#Not all at once. But slowly. Intermittently

[dreamlogic]

musing in the tags about the view two years out from my hysterectomy and the shifting nature of neuropathy. i asked my PT for recommendations/resources pertaining to pain science and that's been a very helpful lenses to have. i'm still not back to normal, will never be unmarked by this experience or return to my pre-op self, but my baseline has been gradually increasing over the last few months, and it feels good to look back on the last two years and say "i have no idea how i managed to function while living with that, but i did!"

[jymwahuwu]

-cw: yandere, dub-con, non-con, hypnosis, mind control, aventurine's eyes don't have such abilities in the official plot of course!!

Am I the only one who felt that Aventurine's eyes were like those of a Incubus while watching the plot…? Slowly approaching us and possibly hypnotizing us in the next second?

Your memory is intermittent, like an interrupted video or a lost film. You often woke up in different places and sore, but no matter how you thought about it, it was all a blank. It could be amnesia, but they all have one thing in common. You remember that you met Aventurine before each memory loss!

For hours you were not allowed any covering, just sitting on the Aventurine-sized dildo and rocking yourself. Your hands were clenched into small fists and placed in front of your chest. A small red love heart was always shining in your eyes, and you were obedient like a loyal and obedient puppy.

Aventurine is sitting in the rocking chair next to the bed, investing casually with the device in his hand. The credits in his account were like a roller coaster, plummeting all at once, then rising again as you squirted. He had a sly and mysterious smile on his face, admiring your gasps and desperation.

"I can't believe it!! IPC really should be shut down because of you!" were your last words before this lascivious session began. He stole your customers. You point in his face and rant about his dodgy business practices and contracts. You are too righteous. It is completely out of place in this profit-oriented business market in the universe.

Aventurine can only convince you to calm down…in his own way.

Hypnotizing you is really unexpectedly fun. Witnessing your expression gradually becoming emptier and then sticking out your tongue lustfully, he couldn't help but masturbate as a reward for you. Pushing you to spread your legs on the bed. He pushes his swollen, pre-cum-prone glans into your smooth insides. Your body was so frightened that the light in your eyes dimmed, then brightened again. You screamed in pleasure and bliss as you were being fucked-

"I-I'm sorry…!! Please allow me to cum!!"

Another spurt of semen filled you deeply. He didn’t forget to push a few more times to ensure penetration was complete before pulling out and looking down at you.

"Okay. You did a great job."

"After I breed you, you don't remember anything. You only remember that you had a comfortable dream, in which you had unimaginable blessings and heavenly pleasure."

"After I leave this room, you will get dressed obediently, go back to your room, and forget about these things."

"But you're going to come over at the same time tomorrow because you need me."

"That's all."

dividers @/cafekitsune

[fwibblefwobble]

Jason Todd loves a lazy Sunday morning.

He wakes with his cheek smushed against the pillow. Blinking slowly, he lifts his head to assess his situation. The first rays of morning peek through the weave of the curtains, dousing the bedroom in a soft glow. The comforter bunches around your bodies, insulating your shared warmth. His left arm dangles lazily from your midsection. Your slow, even puffs of breath warm his chest through the thin cotton of his sleep shirt. He tilts his chin to look down at you, and relaxes. You're snuggled close and safe in his arms, right where you should be. His head falls back against the pillow and he closes his eyes. For once, he allows himself the indulgence of falling back asleep.

The second time he wakes, the clock face reflects 10:36. You begin to stir from sleep, slipping your hand from his back to rub at your eyes. He yawns, exhaling the funk of morning breath right into your face. Your nose scrunches and you feign offense before doing the very same right back at him. He recoils playfully, swatting at the air in front of his face.

The two of you lay in bed for another five minutes before he pulls you up from the bed and into the bathroom. He smiles at the way toothbrushes lean against each other in their container. It's the first thing he looks for in the morning, small but tangible proof of the life you've built together. He needs them, sometimes - reminders of the life he's living, the reality he has trouble trusting. Little pinch-me's litter the bathroom: his razor next to your face wash on the counter, two pairs of bathroom slippers tucked neatly against the wall, the mingled medicine cabinet. He smiles at them all as he brushes his teeth next to you. The two of you make eye contact in the mirror and exchange sleepy grins, sudsy mouths and all. He hums contentedly when you rope him into your morning routine, dutifully rubbing in the various serums and creams you dab onto his face.

He follows you into the kitchen afterwards to perform your respective morning tasks. It's a mutual compromise: Jason decides food, and you decide beverage of the morning. Today calls for tea, you think, reaching for the tin of lapsang souchong in the pull-out drawer. The pan sizzles softly behind you and you turn, interested. The sight of Jason, bedheaded and domestic, makes your heart squeeze in your chest. You can't help but walk over and press a kiss between his shoulder blades on your way to fill the kettle. He turns, gesturing at you to kiss him proper before going about your way.

A comfortable silence hangs between the both of you as you eat, intermittently broken by the scraping of silverware and sounds of eating. Diffused sunlight warms your skin to a glow, swathing your body golden against the shadows of the apartment. Jason admires you over the tilt of his coffee mug. He loves you like this, tousled and swallowed by your sleep shirt. He loves watching you eat the food he makes you. It helps him reconcile with the hands that made it, that they’re still capable of loving and nurturing despite the brutal take, take, take of his night job. You catch his stare and slow your chews, swallowing.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just lookin’ at you.”

“Something on my face?” You brush off the sides of your mouth.

“No, dumbass. I just think you’re pretty.”

You blink, your brain lagging in a response to dumbass and pretty said in succession.

Your face reflects your hesitation, and he laughs. He takes the opportunity to reach for your hand, kissing the inside of your palm and cupping his face. The display warms your heart and numbs your retort. You exhale through your nose, quirking your lips. It’s impossible to be miffed at him when he blinks slowly at you with those stupidly gorgeous eyes, blue and gleaming with mirth like burnished sea glass. He flutters his eyelashes at you, and all your remaining fight acquiesces.

“Was there anything you wanted to do today?”

He hums, considering. His head shakes no.

“Lazy day in, then?”

His head tilts, interested.

“What do you have in mind?” he asks.

“Well… we could finally do that read-a-thon thing we’ve been wanting to do for a while.”

You pause, considering. “I read your favorite, you read mine, and we can live react to each other?”

His face splits into a wide grin. “Deal.”

The rest of the day is spent on the couch with his head on your lap and a book in his hands. You mirror him in an upright position, fingers threading lazily through his hair in between flipping pages. Every so often, you look down at your hulking lap cat of a boyfriend to check in. Each time, you find contentment resting soft and easy on his face. Your heart squeezes with affection, proud of the little slice of heaven you’ve carved out of his day off.

Peace looks good on him, you think.

[yannawayne]

iii. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Gunshot wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

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“Repeat that,” he said, his voice tight.

A wave of stunned stares passed around the table. Tim quickly typed something on his laptop, his fingers moving with practiced speed. He then turned the screen around for everyone to see. The headline on the screen read:

“Wayne-Stark Feud Escalates: Damian Wayne’s Girlfriend Takes Top Honors in Stark Industries’ Prestigious Young Innovators Program”

Dick’s eyes widened in surprise, and Jason whistled again, this time in genuine admiration. 

“Well, damn. She really knocked it out of the park.”

Bruce’s expression shifted to a frown.

 ༻⊰───⋅

GOTHAM WAS BEAUTIFUL. The city's lights stretched out below you like a glittering sea, each pinprick of light a mesmerizing dance of color and shadow. The towering, sleek skyscrapers stood tall and proud, their glass facades reflecting a mosaic of neon hues and starlight. Between them, narrow alleys wove like dark veins through the city's heart, their secrets hidden from view. The flicker of billboards and the intermittent flash of police sirens were the rapid, erratic beats, sudden bursts that pierced the otherwise steady thrum of urban life.

Even from above, the city's heartbeat was loud, a living, breathing entity that pulsed with a desperate rhythm. No matter how one might describe it or what reasons one might offer, you found Gotham to be beautiful. Even now, despite the terror you felt in the moment.

From the shadows, Selina's gaze was sharp, her helmet reflecting the fragmented light of the city. She leaned casually against the metal railing, watching you carefully.

You took a deep breath, the cool, crisp air stinging your lungs and sharpening your senses. Every muscle in your body tensed as you focused on the edge of the building. The drop was dizzying, a thousand feet of dark emptiness that seemed to call out to you with both a thrilling invitation and a stark warning.

"All it takes is a leap of fate," Selina’s voice cut through the wind. 

Once you jumped, there was no turning back. It was a point of no return, a decision that would define the trajectory of your night and perhaps your life. 

"That's all it takes."

Her words echoed in your mind, mingling with the roar of the wind and the hum of the city. Slowly, you moved, your foot pressing forward until you were on the side of the building. The glass beneath you felt like a lifeline, each shift of your weight sending a jolt of adrenaline through your veins.

A leap of fate.

With one final, steadying breath, you adjusted your stance, your legs bending in preparation.

And then, with the night sky as your backdrop and Gotham as your stage, you leaped. The glass shattered beneath your feet, a shower of fragments raining down as you soared into the void. The world below rushed up to meet you, the sensation of falling merging with the thrill of flight.

For a fleeting moment, you were suspended between sky and earth.

Then you reached out with a steady hand, launching your web into the night.

THWIP.

The web shot upward, a silken thread connecting you to the distant skyscraper. In an instant, you were soaring through the air, the rush of wind against your face and Gotham a blur of lights below.

You were flying. 

Swinging through the city, you rushed past streets and towering buildings. People looked up in awe, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights as they followed your form.

You shot up and soared past the metro tracks, the rhythmic clatter of trains below blending with the distant hum of the city. Each swing carried you further, higher, and faster, weaving through the urban landscape with the freedom of flight. 

Gotham unfolded before you, a sprawling playground, and for a brief, exhilarating moment, you were unstoppable.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday, 2:32PM - Chemistry Lab, Gotham Academy.

A Few Months Later.

