants to feel every second of you going up and down his dick

- Meanie!!

- “You’re creaming around me already and I’ve barely made it all the way in”

- Preps you really good before hand too that’s like mandatory even if you’re ready he’s going to have you cum on his tongue or fingers first

- Gets pussy drunk a lot and ends up fucking himself into overstimulation

- Liked his hair pulled on

- Barou? Whew the king definitely deserves that title!

- A big fan of slow and deep like Chigiri

- Will make you face him as he fucks up into you

- “Quit wining and take it, you’re the one who kept begging for me to fuck you all day”

- Will clean the sheets fully after sex like lmao he’s changing the whole bed

- Let’s see hiori too! People like to say the self proclaimed “ultra sadist” as like just a bottom all the time

- He’s more mean and doesn’t care about it

- “Ow! That kinda hurt!”

- “Hm? Good”

- Big fan of face fucking

- Shidou alone is very baby

- I’m his defense lawyer yall like he’s an aquifer taste so you can not like him

- But that’s your fault and a skill issue💅🏿✨

- He’s the unhinged very soon of isagi very emotionally intelligent and can read a room

- He simply does not CARE about others

- Very ‘if people are going to isolate me then I’ll push them away’ vibes

- Like he rly has a connection w the whole cast minus rin and kunigami

- If he hadn’t took a kick at isagi him and bachira would be besties!🥺

- They understand the same type of loneliness

- Back to the horny

- He will split you open on his cock any time of the day

- He’s very god at anatomy and chemistry like look at how tf he talks

- HES LITERALLY A STRAIGHT A STUDENT!

- Has a breeding kink in canon

- “If you keep my cum inside you for the whole game I’ll eat it out of you when we win”

- Cock bastard also

- Rin def walked in on you two once and it haunts him

- Seeing your face utterly fucked out not caring that you’re both locking eyes while shidou who’s blissfully unaware keeps bullying his fat cock into you against the lockers🤭

- He can’t look you in the face for like a month lol

- Chigiri like pegging and kunigami can suck dick rly well

- Don’t ask me how ik I just KNOW Mr. Bisexual representation has had a relationship with a guy who he was intimate with

- Bachira likes to paint your face white

- Loved seeing you with his cum on your face

- Won’t tell you he’s close when you suck him off on purpose sometimes

- “Oops, my bad! You do look pretty like this tho☺️” be so the fuck fr

[comfortless]

All That You Don’t Want

PAIRING: witch!fem!reader x apprentice!König

CONTENT: 18+! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. oneshot. obvious au— so not canon-compliant!, questionable morality, mutual pining, animal death (it’s still alive! but not!), minor character death, power imbalance? technically teacher/student, forced proximity, smut; unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, cockwarming.

NOTES: title from this song! (i will never stop titling my König fics after The Twilight Sad lyrics sorry) i have never written smut in my life i apologize if this is rough!! cover: Robert Bresson, 1951 wc: 7.7k

You never wanted an apprentice, never had the need for some bright-eyed whelp shadowing you for their own benefit. The kingdom had enough competition as far as your craft went— green magic, potion brewing and enchantments, why in the world would you risk teaching someone your secrets only for them to outdo you at every turn? Those with the propensity for magic weren’t treated human, anyway. You saw the looks, uneasy and disgusted, unless of course they had need of you.

The Guild keeps your protected, scrawl your praises in every fresh sheet of parchment passed about, brings in new clients for you to keep yourself afloat without you ever having to leave your little cottage in the forest just beyond the towering walls of the kingdom. So, when you receive the damned letter, how can you refuse?

Green magic couldn’t protect you from the King’s headsman, nor could it keep you hidden away from the constant threat of bandits and other malevolent forces, but the lines in the small letter detailing your new apprentice’s abilities are enough to make you swallow back some of that displeasure.

“… proficient in offensive magics…” and “… formerly in service to the King as a worthy candidate for knighting…” even “… a skilled huntsman…” all tell you that whoever this enigmatic pup is, he would have no qualms hissing at and chasing off a few rogues if they dared step too close to your territory. You picture some ruggedly handsome and charming gentleman arriving at your door with a sword of the finest steel hanging from his side and you loathe the way that your heart seems to flutter with excitement at the prospect.

A fortnight after the letter arrived at your doorstep, you realize that fantasy is often far sweeter than the reality.

You’re busying yourself sorting out a towering shelf with haphazardly placed vials, some labeled and others… well, if you had to guess based on the color of the fluid inside, you should probably toss lest you accidentally poison the next poor woman that comes by simply wanting something to charm the cute farmhand while her piece of shit husband, far too old for her, is off on another brothel visit. You may not be equipped to defend yourself in battle, but you know very well how to make nightshade and wolf’s bane taste like milk and honey.

It’s when you turn with your arms burdened by a heap of unlabeled, possibly poisonous concoctions that you see a figure just outside your window— tall, face shrouded with a blackened veil with only two holes cut out for his moonstone eyes. You curse the way the sight makes you nearly jump out of your skin, dropping everything you were holding onto the wooden floor, brightly colored fluid and glass shards staining a nearby rug you had spent an entire month painstakingly hooking yourself. The specter just tilts his head at you before inviting himself inside. Why bother pretending to be civilized when you look like that, anyhow?

You crouch to collect the shards of glass and wipe away the mixture of maybe-poisons as he enters, not sparing him a glance even as his footfalls lead him to stand uncomfortably close. Perhaps if the entire ordeal hadn’t pissed you off you would have the sense to be afraid, consider the fact that this titan of a man could have been a thief, but something tells you that this is the bright-eyed whelp you had anticipated. The man doesn’t even bother to greet you, let alone kick his muddy boots off at the door, he just hovers over you with his face tilted downward as you scrub up the mess you tell yourself he had caused.

“Leave it to The Guild to send me a dolt,” you mutter below your breath, barely audible as you move to deposit bits of broken glass into a wastebasket at the corner of the room.

“Ja?” The man huffs amusedly.

“Ja?” You question.

“Yes.”

You give him a look, one that suggests you’re in no mood for whatever this is and he seems to stiffen. Any mirth in those haunted eyes of his is quickly snuffed out, replaced with his gaze darting from perusing your backside to the corner of the room, then back up to your face.

He introduces himself as ‘König’. No surname, no title. Though, you supposed in his language, his name was a title in itself. Perhaps your disappointment is more notable than you realize, because the man seems almost nervous around you as you introduce yourself in turn. His fingers curl into his palms in repetition at his sides, and it’s impossible to tell by the small glimpse of his face whether or not he wants to strangle you or bury himself instead.

You rise to your feet, feeling acutely defeated as you lead him around the home, showing him to each room before stopping at the door to his own and crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’ll stay here,” you say quietly, avoiding his eyes as he lowers himself to look at you, thanking you graciously as his hand lingers a bit too long on your shoulder. You gently reach to pry it off, only to feel him grip at your fingers running his thumb over each knuckle before finally drawing away.

You watch from the doorway as he inspects the room. A bed a size two small for a man such as himself sits in the middle, a desk cluttered with spare vials of ink and a few quills made of swan feather, and a towering bookshelf filled with books on simple magic that you haven’t bothered to touch since you were a girl. He seems pleased, despite how very little effort was made for him. As much as you wish otherwise, you almost feel the sting of guilt when you watch him seat himself on the small bed and his eyes light up as he looks to you.

It didn’t take much perception to see the world hadn’t treated this brute too kindly.

He hunts your dinner, bringing home several rabbits that he took his time to skin and prepare for cooking in the yard. Even more, he roasts them over a fire he stoked up for you in a display of gratitude. You watch him from the fogged window as he seats himself by the fluttering flames, watching the meat with a focus that speaks volumes about his own discipline.

“Have you lived on the land for long, König?,” you ask him when the two of you are seated at the table, wiping away the remnants of your meal from your lips with a small handkerchief.

He’s only rucked up his hood enough to eat, the scars lining his jaw run deep, the skin pasty there. He looked far too pale to even be a living thing at all, but his thin lips pull into a grin at your question. “You can tell?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head, the tone of his voice suggesting sarcasm. “Perceptive little witch.”

You furrow your brow at him, surprised by his sudden arrogance. You would have sooner expected the man to tear a hole through you than meet your little question with a cocky response if his twitchy behavior was anything to go by. But… his voice sends a shiver down your spine, the amused lilt mixed with his accent, some natural charm that makes areas of you ache that haven’t been touched in years.

“A man must know to feed himself, ja?”

“Well, I don’t hunt.”

He huffs out a laugh at that, raising a hand to readjust his hood, pulling it back down over his face. König is not pretty, far from it from what you could see, but you almost find yourself downtrodden that he’s hiding himself again when you were only just starting to find yourself curious.

“I will teach you,” he suggests as he clears your table, depositing both your dishes and his own into the washbasin at the far corner of the kitchen. He’s helping, and your eyes merely track him dumbfounded.

“You don’t have to, König— I, um. I’m supposed to be teaching you, remember?” You’re trying to sound authoritative, like a proper mentor but it’s fruitless, really. How long had it been since a man was this close to you, living out in the forest? You had clients, sure, but in your craft you came to know about their proclivities, their ailments, and any interest you may have had died with their innumerable requests.

The Guild had set you up, surely, you decide as your eyes wander over to the man washing your dishes, the man who had prepared your dinner, who had stared openly at your ass. The man who smelled of dew and timber and fire smoke. The man with the most beautiful, tired eyes you had ever met.

You can see the muscles of his back through his tunic, tightly bundled up from where he’s drawn his sleeves to his bicep to wash up the remnants of dinner, mind almost numbing from the sight alone. It felt like some divine torture, to be sent something you adamantly did not want only for that very same thing to make your pulse quicken and throat dry.

“I want to teach you,” he tries again.

You feel sinful for the place your mind goes then. Do the ladies in the kingdom often allow monsters to bed them? Is his size comparable to the stature?

“Okay.” Your voice was tight, barely a whisper.

He finishes up his cleaning and turns to look at you as he wrings his hands over the washbasin, his eyes narrowed and crinkled at the corners. Grinning again like a wolf knowing he’s got his claws in you.

— — —

You go over the standard protocol when dealing with customers seeking remedies with König as you hear the approaching horse whinnying out in the yard. Simple, standard. Most people had a wariness for those who were touched by magic, understandably so. It’s human nature to fear what isn’t fully understood. With König’s imposing height and the veil over his face, you needed him to be extra careful in these situations. He doesn’t seem to take offense at your fretting, merely smiles beneath the veil as you speak and all is settled and well by the time your client wraps lightly at the door.

You swing the door open with a polite smile, hands clasped at the lap of your dress. The smile is maintained even as you catch sight of his face, scars from a horrific burn covering over half of it, his right eye filmed over and sightless in its socket. He wasn’t here to charm a lady or conceal his face with glamours, only for a balm to alleviate the lingering, phantom pains that stretched from his scalp down to his neck. A decent man, and a damned good blacksmith from what you had heard. He was one of your favorites.

König observes from the corner of the room, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest without a word as you fetch the jar of balm for the client, accept his coin and send him back on his way.

“Oh.. I don’t know how he got that nasty burn but it’s hard to look at isn’t it?”

König gives you a look, something unsaid hinted at just beyond the surface of his icy eyes, and you realize it’s a little too late to pull your words back.

— — —

Days seem to pass by with an awkward tension in the air. It’s not because of his tutelage under you, either, because he’s doing surprisingly well with his studies. Potion crafting is a tricky, fickle sort of thing. One mistake and an entire batch is ruined and the gods only knew when you would stumble upon what was required whilst foraging again. König is careful, attentive as he follows your instruction. He studies diligently, spending his free time reading through his books, often out in the foyer and if not for how skilled he was, you would assume it was all for show. Wishful thinking, a vicious yearning settling in between your breasts that wants for him to try and impress you, to court you.

It’s tense because you’ve found you can’t keep the man out of your head. In the late hour when the house has fallen silent, you could often hear his desperate grunts through the thin slats of wood separating your own room from his. You’ve imagined the sight of him fisting his cock, biting down onto his scarred lip as he whines through his release more times than you would ever confess. The gods themselves couldn’t pry the admittance from your lips that you wait up sometimes to hear him with your own hand between your thighs.

And König had this look about him now, more confident as he walks about. His hands don’t twitch as much when the two of you speak.

It’s the seventh morning as you’re preparing tea for the both of you that he enters the cottage entirely nude (apart from the hood; he seems insistent about keeping it almost entirely on in your presence). His body drips with river water, looking more like the skillfully carved statues that took residence in the castle courtyard than any man at all. You can’t help your staring, and he seems unperturbed by it as he slips behind you to set some freshly plucked milkweed on the wooden countertop. So focused on the cords of tight muscle layering his body, the obscene thing swaying between his legs, you hadn’t even noticed he had bothered to collect an ingredient you so desperately needed.

A man such as he should be seated on a throne, worshipped by a harem of pretty ladies, all pawing at his lap. Yet— he merely had you, ogling him as openly as he seemed to do to you.

“For the elixir,” he hums, sounding amused as he tilts his head to look you over as he had a striking amount of times already.

“Yeah.” You try to subtly clear your throat, cursing yourself for the way your reaction prompts his eyes to dart to the swell of your breasts beneath your dress. “Thanks.”

“You look pretty today.” He’s making everything worse. Turning your quiet life around and filling you with some horrid feeling you’ve avoided for years out here in near-isolation. “You look pretty everyday,” he corrects himself before you can speak. The obscene pillar between his legs seems to grow at the sight of you, and if you were not certain before, you know assuredly now that something has cursed you.

A good, knowing witch would tell him that his compliments were inappropriate, unwarranted. She would tell him to not walk around with his cock on full display and send him off to practice mundane spells as punishment. You are not a good, knowing witch at all if the warmth on your face is anything to go by.

“How was the river?” You ask instead, graciously retrieving a towel from the cupboard to hand to him. Despite how orderly you tried to keep things here, it’s not the water he’s dripping all over the hardwood that has your mind spinning.

“Gut.” He says words in his native tongue, often, and you’ve already grown accustomed to deciphering them. They sound prettier on his tongue than your own. He accepts the towel and merely draping it over his broad shoulders. “Come with me next time,” he offers, all but innocently.

God damnit.

“I made tea.” You’re trying to avoid his undressing stare, busying yourself with the tea kettle. The scent of mint seems to calm you as you pour the tea into your own mug, careful not to spill it out onto the counter with your trembling hands.

“I like you.” Blunt as always, you wonder if he even has any sort of control on the things he says.

God damnit all.

“I like you too, König. You’re a good apprentice,” you respond, your nerves alight with something that you can’t quite place; a twig on the verge of snapping under its weight.

He laughs soft, and graciously gives you a reprieve from well… that as he steps out of the room to finally dress himself.

Later that evening as the elixir is fully prepared and the client arrives to pick it up, you realize that König is no where in sight. It’s not uncommon; the man certainly lacked his social graces, but he hadn’t seemed to mind the shopfront side of what you do before until you had spoken so carelessly. The client is a nervous little thing, a girl not yet a woman, anxious and shaky as she takes the vial from you with an abundance of thanks. It’s no wonder why she had requested such a thing meant to put a patch over her anxieties and communicate better now. You steal only a spoonful from the cauldron as you empty it, praying that it silences the buzzing of nerves and the fluttering in your heart as you bed down for the night.

— — —

You wake to a door slamming shut in the dead of night, followed by the quieted hiss of what you believe to be a curse in a language that is not your own. It immediately sends you on high alert, thinking back to the threat of bandits and enchanted wildlife or whatever else. Jolted from your bed by the kick of adrenaline, you tiptoe down the stairs to see that… nothing is out of place. The den is as homey as always, every vial and potion bottle in its place on the shelves. The only thing that appeared to be missing at all was a book on your shelf. You knew that book, too. It was a favorite of many of your customers, the ones with weathered skin or features that were not the golden standard of delicate, royal beauty. A book on glamours was not something that would be stolen away by any thief in the night, seeing as it wouldn’t be of much help at all without a dedicated practitioner.

It only really settles in for you that your apprentice snatched it away when you take a peek out of the window and your eyes settle on a darkened corner of the garden. Tall sprigs of lavender sprung up from the earth there, and an even taller man sat, legs crossed with your book in his lap beneath the milky glow of the moon.

König looks… agitated. Even from this distance, the glass and wall and several meters of organized plant life separating you, you can see his hands shaking as he ghosts his calloused fingertips over the pages. His shoulders tense and a fiery look in his eye. He reads the incantations aloud with proper annunciation, forced through his thick accent. Repeats them, several times over. Not a thing changes.

But you leave him be, return to bed, because despite him being your responsibility, his private matters are still his own. As much as you would like to snatch the book from his hands and confess through tears that he haunts your dreaming just as he is now, you can’t bring yourself to do so.

When the book is in its place the following morning with König still in his bed, you read over the pages heavily scented by lavender. The ones that tell you how he sees himself in truth without a single word from his own being. Too tall, too ugly, too ruined.

It’s not enough to say your heart breaks. You feel it shatter somewhere in your chest, little pieces crumbling down into the darkest pit of your middle. Perhaps he’s only doing this due to your careless words about your client the other day, perhaps he wants to be seen as something beautiful for once.

The day is spent with a heavy weariness in your eyes. König picks up some slack for you as you fester in a sadness that should not even be your own; prepares something meaty for you both to eat, incorrectly sweeps some dust from the wooden floors that you know you’ll have to properly clean later on, and even tends to the garden. He’s good with the plants, gentle as he plucks berries from their stems and cuts away only what was required with a sharp dagger.

While you’ve thrown yourself over a cushioned chair, König kneels before you to speak. He’s just finished telling you some gory tale about when he squired for Ser… something, a name you don’t even care to remember. It was a rare occurrence for him to open up, you’ve come to realize that. Maybe it was simply too soon for him, but then again, he seemed to have no qualms allowing you to hear his desperate howling at night or walk about after a bath with his cock fully erect in your line of sight. If words were too much then what the hell was all of that?

“How come you didn’t become a knight, König?” you ask him, your tone sounding a bit more dead than intended. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in his stories, you were simply still coming to terms with one of his likely innumerable secrets. “The Guild said you were a good candidate, so why?”

You ask your questions, his eyes light up. He’s not used to this, it seems, and the fact that you want to know him at all makes him giddy. His fingers drum against his thighs, eyes creasing at the corners as he smiles beneath that veil and you wonder… wonder how the world could be cruel to someone like this at all when all that you want to do is bundle up with him beneath your thick quilts and kiss him in places only lovers would.

He doesn’t respond to your question, though. Another secret for some other time, you supposed. Instead, he asks his own, “Why are you so alone?”

König speaks freely, you knew that well enough but the words that escape his lips cause you to freeze all the same. His tone is neutral, not accusatory or mocking, but there’s something— something there you can’t properly uproot.

“I’m not lonely.” A little white lie couldn’t be too terrible, yet the thought of betraying your companion in even such a small way, hurting him like you assumed so many others had before is just unthinkable. “I am sometimes, but I like living here,” you correct.

“But you are alone,” he insists.

“I am not. You’re here.”

Your words are like a charm, really, and any rationale König may have had immediately dissipates when you speak them. He climbs over you, the chair creaking under your combined weight as he looks down at you with this hope-filled expression that tugs every one of your heartstrings at once. “Let me kiss you.”

His shallow breathing flutters his veil, the hunger in his eyes more than apparent, and you’ve the sense that a mere kiss would not suffice, turning into a long night with an impossible soreness between your thighs come morning.

You shake your head and he backs off immediately, returning to sit on the floor before you instead with a simple, “Okay.”

The room falls silent for a moment. You wanted to. You’ve been longing to. And yet the opportunity had gone and went; for any normal, sane person your rejection would have been enough. Weeks spent in his company should have taught you that König was a far cry from normal. The man treats you like you’re a doll, not a seasoned witch. Takes to hiding away from any company you may have and spends his nights outside in the dark wishing and failing to change what he was.

“If I tell you why I am not a knight will you kiss me?,” he tries again as you shift to sit upright in your seat.

“What? König, no… that’s not how—”

“I will court you,” he interjects quickly, rising to his feet to stare down at you. The man was practically buzzing with excitement, and you wonder if he intends to bolt out of the house right then to bring back ample gifts of flowers and fine silks just for a chance to mash his mouth against your own.

“You’re not here to court me,” you huff with a pinched brow. Stop making this harder! Why must you always make this harder?!

“I think about you at night.”

The giant professes his affections by telling you that he’s fucking his fist to the thought of you with all the simplicity of idle talk. Somehow, that seemed less alarming than the fact that you don’t even seem horrified. Words fail you when you desperately need them most, merely gaping up at him so dumbly you must have actually belayed interest, because he continues.

“In the river too.”

“König… that’s inappropriate,” you manage to find your voice then. You know that you’re a plaster saint, too, because the thought of bathing where he spreads his seed sends a swell of warmth from your tummy to the aching blossom between your legs.

“Ja, it is… why do you tease me? The way you look…” He trails off with a shake of his head, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion. He was trembling as though afraid, so violently you almost fear he’ll come crashing over you like an ocean wave. You would catch him, drown in salt water and foam, a curtain of sharp teeth and darkness.

He fidgets as he waits for an answer that never comes. What could you say? Admit that the way he feels is a mirror of yourself, that the two of you are only seconds from diving into a pool that you could never resurface from.

But just like before, König retreats up the shadowy staircase, up to his room. Another reprieve, another stone weighing heavy in the recesses of your mind.

— — —

Secrets are stupid, evil things you decide.

