#politely put me in a headlock sir

[blackkatmagic]

Kat... You're reblogging a lot of 212th art and I am very *chinhands* (⁠☉⁠｡⁠☉⁠)

;)

The generals are gone, and no one has any idea what happened to them.

Cody knows the men are talking, that rumors have started to spread with roughly the same speed as a ship in hyperspace, but there's not much he can do to stop them. If he had any information that a briefing would clear up, or if he could make some kind of announcement that would settle their nerves, he would, but there's no helping anything.

The generals are gone, and at this point Cody is almost entirely certain they're not coming back.

Waxer at least has the good grace not to slap Cody’s hands away when he checks comms for the hundredth time that morning alone, though Boil, loitering nearby the way he always is, very obviously rolls his eyes. “Nothing yet, sir,” he says, and Cody manages not to pull a face through sheer force of will more than anything.

“Let me know if there is,” he orders, even though he knows Waxer isn't about to skip over a message from either command or the generals. “And check in with Rex. See if he’s gotten any word.”

“Fives has been on the line with me as often as he can,” Waxer says, and offers Cody a grin. “The second anything comes through, you’ll be the first to know, sir.”

Cody has to force himself to pull back and take a breath, rather than checking again. “Thanks,” he says, and then, because he can't leave well enough alone, “How’s the commander holding up?”

Waxer hesitates, glances up at Boil and then back at the equipment. “Fives said she’s still meditating, sir. She’s been in her tent since they made camp last night.”

Cody grimaces, rubs a hand across his face. Not well, that means. Not that he can blame her. Ahsoka's too young to suddenly be left in command of a whole legion, and Rex will do his best, but—

Kenobi or Skywalker turning up any time now would be useful as hell, but at this point Cody isn't holding his breath.

“We’ll meet up with Torrent soon,” he says. “Two days over the mountains and then another to the bay.”

Waxer doesn’t say he knows, that he drew up half the marching plans as Cody's lieutenant. “Yes, sir. Comms are going to go down again in about an hour, if you want to message him before then.”

Cody casts a baleful look skyward, towards the tangle of moons so close that there's barely sky visible between them. This whole mission would be made a heck of a lot easier if the planet was normal, but—well. A main planet they're forbidden to set foot on and a hundred independent moons, all with their own political rivalries, isn't the strangest situation Ghost has ever been in. He can see precisely why General Kenobi had looked like he’d needed a drink when he heard where they were being assigned, though.

“Noted. Thanks, Lieutenant,” he says, and claps Waxer on the shoulder, pulling back so he’ll resist the urge to check the comms again. Their rest break is almost over, and he doesn’t need to comm Rex, but it’s tempting, even if it will just make Rex roll his eyes at him. Hovering, he calls it, and Cody's not currently close enough to put him in a headlock for it, so better not to.

#my writing #everything returns #codyxan

[dunkzillla]

New Tricks for an Old Dog (2/?)

William Regal x Wheeler Yuta, Chuck Taylor x Wheeler Yuta

This took a little while but here is chapter two! A small filler chapter until the next one which is Uh, more fruity.

Title: New Tricks for an Old Dog

Pairings: William Regal/Wheeler Yuta, Chuck Taylor/Wheeler Yuta, Bryan Danielson/Daniel Garcia, Jon Moxley/Eddie Kingston, William Regal/Tony Schiavone

Ratings/Warnings: Mature — Derogatory language towards sex workers, mentions of death due to terminal illness.

Word Count: 2473

Parts: ONE

Summary: William Regal is a lonely old man looking for a way to feel alive.

The soft sounds of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra on the radio are disrupted by loud jockeying, the scuff of boots and grunts.

“Bryan, Jonathon, do remind me, how old will you turn next birthday?” William Regal says as his two wayward adoptees stumble into the room, the smaller of the two hanging off the larger, arms wrapped around his neck in a headlock.

“Forty two, sir.” Bryan says, though he doesn’t release the hold on Jon. Jon doesn’t answer, two busy trying to push Bryan off of him.

“Then it would be wonderful if you acted like it, dear.”

“He started it.” Jon grunts, finally managing to detach his little hanger-oner.

“Moxley, I simply don’t believe that, but even so, I don’t care, not at the breakfast table.” Regal says, and he turns the page of the newspaper he’s reading. His two protégé’s take their seats at the long wooden table, instantly reaching for toasted bread, crumpets and fruit that line the table each morning. His chef, Claudio, makes sure that they have a banquet morning, noon and night.

“So, did you go see him?”

Regal tips his newspaper down to look at Bryan, who’s talking around a slice of toast. “Hm?”

Bryan swallows before he speaks again. “Daniel’s friend, did you go and see him last night?”

“Jesus Christ, you’re not seeing hookers now too, are you old man?”

Bryan’s head whips to Jon, a scowl twisting up his face. “They’re not hookers, they’re sex workers, escorts. We don’t call them hookers.”

“They’re not escorts, you book escorts through an agency, real high class kinda shit, hookers stand on the street and suck your dick for the price of a gram of crack cocaine.” Jon shoves half a slice of toast into his mouth and chews on it like it tastes bad.

“I can assure you the price I paid would get you more than a gram, Jon. Yuta was quite lovely, Bryan, you were right.” Regal says, setting his newspaper down in his lap and picking up his tea to take a sip.

“Are you going to see him again?”

“I think I might, he was very enthusiastic, we had a lovely time.”

“Of course he was enthusiastic, you’re giving him money and a good time, it’s a win fucking win.” Jon throws the crust of his toast down on his plate and pushes himself away from the table, storming away in true Moxley fashion.

“What the fucks his problem?” Bryan asks, grabbing a peach from the centre of the fruit bowl.

“Haven't the foggiest, did he get into a fight with Mr Kingston again?”

“Probably,” Bryan says, biting into the peach and slurping at the juice that trickles down his palm. “He talks bad about paying for sex but paying for sex is better than having sex with Eddie Kingston.”

“Now Bryan, don’t be spiteful. They’re very sweet together when they don’t keep me up till five in the morning arguing about who was looking at Claudio’s rather nice rear end the most.”

Bryan huffs out a laugh, but he finishes the rest of his peach in silence. The music comes back into focus, and Regal resumes reading his paper.

“You enjoyed it, then?” Bryan says after a while.

Regal closes his paper again. “Very much so. He was nothing like I expected. Pretty little thing, very polite and sweet. And dare I say he seemed to enjoy our time together.”

“Danny always enjoys it when I come around. When they get good men it makes them happy. Are you gonna’ put him on retainer?”

Regal hums. He can’t say he hasn’t thought about it. Last night with Yuta was wonderful. He’s never used the services of a sex worker before, hadn’t ever thought about it until Bryan told him all about Daniel and what they are to each other. He’d denied it to himself for quite a while. He’s an old man, he really has no business looking for a young man to have sex with him just because he has the money to pay for it, but he’s gotten lonelier lately, and with the way Bryan had described Yuta, he couldn’t resist taking a look. He told himself that even if it only happened once that would be okay, a young man looking to earn some money would get just that, and they’d at least have a nice time.

But they had more than a nice time, and Regal would really like it to happen again. Yuta seemed to want it to happen again, with the way he said he was looking forward to their next meeting. Or maybe he’s a foolish old man believing the words of a young man paid to say things like that.

“I’m not sure, I guess that would be up to the young man. Is that what you do with Daniel?”

“Tried to, but he fights me every time I bring it up. He’s furiously independent and tells me that I can’t stop him sleeping with other people because I don’t own him,” Bryan rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling fondly, “He's a brat, but I’m working him down.”

“You sure do like a challenge, don’t you?”

“He won’t resist me for much longer.”

“All the luck to you, Bryan my boy. What’s on the agenda for you today?”

“Teaching a kickboxing class at the gym at ten, probably stick around to see if anyone wants one on one training.”

“You’d better get going then, or you’ll be late.”

Bryan reaches for another peach, “Yes sir.” He grins at him, giving him a salute before he’s leaving the room.

As soon as it had become noisy the room falls quiet again, with only the sounds of the radio to be heard. For all that he bemoans the two, Regal’s thankful that he has Bryan and Jon living with him in this huge house of his.

He’s thankful for them, period. They found him at a hard time in his life, widowed, drinking and taking whatever pills he could find, and they pulled him back from the brink, keeping his gym going when he’d all but given up hope on it.

They don’t make him feel any less lonely, though. They’re always around, in and out of their home at all times of the day, dropping in on him when he’s in his office going over accounts and figures to bring him food or a cup of tea. But it’s nothing like having a partner, and when he’s alone in bed at night, wishing for the warm touch of a lover, he feels the loneliest.

Bryan suggested using an escort when Regal divulged his loneliness to him one evening, telling him about his own trips to see Daniel on a street half an hour away from their home. He’d dismissed the idea at first, but then he’d laid abed alone, and it was all he could think about until he asked Bryan for the street number again and made a plan to go.

Regal had tried dating in the past, but he found that most men that were attracted to him were more attracted to his bank account than they were him, and while he enjoys spoiling the people he cares about, when someone is rinsing your wallet and not giving anything back, not even love or affection, it really doesn’t feel good, so he’d given up. At least paying for company Regal can control what he spends, who he spends it on, and just what he gets in return.

Regal finishes his tea and takes his cup into the kitchen. Claudio is there, preparing vegetables by the sink. Claudio had come to him not long after Bryan and Jon had, a friend of the two, down on his luck after losing his job. Regal had taken pity on him and given him a job at the gym. He was a good employee, his passion for fitness and nutrition was quite evident, especially when he started handing out prepared meal plans to some of their more regular clients. He told Regal once about his love of food, and how he had always wanted to be a chef but had never been able to quite land the job of his dreams. Regal took him into his home and his kitchen immediately after.

“Mr Regal, how are you today?” Claudio asks him politely, wiping his hands on a cloth.

“Wonderful Claudio, thank you, and you?”

“Wonderful too sir, thank you. I’m just making some soup. Would you like some for lunch this afternoon?”

Regal hums, “That would be great Claudio, thank you. I will be back around noon, I’m going to run some errands for a little while.”

“I’ll have it ready for you when you get back sir.”

“Smashing, thank you Claudio.” He gives him a gentle wave before he heads out, grabbing his keys from the hook by the door and heading out to the car.

Regal goes to the bank first. He’s not at all paranoid about the fact that he gave a stranger his credit card and the PIN number for it, but he’d like to keep track of the amount spent on it, just in case he has to cancel it because the spendings getting a little out of hand. He uses the little machine to check his account, and finds no transactions since he gave Yuta the card. He wasn’t expecting that. He wasn’t expecting excessive spending either, because Yuta had tried to give it back to him, told him it was too much to accept, but he expected a few transactions. Anyone would be silly not to take advantage of having such a thing given to them.

