#I don’t usually like the double scar but it’s working this time

[sexynetra]

Live <3 Laugh <3 Wig <3

[kaminocasey]

Hey! I'm gonna take advantage of your charity and incredible talent and ask me some Silco stuff, and I will make it very personal.

Im just a sucker for angsty fluff, so I was thinking something in the lines of reader works either in some restaurant where Silco goes or actually works in the last drop. And she's just having a rough couple of days and Silco finds out about it and just wants to help (maybe he gets frustrated because of it all, and goes all Silco, you know what I mean? Damn I'm gonna shut up now). But we all know Silco is not the most affectionate man, or at least shows it in weird (?) ways. I feel like it would be better (?) if they didn't have a relationship yet. But I'll leave it to your brilliance to do as you please, I have complete trust in your skills.

But remember, you don't have to do this if you don't feel like it of course.

Anyway, to much information already. So good luck, love your work, that brain of yours and you in general ❤️💙💛🤍

PS- do not allow me to make more requests, I will make them long, weird and I'll keep remembering more stuff to add and the next thing you know it's a full blown fic 🤣

Take All Your Sins

A/N: Thank you so much for your request, love!!! I was excited to do this one!!! This is going to be a two parter or MORE for SURE. <3 ilysm thank you again for your trust in me!!!

Summary: You work in the Last Drop and very close to Vander. What happens if Silco comes along and ruins that?

Pairing: Silco x Reader

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: Angst, sweet Silco, protective Vander, alcohol

Taglist Form | Arcane Masterlist

“If you have something else to do, I can finish those.” You come into the doorway of the kitchen, nodding toward the dishes that he’s doing. 

“I got ‘em. Almost done.” The older man smiles at you.

A few years ago, Vander gave you a place to stay when he found you out on the streets and ever since then, you were basically inseparable. His kids were like your own. 

“Rough night, huh?” Vander asks as you lean in the doorway, keeping an eye on the place in case more patrons came in. 

The Last Drop is usually busy this time of night, especially on this day of the week. But it’s like a ghost town right now and you can’t seem to figure out why.

“Rough week.” You sigh, crossing your arms. 

“Do you need a couple days off?” Vander asks, genuinely.

He always made sure you were taken care of, which you appreciate, but sometimes it feels like he does too much for others, and never lets anyone do anything for him. You’re bound to change that though. His birthday is coming up and you’ve been saving up for something special that will be from you and the kids. 

“Nah, I’m-” You start but hear the door open.

“You got it?” Vander asks and you nod with a grin and turn around to greet the customer, letting the kitchen door swing shut.

“What can I get ya?” You smile at the older man, who makes you do a subtle double take.

“Whiskey. Neat, please.” He smiles. 

He’s got dark hair, a partially scarred face, one blue eye and the other dark black with an orange iris that makes him look incredibly menacing. He’s wearing an open, fancy peacoat with a buttoned vest and tie. Who the hell is this guy?

His eyes rake over you as you approach the bar where he sits. 

“Haven’t seen you before.” You smile, politely. 

“I don’t get out much.” He takes his coat off and sits it down on the stool next to him. “I… work a lot.” 

His voice is silky and you can’t help but want to hear him say more. 

“What do you do?” You ask as you pour his drink. 

“I own my own business.” He tells you and takes the drink when you slide it to him. 

The way he says it, makes you think he doesn’t want to answer anymore questions about himself. 

“What’s your name?” He asks softly. 

You tell him and he takes a sip, keeping his blue eye on you. You smile softly, unsure of what to say.

“Pretty name.” He tells you, after he finishes off his drink. 

You go to pour him another but he puts his hand over his drink and shakes his head.

“Thanks.” You put the bottle back down and then take the empty glass from him, sitting it in the sink. “What’s yours?” 

“Silco. Do you like working here?” He asks, not missing a beat. 

You nod. “Yeah, I do.” 

“And you like Vander?” 

You nod. “Who doesn’t?” 

He chuckles, glancing around subtly. “Who doesn’t, indeed?”

“What are you doing after work?” He asks. 

Oh… of course. He thinks you’re going to put out- 

“I’m not trying to fuck you.” He tells you, as if he can read your mind while he stands up and puts his coat back on.

“You’re not?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to, but that’s not why I asked.” He smirks.

You both stare at each other for a moment. His eyes fall to your lips before coming back up to your eyes.

“So… the real reason is?” You cross your arms.

“I think you’re beautiful and I’ve not been on a proper date in years.” Silco shrugs, placing a hand on the back of the barstool. 

You go warm in the face before looking down at his slender fingers and immediately can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like inside-

“I’ll be by at 11.” He tells you, snapping your thoughts back to the present as he places a few cogs onto the bar. 

“Um. Alright.” You nod, giving a kind smile. 

He stares at you for another short moment before giving you a smile back and then leaving. Just as the door closes, Vander walks out and sees you staring at the door, breaking you out of the trance that Silco seemed to have put you in.

“Everything okay?” He asks, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You look up at him, smiling a little dreamily. It’s not something you’re used to. Normally, when customers ask you out, you brush them off and pay them no mind. But Silco… he managed to get you to pay attention. 

“All good. Um… I have a date after work.” You go warm in the face at the word ‘date’. 

It’s not like you don’t date… you do… just not consistently. The last date you went on was a year ago. It didn’t go well so you decided to just focus on work.

“With the customer that just came in? Who is he?” Vander’s eyebrows raise in surprise, knowing that you haven’t gone out with someone in a long time.

“Just… some guy.” You shrug, starting to wipe down the bar. 

Vander chuckles. “Alright. Keep your secrets. I was young once, too.”

You laugh with him, your thoughts immediately going back to Silco’s unmatching eyes and the way they softened at the sight of you. 

“You can go get ready if you want. I can finish here.” Vander smirks. 

You roll your eyes. “Thanks. I owe you.” 

“Nah. Get outta here.” He nods toward the door that leads to the upstairs. 

You pat him on the shoulder as you walk past him, heading upstairs to go shower. You look at the clock and see that it reads 9:30. That should give you plenty of time to get ready. You don’t take particularly long showers. 

As you turn on the water, you climb into the shower, letting the water flow over your body as you stand there for a moment before starting to wash your body and hair. You still can’t stop thinking about the older man. He had to be about Vander’s age, right? You wonder if they know each other. Perhaps after you get to know Silco a little more, you’ll introduce them. 

After your shower, you dry your hair the best you can and then settle on a dress that you’d saved up forever to buy just because. What better excuse to wear it than on a date with an extremely attractive, slightly intimidating, man? 

At ten til 11, you make your way back down to the bar. Vander and Benzo both let out a whistle at the sight of you.

“Don’t you clean up nice?” Vander grins. 

You shrug, going warm in the face from the attention. “I guess.” 

You sit up on the bar stool next to Benzo. You glance over at the door and then back at Vander. 

“Do you want something to loosen your nerves?” Vander teases. 

“I’m alright, thanks.” You roll your eyes, amused.

“Who’s this hot date with?” Benzo nudges you with his elbow. 

You go warm in the face all over again, thinking about Silco. “Just some older guy… he’ll be here any minute.” 

They accept that answer and continue their conversation from before about business stuff that you don’t really mind yourself with. You pretty much just show up and do your job and do exactly what Vander tells you to do and then go back upstairs and sleep. And then repeat. 

The door opens moments later, and the three of you look up to find Silco walking in. You can’t help but give him a sweet smile. He smirks at you and pauses by the door.

“Are you ready-” He starts.

“Silco.” Vander growls. 

“Hello, Vander.” Silco’s eyes fall past you to the man behind you. “Lovely establishment you have here.”

You turn to Vander, confused. “You know each other?”

“Oh yes, we do.” Silco walks toward you, wrapping an arm around your lower back, looking you up and down. “You look beautiful, darling.” 

“She’s not going anywhere with you.” Vander comes around the bar and starts toward Silco but Benzo gets up quickly from the stool and stops him. 

You look between Silco and Vander, still confused.

“I think that’s for her to decide.” Silco smirks up at Vander who stands almost a foot above him.

You turn to Vander, with furrowed brows. This man is the one who gave you life again, the man who is like a father to you. The man you owe your life to. If he says you shouldn’t go… then shouldn’t you listen to him?

[desertduality]

gigs phasmo but the ghost is just confused mumbo jumbo

physically unable to write a snippet so here's a whole oneshot AKJSDKJ I hope you like it!! Personally I had a ton of fun lmao

-------

The house was nice, as far as haunted locations went. The flowers out front were dead, sure, but that was probably on account of their caretaker being dead as well.

The neighbors had been the ones to call this address in, claiming that although the owner of the property had died quite some months ago, lights frequently turned on and off in the house. The police had been by several times to check for intruders, and had come up empty every time. Finally, some desperate neighbor had given in and called paranormal investigators.

So there they were, Impulse pulling up on the curb just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Prime ghost hunting time, for some reason; Scar hadn’t really paid attention to the science and research when he’d signed up for the job. Besides, the other three had all that handled quite nicely. Scar was just along for the ride. 

“Scar, you know what you’re doing?” Impulse asked, grabbing a flashlight off the wall and clipping his walkie onto his belt. 

“Sir, yes sir!” Scar quipped, scanning the gear for his usual fare. “One paraba-dolical microphone coming up.”

“Grab a thermometer, too,” Impulse suggested, clapping him on the shoulder on his way out of the van. “Let’s try to keep this one clean! The company is running low on cursed items with resurrection abilities.”

“I know for a fact we’ve made the biggest dent in that,” Skizz’s voice crackled out of the walkie, changing to a slight echo as he presumably walked in the house.

“Why do you sound proud of that?” Grian asked, speaking into the radio as he grabbed a salt canister. Scar snickered, reaching over him to grab the thermometer. 

“We’ve got a record going, man! No one can stop us!”

“You have to admire his positivity,” Scar said brightly, clicking his flashlight to make sure it worked. 

“Yeah, I guess he’s got that going for him,” Grian replied, giving a short wave as he left the van. “See you on the inside, Scar.”

Scar gave a jaunty wave, doing one last check on his equipment before starting after him. A voice cut him off before he could leave. 

“Did anyone check the name?” Impulse asked, and Scar turned around to squint at the corkboard, eyes catching on the top. 

Huh. Interesting. 

Scar clicked the talk button on his walkie. “Looks like… Mumbo Jumbo?”

There was a long pause, and Scar almost thought they had missed it somehow. Then the response came.

“Scar,” Grian said, sounding tiredly amused. “If you can’t pronounce it, don’t just make something up.”

“No, It— It literally says Mumbo Jumbo,” Scar replied, glancing up to double check. “Don’t make me waste a photo to prove it. I will, you know I will.”

“Don’t, Scar,” Impulse jumped in, so quickly that the start of his sentence cut out. “We believe you.”

“Get in here before I come and drag you, Face,” Skizz chimed in, and Scar rolled his eyes with a chuckle, stepping out of the van. 

The house was warmer than the air outside, so Scar took that as a sign that someone had gotten to the fuse box. He wandered around with the paradabolic microphone for a few minutes, watching closely for big leaps in the readings. Eventually, Impulse called out from upstairs, claiming that he’d found the room. Scar hurried towards him, making it there just in time to watch him set up the video camera, fiddling with the tripod and muttering complaints about its stability. 

The room was a bedroom, a large bed against one wall and a shelf full of dead plants on the other. Everything was covered with a thin layer of dust, but that was pretty usual. Obviously no one had been keeping up with the cleaning.   

“Anyone done spirit box?” Grian asked, and Scar jumped and whirled around, finding him in the doorway. Grian giggled, and Scar huffed. 

“Not yet,” Impulse said, finally getting the tripod to settle. He looked over at them. “Want us to leave?”

“Not really,” Grian grumbled, starting to power up the spirit box. “But yes.”

Scar walked out of the door and Impulse followed him, closing it and leaving Grian in the room alone. Immediately, they heard the telltale singing introduction of Grian beginning to ask questions. The rest of the house was quiet. So far, everything had been entirely unremarkable.

“I’m going to go grab D.O.T.S and a book,” Impulse spoke suddenly, starting to walk away. “Maybe you could start grabbing some stuff for a polty pile?”

“Sure, will do,” Scar said, and started picking up objects from the table in the hallway. A lot of picture frames and spare wires, for whatever reason.

Grian opened the door to the room just as Scar arrived with his arms full, and Scar tilted his head at the odd look on the other’s face. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was wearing a faint frown. 

“What’s wrong?” Scar asked, curious. Normally, Grian came out of a spirit box session with wide eyes and immediately ran to the van. This was out of character.

“I think…” Grian started, contemplative frown getting more pronounced. “I think the ghost apologized to me.”

“...huh?”

“I asked where it was,” Grian said, spirit box slack in his hand. “And then it said something, and then I screamed, and then it— I could have sworn it said sorry. Like, for scaring me.”

“Oh,” Scar said, tilting his head. “Has that happened before?”

Grian shook his head slowly, staring at the spirit box for a minute before exhaling forcefully. “Let’s just keep going,” he said, shoving the device in his pocket. “We still have a job to do.” Then, into his walkie: “We’ve got spirit box, guys. One thing down.”

They kept doing their jobs like they normally would, but none of them could quite shake the sense of something being different.

Usually, the haunted locations they visited had a foreboding sort of feeling to them. They get in and out of those places as soon as possible, the feeling of imminent danger settling on their shoulders like a heavy jacket. There was none of that, here. It was obviously haunted, but it still just felt like... a house. It didn’t feel malicious at all. 

Impulse put a book down, and writing appeared a few minutes later. Just a single sentence, asking if they would water the plants on their way out.

They laid down D.O.T.S and stayed out in the van for a while, eventually seeing a tall, hazy figure pass quickly through. 

They caught ghost orbs on the video surveillance.

Impulse took the Ultraviolet flashlight and found fingerprints on the side of the video camera, like the ghost had been curious about it. 

The salt Grian had placed on the ground was smeared and scattered, almost as if the ghost had slipped on it instead of stepped in it. 

“If we discovered some new type of ghost,” Grian said eventually, muffled through his own hands covering his face, after hours of pouring over the conflicting evidence. “I am going to be upset.”