You’re staring into the glazed eyes of a dead buck as it stands before you on it’s hind legs. It’s head hangs limply from its broken neck, mouth gaping with each fragile intake of breath. It’s bloated belly leaks it’s own entrails as it takes a shaky step towards you, trying desperately to kick at you with the stiff limbs tucked against its chest.

“I don’t know how to make it go away,” König pants at your side, and despite his shallow, rapid breathing there’s this calm look in his eyes. This has happened before. This has happened before and to a far worse extent than a deer.

It makes sense, now, why something as trivial as casting a glamour simply didn’t work for König. The man was touched by something darker, something the King’s men would happily cut his head from his shoulders for. Necromancy was immoral and frankly, horrifying. Seeing it now, it was really no wonder why this sort of magic would send one directly to the headsman.

The deer huffs a breath, too long and ragged. It’s not used to breathing any more, after all. König steps between you two, his dagger raised. “Just… close your eyes.”

It’s over as quickly as it’s manifested and König does well at shielding you from the aftermath, your face pressed to his chest as he pulls you into his arms and walks you back home. What was meant to be a simple practicing session, resulted in chaos, and you’ve no words to give to fill the silence hanging over the two of you as he finally deposits you by the door.

You stand on shaking legs, a million questions swimming through your mind, but even as you part your lips to speak not a single sound comes out.

He looks exasperated when he finally remedies the quiet. “You’re afraid of me.” It’s not a question, only a resounding fact.

“No,” you lie immediately with a firm shake of your head.

“I will go.” König’s eyes are tired, always tired. He’s already slinking back towards the door when you reach for him, almost clawing at the length of his sleeve in your own desperation. If you were cursed this man was, tenfold, and you couldn’t bear the thought of sending him back out into a world that had hurt him so. One that would assuredly end his torment should this ever happen again. You don’t know whether you’re being merciful or selfish anymore; the definitions all a blur. You only know that the thought of König leaving your side feels like the ache of a thorn embedded in your heart.

“König, please— We can figure something out, we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again,” you huff as you bury your face against his shoulder. He’s both tense and trembling beneath your warmth. “I just need time to think.”

He cocks his head, a resounding twinkle of mirth breaking through the listlessness in his eyes. “Why?”

König isn’t dull-witted. He knows the words you never have a chance to speak. No one’s ever held fast to his side like this; no one has ever truly wanted him.

You know that the second he pushes his veil up and presses his mouth to yours. It’s clumsy, the force he uses, as if he’s trying to headbutt you instead of give you his affection, but you reciprocate in turn. You breathe shakily against him when you finally bring yourself to part your lips and he immediately begins to languidly lap into your mouth, drawing his arms around you; one finding the base of your neck as the other settles on your lower back, his fingers digging into your velvet dress, bunching up the fabric enough to reveal the meat of your ass.

You both moan as though you’re already having sex, caught up in a tangle of limbs he tastes your mouth as though it were sweet wine; his tongue flicks against your own before pulling back, lapping at your lip, pushing back in in some steady repetition that makes your knees weaker. Your hands find the hem of his tunic, slipping beneath it to feel a wall of muscle layered over his abdomen and he groans into the kiss with such fervor you would think he’s already come. He tears the cloth off the second you thumb over his nipple and drops to his knees clutching at your thighs.

“I need to taste you.” He sounds so desperate, looks so pitiful as though he’ll cry if you don’t allow him to fuck you with his tongue. You’re too far gone to give him anything more than a nod, and he all-too-readily lifts the skirt of your dress, hooks his finger around the seat of your panties and buries his face between your thighs. The first sweeps of his tongue are almost punishing; he wastes no time plowing the muscle into your cunt, writhing and grinding it against your velvety walls. The sound is already obscene, but then he begins to moan.

He sounds even more desperate than those nights in his lonely room, somehow, as he paws at his own erection straining against his trousers and drives into your pussy at a feverish pace. When he finally moves to take your clit between his lips, you grasp at the top of his head to keep yourself upright, moaning so loudly you’re certain that the entire kingdom could hear. He hums, amused at this, places his hands on your ass and pushes your hips for you to grind against his tongue.

When he jerks your panties aside again to rub circles against your asshole, the tautly pulled coil inside of you finally snaps. You curl over him as you mewl, cradling his head as his tongue pushes against your labia and your slit to lap up every bit of your essence. He releases his grip on your ass as you tremble, strokes himself freely below you as he pants against your pulsing cunt. Graciously, he gives you a moment to recover before he’s rising to his feet, tearing off your ruined panties and lifting you in his arms just enough to rub his leaking tip against you, you give him a strangled cry of his name when his length brushes against your swollen clit.

“Let me fuck you,” he rasps, his eyes wide and pupils blown as you squirm in his arms. “Bitte. Please. Let me fuck you.”

“Yes— Please, please fuck me König,” you whine as your arms curl over his shoulders. He doesn’t hesitate when he lies you back against your rug and pushes your knees up to your chest. His fingers flex against your flesh at the sight of your pussy still twitching from aftershocks, soaked down to your ass and pleading to be filled by him. He drops a hand to spread your lips, groaning deeply from his chest as he watches in awe as the tip of his thick cock sinks into you.

You hadn’t realized just how dirty König was until you see that look in his eye, pulling his head out only to repeatedly push into you with a choked whine of sheer bliss. You hadn’t realized how filthy you were until you find yourself tucking your arms beneath your knees to keep yourself in position so he can grope at the flesh of your ass as he does it.

“So— fuck— so schön,” he mutters as he continues to tease you like this. It’s almost hell the way he still hadn’t filled you entirely when you ache to have that long, ugly pillar buried so far it’s bruising your very womb, and it’s almost heaven the way you squeeze against him with each shallow thrust, your pussy desperate to devour his weapon of flesh.

“König…” You’re breathing his name as though it were a prayer, and as though a gift from the heavens his calloused thumb begins to rub over your clit the moment he finally sinks himself into you. There’s resistance, your cunt wasn’t meant to take a cock so large, you’re certain, but he bottoms out after what feels like an eternity, parts your knees with one hand to see your face as he gasps. You take him all, enveloping him in a vise grip and he hissed something in his native tongue, a string of words you can only imagine are praise because the way he’s looking at you now is as if he’s found a goddess all for himself.

“I’m going to fill you,” he declares as he lowers himself atop you, his weight almost crushing. “I’m going to… feels so…” His words fall short as he begins to move, groping at one of your tits as his other hand remains over your mound, flicking your clit. König’s fingers trace against your nipple before pinching it just hard enough to draw a choked mewl from you as your back arches. “Ja, liebling… you need it..”

His pace picks up, thumb deftly rolling over your clit until you spasm around his cock. It’s savage, the fervor he puts into fucking into you, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix until you cry out, only to draw back enough to bully against your g-spot until you shiver. Your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly and so hard your bite down on your lip enough to draw blood. König licks at your mouth as your sex pulses around him, groaning in tandem with your pretty cries.

He trails small kisses along your throat before biting down as his own climax hits. He alternates between spitting out words that sound like pure venom and moans that make him sound weak as he gives you one more thrust. His cock twitches so violently inside of you as he presses against your cervix your mind entirely blanks. You can’t tell if it’s his semen or your own slick spilling past his cock, painting your thighs when it all ends. You hang limply against him as he carries you over to the chair, keeping you plugged as he pulls you into his lap.

He fully unclothes you as he peppers your face and neck in sweet, open-mouthed kisses, pets you from the crown of your skull down to your back, brings a hand around your waist to pull you close as his other squeezes and squishes at your breasts. König’s gaze is adoring as your eyes meet his, he’s looking at you with a love you’ve never even known, the warmth of summer somehow still present in those eyes like glaciers.

“Will you stay?,” you force yourself to ask as if the answer isn’t already clear, his cock’s still buried in you and the man seemed utterly in love after merely having a sweaty, adrenaline addled session.

König presses his face into your hair, nuzzling at you as he kisses your temple. “You want me to stay?” He sounds bewildered, so fucking broken that he’s confused by the prospect anyone would even want him around, even if he just gave her the best fuck she’s ever had, even if she’s been staring at him adoringly since he found his way to her door.

“Of course I want you to stay!”

“Then… Ja, I will.”

It’s a declaration of love, in a sense.

König drops his hands to your hips as he kisses you again. The desperation has been strangled, buried someplace in your core. It’s sweet now when his kisses become sloppy and overwhelming. He shifts below you as he maneuvers your hips to grind against him, his length already hardening within you again. He noses at your jaw and pressed kisses to your cheeks when you take a moment to breathe. You curl your arms around him and bury your face into the crook of his neck as your ride him, the both of you moaning soft and panting against sweaty flesh. He finishes inside of you once more just as you lift his veil and kiss along his scars.

He bathed you in the river, carrying you down to the rocky shore as though you were a treasure, his hand stroking through your hair as the water laps over your bodies. It’s not enough to simply hold you, either, because one bath becomes two after he’s bent you over a stump and licked you to completion again before rutting into you like an animal.

Nights are no longer spent with a wall between, he takes to your bed without question, ensures you’re comfortable and warm as he holds you through the night. There’s a sort of desperation in you both, two outsiders that have finally found sanctuary in one another.

“I love you.” Followed by: “I love you.”

You’re not entirely sure who says it first.

— — —

“A deer?”

There’s a man in your home that you don’t recognize, looking you over as though you were well-bred cattle rather than a human being at all. Says he’s concerned about a potential necromancer after something foul slipped its way past the castle walls and paraded itself through an annual ball, sullying a few too-expensive and uncomfortably layered dresses and goring a man with its antlers.

König was seated in front of him, rigid with a forced calm you had never seen on him before, hands clasped and unmoving. You know he’s nervous anyway, his shallow breathing speaks volumes for what the veil keeps from you. You round the table to bring them both tea, trying your best to play the part of indifference as the two men speak.

König had said he didn’t know how to make it go away, and of course he didn’t, because how do you kill something that’s already died? Neither of you would have anticipated it finding its way there of all places, and in retrospect, you’re not even certain that the thought came to mind at all, you had lost yourselves in one another the moment you arrived home. Seeing as you both were the only magic-touched folks roving these woods, it was obvious why The Guild had sent this creep to question you.

“Yes. A large buck, it was,” the man continues, winking at you as he takes a sip of the warm liquid in the mug. You wished you had poisoned it, ridding the world of a man that made your skin crawl like this surely wouldn’t be too sinful. Looking to König, you realize that there’s no need for poisons, because the look in his eyes suggests that before this interrogation is over your rug will have a more stubborn stain than spilled potions and come.

“We use green magic,” you chime in flatly, giving König a moment to quiet his fury as the man turns his attention back to you. “Maybe a traveler slipped into the kingdom, it has nothing to do with König and myself. Why are you here?”

If he hadn’t already told you a thousand times earlier that morning when he took you in the garden, laid you down in a bed of blue and purple wildflowers, König would have told you he loved you right then. You were true, protecting him and risking your own head as well.

“That’s the thing,” the man begins with a laugh entirely devoid of amusement. “Your apprentice here was under similar scrutiny while he was in service to the king. A dead man brought back to life…” he waves his hand as he speaks, staring up at the ceiling as though he’s recounting poetry instead of listing the reasoning why he wanted to have your lover decapitated. “… killed ten good knights. We never suspected him at the time, but all of this…” He shrugs his shoulders and raises his brow, looking somehow even more insufferable than before.

You cross the room to gather the letter signed off by The Guild, detailing your apprentice’s arrival and thrust it into the man’s face. “He would have never passed any sort of eligibility exam if that were the case, and you sent him here.”

The man takes the letter with a click of his tongue before he laughs again. “We didn’t,” he says as he taps the signature at the bottom, hardly a signature at all, only a messy scrawl, the guild master’s name even spelled incorrectly.

König didn’t meet your gaze when you looked to him then.

You made a promise to him you would figure this all out, and you would. You just needed to buy some time, slip some wolfsbane into his tea—

“On behalf of The Guild, I do apologize for the trouble this monster has caused…”

There is no time.

“I’ll be sure that he and his rotting pets are disposed of prop—“

You’re clutching at the dagger König had left on the side table without even thinking it over, fingers curled so tightly around the grip, your knuckles felt alight. The man’s voice is silenced the moment he notices as he takes a wary step away from you. It’s not, really, that you could ever even see yourself taking a life, you never have, but the thought of losing König over a horrible chance in the stars that some uncaring god cursed him with makes bile crawl up the back of your throat and white hot fury course through your veins with all the subtlety of a stampede.

It wasn’t his fault.

König places himself between the two of you and curls his arm around you protectively. If lying for him hadn’t already resigned you to the same fate, drawing the dagger assuredly had. He gently pries the dagger from your hand and tucks your face against his chest, just as he had before when he tried to correct the accidental gift of life he had bestowed to the deer, only this time… you feel the pull of his muscles, you hear sounds of the dagger meeting it’s mark as he cuts through the interrogator’s tender flesh. It takes mere seconds for you to know his blade has struck true, the dying man eliciting a weak gurgling cry from his torn throat as König drops the dagger to the floor with a clatter and strokes your hair.

He makes you stand outside while he cleans up his mess.

A sane woman would run, she would count her losses and look back on her time spent with this unhinged man with criticism. You find that you are not a sane woman when you realize the tears falling freely down your cheeks are not of fear or anger at your own situation, but at the knowledge that he’s suffered being shunned on his own for so long; that he’s killed without remorse because this is what it takes for someone like him to survive at all.

When he finally returns from burying the body and scrubbing the blood from your floor, you readily embrace him and he nuzzles into your hair.

“Es tut mir leid,” he huffs out against you, pulling you so close to him you think, pray, he’ll never let go. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not and you both know it, but you reassure him with your words and soft kisses to his cheeks as he wipes away your tears. “We can not stay here.”

We. Us. Together.

Something breaks in him at your words, and he shuts his eyes tightly to fight back the tears like claws at his eyes.

“So, tell me where we’ll go.”

He tells you of a place he read about in a book, somewhere across the sea and past a stretch of hills where the accidents he may cause won’t have him looked upon like a monster, where you can love one another in comfort, a place he’s dreamed about since he was a boy and found out just what he was when he reanimated his mother’s beloved cat. He tells you of his father’s cruelty, that a cat’s claws aren’t the only thing that’s left him riddled with scar tissue.

He tells you everything as you pack your things and begin a long walk to a shoddy harbor by the sea, his hand in your own as your board the ship to a new home, a new beginning.

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

The Gang's All Here

Biker!John Price X Wife!Reader

 It was adorable, you were the mom of the group when it came to everything, especially when they were on leave. You’d invite everyone over and feed them until they were all too full.

a/n:this fic was inspired by this GORGEOUS artwork by @yakowo and I could not get the idea out of my head, also for anyone who voted in favor for the tattoos? you're welcome (P.S. I'm so sorry for making you guys wait MONTHS for this!)

(These are the tattoos I picture John having!)

John wasn’t the type of person that you’d expect to come onto base riding a motorcycle, a Harley Davidson no less. So, when Soap and Gaz were outside cracking jokes together their jaws dropped as John parked the roaring beast. When the hell had he managed to find the time to ride? It felt like they’d been gone for the last year nonstop. Gaz had heard all about how much you missed John. It was adorable, you were the mom of the group when it came to everything, especially when they were on leave. You’d invite everyone over and feed them until they were all too full.

“Laswell approved the time off, we’re gonna get to spend Halloween with the missus this year.” Gaz was probably more excited than anyone.

It may have been due to the fact you were all planning on matching, Gaz had picked Simon’s name from the hat, while you and Johnny were going to be matching. John downright refused, saying he couldn’t trust the boys to pick his costume. He’d made you swear to secrecy, no one was allowed to know his costume until Halloween. You weren’t complaining though, not after he’d promised to let you help ‘grease him up’.

“Better not get too rowdy this year, lord knows Johnny nearly got arrested last time.” Of course that had been because someone had tried to roughly grab you when John was off getting you drinks.

The boys had always been quite protective of you, doing whatever they could to make sure you were safe and keep all the creeps away. You’d been married to their captain the entire time they’d all known one another, so you were the co-captain in their eyes. Johnny was definitely the most protective, he saw you as a little sister(even though you were older than him). Simon would simply glare at anyone who looked at you wrong, scaring them off before they could utter a single word. Gaz would throw down with anyone who dared utter a single bad thing about you, how dare you disrespect his co-captain!

“He said he’d be on his best behavior, something about not wanting to anger the missus this time.” You’d turned into a scolding mother when Johnny began to act out, it was hilarious to watch.

John had thrown you over his shoulder even while you were kicking and screaming to be put down so you could continue your scolding. Johnny learned that night not to piss you off lest he deal with your wrath for the rest of the night. It was a comical thing, knowing you could insight fear into a man who sees death for a living.

“Better not, she told me they’re doing matching costumes and I can’t risk her needin’ to get a costume last minute.” That wasn’t to say you wouldn’t be able to find something from your closet, but you’d planned this months prior.

“Simon and I are too, you’re gonna be the odd man out captain.” Gaz smirked over at the other man, noticing the way his brow raised slightly.

“You and Ghost are wearing matching costumes? How’d you convince him?” Simon wasn’t afraid to let loose and enjoy himself, but wearing a costume to match with Kyle? That was shocking.

“Said he wanted to wear something to help get some attention, can’t say much else.” Gaz was going to keep his lips sealed until halloween had arrived, it was going to be the surprise of the century.

John knew better than to try and pry, this was out of his hands and as long as you were happy, he was happy. His mind began to wander for a few seconds, what would the holidays be like when you had your own little tots running around. You’d probably dress them up into cute halloween costumes and take them trick or treating. It didn’t sound like such a horrible thing at the moment, seeing you take the little ones up to the doors to get candy you’d sneak for yourself. No, no thinking about things like that when you’re at work and have important things to do, like a mountain of paperwork.

“Keep an eye on things and make sure the new recruits aren’t acting like idiots, please.” John waited for Gaz to acknowledge his words before heading down to his office.

The picture from your wedding day was the only one he’d been willing to take to base with him, not wanting to risk the wrong person knowing about you. His wedding ring sat alongside his dog tags, resting against his chest every day. It was a reminder that no matter how stressful things could be, he would always go home to you at the end of the day. They weren’t due for another assignment until the end of November, mainly because Laswell needed more intel first. Maybe that was the only reason they were allowed the few weeks of leave that was granted. Oh well.

It was nearing seven at night by the time John realized he hadn’t so much as left his desk to get a drink or even a bite to eat. Shit, you were going to absolutely ream his ass when he got home and you found out. This wasn’t the first time, and absolutely wasn’t going to be the last that he’d completely forgotten about himself. Simon had given him hell from time to time, telling him he needed to eat before you showed up at the base yourself. It had only happened once, though that was more due to the fact he needed the paperwork he’d forgotten and not because he hadn’t left his desk for..ten hours.

Standing up and stretching his tired limbs he groaned at the exertion and cracking from his idle bones. Shit, he had definitely been sitting for too long if standing for a few seconds sent shivers down his spine almost instantly. Time to get something to eat and head home for the next few weeks. He’d barely made it out of his office before Johnny was running over with what could only be described as childlike glee.

“Captain! Was hopin’ I could catch you.” The plus side of working alongside Johnny was that he could get shit done when necessary, the downside is when he was excited the man could talk forever.

“Just grabbing a quick bite and heading out, have you got your leave papers yet?” John didn’t have much time to talk, not if he wanted to make it home before you were in bed already.

“Just this mornin’, I wanted to ask about the bike.” Johnny was nervous, given that the last time he’d seen one was nothing more than a quick glance on their last mission.

“What about it?” John turned into the cafeteria, grabbing a plastic wrapped sandwich that was most likely made that morning.

Johnny wrung his hands together nervously, if questioned he would vehemently deny that his palms had become sweaty when asking his higher-up about something as simple as a motorcycle. Maybe he could just ask you about it instead, surely John had told you some things here and there and you’d managed to pick up any information.

“I uhh, I was wondering where you got it, she’s a beaut.” There, he’d ripped off the bandaid and didn’t need to make this any harder than it needed to be.

“Found her through a seller, she was in pretty rough shape so I’ve been fixin’ her up on leaves.” The bike was John’s pride and joy, second of course to you, but he loved his harley in a different way.

“Oh! Okay, that’s cool.” Johnny nodded, keeping a slight distance between himself and his captain.

“Any reason you’re asking?” John grabbed a bottle of water before turning to sit down at one of the open tables.

Johnny felt his nerves skyrocket, how does one admit they’d always wanted to ride but were too afraid of nearly getting themselves killed? His mother had given him hell for it, saying he’d lose his life by being reckless. It had deterred the idea for years, but seeing so many bikes made him want to do it anyway. 

“No reason, see you later cap.” Johnny nodded once before heading out of the room.

John wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t confused, it wasn’t often that people even saw him on the rumbling biped vehicle, but given the opportunity he always took it. Nothing more invigorating than feeling the wind whip around you, the sound of the bike echoing behind. You would beg John to take you for a ride constantly, especially on date night.

The recruits were quiet as they sat amongst themselves, discussing what their next drills would possibly be. It suddenly hit John how old he was, he’d been so used to making sure that everyone else was taken care of that he hadn’t taken the time to really look at life. You’d both discussed having children when the both of you were truly ready. If it came down that neither of you would truly be ready for a child, then neither of you would become parents. He’d just be the fun uncle that could send the kiddos home hyped up on sugar.

After he’d finished his sandwich and water it was time to head out. Any paperwork was sent off for review, and if it wasn’t up to Laswell’s standards she could wait until he was back. Getting home and relaxing for the rest of the night was high on his priority list at the moment. Maybe the two of you could order take out instead of cooking, maybe even a glass of wine to go along with it. You’d be dealing with everyone in a few days anyway, god where had the year gone that it was already Halloween again.