Regal asks the teller to set up the mobile alerts for when the card is used and then he’s on his way, getting back into his car and heading to the cemetery.

The florist is across the street, and he heads over to her and makes the usual conversation with her as he chooses which bunch of flowers to buy.

“Miss Rose, beautiful as always. I’ll take these, please.” He picks a bunch of sunflowers speckled with a few red roses.

“Thank you Mr Regal, nice to see you as always.” She says, wrapping up his flowers and handing them over to him with his change.

“You too Miss Rose, have a lovely day.”

He takes the flowers over the road into the cemetery. He makes sure to come every few weeks to top up Tony’s grave with a fresh bouquet, to tell him what he’s been up to and if anything’s been happening.

“Hello my love, I hope you like these.” Regal says, and he gets down on his hunches so he can start pulling away the old dead bouquet from the vase of his beloved late husband's grave.

It’s been many years since Tony passed away, over a decade, but it doesn’t hurt any less, nor has his affection for him diminished, he still loves him the way he always has, and he misses him dearly.

If there’s one thing that William Regal has learnt being rich, is that money can’t buy you everything. It can solve a lot of problems, it can give you a wonderful life, but it can’t buy you everything, and Regal realised that when he threw every dollar and cent he had at Tony’s cancer treatment and it didn’t do anything. He still died.

“I met a beautiful young man last night. You’d have loved him, great fashion sense, should have seen his boots.” Regal says, and he uses the pen knife in his pocket to snip the ends of the flowers off so they fit in the vase. The flowers fill the vase and bring colour to the otherwise grey stone. He runs his fingers over the picture of Tony that’s mounted on his stone, a time before cancer took over his body and withered it away.

“I think I’m going to see him again. His smile was beautiful, and his touch made me feel, well, like I’m not alone in the world. Alive.” He whispers the last word, like it’s not a word he should say in a cemetery.

“I know what you’d say, ‘oh you old fool, trying to relive your youth’, maybe I am, petal, maybe I am. Maybe I want to feel the excitement I did when I met you.” He smiles, thinking about meeting Tony in his youth and falling in love with him. They had the time of their lives together, even if they couldn’t live together forever.

“Keep out of trouble up there, won’t you pet?” He says like he always does. He blows Tony a little kiss before he stands up, hearing his knees click.

He waves to the florist before he gets back into his car and drives home. Like he said, Claudio has the soup warming, just ready and waiting for him with a warm bread roll.

Jon joins him, noisily slurping down his own bowl of soup as he recounts his tails of the morning, his little tantrum about Regal’s escort usage completely forgotten.

Once he’s enjoyed lunch and spoken with Jon for a while he retires to his office, works on the gyms accounts until it’s time for dinner. This time Bryan, Jon and Claudio join him, and he enjoys listening to them all talk about their days, Jon flirting with Claudio so much that Bryan pretends to wretch at the shameless flirting. Claudio receives it wonderfully, though he doesn’t quite return it, there’s a blush on his cheeks that tells Regal that Claudio is too embarrassed in front of everyone to do so.

When dinner is cleared away, Regal goes back to his office and works on the accounts a little more before he gets restless. It’s only half eleven, and he’s nowhere near tired. He’s bored, and the books he picks up don’t interest him, nor does the radio or TV. He’s lonely, and Jon is off god knows where with Eddie and Bryan is nowhere to be found.

So Regal goes upstairs and takes a shower. He combs his hair back, spritz on aftershave and a nice suit, and gets into his car and drives to the same street he did last night.

Yuta is standing on the sidewalk, one leg crossed over the other with his arms over his chest, his little bag over his arm and his sparkly top glinting under the street lights. When the young man sees his car he smiles and comes towards him, hips swaying in his tight little skirt, and leans into the window that Regal opens.

“Evening Mr Regal.” He says sweetly, eyes shining as bright as his glittery lipstick.

Regal smiles. “Evening, little Yuta. Care to join me?”

#william regal #wheeler yuta #bryan danielson #jon moxley #claudio castagnoli #eddie kingston #tony schiavone #writing #wheeler yuta x william regal #bryan danielson x daniel garcia #the real juicy stuff is coming next chapter I promise!!!

[spideyjlaw]

and it’s a wrap! can’t wait for the heaven and hell that is thor love and thunder

#they’re so funny ! #this picture >> #chris armss😳😳😳😳 hey! #politely put me in a headlock sir #marvel #mcu #thor #thor love and thunder #chris hemsworth #taika waititi

[mrjsbunny]

Ledger!Joker NSFW Headcanons

Warnings: degradation, dumbification, mild descriptions of sexual acts, references to drugs, this is pretty tame in the grand scheme of NSFW posts but I feel like it’s out of line?? Hopefully it isn’t.

- J is a firm believer that you’re too small/weak/d u m b/silly to do anything for yourself

- dumbification dumbification dumbification

- he uses blowjobs like a white noise machine. He will just tell you to get him off while he’s sitting around doing whatever he does. He won’t acknowledge you but somehow that makes it more fun. You would start getting creative with your technique to get his attention, it never works, but he enjoys it

- ✨CUTE NAMES✨ like bunny, dove, birdie, mamas, sweet girl/boy/baby, hunny bunny

- fake sympathy is his forte. “Aww that hurts, huh?” He never means it.

- he will lay you against his chest while y’all are laying down and make you cum. He has full access to your neck for choking (or a headlock) he can hold you down so easily in this position and degrade you and ugh so good

- if you try to pull away from him while he’s fucking you he will not let you. “Come back, bunny, where are ya going?” “Uh uh, stay there and take it.” And he will wrap your hair around his fist or take a handful, put his other hand on your upper back (your throat if you’re on your back) and carry on

- he has absolutely trained your throat 100% no doubt no debate. He took his time holding you down on his dick until you learned to relax and stop fighting it. He’d teach you to be messy because it’s always better.

- he likes to show you off. He will pick out an outfit for you to prance around in around “business” partners and his goons and what not. “Isn’t my dove the cutest?” The question is rhetorical, if anyone answers they’re dead.

- you have to use your words unless he has told you otherwise. He can recognize when you’ve been fucked dumb and really can’t speak (happens kind of often) but if you just try to avoid answering imposing questions he won’t stand for it. “Ya know we use our words around here, bunny.” “Ya wanna try that again?” “Ya have to ask politely, I don’t do handouts, sweets.”

- forced eye contact AND denied eye contact fffffff if he’s had a bad day and wants to get his anger out, it’s denied. If he wants to feel powerful and on top of the world, it’s forced.

- *this one is specific to people with vaginas I’m sorry I don’t really know how to describe anything else as I have not experienced anything else* he enjoys eating pussy he just doesn’t like feeling looked down on. It’s a struggle. But he’ll compromise and sit on his knees and pull your hips up so you’re essentially upside down. Then he’s always the one doing the looking ya know? J is good at keeping a rhythm (he learned that’s the best way to get people off, consistency) sometimes his face starts to hurt from the tightness due to his scars. If they weren’t there I don’t think he’d ever stop.

- J isn’t a big time smoker but something about fucking you from behind while holding a blunt or a cigarette WOOOOO maybe even you riding him, he’s propped up against the wall/headboard and y’all are passing a blunt back and forth oh my god oh my god

- He’s a dick and he will blow smoke in your face to be like what are you gonna do about it?

- ok maybe he’s a smoker just for my own selfish needs

- if you cum quickly from him doing very little to help he will absolutely rag on you for it. “You’re close already? Isn’t that cute.” “Dumb baby, cumming so soon. Ya’d think I never give ya any attention.”

- he reprimands you like a dog. If he catches you doing something you’re not supposed to he does the classic dad “AHT” to get you to stop. But it’s not him not knowing how to talk to a partner, he likes treating you like a pet. And he knows you do too.

- deity kink 🙂

- DADDY KINK SIR KINK I could do a whole other post about that dude it makes me feral

- y’all know that song that was popular on tik tok that says “two hands on her mouth like a muzzle”? Yeah that.

I feel like I could for sure do better but tbh I woke up like less than two hours ago and I’m struggling with keeping thoughts straight. Again, I apologize for any typos and my grammar is always shit bc I can’t be bothered rn :/

#ledger joker #ledger!joker #joker headcanons #ledger joker smut

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨 | 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐧𝐞𝐫

Warnings: mention of assassination, graphic smut, adult content, mentions of murder, pervy men in the workplace, falling for a villain, guns, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, alcohol.

Masterlist

Summary: Jackson just wants a normal life but thanks to his business, his chances were slim. but after meeting you, his chances it doesn't seem like such a long shot anymore.

A/N: Reading Jack's Villian wiki gave me the idea, and the personality section is what really set it in motion. He's more human than we thought, folks. I felt VERY inclined to write this. :)

Jack wasn't proud of his work. He never was. But he knew that once he got into the business, he could never get out. And as fate would have it, you met him on the job.

Your boss was a ruthless, lying, manipulative son of a bitch, and you just so happened to be his receptionist. You hated your job and the way your pig of a boss would always make it sickeningly obvious he was starring at your breasts when asking you to make a call. You hated him. Sometimes you would imagine ways to kill the bastard and get away with it too.

Apparently, someone else had the same idea, but actually took the initiative of hiring an assassin. That's where you came in.

It was a late Friday night, and after a long grueling day of putting up with your boss's demands, you were so happy to see the front door of your home. You couldn't wait to collapse on the couch with a glass of red wine and have a leisurely weekend.

You fiddled with your keys as you tried to find the right one. 'Why the hell did I have all those keys anyways?' you thought to yourself bitterly as you shuffled them around.

But the sound of a gun cocking from behind you made you freeze. Air caught in your throat as you tried to convince yourself you didn't just hear what you thought you heard.

"Don't let me stop you," a smooth masculine voice from behind you sneered, pressing what you presumed to be the barrel of the gun point-blank onto your back, "Unlock the door, step inside. Scream and you die."

You gave a small nod, your search for the right key more frantic now, and once you found it, your shaking hand fumbled with it before finally slipping it into the keyhole, your trembling hand opening the door, and you felt yourself get pushed inside.

The door slammed behind you, and that's when you whipped around, now face to face with your captor. The gun was still pointed at you, but the man who was holding it was what stopped you in your tracks.

If someone told you that morning that you were going to be held at gunpoint by one of the most attractive men you had ever seen in your life, you would have laughed in their face. But you weren't laughing now.

"What do you want?" you managed to squeak out, his piercing blue eyes bore into yours.

"Well, I have a job to do, to put it plainly, and you're one of the only people that can help me complete it," he began to explain, "And you don't have a choice."

"What are you wanting from me?"

"Your boss. I want you to call him and tell him that there's something going on and he needs to swing by the office. Once he obliges, my guys who are waiting outside the building as we speak will take it from there."