“None of this makes sense!” Impulse complained, flipping through the research journal that Scar had never touched. He was scowling at the pages like they’d personally offended him. “It won’t even hunt!”

“He seems kinda friendly,” Scar said, staring at the steady line of the EMF reader on the screen. “The poor guy just wants his plants watered. I don’t even have the heart to tell him that it probably wouldn’t help. Those things are dead dead.”

Impulse’s head thunked down on the table in front of him. “We’re so fired.”

In the silence following that statement, Skizz burst into the van, holding an object aloft in celebration.

“I found it!” Skizz yelled triumphantly, the wrinkly figure of the monkey paw clutched in his hand. “It fell behind some boxes. I told you it was here.”

“Oooh,” Scar said, rushing over in excitement. “What should we wish for?”

“A quick death?” Grian said flatly.

Scar waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve had too many of those. It gets kind of boring, believe it or not.”

“Let’s just wish to see it,” Impulse said, heaving himself up from his hunched position by the monitor. “We’ve done everything else we could do, let’s just do it.”

“Sure, why not,” Grian said, shrugging. “Let’s go out in a blaze of glory, then.”

“That’s the spirit!” Skizz laughed, and together the four of them marched back into the house.

The room was exactly as they’d left it, and Impulse took a moment to turn off the D.O.T.S. Then they stood in a loose circle, tense and determined. Whatever was happening here, it would be over soon. One way or the other. Maybe the company wouldn’t even bother to bring them back, this time. 

Skizz held the monkey paw aloft, dim light casting dramatic shadows on his face. “I wish to see the ghost!”

A finger on the monkey paw cracked and groaned as it bent down, and a chill swept across the room, quick and encompassing. Their flashlights flickered, and then died, leaving them in complete darkness. For a long moment, the only sound was their chorus of quick and shaky breathing.

When the lights turned back on, Scar was face to face with a ghost. A ghost that looked equally as startled as he was. 

Scar yelped and stumbled backwards, tripping over the open book on the ground and hurtling towards the bed. The ghost — a tall man with dark hair and an absolutely wonderful mustache — lunged forward and reached out as if to catch him, eyes wide and panicked. To be fair to the dead man, it absolutely would have worked if his hands were still a tangible thing; As it were, his attempt at grabbing Scar to keep him upright was rather rudely foiled by his outstretched hand passing right through Scar’s flailing arm.

Scar hit the bed with a grunt as various cries of alarm sounded out around him, light bouncing around the room haphazardly as the sound of clattering reached his ears; someone had dropped their flashlight, apparently. Scar laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling, dazed. 

“Oh gosh! I’m so— I didn’t mean to pop in like that, I—”

Scar looked up just in time to watch a crucifix fly through the air and pass harmlessly through the ghost’s head, hitting the wall with a thud and falling gracelessly to the floor. The ghost yelped and ducked — much too late, not that it mattered, anyway — and Scar’s gaze next landed on Grian, still standing there with his arm extended in a throwing motion, hand empty and eyes wide.

“What was that gonna do, G?!” Skizz asked hysterically, fumbling for his camera, accidentally snapping a picture of his own face and swearing when the light blinded him. 

Impulse had knocked over the tripod in all of the chaos, and was now frantically attempting to set it back upright. The ghost — Mumbo Jumbo — turned his anxious eyes on Scar, who for once was struck speechless, jaw slack. 

“Are you alright, mate?” Mumbo Jumbo asked, hands fidgeting together. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but— Well, you summoned me. There’s only so much to be done for that.”

With everyone else still scrambling about the room, Scar allowed himself a few seconds to process things. Most ghosts they’d come across — all of them, actually — had been nothing less than murderous and bloodthirsty. The cordial ghost of a perfectly normal man was not something they had been trained for, but that didn’t exactly mean that it was impossible. Sure, maybe it had come way, way out of left field, but Scar prided himself on rolling with the punches. He pushed himself up from the bed with a sheepish, charming smile. 

“It’s all good,” Scar said, bright and friendly. “For sure our fault, we summoned you and got surprised when you showed up. Kind of rude of us, I think. Your mattress is super comfortable, by the way.”

Mumbo Jumbo blinked, as if surprised by the onslaught of words, a confused little furrow appearing between his brows. “Thank you?” he said, glancing behind him at the bed. “It was…expensive.”

“I mean, hey! We spend a lot of our lifetime in a bed, right? Might as well shell out some cash for quality.”

“What are we doing?” Grian asked quickly, almost like he was talking to himself, hands pressed to his head in utter bafflement. “This is insane, what is happening.”

“Grian! Don’t be rude,” Scar admonished playfully, then turned back to grin at the ghost. “Mumbo Jumbo, right?”

The man nodded faintly. “Just…Mumbo is fine.”

“Sweet! I’m Scar,” Scar said, and then started pointing to his friends, all standing stock still in various stages of shock and confusion. “The rude one who throws stuff is Grian, that’s Impulse by the window, and over there is Skizz!”

“Nice to meet you?” Mumbo said, glancing around nervously. “I would offer to shake your hand, but…”

“God, this is weird,” Skizz blurted, eyes still wide but starting to relax his stance. “You do know you’re dead, right? We never actually get to ask any of the ghosts we meet.”

“Oh, I— Yeah, I’m well aware,” Mumbo said, laughing a little. “You’ve met other ghosts, then?”

“We’re ghost hunters,” Impulse said, and now that the shock was fading, Scar could see a spark of excitement in his eyes. “But I mean— We’ve never met any like you.”

“Mostly they want to kill us,” Grian said, stepping up next to Scar. “Are you sure you don’t want to kill us?”

“I don’t think I know how, much less want to,” Mumbo said, glancing out the window. “Did someone call you to find me? I’ve been trying not to scare anyone, but I suppose the lights might’ve done me in.”

“Yeah, that was pretty much what tipped them off,” Scar said apologetically. “A few too many weird things happen and boom, here we are.”

“What happens now?” Mumbo asked, chuckling nervously. “I mean, you found me. Job done, yeah?”

“Usually we figure out what type of ghost it is and the company sends out a specialized team to evict it,” Impulse answered, brow pinched in thought. “But normally that’s for safety reasons. You don’t seem like a threat. No offense.”

“Oh, none taken.”

“Can I ask how you died?” Skizz asked, eyes alight with curiosity. 

“Skizz,” Grian hissed. “You can’t just ask people how they died!”

“I was just wondering!”

“No, it’s— it’s fine,” Mumbo stuttered, and Scar had a feeling that if ghosts could blush, he would be doing it. “I… fell down the stairs.”

Scar nodded solemnly. “Could have happened to anyone.”

“So what are we actually going to do about this?” Grian asked, vaguely gesturing at the room. “It feels like it would be wrong to kick this guy out of his own house. He’s not really causing trouble.”

“Yeah, I— I do like my house,” Mumbo interjected, awkward smile on his face. “I’d rather stay, if that’s alright.”

“Someone’s bound to move in eventually, you know,” Skizz said, pitying frown on his face. “There’s already a for sale sign in the yard. The new owners might not be super ghost-friendly.”

Mumbo’s shoulders slumped, a dejected look on his face as he frowned at the floor. Scar felt a pang of sympathy grow in his chest, and he glanced out the window at the rows of houses down the street. 

It really was quite a nice neighborhood. 

“...You know,” Scar started, gaze drifting over to Grian, a slow smile forming on his face. “Our lease is almost up.”

Grian looked over at him, eyes already resigned, and sighed. 

Scar laughed, grinning, and Mumbo slowly smiled back.

[ncis-yp]

Soaked (Tony x Reader)

Idk wtf to call it but it popped into my head. I might write more on it later 🤷‍♀️.

Tony had an awful day at work. An awful gruesome death had crossed his eyes and the victim resembled you. He had been stressing since the afternoon, not being able to contact you due to his phone being out of order… stupid flip phone.

He worried about you. He knew you were at either college or working. Remembering that today you didn’t have to carry a double shift behind the bar at Stevie’s. He was grateful for that. The murder had scarred his mind. It then occurred to him how it could’ve been you. How anyone of these murders could’ve been you.

When Gibbs dismissed them, he sped home at felony speeds. Gotta get home to make sure (y/n)’s okay Was the only thing on his mind. As he hit 120 on the highway. His corvette weaving through the light 7 pm traffic.

You were safe at home, showering when you heard the door open. You knew Tony was home. Dinner was on the stove still warm, he usually waited till you could sit with him so you were expecting to find him sitting on the couch reading a magazine or searching for a movie in the TV.

You heard the bathroom door open.

“Hi baby how was -“ you were interrupted by Tony’s entire figure entered the shower, clothes and all. “Tony what the fuck?” You somewhat giggled as he embraced you tightly. You hugged him back. The water soaking his suit all the way down to the socks. You rubbed his back as he held you.

“Im so happy you’re alive” was all he said in that moment as you stood in the water. “I’m so happy”

“Of course, baby” you reply. “Of course”

You wondered what was going on. He was in the shower with you, which wasn’t the usual part, but he was still fully dressed. You decided that you weren’t going till press it. He would tell you when he could.

Time skip~

You were sitting at the table rambling on about your day and your classes, your college books laid out in front of you. Tony had been holding your hand from across the table, eating and listening to you, looking at you intently with love.

“Are you okay, T?” You asked. Smiling as you brushed a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I love listening to you talk” he said and smiled softly. “I love the way your eyes light up when you talk about your profession and day at work. I love listening to you ramble on and on about stuff that I have no idea how you manage to study and retain all of it. I love how driven you are and how dedicated to being a pharmacist you are.” Tony spoke, almost poetically.

“Anthony” you say. “What happened today?”

“I saw someone that looked like you in a way I’d never want to see you and it scared me. It reminded me that my job is really dark, no matter how much I love my job. I love you so much.” He replied solemnly. “I was scared today, (y/n)”

“Im right here, okay baby?” You hold his hand tightly. “It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to worry, it’s okay and it’s going to be okay. I’m alive and here in front of you. In the flesh. You have a job that’s dark and scary, but you don’t ever have to worry about losing me, okay? I know “if it happens to anyone it can happen to you”, but here’s a secret” you say .

“Whats the secret?” He smirks gently.

“Im Anthony DiNozzos girlfriend you whisper in his ear. “Nothing can hurt me as long as Im with you” he smiles.

“Guess I gotta keep you forever” he kisses you.

“Yeah, forevaaass” you say dramatically before you kiss him back. You smiled at each other as you saw peace settle in his face. Relief falling in his eyes.

“I love you so much” he hugs you.

“I love you so much more than that”

[iliketangerines]

Ok so my friend sent in a request where it’s reader but they’re like winter soldier from marvel- and the other day she was talking to me about it and I got to thinking about it.

So like what if the male reader ((who is of course like Bucky)) is taller than the boys but is a switch leaning more to bottom. Like I imagine reader is being careless when fighting and is like “I don’t care what happens to me!” And it angers the boys into like intense praise sex

we care about you

a/n: i'm gonna be honest...i have no idea which request you're referencing. it's been a really long time

pairing: johnny cage x amab!reader x kenshi takahashi

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), blowjobs, double penetration, overstimulation, praise kink

you walk stiffly as Johnny and Kenshi drag you to the infirmary to get your wounds bandaged up, and Raiden and Kung Lao stay behind to debrief with Liu Kang

Kenshi’s grip on your hand is almost painful, and Johnny pushes you from behind to discourage you from just disappearing to your room and taking care of your own wounds

you feel uncomfortable as you stand in front of the infirmary, and Johnny basically pushes you in while Kenshi gathers the necessary materials to bandage you up

Johnny raises an eyebrow at you, looking uncharacteristically serious, and you scowl and pull off your ripped uniform, blood-soaked and dirty

the actor sucks in a breath as his eyes travel over your chest and your stomach, grimacing at the sight of blood staining every bit of your skin and deep cuts sliced into your muscle

your skin is also mottled with dark bruises, and you’re sure you’ve cracked a rib, but you don’t mention it as Johnny assesses the damage and tells Kenshi what he sees

the blood hides your scars for them, but you know they see them as Johnny wipes at your skin with a clean wet cloth to get rid of the dirty and dried-up blood

it’s the first time you’ve ever gone shirtless in front of them, and you usually wouldn’t have even entertained their request to see you shirtless

but you’re tired and exhausted and wouldn’t stand a chance against the two of them pinning you down and treating your wounds

and so Johnny just grits his teeth, letting out an angry puffs of air from his nose, and Kenshi can’t see the scars but as always he knows that something is wrong

you try to make a joke and say that most of the blood isn’t yours, but both Kenshi and Johnny send you a stern look before Kenshi hands over the materials to Johnny

they work in tandem, Kenshi telling Johnny how to apply the medicine and bandages, unable to with his limited vision from Sento, and Johnny follows every order exactly

when you lift your hand to help, Kenshi slaps it down and tells you to stay still for them both, and you growl but listen to him as Johnny finishes up your bandages

almost immediately you go to stand up, but Johnny and Kenshi push you right back down and tell you to sit the fuck down and take a break

Johnny keeps a careful watch of you, making sure you don’t even move an inch or even breathe the wrong way, while Kenshi disappears to go and make some tea

you shift in the cot, trying to get more comfortable, but you wince as your cracked rib aches and place a hand over the bruise

immediately, the actor is all over you, asking if you were okay, what hurt, what was wrong, and you try to wave him off and say that it’s nothing

he gives you a disapproving glare and asks you again in an angered voice what was wrong

you roll your eyes, mouth in a grimace and lips tightly sealed, but then the pain flares up and you can’t help it as a small groan leaves your lips