The sun was nearly gone by the time John had made it out of his office, grabbing the keys to his bike and heading towards the garage. Ghost’ voice was booming, words sharp as a whip towards whomever he was angry with. John sighed deeply before turning towards the shooting range, if it was a new recruit this could get ugly fast. And much to his annoyance it was not one, but four new recruits, each of them looked terrified as Simon nearly towered over them.

“Do you think this is a joke? Something to laugh about?!” Ghost was enraged, hands clenched into fists by his side.

“No sir.” They spoke in unison, each with their heads down, gazes locked on the floor.

“The next time you come in here thinkin’ you’re gonna play with the weapons, I will have you removed, permanently.” Ghost took gun safety quite seriously, one wrong move could end the lives of multiple people.

“Yes sir.” They all nodded, waiting for further instructions.

“Get out of my sight.” Ghost crossed his arms over his chest, waiting until they all scrambled away before turning to face John.

There were no words shared between the two men, neither of them needed to say anything to get their points across anyway. However, John wanted to make sure that Simon would be alright before leaving for the night.

“Still coming over for Halloween?” John was still curious on what Gaz had picked for the costumes, couldn’t be too bad.

“I promised your missus I would anyway.” No one on the task force could tell you no, it was adorable.

“I’ll see you then, make sure the recruits stay out of trouble.” John nodded at him, heading down to the garage so he could get home to you.

The night air was cold, bike rumbling beneath him as he wound his way along the roads that lead to your shared home. He’d sent a quick text to you before he left, telling you to order dinner so the two of you could relax together. Good food, a glass of wine, and the most amazing wife that he could ever ask for sounded like a perfect night to him. Now if he could ignore the clawing thoughts that came with work that would be even better. Laswell knew better than to call him unless it was an absolute emergency that he needed to attend to.

The light was on outside as he pulled into the driveway, parking the bike and waiting until it was settled to step off. The sound of music echoed through the partially opened window, the sound of your voice following along with the lyrics. John snickered to himself, it was definitely a song from your younger years, it was definitely a 90’s boyband. If you were letting loose, what would he walk into? Shaking off his shoulders he headed into the house, locking the door behind him before slipping off his boots.

“Baby!” You ran over, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight embrace.

“Hello to you too, having a party without me?” John’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush to his body.

“Never, can’t have a party without the man of the hour.” You pressed a light kiss to his lips, giggling as he tried to pull you back for more.

The two of you laughed happily, dancing together until the doorbell rang loudly, letting you know your dinner had arrived. You had mentioned a movie you’d wanted to see earlier that week, talking about how scary it was from your friends. John could handle some little movie no problem at all, everything about it was fake anyway.

“Alright, got our food, drinks, time to turn on the movie.” You wiggled into your seat, pressing play on the remote before digging in to your food.

The movie, for lack of a better word, was absolutely terrible. It was sort of a tradition in your home that during October you would watch corny horror movies whenever John was home. It was something you’d been adamant on, refusing to let the tradition die out. Of course you’d watch the classic horror movies to help break up the monotony of the bad ones. John had insisted you watch The Thing recently, until you remembered the kennel scene. Watching poor animals, even fake ones, get hurt always makes you upset.

“What do we watch next? We’ve got a few days before the party, and you don’t need to go back until after.” You popped a few pieces of popcorn into your mouth, chewing slowly so you didn’t get any kernels stuck between your teeth.

John pondered for a brief moment, he’d loved watching the classics, but maybe something new could be better? No, something from the 90’s maybe.

“What about Candyman?” It was one of your favorites, having grown up as a horror fan you clung onto the infamous movie.

“A man after my own heart.” You giggled and grabbed your remote to turn the movie on. 

The only light in your living room, besides the TV of course, were the string lights you’d hung up in the middle of September. You’d claimed it would help give ambience to the movie watching experience, and John definitely had to admit that it had. It gave off an eerie vibe that he couldn’t quite place, but given that it was Halloween he wasn’t going to complain.

You could practically recite the movie, the way Tony Todd portrayed the character of Candyman so well never ceased to amaze you. You’d wanted to have a career in film making, but given that the industry was one of the hardest to get into, your dreams were crushed. 

You wouldn’t have met John had you followed your dreams.

You hummed softly, it was true, had you followed your heart you would have never met your husband. Sure you probably would’ve met someone in Hollywood, but it wouldn’t have been the same.

“Wait, what are you wearing for Halloween?” You glanced over at your husband.

“I’ve got a pair of overalls I’m gonna grease up. Go dressed as a mechanic.” John was nothing short of efficient. He’d found them one day after going through his clothes and tossing out anything that was either too old, or had holes to be thrown away.

“Hmm, that works.” You turned and put your attention back onto the movie on your screen.

You and Johnny would be matching, while Simon and Kyle would technically be matching. It had started as a joke but after discussing it, you had all agreed and the plans were set in stone. The costumes arrived a few weeks after you’d ordered them, the boys all paying you back right away. John of course had no idea what you were wearing, and you weren’t going to tell him until the very night of. It was going to be quite the surprise, you couldn’t wait for him to see.

Halloween

You were pulling on your undergarments, not wanting to spoil any surprises your husband might find later before quickly pulling on your dress. You’d been tempted to order a wig to truly match but you didn’t want to risk it. Instead you fixed up your hair, placing the headband before pulling on a pair of pantyhose. After a quick glance in the mirror you were happy with your look, pulling on the shoes and heading down to the living room. The boys had all crammed into your home, each of them taking their respective costumes to go and change. John had run to the store to get one final bag of candy, promising he’d be back in time to head to the party.

Kyle walked out in his amazing glory, the fluffy coat showing off his amazing physique.

“I have to admit, you make an amazing Ken.” You snickered and twirled your finger, telling him to give you a full view.

The costume was perfect, down to the headband and sunglasses he’d managed to find last minute. It was the only thing missing out of his entire get up.

“What can I say? I was born to be a total stud.” He smirked before bursting into laughter, both of you righting yourselves as Johnny walked out.

“I forgot how much I hated wearing boots sometimes.” Johnny muttered to himself.

The two of you had dressed as Velma and Daphne, Johnny had offered to be Velma since he was already a natural brunette. You weren’t going to argue with the man, the dress gave your husband even easier access.

“If you can tuck the bottom of the sweater under itself, it’ll look better.” You walked over and helped him adjust the dark orange sweater, brushing down the fabric of his skirt.

“Bettah?” Johnny glanced at you, hoping you could head out soon.

“Much.” You smiled and stepped back from him.

Before any of you could say anything else Simon walked out of the guest bathroom, the hot pink outfit causing all of your jaws to drop open. How Kyle had convinced him to dress up as cowboy Barbie you weren’t entirely sure, but god did he look fantastic.

“I have to admit, you look fucking hot right now.” Your eyes were wide, hands reaching up to mess with the green scarf wrapped around your neck.

“Thanks, this is all Kyle’s idea.” Simon tossed his bag down beside the couch.

“I’m not complaining, those pants are doing so much for your ass right now.” Your cheeks heated up before you caught the way Johnny was also eyeing him. At least you weren’t alone.

The sound of the front door opening suddenly caught your attention, your husband made it home with a few minutes to spare. Such a procrastinator that one was, now you’d be rushing out the door to get to the party.

“Sorry! Nearly got into a fight with someone who almost hit me on the way home. I just need to get dressed.” John dropped the candy into the large bowl, turning to face the rest of you.

His eyes landed on Simon first, a slight brow raised before he saw Kyle, followed by Johnny, and then lastly you. 

“Don’t tell me. Kyle and Simon are Barbie and Ken, and you two are Daphne and Velma?” John snickered as he slipped off his shoes quickly.

“Good job, now go get dressed so we can leave!” You all but pushed your husband towards your bedroom.

You could discuss the costumes later when you were actually where you needed to be for the night, right now was not the time. The plus side is that you were within walking distance of the party, the downside was that you were definitely going to be late. 

“Jeez, your arms look even bigger.” Kyle blurted out as Simon flexed his arms. Johnny was practically drooling at the sight.

“Alright, you guys head outside and I’ll see what’s taking John so long.” You waited until they’d all left, mainly to make sure poor Johnny didn’t pass out.

Shaking your head you made your way down to your bedroom, pushing the door open slowly so you didn’t startle him.

“Hey hun, are you…” You trailed off as you saw your husband, the white tank top he’d dirtied and greased up showed off the sleeves of tattoos as well as his back piece beautifully.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, let’s go hun.” John spritzed a couple sprays of cologne before heading over to you.

You watched the way his muscles ripped beneath the fabric, eyes glancing down to his legs beneath the coveralls. The arms over his coveralls were wrapped around his waist, giving him the look of being an actual mechanic. Jesus you weren’t going to be able to keep your hands off of him at this rate.

“I’ll have to remember to have someone take a photo of us when we get there.” You grabbed your wristlet and headed out of the house with John.

The other three, that were locked in a heated discussion, all fell silent as they saw their captain in a tank top. 

“Holy shit, you’re covered in tattoos?!” Kyle was floored, he’d recently found out his captain rode motorcycles, but seeing this? This was all new.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve had these for years.” John merely shrugged, wrapping an arm around your waist as you all made the short walk to Kate’s house.

The music was loud enough that you could hear it outside, but it was clear that everyone was still able to have conversations. Kyle, Simon, and Johnny all took off the moment you got inside with John, causing you to roll your eyes. You just wanted one photo to at least remember the night, the costumes looked so good too!

“I’ll make sure they take a photo before we head home tonight, promise.” John pressed a kiss to your hair, leading you further into the party.

“Thank you.” You smiled as you leaned against him, avoiding any of the grease that could ruin your dress.

The party was lively, everyone complimenting your costume as well as John’s even asking a few questions about his tattoos. John was proud of the work he’d had done, especially the back piece he’d sat through over five sessions for. You loved when John got the recognition he deserved. The man was downright gorgeous, and you were reveling in the fact that he’d chosen you out of everyone.

The hours flew by, the drinks flowing through your system before John cut you off. He wasn’t going to risk getting you drunk like last time. You’d taken photos with all of your friends, giggling at the couples costume that Farah and Alex had done. He’d dressed up as a dinosaur while she was dressed like a handler. Everyone took photos with John, claiming they wanted to show off the tattoos he had and see if they could get something half as good. You knew better, it was only because of how gorgeous your husband was. You weren’t blind, even in regular clothes John was the most attractive man you’d ever met.

“Hey, why don’t I take you home? It’s getting late anyway.” John could see the way your eyes were drooping closed, exhaustion seeping into your bones.

“We gotta round up the boys too.” You’d offered up the spare bedrooms so they didn’t have to worry about driving home so late at night.

“Already did, sweetheart, so let’s go.” John scooped you up into his arms, saying goodbyes to everyone before making your way out of the house.

Your eyes slowly slipped closed as you rested against his chest, your feet sore from standing in the kitten heels for the last five hours. John didn’t so much as complain as he carried you to your shared home, opening the door to let everyone inside. Johnny didn’t hesitate to rip off his boots, tossing them aside before ripping off the sweater. John raised a brow at the younger man, watching as he hurriedly picked up his discarded items.

“Sorry, sir.” Johnny wasn’t going to let them lie around, would never do so in someone else’s home, but getting to strip down was his only thought.

“Just clean up, that's all I ask.” John turned and headed up to your bedroom, laying you on the plush mattress before turning to change into his own pajamas.

Your soft snores filled the air, chest rising and falling slowly as you slept peacefully on your bed. John chuckled and finished getting changed, turning to help you out of your own clothes. His eyes widened as he realized you had gotten new lingerie, jaw dropping open. He’d talk to you about it tomorrow, right now you were exhausted and needed some sleep.

After grabbing one of his more oversized shirts he helped ease you into the fabric, pulling off your headband and setting everything onto the dresser. You hadn’t so much as flinched the entire time, assuring John that you were completely asleep. He headed down to the living room, making sure the other three were settled before turning off the lights. It was fun getting to see everyone dressed up, simply enjoying themselves with good company.

“Thank you, for being the best thing I could ever ask for.” John crawled into bed beside you, pulling you flush to his chest.

You murmured softly in your sleep, wrapping your arms around his waist. There were definitely some things that the two of you needed to talk about. 

Those could wait, for now he would simply hold you and enjoy himself.

tagging: @gaylemonshark @thesinsoflust @dante-mightdie @mh073099

[arias-diaryy]

Under New Management

Nobunaga x Reader

warnings: yandere, fem reader

synopsis: Following Uvo's death, Nobunaga decides to take you in.

3.2k words / this is a reupload of an older fic from my (now deleted) old account, so it probs looks familiar. i didn't have any new fic lined up for Nobu's birthday so ur gonna have to take this, sorry!

Nobunaga closes the door to Uvo’s place behind him. The place is familiar, and it’s as if Uvogin could come back at any moment. There are a few day-old beer cans on the living room coffee table and one of his large jackets thrown over the sofa, waiting to be worn again. If he was any less jaded, he might have thought Uvogin was still alive.

The house, alas, is empty. It’s an older building on the outskirts of its nearest town. It’s one of many slightly run-down homes that are left (mostly) unoccupied in the area. It’s not derelict by any means, but it's probably seen better days. He isn’t here to judge the foundations of the house though, how there are some cracks in the wall from where the door was slammed with too much force or how there are weak spots in the floor. No, he’s here for you. 

You, who's down in the basement, are probably still waiting for Uvogin. You, whom he’s only met a handful of times, spoken to even less. He’s jerked off to you more times than he’d like to admit, something Nobunaga would have never admitted to Uvogin, not when the man was so finicky over you.

Nobunaga continues to walk through the home, a chapstick tube catching his eye on the counter. It was placed with some spare change, sunglasses that certainly belonged to Uvo and various keys. He pockets the keys, assuming he might need them later. Holding the chapstick in his hand, he examines it more closely. This was probably yours, based on the ‘Vanilla Apple” flavoring. With almost no shame and a mild sense of entitlement, he applies the chapstick to his lips. It’s like an indirect kiss. He puts that as well in his pocket.

His mind continues to linger on you as he takes his time looking around. He wonders how he’ll break the news to you, he isn’t sure what approach to take. He wonders if you’ll cry, or if you’d even believe him. You two have seldom spoken with each other, Uvo did most of the talking for you on the rare occasions you were present when Nobunaga visited. The longest conversation Nobunaga ever had with you probably didn’t even last ten minutes, and it consisted of him asking questions while you gave very short responses. Uvogin had always been in earshot. As if daring one of you (mostly Nobunaga) to say something out of line. It previously hadn’t been an issue if the two of them went after the same woman, but now all of a sudden Uvo was so uppity about if Nobu even looked at you for too long.

Nobunaga can remember feeling a sense of annoyance at your very existence in the beginning. It ebbed and flowed, but it was always consistent. The more time Uvogin spent with you, the less time Nobunaga got to spend with him. In addition to the fact that Nobu couldn’t make a suggestive joke about you without Uvogin snapping at him, it didn’t make Nobunaga particularly fond of you. He hadn’t even met you yet and already had a soured image of you. It didn’t help that it seemed like everyone else had someone to return home to, meanwhile, all Nobu had been his right hand.

The day Nobunaga did get to meet you, he still didn’t see what it was about you that had Uvogin so worked up. You were cute, sure, but he couldn’t point out anything remarkable, other than that you had particularly nice legs. Maybe whatever it was about you was something only Uvogin saw. You didn’t say anything to him, which he was fine with. You were probably just shy. Uvo joked later that you didn’t like him very much, which couldn’t have been true. Nobu hadn’t made that bad of a first impression, surely.

It was only in the coming weeks that his distaste for you would warp into something else. You were cute, and something much more tangible than the women in erotic magazines. A thought crossed his mind that he’d probably be as uptight as Uvo was about you if you were his. Maybe if Uvo wasn’t so strict about who you got to interact with, you’d give Nobunaga a chance. 

He idles about for a few minutes, a strange suspense hanging in the air that only he can sense. He wonders if you’re still down there or if you somehow escaped. Maybe you’ve withered away. He wonders if you think about him or even remember him. As he stands in front of the heavy basement door, he supposes it’s time to see what all the fuss over you was about.

-

If you had to guess, you’d say it’s been about a week since you last saw Uvo.

The basement isn’t so bad. It’s got an old television to keep you entertained. It only works half of the time, but it’s the thought that counts. There are a few blankets and the mattress you sleep on is comfortable. Uvogin left you with some water bottles and food (mostly snacks) to keep you from starving to death, though he usually wasn’t gone for more than two weeks. Even then, you were only resigned to the basement if he was going somewhere far. You never knew where he went, and it all seemed to be pretty last minute when he did go, but he always told you when he’d come back. He should have come back days ago. 

Part of you hopes to see him again. All things considered, he wasn’t the worst. If you can look past the obvious (the threats of violence if you ever stepped out of line, which you stopped doing months ago, and the kidnapping and the inability to ever leave), Uvo wasn’t so bad. He went out of his way to make sure you didn’t go hungry. He brought you gifts and anything you asked for. He made you happy.

Maybe being forced to be a violent man's live-in girlfriend for 11 months has taken a toll on your mental health. But you were alive. The few bruises he gave you were long faded. Uvogin was good to you, surely he wouldn’t abandon you in his basement now. Wouldn’t he have given you a heads-up? Had he gotten bored? Have you been too good? Maybe you should have acted out more. You haven’t been able to sleep much. Every noise would wake you up in the dead of night because of how much you wanted to see Uvogin again.

Your head perks up at the sound of the basement door slowly opening. It’s not Uvogin, it can’t be. You would have heard his heavy footsteps, and he would have announced himself somehow. Instead, you’re met with a man who is only faintly familiar to you. He’s tall with a face that’s on the gaunt side, though not outright unhealthy. His clothing doesn’t stand out, with beige pants and a green long sleeve. His most distinct feature is his hair, which is long and slightly greasy from what you can see.

“You’re still here, that’s good.” He says nonchalantly, as if you had anywhere else to go. Nobunaga’s eyes drift to the chains around your ankle. “You must have given him a lot of trouble if he had to chain you up.” He remarks, trying to ease up any tension with what was meant to be a joke. It isn’t working. You stare at him blankly, scanning his face. You’ve seen this guy before, but at the moment, his face isn’t recognizable to you. Nobunaga sighs, looking you over. You look sick, and he isn’t sure if you actually are or if it’s the unflattering lighting of the basement. Once locating the light switch, he flicks it on, and you don’t look much better. There are dark circles beneath your eyes, your lips are cracked, and your complexion is dull and lifeless.

Nobunaga comes closer, crouching down next to the mattress. He takes the chain into his hands, eyeing it over. It isn’t particularly thick or very heavy. It attaches to the wall, and there’s a cuff around your ankle to keep you from going far. He hadn’t found an obvious key in the basement, so he settles for using his strength (and nen) to simply break the metal chain without warning. The way you flinch doesn’t go unnoticed, but at least you’ll be able to walk out of here now. You scoot away from him, sitting up and against the wall rather than laying lethargically on your side. 

“Hey, come on, we’ve met before,” Nobunaga says, the discontentment in his voice thinly veiled. He fishes your chapstick out of his pants pocket. “Look, here. This is yours, isn’t it?” After a few seconds of warily staring at him, it finally clicks. It’s your kidnapper's equally strange friend, whose name you barely remembered. You tentatively take the chapstick from him, untwisting the cap, and apply some of the chapstick liberally, and there’s an awful fluttering feeling in Nobunaga’s chest.

He wonders if you’d somehow notice that he just used it minutes earlier. He averts his gaze, suddenly remembering the key ring he pocketed away. Again, without warning, he grasps your ankle, holding you in place as he tries out the different keys on the cuff. After some trying, it eventually comes off. There's a slight imprint of the cuff on your skin, but it hasn’t torn or broken your skin. 

“You’re Nobunaga.” You croak out, finally remembering his name. He grins, relief audible in his voice. “There you go, I knew you couldn’t have forgotten me.” You don’t smile back. Something must be wrong if Uvo was letting someone else get so close. Nobunaga’s gaze meets yours again, and he waits for you to speak. He’s expecting some sort of thanks for his good deeds. “Where’s Uvogin?” His expression falls slightly. Right, he forgot that you still think Uvogin is going to come home at some point.

“He’s dead.” 

There’s a heavy pause after he speaks. Nobunaga stares at you, waiting for you to emote, but you only stare back. He had hoped, expected, that if anyone else were to outwardly share in his grief it would be you. He stifles a frustrated sigh. The other members of the Spider grieved for Uvogin, nobody was thrilled about his death, Nobunaga knows that yet he can’t ignore the feeling that none of them truly understood. He chalks it up to shock, surely you’ll properly react to Uvogin’s death in the coming days.

The man wastes little time, not wanting to sit around in the dusty basement any longer. Without warning, Nobunaga takes you by the wrist and pulls you up, forcing you to stand on wobbly legs. He’s all too eager to have you lean on him for support as you get used to walking again. The days of being chained to the ground hadn’t done your muscles any good. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Nobunaga’s words replay in your mind, yet they never truly stick. For half of a second, you’re relieved that your kidnapper is dead. Not arrested, dead. On the other hand, you’re now left with an equally dangerous man. What exactly was going to happen to you now? You weren’t clueless about Uvogin’s crimes, far from it. Uvogin boasted about the stealing and killing he did. At first, you thought it was a scare tactic, something to keep you from acting out, but he was truly proud of his proclivity for violence. Would you be killed? Surely the Troupe wouldn’t just let you go, it’d never be that easy.