Over the past few months, you had quickly settled into your role as Spidey. The initial buzz of your debut had faded, leaving you working in Gotham's shadows. You were recognized by locals and criminals but had yet to make a significant impact on the city's larger stage. The occasional mention in articles was nice, but it mostly felt like a footnote compared to Gotham's big-name heroes.

Headlines were dominated by the likes of Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, and Robin. They were the ones who made the news, while you were still working your way up from the minor leagues.

In the beginning, Damian—Robin—seemed to have made it his personal mission to keep tabs on you. You’d spotted him a few times, lurking in the shadows with those white lenses glaring at you like he was waiting for you to mess up. It was almost amusing, if not a bit intimidating. It felt like he was waiting for you to do something spectacularly dumb, just so he could swoop in.

But as time went on, it became clear you weren’t exactly shaking up Gotham’s chaos. Your focus was on street-level crimes, dealing with the petty crooks and local thugs who didn’t warrant much more than a scowl from the bigger players. Damian, realizing you were more of a nuisance than a game-changer, gradually eased off. It was like you’d been demoted from “potential problem” to “minor annoyance,” and with that realization, he redirected his attention to Gotham’s bigger, more pressing issues.

And well, it was fine. You played the part of the neighborhood’s friendly Spidey with ease, dishing out smiles and saving the day. On the surface, everything seemed under control. But beneath the mask, a different story brewed. Restlessness gnawed at you, a persistent itch you couldn’t quite scratch.

The city’s shadows felt darker these days, more oppressive. You’d heard the whispers and seen the signs—Black Mask was back, and he was even more violent than before. 

It was like he was putting on a show just for you, as if he was daring you to do something more, to be more. 

Welcome to the Hotel California Such a lovely place (such a lovely place) Such a lovely face Plenty of room at the Hotel California Any time of year (any time of year) You can find it here—

Your music is abruptly cut off when your earbuds are yanked from your ears. You groan and turn, only to find Morgan smirking at you, casually swinging your earbuds between her fingers.

Over the past few months, you and Morgan had grown incredibly close—best friends, if you would call it that. Morgan’s hair was now cropped into a short pixie cut, and her wardrobe seemed to be mirroring yours more and more. Whether this influence was good or not was still up for debate in your mind.

“Asshat, give those back!” you snarl, reaching for the earbuds.

Morgan just smirks and leans out of your reach. “Oh, come on. What’s got you so pissy today?”

You groan and slump into your seat, burying your face in your jacket. “Just a lot on my mind. Ugh. I want to go home.”

“You’ve been in a funk for days. What’s up? You’re acting like the world’s about to implode.”

You roll your eyes, not bothering to look up. “It might as well. Things are getting insane out there.”

“It’s Gotham,” Morgan shrugs, tossing your earbuds back. You catch them with one hand and stuff them into your pocket. “Thought you’d be used to this crap by now.”

“I am used to it, but what’s that supposed to do, Starky?” You roll your eyes again, and Morgan grimaces at the nickname. “Am I just supposed to dance it away? Pretend everything’s okay when it’s clearly not?”

Morgan’s eyes narrow, and she gives you a hard stare. “Look, I get it. Shit’s messed up. But moping around isn’t gonna fix anything.”

You sigh and lean over your finished worksheet, erasing some of the leftover pencil scribbles. “It’s easy for you to say. You live in a penthouse with a view of the city. For you, it’s like Gotham’s just a playground.”

Morgan raises an eyebrow, a sly grin creeping onto her face. “Well, if you’re so stressed, maybe you need a little pampering. I could always offer to be your sugar mommy.”

You snort, shaking your head with a small chuckle. “You'd go broke trying to pay for my therapy. Gotham’s therapists charge extra for dealing with our kind of crazy. Hell. One of them literally became a villain herself.”

“Oh, come on," Morgan’s grin widens as she leans closer. "You’ve already got a sugar daddy anyway, don’t you? Damian’s practically a walking trust fund.”

“Had to secure my future,” you grin back, leaning over her side of the table. You point to one problem on her worksheet, circling a mistake with your pencil. “By the way, you got that wrong.”

Morgan looks down, eyes widening in surprise. “Damn. I thought I had that down. You’re really good at this.”

“Weeks of practice and 3AM cramming sessions,” you say with a shrug, leaning back in your seat. “It’s nothing.”

Morgan seems to think for a moment before glancing back at you. “Speaking of securing your future, have you ever thought about applying for an internship? I know a spot at Stark Industries that’s opening up soon.”

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in your tone. “Stark Industries? Your dad's company? Why would I want to go there? Isn’t that where all the corporate rivalries come into play?”

“Not all of them," Morgan laughs, shaking her head. "I get it, though. There’s definitely some bad blood between the Waynes and the Starks. But this internship could be a game-changer for you. You’d get real experience, and it’d look impressive on your CV.”

You hum, your fingers drumming on the table. “I don’t know. Damian might maul me.”

Morgan rolled her eyes and nudged you playfully. "Come on, just think about it. It's a great opportunity, and I'd be there to make sure you don't get lost in the corporate jungle. If you're going to be Damian's trophy wife, you need to get used to dealing with this stuff. Who knows, you might actually enjoy it."

You sigh, considering her offer. “Alright, I’ll think about it. But no promises. Things are a bit... chaotic right now.”

Morgan nods, clearly understanding. “Fair enough. Just keep it in mind. It could be a real game-changer for you.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep it on the list,” you say, managing a small smile.

Class ends and you both gather your things, making your way into the hallway. The corridor is a chaotic swirl of students, their chatter and footsteps echoing off the lockers and tiled floors. Damian is leaning against your locker, his usual stony expression slightly marred by an air of impatience as he waits for you.

Morgan, walking beside you, suddenly reaches out and gives your ass a playful slap. You yelp in surprise, causing Damian to straighten up and cast a sharp, puzzled look at Morgan, who just grins mischievously.

“What the fuck,” you laugh, shoving Morgan lightly.

“Call me if you need anything, alright? And don’t keep me waiting too long,” Morgan smirks. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment, then shifts to Damian, who’s watching her with a fiery, barely disguised jealousy. She turns and strolls away, Damian glaring daggers into the back of her head like he’s trying to burn a hole through it.

“Later!” she calls over her shoulder with a wave, her grin as smug as a cat who’s just pissed in your shoe. 

You walk up towards Damian, moving a hand to squeeze at his bicep. “Dames, are you okay?”

“She’s quite forward, isn’t she?” he murmurs, placing a hand over yours.

“She’s my best friend. Just loves to mess with me,” you snort. Standing on your tiptoes, you lean in and press a quick, affectionate kiss against his cheek. “And don’t worry, I’m all yours—no matter how much she tries to steal me away.”

Damian’s scowl softens slightly, though a trace of irritation still lingers in his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today."

He pushes himself off your locker with a subtle sigh. His gaze flickers with a hint of hesitation before he clears his throat and turns his full attention to you.

“Would you care to join my family for dinner tonight?” he asks, shifting on his feet. “I’m planning to take the night off from patrol. It’s been far too long since we’ve had some time together. You could stay the weekend if you’d like.”

You hesitate, your mind occupied with your own plans. “Thanks for the offer, Damian, but I’ve got a lot to catch up on at home. I’m really looking forward to a quiet night there.”

Home being the safehouse. Quiet being patrol. You wanted to kick some ass tonight.

Damian’s face visibly falls, his nose scrunching up in disappointment.

“Oh,” he says, his voice dropping slightly. “I see. I guess I should have expected that,” he adds, his attempt at indifference coming off as strained.

He shifts his stance, straightening as if to regain his composure, but a subtle downturn of his lips betrays his frustration. “Are you sure you can’t spare a moment? I thought we might enjoy some uninterrupted time together.”

You shake your head gently and smile as you smooth your hand through his hair, fixing the few stray strands that have gone askew. “I really have to go. There’s too much on my plate right now, and Mom wants me back early.”

Damian turns his head to the side, gently batting your hand away before reaching up to fix his own hair, running his fingers through it. His shoulders slump, and he clenches his jaw, clearly struggling to hide his disappointment. “Fine. If you have to put other things ahead of spending time with me, I guess there’s nothing more to be said.”

You notice the strain in his posture and chuckle, reaching out to squeeze his arms. “I’ll see you soon. Promise.”

Damian’s eyes soften a little as you lean in and press a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips. His eyes close momentarily, long lashes brushing against his cheeks.

When you pull back, Damian’s gaze meets yours, a touch warmer than before.

“Very well,” he says, his voice dropping to a softer, more tender tone. “I’ll be waiting for your call tonight.”

You offer a reassuring smile, then turn and head off, feeling his gaze on you until you blend into the crowd. Damian watches you go, the tension in his posture easing as he takes a deep breath. With a frustrated huff, he reaches for his car keys and makes his way to the parking lot, grumbling to himself.

He'll make sure to lift extra hard tonight.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday, 8:32PM - Personal Gym, Wayne Manor.

The gym at Wayne Manor is bathed in a subdued, moody light that stretches long shadows across the polished floors and sleek, high-tech equipment. The air is thick with the lingering scent of sweat, mingling with the low hum of an overworked air conditioner trying—and failing—to keep up with the rising heat. 

Damian stands in front of the deadlift bar, wrapping straps around his wrists with a practiced grip. His rough hands pull the straps tight, the material digging into his skin as he secures them. He flexes his fingers, feeling the familiar tension in his muscles.

Please could you stop the noise? I'm tryna get some rest From all the unborn chicken Voices in my head What's that? (I may be paranoid, but not an android) What's that? (I may be paranoid, but not an android)

Music thunders through his headphones, creating a personal soundscape that drowns out the rest of the world. He's dressed in black sweats and a black hoodie, both soaked through with sweat. 

Bending down, he grips the bar, his knuckles turning white. With a powerful grunt, he starts the lift. The barbell, loaded with an impressive weight, rises steadily. Damian’s face contorts with the effort as he concentrates on keeping his breathing steady and controlled. 

Sweat beads on his forehead, and damp strands of hair fall over his molten eyes, clinging to his skin. Normally, Damian keeps his hair cut short, maintained to match his routine. But lately, his schedule has been packed, and his bangs have grown longer than usual. He grits his teeth, pushing through the lift, doing his best to ignore the annoying feel of hair brushing against his sweat-slicked face.