Johnny takes a note of your hand over your ribs and asks if they’re broken, and you turn your head to the side and let out a tsking sound

there’s another sound of anger that crawls out of his throat, and you know that he wants to snap at you, ask you why you had put yourself in direct danger

but then, he doesn’t and stays silent, and Kenshi returns with a steaming cup of tea and nearly shoves it into your hands as he tells you to drink every last drop

it smells bitter, disgusting, and you wrinkle your nose and glare at the swordsman

his glare is just as intense behind the blindfold as he crosses his thick arms and waits for you to drink it, sword still by his side

you bring the drink up to your mouth and close your eyes, ignoring the smell, and down it all in one gulp, putting the cup on the table next to the cot you sit on

for a second, neither of them say anything, just giving each other looks, and you figure that they’re talking telepathically again

you growl out that you’re right there, that you know they’re talking about you, and on cue, the both of them turn their heads to you, brows furrowed and frowns etched into their face

you return their grimace, baring your teeth at him like a cornered animal, and Kenshi sighs and shifts on his feet before saying that you’re on strict bed rest for at least a month

a month? what? that wouldn’t fly, you had to train, to get better, to fight and claw and beg for your survival, you would not rest for a whole month

you open your mouth to protest, but Johnny adds on that there will be no argument, that Liu Kang had already agreed and someone will be watching you at all times to make sure you stick to resting

there’s anger bristling inside of you, sharp and prickly, and you let out a hissing sound as you clench your fists and glare at them both

and then Johnny snaps at you and says that you wouldn’t have to be on bed rest if you had just been more careful on the battlefield

you argue back that being careful would’ve meant that the mission would take longer, and you managed to shorten the mission time by a whole week because of your actions

Kenshi cuts in saying that that wasn’t the point, that you deliberately put yourself in danger knowing you would be hurt and possibly killed and that action wasn’t okay

you mutter out what was the point, you always came back so why did it matter if you put yourself in danger, and Kenshi and Johnny give each other a look before turning their attention back to you

Johnny says that you shouldn’t have to put yourself in direct danger without caring about what would happen to you, that you can’t just do that, you have to worry about your own health

Kenshi adds on, saying that he knows what it’s like to not care about hurting yourself during a mission, but that there’s people out there who care about you and putting yourself in danger and possibly killing yourself would hurt them as well

his comment makes you bite your tongue, your retort dying in your mouth and making it feel dry as it clicks in your brain that someone could possibly care about you

and not just as a weapon

Johnny sits down on the cot and grabs onto your hand, squeezing it gently, and he says that they both care about you and that you jumping directly into enemy territory had scared the living daylights out of them

he continues, saying that they know something happened to you in the past, but that they want you to know that they care about you as a person, as a friend, as a lover

you turn your head, pursing your lips to stop them from trembling, and you mutter out an okay

it makes Johnny beam, and Kenshi sigh in relief before patting Johnny’s back and saying that they should leave you to rest and heal

he repeats one more time to not do anything strenuous and call them for help if you need anything, and you nod before they disappear to debrief with Liu Kang

the room is silent as you cry, falling from your cheeks onto your bandaged wounds, but your heart is warm and you fall asleep quickly, knowing you were loved

the both of them watch you carefully for the next month, making sure you weren’t doing anything too strenuous or stressful, and that your body was healing properly

you haven’t felt this well-rested and cared for in…well, forever, and you truly appreciate their efforts as they dote on you

your wounds heal faster than they have ever before, and a month passes by quickly as you focus on yourself and some old hobbies from a different life

you sit in your room, reading a book with an empty cup next to you when your door slides open and reveals Kenshi and Johnny laughing together

they glance over to you, and Johnny goes over first, tilting your head up and kissing you deeply, his hand snaking up to cradle the back of your head and pull you into him

you sigh into the kiss, closing your eyes and enjoying the taste of something minty on his breath, and Johnny pulls away when you feel your lungs burn with the need to breathe

he’s gentle with you, sitting down in your lap and telling you all about his day with the usual dramatic flair, and you rest your hands on his hips, squeezing them

Kenshi undresses himself, placing his shoes down neatly by the door and stripping off his jacket to reveal his body covered in a slight sheen of sweat

the swordsman hums and nods in agreement to whatever Johnny is saying, and Johnny strips himself down as well, throwing his jacket to the floor as he also tries to cool down from the hot day

you only have on a pair of boxers and tshirt, but by the time they’re done stripping down to their bare skin, you feel more naked than them

Johnny’s words finally ebb as he rests his hands on your shoulders, and he smiles down at you and asks how your day was

you start, repeating the actions of your rather mundane but relaxing day, but then you let out a choked sound as Johnny grinds down on your cock

he smirks down at you, telling you to continue, and there’s a pause before you stutter along, trying to keep your cool as he continues to grind down on you

by the end, your sentences barely make any sense, and your fingers are gripping onto his hips desperately as your own buck into his as you search for more friction

he leans in close to you, breath warming your ear as he says that they’ve both missed you, missed hearing your needy whines for them to fuck you

then he pulls away and sighs, watching your chest heave up and down and how your eyes glaze over in need as you stifle a whimper

Johnny just gets up off of you, and your lap suddenly feels a lot colder without his warmth on you

but he pulls on your hand and tugs you to your shaky legs, and then Johnny pushes you to sit in between Kenshi’s spread legs

you do so readily and let out a breath of air as you feel Kenshi’s hard cock press into your back, hot and heavy with need

Johnny settles down between your legs on his knees, and he pulls off your boxers, letting your cock spring free and bob in the air

Kenshi hums and kisses the side of your neck, using his hands to hook your legs over his knees so that you can’t escape Johnny’s attention on you

Johnny wraps his hand around your cock, pumping it torturously slow, and he says quietly that neither him nor Kenshi could forget what you said a month ago

you stutter out a what, mind too heavy and fuzzy to recall what you had said a month ago, and Johnny smiles at your reaction, licking a strip from the base of your cock to the tip and listening to your slight whimper

he places his lips over the tip and presses his tongue into the slit just lightly, making you gasp and buck your hips uselessly at the pleasure

Kenshi continues his sentence, saying that they want to show you how much they care about you, how much they want you and need you to be safe

the memory finally fades back in as you remember how you basically said it didn’t matter if you got hurt, and you just let out a small confused what, unable to respond properly when Johnny’s plush lips are pressed into your cock

Kenshi hums, his stubble slightly scratching you as he kisses your neck, and he tells you to relax and let them take care of you for today, to just sit still and be pretty

you nod and then let out a little whine when Johnny takes you deeper into his throat, tongue pressing against the underside of your cock

it’s hot and wet, and you can’t help it as your hands fly down to grip onto Johnny’s hair and tug on it, sensitive from not having touched yourself for a month

Kenshi feels you move and his hands travel from your thighs up your side, making you shiver, and his rough hands grab onto your arms and take them away from Johnny’s hair

his voice is teasing as he asks you about what he just said a second ago, and you try to respond but then Johnny sinks even further, his nose burying themselves in the curls at the base

your brain is nothing more than mush as Johnny bobs his head up and down, the tip of your cock hitting the back of his throat, and there’s a strangled sound that comes out of your throat as his hand comes up to massage your balls

Kenshi licks and bites at the skin of your neck, leaving his marks on you, and you turn your head to him, lips parted in a silent question for him

he seems to know what you want, and he presses his lips to yours, humming at the taste of your mouth and pushing his tongue into yours

you can’t help but groan into his mouth as Johnny hums around your cock, sending vibrations through your body and fraying your nerves with pleasure

your hips rock forward slightly, and you want to cum so badly, need to cum

Johnny seems to know what you want, your cock twitching in his mouth, and he bobs his head up and down faster, using his hand to pump at what his mouth doesn’t cover

it’s too much, and your back arches of Kenshi’s stomach as you cum in Johnny’s warm mouth, whimpering and gasping against the swordsman’s mouth

Kenshi hums, hands rubbing your thighs, as Johnny pumps you through the rest of your orgasm and swallows your cum

you soften in his mouth and whimper when he finally pops off and licks his lips, saying that you taste just as good as he remembers

parting from your lip to let you breathe and head fall back onto his shoulder, he tells you you’re doing amazing, so good for them, so pretty for them

a soft thank you comes from your mouth, and Kenshi just chuckles and mumbles out an of course before he moves you slightly to scoot your body forward

Johnny stands up from his position, and you can see the way his cock slaps against his stomach, your mouth drools and you reach your hand forward

Kenshi tsks at you and uses his hand to splay over your chest and pull you back, saying perhaps another day

you whimper but listen and just sit in Kenshi’s lap and wait as you hear Johnny get lube out of your drawer and get back in front of you

Johnny squirts lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together to slightly warm it, before he reaches his fingers underneath you and traces his finger over your asshole

you try not to squirm and seem impatient, and Johnny rewards you for your patience, pressing in a thick finger and telling you good job

 you let out a pant and then a whimper of please for more, and Kenshi just smiles against your skin as he sucks another hickey into your skin

Johnny hums and presses another finger into you, pumping them in and out of you slowly and curling them right into your prostate with practiced fingers

it makes you squirm and gasp, and you can feel blood rushing down, filling your oversensitive cock back to hardness, although not quite as big as before

the swordsman chuckles at your whines, one of his hands trailing up and down your body, squeezing at the flesh before wrapping his hand around your half-hard cock

it makes pleasure shoot through your body, and a loud gasp leave your throat as your hips buck into him

Johnny just pushes his fingers in deeper as a response, adding a third finger to stretch you out further, and you let out a debauched moan, nerves being pulled in every direction

it’s overwhelming, and you’re already so close to the edge, legs twitching in overstimulation and hands gripping whenever you can

Kenshi seems to know and fists the base of your cock, preventing you from cumming and you make a sound that sounds like a choked sob and whimper

he tells you to have patience, and Johnny says that you won’t have to wait long as he retracts his fingers from your needy hole

you yelp as Kenshi suddenly hooks his hands underneath your thighs and stands up with you spread in his arms

Johnny brings an arm underneath one of your thighs to help support you, and your hands fly to Johnny’s shoulders in front of you for balance

Kenshi slightly lowers you, and you feel Johnny line himself up with you, lowering you even further to push into you

it makes you whine and gasp in pleasure as he finally bottoms out, and you dig your fingers into his shoulder as you struggle to adjust

your breathing calms down after a minute, and you squeeze around him, trying to keep your cool

but then you feel Kenshi prodding along your hole, the tip of his cock pressing in, and you whine that it’s too much, you can’t

Kenshi murmurs that you can, and he pushes in slow and steady, making you sob and gasp and tears well up in your eyes

fat tears roll down your face but Johnny kisses them away as Kenshi groans and bottoms out inside of you

neither of them move until you’ve stopped sobbing and have only been reduced to soft sniffles and whimper, and then Johnny finally moves his hips a little bit

you let out a whimper and moan, and they both take it as a good sign to start moving in tandem, knocking the breath out of you

the pleasure is all-consuming and mixes with the stinging pain, and you can’t help the wanton moans that leave your mouth as they fuck you on their cocks

they praise you as they bounce you up and down, calling you so pretty, that you’re so beautiful, that you’re doing so well, and that they love you so much

their mouth are relentless as they kiss and suck at your skin everywhere, mouthing over every scar that you have, and it’s all too much as you cum, pathetic spurts of cum spraying over Johnny’s chest

they groan at the feeling of you clenching down on him, and Kenshi cums first inside of you, hot ropes of his seed warming you, his voice deep and rough as he tells you that you’re taking them so well

Johnny quickly follows soon after and cums inside of you as well, panting into your neck and moaning your name loudly

neither of them move for a moment, their cocks still buried deep inside of you, but Johnny is the first one to move and slide out

Kenshi slides out after Johnny, and they move to lay your boneless body on the bed, praising you and telling you did so amazing

your ears are buzzing, mind still heavy with pleasure, and you just reach out for them, hand grabbing onto Kenshi’s

he hums and gets into bed with you, cuddling you close, and you whimper for Johnny as well

Johnny listens and gets into bed with you, telling you take a quick nap first then and then they’ll get you cleaned up

you just hum in contentment and drift off to sleep with the two of them holding you close and dearly

[theshypinkflower]

Frothing from the mouth over your derek headcanons If you have any abt him youve been wanting to share I would LOVE to hear them

- In highschool Derek got his ears pierced (simple diamond studs to make himself look cool and Sal ripped one of the stud out of his ear because it “made him look like a fag.” Derek’s left ear lobe now has a little scar.

- Derek bullies mentally ill girls on twt, either because he thinks they’re cringe or because he wants to be a dick. He loves mentally ill girls cause they’re so easy to manipulate and force to send him nudes and SH pics (because of course Derek wants to see that).

- Sal made Derek do football in highschool. Needless to say, Derek was a bench warmer while Matt was the star player. Didn’t matter cause Derek still got to put a football patch on his letterman.

- Derek is TERRIBLE with animals. They don’t really like him. The only animal who actually liked him was a puma Sal adopted for awhile.

- His favorite food is sushi, sadly he ruins any quality expensive sushi by dousing it in soy sauce. His spice tolerance is shit btw, so he doesn’t even touch the wasabi. In general he really likes seafood, which is a stark contrast to Sal and Matt who are meat and potatoes kinds guys.

- Every Fourth of July, Derek goes to some “red neck” (literally just a more rural city) and buys so many fireworks for cheap. He doesn’t care if some are duds or dangerous, most of them are gonna go up and make a show. He’ll grab a paper towel roll and fill it with a bunch of smaller fireworks and light it on the dock of the lake house his family goes to during holidays. It makes a huge explosion and scares the crap of everyone.

- Derek only has one band he really likes and its MSI. He saw a bunch of "edgy" people online reposting their songs and he likes em! Everything else in his liked playlist is shit other people listen to. Likes his friend's rap favorites or his dad's 80s favorites. It's one of those bands he listens to whenever hes alone.

- Derek once dressed like an e-boy to garner some attention from girls. Needless to say it worked.

- Every couple of weeks he gets a touch up on his hair. Bleaches the roots, toner, trim, the works. He has an amazing barber who helped Derek fix his hair when he once tried using box dye bleach. It was a nightmare.

- When some of his younger siblings were born he tried giving them away. Like he put Matt in a box and sloppily wrote “FREE BABY” in big letters. It wasn’t until a neighbor knocked on the door with Matt in hands that Sal realized his baby was missing. Needless to say Derek got an ass whopping.

- Derek loves the water! I imagine he’s a really good swimmer (he learned to swim by getting thrown in the pool by Sal).

- Derek sucks at golf, but is decent at tennis. Although the hates doing doubles since Matt and Sal always get onto him for his serves. He use to play tennis a lot with his younger sister, Rochelle, but now all she does is tan by the pool whenever they go to the country club.