As if Nobunaga could see the cogs turning in your mind, he speaks up again. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you from now on.” His voice takes a softer tone, trying to be reassuring. Each step up and out of the basement only makes the pit in your stomach deeper, to the point where you’re starting to feel sick.

Nobunaga barely picks up on your inner turmoil past what’s written all over your face. In his mind, him coming for you should be a great relief (and in a way, it is. You might have withered away in the basement if nobody bothered to come for you). Aside from the obvious fact that he can't let you go free, he doubts you’d be okay on your own at this point.

You’ve been dependent on Uvogin for anything like food or attention for nearly a year. As far as Nobunaga is concerned, you wouldn’t do well if you were thrown back into the real world and forced to take care of yourself. You might as well be a bird that’s had its wings clipped. Besides, it’s not like anyone else in the Troupe was going to take you in. Some of the other members had their own partners to occupy themselves with, Feitan even suggested outright killing you since you probably knew too much about the Troupe. It was only right that Nobunaga got to have you, he was the only one who was willing to anyway.

Besides, Chrollo did say that he could make the final decision about what happens to you.

He gets lost in his own thoughts; so caught up in his fantasies about his soon-to-be domestic life with you, that he almost doesn’t notice the way you dig your heels into the ground once he’s got you out of the basement and back on floor level. Nobunaga looks back at you, the corners of his lips twitching downward. 

“Come on, it’s fine. I told you that you’re safe with me.” He says, an impatient edge to his voice as he continues his firm hold of your wrist. “Do you want to bring some of your things with you?” Nobunaga says it as if he’s extending an olive branch. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you blink at him. “What?” “We aren’t going to be staying here.” Nobunaga says like it’s obvious. “You’re coming home with me.”

The apartment is quiet, save for the new pitter-patter of rain outside. You stand there idly, watching Nobunaga go through your and Uvogin’s belongings in the bedroom you used to share with Uvo. What right did he have to put his hands on your things? He shouldn’t be here, you think. You hold your tongue, the words not coming easy to you. You don’t attempt to help him or give any input on what clothes you want to take and what you want to leave behind. 

“I don’t believe you.” You say abruptly, still standing in the doorway. Nobunaga goes through the closet with his back to you, looking for a backpack or spare luggage. For half of a second, he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “Are you sure he’s dead?” You ask, which answers the question that was on the tip of his tongue. His expression falters slightly, but he doesn’t turn to meet your gaze. “I’m positive.” Nobunaga says with a strange finality to his tone.

He’s found a decent backpack now, more focused on deciding what belongings of yours to bring and which to leave behind. As far as he’s concerned, you two will have all the time in the world to talk about Uvogin once Nobunaga just gets you back to his place. It doesn’t even cross his mind that you wouldn’t be 100% thrilled at the prospect of being transferred over to his care.

You aren’t willing to drop the conversation topic though. You don’t want to believe Uvogin is gone, but there’s no way he’d willingly hand you over to this guy, right? “How? How did he die?” You press for answers, wondering if this is some prank. Nobunaga sighs, still not bothering to turn back to face you. “We can talk about that later.”

He says, taking your clothes out of the room’s dresser and putting them in the backpack. “You’re probably hungry. Why don’t you go get yourself something to eat? I’ll finish up here.” He says dismissively, effectively shooing you off. You tentatively leave the bedroom doorway after about a minute of silence, surprised that Nobunaga is so easily letting you out of his sight.

Wandering over to the kitchen, you numbly go about making yourself something to eat. It feels like muscle memory at this point, you’re so used to fixing up a sandwich for Uvogin. Today, though, most of the ingredients you’d usually use aren’t at your disposal. The lunch meat that was in the refrigerator expired last week, and there’s no cheese left. All you’re able to come up with is a sandwich with mayonnaise and some tomato slices.

You eat slowly, your appetite diminished from the turn of events and from how bland your sandwich is. Your eyes shift to the front door, and you can just barely hear Nobunaga back in Uvo’s bedroom. Maybe if you timed it right, you could get out of here. God knew if the front door was locked, but if you didn’t at least try, then you’d never know. You can hear the rain outside more clearly now. You’d be risking getting sick by running out in the rain, but that’s a small price to pay for freedom.

What would you even do, though? Where could you go that the Troupe wouldn’t follow? By the time you gather the nerve to take a few steps out of the kitchen, Nobu’s finished packing. “Do you feel better after eating something?” He asks, his voice catching you by surprise. He doesn’t comment on the quality of your sandwich. You choose not to answer him.

The rain picks up, now it’s impossible to treat it as a soothing white noise. It’s loud and you can hear the roaring winds with it. “I guess we can just stay here until the rain dies down.” Nobunaga proposes, and he motions for you to follow him. He sits on one of the two couches in Uvo’s living room, expecting you to sit next to him. You take your seat on the second couch, and Nobunaga’s able to hide his disappointment well enough.

He takes the remote and turns the television on, keeping the volume low. The news channel only talks about the current storm, it seems like you’ll both be stuck here for at least a few more hours. You focus on the news reporter, not wanting to look at Nobunaga. You can feel his staring, you know he’s waiting for you to talk to him. 

“What’s going to happen to me?” You finally break the silence, and Nobunaga seems just about amused at your inquiry. “I told you, I’m going to be taking care of you from now on.” He says it slowly, as if you didn’t understand him the first time.

His answer is too vague for you to do anything with, or maybe it’s the brain fog from not eating much in these past days. Nobunaga continues to look at you as if you were a beloved houseplant while you think over what he’s said. After a long pause, you finally respond. “I want to go home.” Once again, his smile falters and his voice returns to a more neutral one. “That isn’t going to happen. Your best option is to come just with me.” 

Nobunaga waits for you to say something, to give any indication that you at least understand your circumstances. You don’t though, rather you choose to pretend that you’re invested in anything the news anchor is saying. He’s confident that you’ll come around, though; it’s not like you have anyone else to rely on. 

[bulletswithribbons]

"Fucking hate journalists"

Kai Anderson X Fem!reader // NSFW

Warnings: Kai Anderson. You guess it. Very little plot, degrading, non-con/dob-con, mentions of murder, implied masochism, rough oral sex (m receiving), gun play, slut shaming, hair pulling, let me know if I missed any.

Summary: Kai breaks in your house to teach you your place after non-stop asking him back handed questions during the interview. Events eventually take a twisted turn, you were never that much of a good girl anyways.

Word count: 2.5k

a/n: This is my first ever fic, I've read plenty and wrote smut before so I'm pretty confident. But first time publishing so here we go.

Interviewing Kai right after his campaign was not the best call at all, especially the way you kept pressing him. You knew you shouldn’t have but this is war whether he knew it or not. You took a vow on yourself to make him expose himself on his own. You’ve always been suspicious about him but you had no proof of your accusations, and calling someone out based on your gut is not really professional, especially as a journalist. 

Even though someone had to confront him about his mistakes and fear mongering, your questions only made things worse, for you at least. You pushed too hard, making him feel small in front of the media. He could sense your suspicion with every question, and it's clear you put a big dent in his ego.

You were sitting on your desk, ticking your pen as a form of anti-stress. A bit of a mess actually, papers scattered, pens strewn about. Newspapers and magazines pile up, post-it notes plastered everywhere and a coffee cup long forgotten. Your desk lamp sits on the edge, casting a soft, warm glow in the room. You've always preferred gentle lights especially when working, it helps you think.

Your thoughts spiral around making your headache worse than it already is. How could you possibly put him down, once and for all..?

A bone-chilling breeze whispers over the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You enjoy it while it lasts, a refreshing breeze in this stifling hot night. It must have come from the window behind you, although you don't remember leaving it open... It doesn't matter. Nothing does as long as you still have work to do.

Your slender fingers reach for your white blouse, unbuttoning it. Once removed, you toss it aside, letting it fall to the floor, trying to cool your temperature down. You're digging through Kai's files, searching for a gap to use against him. It wasn't your job to do so. But as a journalist of course, you'd investigate and research to report the facts and keep people up with the facts.

Perhaps it's because you take what he says in the media personally. After all, a part of you is a feminist, a part you're not ready to let go of, at least for the sake of all the women who fought for their place in this world. You see through his manipulation tactics because you've seen them before. You know a narcissist when you see one.

"Fuck!" You shout as you throw the papers off your desk.

"Hm, come on now, how dare you throw these papers. We don't want little big mouth to lose her temper." He tsks, with an overly sweet tone dripping with sarcasm.

Shocked, you recognize the voice as you feel something hard poking you in the back of your head, trailing down to your neck, detaching your hair that was hardly holding up in the messy bun. Cold, metal. Sudden realisations hit all at once, but most importantly is the outsider in your house -your room- you pissed off earlier this day holding a gun to your head.

"Mr. Anderson, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. What the fuck are you doing in my house?!" you ask, your voice rising towards the end. You're trying your best to stay calm. One mistake, and you’re dead. Young lady in her 20s corpse’ found shot in her bedroom because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“Mr. Anderson?”He repeats after you, chuckling. “They’re always respectful when fearful.” A sinful smirk tugs his lips, a look of pride in his dark cold eyes after hearing his last name coming from your trembling lips. “But I would have to politely decline your offer. I’m here to fix the mess of a situation you’ve just created for yourself. After all, I don’t want to lose voters over something so foolish. Especially this… close to the election.”

"Like hell I—or anyone with a brain that knows right from wrong—would vote for you!" You yell as you stand up from your seat.

His jaw clenches and nostrils flare, showing his annoyance. His grip on the gun tightening as he lifts the gun up to your temple, his finger twitching on the trigger. His voice, on the other hand, remains eerily sweet. “I really think you should keep your voice down.”

You swallow, your throat drier than ever. 

His voice lowers to a whisper, "I see you started learning. Good girl, I'm proud of fast learners." He takes a step towards you, his free hand stroking your chin and cheek, his touch alone giving you goosebumps. The gun rests on your temple, his eyes darting around the room.Then his focus shifts back to you. "Get on your knees," he orders and pulls his hand away from your face.

“I’m sorry?” You rush out, your eyes widening.

“Now,” he responds, his tone dripping with impatience as he jerks his gun to signal his order. “Expecting company?” He inquires looking down at your —bra only— chest.

You crouch down on your knees, his gun still pointing to your head. “No,” you respond short and clearly. For a minute, you believe you saw him smile slightly. A smile of pride.. 

“You’re such an obedient slut, aren’t you?” He pauses, “You defied me, made a fool of me in front of everyone. That doesn't go unnoticed.” He whispers, his voice pitch getting higher towards the end.

“So you’re going to shoot me? Because I hurt your little pathetic ‘man ego’? Because I’m small and vulnerable while you’re big and strong?” You retort, fake amusement hiding your fear.

“You’re smart. Most girls aren't smart. Well, that was the plan.” His smirk widens, his tone sounding even more sadistic as he slowly traces the gun barrel around your jawline— tracing it slowly with the tip of his gun. You notice him staring at your lips. “But now, seeing how big of a mouth you have, I’m going to show you what whores like you are made for.” He informs, his tone bled dry of emotion.

“The kitchen and carrying useless men’s babies. I Get it, trust.” You lash out. Although you know keeping your mouth shut is probably the better option, especially in this exact situation. But that never really happens, at least not most of the time.

Kai’s grip tightens on the gun as his rage begins to seep through his body. His other hand darts out to your face and before you even notice it, a slap lands with a sharp crack, sending a jolt of pain rippling through your cheek and leaving you on the floor. It stings, you can feel a red mark in its wake. Leaving you feeling shocked and humiliated.

You were lying down there on the floor, your body stretched out, limbs motionless. There was no sense of ease in your posture nor the room, rather a stillness that borders on tension. Even the air itself felt stifling.

Your eyes widen at the sight of his free hand darting to his zipper, pulling it down tooth by tooth. “You see, you just know how things work.” His tone becomes condescending, he pops the button and grip the waistband of his pants pulling it down until it’s enough to pull his dick out. “You have such a delicious looking mouth. I'm sure it has been put to good use for the benefit of passing by men. I'm guessing you've had a lot of fun.” He grabs the elastic of his boxers, lowering them down over his balls and pulling out his half hard cock.

You stare at him, your face frozen in shock. “You’re sick!” you shout.

“Am I now? You're the one who's been around so many men in your life. You should be used to it by now.” He grins, his hand holding his gun and moving it from your cheek to beneath your chin, pulling it up, so you were looking at him. “You should be grateful I'm bothering to even look at you.”

Although the men you’ve been with aren’t that many, you don’t bother to waste your time explaining. He believes what he wants to believe.

“Get back here,” he orders as he starts to pump his cock, the veins bulging beneath his grip. A bead of precum glistening from the tip.

You crawl back to him on all fours, doing as he says, and getting back on your knees, looking up at him. “Are you going to hurt me?” you ask.

He pauses for a moment before tilting his head with a small grin. “Isn’t that what you deserve? Do you want me to hurt you? Is that it? You like pain? Is that what you crave, y/n?” 

Fear… Regret.. Along with arousal.. Unwanted arousal specifically. You always knew you had a thing for troubled —twisted— men, but this is beyond fucked-up. Not to forget, he’s your worst enemy. He’s any woman’s worst enemy.  Feeling your pussy weeping in response to his tall figure towering over you is not really something to be proud of. The heat between your thighs only grew bigger every second and you knew you needed to get rid of the feeling.

He stops pumping his cock, his hand darts to your head caressing your hair with —almost— a soft touch.

“Suck,” he orders.

Your eyes widen, your tongue ready to curse at him, “I’m not going t-” 

“I won’t ask again, suck.” His hand darts up to your face squishing your cheeks painfully together. “You run your mouth a lot, might as well put it to good use. I’ll show you what exactly happens to smart mouths. Suck it like the slut you are.” His eyes burn with anger while he’s squeezing tight, his voice dripping with venom. The tip of his heavy warm cock caresses your soft lips, tempting you to bite it off.

He roughly lets go of your face, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head to the back to force your mouth open.

He forces the tip past your teeth, hatred spewing from your eyes.

“Wider,” he demands, but you want him to beg. Beg for it on his knees and switch the table, be the one with the gun ordering him around like a house pet. Getting back your dignity sounded good but not enough if you compare it with its consequence, having your life taken away from you.

You ignore his request. Making him reinforce his hold in your hair, pulling at it harder making your jaw drop so he can get deeper to your throat. The salty taste of precum evades your taste buds.

You loved the taste of him, your mouth watering with his cock inside it. But you couldn't admit it, of course you never would. It didn’t take too long for you to wrap your fingers around the base of his shaft.

Your head bobbing up and down. A breathy moan escaped him.

“Do enlighten me,” he breathes out, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Your tongue massaged the veins that swelled on his thick cock, flattened out on the thickest one underneath and flicked at the tip.

Ragged breaths escaped his mouth as you began to inch your way down, taking in more of him. The tip of his cock bumped against the back of your throat. Kai tightens his grip around your hair, and shoves your face down against his cock, making you gag around him, violently forcing you to deep throat his dick, making you gag. His length occupying your whole mouth down to your throat. You were practically choking, but he didn’t really care about it, he’s there for one reason and one reason only, teaching you to know your place.

“Fucking whore. You thought you were so smart with those non stop questions?” He pauses panting as he thrusts harder into your throat, the sound of you gagging and the wet thrusts echoing through the room. “Fucking hate journalists. Tell me… Who got the upper hand now?” 

You can't help but ignore him once again. It's not like you would give him what he wants and come undone beneath him, right? Of course you can’t answer him, after all you’re his number one hater. But even haters would give in when it’s the most mouthwatering cock a man can ever have. 

When you avoided answering, or maybe couldn’t answer since you were basically choking on his cock. His dick alone is enough to murder you if he wanted to. It only made him thrust faster, the asshole didn’t stop mouth fucking you even when he noticed your cheeks turning to a bright red and your eyes watering. Your cries turned him even more on. Kai forced his cock further into your throat, until your nose was pressed in the bush of his pubic hair.

Finally, you gave him a wobbly nod, motioning that he has the upper hand.

His head fell back to his shoulders, “That’s good to hear.. You’re learning, you’re such a good girl…Fuck…” 

You smile at the praise. Surprisingly, him being somewhat ‘sweet’ only made him ten times hotter. 

Tears keep running down your red cheeks, your cries echoing through the room.

“Just so you know, I’m enjoying this. Your whimpers are music to my ear.” He groans. “But god dammit don’t whine like a fucking bitch.” He spits at you and it lands on your cheek. Add it to the list of body fluids covering your face, along with the sweat gathering at your forehead and drool drenching your chin. 

You moan around his thick cock, sending him vibrations through his whole body. After all, you’re not putting on an act, you are enjoying it which is something you, yourself, are afraid of. But mostly you were focused on getting oxygen into your lungs. And maybe he is right, as always. Maybe there really is a part of you that enjoys the pain. That burning stinging sensation in the back of your throat. It’s scary because it’s true. 

His thrusts then began to lose their rhythm, but still managed to keep up with his pace. You knew what was coming for you. You shut your eyes, dramatically accepting your fate. Your jaw was already tired from him using you. His shaft was heated up, thrusting in and out of your red swollen lips. His hand gripped on your hair even more tightly holding you in place while his hold on the gun loosened. 

“My cock is a reward, tasting me is a blessing. Fucking thank me for letting you suck me off.” He says between breaths. 

No response, just a wet sticky cough. But afraid of his reaction, you choke out with a full mouth, “thank you.”

You could promise that you felt the disgusted face he did, “what a filthy bitch didn't your parents teach you not to talk with a full mouth?” He says while non-stop grunting like a wounded animal. That's probably what he is anyways... A wounded animal.

Few seconds later, ropes of cum spurt out from his dick into my throat, milking it after the abuse it went through when he was hammering into my mouth. He pulls out from your mouth and tug his dick back into his boxers then his pull his pants back up.

“Swallow,” he orders. “Fucking swallow my cum.” Kai grabs your face and presses his fingers into your cheek flesh.

Desperately, all you wanted to do was spit it at him, right in his face, but you don’t. You actually swallow like the obedient little slut he said you are. His seed slides down your throat, alongside your dignity and maybe your hatred towards him. 

Your fingers reach to your face drying up the tears that ran down your cheeks and the saliva running down your chin along with lines of cum. Looking up to him, you see him breathing heavily. His body working hard to get the oxygen he needs from how hard you sucked him off.

He looks at you up and down, judging you, it can't be anything good.

You expected him to do something, whether beat you up, shoot you, the least of it is spit at you telling you how much of a filthy whore you are.

But he didn't, and you were grateful for that... For him..

The taste of him still lingers at the tip of your tongue. You lick your lips unintentionally and in the most discrete way possible. Last thing you want is having him know you liked it and boost his ego, not that it could possibly needed any more promotions. But he already knows, you're sure of it. The way you sucked the life out of him like it was the best thing you laid your lips on, you can't hide that from anyone.

He turns and walks to the door, completely silent. What could he be possibly thinking about...?

He pauses at the door, turning his head to see you, he’s sweaty.

“If I see you run your mouth about any of my work, newt time will be much worse.” He promises, which you thought was kind of cute.. Promises… 

Zipping up his fly, and slipping his gun in his pants, he finally turns away and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

[jakes3resin]

Blondes Have More Fun

Anyways, this is probably the closest I'll ever get to writing Crack fic for this fandom, so enjoy Blond!Bucky and his ability to drive Buck and the entirety of the 100th wild with his smile and hair! Also personally I think Callum looks like a 24 year old when blond, so imagine handsome charming, nearly thirty Bucky Egan running around looking like a baby faced newbie then you'll be half a bowled over as the 100th.

It is a truth universally acknowledged at Thorpe Abbotts that Major John "Bucky" Egan can be talked into anything. Anything. So long as you were convincing and Buck wasn't around to drag him away from the dumber ideas, Bucky was down to play ball.

Curt had once talked him into using a British accent for a whole week, even in meetings with the CO. Bucky hadn't even blinked before adopting an uncannily perfect London accent. It was so convincing that some of the newer replacements had asked if the man was British.

Another time, he got into a howl off with Meatball after Hambone said he didn't know which one was worse. The pair were so loud that no one could actually tell who won. Most were too busy covering their ears. The few that weren't couldn't decide. It was officially settled as a draw, but Benny still refuses to accept that Bucky would ever beat his precious boy Meatball in anything.

There were countless tales of Bucky getting into trouble simply because someone had said within his earshot the six words needed to wreck Jack Kidd's night.

"You know what would be fun?"

The magic words. That or a dare would send Bucky careening into trouble with half the 100th behind him to watch the fireworks. Honestly, most of the time, Bucky was already getting up to his own antics, so convincing him to do something else wasn't exactly hard.

It was one such utterance of the phrase that sparked a wildfire within the 100th Bomber Group that threatened to tear them asunder and send one Major Gale "Buck" Cleven to an early grave. Or prison.

The night was like any other Friday night. Bucky had gone out with Curt and Bubbles. Buck had chosen to stay in for the night reading, and Harry had done much the same. Kidd, the minder of the entire 100th, had gone to the officer's club while the trio had gone to a local pub in the town just off base. So the usual minders of this trio of mad men were missing, and as the saying goes, while the cats are away, the mice will play.

It started as Bubbles's idea.

At least that's what they think it started as. A few too many drinks had left the evening a blur for Curt and Bubbles and a blank for Bucky. That last fact will be important later.

"You know what would be fun?" Bubbles said, or perhaps it was Curt. Or maybe it was Bucky. But it was probably Bubbles. The man was quite the troublemaker, he just hid it better behind soft smiles and manners.