CLANG!

After a few seconds, Damian drops the bar with a resounding crash that echoes through the gym, the metal slamming against the floor and ringing off the walls. His headphones slip off his ears, falling onto the floor. With a sharp, frustrated snap, he flings his weight belt aside; the leather slaps the ground with a solid thud. Letting out an irritated scoff, he breathes heavily, his anger evident in each exhale.

In another corner of the gym, Tim is deep into his calisthenics routine, his body moving fluidly as he pulls himself up on the bar. His back muscles ripple with each movement, sweat glistening on his skin. He casts a curious glance toward Damian, his eyebrow arching at the loud crash.

“Not joining Bruce for patrol tonight?” Tim calls out.

Damian, clearly irked, casts a sidelong glance at Tim. “Grayson and Todd are out, as is Batwoman. They are more than capable of handling themselves. Unlike certain individuals I could name.”

Tim, ignoring the jab, looks at him with wide-eyed disbelief. “Seriously?”

“I have a life outside of Robin,” Damian retorts. “Unlike you, who seems to think that withering in front of the Batcomputer is the epitome of existence.”

Tim, rolling his eyes, sneers, “You’re just being a jackass because you’re stuck here sulking. It’s like I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

Damian’s scowl deepens. “It’s about clearing my head. Sometimes pushing myself physically helps with... other stuff.”

For most of them, working out is just a way to blow off steam or handle their emotions. Damian’s go-to routines are cardio and weights—anything that lets him channel his inner rage and frustration into something productive. Tonight, though, he’s taking it to another level.

Tim heads over to the water dispenser, his footsteps light as he moves. As he passes Damian, he delivers a playful but firm punch to Damian’s arm—not hard enough to cause real pain, but definitely with some intent. Damian scowls, rubbing his arm and shooting Tim a sharp look.

“Whatever works, I guess,” Tim shrugs, taking a chug from his water bottle. His Adam's apple bobs with the effort as he swallows.

“Patrols have been a washout the past few days,” Damian murmurs, wrapping his knuckles as he prepares for a boxing session. “I doubt anything of importance is going to happen.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 1:04 AM - Queens District, Gotham City.

"WOO!"

The night breeze rushes past you, a cool whisper against your face as you spin through the Gotham skyline. Below, the city sprawls in a chaotic mosaic of flickering lights and deep shadows. You glide through the air, the fabric of your suit rustling softly in the wind. Beneath you, the streets are a patchwork of cobblestones and cracked asphalt, each corner a reminder of where you’ve fought, protected, and survived.

Tonight is unusually slow. A surprise considering the area you patrol is a district near Crime Alley.

The vicinity around Queens in rundown Gotham, urbanized but not as bustling as the busier business districts, usually teems with activity. The area, close to the docks, is a maze of clustered buildings and the occasional factory, their smokestacks cutting dark silhouettes against the night sky.

The distant hum of machinery from the factories blends with the occasional sound of waves lapping against the docked ships. From your vantage point, you can see the bridge stretching out in the distance, its lights twinkling against the darkness.

Just as you start to think the night might pass without incident, you hear a distant commotion—a series of hollers and shouts echoing through the narrow streets. Your eyes narrow as you scan the area, searching for the source of the disturbance.

Then you spot her: a woman sprinting frantically down the street, her cries of terror slicing through the night air. Her short-cut hair whips around her face, and her wide eyes reflect sheer panic. Hot on her heels, a group of men give chase, their grotesque laughter bubbling up from their throats like a pack of pigs rooting through garbage.

Your heart skips a beat as recognition slams into you. 

It’s Morgan.

Wait—what the hell is she doing here?

Morgan, who has no business being anywhere near this part of town—especially not at this hour—stands out like a sore thumb. She lives miles away in the heart of the city, far removed from this grim neighborhood near Crime Alley. Queens Street feels like a different world compared to her usual haunts.

Without hesitation, you dive down from the rooftop, landing with a thud that cuts through the night’s tension like a knife. The sudden appearance of your figure causes an immediate hush.

"Hey, kid! Stay behind me," you call out, changing your voice to sound deeper. "I’ve got this covered."

Morgan, clearly relieved but still visibly shaken, nods and takes a step back, her trust in you evident despite the fear in her eyes. 

Cracking your knuckles, you address the would-be assailants.

"Gentlemen," you say, “Shall we resolve this quickly, or do you wanna continue your charade?"

One of them sneers, “Look who decided to crash the party. Here to play hero?”

You tilt your head, scratching at your neck. “Wow, I must be slacking if I’m getting an invite to parties like this. But hey, if you’re offering free entertainment, who am I to refuse?”

THWIP.

With a swift flick of your wrist, you shoot a web at one of the thugs, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying up to dangle from a nearby street lamp. He struggles and curses as he hangs there, the webbing holding him securely.

Another thug charges in, swinging a crude metal pipe. You leap over him effortlessly, grabbing the pipe mid-air and twirling it like a baton. “Wow, talk about a swing and a miss. I’d say better luck next time, but I’m not really into giving second chances.”

"Whoop!" You deliver a swift kick to his side, sending him sprawling into a nearby alley. He crashes into a heap of garbage with a muffled thud. 

The remaining thugs, now visibly annoyed, glance at each other, clearly weighing their options. One of them, the largest and most boisterous of the group, musters up some bravado. He cracks his knuckles and sneers, “You think you’re funny, huh? I’ll show you funny!”

You raise an eyebrow and sigh dramatically. “Oh, come on. Don’t you want to have a nice chat?” You flick your wrist and a web shoots out, sticking over his mouth. “There you go! Now we can all enjoy some quiet time.”

He charges at you with a muffled, bull-like roar, but you easily sidestep, letting him stumble past. As he tries to regain his balance, you shoot a web at his feet, yanking him back and sending him crashing into a stack of wooden pallets. The crates topple over with a loud clatter, and he ends up sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain.

!!!

Your senses tingles just in time. Another thug lunges at you with a wild swing, and you catch his fist mid-air, twisting his arm with a practiced flick. Using his own momentum, you deliver a sharp uppercut that sends him reeling backward. He crashes against a nearby wall, dazed and disoriented. Quickly, you shoot a web at him, pinning him against the wall.

The last thug, now clearly outmatched, takes a step back, his form shaking. “You’re not worth it,” he mutters, raising his hands in surrender.

You laugh and walk over to him with a thumbs up. “That’s the best decision you’ve made all night.”

You shoot a web at his feet, pinning him in place. “Why don’t you just sit tight and enjoy the show? I’m sure the boys in blue will be along shortly.”

With the thugs now subdued and securely webbed up, you turn to Morgan, who’s watching with wide eyes. She lets out a shaky breath, clearly relieved.

“You know,” you say slowly, deepening your voice, “I didn’t expect to see Tony Stark’s daughter in a place like this. What’s the story?”

“Oh. Oh, you… know who I am,” Morgan says, catching her breath and chuckling weakly. “Well, I was just out for a... walk, and I made a wrong turn. Next thing I know, I’m being chased by a bunch of guys.”

"Uh-huh," you say, shaking your head with a hint of disbelief, the slits of your mask narrowing as you scrutinize her. "You’ve got a real knack for picking your strolls. Queens is kind of a crime magnet, you know. And you, being as famous as you are, might as well have a bullseye on your back. Just saying."

Morgan’s expression shifts to embarrassment, red flushing her cheeks. “Yeah, I know. I actually came here to meet someone about some tech. You know, to see if I could get my hands on something... a bit more... advanced.”

You raise an eyebrow, perplexed. “Advanced tech? You’re like... Tony Stark’s daughter. You have more tech at your disposal than most governments. Are you sure it's not drugs?”

"I am not a crackhead!" Morgan scowls and sends you a glare. “Sometimes, it’s not just about having access. It’s about finding unique pieces or... getting a better deal. Plus, sneaking out to do something on my own—well, it’s a bit of an adventure.”

You chuckle, shaking your head in disbelief.

"Teenage angst? Really?"

"Where’s the fun in having everything handed to you on a silver platter?" Morgan smirks. "A little thrill never hurt anyone.”

You just wave a hand at her, shaking your head again. “Fair point. Just please try not to make it a habit of going out at night alone. You uh... got a ride home?"

Morgan licks her lips, her expression thoughtful. "Guess... Guess I could call my dad."

You nod, giving her a thumbs up. "Good idea. And remember, if you ever find yourself in a pinch again, don’t hesitate to call for help. I patrol Queens. Just... don't make this a habit."

Morgan lets out a chuckle, her nerves easing. “I’ll do my best. Thanks for the rescue.”

With that, you turn and leap into the night, your form quickly vanishing into the darkness as you swing away. A sudden tingle on the back of your neck makes you glance back, but you see Morgan still standing there, her gaze fixed on where you disappeared. 

You brush off the feeling—must have been a false alarm.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 3:18 AM - Queens District, Gotham City.

After a few hours, you decide it’s time to call it a night. Returning to your warehouse, you strip off your suit and slip into civilian clothes. Stepping out into the dimly lit streets, you keep your head low and your pace casual, blending seamlessly into the nocturnal cityscape. Gotham's alleys and shadows are no place for the spotlight, and drawing attention could be dangerous. Here, the key to staying safe is blending in—letting the city's dark corners swallow you up.

You pull out your phone and dial Damian’s number. Sure, you can handle yourself, but right now, you're out in your civilian identity. Better to play it safe.

Na-Na-Na-Na-Na-Na-Na-Na…Batman!

The Batman ringtone echoes softly in the alley, its familiar chime cutting through the muted sounds of the city. You can’t help but smile at the stupid thing—the Batman brand (made without Batman's permission) has become so popular that it’s practically a commercial empire. Bruce, of course, loathes it. He's filed at least twenty lawsuits trying to shut it down, but the brand keeps growing.

There’s even Robin merch, which you’ve collected obsessively over the years, much to Damian’s embarrassment. He’s never quite gotten used to his persona being reduced to a collectible item, but your enthusiasm for it is well-known.