- Derek has been in a car accident. He was drunk driving and crashed into someone else. He was arrested for it and Sal had to bail him out. Again, Derek was beaten severely for this. Along with other crimes such as: shoplifting, vandalism, destruction of public property, disorderly conduct, and public nudity (he snuck out to go skinny dipping with friends).

- Derek is a reckless driver whenever his dad or Matt isn’t in the car with him. Like he has at least five speeding tickets in his glovebox. (How does this man even have a driver’s license)

- He absolutely hates weddings. Mostly cause of how many he’s had to sit through thanks to his dad. The only good thing about a wedding is the bar they usually have. Unless they don’t, then he’ll opt for being a menace and catching the bouqet during the bouqet toss (who the hell would marry Derek).

- For the longest time Derek said his favorite cocktail was an Old Fashioned (cause thats what rich people drink I guess) yet he never actually had one. It wasn’t until he ordered on while out clubbing and had to try so hard to keep a straight face. He will never talk about how he chugged down his friend’s fruit and sweet sangria cocktail (because he’s MAN HE SHOULNDT NEED FRUITY SISSY SHIT RAAAAAAH).

[acupofinkedblood]

Hyperlaser x reader [NSFW]

TW: NSFW headcanons

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

• One thing for sure is that Hyperlaser will definitely not be a bottom. The idea makes him shrug his shoulders in disagreement since it doesn’t sit right with him, he prefers to be a top more. There is no way in Inpherno he will be a bottom, his nature doesn’t take that well. The sub and dom dynamic doesn’t really apply to him, as he is pretty much neither

• He is surprised that you will want to have sex with him in the first place. Like, look at him? It’s a miracle that he doesn’t scare you off already, let alone you want something that intimate with him. Let’s just say that he isn’t inexperienced. He definitely had his moment here and there while he still had his friends around before shit went wild in that incident. But with you, thing is a tad bit different

• I’m not going to sugarcoat this on you because he is such a complicated man. His sex drive is rather low, mainly because he is too occupied. He has plenty of works waiting to be dealt with, plenty of targets to bid a farewell to hell for. And it’s not that easy to get him in the right mood either. It makes him feel vulnerable, and he isn’t going to let down his wall that easy after building it for years

• Have some patience with him. It already takes a while for him to trust you. Having you become his partner is definitely quite the unexpected, because Hyperlaser doesn’t expect himself to open up again. Well, it’s your fault to be so stubborn after all. But hey, let him process the whole thing first. It feels foreign to him after all those years of isolating himself away from trivial matters

• Sex with him is usually rather, — how should one put this — steady? He doesn’t mind if you want to do it of course, he doesn’t oppose the idea once he has grown to be used to your presence as his partner. Hyperlaser has always looked so reserved in everything, aside from certain times he relaxes, and he wants you to know that he cares for you. And so, your wish is his command

• One note, he is aware of how he looks, no need to remind him. To say he is insecure is probably the accurate statement. Like I said, he is dumbfounded by the fact you even want to be with him after knowing how he looks. One of the reasons why he is worried at first is literally because of his scars and all. When you reassure him that it doesn’t matter to you, he finally spares himself the stress a bit

• He is actually pretty curious. It’s his nature to be so. Sometimes he might be a bit confused when you introduce new things to him because he has been vanilla more than you even know, so mind you. If the thing you suggest is not something that he doesn’t really want to indulge in or involve hurting you in any ways, who knows, maybe he will give it a shot with you to see if it works

• Questions are definitely a thing of his. It’s mostly directed towards you, whether you are comfortable or do you want him to do something, and so on. He wants to make sure that you are fine with this. Double checking the situation is something he doesn’t really want without knowing sometimes, and you know what they say, old habit dies hard

• He isn’t too rough on you, but just the enough amount that he knows you can handle. It’s usually slow, because he doesn’t want to rush things with you. It’s an intimate moment between him and you after all. Don’t just take him for a walking stone with shallow emotions, he just doesn’t show it that much. He knows he is fine when he is around you

• A reminder is that he doesn’t believe in mental health. So when he checks up on you, he’s more focused on the physical state of yours. You have to tell him what is on your mind and how you feel after each session. Although he doesn’t really understand it, he will keep it in mind. Your well-being is his priority, so don’t mind voicing your issues aloud

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

[aceofstars16]

Next chapter! Getting sick meant I was slower editing than I thought I'd be but hey, I got it done today!

Chapter 5: Rescue Mission Mabel, Ford, and Stan come up with a plan to rescue Dipper.

A chill ran through Mabel’s spine as she carefully walked through the lessening crowd. One upside to having to use a crutch to walk was that some of the creatures moved out of her way. Which would be beneficial to the plan. A plan which her, Ford, and Stan had come up with only a few hours ago. The time waiting had been filled with eating some food that they found in the storage room, and resting. Mabel was still weak, and her leg definitely wasn’t recovered all the way, but she could walk, with support.

Taking a breath, Mabel looked around, trying not to find Stan and Ford watching her, but instead looking for bounty hunters. Granted, she didn’t really know what they looked like – the one time her and Ford had run into one, Ford had disposed of it before she could get a good look – but she knew they would look mean. After all, they were bounty hunters.

“Are you lost?”

Mabel stumbled back at the voice, but quickly found the source. A creature with a humped back and glowing eyes. Its skin was rough, but it gave her a smile – one filled with sharp teeth, but it seemed genuine.

“Uh…no…I’m just uh…meeting someone.” It was a lie and she was pretty sure it sounded like one, but she needed to keep moving. Bounty hunters usually didn’t catch their prey when they were talking to someone else, or at least, that’s what she assumed.

“Oh? Where are you meeting them? I can help.” The creature was still grinning at her.

“That’s okay, thanks for the offer though.” Mabel tried to move past them, but a clawed hand landed on her shoulder.

“I insist. After all, these streets aren’t safe after dark.”

A shudder passed through Mabel as she remembered the dragon. It’s grotesque teeth and haunting eyes. She doubted she would ever forget the sight, especially since her leg was bound to have a few scars from those horrible teeth.

The alien nodded, giving her what she assumed was a sympathetic look. “Come, I will take you to a safe place.”

“No, really. I-I’m good.” Mabel swallowed and tried to pull herself out of the alien’s grip. This wasn’t part of the plan. But even as she tried to stumble away, the creature held fast, its grip tightening. Panic overwhelmed her as she tried pulling away and caught a glimpse of the alien’s eyes again. They no longer looked friendly.

“Let go!” Mabel cried, doubling her efforts to break free, but the creature just laughed.

“Don’t worry. I am taking you to a friend.”

Then the creature gripped her other shoulder and her body froze. The world slowly faded away until everything went black as unconsciousness overtook her.

-----

When an alien rested a claw on Mabel’s shoulder, Ford felt himself tense up. Every instinct told him to rush in and pull her away from it. His job was to protect Mabel, not let her wander the streets alone. But they had come up with a plan, and if he raced to her aid, it could ruin all of it.

“Let her go.” He mumbled under his breath as he watched.

“Is that one of them?”

Ford looked down to see Stan watching as well, a frown on his face.

“I don’t think so. I don’t recognize it.” Even as he spoke, Ford knew that not all bounty hunters looked the same. Some definitely looked the part, but others looked like any other creature in the multiverse.

“Let go!”

Mabel’s voice carried through the streets and Ford found his hand landing on his gun. Whoever this creature was, it was hurting Mabel, and that was unacceptable. They would have to come up with a new plan and-

“It’s taking her!” Stan cried out, though thankfully he kept his voice low.

Gritting his teeth, Ford pulled out his gun with one hand and grabbed Stan’s hand with the other before moving forward, tailing the creature who had grabbed Mabel. “Let’s go.”

“What about the plan?” Stan asked, even as he followed Ford.

“We’ll come up with a new one.” Ford hissed as he ducked behind a crate. A moment later, he started moving again. The emptying streets were part of the plan, but it did make tailing someone a little harder. Then again, it meant it was easier to keep track of who he was following.

The creature cut down alleyways and across streets, running on all fours now that Mabel was unable to put up a fight. Ford vaguely recognized it as a resident of dimension B4r8, though it had been a while since he’d been there. They were fast, but thankfully Stan didn’t seem to have trouble keeping up with Ford as he followed.

Suddenly, the creature stopped in front of a cellar door and banged on it. The door flung open and a different creature poked its head out. Ford heard Stan suck in a breath and he squeezed Ford’s hand.

“That’s what took Dipper.”

Relief and worry simultaneously sparked in Ford’s chest. The plan hadn’t failed, they knew where Dipper was now. But he hated that Mabel had to be the bait. It had been the most logical solution, as she couldn’t move quickly enough to play any other part, but it still screamed against every protective instinct in Ford’s body.

Taking a breath, Ford tried to still his nerves before crouching down in front of Stan.

“You remember the plan?”

“Yup!”

Stan held up the strange looking device, a mix between tweezers, a toothpick, and a small computer screen – a lockpicking device that Ford had invented himself. It didn’t work on every lock, but with some luck, it would do its job today. 

Ford nodded. “Good…” For a moment, he hesitated. Letting Mabel go out alone had been hard enough. Leaving Stan as well screamed against every fiber of his being.

“I got it Poindexter, don’t worry!” Stan gave Ford a grin, and the smallest hint of relief hit Ford at the gesture. He was sure there were still things to be talked about, but for now…Stan seemed to trust him, so he had to trust Stan.

Taking a breath, Ford nodded and stood up, only to stop and dig his hand into his coat. He felt for the small gun that he regularly carried and pulled it out, handing it to Stan. It hadn’t been part of the plan but he’d feel better knowing Stan had some way to defend himself besides his fists.

Stan’s eyes widened as he grabbed the gun.

“It only stuns. Unless you change the strength.” Ford pointed to a dial under the trigger. “But you shouldn’t have to use it, it’s just…”

“Insurance.” Stan said, taking the word right out of Ford’s mouth.

A small smile grew on Ford’s mouth. “Right.”

“Cool.” Stan said, then shoved Ford a little. “Now get going!”

Ford barely held back a chuckle as he moved forward. Stan certainly didn’t seem annoyed with him right now. But then again, Stan had never been good about showing his real emotions to most people. Granted, Ford had been the exception when they were kids but…he’d take what he could get.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Ford focused on what he needed to do.

The cellar door had already been closed, so Ford walked up and banged on it, as loud as he could.

“Hey, slime balls! Heard you were looking for me?”

As soon as he yelled it, Ford took a few quick steps away from the door, and when he heard the bolts unlocking, he turned on his heels and ran.

-----

“What’ve you got there?”

Dipper perked up as he heard voices outside of his cell. They had been fairly quiet for the past few hours. He’d guessed that at least one of the hunters had left, but the occasional noise from outside assured him that there was at least one keeping watch. Not that he had the tools to get out if he wanted too. Not only were his hands chained to the wall, but all of his supplies had been taken away.

“Found this little twig wandering around all alone.”

Despite not seeing his captors, Dipper could imagine a cruel smile on the face of the one who spoke.

“Good. Two down, two to go.”

Dread grew in Dipper’s stomach at the words. That meant they’d captured another member of his family, and a second later his suspicions were confirmed when the door opened.

“Brought you some company.” A bounty hunter that Dipper didn’t know grinned at him and tossed a small bundle into the room before closing it.

“Mabel?” Dipper tried his best to keep the horror out of his voice, but he didn’t think he was doing a good job. How had they managed to catch Mabel and not the others? From everything he’d seen, Ford had seemed just as protective of her as Dipper was of Stan.

When there was no response, Dipper’s anxiety spiked and he carefully poked her with his foot – the only part of him that could reach her. Please be okay, please be okay. He begged silently as he nudged her again.

For a few horrible seconds, there was no response, then a slight groan.

Letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, Dipper forced himself to take a deep breath before speaking.

“Mabel, are you okay?”

Another groan, then Mabel slowly lifted her head, squinting despite the already dim light of the cell.

“Dipper?” She mumbled as she rubbed her eyes with her hands – apparently the hunters didn’t care about her being chained to the wall. Then again, she looked quite pale and weak, she had to still be recovering from the dragon attack – Dipper’s own arm was still aching. But that still begged the question…

“What are you doing here?” The words slipped out, and Dipper couldn’t hide the confusion and worry in his tone.

Mabel blinked a few times and shook her head. “I’m rescuing you.”

“What???”

“Well…” Mabel tilted her head and winced a little. “Technically I’m not but…well...it’s all part of the plan.”

“Plan?” Dipper asked, glancing at the door, wishing he knew if the bounty hunters were outside listening in.

“Yeah, Ford is going to-”

A banging interrupted her. Dipper could vaguely make out a voice that must’ve come from outside the building, but he couldn’t tell what it was saying.

“It’s him!”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“You two go, I’m staying put.”

“Lazy son of a-”

The last word was more of a hiss – an alien language that Dipper’s ear translator didn’t recognize, and probably a word that wasn’t appropriate for Mabel.

“Get going!”

There was a squeaking of hinges and another banging sound, then the talking stopped.

“All part of the plan.”

Dipper looked over to see Mabel grinning at him.

“Right…Mind filling me in?”

-----

The sun was slowly setting as Stan watched Ford bang on the door and run off into the town. Two bounty hunters raced after him, the one with the barbed tail that had taken Dipper, and the ‘friendly’ looking one who had grabbed Mabel and didn’t look very friendly now. That should mean that the building was empty. That was the plan after all. Carefully putting the lock pick in his pocket, Stan looked at the gun that Ford had given him and considered doing the same with it. But this was the multiverse. If he’d learned anything about it, it was that things could always go wrong, so he clutched the gun as he walked onward.

By now, pretty much all the aliens were inside their homes, so Stan didn’t have to dodge anyone as he carefully made his way to the cellar doors. A distant roar reminded Stan why no one was out and about. A shudder ran through him, but he shoved away any fear. The dragon wasn’t anywhere close and he had a job to do.

Taking a deep breath, Stan pulled on the cellar door. It was a lot heavier than he had been expecting, but it wasn’t too heavy for him. At least that’s what he told himself as he strained to open it.

The door swung back and hit the wall with a bang. Stan winced, but quickly darted inside. Only Mabel and Dipper were inside, there wasn’t any reason to be afraid, but he still found himself gripping the gun tighter.