"You're going to kill him?" you gasped. Sure, you considered doing it yourself, but you never thought anyone would actually try to do it.

"You don't need to worry about that. What you need to worry about is the gun that's pointed at you right now," he concluded, reaching for your home phone, politely holding it out for you to take.

You paused, and he raised a brow. Out of instinct, you tried to bolt past him to the front door, but when you realized it wasn't going to work, it was too late. He grabbed you violently as you thrashed in his grasp before he collapsed the two of you on the couch. He held you in one position until he felt your breathing calm, your neck in a headlock as you faced away from him, panting like an angry dog.

"Stop getting cute," he hissed next to your ear, and even though you couldn't see his face, you knew his teeth were gritting.

He finally trusted you wouldn't pull anything else after he gave a harsh squeeze to your trapped throat, and he let you go, and you immediately scooted to the other side of the couch.

You felt his eyes on you, and with a sudden jerked movement, he held out what you thought was the gun, making you flinch. But with a double-take, you realized it was just the phone.

You reached out, taking it, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt as if you could see something in his gaze. Something longing. Something not quite there. Reluctance.

Shaken fingers press the numbers as you click 'dial', but before you could hold it up to your ear, your captor stopped you.

"Nuh-uh. Speaker."

You nodded, pressing the speaker button before the dial tone echoed through your home. After three times, the line was suddenly picked up.

"What the hell are you doing calling at this hour?" your boss's harsh voice hissed through the phone.

"Yeah, Mr. Snider, there seems to be something happening at the office. Someone from the administration is here and demanding to see you," you tried your best to sound convincing.

"What do they fucking want?" he scorned, his tone making you flinch.

"I wish I knew, sir. They won't tell me anything," you tried to force a smile in your voice.

"Fucking useless," he grunted, making you shift uncomfortably.

"Should I tell them you're on your way?" you proposed.

"Fuck. Fine. I'll be there in 15. And hey, don't get bitchy with me, yeah? Don't forget, you work for me."

"Yes sir," you muttered, loud enough for him to hear.

All the while Jack was watching your reactions. He saw how you flinched at strong tones and saddened at the insults.

The sound of the line going dead was what snapped him back to reality, your still shaking hand setting it down on the coffee table.

"Is that all you needed?" you finally spoke.

"I wish I could say yes," his words made your gaze shift to the floor in disappointment, "I need to stay here until the deed is done."

"How long will that be?"

"After I make this phone call to let the guys know the target is on his merry way, we'll wait until I get a call back. Then we can part ways and you'll never speak of it to anyone. Or else I will have no other choice but to come back and kill you."

You curled in on yourself, resting your chin on your knees as you didn't answer, the sounds of a number being dialed making you cringe.

The sudden movement of him standing up made you flinch, and for a second you thought you almost saw a look of sympathy flash through his eyes before he held the phone to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up.

"Stu? Yeah. Yeah, she called. He's on his way. He'll be there in 10. Make it look believable, yeah? Clients aren't paying us for anything that looks tacky."

Jack continued his conversation on the phone as he made his way to your kitchen, still in clear view of you. A few moments later he came back, the phone now hung up, a glass of water in his hand.

"Drink," he commanded.

"I'm not thirsty,"

He suddenly set the phone down, taking one of your hands and wrapping it around the cup, "I don't want you passing out on me. Drink," he commanded again.

Now it felt as if you had no choice. You lifted the cups to your lips, gently sipping as he watched you like a hawk until all the water was down your throat.

"Good girl," he praised jokingly, setting the glass on the table.

He then sat down with you on the couch. There was a prolonged silence.

"What's your name?" you finally asked.

He turned to you and cocked a brow.

"Sorry... just trying to make conversation," with an assassin you added bitterly in your head.

He scoffed, the room going back to silence, the two of you waiting... listening.

"Jackson."

"What?" you questioned, looking at him.

"My name. It's Jackson."

"Oh," you replied, "Well, I'm (name)."

"I know," he smirked.

You mentally facepalmed. Of course he did. He was an or assassin for fuck's sake.

"Can I call you Jack?" you asked meekly.

"Seeing as you won't ever see me again, sure. I haven't been called Jack since I was a kid though."

You could tell he was trying to open up. Just a little. Besides, he was right. It wasn't like he was ever going to see you again.

"Why?"

"Rippner. It's my last name," he explained.

"Oh shit," you said in spite of it not being lady-like, "That was a dick move on your parent's part."

"Tell me about it."

The conversation unfolded. You spoke about names, childhood experiences, hell, even what your favorite ice cream flavor was. It was a careless conversation with the mentality of getting everything out there.

You almost forgot that your boss was being killed right as you spoke. You felt the man in front of you open up. He was okay with being vulnerable with you.

That was until the phone rang, Jack rushing to pick it up.

"Yeah?"

His facial expression was unreadable as you watched him. Finally, he hung up the phone, his face returning to the same cold and distant look it had the moment you two had met.

"Well, (name), this is where we part ways," he began, but before he could walk to the front entryway, you grabbed his hand.

He looked startled as he turned around, his eyes searching your face for an answer. Your move was bold. Risky. But you were willing to take it.

"Don't go." your mouth moved before you could stop it.

He narrowed his eyes, almost as if he didn't believe it was you talking. Yet his hand was still being held tightly in yours.

"Please don't go."

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

1 Year Later

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

You flipped in your sleep, half awake when you realized the spot next to you was bare, the indent of the once sleepless man in his place. You sighed as you flipped back over, looking at the clock.

2:15 am.

You pulled yourself away from your kingdom of soft pillows and blankets and slipped out of bed, your feet pressing against the hardwood of your home. You left the bedroom, crept down the hallway, and when you were finally met with the living area of your home, you were met with the form of your lover.

He was hunched over on the couch, hovering over a glass of red wine that rested in his hand. He seemed to be lost in thought, his blue eyes no longer piercing but distant.

The creak of the floorboards under you gave your position away, the man glancing up at you, spooked.

An instant look of regret graced his beautiful features, "Honey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Hush," you sighed, "It's warmer out here anyway," you concluded.

"Even without your mountain of blankets?" he smirked, thinking of how adorable you looked cuddled up under the mound of linen.

"The bed is always cold when you're not in it," you whined, stilling next to him as he continued to nurse his glass of red liquid.

"Sorry love," he sighed, setting down the glass before wrapping his arms around you, your head resting on his chest as you listened in on his heartbeat. It was soft and lulling as you felt your eyes begin to droop.

That was, until you felt his hard-on press up against your back. A smirk crossed your lips.

"Is this why you couldn't sleep?" you questioned, subtly rubbing up against his bulge as you heard his breath catch in his throat.

"As I said," he muttered, "Didn't want to wake you."

"You could have just said so," you sat up, giving him a passionate kiss, one hand going in his hair, the other going down to his crotch, where he let out a primal groan at the feeling of your touch.

"I'm gonna be honest, I'm not really in the mood for foreplay," he stated, his hand reaching your lace panties and ripping them off, pulling you on his lap so you straddled him.

He pulled his boxers down to his knees, his cock springing up. The tip was flushed and angry, pre-cum leaking from the tip, the ridges of his veins pumping.

You bit your lip as you hovered over his gorgeous cock before sinking down slowly, the both of you moaning as you become one. Not long after you began to bounce up and down on his cock.

Jack growled as he grabbed a hold of your hips, helping you as he lifted you on and off his cock, searching for solace in orgasm. His eyes locked with yours as you rode him, and in his eyes, you found nothing but love and admiration, every part of him screaming in appreciation for you.

To put it plainly, he loved the way you loved.

You felt yourself tighten, yet to your disdain, your lover found his release first, a loud groan escaping his lips as he poured himself into you, the warmth in your belly growing as you felt him let go.

By the time he was finished, he was completely blissed out, but you weren't done yet. You wanted to cum. You pulled him out of you, and he watched as his spend dripped out of your swollen mound.

Before he could ask if you were okay, you were already back on him, your thighs now straddling one of his.

"What are you doing?" he asked darkly, raising a brow.

"Shut up," you hissed, rubbing your clit on the meat of his thigh, not wanting to lose any fraction that was already built up.

He caught the hint, his hands finding your hips once again as he helped you drag your throbbing cunt against the skin of his leg. All the while, he whispered filthy things in your ear, knowing it would get you there faster.

"Look at you go. Bet you're not so tired now, eh? Humping my leg like a little bunny. Such a good girl, huh?" he coaxed in your ear, and you nodded desperately, immediately agreeing with whatever he was saying. You just wanted to cum.

Finally, you felt yourself come right up to the edge. Jack knew all your body language perfectly, smirking at you as he began to speak.

"Come on, cum for me, baby. Let me watch you cum,"

And you did. Oh, you did. Your ears rang as your eyes shut tight, feeling your body tense and shake as you let your orgasm sweep you away.

Jack helped you ride through it, his words of praise now seeping into your brain.

"Good girl, there you go," he crooned as you began to catch your breath.

You panted as you slumped against him, hearing his heartbeat once more, matching your breathing with his. You felt him press a small kiss to the crown of your head.

"Thank you," he whispered, and all you could do was nod.

Then he began to stand, "Now come on. Let's go take a shower."

"Can I bring the wine?" you asked intently.

"Fuck it," he laughed.

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

3 Months Later

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

"You're doing it again,"

Jack looked up at you at the sound of your voice. He was sitting there, his hands folded and his jaw clenched, his leg bouncing up and down in anxiety as he went back to staring at the developing pregnancy test on the table.

"What?" he finally said.

"You're overthinking. I can see it in your face."

He rolled his eyes, seeming harsher than he intended. But he was nervous. In complete honesty, you were the first thing Jack had that had any semblance of normal. and after the things he's done and after the things he'd seen, normal was everything he wanted. And that's what this baby meant.

He craved normal. Life as an assassin didn't really scream domestic. But with you, everything he had ever wanted was wherever you were.

"Whatever the test reads, we'll be okay," you ensured, walking behind him and wrapping your arms around the anxious man, doing your best to calm his rapturing nerves.

"Yeah," he agreed, taking a deep breath, "We'll be okay."

The timer suddenly went off, the both of you perking up, chomping at the bit to get to the test, your fingers clutching it as you looked at it.

You gasped.

Jack froze.

You bolted into his arms, test in hand, bawling like a baby.

"You're gonna be a dad, Jack! You're gonna be a dad!!" you squealed, your arms wrapped tightly around him as he held you tight.

He began to tear up, "Really?"

You pulled back and nodded, showing him the test that read positive. He took it in his hands as a means to do a double-take, looking at the two little blue lines.

Without a word, he embraced you again, holding you tighter. His voice was muffled against your shoulder. From him came a small:

"Thank you."