After a few rings, Damian picks up, his voice steady and unmistakable. “Habibti?”

“Hey, Dames,” you reply, keeping your tone light. “Just checking in. How’s everything on your end?”

There’s a brief pause, and you can almost hear the faint rustle of paper or fabric in the background before he responds. “Everything’s fine. Just buried in homework. Why are you calling so late?”

You detect the edge of concern in his voice, and it makes you smile. “Oh, just heading home. Got a bit wrapped up with some errands. Didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”

Damian’s tone sharpens, his concern clearly growing. “Errands? At this hour? Gotham isn’t exactly a walk in the park after dark. Why are you out alone? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is?”

“I’m fine, Damian," you reply, sidestepping a wet puddle on the street. "Just a few things I needed to take care of. I’m heading home now, so no worries.”

“You shouldn’t be out so late, especially not alone,” he insists, his voice taking on that familiar stern tone. “Do you realize how many things can go wrong? You could be in grave danger..”

“I promise, I’m being careful," you assure him. "I’ll be home soon. Just wanted to check in and let you know I’m okay.”

Damian doesn’t relent. “Fine. But stay on the line until you’re home. I need to know you’re safe.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you tease lightly. “But okay, I’ll stay on the line.”

There’s a soft huff from him, as though he’s trying to suppress a smile. “Good. And, for the record, I’m not being dramatic. I’m being cautious.”

“Whatever you say,” you reply, your tone light. “By the way, are you free tomorrow? There’s this new comic shop I wanted to check out.”

Damian perks up at that. 

Finally.

It’s been weeks since you’ve had the chance to enjoy a proper date. The usual routines—dinner out, a movie, or just hanging out—have been squeezed out by the demands of Gotham. Damian felt the lack more than he’d like to admit. He’s missed them—missed you. 

“Yes, I’m available," he says, almost too quickly. He doesn't want to seem overly eager, but the anticipation is hard to hide. "I’ll make time and pick you up. What time, beloved?"

“How about noon?” you suggest, swinging your keys lightly as you approach your apartment building. “That should give us plenty of time to explore the shop and maybe grab lunch afterward.”

You reach your apartment building and slip inside, the familiar creak of the door signaling your return. Glancing around to make sure no one's watching, you crouch and bound up the flight of stairs in quick, powerful jumps, reaching your floor in mere seconds.

Heading down the hallway, you adjust your phone and catch the end of Damian’s statement just in time.

“—I’ll be there at noon,” Damian confirms, the warmth in his voice unmistakable.

“Great,” you smile as you fumble with the lock. The sound of the key turning in the door echoes softly in the quiet hallway. You let out a sigh of relief as you finally open the door, stepping into the comforting familiarity of your home.

"I'm looking forward to it,” you continue, kicking off your shoes and setting them neatly by the door. “I’m home now, by the way! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

On the other end, Damian’s voice comes through the phone, warm and laced with the faintest hint of affection. “I shall see you then,” he replies, his care evident even through the small, digital speaker. “Goodnight, beloved.”

There’s a moment of silence as his words linger.

“Goodnight,” you reply softly, letting the warmth of his voice settle before you slowly lower the phone from your ear.

You slip your phone into your pocket and step into your living room, where the soft glow of the television fills the room. A Filipino drama plays on the screen, its melodramatic dialogue and heartfelt scenes subtitled in English. The rest of the room is shrouded in dimness, with only the flickering light of the TV breaking through the darkness.

As you make your way towards the kitchen, you notice Selina perched on a bar stool at the counter. She’s cradling a steaming cup of coffee, its rich aroma wafting through the air. Her gaze lifts to meet yours as you enter, curiosity etched across her features.

“You’re home a lot later than usual, honey,” she comments.

You pour yourself a glass of water, the quiet clink of the glass against the faucet a small comfort. You sit down across from her, the chair creaking slightly under your weight. “Yeah, it’s been one of those nights. I wrapped up patrol and ended up dealing with some trouble. Nothing major, though. But I did run into someone.”

Selina takes a slow sip of her coffee. “Who?”

“Morgan,” you say with a grim look. “She was out in Queens on some sort of tech hunt. Had to give her a little lecture about roaming Gotham alone.”

 “The redhead? That’s definitely unusual. What was she after?”

“She was hunting for some tech—apparently, even with the best gadgets at her disposal, she thought Gotham had something special,” you explain.

Selina chuckles, shaking her head. “Typical Stark. Always chasing the next shiny thing. Did you know her dad’s been trying to worm his way with the Bats lately?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really?”

Selina takes a sip of her coffee, her expression bemused. “He’s been throwing money at them, trying to fund their operations. He’s got this obsessive need to upgrade superhero tech. Batman’s been turning him down flat. I guess his ego took a hit.”

You laugh, taking a swig of your water. “Can you imagine Tony Stark trying to ‘help’ Batman?”

“If those two could ever check their egos long enough to actually collaborate, it’d be a miracle,” she scoffed. 

“Speaking of which,” you say, dumping your cup back into the sink, “on a scale of one to ten, how much do you think Damian or Bruce would freak out if I accepted Morgan’s invitation for a Stark internship?”

Selina’s grin widens. “Oh, honey, that’s a show I’d pay to see. Damian would hit a 100 on the scale of overreaction. Bruce might be a bit more restrained, but he’d definitely hit an 11.”

You roll your eyes with a laugh. “Lovely. Just what I need.”

Selina chuckles, shaking her head. “Remember when Bruce tried to offer you an internship? The look on his face when you turned him down was priceless.”

A twinge of awkwardness settles over you, and you rub the back of your neck. “Yeah, that was... something. It’s like he had this whole script for how he wanted the conversation to go, and when it didn’t, he kind of just... froze.”

Selina’s gaze softens a bit. “He thinks of you like family. And with you and Damian getting serious, he’s probably bracing himself for the long haul.”

You groan as you push yourself off the sink and head toward your room. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Because it’s true!”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 12:03 PM - Empire Comics, Gotham City.

RING.

The bell above the door jingles as you and Damian step into the bustling comic shop. The aroma of ink, paper, and coffee fills the air, blending with the hum of excited conversations and the occasional laugh.

You’re sporting a casual look: a red cap with a Robin symbol on it, jeans, a white Batman shirt, and Damian’s soccer jacket draped over your shoulders. Damian is clad in his usual fit—a dark turtleneck, crisp cream pants, and black boots. He looks every bit the model for a high-fashion magazine, even in a comic shop.

The walls are lined with shelves packed full of colorful comic books and graphic novels. Display cases highlight rare editions and collector’s items, their glass gleaming under the shop’s lights. You’re in your element, eyes wide as you scan the rows, your fingers brushing the spines of the comics. 

Grabbing one off the shelf, you flip it over with a grin, admiring the glossy cover. It’s an edition you’ve been eyeing for a while—a real gem.

“Do you want that?” Damian asks, his eyes flickering from the comic in your hands to your face. There’s a sharpness in his gaze, as if he's trying to dissect you with his eyes.

You nod, barely containing your excitement. “Definitely. It’s one of the limited editions I’ve been after.” You flip the comic over, eyes lingering on the price as you clutch it a little tighter.

Without a beat, Damian reaches for his wallet. “Let me handle it.”

A protest rises in your throat, but Damian cuts you off with a look that could freeze lava. His scowl deepens. “No arguments. It’s a treat for today.”

You open your mouth to argue, but Damian swiftly pulls the hood of your jacket over your eyes. “If you keep insisting on paying, I’ll just take back my jacket.”

“What?!” you hiss, instinctively clutching the jacket closer around you. “No way! You don’t even wear this.”

“Precisely. Which means I can reclaim it as a bargaining chip.” Damian’s lips curl into a smirk, smug satisfaction dripping from his voice. “Now, if you don’t let me handle this, the jacket’s going back to my closet. I suggest you reconsider.”

It takes a few more minutes of his gentle but insistent threats, before you finally give up. As he heads to the counter, you glance around the shop, taking in the array of comics and collectibles.

A newspaper rack catches your attention. The headline boldly reads:

“Spidey Foils Attack on Morgan Stark: Hero Swings in to Save the Day”

Damian returns shortly after, handing you the paper bag with a triumphant smirk. You beam at him, leaning in to press a kiss on his cheek. Damian hums at your affection, wrapping an arm around you to keep you close. 

Emerald eyes flick to the newspaper on the rack, his expression shifting slightly. 

“Stark was in an altercation?” he asks, his voice carrying a note of disbelief. He leans closer, the scent of freshly printed ink mixing with the rich, smoky aroma of his cologne.

You glance at the newspaper, the pages rustling softly as you turn them to face him. “Looks like it. It’s been a while since I saw a headline like this. Spidey doesn’t get as much press as you guys do.”

“Speaking of Morgan,” you say slowly, deciding it’s time to rip off the bandage. You lean against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through the fabric of your jacket. “I was actually thinking about applying for an internship at Stark Industries. It could be a great opportunity, you know? She’s offered me a spot.”

The moment the words leave your lips, Damian’s expression shifts from casual interest to a full-blown scowl. His lips curl back, revealing a flash of teeth, and the muscle of his jaw rolls beneath bronze skin.

“Wayne Industries is far superior.”

Rolling your eyes, you allow a hint of amusement to creep into your voice. “Oh. I know. But Morgan’s offering me a spot. And honestly, it could be a huge opportunity.”

Damian’s eyes narrow, frustration evident in his voice. “I’ve offered you spots and programs at Wayne Industries before. Why accept hers but not mine?”

You deadpan. “I’m your girlfriend. They’d just see me as a nepotism hire.”

Damian grumbles in response, his expression darkening as he reaches for the newspaper. His fingers brush against the glossy paper with a soft rustle, and his gaze locks onto the photo of your vigilante form, captured mid-swing through the city. The image is dynamic, full of motion and energy, but Damian’s eyes narrow as he scrutinizes it.

You shift on your feet, the squeak of your Converse against the floor drawing his attention. Trying to break the tension, you clear your throat. “So,” you begin, your tone light but with a hint of curiosity, “have you ever encountered Spidey on the job?”