"What?" Bucky leaned against the bar to grin at Bubbles. Well perhaps a more accurate word would be slumped, he'd spent half the night playing some weird darts game that required shots for every bull's eye Tommy made. It was safe to say that the man was on the downhill slide to wasted. Curt kept an ear on the pair as he flirted with a pretty blonde next to them at the bar.

"Being blonde." Bubbles sighed. "All the movies make it seem fun, don't they? And Major Cleven sure is pretty with his blond hair. I bet it'd look really pretty as well on your curls Bucky."

"Sorry, sweetheart, one moment," Curt turned his head to stare at Bubbles. "You think Buck's pretty?"

"And you don't?"

"I do!"

"We know you do, Bucky," Curt sighed and leaned further onto the bar to make eye contact with Bubbles. "I mean, sure, objectively, you could say he is, but I thought you were wrapped up with Croz and Jean?"

"I am, but I still got eyes don't I? 'Sides ain't there something fun about being blonde?" Bubbles leaned against his cupped hand on the bar. "Can't a mind wonder?"

"Yeah Curt," Bucky rose in defense of his friend slinging an arm around Bubble's neck. The move was so uncoordinated that the pair were nearly sent to the floor. "Why can't Bubbles wonder? I wanna go blond, too!"

Curt rolled his eyes at them, but an idea was taking root in his head. An amazing idea.

"Well," Curt grinned. "Why wonder when you can do?"

"You boys aren't thinking about bleaching your friend's hair on your own are you?" A voice cut through the trio's conversation. It seemed the blonde woman from before had been listening in and was rightly amused by the drunk airmen's conversation.

"Cause you'll fry his whole head off in the state you're in, and the world would mourn those curls." She lifted a hand to tug gently on one of Bucky's loose wavy curls. He smiled at her, loose and happy. Usually, only Buck plays with his hair, but Bucky doesn't mind when anyone else does. Buck does though, which Bucky still hasn't figured out.

"Well, how do you suppose we save his curls then," Curt paused searching for the woman's name, "Nora."

"Good job, I half thought you were too drunk to remember my name handsome." Curt smiled, and Nora kept talking

"There's a drugstore down the way. Stocks up on anything a girl, or flyboy in need, could ever need. I'll help you boys out." Nora laughed. "You'll look mighty pretty dyeing those curls blond Major. I wanna see 'em first."

With Nora leading the way, the trio tripped over themselves into chaos. Bucky laughed as Bubbles rambled on about how pretty he'll look as a blond. Curt butting in to say that he'll need to either shave his mustache or bleach it too.

On base, Buck felt a shiver run down his spine as he laid down to sleep. Writing it off as just a chill from the cold British air, the man fell asleep.

Bucky groaned as he woke up. Voices drifted around him. His head felt like it'd be screwed off and used as a bowling ball all night, and as desperately as he wanted to go back to sleep, he knew that now that the sun was up, he was up.

"Curt, if that's you snoring on my legs, I'm gonna kick you off." Bucky pulled his pillow further over his head, trying to block out said snores.

"Fuck off," Came the grumbled reply. An elbow dug into the back of his knee.

"Get off," John whined. Curt huffed shifting just enough to let Bucky free his legs. "Why didn't you go to your own bed?"

"Yours is comfier." Bubbles murmured next to the pair, and Bucky really was starting to wonder what the hell they all drank the night before.

"It's the same cot as everybody else." Bucky grumbled, finally sitting up. Bubbles and Curt immediately swooped onto the space he abandoned. "Rude. You just want me for my bed."

"But it's such a lovely bed, sweetheart," Curt buried his face in Bucky's pillow, not even glancing at the man he was stealing from. Bubbles seemed to have immediately fallen back to sleep.

"I'm getting breakfast," Bucky yawned, stretching his arms above his head. "Meet me there when you idiots wake up. I'll sneak you in."

"Sir, yes, sir." Curt's hand flopped into a mock salute that had Bucky rolling his eyes.

First things first, breakfast. Or at least coffee for his hangover.

Getting dressed as quickly as he could, Bucky didn't even waste time checking how he looked in a mirror. He went to smooth down his mustache only to curse when he found it missing. Thinking Curt must have shaved it off as a joke, Bucky groaned but moved on. He didn't even touch his hair after that, just walked right out of his barracks. The only thing that mattered to him was coffee and how he'd get his hands on a gallon of it. It wouldn't be the first time he ran around base with his hair going every which way. No one would bat an eye.

Had he known what kind of chaos he was about to wreck upon the poor, unsuspecting airmen of Thorpes Abbotts, Bucky would have at least styled it a bit. You know, just to ensure maximum chaos.

The bike ride to the mess wasn't awful. The fresh air helped at least. With his sunglasses on, his head felt less like it was going to split open and more human. What was weird was how everyone stopped in their tracks to watch him ride past.

"Is that-?"

"No way!"

"Someone get Kidd!"

"Holy shit!"

"Major Cleven is going to lose his mind!"

"Do you think he has a twin?"

"Hell if I know, I can't believe Major Cleven let him out of the barracks like that."

"Lord help us if there's another Egan running around."

Bucky ignored them. He was way too hungover to parse through what nonsense the boys were going on about, and he simply pedaled faster to get to the officer's mess. He just wanted his coffee.

"Major Egan, sir!"

Bucky glances up from securing his bike and meets the eye of one of the newer boys. Kid barely looks old enough to have enlisted.

"Uh," Bucky searches his memory for this kid's name. Bucky tried to know some of the newbies names, but it was harder than he'd ever admit. "Monroe, right?

"Yes, sir!" The kid squeaked, a bright tomato blush spreading across his cheeks. Bucky winced, the sound drilling right into his brain. "I wanted to say you look nice today, sir. Your, your hair is real nice!"

"Thanks, Monroe," Bucky smiled, thrown by how Monroe managed to grow even redder. He reaches out to clasp the kid on the shoulder. "You alright there? You look like you're gonna faint. Had any breakfast yet?"

"I-I'm fine, sir, thank you!" Monroe was stock still under Bucky's hand, but he wrote it off as nerves. Some of the boys got nervous around the older pilots, especially if they were officers. "I'll be going now! Have a good day, sir!"

In a flash, the blushing replacement ducked under Bucky's arm and ran as fast as he could down the lane. Bucky watched him go, head tilted not sure what the hell just happened to him. He heard a few shrieks behind him but wrote it off as typical background noise. There was always something going on.

"Weird kid." Bucky turned to walk into the officer's mess. He'd have to tell Buck about it when he saw him next. Maybe he'd understand what just happened.

Speaking of, Buck had better have saved him a seat for breakfast. Bucky was not going to battle the morning rush as well as his hangover just to find out he had nowhere to sit.

On the way inside, Bucky ran into Veal. As in, he literally ran into the man because he'd stopped dead in his tracks staring at him. Bucky hadn't even seen the other before he practically bowled him over.

"Veal, what the hell?" Bucky groaned.

"You," Veal stared at him wide-eyed. If Bucky were less hungover, he'd get quite a kick out of this. "You, you?"

"Shaved, I know," Bucky gestured to his face. He turned to keep walking into the officer's mess. "Yeah, Curt had some fun last night."

"Wait, no! Bucky-!" Veal went to grab him, but Bucky just swerved out of the way. Nothing was getting in his way in his quest for coffee. "Bucky! Stop! Don't go in there!"

"Yeah, yeah, Veal," Bucky waved a hand behind him. "I get you're shocked, but come on, man. It's not the first time any of you've seen me without it!"

Bucky rushed in, not paying anymore attention to Veal. He walked with one purpose. Coffee. He didn't care if the other officers stopped and stared at him slackjawed as he walked past. He was a man on a mission.

"Hey, coffee, please? Whole pot if you could," Bucky smiled at the attendant, who blushed scarlet before running off. Thrown but not deterred, Bucky just shrugged and turned to find Buck. Maybe he'd be able to steal Buck's coffee.

He found Buck seated near one of the windows with his back facing Bucky. Jack was at his table, but otherwise, it was empty. Bucky started over.

Jack saw him first and choked on his grapefruit juice.

"Oh shit," Jack choked out. Buck leaned over to check on him.

"Alright, Jack?" Bucky grabbed the seat next to Buck. Jack just stared at him, eyes wide. Bucky tilts his head confused. "Buck, what's with him?"

Buck turns and freezes. Bucky stares at him. Buck stares back.

"Buck?" Bucky reaches out to shake him.

"You," Buck starts but doesn't finish. His wide blues eyes stare at Bucky's face.

"Coffee, sir!"

The attendant from before arrives with Bucky's requested pot of coffee and a cup.

"Thanks!" Bucky smiles up at the other. The attendant trips backward. Buck turns and glares at the other man. He flees.

"Buck, what the hell?" Bucky nudges Buck. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

Buck turns to stare at Bucky again, a clench to his jaw that Bucky's knows means he's holding something back. Jack seems to have started breathing normally again.

"Your hair!" Jack says. Bucky reaches up to touch his hair. Sure, he didn't style it this morning, but was it so bad? Monroe said it looked good!

Speaking of, why was everyone focusing on his hair today?

"What about it?" Bucky's genuinely curious now. Buck's still staring at him, eyes bright, and now Jack seems to be wishing for death.

"Its-!"

"Pretty."

Bucky turns to Buck. It's his turn to stare wide-eyed at the other. A blush rises up to his cheeks. Buck's not one to mince his words, and a compliment from him feels akin to a hundred.

The entire mess hall goes quiet as Buck stares at him. Bucky smiles at him. Buck goes rigid, and Jack chokes on his juice next to them. Again.

"Bucky!" Curt slammed his hand against the window, happy as a clam and utterly sober. Bucky hates that Irish constitution of his. "Let us in!"

Bucky stands up to hoist open the window. Jack's still too busy choking on his juice to stop him, and Buck seems to have frozen solid. Bubbles and Curt fall through seconds later. The pair immediately start talking over each other happily, and Bucky is starting to wonder if he was the only one who woke up with a hangover.

"God, you should hear the scuttlebutt going round!" Curt cackles as he launches himself into the seat across from Bucky. Bubbles nods next to him, already munching on a piece of toast Bucky thinks used to be Jack's.

"Anything fun?" Bucky dumps creamer into his coffee. He moans as he takes a sip of it. God, coffee really was the best hangover cure. Bucky doesn't notice how quiet the mess hall got until Bubbles finally answers his question a minute later. Odd.

"Just how pretty your hair looks now Major," Bubbles smiled at him. Bucky reached for his hair again.

"Is it really so different?" He asks. Buck makes a noise next to him like a dying chicken, and Curt cackles.

"Blond really is your color, Bucky! You look like one of those pin up posters running around like that!" Curt reaches across the table to tug on one of his curls, drawing it down into his eyesite. Buck bangs his knee against the table with a swear. Bucky would fuss over him, but he's reevaluating his whole morning with this new information.

"Oh!" Bucky gasps. Now he feels silly. "That's why Monroe complimented me outside?"

"Pardon?" Buck's voice comes out strangled. Bucky swings his gaze back to him. Buck's blue eyes are nearly electric, and Bucky gulps.

"Monroe? Cute kid? Brunette replacement with a billion freckles that disappear when he blushes?" Bucky rambles. Curt cackles again as Jack buries his face into his hands. Bubbles grabs a slice of Buck's toast this time.

"And he stopped you?" Buck's jaw was doing the thing Bucky knows only happens when he's pissed. But why would he be mad? Bucky tilts his head to stare at Buck, curls flopping down into his eyes now that Curt's untucked them from behind his ears.

Buck clenches his fist.

"Yeah, he and Veal both stopped me before I walked in." Bucky reaches over to grab Buck's hand. "You okay?"

"I'm fine John," Buck reaches up to tuck his loose curls back behind his ear. His hand lingers, and Bucky fights the urge to press his cheek into Buck's hand. "You look real pretty."

"Yeah?" Bucky sits up straighter, leaning into Buck's space. "How pretty?"

"Like a daydream." Buck whispers, voice low. His blue eyes won't stop staring, and Bucky can tell his blush is spreading by the volume of Curt's laugh.

Oh, Bucky could just kiss the other.

"Yeah, Nora did a nice job on your hair!" Bubbles pipes up having polished off Buck's toast. "We should write her a thank you card!"

"Nora?" Buck twitches.

"The girl who dyed Bucky's hair, of course!" Curt chimed in reaching for Bucky's coffee. Bucky batted his hands away, holding desperately onto his cup. "Pretty girl too! Kept running her hands through Bucky's hair saying how nice it was."

"I think nows a good time to stop that." Jack shoved his last slice of toast in Curt's mouth.

Buck's hand was still hovering over Bucky's cheek.

"Oh, now I remember!" Bucky leaned towards Curt and Bubbles with a bright smile. "She kissed me on the cheek before we left, right?"

Buck pushed his chair away from the table with a screech. Jack turned back to his grapefruit juice with a sigh.

Buck stormed out of the building, and it was through the combined efforts of Curt and Bubbles that Bucky didn't run after him. They could hear yelling through the still open window.

"Oh shit!"

"Everybody run! Major Cleven's pissed!"

"Who flirted with Bucky this time?!"

"Buck calm down, whoever it was they probably didn't mean anything by it!"

"Outta my way Crank."

"Buck, c'mon if you go to jail, who'll stay by Bucky's side?"

"Only gotta go to prison if I get caught."

"That's right-wait, Buck, no!"

Bucky sipped at his coffee. Jack sighed and turned to Bucky.

"Would you please go stop him? I'm not explaining to Harding why one of the 100th murdered a civilian, a fellow Major, and a replacement."

"Buck wouldn't do that," Bucky rolled his eyes.

Jack stared at him, judgement clear in his eyes. Bucky shifted under his gaze.

"Fine," Bucky groaned and pushed away from the table. He refilled his cup of coffee. "He wouldn't, but I'll go stop him."

Curt and Bubbles chirped their goodbyes as they waved down an attendant. Bucky mourned his pot of coffee as he glanced back and saw Curt gleefully pouring it into a cup.

Stepping put in the sunshine, Bucky reached for his sunglasses. Finding Buck would be easy. He simply turned in the direction of the yelling and started walking.

He ignored the boys all watching him and whispering. Now that he was walking, he could see his reflection in the windows of the buildings he passed. His normally brown locks were now a bright blond. He felt a bit foolish for not seeing it earlier, but hangovers tended to narrow one's field of vision to only what's necessary.

"DeMarcooo!" Bucky called out when he saw the other walking Meatball. "You seen Buck anywhere?"

"Just missed him," Benny yelled back. He pointed to the left of the barracks. "Went that way!"

"Thanks!" Bucky called back with a smile. A few of the boys around him erupted in whispers.

"Nice hair!" Benny yelled with a grin. Bucky rolled his eyes and kept walking. Buck couldn't have gone too far, right?

He found Buck only a few minutes later outside of one of the barracks the replacements were quartered. He was leaning against a wall talking to someone.

"Buck!" Bucky jogged over. As he got closer, he realized that the person Buck was talking to was the kid from earlier. "Monroe! Good to see you again so soon!"

"Major!" Monroe squeaked, eyes bouncing from Buck to Bucky. "Major Cleven was just reminding me about a few chores that I forgot about! I'll get going! Sirs!"

The kid ran off before Bucky could stop him. Buck watched with a satisfied gleam in his eyes, and Bucky huffed out a laugh.

"You know, you don't have to act all jealous to get my attention," Bucky pulled Buck to him by wrapping an arm around his waist. "I'll still only ever look at you."

"Just making sure everyone else knows that." Buck replied, voice low and serious.

Bucky reached up his free hand to drag him down into a kiss. Buck melted into his touch. Bucky laughed into he kiss as he tried to keep his coffee from spilling all over the two of them. He pecks the corner of Buck's mouth and pulls away.

"So you like the hair?" Bucky scrunches his nose into a shit eating grin.

Buck wiped that grin off his face with another kiss. Not that Bucky was complaining, of course.

Later that night, after making sure Buck didn't actually murder anyone, Bucky found himself in front of a vaguely familiar drug store.

"Well Major, I take it your boy liked the blond?" Nora grinned, pink lips spread into a devilish smile. She leaned one hip against the drug store counter. "Surprised you made it back here. You boys weren't exactly stone cold sober when you left."

"I always remember my bets, darling. I'll forget a lot but never those." Bucky laughed and set his hat down on the counter next to her. A single blond curl fell down into his eyes. "Now, what's this about makeup?"

"Oh, Major, you'll look lovely in something peachy."

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Fighter!Sihtric NSFW alphabet

Note: HCs based on my fighter fic : part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8 - part 9 - part 10 - part 11 - part 12 - part 13.

template source.

Warnings: 18+!! smut.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: -

wordcount: 2k

Masterlist

A=Aftercare - What they do/act like after sex.

Sihtric just wants to hold you and check in with you. He'll kiss you all over and snuggle until he falls asleep when in bed at night. If you had sex during another time of the day he'll want to cuddle for a moment and check in, and then continue the day. He is also a big fan of praising you. He'll help you clean up and get dressed too and Sihtric will never say no to a shower together afterwards, and he always asks if you want anything to eat or to drink.

B=Bondage - Are they into BDSM, and how far they’ll go if they have a green light.

Sihtric doesn't mind spanking you a little from time to time or pinning you down (big fan of pinning you down), but overall he's not much into BDSM. He thinks you're way too precious to handle that roughly, even though he knows you could take it, but his anger issues would also make it not the smartest idea to try out some BDSM. He does love to fuck you hard and fast sometimes, but other than fucking you with a head spinning pace and switching positions, he's overall rather vanilla actually.

C=Cum - pretty self explanatory.

He doesn't want to cum anywhere if not inside you. His breeding kink is almost absurd and he wants to fill you up at any given time. The fact that it would not result in pregnancy does not bother him anymore, nothing makes him prouder and his ego bigger than knowing you're full of his seed regardless.

D=Dom - Are they dominant, submissive, a switch?

Sihtric is dominant, but nowhere near as dominant as he thinks. He's actually more cocky and stubborn than he is dominant, and his dominance happens mainly in your daily life, outside of the bedroom. He does like to take control when it comes to sex, but your fighter melts at your touch instantly and if we're being honest, you could totally take charge whenever you want to. He's obsessed with you and wants to please you above all, so he's really more of a submissive. But obviously he will never admit that.

E=Edgeplay - Similar to ‘Kinks’ except it’s a lot riskier than usual kinks (knifeplay, breathplay, etc.).

Again, Sihtric's rather vanilla. He's terrified to accidentally hurt you and that thought completely puts him off any edgeplay and most of the BDSM stuff. However, if you would deny his orgasm it could completely make him go wild (in a good way).

F=Fantasy - A fantasy of theirs (ex: a teacher/student fantasy).

Apart from loving the fact he can fuck you in every city around the world if he wants to, he mainly has a thing for car sex. And not in his car, no, no. The only thing Sihtric may love more than you is his car, and the thought of fucking you on the hood of his beloved Bugatti gets him hard more than once a day. He just has no idea how to ask you if you're up for it, because that car has caused trouble in your relationship before.

G=Got Caught - How they react when they get caught having sex.

He'd be a little embarrassed if someone would actually walk in on you two, but then will get all cocky about it. He will also headbutt anyone who dares to look at you while getting caught. But the thought of someone only hearing you both doesn't phase him. He actually loves it when people can hear you, because it strokes his ego by letting them know how good he fucks you.

H=Hot Spots - A place that drives them crazy when stimulated (EX: neck).

Kissing that spot right underneath his ear will drive him crazy, but then his neck is a sensitive spot in general. Also his inner thighs will get him worked up without failure. Don't place your hand on his thigh if you don't plan on taking off his sweatpants after.

I=Intimacy - How romantic they are, or can be, before, during, or after sex.

Sihtric is an absolute hopeless romantic… at times. When given the time and right place he will try to set up something romantic with candles for example. But even without candles and such he can make it feel romantic as he loves to keep his face close to yours and look into your eyes in between kisses. He especially loves to show you how much he loves you before and after his fights, so he'll try his best to make it perfect for you, but that doesn't always mean candles and rose petals and hottubs. Sometimes it's sex in a dressing room while he's still sweaty and bloody from his fight just moments earlier, but his sweet nothings and desperate 'I missed you,' and 'I love you,' whines still make it intimate in all the right ways that candles could never do.

J=Journey - Their ideal way of leading up to sex.

Sihtric likes a chase and he loves to rile you up. It arouses him when you talk back to him, because he thinks it's cute when you try and act all tough. He knows you're tough, way tougher than him to be honest, but riling you up riles him up too and he loves it. Not giving into him right away only makes him want you more.

K=Kinks - I’ll list a few of their kinks, be they the normalized ones or kinkier kinks.

Again, he's really not very kinky apart from being a tad dominant and becoming a growling and begging mess when you deny his orgasm a few times.

L=Location -  Where they like to have sex at, do they like risky locations, etc.

Anywhere, any time. Hotel rooms, bathrooms, dressing rooms, showers, the beach, his car, his gym, the couch, the kitchen… literally anywhere, he does not give a shit. If Sihtric wants you, he'll get you.

M=Masturbation - How they are when they get themselves off, what they get themselves off to.

Sihtric has some spicy photos you took of yourself that he has in a secure folder on his phone, which he'll use when he's away from you as it's the only option. It works, but he prefers to just have sex with you or have you jerk him off. 

N=NO - A few things that they will absolutely, under no circumstances, ever do.

Sihtric will never share you with one (or more) people, he's as possessive as they come. The idea of someone getting off to you makes his blood boil. But since he is so possessive, that also means he is extremely loyal to you and would also never want to do something with another person.

O=On’s - Their top turn on’s that they have (things that’ll get them super horny super quickly).