#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian x reader #cillian murphy #cillian x y/n #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #red eye #jack rippner #jack rippner x reader #jack rippner smut #cillian murphy x reader smut #cillian murphy characters #cillian #murphy

[catsnkooks]

Mandalorian Elegy

Commander Cody x Obi-Wan Kenobi

summary: Obi-Wan heads to the Mandalorian countryside to aid the Fett family farm to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the city. He expects a few months of hard, simple labor, but his plans complicate when he finds himself falling for the simple hardworking farmer instead.

rating: G

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none for right now!

a/n: i got sucked into this bc @new-anon makes too good art.....i love it

click here if you want to be added to my taglist!!

here it is on ao3!!

next chapter

Obi-Wan tugged his suitcase closer to his legs as he watched another car roll down the dusty road. It was only the third one he’d seen since he’d arrived and that was about, oh, thirty minutes ago. He didn’t mind the quiet; it was refreshing, actually, after so many years living in the city. Boga, his trusty service husky, sat beside him, watching the car disappear down the road. He stroked her head and she broke into a happy grin, her tail beating a rhythm into the concrete floor of the train station waiting area.

“What do you think, girl?” he asked her. “Quite different from the city, hm?”

Just then, a truck pulled to a stop in front of them, and a man jumped out of the driver’s side. He waved to Obi-Wan and he waved back.

“Are you Mr. Fett?” he asked, standing and shouldering his backpack.

The man laughed, and Obi-Wan decided right then that he quite liked it. “Please, call me Cody. Mr. Fett is my dad. Are you Mr. Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan smiled and held out his hand. “Yes, however, I must now insist you call me Obi-Wan.”

As Cody came closer, Obi-Wan studied his host. He was just slightly taller than Obi-Wan, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing off deep bronze tan skin. He had on a wide-brimmed hat, shielding his brown eyes from the sun. What Obi-Wan found most peculiar, however, was the thin scar that curled around his left eye.

Cody extended his hand and grasped Obi-Wan’s in a firm, warm grip. “Nice to meet you, Obi-Wan. I'm sorry I'm late. There was a little bit of an emergency. And who is this?” He knelt down beside Boga, who sniffed his upturned hand then smashed her face against it.

“That’s Boga.” Obi-Wan grinned at Cody’s laughter as Boga jumped into his lap to lick his face.

Cody stood again after giving a few more pats to Boga and motioned to Obi-Wan’s suitcase. “Is that everything?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Just the essentials.”

While Cody loaded Obi-Wan’s suitcase into the back of the truck (with just one arm, Obi-Wan noted, impressed), Obi-Wan took a seat in the passenger side, convincing Boga to sit in the middle. Cody climbed into the driver’s seat and, giving a reassuring pat to Boga, started the engine and drove them away from the train station.

Obi-Wan listened intently as Cody described the Fett family farm. They had a mix of almost everything: beef cattle, chickens, pigs, ducks, and a few horses. His younger brother, Bly, was dipping his toes into plant farming and had a sizeable garden and a greenhouse. It all sounded so homely to Obi-Wan.

In turn, Obi-Wan told him about his life in the city. He nodded along politely as Obi-Wan described his work with his organization, how he worked most of his life helping those displaced by war or other conflicts. He laughed when Obi-Wan described Boga’s favorite activity in the park; chasing the squirrels.

Soon, they arrived at a large farmhouse; wood paneling with a wrap-around porch, large windows, and a brick chimney at the back. A younger man with short-cropped blond hair stood in front of the front door. Obi-Wan assumed it was one of Cody’s brothers, based on their similar appearances.

Cody parked the truck and killed the engine, allowing Obi-Wan and Boga to step out. Boga hopped out of the truck and eagerly sniffed along the perimeter her leash allowed her. Cody grabbed Obi-Wan’s suitcase from the bed and motioned him forward.

“This is where I grew up,” Cody said. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” Obi-Wan knew he was trying to stay humble, but he could detect a little pride in his voice. He nodded toward the other man who was coming off the porch to greet them. “That’s my little brother, Rex.”

Rex scoffed and punched Cody in the arm. “Not so little anymore.” Indeed, they were about the same height and build. If Obi-Wan didn’t know any better, he would assume they were twins. Rex held out his hand to him. “Nice to meet you. I'm surprised you didn’t run screaming as soon as you met this idiot here.”

Obi-Wan laughed at their brotherly antics. “Oh, I'm quite enjoying myself so far.”

A boy popped his head out from the house. He had the same complexion and dark hair as Cody, though his fell in gentle curls down his face. He turned to yell into the house, “Dad! The city slicker is here!”

Cody sighed next to Obi-Wan while Rex went up to the boy and put him in a headlock. “That’s Boba,” Cody explained, looking exasperated. “You’ll have to excuse him, he has chronic teenager syndrome.”

Obi-Wan smiled and nodded sympathetically, remembering how Anakin was as a teenager. “Weren’t we all like that in our teenage years?”

Cody smiled ruefully. “I think I was a little more behaved.”

“No, you were worse.”

Obi-Wan looked up as another man stepped out of the house. He assumed this was their father, Jango Fett. He was perhaps a few years older than Obi-Wan, though a life of hard work and war had weathered his features to make him look much older. Obi-Wan could tell where the Fett brothers got their resemblance. He nodded to Obi-Wan and held out his hand.

“Jango Fett,” he said, succinct.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Obi-Wan said, clasping his hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

He wrinkled his nose at Obi-Wan’s epithet. “Just Jango is fine, son. Now, come on in and get comfortable.” He turned and made to go in the house, but first pointed a finger at Boba, who Rex had released from a headlock. “Be nice.” Boba just huffed and rolled his eyes.

Obi-Wan walked into the house. It was just as homely on the inside as it was on the outside. Simple wooden furniture and decorations indicative of a rural, farming lifestyle dotted around the rooms and a large staircase dominated the area, leading up to the second floor. Obi-Wan was shown to his room (right beside Cody’s so if he ever needed anything, he was handy) with Cody insisting on carrying up his luggage for him, and was told to come down to the kitchen for lunch when he was done.

Boga made herself comfortable on the bed while Obi-Wan unpacked their things. He put his clothes in the drawer and set his few knickknacks on it, arranging them to his liking. He pulled out his phone and plugged it into the outlet beside his nightstand, sighing at the lack of service. He would have to ask Cody later for the Wi-Fi password, but for right now, it was…freeing to be away from the hustle and bustle of the wider world. He set out Boga’s bed beside his own (though it would be fruitless because she always found herself on Obi-Wan’s bed eventually) and put on her harness, deciding to leave her leash unclipped and sitting on the dresser. She followed behind him as he made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Obi-Wan knew Mandalorian food smelled wonderful, based on his experience in Little Keldabe in Coruscant, but it was nothing compared to the smell of home-cooked food. His mouth watered and his eyes stung just a little from the scent of heavy spices in the room. Even Boga whined at the delicious smell coming from the stove.

“We thought we would start off easy with you,” Cody said, offering a plate to Obi-Wan as he sat down at the table. “Didn’t want to kill you on the first day.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I appreciate it.” He took a bite out of the dish and groaned. It had been too long since he’d had anything this good. The spice wasn’t overwhelming, probably very tame to Mandalorian standards, but it still warmed his face. He noticed Boba looking disappointed over his own plate, and laughed. “Oh, don’t worry; you’ll get me one of these days.”

Conversations flowed easily as they ate. Jango talked about the day-to-day duties around the farm while Cody explained the logistics. Obi-Wan told them about his organization, what they did, and how they could help while he was stationed here. Boba left halfway, complaining about boring adult talk, and said he was going to go find Din. When they finished, he helped Cody wash the dishes, listening closely as Cody told him about his newest project.

“I found her while I was looking for a lost calf,” he said. “She’s beautiful. Gorgeous color, nice build, and her mane is so soft. I don’t know if she belonged to anyone before, but she’s pretty wild. It was a miracle I could get her into the lot.” He motioned out the window with a soapy brush. “I want to get her saddle broke before the fair. She’s already taking the halter well and if she’s feeling good, I can lead her around. But she’s kicked me more than once if I try anything else.” He sighed and rinsed off a cup, looking forlorn.

Obi-Wan nodded. “I suppose things like this take time. But, if you're half as stubborn as she is, I think you’ll get it.”

Cody turned to Obi-Wan, surprised shortly before he gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”

Obi-Wan fought down the blush that he knew was invading his cheeks. He could not think about how adorable his host looked after Obi-Wan had complimented him. “Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Have you named her?”

Cody sighed again and shook his head. “No. Rex keeps telling me not to in case I can’t tame her. If you have any suggestions, I’ll take them.”

Obi-Wan hummed. “I'm sure I could come up with something.”

Suddenly, there was a crash from the other side of the kitchen. Both men whirled around and found Boga shamelessly cleaning off the leftovers. Obi-Wan shouted at her and pulled her out of the kitchen and outside while Cody laughed, clutching his stomach with a wet rag. Obi-Wan apologized but Cody waved him off.

“At least let me make it up to you?” he asked. “I may not have cooked many Mandalorian dishes, but I can follow a recipe well and I’ve been told I'm a good cook.”

Cody tilted his head, considering his offer, and then nodded. “Alright. But next time we put the leftovers up first.”

---

Later that night as Obi-Wan laid in his bed, listening to the crickets and frogs chirp outside of his window, he considered the events of the day. It was definitely…different from what he expected. Sure, he had done his research before he had even considered coming, but nothing could compare to actually experiencing it in Obi-Wan’s book. Part of him considered he’d spent too much time around Satine and her cohort.

He wrinkled his nose at that, turning around in bed and wrapping an arm around Boga, ever faithfully by his side. He had called her once Cody gave him the Wi-Fi password, as he knew she worried about him. He’d told her about the train ride down and his initial glimpse of the farm, how her description of her homeland hadn’t really prepared him for what to expect. She’d laughed and only then confessed that she actually hadn’t spent that much time in the Mandalorian countryside.

“But Satine,” he’d said, frowning “in your book you said—.”

She’d waved him off. “You know everyone embellishes a little in their autobiographies.”

Yes, he supposed he’d spent far too much time in the city. It would do well for him to be out here, in the fresh air and the vast fields.

And with farmers with strong, tan arms and brilliant smiles and dark hair that curled softly at the edges and eyes so deep, you could get lost in them.