Damian’s expression hardens at the mention. His lips thin into a line, and a look of disapproval settles over his features. 

“The Spider?” he scoffs “From what I’ve seen, they’re nothing more than an amateur.”

You feel a pang of offense at his harsh words but manage to keep your expression carefully neutral. “Really? I’ve heard they’ve done some impressive things.”

Damian’s emerald eyes lock onto yours, the frustration behind them clear as day. “Impressive?” he retorts, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “If you consider reckless behavior and a complete lack of tact impressive, then sure. But to me, it’s far from professional.”

Ouch. That was expected, but it still stung.

“Everyone has their own style,” you say, your eyes fixed on the floor as you run your tongue over your lips. “What might seem clumsy to one person could be strategic for someone else.”

“Strategic?” Damian spits out in a laugh. The newspaper crumples under his grip. “Their approach is more about spectacle than substance. They swing around like a circus act, with no real strategy. It’s a wonder they manage to accomplish anything at all.”

Frowning, you look back at Damian, who stands rigid, his shoulders tensed. “Maybe their methods look a bit rough, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t making a difference. They’ve managed to help a lot of people.”

“Helping people isn’t just about flashy moves and headlines,” he says, his voice rising slightly. He shoves the paper back onto its shelf, the paper crumpling from the force.

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, struggling to control the anger rising within you. As much as you loved Damian, his insufferable egotism could be unbearable at times. Your eyes focus on the comic book display, the vibrant covers searing into your retinas.

“You’re one to talk,” you can’t help but snap. “Robin and Batman are practically on the front pages almost every week. And what, you’re saying their efforts are worthless just because they don’t meet your standards? That’s pretty unfair. Just because they deal with lesser threats doesn’t mean they’re any less of a hero than you guys are.”

“What exactly are you trying to say?” Damian hisses, his tone sharper than intended. The sting of your criticism and his bruised ego fuel his words.

Damian craves validation more than he likes to admit. His entire life has been a constant battle to prove himself—whether it’s measuring up to his father’s expectations, competing with his peers, or affirming his place within the shadow of his legacy. He’s used to being the one in control, the one whose actions are seen as perfect. When that perception is challenged, it’s not just his skills or methods that are questioned; it’s his very worth.

The irony, of course, is that your approval matters more to him than anyone else’s. Your opinion matters to him, and your criticism hits harder than any public scrutiny ever could.

“I’m saying that they’re trying to help!” you snap, your voice rising to match his. From behind the counter, the cashier gives you a wary glance. “They’re doing things that you guys can’t always do.”

Damian’s expression hardens, his eyes narrowing. “What can’t we do?”

“Helping the little guys!” you snap, your frustration boiling over. You gesture toward the crumpled paper, your movements sharp and erratic. “Spidey—they stand for exactly what you stand for—the belief that everyone deserves protection and justice.”

Damian’s jaw tightens, his pride visibly wounded. “Maybe you should reconsider what you’re so willing to defend. It’s important to recognize when someone’s approach is flawed, even if it’s someone you admire.”

You shake your head, refusing to back down. “I’m not saying Spidey is perfect, but they’re out there trying. That counts for something.”

With a sigh of resignation, you tug his jacket off and shove it into his arms. Damian’s face scrunches up in hurt, the gesture cutting deeper than he lets on.

“I’m going home,” you say quietly, turning on your heel and heading for the exit.

Damian watches as you slip out of the shop, a bitter taste lingering in his mouth from the argument. But as he catches a glimpse of the hurt in your eyes, his anger begins to dissolve into regret.

Without hesitation, he follows you, his footsteps quickening until he catches up. Gently, he grips your shoulder to stop you.

“Beloved,” he calls out softly, his tone now tender. His earnest gaze meets yours, regret pooling in his eyes. “I apologize.”

You stop and turn to face him. “Apologize for what, Damian?”

Damian hesitates, searching for the right words. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken feelings. 

You try to move past him, your steps feeling heavy. “I just need some space right now."

Damian doesn’t let go. “At least let me drive you home.”

“No. I need to walk and blow off some steam.”

With a final, apologetic look, Damian steps back, giving you the space you need. You turn and start to walk away, the heat of the sun only intensifying your already heated emotions. The city, bustling with life, seems to close in around you as you move deeper into its more crowded parts. The shops grow closer together, the crowds thicker, the noise louder, and the streets narrower with every step.

Lost in thought and simmering with frustration, you’re suddenly jolted back to reality by an alarming noise—a commotion coming from a nearby alleyway. The muffled voices and scuffling footsteps cut through the city’s din, pulling your attention.

A group of masked individuals are cornering someone in the alley. The victim, pinned against the wall, is desperately trying to fend off the assailants. The attackers are demanding valuables, their threats laced with violence. Despite the bustling city around them, no one seems willing to intervene. The crowd keeps a safe distance, choosing to look away rather than get involved.

You glance down at your civilian attire—a shirt and jeans, not exactly ideal for a fight.

But someone has to help, and if you’re the only one who will, then so be it.

Taking a deep breath, you step into the alley.

“Hey!” you call out, trying to draw their attention away from the victim. “Pick on someone your own size!”

The muggers turn their attention toward you, and suddenly, their target comes into sharp focus. Tousled red hair spills out from beneath a white beanie, and thick black frames are crookedly perched on her nose.

Your eyes lock with hers, and you freeze—Morgan.

What is it with this girl and finding trouble?

Her eyes widen in sheer disbelief at the sight of you, practically screaming, Are you out of your damn mind? You can almost hear her thoughts. You flash a reassuring smile, throwing in a thumbs up that you hope translates to, “Relax, I’ve got this,” even though you’re pretty sure you’re both in deep shit right now.

Shaking your head, you refocus on the muggers. There are ten of them in total. Your goal is to keep their attention away from Morgan and buy time until help arrives—or if help arrives.

“Ten on one, huh? Not exactly fair, but hey, I’m feeling generous today,” you say, your voice steady despite the overwhelming odds. “Let’s make this interesting. If you take me on and win, I’ll buy you all a round of whatever you’re drinking. And if you lose”—you flash a cheeky grin—“well, let’s just say you’ll be spending the night in a cozy little cell, courtesy of the GCPD.”

The muggers burst into laughter, clearly entertained by the sight of an unathletic-looking eighteen-year-old in a Batman shirt stepping up to them with such bravado. You just grin, letting their amusement roll off you.

“Yeah, I get it,” you say with a shrug, rolling up your sleeves to your shoulders. “I might not look like much, but I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. So, who wants to take the first swing?”

The laughter fades as the muggers size you up. One of them, a lanky guy with a scruffy beard, steps forward, cracking his knuckles and sneering.

“Alright, girly,” he taunts, “unless you want to back out now, you’re about to get a taste of what we’re all about.”

Before he can react, you pull your arm back, focusing on the momentum. With a swift, forceful punch, you drive your knuckles straight into his jaw. The impact lands with a solid thud, sending him crashing into the alley wall, his head snapping to the side.

One.

The other muggers freeze. They exchange glances, their earlier laughter choked off. Morgan’s mouth falls open in shock.

“What the fuck,” she mouths at you. 

A grin stretches across your face as you size up the remaining muggers.

“So,” you whistle, “who’s next?”

One of them steps forward, but you’re ready. A brutal left hook catches him square on the cheekbone, and he staggers back, blood erupting from his nose. He collapses to the ground, clutching his face in agony.

Two.

A woman with a wild, frizzy mop of hair barrels toward you, snarling menacingly. You sidestep her clumsy swing and deliver a powerful uppercut. Her head snaps back with a satisfying crack, and she crashes into the alley wall with a loud clang, blood streaming from her split lip and chin.

Three.

Before you can catch your breath, a wiry man with a rat-like face tries to dart around you, aiming for Morgan. But you’re quicker. You grab him by the collar, yank him close, and drive a vicious knee into his gut. He doubles over, gasping for breath, and you follow up with a hard right hook that sends him sprawling into a puddle of muck.

Four.

Adrenaline surges through your veins, and the earlier argument with Damian feels like a distant storm driving your fists. Each punch lands with a mix of frustration and resolve, the anger you’re trying to process fueling your strikes.

Two more muggers, a lanky guy with a snake tattoo and a burly man with a scarred face, charge at you simultaneously. You sidestep the lanky guy’s wild swing, then deliver a brutal, bone-crushing kick to his ribs. He crumples with a pained gasp, collapsing to the ground with a wheezing groan.

Five. 

You pivot to face the burly man, deflecting his punch with a forceful block. With a grunt, you slam an elbow into his gut, making him double over, gasping for air. Before he can recover, you drive a fierce knee into his face. He crashes into the alley wall, blood and sweat mingling as he slides to the ground, clutching his face in agony.

Six.

That’s around half of them. You turn to face the rest.

“Last chance,” you blow a stray strand of hair away from your face. “Either you leave now or join your buddies in the hospital.”

The remaining muggers scramble, retreating as fast as they can down the alley. The noise of their hurried escape fades into the distance, leaving you and Morgan.

Breathing heavily, you survey the scene. The alley is littered with fallen muggers—some groaning in pain, others unconscious. Blood stains your hands and the ground, and your knuckles are bruised and swollen.

Morgan slowly rises from her crouched position, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and awe. Her gaze flickers over the scene—the battered muggers, the bloodstained ground, and you standing amidst the chaos, breathing heavily.

“That was…” she starts, shaking her head as if to clear the shock. “You’re something else. What the hell?! I didn’t know you could fight like that!”

You give a wry, tired smile. “Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Morgan steps closer, her expression softening from disbelief to something akin to admiration. “Seriously, though, that was insane. I thought we were done for, but you—”

DANGER.

Your instincts kick in with a jolt of alarm, making your hair stand on end. Everything slows to a crawl.

You see it: one of the muggers, still on the ground but moving, starts to stir. His fingers slip into his jacket, reaching for something concealed. Each movement seems to stretch out in excruciating detail, from the twitch of his fingers to the barely perceptible shift of his body. Morgan, still caught up in her surprise and relief, is too busy chatting to notice.