Truth be told, you don't even have to do anything to get Sihtric horny. You can just look at him and he'll already want to throw you over his shoulder and carry you to bed. But being a little bratty and showing him you're not intimidated by him always gets him going immediately.

P=Position -  Their favourite position to have sex in.

Prone bone for when he's feeling dominant and a little rougher, and the lotus position for intimacy. He also loves the cowgirl position. Sihtric loves to lay or sit back, his arms behind his head while biting down on his lip as he watches you ride him and take all of his length so well. His eyes never lie and you know he could never get enough of watching you on top of him. And you can never go wrong with the classic missionary.

Q=Quickie - Do they like it, do they prefer quickies over actual sex, etc.

Sihtric loves quickies and would never say no, but he much rather takes his time with you.

R=Rough - How rough they are, or get, when in bed.

Sihtric can be a bit rough, but once again he would never want to hurt you and his roughness happens mainly when he's been riling you (both) up. He softens instantly once you kiss him.

S=Stamina - How long they can go before they tap out.

Come on now, Sihtric is a professional fighter and a gym beast… if anyone taps out, it's you (and there's no shame in that).

T=Toys - Do use toys, do they own them, what kind, etc.

Sihtric is way too cocky to use toys on you nor does he use any himself. When it comes to you, he's the kind of guy that sees a toy as competition and it hurts his ego. Because what do you mean a toy can make you cum much faster than he could? If you'd explain the idea of perhaps using a vibrator while he fucks you for extra stimulation, he might consider it. But it would truly take a lot of time for him to be willing to give it a go, and he'll throw mantrums about it (a man tantrum).

U=Unfair - How much they tease you, how they tease you, etc.

Sihtric teases you a lot, but he's rather impatient so the teasing actually backfires all the time. He likes to whisper filthy words to you and to send risky texts, telling you what he'll like to do with you, working himself up in the meantime while you can keep your cool a lot longer than him.

V=Volume - How loud they get when having sex, things they might say, etc.

Sihtric doesn't hold back his sounds of pleasure, but he prefers to whisper and moan into your ear, because he knows it drives you wild and he loves to feel you clench around his cock whenever he does. He loves to praise you and is obsessed with calling you his wife in bed ever since the wedding, just to remind you that you belong to him.

'My wife is so good to me,' he'll moan, along with, 'I love my beautiful wife.'

W=Wild Card - a random letter for the character of your choice.

Sihtric is always clingy, but he gets extremely clingy and soft with you when he's tipsy, and then all he wants to do is to make slow and sweet love to you. But he often has a drink too many and then he gets either aggressive (to others) or emotional, and that's not a good mood for sex.

X=X-Ray - How they look with their clothes off.

Sihtric is like a sculptured god and it's honestly unfair. You could never grow tired of seeing his physique. The scars on his skin, his toned abs, his veiny arms and those biceps always make your mouth water. As do his thighs and most of all his hands, even when they are bruised from his fights. You love to kiss his bruises as you get to drag your lips all over his body when you do so, and he loves it too. And in regards to his size? No complaints there.

Y=Yearning - How often they need to have sex.

Sihtric would love to have sex at least once a day, but his schedule won't always allow that so it's usually at least four times a week. But when you both have time off together he'll surely make up for the days you couldn't have sex.

Z=ZZZ - How quickly they fall asleep after having sex.

Sihtric falls asleep rather fast if it's in the evening/at night, mainly because in the evening he likes it a little rougher and faster than in the morning for example. In the morning he likes it slow and intimate. He'll still doze off afterwards in the morning, but not for too long. It also depends on the day. If he's had a long day he's naturally tired already, if he had quite a relaxed day he can stay up for a few more hours just to cuddle with you.

taglist: @foxyanon @alexagirlie @sihtricsafin @neonhairspray @gemini-mama @lexwolfhale @sigtryggrswifey @skyofficialxx @djarinsgirl27 @m-a-s-h-k-a @verenahx @mrsarnasdelicious @diiickbrainn @little-diable @maii777 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @dixie-elocin @elle4404 @bubblyabs @succnfuccubus @hb8301 @willowbrookesblog @apolloanddaphnis @jennifer0305 @carnationworld

If you want to be added/removed from the taglist, message me 🖤

[henneseyhoe]

You deserve it.

Keith Powers x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS: rough sex, orgasm denial, SUB!keith, DOM!reader, overstimulation, no protection(wrap it df up, abortions are expensive), light choking, short, no plot.

Ps. I cannot see this man dominating me like idk lmfao. Also I said I wanted to see more fics where the males are submissive so imma be the one to get the ball REALLY rollin! This only the beginning of the nasty shit I be writing but I gotta test the waters first lmfao.

✮✮✮✮

“Can I please cum?” He begged, his brown freckled face stained with warm tears from the immense pain and pleasure he had endured for the passed 30 minutes. His hips were bucking weakly, and his thighs were burning with tire as he fought off the urge to cum all over the woman’s hands. She had him kneeling in between her legs on their shared bed with his arms restrained behind his back, forcing him to get the pleasure of staring at her wet pussy, but not being able to touch or taste as she jerked his dick at any pace she pleased.

She felt his dick twitch twice in her hand, making her slow down her strokes and focus on the base of his dick, moving her hand up and down, but avoiding his tip to make sure he didn’t bust before she wanted him to. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you fuckin’ cum yet” she spoke in a dominant tone. Though the way she reiterated her demands were aggressive, but all he heard was the sounds of his erratic breathing in his ears. the grip she had around his dick told him not to fuck with her, and do what she said. He complied. That grip told him she definitely meant what she said too. He only replied back in whimpers, his bruised hips attempting to back away from the woman’s movements. “Stop moving” she demanded, shifting herself to sit up and grab the boy by his throat, gripping tightly.

This could have been enough to make him bust all over her, staining her navy blue thong with loads of his essence, but he knew there would be hell to pay if he chose to let loose just yet. With a slacked jaw, he attempted to stop running from the overstimulation, but every time her fingers grazed over his sensitive tip, he couldn’t help but to groan out loud, pulling at the belt that bound his hands and arms behind his back.

She loved seeing him this way. All the work she put in to break him into the sub he should have been from the start, he deserved everything she gave him for being so damn difficult. To be fair, he had never thought he’d be in this position. Kneeling before someone who had considered herself superior as she did what she wanted to him, whether it pleasured him or not was up to her. He had his moments where he wanted to take control for once and fight back, but he’d always end up on the bottom again.

But what could he say? The woman was persuasive, and she maneuvered like a camouflaged snake, smooth and seamless. She was baby oil slick. She was so convincing that she could probably sell water to a fish, or maybe venom to a cobra.

“You wanna cum?”

“Yes, ma’am! Please…” he shouted, his voice going back down to a whisper as it cracked from lack of moisture in his throat. he swallowed and took a deep breath, bracing himself.

“You can’t, baby” she shook her head and pouted.

“I want to”

“You can’t” she cooed.

He threw his head backwards and whined, his abs tightening as he fought off his release. “Please? please, lemme cum? I promise I’ll do whatever else you want me to do” He begged, his demeanor gradually softening. he felt humiliated by how he’d have to ask to do things other men would willingly do without asking their partner. Some wouldn’t even care if their lovers finished after the fact.

Keith, on the other hand, didn’t have that privilege. If she didn’t finish, then neither did he. If he finishes and she doesn’t, then she’ll keep going till she does, and maybe even long after that if she feels like it.

“You said that last time. That’s not enough” she shook her head.

“Please, please, please!” he begged and whined, his head jerking and throwing back with every electrifying touch.

-

“You love this pussy, baby?”

“I love this pussy” his low lidded eyes sparkled at the sight of her.

“You fuckin’ love this pussy” she moaned, nodding.

“I fuckin love this pussy” He repeats before his jaw drops and his head falls back into the pillows. She rode him like a wild stallion, her hips wildly bucking and swiveling on top of him. He had tears in his eyes, threatening to spill onto his cheeks once again.

“You like it when I use you, baby? Huh?”

“Yes” he struggled to say through clenched teeth, her hands now back on his throat, restricting him from normal airflow. Her head tilted slightly with a look forming on her face, showing disapproval. His response was informal.

“Yes what?” she pressed, purposely clenching her pussy around him tighter just to see the look on his face.

“Yes—yes ma’am” he breathed, trying with all his might to not touch the woman. His hands were untied by now and all he wanted to do was burry himself inside of her with his own pace that wasn’t aimed to tease.

“Yeah, you love it when I use you like the slut you are, hm?”

He nods, his eyes rolling back into his skull as his chest reached for the heavens, his back arched as far as it would go. He gripped the sheets with his hands, the veins in his fists becoming more prominent. He felt like his soul was being pulled directly out of his body. He had never felt a more exhilarating sensation in any of his prior relationships.

“Go ahead and cum, baby. I feel it. You deserve it” his face was hopeful, lighting up with those words repeating in his head.

“I deserve it?” He asks for reassurance, not fully believing it wasn’t a trick since she loved to play with his feelings, and often.

“You deserve it”

[elfqueen006]

Resentment and Other Unpleasant Feelings

So like... I made this fic based around this post by @yanderelovlies - I'd made an ask to make a submission but they haven't update since May.

Wanted to get this out, thx and enjoy.

---

May felt ...something overpowering her in her sleep. Actually, overpower wasn't right. It was something covering her psyche and body. It felt like having a sheet thrown over you and being forcibly held underneath it. Of course, as soon as she felt it, whatever it was, she forced it out. It didn't take much, as it wasn't that strong of an assailant - it's just that its presence was very hostile, which caught her off guard.

When she opened her eyes, she was met with her ceiling. But in her room she felt a groan and shuffling. She rose from her bed and saw Jack in the middle of her bedroom floor. Her teeth gnashing together as she made a vicious hissing sound, startling him to look in her direction. He looked tense and caught... that was the least he was going to feel once she was through with him.

"How. Dare. You?" she hissed.

The man gulped and in an instant, he was gone. ‘Coward. Asshole. Idiot.’ May thought. ‘Probably off spinning another white lie about me to Jamie.’ He'd been a pain in her ass since Jamila Cameroon had bought that damned tape. He's tried time and time again to intercept their affairs, all while slighting her. In fact, he made it a point to do it every time.

And the worst part was... she might've loved him the first time she saw him.

After watching the tape with Jamie, a soul bond of sorts had been enacted. She'd never felt one quite like this despite making them with her clients. Where hers often felt like a chain around the neck to imply ownership - this one felt attached to her heart.

May was fascinated by how humans expressed affection. It was as entertaining as it was adorable. Not a lot of demons did that without the added measure of sexual favors.

So she watched Jack and Jamie make their dates, play flirtatious games, and reassure the other. She was a voyeur to their "love", living vicariously through Jamie as she recounted their days to her. And she didn't dislike it for the most part. Demons were eternal with uncertain expiration dates - countless cogs in a great machine; not made nor fit for lasting relationships. Besides, Jack had gone after who he wanted and if his first instinct wasn't to pursue his real bond - who was she to stop him?

So, maybe it was her fault that Jack never knew. She didn't really explain the situation outside of her contract with Jamie - which had nothing to do with him anyway... it seemed like he was under the impression May forced her into it. But whether he knew it or not, creatures like her had to be summoned for these things to work. And besides, if she left, so did all of Jamie's contractual benefits. And she'd be fine. Jamie was a smart girl - when she assumed May was ignorant, she had devised a fallback plan to at least retreat to an apartment should all of her ill gotten fruits leave her.

Still, the prospect of someone owning Jamie made Jack upset. And the consequences be damned, he continued to try her patience.

"I know you're her manager, but you don't have to act as if you're her friend. You're only using her after all..."

"It's amazing how much she relies on you, but at the end of the day you'd just betray her, wouldn't you?"

"I could have sworn Jamie said she would take out the trash... so why are you still here?"

Time after time his words grew colder. And she wondered if she even had the right to be angry after all that's happened. She knows what she is; she knows she is not good. But what had she done that she wasn't doing a million times before? And though others hated her during those points as well… Why did this hurt?

---

It was morning. Jamie had gotten another call about the article she wrote on a celebrity - they were inviting her to lunch. As always, Jack congratulated her, showering her in the highest praise as if she were some sort of goddess. May couldn't help but feel a little spiteful; the girl was clueless to his cruel whims. And the fact that she always questioned her and never him was enough to drive the demon up the wall with frustration.

Still, she bears it. Years in the future this will all just be a bad memory.

As May went ahead and made herself breakfast (Jack never made enough for the three of them) she steeled herself for whatever drivel the young woman would regurgitate from the big blue bully.

"Um, May?" Jamie's small voice came from behind her. She hummed in reply. "I heard noises last night. At first I wasn't that concerned but...Jack told me-"

Here we go.

"-that you...attacked him?"

May looked over her shoulder, her emerald green eyes sending a shiver down Jamie's spine.

"Did he?"

Jamie swallowed silently before nodding.

"And for what reason?"

"H-he didn't say. Not exactly, he told me you were erratic." Then she paused, "Oh, wait! He um, said you were upset he was coming between the contract. Screaming that he was a t-threat."

May scoffed but she couldn't help her twisted smile, which unnerved Jamie further. And Jack, who'd been eerily quiet up to this point, finally spoke.

"What you did wasn't right, May. Neither is what you're doing." Jack said, faking earnest but still having that trace of cold in his tone.

"What am I doing, exactly?"

"Controlling Jamie. Staking claims over her life and isolating her from people that care about her well being."

May threw her head back in laughter. Her fangs glinted under the kitchen light. This act alone made Jamie rise up from the table as it was the biggest and most abrupt show of emotion from her. Her shoulders were shaking and she even wrapped her arms around her stomach.

“You two… you two are so funny! It's amazing, really! The things you can spin out of thin air along with your own sheer audacity!” She spat the last word at a disgruntled Jack.

“But still… it's always A nice reminder to know everytime I'm going soft on you, your opinion of me just remains stubbornly consistent.”

Jack arched a brow in question, prompting May to continue. “You aren't entirely off in your statement. I've grown weary of you and your attempts to get between Jamie and I's contract.”

Jack didn't like the sound of this… she hadn't reacted like he thought at all. Granted May wasn't a very expressive woman, for her to laugh and take his words on the chin was out of character. When he insulted her she often scoffed or gave a soft, if not annoyed rebuttal. She would look unaffected, but he could instinctually feel her waning with every remark.

Now he felt something cold weighing on his chest, applying pressure with every word she spoke. Maybe it was her demonic presence, but every bone in his body was screaming at him to reel back.

And then May looked him directly in his eyes. “I want you gone.”

“Hrk-!” Jack clutched his chest as he stumbled backwards and slid down to the floor. His back caught on the spatula in the pan on the stove and it fell with him. May's eyes widened slightly in realization, before they relaxed in cool indifference. It was that easy.

Jamie went to aid Jack, kneeling beside him as he groaned in pain. She was horrified to find her hands went right through him when she reached out to hold him. He was…flickering. Going in and out like fog or a hazy mirage.

Jamie looked up at May with wide eyes, “Wh-What did you do to him!?”

May leaned back on the counter. “Do you remember when you first played that tape? I warned you about the spiritual energy coming from its contents. We ended up watching it together… In it I made a contract of sorts. I wasn't aware I was making it. But I figured I must have done it to protect your soul, as it was already promised to me.”

Jamie's brows furrowed in confusion while Jack's face seemed drained of its warmth when he realized the implications of her words. His mouth fell open. May couldn't even bring herself to smirk at their astonishment. She could only look on in disappointment and something akin to pity.

“You have no idea how lenient I've been on you.” May said. “But last night you really pushed me. And I think it's time we end this union before you become more of a liability than you're worth.”

Jack made an effort to stand up once his form was becoming more solid, but May was already walking out of the kitchen. Jamie looked between Jack and her manager, confused and scared of what is and will occur.

“W…wait, May!” Jack called out.

May stopped. He rarely ever addressed her by her name. A cruel reminder that she was little more than a nuisance to him. A thing to be stepped over. An obstacle. And now… at his lowest, he wanted to actually use her name?

“May, I'm…I'm sorry!”

The demoness turned around with a look of disgust. It took him off guard, as he was used to her calm and composed persona.

“You're sorry?” she spat, “Who the hell do you think you are?”

He didn't answer. How could he? May had clearly made up her mind about him. The cold spread until he was outright shivering in fear. Jamie held onto him as he buried his face in his hands.

“No, No I can't go back- I can't !” he whimpered.

“You're not going anywhere!” Jamie protested.

May didn't bother with refuting that.

---

Working on part two, balancing the angst ending with some hurt and comfort after the fact.

Honestly, I just really like stories where people who wrong others atone. I think it just speaks to my petty psyche. Plus, I like showing May on the other side of Jack's ire. She's not the best person but as a demon that's amped up some.

So yeah, thanks to everyone who read, tune in next time.

[kitkatopinions]

Quick note, I don't know the person who made these tweets or what the "THIS is what they do" is referencing, I'm only using this as a jumping off point to talk about what seems to be a pretty regular repeated opinion among people who hate rwby criticism and rwde posters.

First things first, it needs to be clarified that the "don't call it a rewrite or a fix-it fic, only call it a fan AU" is in my opinion very ridiculous and also fundamentally misunderstands the differences between AUs, rewrites, and fix-it fics.

Fix-it fic: These fics are made in an attempt to fix something the writer did not like in the original project. They write things in a way they think is better than the original, or they write a thing that they didn't do in the original but the fic writer thinks is better than what was in the official content. There are pretty high expectations on fix-it fics for good reason, as the writer obviously is setting out to fix things. So for instance if somebody makes a rwby fix-it fic, I kind of expect them to do things like improve queer rep in rwby or improve world building in rwby and so on.

Rewrite: The writer is fundamentally changing things from the original, but a rewrite is not automatically a fix-it fic because people aren't always trying to fix anything. A fix-it is always a rewrite, but a rewrite isn't always a fix-it. Because in a rewrite, the writer could just be doing things that they think are interesting concepts, for fun, and not out of a desire to improve the official content. There are still expectations on rewrites to follow at least some element of story with format and all that, but there's less pressure to *be better than the original* because that's not automatically a part of writing a rewrite.

AU: A term for 'alternate universe,' this just means that the fic is not going to follow canon, there might be alterations as big as all the characters going to a regular high school in our world in modern times, to an AU where Pyrrha lives instead of Jaune. All fix-its and rewrites are technically 'alternate universes,' but AUs are even more relaxed and for fun than rewrites. So they're even less bound by any sort of expectations. There doesn't have to be any sort of formatting or anything for just an AU. If someone writes a romance based AU where Yang gets partnered up with Pyrrha and the two of them start a relationship, there doesn't need to be any fall of beacon, quest for the Relics, Salem doesn't even need to ever come up...

Not properly tagging a fix-it fic as a fix-it fic because some RWBY fans get angry whenever someone they don't know dares to think they can improve on the story of a bunch of other people they don't know... Doesn't actually do anything helpful. The fact that people have this 'you have to show only the upmost respect to the RWBY writers!' Why? Especially when Miles Luna specifically has a history of misogyny, biphobia, and said the n word as a twenty six year old. Why should I or anyone else be required to 'respect' a man who slutshamed the character of Tifa Lockhart by derogatorily calling her a prostitute because of what she was wearing and then lied about it when he got called out? It's a ridiculous expectation that really reads as massive insecurity on the side of anti-rwde posters.

So before even getting into the pieces of advice in the messages here, I just want to say that most of them do not matter in a rewrite or an AU. "This is my AU where Roman lived after the Fall of Beacon" is not immoral or wrong in any way. "This is my RWBY rewrite where I explore the ships I like rather than only the canon ships" like bro, who the hell does that hurt? So on and so forth. AUs and rewrites are just fans exploring fun ideas they like, it doesn't mean they actually wish the thing they're writing actually happened. For instance, I have plans for a fix-it RWBY fic where I try to mostly stick to the choices made in the original content and just do it in a better way (because I don't feel obligated to consider Miles "video games for your girlfriend" Luna better than me and stay in my demure place where I couldn't possibly improve upon a hot mess of a thrown together show.) But I also wrote a long fun non-published AU fic with my sister where we did this whole redeeming Torchwick, Mercury, Emerald, and Neo thing. AUs and rewrites should not be held to strict rules everyone needs to follow about who they are and aren't allowed to like or redeem. That's just killing creativity in fandom spaces.

But, now to get into these rules in practice of writing an actual fix-it fic (which again should actually be called a fix-it fic,) because a lot of these suggestions are actually good ideas... But A. Not all of them are, and B. I would bet good money that even the ones that are phrased well are used to baselessly attack people who aren't even doing the thing, and C. The actual original content of RWBY itself goes against these rules, but the same people that would pick apart a fanfic actively get angry when people dare criticize rwby.

So let's get into it.

Try to focus on the female protagonists

This is great advice for fix-it fics, and something that often puts me off of fix-it fics I've seen when they don't do this. 'Fix-it fics' that make men the protagonists or spend a lot more time focused on the men in RWBY than the women in rwby, it carries the implication that the person writing the fix-it fics thinks the there should be less focus on the women in rwby. However, this will also result in some anti-rwde posters who will see fix-it fics that do put a lot of focus on the female protagonists and have them be the protagonists and expand on their character and role but then also do things like have a chapter focused on fleshing out the character of Oscar and the anti-rwde poster will flip their lid about it. Also, this

Do not have a straight white male shame them for their actions

I'm assuming this part is focused on characters like Ironwood (arguably not white considering he was based in appearance of his Asian voice actor,) Ozpin (because despite the fact that most of the Oz reincarnations aren't white, Ozpin was,) Qrow (granted, very white, but is also one of the most coded as queer main characters,) and probably Adam. However, this ignores a couple of things, which is that if people are keeping to canon characters, Qrow, Ozpin, and Ironwood have all at times been mentors in canon - and also Ooblek and Port. It is generally a good idea to be careful when you DO write the main RWBY characters to mess up and get scolded especially if they're being scolded by white men, but the idea that you can't make the canonical mentors ever tell the RWBY girls they might be wrong is a strange one. Also it's worth noting that if you try to make RWBY more diverse by making some of these 'straight white males' into queer men or people of color, people are probably just gonna be more angry at you and still forbid you from ever having them say anything against the main girls. Also it's worth noting that RWBY canonically specifically had a scene where the white old man Peter Port who sexualized Yang got to tell off Weiss for being spoiled and entitled. So like... Maybe that should be criticized.