#star wars fanfiction #the clone wars fanfiction #obi-wan kenobi #commander cody #obi-wan kenobi x commander cody #commander cody x obi-wan kenobi #codywan #my writing

[50shadesofmittens]

Completely fucking unfinished but I wanted something from this AU to make it online

<I have decided to call this the Headlockverse. Basically the idea is a group of Custodians used to sneak out of the palace in order to do the kind of work ALL Custodes in cannon have been doing, and Kitten was one of them. Then all bar Kitten died, and after a brief period of being mad and then being lost Kitten took over alltheir jobs. One of these tasks was keeping tabs on various fragments of Magnus who have sentience and were deemed unable to be kept safe in the palace for one reason or another, or who kept escaping the palace. As it happens, these interactions are sometimes unplanned and sometimes have unusual results. The song Headlockby Imogen Heap reflects the relationship Kitten has with the various Magnus-fragments he’s met over the years- with the Crimson King ie the guy on Sortarius being the only one who has not met Kitten over the years>

…/…/…/…/…/…|…\…\…\…\…\…

Millennium 42, unknown restaurant

…/…/…/…/…/…|…\…\…\…\…\…

There is something very pertinent about anticipation.

Some would think that minutes were nothing in the life of an eternal, but there are certain things that can only occur on small time scales. There’s a certain mix of terror, doubt, and a conviction one struggles to maintain, and this mixture can only be experienced in the handful of minutes that it lasts. Time seems to stretch out and the feeling weighs on a person even once the wait is over, but mere days later that terror is forgotten. People remember the way they botched their audition or stumbled during their interview, but no longer can they remember why.

I spotted her on the catwalk wearing a nice dress and a headscarf. Even her satchel looked like something a local woman would keep, and at a distance I wasn’t sure if she’d dressed up the bag she always kept at hand or splurged and got a new one from a local shop. It was certainly fancy enough for her to pass as someone who had access or gifts from my own funds, with my silk jacket and gold-woven cravat.

I flagged her down. She smiled at me and left to maneuver her way over. Ringing a bell summoned the waiter, and I gave the man a brief description of my ‘young lady friend.’ The server smiled and promised they’d send in the right girl.

Sure enough, when the knock came and the door opened, she was right behind the waiter. Before we were even alone she leapt onto the plush sofa to embrace me.

“Oh my darling, it’s been so long! Oh, we have so much to talk about, so much to do! Mwah!” She cried with all the drama of a rapturous preacher as she planted a kiss on my cheek.

The waiter bowed swiftly and closed the door, leaving the two occupants alone for our ‘reunion.’ She remained enthusiastic in her hugging, and so I told her;

“You know jumping on me disturbs the displacer field. The waiter might’ve noticed.”

“But he didn’t.” A snicker echoed through the small dining room, and she pulled back with a shit-eating grin. “A man like that knows full well to look the other way as soon as a young, pretty thing moves in to greet her host. You wouldn’t have picked this place without checking every security detail and privacy guarantee. You always read the fine print.”

“It’s still an unnecessary risk you created.”

“I know, darling.” She kissed me again, still leaning on my arm. “But if you’re going to go through all the trouble of setting me up as your quote-unquote mistress, it’s only polite that I give them a show. To respect the effort you’ve put in, I mean.”

“Ana-” I said, trying and failing to be annoyed by her antics.

“&#131;&#131;&#131;&#131;.” Ana said, finally leaning back and doing her best impression of my “Ana-be-serious” face. “Is there something I’ve done wrong?”

I didn’t answer, knowing this game all too well. “Is the planet about to be exterminatus’d? Is my better half about to find me?” Ana continued, “Is one of my brothers about to jump out from behind that curtain and drag me, kicking and screaming, all the way home so he can cut off my head in front of billions of onlookers?”

“No. None of those things are about to happen.”

“Then you can stop looking so dour and glum.” Ana flicked my nose, before settling a bit farther away on the couch. “Now, I’m sure you’ve got some terrible news about Angelos or Cadia or something, but it’s been too long and I want to mooch off your funding. Let’s get lunch first and catch up on the non-apocalyptic news- however scarce it may be these days- and then you can fill me in on who’s killing who.”

“Ana-” I sighed. “please keep it at a reasonable amount.”

“Perks of being my parole officer; every lunch meeting is a feast.”

“You know we’re supposed to be mortals.”

Ana grinned. “Ah, but what rich young man takes his mistress out and doesn’t spoil her with more than she needs?”

“They might notice when we order seven pounds of food and they get back empty plates.”

“So we order fourteen pounds and eat seven. It’s fiiine. You worry too much.” She grinned. “Besides. It really has been too long. You still seeing that one girl?”

She grimaced. “Urk, never mind. Y’know breaking the furniture like that is just as unusual as my appetite, right?”

I unclenched my hand from the edge of the table. Ana was right, there were handprint-shaped indents in the iron surface. Handprints that reflected the true size of my hands.

I pressed my elbow into the table, rolling it back and forth to conceal the pattern in a smoother dent. “I’m fine.” I said. “I’ve been studying lately, so there’s not much to report.”

“If you say so.” Ana said. “Alright then, I know what I want to order. Let’s get some food, and then I can tell you what I’ve been up to.”

“You haven’t even looked at the menu.”

“I got a glance of one open on a table I passed on my way to you.” With that she leaned over me and pulled the bell-string.

I didn’t pay much attention while Ana ordered. When the waiter turned to me I pasted on a smile and said, “I trust she’s got enough food for us to share.”

“I see, sir. Are you happy with Miss V’neer’s customizations?”

“Missus, actually. And it’s pronounced ‘veh-near,’ not ‘van-ear.’” Ana said.

“Apologies, Madame.” I was a little impressed the waiter didn’t even flinch, even though Ana’s clothes were nowhere near expensive enough for her to pass as my wife.

“I trust her taste.” I said.

The waiter left with a bow, and Ana turned back to me. “You feeling a little better?”

I opened my fists. Only a little bit of blood, and most of it dried by now. “Well enough.” I said.

“Remind me to never bang you.”

“Remind me to never get insensate around you.”

“HA!” Ana laughed. “Wouldn’t stop me from robbing you blind, kitty-cat. I don’t need to pick your pocket, all I gotta do is get you to buy me lunch.”

“So true.” I said. “Pity. I can only flinch so much before it starts gets noticed.”

“Bull. You’re the only one there who pays attention. Everyone else lives in their own little bubbles of their obsessions and duties.”

“The Ecclisiarchy is surprisingly rational, these days.” I said. “The ones who make it to the palace are all true believers, at least.”

“I sincerely doubt your perception isn’t skewed by all the madness in that place.” Ana sighed. “Well, the preachers are less crazy than the Inquisition, I’ll give you that.”

Our food arrived. I looked out the window as Ana cooed over the food and asked questions to the waiter. All the people in the city, each with their own lives and dreams and fears and aspirations. How pitifully beautiful.

Finally the waiter left, and Ana dug in. I’m not sure which of us was giving the other space, but I felt indebted to her all the same.

“That isn’t a promise.” Ana said, eyes glued to the reflection in her cup. “For all you know He just wants to kill me.”

“Nonetheless, there’s a good chance I’ll be hosting you. Ana. I need to know more about what I’m getting into. I need to know how much danger we’re going to be in.”

“Do I still confuse you?” She smirked. “It’s not that hard. I in the whole sense am a fractured being. Just because I in the personal sense have multiple aspects to myself doesn’t mean I’m any less than a fragment of a human.”

“Yet you still show traits outside of your base drives.”

“Mm.” She took another sip. “Humans weren’t made to be two-dimensional caricatures. If I have a thought that would better suit a me who isn’t me personally, then I simply won’t think that thought. It’ll be thought by that me.

”Kleptomania, Anima, self-analysis, insufferable love of gene-dad-jokes, love of the Sapphic-” She grinned, “obviously, and a few others- all those are mine and mine alone.”

“But how does it work.”

“Well, occasionally I start thinking very, very hard about two or more beautiful women and/or daemonettes flicking each other, so presumably the rest of me has no appreciation for yuri and the associated genres.”

“So it works like intrusive thoughts? If, say, you got into a barfight ‘cause you stole some bloke’s purse and banged his wife, and he said something dumb and you reallywanted to punch him, that desire to punch a man would go to the Crimson King?”

“You’re focusing very hard on this ‘guest’ thing.” Ana pouted. “I mean, what red-blooded pansexual doesn’tget distracted by the thought of two birds getting it on?”

“A) one who also has a healthy dose of self-control and self-restraint, and B) has that everworked on me?”

“Point. But seriously, you’re unusually on edge. Usually that would get you to crack a smile-”

“I’ve got an unstoppable daemon primarch about to arrive in the holiest place in the galaxy.”

“You need to calm down, Amon. You’re too wound up, you’re not thinking clearly-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Xanalyse. Damn fuckin right I’m tense, I’m about to be the only person standing between the Emperor and oblivion!And I’m all alone because everyone under my command either hates my guts or doesn’t listen to a word I say, and you won’t help me redeem yourself!” He stood, throwing his hands up in exasperation. They got caught under the edge of the table and overcame the strength of the bolts securing it to the floor, flipping the entire table over and spilling food across the room.

They both stared, neither one having expected such a reaction. For a moment the room was quiet but for Amon’s heavy breathing. Ana waited until his breath evened out, or he started up again. He did not.

“… It’s flattering that you think I could destroy Father.” She said, bitter smile on her face. “And… you’re right. I haven’t been very helpful. Maybe it’s time I learned to live with myself.”

“Ana…”

“Delusion. Self-hatred. Wrath. Whoever else you haven’t told me about.” “They may be me, yet I still fear them. And can you blame me? Delusion so powerful it bends reality itself and destroyed all rationality is insanity. If I am wrong, then I must be mad to fear being swallowed up in it.”

“Ana I didn’t-”

She continued. “Self-hatred so strong it lashes out into the warp, psyker powers no longer at the beck and call of the psyker but instead summoning daemons and incurring hatred. Self-fladgillation so extreme it destroys everything and everyone around the poor boy.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Wrath so powerful that the desire to destroy becomes the only known goal of the man. That pursuit of revenge becomes an obsession, stripping away all other goals. To the point that he’d rather be a slave to an uncaring god than let ancient war crimes be forgiven.”

She shook her head. “I must be the stupidest bitch in the galaxy if I’m not desperate to feel that! Tell me, Amon, have you faced down all the ugliest parts of your own heart?”

“…I’m sorry.” Amon said. “That was insensitive of me.” He sighed, and flopped down to the couch.

“…I know that there’s no avoiding myself forever.” She whispered. “But at the same time, I know I’m not strong enough to overcome myself. In the end, it’ll be Reveul’s partner and the King. Billy and me, we’re good as gone.”

She looked Amon head-on. “It’s a bitter loop of growth and despair. I go out, face some unimaginable horror, and I survive because I’m me. I stay unchanged, because either I turn my trauma into rage at the monster, or I lie to myself about how much danger I was in. Except I can’t think those thoughts, and they go to another me. Then that me gets a little stronger, ‘cause there’s more of me personally contributing to his identity.