The mugger’s hand emerges from his jacket, revealing a glinting gun. You quickly fire a web, aiming to disarm him. The webbing sticks to the gun, but the mugger has already squeezed the trigger.

Without a second thought, you react instinctively. 

“Get down!” you shout, pushing her aside.

BANG!

The sharp crack of the gunshot reverberates through the alley, and you feel a searing pain in your ribs. A hot, burning sensation spreads through your side, intensifying with every heartbeat. Morgan’s scream pierces the air, her horror evident as she watches you stagger.

You stagger back, clutching your side. 

Well... shit.

“Motherfudger—” you grit your teeth, the pain in your side intensifying. You turn your focus to the mugger scrambling to flee, his gun now ensnared in your webbing. 

With a swift flick of your wrist, you shoot another web, pulling him toward you. As he comes within reach, you slam his head against the wall, the impact knocking him out cold.

Morgan rushes back to your side, her face pale. “Are you okay? Holy shit! Holy shit! You're shot.”

Her gaze then turns to the webs scattered across the alley, her eyes widening in realization.

“You’re—”

You hush her, slamming a hand over her mouth. “Quiet!”

She mumbles into your palm, eyes darting nervously. “Y-you’re Spidey!”

“Listen,” you say softly but firmly, removing your hand once you're sure she won’t start screaming, “we need to keep our voices down. I’m hurt, and we need to get out of here before more trouble shows up.”

Morgan bites her lip, running a hand through her frazzled hair, white beanie long discarded on the ground. “But you’re hurt, and the police—” She trails off, glancing around at the mess and the moaning muggers scattered on the ground.

“I’ll be fine,” you cut her off. “We don’t need the police right now. Just help me get out of here.”

Morgan’s face twists but she nods. “I know where to go.”

Both of you soon find yourselves swinging through the alleys. You grit your teeth, pushing through the burning pain in your ribs and focusing on the task at hand. Ignoring the searing ache, you accelerate, swinging through the city with Morgan clinging to your side. You take the longer route, weaving through the shadows to avoid detection.

Finally, you drop down into an alley beside her penthouse building. Morgan’s eyes widen as she takes in the sight of the blood seeping through the fabric of your shirt, a stark contrast against the white. She steps back, shock and concern etched across her face.

“Damn,” she curses. “You’re really hurt.”

“‘Tis but a flesh wound,” you grunt, pressing a hand against the wound to staunch the bleeding. “Now, let’s get inside before I bleed out or pass out—whichever decides to happen first.”

Morgan doesn’t waste a second. She grabs your arm and pulls you toward the back door of her building. The heavy steel door creaks open, and she nearly shatters the elevator buttons with the force of her pressing.

You lean heavily against her as she steps into the elevator with you. The harsh fluorescent lights inside the elevator are glaringly bright, intensifying the pain in your ribs with their sterile, clinical glare. As the metal doors close with a soft, echoing thud, the outside world fades away. For a fleeting moment, you find some relief as the lift begins its ascent, the gentle hum of the machinery offering a small distraction from the throbbing ache in your side.

Morgan keeps glancing at you, nervously biting her lip. “Just hang in there. We’ll get you patched up in no time.”

You manage a shrug, despite the discomfort. The pain isn’t as overwhelming as it might be for most, thanks to your spider abilities, but the real kicker is the identity reveal. 

"Did I at least look badass?"

"Oh my god. I literally hate you."

When the elevator finally dings open, Morgan practically drags you out, guiding you swiftly down the hall to her penthouse. The door swings open, and she ushers you inside.

You collapse onto the plush couch, wincing as you sink into its cushions. The pain in your ribs throbs with each breath, and as the adrenaline fades, you feel every ache more acutely.

Without wasting a second, Morgan strides across the room and shouts into the air, her voice echoing off the sleek, modern walls.

“PEPPER, I need you!”

You’re caught off guard as a series of robotic arms extend from sleek panels in the walls, their metallic surfaces catching the ambient light. The arms are intricate, equipped with various tools and sensors, whizzing towards you.

One of the arms reaches out, its end featuring a gentle, flexible grip. It carefully tugs at your shirt, and you reluctantly slip it off, exposing the wound on your side. The arm’s sensors begin to glow softly as it scans your injury.

The room fills with a soft, synthesized voice. “Scanning gunshot wound. Location: left lower rib, depth: 4 cm. Severe damage, high infection risk. Blood loss: 150 ml. No internal bleeding. Administering anesthesia. Cleaning and debridement soon.”

Tiny robotic tools emerge from compartments within the arm—sterilizing swabs, a precision scalpel, and a fine, retractable syringe. The anesthetic solution is applied gently, its cooling sensation numbing the pain.

“Uh, what the actual fuck is going on?” you blurt out.

Morgan watches with a stony expression, her focus fixed on a tablet in her hands as she monitors your vitals closely.

“Oh, that’s PEPPER. She’s a Stark Industries AI I’ve had integrated into the penthouse. She’s pretty good at this kind of thing. Coded her myself."

The robotic arm emits a soft beep before starting the process of removing the bullet. You feel a series of sharp, targeted tugs as the bullet is gradually extracted, each pull sending a brief jolt of pain through your side. The bullet clinks as it drops onto a metal tray.

“Isn’t... isn’t PEPPER your mom’s name? Damn, you actually coded this?” you ask, your voice a mix of awe and disbelief.

Morgan gives a small, proud smile, her eyes meeting yours.

“I’m the next in line for Stark Industries, after all,” she says. “So yeah, I figured out how to make this kind of tech. And yep, Pepper’s named after my mom. She used to patch up my dad whenever he got into trouble.”

A fleeting, wistful look crosses her face, but she shakes it off quickly. “PEPPER stands for ‘Personal Emergency Protocol and Protective Emergency Response.’ It’s a tribute, and it’s supposed to handle everyday stuff and emergencies like this.”

The robotic arms continue their work, the AI’s voice providing updates. “Bullet extraction complete. Administering wound care and infection prevention. Proceeding with final checks.”

“Just hang tight,” Morgan says. “We’re almost done here.”

"This is—this is insane! It’s insane," you hiss at her, leaning back as the machine starts bandaging you. "Is this what rich people do? Build robots that can do fucking surgery?!"

Morgan chuckles softly, her eyes still focused on the tablet as she adjusts the settings. “When you have the resources, why not make the best use of them?”

The robotic arms complete the bandaging, applying a final layer of antiseptic and securing the bandages with a gentle press. The AI’s voice announces the end of the procedure with a soft chime. “Wound care complete. Vital signs stable. Patient recovery in progress.”

You let out a deep sigh of relief as the robotic arm finally withdraws. You stretch out your shoulders and take a moment to appreciate the absence of pain. “Well, thanks for the help. I guess I owe you one... or maybe a lot.”

Morgan’s smile is faint but warm, her eyes softening as she looks at you. “Well… you did save me today. And… on that night. I’d say we’re kinda even now.”

Suddenly, a new chime interrupts the moment. Morgan’s brows furrow as she glances at the tablet, her confusion giving way to awe.

“Whoa,” she breathes, eyes widening. “You’re healing at an insane rate... Your tissues are already regenerating. This is... freaky. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

You wince slightly as the last of the bandages is applied. The robotic arms retract with a soft whir, leaving behind a faint, antiseptic scent. You manage a tired smile, though your face is still flushed from the pain and the adrenaline crash.

“It’s the spider stuff,” you explain. “Enhanced abilities. Healing and pain tolerance are part of the package.”

Morgan’s expression shifts from shock to a wry grin, her eyes sparkling with a mix of disbelief and admiration. “No shit. You treated that gunshot like it was just a scratch.”

The redhead places her tablet on a nearby table and takes a seat directly in front of you. Her demeanor is a blend of fascination and a newfound respect.  “So, you’re Spidey? I mean, I knew you were something special, but this...” She gestures to you with a grin. “This is next-level. 

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing grin spreading across your face. “You think I’m special?”

Morgan’s cheeks flush slightly as she stumbles over her words, clearly flustered.

“Uh, well, yeah. I mean, I think you’re really smart and capable—like, a genius. I mean, your skills with chemistry and science are incredible. The way you analyze problems and come up with solutions, it’s like you’ve got a grasp of things that usually takes years to master. And then there’s the tech you’ve built—it's insane. Seeing you in action like that? It’s next-level. I didn’t expect you to be, like, superhero-level special.”

You blink in surprise, caught off guard by her enthusiastic praise. “Well… thanks,” you say, a wry grin spreading across your face.

Morgan, still flustered, clears her throat and tries to change the topic. “So, how long have you been doing this?”

You shrug, rubbing your eyes as the weight of the day settles in. “A while. It’s... been a lot. Sometimes it feels like the more I do, the bigger the threats get.”

“Huh,” Morgan leans forward, her eyes locking with yours. “I guess I’m in it now, too.”

“Woah,” you laugh, raising a hand. “No, no. I see where this is going. I’ve read too many comics. I know what you’re about to say.”

Morgan’s gaze narrows. “Oh, really? And what’s that?”

You lean back with a groan, your head tilting back against the sofa. The action causes your chest to rise and fall more rapidly, sweat clinging to your skin. Your throat bobs with each breath, and the effort makes your neck arch slightly. 

Morgan’s eyes wander, taking in the sheen of sweat on your chest and the way your skin glistens. Her face flushes deeper as she stares.

You waggle a finger at her with a grin. “I know where this is headed,” you say, voice dripping with mock seriousness. “I’ve seen the trope before. The whole ‘I’m in this now too’ speech. And trust me, it’s usually followed by—”

“By what?” Morgan blinks, snapping out of her daze. 

You give her a knowing look.

“Okay, fine, you got me,” she huffs, crossing her arms. “And before you say anything, I’m not just looking to tag along for the excitement. I genuinely want to contribute. I’ve got resources, skills, and—”

She gestures to the high-tech surroundings of her penthouse, where one of the robot arms gives a casual wave. “—I can do more than just sit on the sidelines.”