Do not make a cis white male have more of a role than them.

This is basically the exact same thing as the first point, which we'll see again. This list of suggestions has a couple different repeats.

No straightwashing

Another actually good suggestion, for the exact same reason as point one. Yang and Blake should stay queer, it's a very good idea to keep Jaune's sisters in mind (and maybe increase their role,) and May Marigold should of course stay a trans woman (and maybe get her role increased too!) However, it's worth noting that a lot of people consider it 'straightwashing' to have the bisexual Blake or the 'has expressed attraction towards men in like episode three' Yang ever be in relationships with men, and that's not straightwashing. It's biphobia to call a wlm bi ship straightwashing.

And NO fanservice

Now, look, "fanservice" to me has certain connotations of objectifying women, so I one hundred percent get this suggestion and think people should be very careful to make very sure they're not drifting into objectifying in their fix-it fics. However, I know how this fandom can get in regards to even young women so much as writing the now currently nineteen year olds to make out, so just to clarify. Even if it might feel like it sometimes, not everything romantic or sexual regarding the rwby main protagonists is inherently objectifying. Again btw, I want to clarify I'm not defending any specific current fix-it fic, just reflecting.

Don't make evil men "morally gray"

And we've come to the 'this is definitely about Ironwood and Adam and possibly Ozpin" thing. Here's the thing: There are problems with how the RWBY writers handled all three of these characters, and it's not immoral for anyone to make a 'fix-it fic' where they explore any of these characters as not evil especially considering that RWBY is meant to be a hopeful story, so making less characters plain straight evil is a perfectly reasonable thing. It's also worth noting that the actual show of RWBY made Hazel get redeemed as if he wasn't evil and treated him as at least partially in the right, while not having him truly apologize for the heinous actions he's done.

Also keep bumbleby canon

For fix it fics, this is a good recommendation because you can fix any problems you have with bumbleby. But also it's fine to not think bumbleby specifically should've been canon (though it's something I think could've actually been done well,) and going with something else. So long as you do include good other queer representation in your fix-it, not going with bumbleby shouldn't be viewed as an automatically horrible thing. You can make a fix-it fic where you put Yang with Weiss and Blake with Ilia or something. It's very silly to act like Blake and Yang being together should be a necessity. Again, there should one hundred percent be other queer main characters in your fix-it fic if you decide not to go with bumbleby.

Don't have Jaune or Adam date anyone in Team RWBY

...This is also something I think is a generally good idea tbh, and I don't have much else to say about it. In fact, adding a romance element to Adam and Blake's relationship actively hurt the show imo. Having Jaune date a member of Team RWBY can be done, but generally speaking I do feel like people should just avoid that, especially if the character is Weiss. But again I should point out that in the actual show of RWBY, they've made Weiss openly attracted to Jaune in season 9 while they had aged Jaune up a good twenty years, so... Yeah.

Ruby is to be idealistic, and it shouldn't be a character flaw

This is an interesting one, because I mostly believe in this. Ruby's being idealistic is something about her character I actually enjoy, and I also think that in a good show her beliefs would be challenged, and she would come out of it stronger, still with her hopefulness and her ideals but also willing to be smarter and more careful. And in a good show, there would be good characters who might have a different outlook that isn't villainized. So while I don't think that Ruby's idealism should be treated like a flaw, I do think her beliefs should be challenged and not treated as the only good and moral thing (and something tells me the people that complain about fix-it fics might consider that the same thing as 'treating it like a flaw.')

Yang is not a party girl, not an alcoholic, and not a slacker

So, the alcoholic thing is so specific that it makes me think this was specifically directed at one fix-it fic. But as for the other two. On the note of 'Yang is not a slacker' I would argue that in the early episodes, she wasn't actually shown to care about her studies much, but that the early episodes kind of rush through 'team RWBY finding their footing,' so in rewrites giving Yang an early character flaw of being a slacker... What's the issue with that? I'm genuinely confused with that one. Is it not in her early character of being an energized, fun loving girl? I don't get it. Now for the party girl thing... I'm also confused about that, because - and correct me if I'm wrong - didn't Monty Oum make 'party girl' like part of Yang's early characterization? When he was concepting her? And there was a whole thing in volume 2 where Yang and Weiss are planning a party and she's like bringing in loudspeakers and wants a fog machine, should we not think that means that she likes to party? Her whole first appearance in the Yellow trailer was specifically set in a club to get across the vibes they wanted for Yang. Yang goes to a club in volume 7 and is specifically talking about dancing at the club and the loud music at the club. Also my sister found this for me from the back of a V1 DVD.

They literally call Yang a party girl themselves! Do people just think there's something immoral about clubs and party girls and therefore don't want Yang to be one? Because that doesn't sound good, it sounds judgmental.

Jaune is a side character

This is advice that is very much not in line with canon. Jaune is at the very least a deuteragonist in canon and is often very much so treated as a main character, sometimes out stripping some of the main girls in terms of lines or screentime in a volume. I do think that fix-it fics ought to either reduce his role or increase the roles of the main characters, again to give more focus to the title characters in Team RWBY. However, it's just ridiculous to me to complain about Jaune's prominence in RWBY fix-it fics because I'm just like... Look at the main show! Complain about how much importance is put on Jaune in the show!

Adam Taurus is irredeemably evil So is Torchwick

I am certain that this is about one specific fix-it fic that some anti-rwdes make it part of their core rwby beliefs to hate, because most people only actually put Torchwick in the same category as characters like Adam and Ironwood in the 'you're not allowed to like and/or redeem them' category when they're talking about one specific fix-it fic. XD But just because other people do not like these two doesn't mean it's ILLEGAL to like and/or redeem them! In my opinion, there is no such thing as a person who is completely irredeemable! And in a hopeful show, wanting to redeem villains - especially villains who have been horrifically branded in racist acts - is not a bad thing??? This is your reminder that these are not real people who actually did bad things in real life, they're fictional characters, they're tools to be used to tell stories. This is basically just the "don't make evil men 'morally gray'" thing again but like, extra specific. Yes, Adam and Torchwick in the canon of RWBY are horrible evil people. But they're fictional people, you shouldn't villainize people for wanting them to be better and writing them to be better in a fix-it fic of a show that's meant to be fundamentally about hope. There's nothing hopeful about 'some people are irredeemable,' but 'even bad people can change and get better' is a really hopeful sentiment.

Once again, none of these expectations should exist for just 'rewrites and AUs' and are only applicable to actual fix-it fics, and some of them are just so pointless. It's literally just enforced fandom rules, and fandom rules kill creativity imo, there shouldn't be characters that people are forbidden from redeeming or just shouldn't ever make morally gray, or ships that are absolutely required that must be done. Even in fix-it fics! One person shouldn't expect everyone else in the fandom to fit with what they or what the writers want. Yes, there are things that I think should generally be done in fix-it fics like focusing on the main girls and keeping to the general outline of what happens in the canon series, but some people act like fix-it fics should really just unquestioningly copy paste the original work and call it good, and that's ridiculous.

Two more things to note:

Sometimes when people are trying to make a fix-it project, it can snowball into more of a rewrite. If they decide to start inserting characters just because they like it, or branch off into random tangents just because they find it interesting, or so on. So even in fix-it fics I think there should be allowances made and people need to understand that not every single thing in even a fix-it fic is something that the writers sincerely think should've happened in the actual canon of RWBY. I can't tell you the amount of times my sister and I have sat down to make a fanfic (we never publish btw) that was supposed to be 'a fix it for volume six onwards' or 'a fix it of volume seven' or something and wound up completely spiraling into a separate thing, and then we wind up being like 'okay but we really should write an actual fix-it sometime.' If you're publishing while you write, or posting your fix-it online as you go, you can't just be like 'guess this sorta became more of a rewrite than a fix it lol' if your fic is already titled as a fix-it. So I'm just saying, it's worth it to expand a little understanding that sometimes people making fan projects for their own enjoyment aren't always going to be hypervigilant to not let a little bit of personal bias and personal enjoyment leak into their choices.

Next thing to note: We should be holding RWBY to a much higher standard than any fan project. RWBY is a product that people are trying to sell us that's making an actual company money, it's the actual product itself, with a team of writers and their job is quite literally to make the story of RWBY good. Fics and fan projects are things people do as a hobby, that they're not getting paid for and therefore aren't selling to anyone. It's wild to me that some people will let RWBY the actual show get away with anything and actively try to stop people from criticizing it and then go around reading fanfictions nobody made them read so they can insult the people that make them over every little perceived injustice. If you're going to get angry at a fanfiction writer for including a little too much Uncle Qrow in their fix-it fic, please ask yourself why Jaune is such a prominent character in RWBY the actual show and why it doesn't bother you then. If you're going to get angry that a fix-it fic writer has Ozpin criticize the main girl protagonists, please go back and rewatch Jaune as a forty-something year old scream in Ruby's face that she's responsible for all bad things while she's crying, and get just as angry at the show writers as you would get at a fan if they did the same thing in their fic.

Anyway, this post was super duper long, but.... I'm done with it now.

[monathedefiant]

ricky september is racist but there's hope for him. . .

right?

ricky might not be racist in the same way as lindy and her little friends. but he's grown up in the same white supremacist culture as everyone else. there's nothing in the culture he's exposed to that's challenged the racist ideologies that he's grown up with as just a part of life. he's not racist on purpose, That's Just How Things Are and that makes his brand of racism just as bad if not worse in some ways.

it's the kind that sneaks up on bipoc when we feel safe and when we've let our guards down. a moment that happens so quickly that we can almost tell ourselves we're being ridiculous. . . until it happens again, and again, and again. like when the doctor tries to explain the codes to ricky who then cuts him off to assert his own knowledge while giving a skeptical up and down look. as if he's perturbed that someone that looks like the doctor would assume they have knowledge he doesn't.

HOWEVER!!!

ricky's reaction could also come from feeling underestimated. he's a pretty boy pop star who's brand is bright, flashy, and geared toward teenagers. he's probably used to people assuming he's dumb because of his outward appearance, despite the fact that he goes out of his way to learn and take in knowledge.

so, part of ricky's reaction is "how dare someone who looks Like That speak to me That Way" and the other part is "i may be pretty and popular but i know things and don't need to be coddled about something so simple".

i say this because ricky's interactions with the doctor (for the most part) don't feel that different than his interactions with ruby. he gives them both the same boyish grin he gives lindy when they first meet. he doesn't do a double-take at the doctor's presence. ricky doesn't make the doctor feel out of place in conversation or question the doctor's knowledge. to a certain point, he doesn't even seem rejecting of the information the doctor's giving him. more just overwhelmed and pretending not to be. hence the hand by the ear thing which reads more as self-soothing that anything else.

that being said, i can't read that skeptical up and down look as anything but a manifestation of the passive racism he's unknowingly learned to live by all his life. that look says "who do you think you are" in a way it doesn't toward ruby and i can't ignore that.

just as important, though, is ricky's potential to go against the grain of what's been ingrained in him. the world he lives in has been whitewashed to hell and back. the history books favor the "victors" (read: oppressors) over the Ugly Truth. i doubt it describes the Great Abrogation as anything but a benevolent necessity (when it was clearly an act of colonialism). we don't see anyone with anything close to radical ideologies, and they definitely aren't there to share those thoughts with any of the named characters. not to say they don't exist (and isn't that the perfect nugget for fic based off this episode??) just that they get no air time. even if ricky feels that something is off in this society, where would he learn the type of truth that could truly radicalize him?

while we don't get ricky the anti-racist, i still see potential in him. he frequently takes breaks from social media to touch grass and read books. he's open to new experiences even when they're scary or difficult. we see how lindy struggles that first time not depending on the dot and bubble even just walking around. let alone seeking out information. ricky put himself through that multiple times (ON PURPOSE!!) to learn how to walk and to gain an appreciation for reading.

which tells us he's willing to learn ideas that challenge the status quo. he's also willing to share what he learns with others. if given half the chance, ricky might've been just as bad as the rest. maybe i've got my head in the clouds and am refusing to face the Very Clear Facts.

but the man is dead and we'll never known for sure. so, i'm choosing optimism because like why tf not ya know. plus, i just like the idea that even someone steeped in a shitty society can still unlearn the bad and do better. i do after all live in the u.s. and support palestine so *shrug* i'd like to think ricky's no more damned by being born into a White Supremacist Wonderland than i am from living in a Nationalist Nightmare Zone.

[council-of-beetroot]

I had a dream I published this without making it anonymous lmao

I like ameliet only if it's done well. In my own family, people like my great great grandmother came to America at the age of 16 alone so I have that connection to the eastern European immigrant experience that Tolys has.

Seeing my last post this is hypocritical but it's not like I care that much because I read anything and will still enjoy it.

Common things I see in ameliet that I dislike

Alfred being interested in Tolys' culture

Especially during this era, assimilation was expected of any immigrants at the time. I don't see Alfred learning Lithuanian or learning Lithuanian cooking or whatever because all that was seen as something you left at the docks the moment you stepped foot in America as an immigrant during those times

The 1920s itself

I know it's canon but I personally in my fics have the outsourcing somewhere between 1890-1915. This is because in 1921 the us restricted immigration based on race and ethnicity so that the only people that could really move to America were Canadians or Western Europe such as the UK or Sweden. But I won't complain since it is canon.

Alfred as Tolys' saviour

I think this is just one annoys me because America has very little to do with say things like Lithuanian independence and the like. Also the way I see it depicted often renders Lithuania completely powerless and unable to lift himself up.

Now onto the other thoughts

I want to see more in outsourcing fics someone calling Tolys polish or Russian as at the time you could be labelled on papers as Russian despite not being ethnically Russian because your country was a part of Russia. For example my Great Great Grandfather's records are listed in the Russians to America files.

if it's the 1920s even better because you can have someone calling Tolys a Pollack and he gets pissed off, but not because it was meant as an insult but because how dare they mistake him for ugh a pole. 1920s is like the worst points for Tolys and Lithuania.

More red scare stuff too please

Tolys confronting the difference between his own experiences living with Alfred and his countrymen who are living in America working backbreaking jobs in poverty with little support. Yeah my great great grandfather ignacy for example was a miner upon immigrating to America. The work was literally back breaking in his case and he fractured his dorsal vertibrae which is incredibly painful but he managed to live with it for nearly 18 years until he got septicemia and died at 52. American dream amiright? There were instances where immigrants who tried to unionize were met with violence. I just think it would be interesting to see tolys grapple with this as he knows what it is like to work in a hostile environment.

Cold war era for example, I think Tolys would also have to grapple with the fact that he has romanticized America like literally as such a great place and Alfred is so much better than Ivan. So then when say Alfred does equally dumb stuff Liet finds it hard to take in.

1992 Barcelona Olympics these two and basketball. Read my basketball fic okay

Tolys thinking that certain things are normal American things as he doesn't realize it's literally something only Alfred does

The Feliks and The Baltics thinking Liet is an Expert about america but his knowledge no longer useful as it's been how many years. Same with slang

Tolys sabotaging his own relationship with Alfred because he thinks Alfred will manipulate him or end up hurting him like past relationships.

Tolys realizing Alfred's naïvete like omfg this is so good. Also Alfred turning to Tolys as almost a mentor or source of advice because Alfred on a nation scale is quite young

Also Alfred not grasping the reality of his actions because he has never been in a place where he has lost that power or been at the mercy of others while powerless. But Tolys is like wait a minute

Tolys having known both Alfred and Ivan and seeing what makes them different and quite similar

The awkwardness of moving in with someone you don't know well

Here is my fic that has ameliet as the backdrop of the fic

[intoxicated-chan]

Hi punk :)) I love everything you write and the fact that this is a dark blog, so I thought about requesting something dark. I’ve read a few of your fics inspired by songs and I really like this one: like a tattoo by Sade. From the min 1:35 to 1:56. Maybe captain John price with a reader that is part of the 141 and ends up betraying them like Graves? Price and reader had a relationship and he was totally in love with reader, and reader used him to get info as he is the captain, reader also had feelings but couldn’t do anything to avoid the outcome, angsty ending maybe?

Hungry for Life or Love?

♡o。.✿ฺ Paring // John Price x F!Shadow!Reader

♡o。.✿ฺ Summary // You we’re determined not to fall but who wouldn’t fall for him?

♡o。.✿ฺ (A/n) // Inspired by “Like a Tattoo” by Sade, love the song. Apologies that it took me awhile, I had massive writers block on top of work. For those who may be confused, the italics part towards the end, I’d say it happened after Laswell was captured. Why? I don’t know since I added last minute and didn’t want to change it.

♡o。.✿ฺ Word Count // 1.5k

♡o。.✿ฺ Content Warnings // Female reader, angst, swearing, violence, blood, bombs? Mentions of death/death, pet names (love), injuries…

You tried, you really tried. Graves warned you not to fall in love but how could someone not? You adored listening to what he’d want after retirement, or how he spoke proudly of anyone in 141. Yet you were riddled with guilt, this facade you put on just to get information out of the captain broke your heart yet you wanted to make your commander proud.

Yet it was more than heartbreak when you had the gun pointed straight at his head, it was more than shame, you truly loved John Price. But the shouts of your commander and the rest of your comrades… You were a disgrace. You knew after Graves took over Alejandro’s base, he was going to kick you off the Shadow Company.

“Your eyes are beautiful.” John comments,

You snort, “Yeah right.”

He grabs your chin, making you look at him, “They shine beautifully in the moonlight.”

You told him lies to give him a sense of security he needed, breaking down his walls piece by piece, and everytime you did, you wished someone caught on to your act. You wished someone would tell John that you were a bad influence yet everyone in 141 cared for you as if you were their own member. It sickened you and just when you’re ready to call it quits, your commander was the one pushing you back out there.

You joined the Shadow Company with the promise that things would be different, that the Company was supposed to help. You should’ve known that it was all lies, from the second Graves had you transferred to 141, and with your order… You couldn’t take it anymore, the Shadows saw it, and Graves saw it.

“You’re out of line Graves.”

Graves chuckles, “I’m out of line? you should be saying that to the whore sleeping with your captain.”

“Don’t you dare call her that.” Johnny growls, itching to get his hands around his neck, “I should-!”

“Don’t do that. Don’t… Do that. No one needs to get hurt here.”

“Are you threatin’ us?” Ghost asks, his hand hovering over his hidden knife.

“Soldier, I don’t make threats. I make guarantees. So let’s not do this.”

Johnny grabs his radio, “I’m calling (L/n).” He starts to walk away.

“(L/n) has been a great soldier to the both of us, but I gave her a job and she fulfilled it.”

“A job?”

“Didn’t you think it was strange I had someone from my company sent over to you and just a few months later, they’re sleeping together.” Graves states, “Her job is over, it’s time for her to rest.”

The sudden explosion was hours off into the distance but it was quite noticeable, the smoke in the night sky along with the roaring sound, then Graves comms comes on.

“Sergeant (L/n) is KIA.”

“A body?” Graves speaks.

“Gone, along with any evidence.”

“Graves… You didn’t.”

“Stand down, you have your orders and now you have yours. This ain’t some negotiation!” Graves shouts, “Don’t make me send you down the same path as Sergeant (L/n), I’m sure she wouldn’t want you dead.”

“Cabrón!” Alejandro lunges as Graves. He and one of his men push Alejandro against the vehicle and restrain him.

“Graves, what the fuck?!”

Johnny dodges their gunfire and uses a Shadow as a human shield. Ghost elbows a second Shadow behind him in the face and then uses his knife to stab the third in the neck before throwing the same knife into a fourth.

Alejandro puts his restrained arms around a Shadow’s neck, “Get your fucking hands off of me-” Graves knocks him out before turning his attention back to Johnny. He grabs the Shadow’s firearm and fires at one, killing him. Graves shoots Johnny in the arm, sending him backwards to the ground with a dead Shadow on top of him.

“Go, Johnny! Get out of there!” Ghost shouts in desperation, “Soap- Go!”

“Get him, now!”

You kneeled on the ground, watching a cat through a glass. It follows the taps of your fingers against the glass, hearing it meow, and yawn.

“Sergeant (L/n).” A Shadow comes to your side, “The car is prepared. Graves it awaiting you.”

“Of course he is.” Guilt bubbled in your stomach, “Let’s get this over with.”

You hoped something was blocking the way with each turn, you hoped that something would go wrong with the car. Yet you knew it was time to face the facts, face the people that you lied to, and face the man who you love… You feel the hot tears fall down your face and onto your lap, no noise left your mouth as you silently sob.

The car comes to a halt, maybe… Just maybe.

You clear your throat, wiping away the remaining tears, “What’s going on?” You ask one Shadow.

“Wait here, someone’s up ahead.” The two leave the car, leaving you alone. You could take this chance, make a run for it? Mess with the car? Or await your humiliation that you deserve. You guess the drive back home with Price would always be a dream, not a reality.

“What is taking those guys so long?” You step out of the car, trying to look through the rain and fog, “What the hell are they doing?” You sigh.