“You want to know how to fight the King? Then know this; we’re still connected to each other. Every time I meet someone so monstrous I want to destroy that person completely, he feels it for me. And every time he wants to nick someone’s shit, I feel it for him. I am still one person, even if different parts of me control different aspects. If I start changing, if I become a more aggressive person, then that part of me gets stronger.

“That’s why I can give a damn about my sons. That part of me died ten thousand years ago, but that just means any thoughts about them aren’t limited to just one of me. I rebuilt that part of myself from the ground up over these millennia. I’ve changed, and…

“I don’t know how much of me is someone I want to be. If insanity overpowers honor, rage overpowers curiosity, and guilt overpowers innocence I just… I don’t know if I’m someone I can love anymore.”

Amon didn’t know what to say. Perhaps there was nothing to say. Nothing that would make the galaxy they lived in any less of the shit-storm it was.

“I have honor, but not personally.”

#wip #headlock au #au #abandoned wip #tts

[up-sideand-down]

Sefikura Week -- Day 4

Wing (man)

So I’m kind of warping the prompt a little. 

“She’s cute.” Sephiroth glanced at Zack out of the corner of his eye. 

“What she is!” Zack protested. Sephiroth refused to look back at him. 

“Okay fine, not your type,” Zack said, “Yell at me for trying why don’t you.” 

“I am not interested, Zack,” Sephiroth said stiffly. 

“Of course not,” Zack said, “but half the room is.” Sephiroth couldn’t stop himself from staring. 

“There’s three big bets every year at this fuckin’ shindig,” Zack said, “Who throws up first, if Scarlet’s dress will be too small for her...bust, or if you pick someone up.”

“I’m never going to,” Sephiroth said. 

“I know,” Zack said, wilting a little, “but I got five gil running on this so dammit I’m going to try.”

“For five gil?” 

“I don’t like losing,” Zack said. They held eye contact for a long, tense minute.

“What about that guy?” Zack offered, “tall, dark handsome, almost as handsome as yours truly.” Sephiroth rolled his eyes. 

When dinner ended and the time came to mingle, Zack insisted on dragging Seph around for introductions.

“Come on,” Zack said, “Even if I can’t set up a date, the top SOLDIERs from every class are here. It would mean a lot, a nice chat, a little bragging on their part...” 

“Very well...but if you flirt I swear I’ll-”

“No flirting,” Zack agreed. 

Sephiroth never needed to talk much when he met with his SOLDIERs. Most of the men present had met him before and were polite enough. 

He’d never let Zack know it, but he did like listening to them. Seeing them open up around him. It was the reason he let himself be ordered to attend this stupid thing...besides the food. 

“Ahh...I hoped you’d be here,” Zack said, “Spike!” Sephiroth watched as Zack locked a blonde SOLDIER Third into a headlock and messied up his...already messy hair. 

“Gentlemen and Ladies,” Zack said, bringingt he young blonde forward, “This is Cloud Strife. Best Materia user in SOLDIER...besides Genesis.” There was a smattering of laughter at that and Cloud was welcomed into their conversation circle easily enough. 

Sephiroth waited a bit longer, watched Cloud listen quietly before speaking again. 

“So what makes you the best Materia wielder in SOLDIER?” Sephiroth asked. Cloud blinked owlishly--and those were very pretty blue eyes--before Zack interrupted. 

“Oh man, you should have seen it Seph-” Zack started. 

“Let him tell it,” Sephiroth chastised. 

“It was really nothing,” Cloud said, “Commander Rhapsodos-”

“You can call him Genesis,” Zack said, “We all know you’re his student.”

“Genesis...put me in charge of a trooper company outside Corel. We ran into a Grand Horn...I wouldn’t have been able to do it without the trooper fire, but they way they tell it...I threw I giant Firaga at it and it exploded into flames.” All the SOLDIERs laughed and Cloud blushed and smiled. 

“Really it took a few spells before we got it,” Cloud admitted. 

“It takes calm...and no small amount of natural magic proficiency to do that,” Sephiroth noted, “regardless of trooper fire.” Cloud blushed deeper.

“Thank you sir,” Cloud said. 

Cloud stayed close as SOLDIERs came and went. He seemed to be a friend of Zack’s. 

“Friend!” Zack scoffed, “He’s the only fellow backwater expert in this city.” Cloud nudged him. 

But Sephiroth noted Cloud’s career in SOLDIER, although still young, was still impressive. 

“How many tonberries?” Sephiroth asked. Kunsel was telling a story about a joint mission with Cloud. 

“13,” Kunsel said, “I thought we were dead. Cloud practically opened up the earth under them.”

“Just a little shake and they lose balance,” Cloud said, “My Ma figured that out once.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” Sephiroth said. 

“He’s a good man to have at your back,” Kunsel said patting Cloud’s shoulder, “nice hair too.” 

“It’s lucky!” Zack said, messing it up more.

“It is not!” Cloud protested. 

The party started to die down, everyone growing tired. But Sephiroth wasn’t quite tired of the tales Cloud Strife had around him. Cloud too seemed to be a little energized by the attention. 

But Cloud looked around and realized the crowd he had gotten used to was gone. Even Zack had wandered off. 

“I guess the party’s over huh,” Cloud said. 

“A shame,” Sephiroth said. Cloud bit his lip. 

“If you wanted,” Cloud said, “I was going to meet some friends out in Sector 8. You could come along...keep talking.”

Sephiroth found...he kind of wanted to.

“Lead the way Cloud.”

#i say #sefikura #sefikura week 2018 #Cloud Strife #Sephiroth #Zack Fair #Kunsel

[zephfair]

Day 15 Grimmichi ficlet

Due to RL issues I didn’t get this posted Sunday, and unfortunately I haven’t been able to finish 16 or 17 to my satisfaction. Technically, most of them aren’t to my satisfaction but these are particularly bad.

Day 15 Detective AU only this isn’t

I wanted to write some great mystery-detective tale but I ran out of time. So have this fluff.

Ichigo knew he got a lot of flak about being oblivious to certain things that weren’t directly under his nose, mostly from Rukia, but what did she know. Still, he privately considered himself a pretty smart guy who was good at picking up clues from those closest to him.

Like right after the war when he realized that Orihime was starting to develop a little crush on him. He didn’t want to say anything to embarrass her, so he treated her the same as always, just a little more carefully to take her feelings into consideration.

He prided himself on noticing it so soon because it wasn’t a week later that she asked him to take a walk alone. Ichigo suggested they walk in the direction of Urahara’s shop because he’d gotten the message that Grimmjow had a made a trip to the world of the living for one of their regular fights. Ichigo never missed an opportunity to spar with the mouthy jackass anymore.

Orihime got a funny look on her face but let him lead the way. Then she confessed her feelings for him, or rather, blurted out that she thought about him all the time and wanted to be more than friends.

Ichigo tried to let her down easily and haltingly explained that he cared about her so much but as a friend and she would always be a valued member of his friends. And she deserved someone better than him because he didn’t know if he could have feelings like that for anybody.

Then Grimmjow bellowed, “Kurosaki, get your ass in here!” from the door and Ichigo turned to Orihime. She smiled, dimmed a little by her eyes full of tears, but then she nodded and said, “I understand.”

When she threw her arms around him, he held her waist gently and let her tuck her face against his neck for a moment. “You’ll find someone who cares about you the same way,” he whispered. “Someone better for you.”

“I’m glad you have,” she dared to brush a wet kiss against his cheek and then pulled back, still smiling bravely.

Ichigo didn’t understand what she was glad he had, but he didn’t want to push her to finish her statement. He only smiled back and watched her leave.

An annoyed snort right behind him finally made him turn. Grimmjow was standing at his shoulder, arms crossed, annoyance radiating off him in waves. “What the hell was that about? You finally give in?”

“What?” Ichigo asked, thoroughly confused. “Give in to what?”

Grimmjow stared at him. “Are you serious? Your hormones? Her wiles?”

Ichigo shook his head. “You’re crazy. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So you and little miss healer aren’t hooking up?”

“No! We’re just friends! And where the hell are you learning all these expressions?!”

Grimmjow jerked his head toward the shop. “I have nothing to do but sit and watch shit TV until you get your sorry ass down here.”

“Well, stop watching whatever it is and learn something better.”

“Stop running around with every woman you meet and making me wait and I won’t have to.”

“My life doesn’t revolve around you, you know.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Grimmjow turned on his heel and headed back inside. Ichigo wondered why he suddenly seemed pissed but decided it didn’t matter. Sparring was always better when Grimmjow had a hissy fit anyway.

*******

After graduation, Ichigo took a part-time job at a coffee shop and it was there he met Himari. She was pretty and bubbly and way more outgoing than most of the girls Ichigo knew. She was friendly and often brought him snacks or shared when she brought extra lunch and talked about things she liked to do after work.

Then she surprised him with tickets to a concert for a band he’d mentioned he liked. Ichigo talked about it to Grimmjow the next time they met to spar.

“The concert’s next week. I think maybe she’s starting to like me.”

Grimmjow ran his hand over his face. “You really think,” he said flatly.

“I’m not usually wrong about these things,” Ichigo admitted.

Grimmjow looked like he was about to choke but he asked, “Are you going with her?”

“She’s fun and she’s nice, but...” Ichigo had thought about it. He couldn’t imagine what she would think about his double life as a substitute Shinigami. She’d probably think he was certifiable if he ever spoke about everything he’d gone through in Soul Society. No, he just couldn’t go out with someone if he had to hide so much about himself. “She’s not what I’d look for if I wanted to date.”

Grimmjow scuffed a rock with the toe of his boot and kicked it out of sight. “What’s wrong with her? She ugly?”

“No! Not at all actually,” Ichigo shrugged. “And it’s really flattering that she remembers stuff I like and all but I’m just not interested.”

“You’re a fucking weirdo,” Grimmjow informed him but Ichigo just bumped his shoulder.

“Takes one to know one.”

The bump turned into a shove from Grimmjow and then a push from Ichigo then a struggle until Grimmjow secured him in a headlock. “You calling me a fucking weirdo, Kurosaki?”

“At least we’re fucking weird together,” he choked out.

Grimmjow let him go so suddenly he stumbled. “Yeah. That,” Grimmjow mumbled and wandered off toward the ladder out of Urahara’s training ground.

*******

Ichigo tried to politely put off Himari without actually coming out and saying it. But he did tell her that he’d be busy the night of the concert so she should find someone else to go with. She looked very disappointed but didn’t push things.

The day of the concert Ichigo looked up in shock at the last customer in his line. Grimmjow stood there, somehow looking even more punk in a gigai and all his sullen glory. His hair was slicked perfectly, his jeans were tight and his shirt was unbuttoned far too low. The girls were already whispering among themselves and taking turns staring.

“Can I help you?” Ichigo was forced to ask since everyone was watching and listening. “Sir?” he coughed out.