Pursing your lips, you nervously bite on your fingernails, glancing away. “See, this is where I’m supposed to give you the ‘I can’t put you in danger’ speech. The whole ‘this is too dangerous’ line. Normally, in a story like this, you’d be the love interest.”

Morgan slumps. “I appreciate that, really. But I’m not just some bystander here.”

“Morga—”

The door creaks open, and a soft, synthesized voice echoes through the apartment, cutting you off.

“Welcome home, Tony.”

Both of you freeze.

The front door swings fully open, revealing Tony FUCKING Stark himself. 

His face is stony as he takes in the scene. His eyes dart from you—shirtless and in nothing but a bra, with bandages wrapped haphazardly around your torso—to Morgan, who looks flustered and disheveled.

You and Morgan stare right back, just as wide-eyed. There’s a beat of awkward silence as Tony’s brain catches up with the situation. He glances at you, then at Morgan, and back at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh, hey, Dad,” Morgan says, her voice hitting a pitch that could break glass. She scrambles to smooth her hair and adjust her clothes, her face a portrait of embarrassment.

Tony’s eyes narrow, clearly trying to piece together what he’s walked into. “Well, this is... unexpected. I didn’t realize I was interrupting... whatever this is.”

You, still sprawled on the couch, cross your arms over your chest, your face blazing red. “Um. Hello, Mr. Stark. This... looks exactly like it’s not what it seems.”

Tony’s gaze sharpens as he scrutinizes you. His eyes narrow, and he points a finger at you with a blend of suspicion and recognition. “Wait a second. Aren’t you that Wayne kid’s girlfriend? The youngest one. Darryl, right?”

“Damian,” you correct, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Yeah, him.” Tony squints. “So, what’s the deal? Am I looking at a tabloid scandal in the making here?”

Morgan’s face flushes a deeper shade of red, clearly mortified. “Dad!”

Tony’s expression shifts to one of mock seriousness as he holds up a hand, covering his eyes with exaggerated drama. “It’s okay! I’ll be in my workshop, pretending I didn’t see a thing. Just... try not to make any more headlines while I’m gone.”

“Sh—she’s not—!” you start to protest, but Morgan cuts you off with a rapid, high-pitched explanation.

“She’s the Stark intern I told you about!” Morgan lies straight through her teeth, sending you a look that screams, 'Go along with it!' “I was just showing her how some of the bots work!”

Tony squints at Morgan, then at you, and back at Morgan with a grimace. “For the love of tech, Morgan, next time you give your intern a hands-on demonstration, maybe keep it... less hands-on?”

Morgan sputters and gapes, but Tony is already turning on his heel and strutting out of the room. Over his shoulder, he adds with a shout, “Be who you are!”

The door swings shut behind Tony with a soft, final thud, leaving you and Morgan in an awkward silence. 

“Does this mean I actually have to become an intern for your dad's company now?”

“Yes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Couldn’t you have come up with a better excuse? Like, say, that I’m just a really good friend or something?”

Morgan rolls her eyes and flicks your ear. “Dude, chill. I can get you cool tech. I mean, who wouldn’t want access to Stark Industries’ gadgets? I can be the guy in the chair and all that cool Oracle stuff. Think of it as a tech upgrade for your superhero gig.”

“You want to be the guy in the chair? Seriously? I am not letting you be the guy in the chair.”

Morgan gasps in disbelief. “Why not?! I’m perfectly capable of providing a little tech support. And! I just showed you how I can help with your injuries.”

“I’m not sure if I want to gamble my safety on your ‘tech support.’”

“Come on, it’ll be fine!”

“I’m not letting you be the guy in the chair.”

“You’re just repeating yourself.”

“You keep pushing the ‘guy in the chair’ thing.”

“Well, you keep rejecting me.”

“Because you’re a civilian!"

"Am I?! Are you seriously doubting my tech skills?”

“More like your impulse control.”

Morgan huffs dramatically, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Ha, very funny. You’re one to talk! May I remind you who exactly got shot between us?”

“Fine!” you snap, throwing up your hands in defeat. “You win! You can be the guy in the chair!”

Morgan’s face lights up with a smirk as she pushes her glasses up with a satisfied flick of her fingers. “Perfect. But just so you know… I’m not planning on getting into any alleyway brawls.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Not like you could do anything with your spaghetti arms."

"Ass!"

“Also," you add. "You say that now, but I’ve seen how people get when they’re itching to help. You’re not allowed to step a foot into any of my alleys. You stay where it’s safe, understood?”

Morgan raises her hands in mock surrender. “Got it."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 8:12 PM - Crime Alley, Gotham City.

The moon casts long, eerie shadows across the grimy streets of Crime Alley, its pale light barely penetrating the oppressive darkness. The night air is cool and sharp as you swing effortlessly between buildings.

Morgan clings tightly to your back, her grip firm. Her breath comes in quick, exhilarated bursts as the wind howls around you, whipping through her hair and making her voice rise with the rush of the night.

“This is incredible!” she shouts, her words lost momentarily in the roar of the wind. “I had no idea you were so… so agile! I’m practically flying!”

You chuckle, tightening your grip on her. “Glad you’re enjoying it. Just remember to keep this between us, okay? I already texted my mom, told her I was working late on an internship. She’d totally lose it if she knew the whole story. I wasn’t supposed to let anyone know.”

Morgan nods enthusiastically, her laughter mingling with the wind. “Secret’s safe with me! Besides, this is way cooler than any boring internship!”

As you approach the warehouse, you swing gracefully from the rooftops, landing lightly on the building’s edge. You gently set Morgan down, her eyes wide with curiosity. You lead her to an open window, and together you step into the warehouse, emerging into the loft area that overlooks the cluttered first floor.

Tables cluttered with tools, spare parts, and old electronics fill one side of the warehouse. Shelves stacked with various gadgets, blueprints, and half-finished projects line the walls. A makeshift bed, complete with a thin mattress and a worn blanket, sits in a corner, flanked by a few of your personal touches like a small stack of comic books and a faded poster of a vintage comic.

“It’s a bit scrappy, but it gets the job done,” you explain, glancing around the space. “I’ve done a lot of work here over the past few months.”

Morgan sets her gear down on one of the tables, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. She starts pulling out a few gadgets, laying them out with a smile. You watch her with interest as she reveals the basics for now: a comm device, a sleek laptop, and a set of earpieces.

“Alright, so here’s the rundown,” Morgan says, holding up the comm device. “This little beauty will keep us in touch no matter where we are. It’s got encryption and a few extra features that’ll come in handy for tracking and coordinating.”

She places it on the table and picks up the laptop, opening it to reveal a high-resolution screen. “This is my command center. Well... laptop. It’s loaded with security protocols and a few surprises. I’ll be able to monitor everything from here, plus it has advanced analytics.”

Finally, she holds up the earpieces with a grin. “And these are for communication and hearing everything clearly, even in the middle of a mess. They’re noise-canceling and have a range that can reach the entire country.”

You stare at her blankly.

"You are... oddly prepared for this."

Morgan shifts her weight and shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m really into heroes, okay?! Stark Industries has some pretty cool special projects.” She coughs lightly as she sets the equipment down, arranging it on one of the tables. “Just wait until you see what else I’ve got in store."

You shake your head with a smile, letting her dive into the setup. As she busies herself with the tech, you move to the corner of the warehouse where you’ve set up a small training area. You pull out a yoga mat, your muscles aching from the day’s activities and the previous night’s adrenaline rush.

Spreading the mat out on the floor, you begin a series of stretches and exercises to ease the tension in your body. The quiet hum of the warehouse is soothing until suddenly, your ringtone starts blaring through the speakers.

Na-Na-Na-Na-Na-Na-Na-Na… Batman!

You perk up, eyes wide, as the theme song fills the room. Morgan’s snort echoes through the space as she looks over at you, clicking something on her laptop.

“Nice fucking ringtone,” she laughs. “Damian’s calling.”

You squint at her, then glance at your phone, which is sitting a few inches away on the table. “Did you just hack my phone?”

“Hacked,” she corrects with a smirk. “You’d be surprised at what I can do with Bluetooth and a laptop.”

You roll your eyes and settle back down to squat on the floor. “You know, I thought I was supposed to be the tech expert here.”

Morgan shrugs nonchalantly. “Consider it a skill I picked up. Besides, if you’re going to have me as your tech support, you need to get used to this kind of thing.”

The ringtone continues to ring, and Morgan raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Are you going to answer that, or do you want me to handle it for you too?”

You wince. “We had an argument.”

“Trouble in paradise,” she squints before pointing to the door of the warehouse. “Maybe you want some privacy?”

You glance at the screen, where Damian’s name is flashing. With a resigned sigh, you reach for the phone and press the end button. Morgan whistles and grimaces.

“Yikes.”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, trying to brush off the discomfort. “I’ll talk to him when I feel like it. Let me do my yoga in peace.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

"I'm sorry, this caller cannot be reached—"

With a sharp, irritated breath, Damian swipes the call away, the screen of his bike’s console dimming to black.

You didn’t want to answer? Fine. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

The bike’s engine roars to life with a deep, throaty growl, cutting through the night air like a predator on the hunt. Damian deftly navigates Gotham’s tangled mess of traffic, weaving between honking cars and startled pedestrians. The bike’s tires bite into the wet asphalt, the city lights reflecting off its sleek frame as he darts past another red light. 

Tonight’s patrol is anything but routine. High-profile cases, gang activity, and urgent calls stack up like a never-ending to-do list, and Damian can already feel the weight of the week ahead pressing down on him. Gotham’s underbelly churns with unease, as if the city itself is bracing for something darker on the horizon.

BUZZ!

Just as he begins to settle into the rhythm of the ride, the steady hum of the bike’s engine is interrupted by the sharp buzz of his comm link. He glances down at the small screen embedded in the bike’s console, his eyes narrowing.

“Robin? You there? I’ve got something I need you to check out. It’s near your location.”

The familiar voice of Oracle crackles through the earpiece, cool and composed, but with a hint of urgency that sparks Damian’s interest. A digital map flickers to life on the dashboard, zooming in on a narrow, dimly lit alleyway nestled deep within one of Gotham’s most rundown districts. 