The interior of the building was dark, but had a few lights to show a hallway, which lead to a larger room in the middle. There were a few doors leading to other rooms and halls, but there was only one door that was closed.

“Bingo.” Stan muttered to himself as he made his way to the door, glancing around as he did so. He didn’t see anything, so he put the gun in his coat and pulled out the lock pick.

“Mabel? Dipper?” He called out, hoping they could hear him through the door.

“Stan! We’re in here!”

A grin grew on Stan’s face as he started fiddling with the door, looking at the lock. It was a keypad, but Ford’s device should be able to handle that. He just had to-

“What do we have here?”

Stan froze as a voice spoke behind him and he spun around.

The bounty hunter in front of him was different than the other two, with a long-pointed nose and small eyes. It was hunched over, its claws making a shovel shape – if it was an animal, it probably would’ve been the burrowing kind.

Stan lifted up his hand up only to realize that he was holding the wrong thing. He scrambled to grab the gun out of his pocket, but was slammed against the door before he could reach it.

“Would you look at that? The last of you nasties decided to walk right in, offering yourself as a present.” The alien sniffed him, a smile growing on its long face.

Growling at the creature, Stan found that he couldn’t move his arms. But his feet on the other hand… Kicking as hard as he could, he managed to hit the hunter right on its snout, which resulted in it letting out a pained hiss and dropping Stan.

Bolting forward, Stan ran as fast as he could, his feet moving faster than he could think. But something in the back of his mind had the sense to pull the gun out from his jacket.

A claw grabbed his foot and he collapsed to the ground, flipping over to see the hunter clutching his pant leg.

Hefting up the gun, Stan quickly fired.

The blast hit the creature, but it only hissed in frustration. Stan tried kicking at it again, even as he fiddled with the gun, trying to remember what Ford had said about making the stun stronger. His fingers found a dial and he twisted it at the same time the hunter jumped.

Lifting the gun, Stan closed his eyes and fired.

A scream echoed through the room and a second later, something heavy landed on top of Stan. For a moment he thought that the creature had won. Bracing himself, Stan kicked up with his legs, wanting to get the thing off of him. But as he did so, he wasn’t met with any teeth or claws as he expected. Instead, the body of the creature rolled off of him – dead, smoke rising from where the gun had hit it.

Swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat at the sight of a dead alien – one that he had killed – Stan quickly made his way back to the cell door.

“Stan!?!”

Stan heard Dipper’s muffled voice through the door, and he wondered if his grunkle had been calling out to him during the entire fight.

“I-I’m okay!” Stan managed to call out, though his arms were still shaking.

Looking at the lock again, Stan realized that he didn’t have the lock pick in his hand anymore. He glanced at the dead bounty hunter and grimaced. It must have fallen out of his hand when he was grabbing the gun. Then his eyes caught sight of something else. A card of some sort attached to the bounty hunter’s pants.

Making a face, Stan quickly ran over and unclipped the card, backing away from the dead alien as fast as he could and making his way back to the door. Taking a breath, Stan held up the card to the screen. For one second, nothing happened. Then it flashed green and Stan quickly pulled on the door. It swung open with ease and a moment later he was met with the sight of Mabel and Dipper looking at the door with wide eyes.

Stan put on his best grin, doing a pretty good job of shoving aside any residual fear as he stepped into the cell.

“All according to plan.”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Neighbor Wars: Less Than Safe

Tomura Shigaraki 🎮✋🏻 vs Dabi 🪡🔥

🎮✋🏻🪡🔥You knew your neighborhood wasn’t the safest  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥If the hole-y walls and cheap rent weren’t enough to prove that  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥The raucous sounds of criminal activities would do the trick 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥And while this wasn’t the neighborhood to confront your neighbors for anything  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥You seemed to have an odd tendency for this to happen 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Hey gorgeous you come here often?” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“I live here…obviously.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Doubt it. There’s no way a goody-two-shoes actually lives here.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Oh? Then it wasn’t this goody-two-shoes' wall you shot 4 stray bullets into?” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥You’re lackadaisical neighbor covered in tattoos, piercings, and stitches: Dabi  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Who doesn’t care all that much for your safety until he puts two and two together 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Suddenly he’s smoking a blunt on your shared block  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Or outside your workplace 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“What’sa matter babe, I’m just here ta protect ya don’t mind me.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Your other neighbor isn’t so forward 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Uhm I think they gave me, your package.” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Ugh of course those morons would do that! I’m going to kill that—Whoa!” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“...Uh sir…hello?” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“....Yeah…” 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥After your meeting you find yourself plugging in more of these mysterious holes 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥And having to deliver more packages that are delivered to you 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Even the ones that possibly contain human remains+ 🎮✋🏻🪡🔥“Yeah this is definitely going to keep happening so just let yourself in, it's easier to acclimatize you that way.”  🎮✋🏻🪡🔥Though it seems your neighbors already butt their heads quite a lot it gets even worse when they both seem keen on changing your situation:

“Where is this breeze even—Dabi!? What the heck, man!? What’d I say about breaking in through the window?” You dropped your coat and work uniform to dash across the little space to close the window, passing by the intruder who was much more interested in penning a new name onto his ankle. You didn’t wait for a response, continuing to talk as you did your usual perimeter check. 

“You’re practically making my place open season for all the weirdos with an open window like that!”

Dabi scoffed, “Babe, your open season because you’re you. I’m in fact holding down the fort.”

You shook your head putting your dropped things back in place. 

“Riiight. And it doesn’t have anything to do with eating my food?”

The man put a scarred hand to his chest feigning pain as his familiar smirk spread across his face. 

“Aww babe, you think so low of me?”

“I think low is an understatement. They think you’re dirt.” 

The blunt and gravelly voice of Tomura Shigaraki rang throughout the bedroom growing louder as he shuffled into the living room, a portable game in hand. You did a double take as you were sure you walked in there but you shrugged letting him make himself at home. After all, this was normal for you to be the host to your no doubt criminal neighbors.

“That’s awfully bold of you, packrat. (Y/n) loves me don’t you babe?”

“Don’t call them that and don’t let everyone know how delusional you really are. (Y/n) attracts enough creeps already.”

“Well King Incel,” “I’m not a–” “Yes you are, and I’m the least of their problems. In fact, I’ll be their precious hero, ain’t that right baby?”

You chuckled while shaking your head before beginning to close your bedroom door. Sticking your head out when they got up to follow you.

“Ah ah I’m taking a shower and no this isn’t a group activity! If you come in I’ll stab you, got it?”

“...”

“Got. It?”

“Fine, fine.” “Maybe next time sugar.”

With the slam of the door and a click of your lock, a tense silence fell over the room. The only sound was the cries and screams and the sound of bullets from Tomura’s game system. When the sounds abruptly stopped Tomura was the one who spoke.

“Their hero, huh? You’ve got plans or something?”

Dabi sucked his teeth, dubiously grinning at Tomura’s glaring pair of eyes.

“I thought you were a gamer no? Aren’t you supposed to wait for my big reveal?”

Tomura growled, clutching the game in his hands.

“Forget that. You’re going to do something stupid and everyone knows you don’t leave the dumb to their devices. So what’s your plan.”

“...”

At Dabi’s silence, Tomura felt a surge of anger slamming his game into a nearby coffee table. He gritted his teeth and banged his fist.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM!? I’ll figure it out eventually so you might as well tell me!” 

Dabi groaned, he would have laughed had it been anyone else but he wasn’t so stupid to poke the bear cub. 

“(Y/n) and I are going to get out of here. This crap apartment isn’t good enough for them and they're way too lax. I’m just taking care of them so don’t get your panties in a twist.”

For some reason that didn’t seem to soothe Tomura who stood to his feet with closed fists. Angrily shaking them as he visibly scowled at Dabi. 

“Y-you stole my idea!”

“Your idea? Please in the real world, kid, it’s called being smart.”

“No it’s called being a scheming b-”

Your bedroom door swings open as you make your way into the kitchen. All it takes is a curious tilt of your head in Tomura’s direction that has him sitting back down and begrudgingly returning to his game. You simply shrugged passing by a smirking Dabi as you made your way to the kitchen.

“So boys what’s for dinner?”

[grimbanes]

I'm Getting Used to You. (Kaz Brekker x gn!reader)

Summary: “You should shut your mouth, Brekker, before you say something you regret. If you drive me out of here, you’ll only be back on my doorstep in five months time. You need me more than you want me so suck it up. You’re becoming a liability, not me,” Venom. You had enough, laying it out to him.  Kaz’s form stood in front of the table, an unreadable expression on his face. OR kaz and the reader have a hard conversation and you're pretty tired of his shit. PART TWO OF I WAS USING YOU. WC: 3.1k GENRE: angst, minor action, sprinklings of fluff, ooc kaz? tw: violence, blood, the usual warning for SOC. a/n: i left it open for a possible part 3. i intended for more angst but cheri cheri lady by modern talking was on replay.

You continued on your path through the streets of Ketterdam, baked goods tucked under your arm and a light skip in your step. The sun was starting to kiss the seas goodnight, laying to rest beneath her depths and the cool breath of night air was starting to introduce itself to leaning rooftops. Your shoulder had been healing nicely, still bandaged and sore at the joint, still bruised. It would scar and be a permanent reminder for yourself. Don’t fall in love with criminals. To everyone’s surprise, you and Kaz had fallen back into your usual routines with not a mention or hint of prior feelings being discussed. Business as usual.

Your shoulder had healed and your heart had frozen over and you had to learn to like it that way. You couldn’t let yourself be the kind of person to force somebody else to face your feelings for you, to pull you through your trauma instead of you learning to swim through it. You hadn’t been on a job in just over a month, Kaz’s orders. He said he hadn’t wanted to risk any liabilities in his plans and didn’t like to work around the possibility of one either. And you were glad for it. Getting shot was turning out to be one of the best things to ever happen to you. 

As you approached the Crow Club, you momentarily considered just how lucky you were to have the people in your life that you did. You pushed the door open and immediately shuddered, welcoming the slightly warmer air and clicking the door behind you shut. 

“Are you cold?” That voice that used to haunt your dreams and comfort your evenings called out from behind the bar, Kaz Brekker emerging with a ledger in one hand and a pen in the other. It seemed he had been taking stock, doing his usual numbers and checks. Perhaps the new liquor had been selling nicely or maybe he wanted to double check before they opened for the night. 

“It’s Ketterdam. It’s always cold,” You smoothly replied, stepping further into the building and aiming for the door off to the side. You had fresh baked goods to store away, jams and creams to preserve or else they would spoil much too soon. You had workers to feed, after all, and street urchins who sometimes stopped by for some warmth and a snack before looking for a place to sleep for the night. 

“Jes has gone to the Slat,” Kaz said uselessly, closer than you anticipated. You hadn’t even heard him follow you. 

You glanced over your shoulder, wincing a little with the strain and met his curious gaze, those stoney irises watching you with careful consideration. That’s how the two of you were. No more breaths wasted on confessions or anguish. You didn’t even argue, not since you were shot. Instead he watched you like a crow scouting its next meal, lingering a little too long and offering you his presence. You liked it better than arguing, truly. That was draining and the last thing you needed was to be emotionally drained and injured. 

You hummed in response to him, nodding once. You knew that already, Jesper had told you where he was spending his evening. 

“Coffee?” You offered gently, holding up two cups.

“I have work to do.”

You didn’t fight him, nor did you react. Not like you used to. Before, you would have told him ‘work can wait for Dirtyhands to have a cup of tea’ or ‘indulge me, Mr Brekker, I know you want to’. Your routine with him was the same but the soft little moments you had together had been the price. 

You ignored Kaz’s fidgeting, his lack of cane. You ignored the way he checked his timepiece, rocked on his feet and approached. You hummed to yourself as Kaz began to assist you, placing jams on shelves and creams aside - they would spoil by tomorrow, but it was treat enough. You only acknowledged it when you offered him a thankful smile, a nod and began to pour yourself your drink. You could only stare at his gloved hands as they delicately held onto the rim of a cup and settled it next to yours, his fingers lingering on it. Your head turned from the cup to Kaz, his eyes already locked onto you. 

Kaz Brekker truly was a beautiful individual. High cheekbones and fresh scars, his bottom lip split from whatever fight he had recently been in. You had no doubt his knuckles beneath his gloves were scarred. He stood dressed in all black, the warm light of burning candles reflecting warmth in his conflicted irises - the way his throat bobbed and mouth twitched when he considered saying something, the tension rigid in his shoulders with the stiffness in his arm whilst holding the cup. He was an enigma and one you were deeply fond of, even if you didn’t wish to pursue anything with him further. It hurt too much. 

With only you and Kaz Brekker standing in that building, you didn’t utter a word as you poured the hot liquid into his cup. You wouldn’t dare tell a soul that the Bastard of the Barrel changed his mind on something. 

“Nina is also at the Slat,” Kaz spoke up, clearing his throat and stepping an inch back from you, startled by the lack of distance between the two of you - you wanted to roll your eyes.

“I know,” You replied curtly, sliding over his cup and bidding yourself exit from the makeshift kitchen. 

“Then why are you here?” Kaz asked, a few uneven steps behind you but trailing you nonetheless. Kaz Brekker didn’t follow anyone. 

“I work here,” You stated the obvious, sinking into a corner table beside the bar.

That seemed to be enough. Kaz stopped trailing you. 

“You should quit,” He said from across the room, coffee in hand, his nose buried into his numbers and papers even though you both knew damn well he had it all memorised three times over. 

You laughed, bitter and lacking all amusement. You slammed a hand down on the table, irritation bubbling deep in your skin. You never snapped. You were accepting, patient. All the things somebody like him needed when he was acting without thinking, sabotaging himself and you. This time, you weren’t putting up with it. 

“You should shut your mouth, Brekker, before you say something you regret. If you drive me out of here, you’ll only be back on my doorstep in five months time. You need me more than you want me so suck it up. You’re becoming a liability, not me,” You had enough, laying it out to him. You were echoing Nina’s words back at him. Kaz had to realise what he was doing. He couldn’t not see it, right?