Grimmjow’s rakish grin was slow and very wide. Ichigo heard one of the girls let out a little squeal. But Grimmjow only had eyes for him.

He leaned over to rest his arms on the counter. “Looking pretty good, Kurosaki,” he all but purred. “Nice hat. And little dress thing.”

Ichigo felt his cheeks begin to burn. “It’s an apron, Grimmjow. It keeps my clothes clean.”

“Are you saying you get all dirty?”

“Coffee stains everything it touches,” Ichigo informed him. “Now, what do you want?”

Grimmjow shrugged and then looked behind him at the rest of the employees who were still gathered by the sink, watching. Then he smirked directly at Ichigo again. “I want you,” he said, and Ichigo looked down when Grimmjow reached out to poke his chest.

“I don’t get off for another two hours.”

“I could help you get off.” Ichigo stepped out of reach when Grimmjow’s next poke became two fingers running down his chest.

“I’m not leaving work early just to...” Ichigo didn’t want to say “fight” or “kick your ass” where his co-workers could hear so he finished weakly “do you.”

“Won’t you?” Grimmjow’s grin could only be described as shit-eating now. “I don’t know if I can wait ‘til later for you to … do me.”

Yeah, that really didn’t sound good, Ichigo winced. He risked a glance at the girls who were staring openly now and silent.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, trying to get the situation back on track.

“Nah, I think I got everything I need here.” Grimmjow straightened up but crooked a finger at Ichigo in a “come here” gesture.

Ichigo swallowed hard but found himself stepping up until he was pressed against the counter. Grimmjow leaned over until his mouth was right at Ichigo’s ear, and Ichigo shivered when he said lowly, “Come by Urahara’s as soon as you’re done. I got a surprise for you.”

Figured Grimmjow wouldn’t want anyone else to overhear him talk about Urahara, but Ichigo took a step back before he replied, “Sure, I’ll be over as soon as I get off work.”

“Looking forward to it.” Grimmjow gave him another smirk and a little salute and sauntered to the door.

Ichigo felt like he was sweating and his heart was racing, but he hadn’t even drunk any coffee that day.

Himari walked up and stood beside him, watching as Grimmjow left and headed down the street. “Wow,” she said in a quiet voice of awe. “Yeah, I can’t compete with that.”

“Huh?”

“Have a good time tonight, Ichigo. You deserve it.”

“Okay?”

Himari patted his shoulder and went back to work. Ichigo was relieved that she was so cool and not upset about him turning her down.

Then he remembered that Grimmjow had said he had a “surprise” for him, and Ichigo broke out in a sweat again.

The thoughts of what Grimmjow might consider an appropriate “surprise” haunted him. It could be anything from the a new fighting move to the spleen of one of his enemies. Ichigo really hoped it wasn’t an internal organ.

He was late getting out of work since they got slammed right before his shift ended and he couldn’t in good conscience leave them short-handed. Ichigo hurried out the door only to find Grimmjow pacing the sidewalk in front of the shop.

“What are you doing here?”

“We’re going to be late,” Grimmjow said and grabbed his elbow to propel him down the street away from the direction of Urahara’s shop.

“Hey, where are we going?”

“I told you. It’s a surprise.”

“Oh boy.” Grimmjow let go of his arm once Ichigo matched his fast walking pace. “You’re not going to give me a hint?”

“Don’t you like surprises?”

“Depends. You’re not taking me to Hueco Mundo are you?”

Grimmjow snorted. “Please. Would I do that in a gigai?”

“Good point.” Ichigo followed him in silence for a few more blocks. “Give me a hint.”

“We’ll be there soon enough, if you hurry your ass up.”

So Ichigo kept pace as they wound their way toward one of the old temple sites. Grimmjow climbed the steps easily two at a time, and Ichigo, still mystified, kept up.

There was a neighborhood festival going on, and it brought back happy memories from his childhood and summer festivals. Ichigo smiled at the kids running around shrieking their delight. Grimmjow was standing beside a booth watching him.

“Is this it?” Ichigo asked, and Grimmjow’s face fell.

“Is this it?” he repeated.

“I mean, this looks like fun. Is this your surprise?”

Grimmjow nodded a little stiffly. “You said once that you had fun at festivals when you were a brat.”

“I wasn’t a brat,” Ichigo argued automatically. “But yeah, I did.”

“And there are fireworks later. You said you liked fireworks,” Grimmjow said defensively.

“Cool,” Ichigo said and felt himself smiling. Grimmjow rolled his eyes.

“What do you even do here? It looks like it’s just kids screaming and eating disgusting foods.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Ichigo enjoyed himself that night showing Grimmjow around the traditional games and foods of the festival and laughing at his poor attempts to fit in as a human. There were the promised fireworks, too, which were a small display but colorful. Ichigo noticed Grimmjow watching him out of the corner of his eye so he bumped him and smiled.

“Thanks. This was fun.”

Grimmjow humphed at him and bumped him back.

They left after the fireworks and walked aimlessly in the general direction of Ichigo’s home and the shop. After such a peaceful and relaxing evening, of course it was his shitty luck that they would run into two Hollows that were also apparently out for fun that night chasing the ghost of a teenage girl through a park.

Grimmjow cracked his knuckles with glee. “You take the one on the right? I got the left.”

“Sure.”

It was over all too quickly. Garden-variety Hollows held no challenge at all for either of them, even with Grimmjow in his gigai. Ichigo slapped his badge to his chest and stepped out in Shinigami form so he could finish the Hollows with his zanpakuto.

One solid swipe took down his opponent then he turned to watch Grimmjow. He was bouncing and bobbing like he always did when he was enjoying a hand-to-hand fight, and Ichigo was going to yell at him when he went in for a killing blow.

Only Grimmjow pulled it just enough at the last second and it knocked the Hollow down. Then Grimmjow grabbed it under the appendages that could have been shoulders and dragged it toward Ichigo. “Here,” he said, throwing it down at Ichigo’s feet.

“Gee, thanks,” Ichigo said.

“I can still kill it,” he warned and Ichigo got the message, ending it with his zanpakuto. Then he turned to where the ghost of the girl had been but she was gone, probably still running in fear, he thought. He’d have to remember to come back and talk with her.

“Well that was fun,” Grimmjow dusted off his hands.

“Yeah. We should do this again sometime.”

“If you want.” Grimmjow was looking at him closely. “Or were you talking about Hollow hunting?”

“Both,” Ichigo said and Grimmjow grinned broadly.

*******

Ichigo started to put the pieces together after that. The new thoughts haunted him all night. He wasn’t sure exactly what to do about it, but figured that maybe his friends could help.

It didn’t take away from his enjoyment of his and Grimmjow fighting the next day. While they lay panting on the ground of Urahara’s bunker, Ichigo asked, “Got any plans for tonight?”

Grimmjow lifted his head. “Nah, I was going to head back to Hueco Mundo after this. Why?”

“I just wondered if you wanted to hang out tonight.”

“Really?” Grimmjow’s face did something that Ichigo’d never seen before, but he said, “Yeah. Why not.”

“Great, we’re getting together at Orihime’s. Meet me at my place at seven.”

“Oh. Who’s gonna be there?”

“Everyone, even Rukia. She got a couple days away from Soul Society.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Why not?”

Grimmjow indicated himself with a little wave, but Ichigo said, “Nah, no one will mind.”

Grimmjow settled back down and stared up at the dome above. He didn’t say anything else so Ichigo left when he’d got his breath back.

Although Grimmjow showed up early, it certainly seemed like he was in a mood. He practically snarled when Ichigo appeared and his shoulders went higher and tighter the closer they went to Orihime’s.

Ichigo finally stopped outside her building asked, “What the hell crawled up your ass and died?”

“Nothing. We doing this or not?” Grimmjow stuck out his jaw like he was expecting to get hit.

“Come on,” Ichigo was completely exasperated but he led the way up to Orihime’s door. Chad and Uryu were already there, and although they looked surprised, neither said anything about Grimmjow.

Then Orihime popped her head out of the kitchen. “Hello! It’s nice to see you again, Grimmjow!”

He grunted in reply and threw himself down on a chair. Ichigo wasn’t sure how to cover up his rudeness but tried. “You’re not trying to cook for all of us, are you?”

“No, no,” Orihime assured, and behind him, Uryu and Chad let out relieved sighs. “Our special guests want pizza so we’re ordering in. I’m just putting together a special surprise for dessert!”

“Oh. Great,” Ichigo said weakly. “Wait, did you say special guests? Who’s coming?”

She smiled brightly at something behind him, and he whirled to find “Rukia! Hey, Renji! Wasn’t expecting to see you!”

“Good to see you, Ichigo,” Renji slapped his shoulder. “It was a wonder Rukia and I could both talk our way into getting a couple days off at the same time.”

“Glad you did!” Ichigo smiled at him and so he saw when Renji noticed Grimmjow.

“What the hell—”

“Be cool,” Ichigo hissed. “He’s here with me.”

“Oh. That’s—really? Damn, I owe Rukia money.”

Ichigo was lost. “What? Why?”

“Come on guys, we’re trying to decide what we want on our pizzas,” Orihime called to them to join the others.

The evening was not a great success, Ichigo thought. The others basically ignored Grimmjow except for Orihime who tried to go out of her way to include him to no avail. Grimmjow didn’t make it easy on them. He sprawled, he snarked, he picked his teeth, he was just generally obnoxious.

When the others voted to watch a movie, Grimmjow said he’d had enough and was leaving. Ichigo was torn for a second but decided to stay with the group.

After he left, Ichigo said, “I think I know what’s going on.”

They all turned slowly and stared at him.  Ichigo pressed on, “I think he’s missing his Fraccion. Maybe he’s decided to recruit more. But don’t worry I’m not going to fall for it.”

There was a long, long silence. Uryu and Orihime looked at each other. Renji opened his mouth and shut it. Chad reached out and put a hand on Ichigo’s shoulder. Rukia said gently, “Ichigo, you poor dumb bastard, how have you survived this long?”

“What? What!”

“Go talk to him,” she commanded. Ichigo started to interrupt but she kept on. “If one of you doesn’t man up and confess soon, there will be hell to pay.”

“I don’t understand,” Ichigo said.

“Obviously,” she gave an unladylike snort. “Now go find him and tell him what you just said. And listen, really listen to what he says back.”

Ichigo looked around the room but there was no moral support forthcoming. “You should go,” Orihime agreed.

“Fine, but we’re only going to end up fighting,” Ichigo huffed and left for Urahara’s.

He let himself in, wondering if Grimmjow was even still there. But he was, leaning against the door frame of the room he used, but Ichigo could tell his lounging calm was forced.

“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you with your friends?”

“I think we need to talk. Well, I don’t but there was a general consensus that I needed to come talk to you.”

“About what?”