The car is blown off the road, taking a few tumbles before hitting the bridge but dangling off it. You gasp for air, smoke filling your lungs. You could barely hear the two Shadows walking up, the lights of their flashlights blind you as you struggle to even pull yourself up.

You fumble with your seat belt, ready to call for help.

“Think it killed her?”

“It should or else Graves will have our asses.”

“Wait! I think I see her moving.”

You manage to free yourself, falling forward and hitting the car seat with a cry.

“She’s still alive!”

“Dammit.”

You see them coming close, you drag yourself to the back of the car, “What the hell are you doing?!” You shout, grabbing your pistol. You aim it through the broken glass, “Assholes.” You fire, watching one Shadow drop to the ground.

“Kill her! Before she kills us!”

You take your chance and hurry out of the car. Gun aimed straight at the standing Shadow.

“Care to tell me what you boys are doing?” You pant, “Because I’m pretty sure this is perfect grounds for discharge.”

“You should’ve stayed in the car Sergeant, you don’t know what you have done.” He spoke, slowly reaching for his gun.

“I know what I’ve done! Doesn’t mean Philip has to kill me!”

“It’s more than what you think.”

Before you could speak, the Shadow on the ground quickly got to his feet, landing a strong kick to your stomach, you nearly fell over the edge. You hold onto the ground for dear life, trying to pull yourself up, “I respect you, Sergeant, but I also respect Commander Graves.”

“Wait-!”

“Then pull the trigger, love.” John mumbles, watching your hands shake as the head of the gun is pressed up against his head, watching your eyes begin to water, “Pull the trigger and your job will be complete, just like what Graves wanted.”

You knew Gaz had his sniper aim at you, “Don’t shoot Gaz.”

“But-”

“I said don’t shoot.”

“You’re an idiot.” You begin to cry, “You should’ve seen the signs… You should’ve known!”

John stands to his feet yet you keep your distance, you keep your gun on him, “It’s strange, isn’t it? A Captain who’s always cautious…” He takes the gun from your hands, taking your hand into his hands, “Yet here I am, holding the hand of a woman whose mission was to play me like a fool. But no matter how my heart aches, how I feel betrayed… I could never love anyone else the way I still love you.”

“...You’re a fool, John.” You quickly reach for your knife, ready to stab John.

“Don’t shoot!” He tries to tell Gaz.

Gaz fired, you lunged and John tried to cover you. The bullet tore through your cheek, burning throughout your arm. You fall into John’s arm, the pain swallowing you entirely that it was difficult to stand, yet you tried to ignore it, pushing yourself out of his arms and tripping over your feet.

John feels the blood spilling onto his chest, he grabs your face which makes you hiss loudly. A long, deep gash across your cheek, “Call a medic!”

“Don’t!” You push him, “I don’t need one.” You hand comes to your cheek, trying to apply as much pressure while ignoring the pain, “I have a mission to fini-”

“Enough of this (Y/n)!” John grabs a hold of your arm, “Why? Why do you still defend him? Why do you still follow him?!”

“I…”

“Drop the knife (Y/n).”

“I…”

“Let me help you.”

“Even if you could help me… You still won’t forgive me.”

You missed his embrace, his warm touch, the smell of his cigar in his breath… But the cold water gave you all the comfort you needed, even when you thought differently.

© Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[scandalouslamb]

How I Personally Read/Characterize Festus Creed

Because not everything can be about Felix Ravinstill. (Also yes, I'm using my own gif for visual interest.)

@persephoneprice, since you asked so nicely, I finally finished this post. This will probably feel familiar to you/anyone else who's read my oc fics.

Most people I've seen portray Festus as either a golden retriever type character (with a side of himbo at times?) or someone on the meaner side of Capitol students, and I suppose that I land somewhere in the middle.

Personally, I see him less as a traditional himbo (he's in the top 24 students at the Academy that's got to count for something in terms of booksmarts) and more of just someone who lacks polish in his interactions and social graces. We see him suggest very blunt force/violent approaches as solutions to get people to watch the Games in the book (Ch.6), and he seems to have less control over his emotions (crying about Arachne, obviously Clemensia admits to crying about the death of their friend too, but she and Coriolanus seem to quickly leave Festus at his apartment when he starts maybe implying it's not normally socially acceptable to be so emotional in public?) (Ch. 7).

In my mind, I think this lack of social grace makes some of the other Capitolites occasionally look down on him. Everyone has their slips once in awhile, but Festus has them more frequently.

Also I think the briefly mentioned dare that Festus put Coriolanus up to about making out with (hooking up with?) a girl in an alleyway (Ch. 13) speaks to Festus having a tendency to get himself and other people into some sort of mischief/potentially goofing off. I can't remember any other specific examples, but just his general vibe tells me he likes to goof off.)

Festus definitely has a cruel streak, just based on the casual way that he talks about his animal cruelty side hobby (dogfighting), and the aforementioned very blunt force solutions of getting people to watch the Games (Ch. 6). I don't think he's cruel in a malicious way (which is in a way perhaps more frightening but also more interesting to me). He's just not reflecting on his actions and realizing that he's cruel or mean. He takes things at a surface-level most of the time and won't delve into any moral quandaries without severe prompting.

Connecting to his movie portrayal, I don't actually think that there is much of a gap to bridge between my read of his book personality and his movie personality (This might be an unpopular opinion, idk.). Like ignoring the fact that a lot of the mentor's more sympathetic moments were cut from the movie, the film is consistent with the crueler aspects of Festus' personality that the book kind of hints at to me.

It might be hard for most people to imagine Coriolanus inviting Movie! Festus to Sejanus' memorial dinner at the end of tbosas if Festus interacts with Sejanus like this, but if you follow my headcanon that Festus is constantly putting his foot in his mouth in conversations and taking the occasional verbal spar a bit too far, then, while he still obviously looks down on Sejanus, there is a possibility that he doesn't actually treat Sejanus that differently from how he treats other people (see him teasing Felix). Thus, to Coriolanus, he would actually seem like a viable person to bring to that dinner.

While I'm disappointed that Festus organizing people to carry Coriolanus around on a chair after Lucy Gray wins was cut from the movie (Ch. 20), I do think Movie! Festus' more hostile reaction to Coriolanus' tribute winning isn't that out of character from Book! Festus if we consider that Coral was the runner up, and as the Games end with the release of the snakes in the movie, Festus probably felt that Coral really was about to win before that happened.

I also personally headcanon that Festus was at least a little upset that Coral died, because he had gotten used to the idea of her winning. Obviously, that isn't exactly on par with thinking of her as a equal and fellow human being, but there's a seed here for him to start thinking critically and sympathetically and realize that the tributes are people like him. Unfortunately, like with most of the mentors, I think it would take a lot to force him to reflect in that way, and in most universes probably isn't in the cards for him.

Overall, however, I do think that he is a great friend to those close to him just based on how he acts with Coriolanus throughout the the book, and he does seem to want to do what he considers the right thing, like when Reaper's starving and he tries to convince Clemensia to feed him (Ch. 18, although he does retract this statement in the next chapter). Unfortunately, the right thing for someone raised in the Capitol is very skewed.

Bonus: the reason I think that Felix and Festus might be drawn romantically but also in the platonic sense is actually Festus' constant putting his foot in his mouth/lack of social graces. It would appeal to Felix, because he can always count of Festus to be at least somewhat genuine in a world where so many people might be trying to use Felix's connection to the president for personal gain. On Festus' end, I imagine that having someone so accepting of his social foibles would be very comforting. So, yeah, I think they would get along even if I didn't ship them!

Anyway, I hope this makes sense! Surprisingly, I do have thoughts about characters other than Felix!

[lovezbrownies]

Thank you, cruel savior.

Based on this ask!

A/N: this was so much fun to write >.< I loved this idea so much I had to squeeze out a fully fledged fic! Enjoy!

Word count: 746 words.

TW: mentions of Physical and psychological torture, mentions of murder, one sided hatred, barely mentioned Gen oopsie daisy! bit of angst, bit of fluff

Reina’s job wasn’t easy, tend to a psychotic temper mental murderer who’s overly obsessed with her ‘’lover’’, a person whom she kidnapped, imprisoned, and killed people for. It wasn’t ideal, but Reina had to pull through, her parents need treatment for illnesses, and younger siblings to care for. Even if she’s stuck in a lonely quite mansion with a mentally broken person, she will make sure her family are happy, safe, and healthy. Even if it’s assisting the imprisonment and subsequent mental and physical torture of this poor innocent darling.

Speaking of, the first few weeks with Gen’s toy were painful. Staying quite while someone begs at your feet, sobbing hysterically, asking to be let go, asking to be killed, anything to ease the atrocities they have to deal with. Reina is human, of course she would feel bad for you, who wouldn’t? But dare she do a thing, what will happen to her family? What will Gen do to her in general? The last time someone tried to save you it ended with Reina having to clean up so much blood, having to somehow get rid of the stench of infected wounds, blood, and dead carcass.

It wasn’t worth it, Reina would tell herself in a mantra. They have everything in the world, so what if they’re completely isolated, only being able to talk with a deranged woman for barely 2 hours before they’re dragged off to the master bedroom? So what if I can hear the bloodied screams and cries of agony even all the way across the mansion as that poor creature gets tortured endlessly? I don’t care if they’re locked up in the basement after I had told my mistress of them attempting another escape. I don’t care. No, I don’t.

I don’t care so much so that I sneak them food when they’re being starved intentionally, taking them out for walks in the morning in a nearby park whilst my mistress is at work. I don’t care at all, no, in fact I don’t care what happens to them that I intentionally have sharp cutlery lying around. I actually hate them, but why do I hate them? Best to find out by talking with them about anything that comes to mind. I should get closer to Gen’s sweet darling so they don’t get any ideas on trying to escape obviously! I only do what my mistress tells me to! Which is to ensure her darling’s safety and to stop any escape.

So why am I running? Running so fast and hard, with you tripping trying to catch up to me, me holding your soft hands whom I fell in love with after months of caressing and comforting you. Ah, right. I’m running towards my house, with a bag full of cash that will keep me afloat for up to a year. I’m running so I can save you, my dear, take my family with me, and escape past the borders of Xelera, your home country, but not mine, never mine. We will go to my country and arrive safely by god’s mercy, my country and yours never got along, which is even more beneficial.

I am sorry, I am so sorry, I had hated you in the beginning, blinded by the witch’s beauty, I had risked your life numerous times, and you got hurt because of me, but now I will right my wrongs. I will make sure you, me, and my family are all safe in my childhood home, be warned though fair darling, it’s a bit cramped. But that’s okay, I love it when you’re squeezed against me. I know as soon as we enter the border’s of my gloomy country, the skies will clear and the sun will shine brighter because of you. You light up my life and my heart. I may have saved you, but you saved me as well.

How I adore you, you tortured soul. Here I am, writing this all down as to not forget, we reached our destination. We found our childhood home, and now as I’m writing this, you rest on my small bed, snoring. I am so happy, with you, with my family, with myself. I have never been this happy, you made that possible my dear. You light up my world, I hope to live the rest of my life with you by my side, I love you, dear.

-Reina Aranis, your love and light.      Xoxo

November 7th XXXX

[ticklishraspberries]

Experience (Dipper, Mabel, Pacifica)

Summary: Pacifica feels out of her element when she watches the twins roughhouse. Lucky for her, Dipper doesn’t mind showing her how it’s done. (Based on a prompt by the lovely @veryblushyswitch!! This could be interpreted as Dipcifica, I do hint to a bit of crushing but the fic could be read as totally platonic too. Hope you enjoy it!)

Pacifica Northwest had not had a normal childhood. Well, that was selling it quite short. She had grown up as a rich, spoiled child who was cared for by nannies rather than her own parents. All of her friends were hand-picked and approved, other children who were trained to smile and look pretty, to obey. And, as the only heir to the Northwest name, she had no siblings to play with, leaving her to use her imagination as she played with expensive, porcelain dolls.

Most of the people in Gravity Falls were terrified of her, or treated her as some sort of celebrity. They were desperate for her approval and attention, but only knew the most basic, textbook facts about her. Yes, it was a privileged and comfortable life, but it was lonely in its own special way.

It wasn’t until Pacifica met Dipper and Mabel Pines that she realized all that she had missed out on. She watched the way that the two of them interacted with one another, or with their great-uncles, or their friends, and a wave of jealousy went through her.

Although their relationship had gotten off to a rocky start, Pacifica quickly grew to view the Pines twins as the friends she had always longed to have. Their chaos, creativity, and genuine kindness were all traits that she had rarely seen in the people her family allowed her to socialize with. It was a very welcome change of pace.

Speaking of chaos, it was rare to be around Dipper and Mabel and not be drawn into the madness of their everyday life if Gravity Falls. When they weren’t getting into trouble with the various creatures around, they were causing trouble around the Mystery Shack.

Pacifica had come over to join the twins for a double-feature of two terrible films for the sole purpose of making fun of said films, and the afternoon had ended with Mabel pinning Dipper to the floor and tickling him until he swore that she could pick the movie next time. Pacifica had sat to the side, watching them with the curiosity of the sheltered child that she was.

She couldn’t even remember the last time someone had tickled her, or if she was even ticklish herself. As she watched Mabel shriek when Dipper’s hands struck a counter-attack on her sides, she couldn’t help but feel left out of the fun. Despite becoming friends, she felt that Dipper and Mabel still had an image of her in their heads, the untouchable and spoiled girl she used to be (and still slipped back into the act on occasion) and therefore, she was left out of the roughhousing. Was it strange that she wanted to experience that?

After Dipper had agreed to Mabel’s terms, he looked flustered beyond belief, and he was winded as though he’d run a marathon. Pacifica would almost dare to say he looked cute. Before she could entertain the thought further, Mabel was grabbing her hand and dragging her upstairs to read the new magazines she’d gotten, complete with boy band posters and makeup tips galore.

She was allowed to spend the night, and Dipper, likely traumatized by all the long nights with Candy and Grenda, had gone to sleep on the couch downstairs for the night.

For such an energetic girl, Mabel was quick to fall asleep, leaving Pacifica alone with her thoughts for just a few minutes, and she tentatively ran her own dainty fingers over her stomach beneath the blanket, and felt no urge to laugh or twitch away. She remembered reading somewhere that it was impossible to tickle yourself, but she figured it was worth a shot. She drifted off to the sound of Mabel’s breathing shortly after.

***

The next morning, Mabel shook her awake with unnecessary urgency, with the excuse that Stan was making pancakes for breakfast, and they needed to stack their plates before Dipper went back for a second helping.

The two girls made their way down the creaky stairs of the Mystery Shack, Mabel humming to herself the whole way. Pacifica was surprised to see how much energy she had in the mornings, but followed without comment.

As they entered the kitchen, Mabel grabbed two plates and began tossing pancakes onto them both while Pacifica took a seat next to Dipper at the table. Stan offered her a toothy grin, and Ford gave her a polite nod over his newspaper. Dipper gave her a little smile before shoveling another forkful of pancake into his mouth. Mabel held most of the conversation at the table, and once they were all finished eating, the twins got to helping their great-uncles with the dishes.

Pacifica wasn’t sure how to be helpful, having never really done her own chores before, but Dipper seemed to notice her hesitation and asked her to help him dry off the plates and hand them over to Mabel. She did so, forming a nice assembly line that got the kitchen clean quickly, letting the kids run back up to the attic to plan their activities for the day.

“Oh, I totally forgot!” Mabel suddenly exclaimed. “I’m supposed to go to Candy’s house today! She wants to show Grenda and I the stuff she made at robotics camp!”

Pacifica really didn’t want to go home yet, but she barely had time to accept that fate before Dipper spoke up.

“That’s alright Mabel, Pacifica and I won’t go on any cool adventures without you,” he promised.

Mabel grinned before running off to the bathroom to get dressed and ready for the day, leaving Pacifica sitting on her bed, feeling Dipper’s eyes on her.

“What are you smiling at?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dipper flushed. “Oh, sorry, I just…I think this is the first time I’ve seen you without any makeup, or jewelry. You actually look like we’re the same age when you aren’t all dressed up.”

Pacifica had honestly forgotten that she had washed off her signature purple eyeshadow and removed her earrings and bracelet before bed last night, and her own cheeks went a little pink as she realized she had been seen by the whole Pines family with a messy ponytail, and wearing a pair of Mabel’s baggy sleep shorts. “Thanks, I think?” she said.

“Don’t get used to me complimenting you,” he replied, but his grin told her he was joking.

Mabel returned shortly after, telling Pacifica that she could raid her closet for whatever she wanted, before giving her a hug and leaving again, the sound of her calling goodbye to Stan and Ford echoing throughout the house.

“So,” Dipper said. “Since I promised we wouldn’t do anything exciting without Mabel, I don’t really have any good ideas for the day. I wanted to show you something cool, y’know, but I don’t want to do anything too crazy for your first time, but I still want it to—”

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I don’t need to hunt down some weird creature to have a good time, you know. We can just…I don’t know, watch another movie?”

Dipper’s nervous expression softened at that. “Okay!”

Pacifica took Mabel’s offer to borrow some clothes, taking a pair of denim shorts and a purple sweater which boasted a puppy playing basketball on it, and took the borrowed outfit into the bathroom to change and give Dipper the privacy to do the same.

They met up back in the living room, with Dipper already flipping through a stack of DVDs.

“Now that Mabel isn’t here, I don’t have to sit through a rom-com,” he said cheerfully, but then frowned. “Unless you want to, that is. I picked yesterday, so if you have something else you’d rather watch, we totally can watch that instead.”

The mention of his promise to Mabel only reminded her of the thoughts she’d had the night before. Still, Pacifica chuckled at his rambling. “Pick whatever you want. I liked the ones we watched last night, they were cool.”

Dipper’s face lit up once again, and plucked a DVD out of the pile, popping it into the player before joining her on the couch.

Pacifica had already swallowed her pride so many times recently: Dealing with the significant drop in her family’s wealth was a good example. So, there was really no reason to hold back what she was thinking. Besides, while Mabel was probably her best friend, it felt easier to talk to Dipper, after he’d seen her vulnerable, crying in a closet at a party, or covered in dirt and grime during a battle with a triangle demon. What did she have to be nervous about?

“Sorry I didn’t like, help you when Mabel was bothering you,” she said. “I’ve never really…had a tickle fight before? So I didn’t know if I should try to intervene.”

Dipper, who was still digging for the remote amongst the couch cushions, raised an eyebrow. “It’s okay, I mean, there really is no etiquette to it…But you’ve never had a tickle fight before? Like, ever?”

She shook her head. “I don’t have siblings, and none of my friends were the touchy type.”

“But, it’s…That’s just, like, a rite of passage in life!” Dipper said. “I don’t think I’ve gone a week of my life without Mabel tickling me.”

“Well, you seem really ticklish, so I guess it’s hard to resist,” Pacifica replied, smirking.

Dipper’s cheeks went red, but he narrowed his eyes. “Well, maybe it’s time you experience it, since you want to talk all confidently.”

Pacifica didn’t say anything, just widened her eyes in anticipation as Dipper’s hands reached out and grabbed at her sides, fingers wiggling.

The surprised, genuine laughter that burst from her lips was foreign even to her; she couldn’t remember if she had ever laughed that hard. The sensation was overwhelming, and although her body was screaming for her to escape, she was…having fun.

She brought her knees up to her chest, a poor attempt at defending her torso, and Dipper just gleefully began squeezing her knees, making her squeal. It was surely the most undignified sound to ever leave her lips, and she couldn’t even be bothered to care.

Not quite knowing what she was doing, she reached her hands out and poked her fingers into Dipper’s stomach, and felt proud when he began to giggle too.

While Pacifica was clearly quite ticklish, Dipper was apparently absurdly sensitive, and so his laughter quickly overpowered hers, making her feel mischievous and proud, a grin stretching across her face.

Dipper was quickly backed into the corner of the couch, Pacifica hovering over him and using one hand to scribble at his neck while the other snuck behind his knee, making him cackle. It was actually pretty cute, but that was a thought to analyze another time.

She assumed that she had won the tickle fight, a victory on her first try, but she wasn’t expecting Dipper to suddenly regain enough strength to push her back against the cushions and launch a new attack on her tummy and sides, making her kick her legs and shriek like some creature from Ford’s journals.

“Okay, okay!” she cried. “I can’t—”

Dipper stopped immediately, letting her sit up and catch her breath, arms wrapping around her torso to try and make the phantom sensation of his fingers go away.

When she met his eye, he was smiling, his cheeks flushed and his hat crooked on his head. “So, how was that for your first tickle fight?” he asked.

She couldn’t help but smile too. “It was fun. But, I think it’ll be better next time, when I win.”

Dipper raised his eyebrows. “Oh, is that a challenge?”

“Yup. And I’m not above asking Mabel for pointers,” she replied.

“That’s so not fair!” Dipper said.

Pacifica just giggled.

It had been a weird experience; being tickled was a lot different than she had imagined it, childhood memories of it still foggy, the whole fight-or-flight aspect having slipped her expectations. But regardless, letting loose and laughing like that had been fun. Refreshing, even. It made her feel like Dipper didn’t see her as some expensive, fragile item that would shatter in his hands, and then sue him for the damages.

Before either of them found something else to say, Mabel came bounding through the front door of the house, and peered into the living room. “What did you guys do while I was gone?” she asked in her usual bubbly manner.

Dipper caught Pacifica’s eye and grinned. “Wanna see what it’s like to win 2-against-1?”

Pacifica returned his grin. “Definitely.”

The two of them chased Mabel all the way up to the attic before they caught her, but it wasn’t long before laughter filled the Mystery Shack once again.