Kaz’s form stood in front of the table, an unreadable expression on his face. He pulled out a chair, sat down opposite you and carded his gloved fingers through his hair, disheveling his appearance further. He didn’t speak for a moment, analysing you. This is what he did, he studied and looked for weakness, one he could use against you later and force your hand when he deemed it convenient. Unfortunately for him, your only weakness happened to be him. 

“I want you out of here by the time we open. You’re done with the Dregs,” Kaz decided, a small nod of his head and bitter curl of his lips. 

His eyes didn’t meet yours, staring down at his twitching fingers atop the stained table. You stared at him incredulously. You laughed at him. Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, was so afraid of his own feelings that he was really willing to fire you. You shook your head, an amused smile on your face and a snort escaping, pointing at him with a waggle of your finger as if to say ‘good one’. 

“And who will be there to cover Jesper when he inevitably wanders away from the door? Who will cover Wylan on jobs when he has to focus on his other businesses? Who will watch your back when you need a scout? Certainly not Inej, she’s got her own life. Nina? Not likely. You need me, Brekker. You don’t have to want me, you can fight that all you want. You’re making rash decisions based on fear, on weakness, and it’s making you a hypocrite. It’s not easy for me either so just deal with it or go away,” You explained. You knew you were being condescending but it felt so good to be the only person who could talk down to Dirtyhands. 

“I don’t want you gone because of feelings for you.” Kaz said, his gaze unwavering and irritation clear in the twitch of his eye, the lazy raise of his eyebrow and the subtle, dangerous smirk wanting to pull up one side of his face, “I want you gone because I don’t want you to be hurt again.”

You couldn’t stop your own guard from slipping, your expression falling the more you stared at him. He hadn’t been firing you, he was worried about you. You licked your lips, nodded once and then shuffled in your chair. You pulled it around the table, placed it next to Kaz’s and sat yourself beside him. Where you were always supposed to be. Without touching him, you leaned into his space, close enough that when he turned his head to face you, there were only mere inches between the two of you. 

“We’re both very dark people, Kaz. Despite that, you’re still my light. I understand that you’re worried, that you don’t know how to process your feelings when you’re overwhelmed but that’s okay. We don’t always have to fight. We can just be,” You said with a small, tender smile on your mouth. All of your anger began to dissipate and the tension in Kaz’s shoulder began to cease, his hands unclenching and something akin to a smile graced his pale eyes, vulnerability staring straight back at you. 

“We could have this,” Kaz mumbled, his head dipped and momentarily, his forehead knocked gently against yours. It was barely a touch, enough for him to exhale shakily, his throat bobbing and he was all yours in that single moment. 

“That’s right, Kaz. We could have this,” You nodded and his head was turning from you, “You just have to want it enough. You’re a man who sees value, what value is this to you?”

Kaz steeled himself, leaning back in his chair and then he was looking at you again. Conflicted. He breathed out, rolled his tongue into his cheek and accepted his fate. His arm moved from in front of him to instead drape over the back of your chair, pulling the wood closer to himself and his eyes met yours once again, his bruised face illuminated in a stunning, golden glow. The dark cloud in front of you stepped aside, revealing the sunshine that he kept hidden deep beneath his rugged surface. 

“I would burn kruge to keep you warm,” Kaz chose to say.

It was a silly response, one that had you laughing into your hand, your head cast aside. He was staring again, something soft painting his renaissance features a gentle version of his previous self. There was a tilt in his head, a subtle smile on the left corner of his lips that met his eyes, steady and confident as he always was. Your fingers hugged the surface of your cup and you clinked it against his.

“That would be a lot of kruge and besides… I don’t feel so cold anymore,” You said to him, watching relief practically emanate from every pore and every little motion that belonged to Kaz Brekker. 

____________________________________________________________

You ducked and weaved, jumping back and arching yourself in a way to avoid swing after swing. You kissed your brass knuckles, pulled back your arm and lunged, cracking your fist down on an already bloody cheekbone. The man fell onto the floor and you groaned, rolling a kink out of your shoulder. Your weight shifted to your heel, realigning your centre of balance and you were kicking a leg out as you turned, the nails sticking out of the bottom of your boots sticking into a chest as you sent the second assailant into the alleyway wall. You wiped your forehead, smudging blood away. You had to run. If they pulled guns, that was it for you.

Turning on your heel, you darted towards the exit of the alleyway but instead of going through the exit, you hopped up and gripped onto the edge of a tall, damp wall. One foot at a time, you climbed and swung your body over the top. You dropped into a roll to carry the momentum and began to sprint. You weaved through carts and traders, slipping past Komedie Brute disguises. It had been foolish to wander so far, you knew it, but you just needed a nice stroll in the night and the weather had been somewhat clear for Ketterdam.

There was no other explanation. Someone from the gang must have let slip the precarious nature of your relationship with Kaz Brekker. You hadn’t put a label on it but it was obvious how you felt about one another. One of their many fools must have let it slip on a gambling table or in a rival club’s bar. You had been followed and targeted. Of course you would be, anyone would love the chance to get at the one man who had single handedly dominated the game to the point where it barely seemed like a war and more like a massacre. The possibility of turncoat or traitor was dangerous, accidental or not. It had to be dealt with.

You continued to run, scaling fences and low walls and arches, your stamina draining only slowly. You kept running even on the algae slick cobbled paths, throwing yourself down alleyways. Luckily, they weren’t able to keep you. You threw yourself up the stairs to the Crow Club, bursting through the door and staggering through patron and client. You kept pushing until you were throwing open the door to Kaz’s office, slamming it behind you. He looked at you with annoyance at first but it quickly turned to confusion, then anger.

“What happened to you?” Kaz asked, his tone dry. He gestured a hand for you to sit and you did, throwing yourself into the seat opposite him. His hair was slicked back away from his strong bone structure and he looked bored, itching to go do anything else even if he loved puzzles and numbers. 

“Felt like going for a little walk and got jumped. Seems one of our donnies may have said something he shouldn’t have,” You said, accepting the handkerchief Kaz extended to you between two fingers. You wiped blood away, hissing. He then opened his drawer, pulling out a flask of what could only be his usual brandy and he tossed it to you. You opened it, poured it on the cloth and began to wipe at your cuts and bruises, sterilising them. 

“There’s always a risk in being associated with me,” He said but it was evident that he was unsettled. He rose from his seat, left his paperwork open and circled the desk. 

The young man sat against it, his tall height towering over you and gingerly, he took the handkerchief from your clumsy hands. He’d always been dexterous, careful and exact with his skilled hands, much more elegant than you would ever be. Kaz took your chin in between his finger and thumb, tilted your head up to look at him. Bow shaped, unfairly pink lips pressed into a firm line and gentle touches brushed your fresh cuts, wiping away fresh blood. Carefully, he turned your head to the side and tutted, dabbing your temple. If it affected him, he was doing well not to show it other than heavier breathing. He didn’t stop until he was satisfied, his hands dropping to settle in front of him and he stared at you. 

“No murderous intent?” You asked quietly, leaned forward. You wouldn’t push into his space. He always had to come to you first, you didn’t want to overwhelm him. 

Kaz’s lips broke into a malicious grin, his teeth on show and something dangerous stared back at you in his blue hydrangea eyes, a flood beginning to rise and a cyclone daring to push onto land. “Oh darling, I am furious. Patience is a skill I have mastered and nurtured. I’m going to gut every single Dreg until my floors are stained the perfect shade of red. I’ve been meaning to redecorate.”

“Who knew you were such a romantic,” You laughed, your heart stuttering your chest. 

Blood was currency in Ketterdam, worth so much more than kruge and everybody and anybody knew if there was one thing Kaz craved more than kruge, it was blood. His gloved fingers brushed hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear and he was everything in that moment. He was violent and he was malicious. He was loving and he was affectionate. More importantly, you were truly starting to believe that he was yours. He tutted, tsked and sighed, pushing away from the desk and reached for his cane where it had been propped against his desk.

“Will you be alright?” He asked, the thunderous rage crackling through his towering figure adorned in black and gold and you had never felt more loved in your entire life. Kaz was making sure you were okay before he got his own revenge. How sweet. You smiled, your cheeks flushed pink. 

“Even if I wasn’t, I know you’d make sure I would be,” You teased, standing behind him and he glanced at you from over his shoulder, his brows raised.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” He rolled his eyes, turning around to face you and leaning his weight into his cane.

“Is that an offer?”

“I’ll cut out your tongue if you keep talking, love,” Kaz stepped past you, reaching for the handle of the door and then he paused, looked at you and pointed his finger as he said, “Stay here. If I see you anywhere but this office, I’ll break your legs too.” 

“If you want me on my knees, just ask,” You continued, flipping through the pages on his desk. 

“You’re irritating.”

“You adore me,” You were still distracting him from completing his mission but you were thoroughly enjoying the hold you had over him. Kaz shook his head, annoyed. 

“I do.” 

That was the last thing he said before the door was slamming behind him. 

You hadn’t expected him to agree.

tags: @noctemys @osteopsycho @stxrg4zer @vyctorya

( comment if you want to be apart of future tags! )

[inkblot-inc]

The Bigger Picture

Summary: See what happens when you undermine your boss AKA the one who's paying your bills...

Pairing: ???Wanda Maximoff x Hyena!Mutant!Reader

[S.S AU Masterlist]

Warning(s): This is an 18+ AU so MINORS DNI. Also Dark Themes in general. There's smut in the first half of this one: strap-on usage (r giving) oral sex (Wanda recieving). There's some pretty crass language as per usual on my end, I can’t think of much else but let me know.

Note(s): I present another the start of another AU, ladies and gentlefriends! Where did it come from? The deep reaches of my MIND not all that deep really, I just can't stop my brain from scratching like an addict- but it's pretty decent for fall/spoopy season I think. I hope y'all enjoy :3

Word Count: Just a bit shy of 2.1k

*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit!

You remember seeing the world through younger eyes. The scene around you is blurry and out of focus with only the barest hint of awareness of tears running down your face. The only thing you can make out is a man’s back, his imposing stature, his cropped hair, and how his figure seems to get smaller and smaller as he walks away from you. His apathy is the clearest; his steps never falter, not does her look back at you. You feel like an outside viewer as you watch a hand, your hand, continue to reach for him. You fight in another person’s grip as you're being dragged away.

“Baba please! Help me, I don’t wanna go!”

The lack of response through the high winds only made your yelling feel louder before your vision was then blocked by a hood over your face. Even if you couldn’t identify with the anguish anymore it still hissed at your nerves, grasping and pulling at you like a desperate whore for your attention…

The continued thump, thump, thumping sound throughout the room brought you back into the moment as you continued pounding the woman beneath you into the velvety couch cushions beneath. The woman’s wavy red hair splayed out and her nails digging into your shoulders as she let her moans fall from her mouth in an unending stream.

She gave a shout as she hit her orgasm and you watched her green eyes glaze over as she gave you a hazy smile, you returned a smaller one of your own. One of her hands slid up your chest to caress your throat, fingers running over the scarring coating the entirety of it.

Her eyes scanned yours in open concern. “Is everything okay? Where did you go just now?”

You merely squinted, “old-times...’s still loud.” Your voice came out gravely and with a creek.

With your thumb caressing her waist, you leaned back to sit upright before using a hand to move her half-unbuttoned blouse further down her arms. With more of the redhead's skin exposed and your head still swimming, you went back in to leave kisses ranging from her neck, down to her collarbone, and even further to the valley of her breasts. You felt the woman's hand take the back of your neck to have you take one of the mounds in your mouth.

The hand you had resting on the woman's waist moved to squeeze her thigh while you eased your strap out of her with a few more slow strokes. You released her flushed nipple with a small plop, your saliva slightly glistening in the light of the office space before you slid off of the couch to the floor.

Getting to a kneel, you keep your gaze on the eyes of the woman in front of you while reaching down by her ankles and fully removing her already ruined panties.

A glint sparks in your eyes as you stare at her still dripping pussy. You lick a stripe up her entrance before lightly sucking on her clit, causing the woman above you to jolt with a gasp.

The woman watches you go back to eating her out with a small crackling chuckle. "You love this, don't you?"

You only look up to meet her eyes, your mouth still working on her. You blink slowly before doubling your efforts on her pussy.

Her head falls back as she continues to buck into your mouth. "Yesyesyes, hah, just like that baby," She isn't especially loud, but the pleading laced in her voice is what drives you to your own brink.

You sink into the moans that come from her lips, soon turning into breathless whimpers as she brings your head impossibly closer to her heat. As ribbons of red made their way into your ears, you let her fog invade your mind and take over.

Everything else melted away into oblivion. You were older now as you watched the tattered dirt path become peaceful grasses, the people became well-rooted trees in full bloom. Armored cars and loaded rifles dissipated into mere accents of a pleasant scene. And at the center of it all, was the same woman as now. her velvet greens staring back at you with a warmth that could make the Niganda sun seem cold.

The redhead's grip tightened in your hair as her movements became more erratic against your face. You brought a hand up to play with her clit and work to bring her over the edge again.

Things were much simpler this way. No confusing flashes of people you don’t remember, no random jolts of phantom pain. You were sure to live in the moment, and your most recent memories didn’t hurt you to think about and when the details became fuzzy you almost missed them.

Your head rested on her inner thigh after you helped her ride out her high. Her finger rubbed just beneath your eye as your eyes locked, reveling in each other. "There you are, right here with me."

And it was all because of her. Wanda.

Wanda held your chin in her hand before she swiped her thumb over your bottom lip and tasted herself. Even with a fresh afterglow setting in, the fire in her eyes never abated. Wanda's power was always there.

That same energy that let her linger in your mind and relieve you of that lost momentum and gave you stability to latch for. You’d do anything to keep that. You’d do anything to keep Wanda.

As you helped her get her panties and skirt back on and make sure the back of her skirt was the front again, your mind was calm at a gentle hum, distant screams of the past going ignored as you helped fix up the couch of her associate’s office.

----------

Wanda’s mood had noticeably soured since you’d had your fill of each other. Her face had become a mask of neutrality with traces of agitation she just couldn’t seem to remove as she flipped through the papers settled on the desk. It was less decorated than her own; she’d hardly spared a glance at the few picture frames placed on top of the hardwood either. She didn’t want to see more than she’d had to for the day.