“I’m not exactly sure.”

Grimmjow stepped back and let Ichigo into the room, shutting the door behind. Ichigo looked around but there was no place to sit except the bed, so he sat there. Grimmjow remained standing while Ichigo tried to explain what he’d told the others and why he’d begun to think about the way Grimmjow was treating him.

“You really are a dumbass,” Grimmjow told him when he was done.

“Rude.”

“But true.” Grimmjow peeled himself off the door frame and swaggered across to him. “It’s a good thing you never tried to be a detective because you’re shit at solving mysteries.”

“What are you talking about?”

“First, the healer, she’s been in love with you since way before she was in Hueco Mundo.”

“Bullshit.”

Grimmjow ignored him. “Second, that other girl, the one you work with, she liked you from the first day she met you.”

“You’re crazy, you don’t know—”

“Yes, I do know because you can’t manage to tell when someone likes you, even when they’re standing right in front of you!”

They were both breathing hard now, winding up toward a usual fight, Ichigo thought, until Grimmjow suddenly deflated. And Ichigo’s mind whirled.

“Wait a second,” he said slowly. “Do you mean...”

“I’m standing right in front of you,” Grimmjow ground out.

“You are,” Ichigo said. “But how… why...”

“I don’t even know why,” Grimmjow said sarcastically. “It sure as hell isn’t because you’re Sherlock Fucking Holmes.”

“How do you even know this stuff?” Ichigo said idly but he was staring up him. “You really like me?”

“I took you to see fireworks,” Grimmjow said. “I shoved myself into this meat suit to go to your work place so they’d know that you were off limits.”

“Wow,” Ichigo said. “You’re kind of bad at this too.” Then at Grimmjow’s snarl, he said hurriedly, “I didn’t mean last night. That was actually a lot of fun and I enjoyed it. Being out with you. And the fireworks. I meant you coming into work and acting like— Oh. Were you trying to make them jealous?”

Grimmjow turned his face away so Ichigo went on, his heart doing a weird jump when he began to realize. “I think they were more jealous about you. Two of them kept asking me about your hair and if your body was as good as it looked in those jeans.”

“What’d you tell them?”

“I told them it was even better. And oh.” Now Ichigo was putting the pieces together faster. “You really do like me.”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “I even willingly sat through a dinner with humans, a Quincy and not one but two Shinigami.”

“But you were such a dick, even for you.”

“The Shinigami were all over you. The big red one’s lucky he still has both hands.”

“Holy shit, you really do like me!”

Just like that the penny dropped and the scales fell from his eyes. It was like replaying all his interactions with Grimmjow through a different filter, one that let him see that although Grimmjow was always acting like a dick still somehow it was his way of showing interest in Ichigo.

In a weak voice, Ichigo admitted, “I thought all this time you just wanted to fight someone strong.”

“I do,” Grimmjow swaggered closer. Ichigo looked up at him. “It doesn’t hurt that I also wanna fuck him.”

Grimmjow settled right on his lap which was weird given the size difference but Ichigo wasn’t about the complain when he got his arms around Grimmjow and his mouth on his. Grimmjow held his head in his big hands and ground his hips a little closer as he straddled Ichigo. Ichigo forgot how to breathe for a while.

When Grimmjow started kissing down his neck, Ichigo gasped, “How long?”

“How long is what?” Grimmjow’s voice in his ear made him shiver uncontrollably.

“How long have you liked me?”

“I’m not answering that. But definitely longer than you’re thinking. Dumbass.”

As Grimmjow claimed his mouth again, Ichigo had to admit that yeah, he kinda was. But now that he was all caught up, he was going to enjoy it.

#my fic #my 30 days #fluff and nonsense

[christmasinkorea-blog]

Beating Around the Bush: Nine Months in South Korea.

Well hello there. 

My last blog post was about five months ago, and since then I have really been getting a grasp on Korean culture. Honestly, it takes a long freakin’ time to truly understand a culture. I’ve been to Portugal. I’ve eaten Portuguese food. I traveled with Portuguese friends and even muttered a line or two in the language (THANK YOU SPANISH FOR BEING SO SIMILAR), but... I really have not experienced the full, or even half of the effect of Portuguese culture. Do you see what I’m saying? BEM.

I have summoned you all today to my amateur and rambling blog post to share with you some very interesting aspects of Korean culture. Now, this is not your average -- Koreans like kimchi, Koreans speak Korean, Koreans like Kpop-- type of post. Oh no. These four things I am about to share with you will have you thinking KAJA TO KOREA, I KNOW SO MUCH MORE NOW.

Let’s get weird.

Culture tip hana (1)~ The Knock Back

  You ever been in a restaurant and need to do ole number one or number two? “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” You get up. You gracefully walk to the restroom. Wind in your hair. Everyone looking at you. Please.. please no pictures!

Wait where am I?

Oh, so you arrive to the restroom. You see all the stalls are closed, BUT is anyone in them? You knock on the stall. You hear one of many things “ONE MOMENT!” “OCCUPIED” “YEAH?!?!?”. Ok, I must wait. 

-- Different scenario --

You’re the person in the stall and hear someone knock. “ONE MOMENT!” “OCCUPIED!” “YEAH?!?!?”. Crisis adverted.

Koreans don’t vocalize the fact that they are in the stall. Which honestly I found relieving when I arrived because I had no idea what to say so I probably would’ve awkwardly let out some weird, loud grunt. “Me here! You wait!”

Koreans do the knock back. After you knock on the door “tok, tok”, a Korean will knock back at you if they’re in the stall “tok, tok”. I honestly found this hilarious and maybe took it as a joke at first. Some of them even knock back the same way you knocked on the door. In this case, it’s difficult to quit knocking. Just once I would like to see how far it goes. Then again, they would probably think I was some weirdo. I am.

This actually goes for any small public space you occupy, like dressing rooms.

Woooow. NEXT.

Number dul~~ “Asking” for favors indirectly.

Thiiiiiiiis one. This one grinds my gears, but only because the US has become such a straight-forward place in the past few years. I try to keep it positive and think of it as a nice brain exercise.

You need a favor? Need someone to make a call for you? Need someone to come over and help you with something? Here’s the etiquette: beat around the bush.

Example time (I’m terrible with examples, but I can try my hardest for my loyal blog readers): You’ve tried cleaning something in your apartment that you know a professional reaaaaallly should clean. After using up all the elbow grease you got in you (half a pint in my case), you realize...frick. I’m gonna need the big guys to get in here. There’s one problem: you don’t speak Korean outside of telling people your name. Great. So, it boils down to A) Praying someone speaks English at the business or B) asking someone to call for you.

Now comes the brain exercising. You see, it’s “more polite” for you to kind of hint to what you need instead of being like “HI I NEED A PROFESSIONAL CLEANER SO CAN YOU CALL, YEAH?” Instead...strike up a little convo. “Oh man, you know my *place object here* was soooo dirty. I tried my best to clean it but it just wasn’t cutting it. I wish I could just get it cleaned.” At this point someone may say something like “Oh you can get it professionally cleans for X won. I can call if you like.” 

Boom baby. Next thing you know your brain has the biceps of a god and your household item is about to be spar-ka-lay.

Although this is not always the case, as I’ve directly asked people for things before, I’ve heard numerous...nuuuuuumerous times that beating around the bush for a favor is the BEST way to go.

Moving on.

Number set~~ The abrupt hang up

You ever witness something that just makes you stop and shift your eyes back and forth while trying to make sense of what just happened? The abrupt hang up, baby. 

Say your talking to someone on the phone. It can be about anything: work, gossip, family, anything. It can be between anyone: Korean to Korean, Korean to foreigner. You will experience this in Korea.

So, your having a conversation. It’s coming to a close and in the USA this is when you stat saying your goodbyes. “Ok, well I’m gonna go. Talk to ya soon. Ok bye!”

In Korea the end of the conversation is often met with a “neeeee” (kind of like, ok, yeah) and CLICK. This one threw me for a loop the first time I actually experienced it. I thought.....what did I say wrong? After listening to some coworkers answer the phone I realized this is common. Many times I’ve heard someone “have a conversation” by just using noises “eeeehhhh. eeeeeeeh. eh. EEEEEEEH. Neeeee.” CLICK. I’ve seen a Korean mid-sentence get hung up on because the other person thought the convo was over. Alas, for them it’s a normal thing, so this person just said “oh they’re gone” and went about their business unscathed. 

I was later informed that it really is just common culture. It’s more like “ok I know the info I need so now I will hang up” 

Neato.

Number net~~Non-confrontational people

From not only what I’ve heard, but seen and experienced in Korean people are extremely non-confrontational. Actually I thought I was like this, but the Korean culture is another level compared to myself.

Say you do something that really bothers someone. Where I’m from we’d be like.. “Ted, you know, that’s kind of rude really.” or maybe even “WHATS YOUR BLEEPIN PROBLEM?” Here I’ve seen and even experienced that Koreans won’t tell you that you’ve bothered them. Instead they will remain silent and hold a grudge against you and do little things to bother you until maybe you ask them “hey did I do something???”

NEXT. Thankfully, a situation like this has never happened to me, or in front of me as I doubt I will be able to contain my beast-like, aggressive personality. ha-ha. 

Anyways. If there is some sort of dispute in public, say.... a man beating a woman, or someone screaming for help, its very common for Korean people to do nothing and walk on by. Maybe even run on by as to not get involved with anything. This really surprised me, considering I would try to put a homie in a headlock, break my tiny wrist, proceed to use my other arm, break that one too then headbutt a player. I digress. 

You may be thinking -- what the heck, man. How can you just walk on by? I’d power drive a person so fast--- no my friend. Here, if you interfere and harm the attacker in anyway it’s possible that you’ll be punished for doing so. It doesn’t matter if it’s self defensive or if you’re even in the right. We were actually told upon arrival that many times “it’s not who started the problem, it’s who ends it.”

All I can say is I really hope I don’t find myself in such a situation. I’ve watched too much Sailor Moon to just sit back and let it happen. MOON PRISOM POWEEEER.

-------

So those are 4 interesting facts/differences?/cultural things I find pretty interesting about South Korea so far. I know that  not all Koreans are like this. Ma’am, Sir.. I know. I thank you for your deep insight.

Overall, my nine months here have been wonderful to say the least. I’ve been doing a little traveling. My job is great. My students are wonderful. That being said, I’ve decided to stay another year here in South Korea. My school is allowing me to move into the city and commute to work, which is awesome. They say they’ve been pleased with my work. Really the only thing missing is my family. Miss you!!!!

Also, since I’ll be moving apartments, I’m going to do a little apartment tour of my current one. It really is a great apartment, just not the ideal location. 

Stay tuuuuuuuuuned.

Fighting!

#korea #south korea #expat #expatlife #esl #eslteacher