Standing up from the leather couch settled on the side of the room, you wandered around the rather plain space aimlessly, looking at the fully stacked bookshelves, more than half the titles going over your head with disinterest. Settling by where Wanda was seated, you faced the door as you heard incoming noise before the doorknob could even jostle.

Murky blue eyes startled as he caught sight of the two of you in his office. The older man wheeled himself further into his office before having the door shut behind him. Your eyes stayed on him, unwavering. “Wanda, to what do I owe this unexpected visit? I was called out of a very important-”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Better yet, who do you think you are, Xavier?” Wanda wasn’t interested in wasting time with false pleasantries.

“What exactly are you referring to, Wanda? I’ve done nothing but do as you’ve asked.” Wanda carefully kept her face blank as she observed the bald man.

“Keeping a wire on not only my vehicles, but my associates’ as well. Getting your grunts to try and tap my phone calls. They’ve gotten especially sloppy within the past few weeks, by the way. You should talk with Scott about that. All this to gain the favor of one Mr. William Stryker,” She placed the photos one of her skulkers took from their meeting a few nights ago on the table.

“Is that exact enough for you, Charles?”

You watch the man’s shoulders tense, a crease forming in his brow. You can clearly smell his nerves building while Wanda is still deathly calm. Her hands stay steepled in front of her face by her mouth, her eyes squint every now and then as she continues to observe the man.

“I've only given false information I assure you-”

“I know it is, because I basically spoon fed it to you and your men. You know nothing I don't want you to EVEN with you haphazardly bugging my house. Now, what I want to know is how you didn’t think I’d catch on. Do you think I’m stupid, Charles?” There is a noticeable edge in her voice now and the hairs on the back of your neck began to bristle, reacting to her aggravation.

Charles spoke up quickly “It was a part of the plan to have eyes in higher places, for the sake of all mutants, Wanda!”

The accent of her voice grew thick as her tone dropped lower. “Do not try to insult my intelligence, old man. You’ve done things here and there to try and undermine my headship when you think I won’t notice, but you will not pull this. Stryker is a sad little leech who wants to eliminate us all and has no qualms about being vocal about it. You want to try and make nice, fondle the balls of a man who wouldn’t bat an eye to exterminate mutants? You simply won’t be classified among us.”

As Wanda spoke those last few words, you watched as a familiar red aura surrounded Charles, her eyes glowing bright as Charles howled in pain as a pale blue aura rose out of his body where he sat. You almost thought Wanda was going to kill him then and there before his screams settled down.

Charles was breathing heavily, his form hunched over in his chair before his eyes widened with realization. “My powers…”

“You wanted to appease the mortal man, now you can live and die counted as one of them. Your bootlicking wife will be too once my people find her.”

“Hee-he-hick,” A feral giggle erupted from your mouth as you watched him carry on belligerently.

“You leave Moira out of this! we’ve done nothing but look out for you, Wanda! Your father would-”

“What did I say about insulting my intelligence? You and my father were at odds throughout his entire headship. You know nothing of what he would do nor what he would want.”

She slid more photos onto the table, the other man in them tickled something in your throat as recognition passed through you.

Wanda tapped on the man's face with her pointer finger, "This man. Tell me where he is."

Charles peered over to look at the photo, his nerves a bit all over the place. "Pierce? I've no idea Wanda, he's been gone for days now. You have to believe me,"

Wanda tutted her tongue as she brought her hands back in front of her. "I don't have to do anything, but I do believe you. Unfortunately for you that makes you completely useless to me, Charles." She pursed her lips in a faux pout.

You could almost see the man shaking in his chair as he went on indignantly. You wound up tuning him out as he kept going on about loyalty and nonsense.

‘Do I kill him now?’

Wanda reached back for your neck, running her thumb over the scarring over your throat. “We’re just about done here, but Charles can see himself out, I believe.”

Charles couldn’t even properly understand what was going on right away because, one: He was in the middle of explaining how the original members of the syndicate needed to stick together, and two: He can’t read minds anymore. I mean, what’s he going to do now?

“You can go see if the college across town has any openings, but you’ve been relieved of your position with Maximoff Unlimited as well as the Scarlet Syndicate which will be vacant as of today, effective immediately. Now you can roll yourself out of this office, or I can have Y/n here escort you out. They don't seem too keen on being delicate with you.”

You tilted your head as a choppy rumble passed your lips. The prospect of handling the man yourself was very appealing right now. Charles likely recognized this as he made his way to the door himself. Red mist opens the door for him.

“Smart choice. So you do have some sense left. Oh, and Charles?”

The man stopped in the doorway, but didn't turn to look at Wanda.

“The next time you try to throw me or my company under the bus, remember who put you in that wheelchair.”

[kartaylirnaak]

Hi there !! So can you share about the care and feeding of your Marshal Commander for the WIP game ? 👀

Oh, this one! This is an older WIP that grew out of an idea and chat with a few others in a discord server. The opening lines of this fic pretty much explain what it is.

The following document is the manual on the care and feeding of Marshal Commander Cody of the Third Systems Army, 7th Sky Corps, 212th Attack Battalion, and Ghost Company. Collated within are various strategies, recommendations, and advice on how to look after our favourite droid punching, antenna hoarding, lightsaber retrieving, tactical genius of a vod.

The idea is that it's full of all sorts of information, context, and stories about Cody. I had hoped to post the first chapter for Cody Day (2/2/24) but IRL stuff got in the way and like everything I write, it ended up growing much, much larger than I had originally planned. Here's a few different sections from what I have written.

Part of the Introduction

Cody is aware of the existence of this manual but is barred from viewing it or knowing any of its contents. He will still try to get the information out of you. Do not let him.  

Part of the general section in the Batchmates chapter

Apart from the Corries (see the section on Fox below), whenever the 212th works with any of these units, make sure Cody gets time to spend with his respective batchmate. This should happen anyway as they’ll usually end up double bunking and sharing quarters but try to keep distractions to a minimum. Time spent grumbling over flimsiwork together is still better than being comm’d to come and deal with a prank that has gone disastrously wrong. Good luck trying to explain to your very grumpy Marshal Commander and his equally grumpy batchmate (who is also a Commander or Marshal Commander) why the bunks in Barracks 6C are on fire and every visible surface in Barracks 8E is covered in a fine powdery glitter. You’ll be on sanitation duty for so long that you might as well live in the freshers and become one with the mouse droids. 

Wolffe's section in the Batchmates chapter

After Rex (see section below), the batchmate that Cody is more likely to see is Wolffe. Unfortunately, these instances will probably be fleeting and unscheduled, as the 104th spends most of its days bouncing around the universe conducting search and rescue operations. So if they’ve turned up, then something has probably gone very wrong. This does have a tendency to happen as, much to Cody’s chagrin, his Jedi has a particularly bad habit of hurling himself into dangerous situations because it’s “the will of the Force, my dear”. The 212th also works with the 501st quite often and something always goes off the rails when Skywalker is involved. When it all goes spectacularly badly wrong, expect to see the 104th turn up and laugh. (You mean save the day – Wolffe). This doesn’t give Wolffe many opportunities for down time with vode from other battalions as he’s either pulling people out of the fire, coordinating the aftermath, or debriefing on where it all went wrong before flying off to save the next bunch of sorry bastards. Your best chance of finding time for Cody and Wolffe to catch up is by suggesting to their Jedi that they should take the opportunity to meditate together. Both of them are fully aware that this is absolute bullshit and will willingly indulge it as they’re both far too fond of their respective commanders. Sadly, the situation won’t always allow for this. For the times when everything is even more chaotic than usual, the best you’re going to manage is for Cody and Wolffe to be working together and perhaps get a few words together before Wolffe disappears again. While not optimal, it at least gives both of them the chance to visually confirm the other is still alive and hasn’t added to their facial scar collection. They’re currently both at 1-1 and are not allowed to add to it. Wolffe also brings out a particular kind of feral in Cody. Don’t be surprised to see scratches, bruises or bite marks that have been hastily smeared with bacta after they’ve spent time together. This is either from them beating the crap out of each other for fun or railing each other into the floor. Or both. Just continue on like you haven’t seen a giant hickey on your CO’s neck and politely suggest to Cody that he might want to pull up the collar of his blacks. You should hopefully avoid being eviscerated by his glare. Hopefully.     

I'm rather fond of this WIP, keep forgetting about it, and intimidated by it. This is another one that I'm not sure will ever see the light of day, even though I've written most of the Introduction, Batchmates chapter and an entire section on what to do when Cody gets in The Fighty Mood™

[theadventuresofalittlebug]

🐾Scar Headcanons🐾

🎩 As a CG 🎩

🐾 Good with all ages, works best with kiddos who are fine with low energy play like watching movies, playing board games, and coloring 

🐾 Very crafty! He makes custom pacis, sippy cups, and bottles, which he always sells in a shop he makes every season

🐾 Likes to give gifts, stuffed animals, his custom pacis, new games and puzzles, etc

🐾 Likes to exaggerate a lot or make up stories to make the littles laugh

🐾 Jellie is a good “assistant caregiver”, she’ll sit with the littles and give them licks on the face when they’re sad, and Scar has trained her to pick up dropped pacis and give them to him. He’s trying to teach Katy and Finny the same, it’s going… slowly

🐾 On good days he’s up to pretty much anything, but he frequently has low energy and pain, so on those days he needs to just hang out and chill

🐾 Likes cooking and baking, so lots of yummy meals and cookies!

🐾 Takes the littles on tours of Scarland and the Zoo! Telling fun facts about the design and the animals, and letting them pet the safe ones! When they’re at the Zoo with younger littles he’ll make the sounds the animals do! It’s educational AND silly!

🐾 Great cuddler, but sometimes uncomfortable with touch (he always warns the kiddos if that’s the case, so he doesn’t get surprise hugs)

🐾 Very encouraging! Always telling the kids they’re doing a good job 

🐾 Knows lots of fun magic tricks and card tricks, and you can always count on him to entertain with them

🐾 Good with first aid and medical issues in general 

🐈 As a little 🐈

🐾 Usually around 5-8, but if he’s having a bad pain day he’ll regress to 2-3

🐾 He is also a pet regressor (kitten), however I don’t know much about petre so I don’t have many hcs for it. However I do imagine he wears noise canceling headphones with cat ears on them when regressed, it doubles as both ears AND as prevention from overstimulation!

🐾 CG is typically Cub, but Grian, Tango, Impulse, and Skizz frequently babysit

🐾 Very sensitive when little, either wants lots of affection or to not be touched at all, crys a lot when he’s younger, low tolerance for certain types of pain (despite having good pain tolerance when big), but can typically take a scratch (he’s got plenty of those from the cats, he knows how to deal with it). Feelings are hurt pretty easily 

🐾 Loves talking to Cub about space

🐾 Just like when big, he will ramble for HOURS about Disney and Star Wars, especially Star Wars, his CGs are careful to show interest when he’s little though, not wanting him to feel upset

🐾 Jellie can tell when he’s little, and is more tolerant of his affection then

🐾 This could go in CG or little but he has given a Jellie plushie to every hermit, and many friends outside of Hermitcraft, I do mostly imagine he did this while little though.

🐾 He also has a llama plushie, and Grian has a matching one, they got them right after third life

🐾 Loves cookies, like, a lot

🐾 Most of the times he goes to bother Tango he is little. He likes to visit his friends when small, and thinks it’s funny to mildly annoy people, especially when it is ACTUALLY helpful (Tango needs a break)

🐾 Really likes video games, I imagine when the hermits play games not in minecraft it is actually their character playing that game, so Scar frequently regresses when doing that. He prefers more chill calm games when little, more intense games scare him a bit 

[twilightakiishi]

summary: kakucho is shy around you, and has a very dramatic inner monologue. ft. izana, ran, rindou, and shion.

word count: 1.8k

genre: fluff. crack/comedy?

warnings: f! reader, kaku is very nervous, he refers to his scar, but it isn’t really talked about, this is really the first time i've posted fic so let me know if i missed anything!

“everybody shut up.” izana stares intensely into the corner of the banquet hall with a hand held out to silence ran, rindou, and shion. the trio pause mid conversation to follow their leader’s gaze. 

 “oh! they put out more punch. ima go get—”

izana swings an arm across shion’s chest, catapulting the blond back to where he was standing before, alongside rindou. “if you ruin this, i’ll put rindou in charge of ruining your joints.”

the three of them exchange a confused look, brows furrowed, then turn back to izana curiously.

 “ruin what, exactly?” ran questions.

 izana snaps his head toward the three of them, “kakucho’s moment. don’t you see who he’s speaking to?”

 with the way kakucho is carrying himself right now, if izana hadn’t pointed him out, they never would’ve spotted him. kakucho, usually headstrong and self-assured, standing tall and intimidating on a normal day, is currently fidgeting with his jewelry and looking everywhere except at the girl in front of him. it makes rindou cringe, and ran huffs out a laugh at his brother’s expression.

“and how exactly is this his…moment?”

“he looks like he’d rather be doing anything than talking to that person.”

“seriously. dude looks miserable. what’s his deal?”

izana sighs, exasperated, “can you three shut up? i’m trying to read their lips and i can’t concentrate with your yapping.”

“...doesn’t look like he’s saying much.” rindou notes.

“not with his mouth at least. man is screaming internally, by the looks of him, though.” 

kakucho senses eyes on him from afar, and takes that as an opportunity to once again avert his eyes from yours. the sight of izana and the three idiots watching him with amusement is the last thing he needs right now. if he keeps fumbling this hard, he’ll never hear the end of it from them.

“kaku-chan? you good?” your voice snaps him back to reality. 

“huh? me? yeah. yeah, i’m…” his eyes flicker back over to where his friends are standing, and shion is giving him an obnoxious double thumbs up as izana slaps both his arms down to his sides. he sighs, and looks back to you, “i’m fine. great, even,” he chuckles nervously and downs his entire cup of punch to alleviate the dryness in his mouth. except, he doesn’t swallow soon enough, and the last bits of punch dribble down his chin onto his dress shirt. you’re blowing it, kakucho, he thinks to himself.

you try to hide a giggle behind your hand, but he clocks it, and wishes he could just crawl into a hole and never emerge again. i guess it’s time to pull a haitani and completely change my hairstyle. i wonder what color would make me unrecognizable. maybe i even go bald. and i also leave japan. and i’ll bulk up so big, i’ll have to buy a whole new wardrobe. yeah, this could work…

his thoughts are interrupted when he feels your hand on his chest, dabbing the liquid away with a napkin. he freezes, and slowly looks down to see your face twisted in concentration, with that small little smile that never really leaves your lips. you’re so pretty up close. he wants to brush away the strands of hair that are sticking to your lipgloss, but he thinks if he moves even an inch, he might wake up in a cold sweat. this is a dream, right? yeah. yeah, must be. that’s why i’m so warm i feel like i could pass out, and that’s why i can’t hear her, even though her lips are moving. 

…wait. “huh?”

you giggle again, and repeat louder, “i said, it’s a good thing your shirt is red. the punch is the same exact color,” after careful consideration, you add, “your eye, too.” 

“my… my eye?”

“yeah. your shirt and your eye are the same color.” his cheeks are now, too, but you think you might finally be getting some words out of him, so you decide to keep that to yourself. “did you do that on purpose? I didn’t know you were so detail-oriented, kaku-chan.” 

he laughs nervously at the nickname you give him. you overheard takemichi calling him that one day, and you haven’t called him anything else since. he makes a mental note to thank takemichi for that next time he sees him. 

“uh, yeah! totally.” he’s lying through his teeth. he knows damn well kokonoi helped him put his outfit together, but he’s not giving that asshole any credit right now. he’ll thank him later. this is his moment.

you don’t buy it for a second. he’s a terrible liar, and it’s kind of endearing. you play along anyway. “well, you clean up real nice. it’s nice to see you dressed up for a change. classy. and i’m a fan of the grown out hair.” he really wasn’t expecting you to go from making a simple observation to complimenting his entire appearance, and he feels like he could faint again. play it cool, kakucho. 

“oh. i really just grew it out to kinda…,” he motions to his scar, “cover this up a little bit.” he has no idea why he even pointed out the one thing he doesn’t like to bring attention to. in his head, he is chasing around a little kakucho with a mallet, calling him stupid and spouting various threats.

you furrow your brows and tilt your head, and his heart melts a little. “why, though?” you question.

he doesn’t know what you mean, or what kind of answer you’re expecting. but ran told him once that girls don’t like sob stories, and rindou told him once that girls like honest guys. 

so he shrugs. “‘cause i know it’s not the easiest on the eyes.”

you frown a bit, and then smile sweetly. “well…i like it on you. it makes you look unique. in a good way.”

he blinks a few times, and his eyes grow ten times in size, seemingly in slow motion. 

“i’m sorry, did i upset you?” your eyes flicker between his, unsure if you had crossed a boundary.

“n-no!” he clears his throat, and deepens his voice a bit, “no. i just…i was just shocked, is all.”

“oh. well, don’t be. a handsome guy like you shouldn't be shocked to receive a compliment,” you laugh.

you’re trying to kill him, he thinks. before he can even begin to think of how to respond to that, you’re walking away to the table your friends are at. he sighs. well, consider her fumbled. can’t wait to hear what spectacular advice izana has for me this time. he turns around, prepared for the walk of shame back to his own table, but when he meets their eyes, izana is wearing a knowing smile, the haitanis are mouthing words he can’t recognize from this far and shaking their heads side to side, and shion is peeking his eyes out from between his fingers. kakucho has no idea what to make from those reactions, until he feels a light tap on his shoulder, and he spins around to see you. 

“trying to get away from me already?” you raise an eyebrow at him, who’s looking at you like you grew another head.

“wha- no! you– i…uh, i thought–” he cuts himself off when he hears your laugh again, and his body goes tense for the millionth time tonight when you reach up to pat your hand against his chest. 

“i’m just messing with you. talk to me more later, yeah?”

“yeah…for sure.” it comes out more breathily than he would’ve liked, but really, he feels lucky to still be standing right now. you take your hand off his chest and start to turn to walk back to your table. 

he blurts out your name, with no plan of what he’s going to say next. you look at him expectantly, “yeah?” shit. please, for the love of god, don’t fuck this up right now.

“by the way, you know, uh, for the record…you look pretty tonight…also.” he doesn't dare make eye contact with you until a few seconds after he finishes his sentence. to his relief, the look on your face isn’t one of unease or disgust. in fact, you look…bashful. happy, even. 

“thank you, kaku. you’re too sweet.” you flash him another sweet smile before you part ways with him.

he stands there for a few seconds, unmoving, trying to process what just happened. he doesn’t have a lot of time to think about it before he hears his name being called from the opposite direction, and his boys are waving him over with proud smiles on their faces. fuck. he cringes a bit remembering that they were watching the whole ordeal. 

on his return to the table, he gets four sturdy slaps on the back and about a million rapid fire questions coming from the haitanis and shion. 

“soooo? when’s the wedding? or the restraining order. i couldn’t really tell what was going on.” izana smacks shion on the back of the head. “ow– what the hell was that for?!”

that night, walking back to their respective homes, shion flings an arm around kakucho’s shoulder, much to his dismay. “I’m proud of you, man, i honestly thought you had, like, no rizz, and you kinda looked like a virgin out there–”

ran and rindou speak amongst themselves, “i know madarame is not talking about looking like a rizzless virgin right now.” “dude’s taken one too many hits to the cranium, brother.” 

“–eh?? what’s in your pocket?”

kakucho furrows his brow and he digs around in the pocket of his suit jacket, not recalling putting anything in there before he left. suddenly, he remembers the way your hand lingered over his chest, and he pulls out a napkin with a few blotches of red punch on the corner, unfolding it to see your name and number scribbled on it, followed by a messy little heart and a smiley face. a smirk stretches across his lips, and he turns the napkin around to the trio without a word. 

“mannnn, wipe that stupid smirk off your face, kakucho. you got no game, you just met a girl who’s charmed by losers.”

izana whips his head around. “shion. what did i tell you earlier? about rindou? hm?”  

shion’s arms flail around helplessly. “i’m not ruining shit!”

the haitanis roll their eyes and swat at him. “shut the fuck up shion!” “yeah man, at least he got her number, you’re still bitchless.” madarame mumbles something under his breath with a pout. 

kakucho can’t even pretend to care. the bickering goes right over his head as he’s typing your number into his phone with a soft smile, fully ready to redeem himself with the second chance you’ve so graciously given him.

dividers by @bunnysrph &lt;3

[mariacallous]

It's rough, and I need to refine it and do more work on it (I think I want to expand on some things more, because it both feels long and short), but here it is, for better or worse. Also, @notafain's sketch because I still think it's so neat and I love it.

As she adjusted to the unyielding firmness and cold of the shuttle deck (and grateful that her fur helped offset the latter at least), Solarna (better and more commonly known as Cipher Nine, the hardened and pragmatic top operative for the Sith Empire and of the former Imperial Intelligence, less commonly and privately nicknamed Shiv because of her proficiency with a vibroblade and the sharpness of her observation, and almost unknown as Legate the double agent working for the Republic) looked over at the man laying next to her after they finally finished ravaging each other and smiled softly before freezing. With a sickening lurch in her stomach, she realized she had been lying to herself for some time now, and that things had gone past fun to a place she’d never been before. Now that the passion of the moment had been sated, a stark clarity about what led to this moment cut through the past elisions. Theron Shan had not been like the usual fling. Even now, she ached to gently caress his temple and implants (if partly to better assess them and their potential origin), his nose, his lips; she felt slip a smile as she saw how mussed his hair had become in her grip. She could even see the now-faded pink traces where her nails had gotten enthusiastic with his skin. Her heart felt like it had been exposed on Hoth but her face burned like on Tatooine with embarrassment. She wasn’t some starry-eyed youngling barely out of the litter, in the flush of first romance. <Oh, aren’t you? Really, Agent, you’re normally much sharper about this sort of thing. You don’t yet see the connections?> With a grimace, Nine clenched her eyes shut. Of course, her internal voice (hiding behind the persona of Watcher X) chose now to speak up. But what connections? Wait…Watcher X…Quesh…breaking the conditioning…Black Codex…autonomy… “Oh stars,” she whispered. Ever since overcoming the castellan restraints and becoming independent, she’d become free of the previous limitations and influences or controls beyond what she had developed and chosen to retain. As close as she could get to free will and pre-Intelligence molding. Like a teenager. And so one of her biggest choices (composed of a thousand smaller steps, evasions, and leaps) had been to develop feelings for the man who was the closest to being her counterpart for the Republic. Theron Shan, SIS spy, former and soon to be current enemy. The worst possible option to be vulnerable to, and somehow the most natural result. As Nine let out a stabilizing exhale, her mind automatically and more fully mapping out the thread leading to this shatterpoint, Theron chose that moment to turn and face her, sleepily snuggling closer and pressing his face into her shoulder, his arm sliding over her waist and brushing against the scars  from her spinal implant surgery on Nar Shaddaa – Watcher X again, and how long ago it now feels – before pulling her closer and mumbling, the feeling of his lips and breath causing her skin to tingle and her fur to stand up a little. “’S nice, in spite of the shuttle and the Yavin jungle humidity.” “Least it’s not Manaan,” she managed to reply, before a small click locked the thread into place. Manaan, the first time we saw each other. Me, trying to escape that sinking death trap of a ruined lab after the Revanite leaders escaped. You, slicing remotely to aid that escape and snarking at the same time… And, in another of those steps, trying to hold off the inevitable separation and reversion to the status quo- (Theron: There’s no easy to way to say this, but we both knew this would have to end eventually You do know what this means, don’t you? Soon as we rejoin the fleet and make the jump to lightspeed, that’s it. No more truce. You and I…we probably won’t exchange another word ever again…) -she prolonged the moment and learned into the embrace, thinking back to that moment 2 minutes before crush depth.

[mysticmonkeybusiness]

Prompt: MK isnt the only one who has nightmares of LBD (featuring: Wukong and or Macaque); given by @visionaryscribe

-

The chill is comforting. The Champion is a reckless wildcard, but his Lady’s magic helps him keep a cool head and on target. The mission objectives have increased from one target to eight, but there’s nothing that will stop him from clearing his Lady’s path.

He Knows in his mind, body, and soul, that he needs to eliminate the threat. For the sake of the one behind him, for the future she will make reality, for the Good that she will bring to the world.

The Champion will crush all that stands in her way.

One of the targets spout nonsense, words slipping like molasses and body flickering with glamoured scars. Emotion bubbles up, searingly hot, but his Lady’s magic cools his own and once more settles the world to a sharp icy crystal. Soon the world will be reborn in frost. No more lies or darkness or pain tainting it.  

As it should be.

The enemy is tricky, but hardly a match for him. With overwhelming power he ruthlessly hurls them into the ground, only for his attention to be caught by another daring to look at his Lady defiantly. He doesn’t give the one on the ground another look. It’s neutralized for now, and the other is of greater priority.

He charges at it’s back, the words it’s speaking sounding more like they’re traveling through water than air.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Blood bursts from a gored back and as the warm liquid of life splatters across his face, he finally sees the target’s eyes as they look over their shoulder. Pain. Betrayal. Despair.

Wide hazel brown eyes stare at him, rapidly clouding over.

His hands are warm.

Wukong gasps as he doubles over, shivering despite the hot, muggy weather of Flower Fruit Mountain. Each breath is harder to grasp than his last so he gives up, forgoing it all together. The burning in his chest is comforting, goosebumps rising up beneath his fur from the lack of air. He grits his teeth, leaps to his feet, and starts pacing.

Immobility just reminds him of all that She took from him. His thoughts, his magic, his memories. So far he’s managed to keep just how deep under Her- her control he was, but the others don’t need to know how close their victory was.

MK doesn’t need to know how close it was. If he hadn’t managed to break free-

Wukong violently shakes his head and his tail lashes behind him, knocking several things to the ground that he really can’t care about right now. It doesn’t matter. They won. LBD was stopped. The world is safe. Everyone is safe.

The kid is safe.  

Sharp ringing makes Wukong shriek and throw himself onto a table, creating an even greater mess. The jingle of his show’s theme song finally registers and Wukong scrambles off the table to answer. There’s only two people who even know the number exists and he’s blocked the other one ages ago. Emails are much easier to ignore anyways.

“Monkey King!” MK’s sheepish voice comes through the moment he picks up, barreling right over his (nonexistent) attempt to say anything. “So like. A demon attacked and the shop’s a mess so I was wondering if we could have training be an hour later than usual. No- Half an hour? Twenty- Ten? Minutes? Please? What was I thinking, of course I’ve gotta-“

Wukong cuts him off before he can spiral, feeling fondly exasperated. “Bud, it’s fine. Take the day off, it sounds like you need it. You’ve been working pretty hard recently.” And it gives Wukong the perfect excuse to be alone for a while.

MK is quiet for a few seconds. “…Monkey King, are you okay? We never cancel training. We even trained in that massive storm three weeks ago.”

Nervous laughter escapes before he can stop it and Wukong coughs to cover it up. Infusing the words with as much confidence as he can muster, he says, “Nothing’s wrong. Just think you deserve to have some time to yourself, bud. Been meaning to tell you about it and this seems like a good time.”

And if it keeps the kid away until he can stop seeing his bloody back behind his eyelids, all the better.

“…If you’re sure…”

“Positive!” The smile feels fake, but he does his best to sound cheerful and fine. He’s fine. “Go have fun with the dragon girl. You’ve said you weren’t able to hang out with her recently.”

Playful exasperation and an audible smile comes through the call. “I know you know her name is-“

“Bye!” Wukong hangs up and shudders. He tosses the phone somewhere off to the side and falls into a meditation pose, pooling his scorching magic in his chest and praying it chases the frigid cold from his bones.

She’s gone and everyone is safe. The kid is safe. The kid is safe.

Wukong repeats the phrase, nearly chanting it as he sinks into light meditation. The chill lingers, but he lets the truth of that one phrase warm his heart. He holds it close, like a lifeline.

The kid is safe. Safe from him.

…Isn’t he?

Wukong shudders, the subzero cold clinging to his bones.

The Champion opens his eyes, determined not to have the vision his Lady shared with him come to pass. His Lady Will Not Die. He refuses to allow it.

He Knows what he must do.