“I’m picking up unusual activity,” she explains. “There’s a gang meet-up happening in that alleyway near Queens. From the chatter, it sounds like they’re discussing something big—possibly a new drug shipment or an upcoming operation. Get some eyes on them.”

“Understood. I’ll check it out,” he replies curtly. Damian’s grip tightens on the handlebars as he adjusts his course, the bike’s engine growling in response as he veers sharply toward the indicated location.

It only takes a few minutes before Damian pulls up to the alleyway. He slows the bike to a stop, the tires skidding slightly on the wet pavement before he parks it in a shadowed corner, blending in with the darkness. The engine’s deep rumble fades to a low, menacing purr before it finally falls silent.

Damian pulls off his helmet, his hair tousled from the ride. He shakes his head slightly, letting the cool night air ruffle through his dark locks. The city’s muted sounds reach his ears—the distant wail of sirens, the occasional shouts, the drip of water from a nearby pipe.

The alleyway ahead is cloaked in darkness, illuminated only by the occasional flicker of a faulty streetlamp. Shadows stretch and twist along the grimy walls, creating an unsettling landscape.

He dismounts and approaches the entrance to the alley with silent steps. As he ventures deeper, the muffled sounds of voices become clearer. The air grows heavier, thick with the smell of smoke mingling with an acrid tang of something burning and the less pleasant odors of old beer and rotting food. 

Damian reaches into his earpiece and taps the control for his embedded mic. The small device activates with a soft, almost imperceptible beep and he begins recording.

“Did you hear about latest shipment?” One voice says, his accent thick and unmistakable, the words rolling off his tongue with a heavy Russian lilt. “It’s stolen Stark Tech. Black Mask, he’s making big moves, yes? Big tech deals coming soon.”

Another voice, sharper and edged with a typical Gothamite drawl, chimes in. “Yeah, I heard. Looks like he’s tryin’ to offload some high-end stuff. Somethin’ to do with the Octavius project.”

A third voice, younger and nasally, adds, “Octavius? Isn’t he locked up in Blackgate? Why would he be involved in any of this?”

"Money," the Russian explains, "Black Mask, he uses connections, push deals forward. Octavius, he is in prison, yes, but influence, it is not gone. We get in on this... payout could be very big."

Damian’s eyes narrow as he tries to move closer, but something tugs at him from behind. He glances over his shoulder and freezes when he sees a thin, webbed strand clinging to the edge of his cape. It’s almost invisible in the dim light of the alley but stands out starkly against the dark fabric of his cape.

Spidersilk.

Scowling, Damian tugs at his cape, attempting to peel away the stubborn webbing. It clings tenaciously, resisting his efforts with an almost defiant grip. Frustration flares as he yanks harder, the strained fabric slapping against the nearby wall with a loud snap.

The voices in the alley fall silent, replaced by the shuffle of feet and urgent whispers. Damian curses under his breath

Damian curses under his breath. He quickly snaps off the cape, leaving it behind in the shadows, and just as he does, a gang member swings a crude metal pipe toward him. Damian reacts instinctively, raising his forearm to block the attack, the clang of metal echoing through the alley.

Snarling, Damian wrenches the pipe from the thug’s grip and drives it into the man’s ribs with brutal force. There’s a sickening crack as bone gives way, and the thug emits a sharp, agonized wail before crumpling to the ground, clutching his side in pain.

Standing tall, Damian slowly steps out of the shadows, the darkness sweeping across his face like a shroud. The white of his mask catches what little light there is, giving it an eerie, spectral glow. 

With a deliberate, almost ritualistic slowness, he draws his katana from its sheath. The blade catches and distorts the scant light, gleaming with a sinister, predatory sheen. As he spins the weapon with precise, practiced ease, the razor-sharp edge slices through the darkness, emitting a soft, chilling hiss.

“Here’s a piece of advice,” Damian sneers, his voice distorted into a menacing growl by his modulator. “You’re all out of your league. I suggest you leave now, before you make this any worse for yourselves.”

One of the gang members, either too reckless or too foolish to retreat, lunges at Damian with a rusty knife. The blade catches the scant light, its edge glinting menacingly as it arcs toward Damian’s side.

With a fluid, practiced motion, Damian sidesteps the attack, his hand shooting out to grasp the thug’s wrist and wrench it sharply. The knife clatters to the grimy ground as the thug lets out a pained cry. In a seamless follow-up, Damian flicks his katana, slicing across the thug’s torso with a precise cut that wounds but doesn’t kill.

Damian follows up with a brutal strike to the thug’s face, slamming him against the alley wall. Blood spatters onto the cracked pavement as Damian’s punch leaves the thug’s face a bruised, bloody mess.

“Had enough?” Damian growls, his voice a chilling rasp. The thug, dazed and barely able to stand, makes a feeble attempt to swing at Damian. 

Damian easily deflects the pitiful attack, then brings the hilt of his katana down with a sharp crack against the thug’s temple. The thug crumples to the ground, unconscious before he even hits the pavement.

“Let this be a lesson, Damian calls out to the other men. He twists his wrist, adjusting his grip on the katana, letting blood drip from the blade in a slow, deliberate descent. As he advances towards the remaining gang members, the metal scrapes against the ground with a harsh, grating sound.

“That next time, you won’t be so lucky,” he continues, his carved jade eyes darkened with flecks of shadow, swirling like wisps of smoke.

The thugs, now visibly terrified, back away slowly, their bravado gone. The oldest of them, a burly man with a scar that cuts through his rugged face, steps forward.

“Alright, alright, we’re done here,” he growls, his voice betraying a tremor of fear. “We’ll leave. Just... just don’t kill us.”

Damian flicks his sword back. “Smart choice. Now get out of here, before I change my mind.”

The men scramble to their feet, their panicked retreat echoing off the narrow walls as they disappear into the shadows. The sound of their hurried footsteps gradually fades, leaving Damian alone in the quiet aftermath.

He sheaths his katana, the blade slipping into its scabbard with a soft, final click. His breathing is steady, but the adrenaline still buzzes beneath his skin. He scans the alley, taking in the mess left behind—smears of blood painting the pavement

His comm link crackles to life again, Oracle’s voice cutting through the silence. “Robin, report. What’s the status?”

“I recorded the conversation for you,” Damian replies, his voice steady as he turns. His boots crunch on the asphalt, the sound piercing the quiet as he kneels down to retrieve his discarded cape. He scowls at the stubborn webbing still clinging to his cape.

“That, and I’m starting a personal case,” he adds. He moves closer to examine the webbing, his gloved fingers deftly tearing away part of the fabric. The strands of webbing glint faintly in the dim light.

“A personal case?”

“Yes,” Damian confirms. He tugs his torn cape back into place, the frayed edges fluttering slightly as he smooths the fabric over his shoulders. He takes a moment to scan the alley one last time, the glinting remnants of webbing still catching his eye. 

“I'm going on a hunt."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you trudge up the creaky, worn stairs of your apartment building, your footsteps pounding against the wood. Your muscles protest with every step, body aching from the lack of sleep. 

Both you and Morgan were up all night setting up communication devices and sketching out possible upgrades for weapons and gadgets. Your mind is a foggy mess of blueprints and circuitry, making it hard to focus on anything but the thought of finally collapsing into your beloved bed.

Reaching your door, you fumble with the keys, and push the door open. The familiar scent of home—a mix of Selina's favorite lavender incense and the lingering aroma of last night's takeout—hits you, momentarily soothing your tired mind.

Inside, the windows are drawn open, and sunlight illuminates the living room, casting warm, golden beams across the worn-out furniture. Selina is sitting on the couch, engaged in an animated conversation with someone. You blink in confusion, your brain still foggy from sleep. Since when did you guys have guests?

You squint, then do a double-take.

Tony Stark. The Tony Stark is lounging on your couch, looking like he belonged there.

Maybe you were hallucinating.

You blink again, but he’s still there, looking impossibly real with his feet propped up and an easy smile on his face. It’s not a hallucination. This is real.

“Uh, Mom?” you manage to stammer out.

Selina turns and gives you a warm smile. “Look who finally decided to join us. Honey, you didn’t tell me you topped the rankings for their program!”

You… did?

“Uh, I did?” you ask, bewildered. You have no recollection of even applying for anything. The only time Tony knew about your existence was yesterday when you were literally shirtless at his apartment.

Tony chuckles, standing up and extending his hand. “You sure did, kid. Impressive work. I’ve been keeping an eye on the top candidates, and your projects really stood out. Thought I’d come by personally to congratulate you and talk about the next steps.”

You shake his hand, still in shock. His grip is firm, and his presence is undeniably magnetic. “Thank you, Mr. Stark. I’m… honored?”

“Honored, impressed—whatever you want to call it,” Tony says with a smirk, nodding at Selina before clapping a hand on your back. “Just know I’ve got big plans for you.”

Something feels off. 

Your spider senses are buzzing like a live wire, setting your nerves on edge. 

You force a smile, trying to mask the unease gnawing at you. The room feels too small, the air too thick. The sunlight streaming in from the window seems blindingly bright, almost as if it's glaring through a veil of distorted reality, making everything feel unreal.

As everything whirls into tunnel vision, the only thing you can focus on is Tony Stark, who seems too calm, too composed.

“Mom, would it be alright if I talked to Mr. Stark outside? We’ll be back,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel.

Without waiting for a response, you yank Tony toward the door. The latch clicks shut behind you with an ominous echo, and you steer him down the narrow, dimly lit hallway of the apartment building. The corridor feels tight and constricted, with the flickering lightbulbs casting uneven shadows that dance along the peeling wallpaper.

Once you reach the corner and are out of earshot, you turn to Tony. “Okay, what’s really going on?” you ask.

Tony raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Straight to the point, huh? I like that. I needed to talk to you about something important, and this seemed like the best way to get your attention without causing a scene.”

You furrow your brow, struggling to piece together what’s happening. “I don’t even remember applying for any program. Morgan just mentioned it to me. Are you sure you have the right person, Mr. Stark?”

Tony’s expression turns serious as he pulls out his phone. With a few swipes, he activates a holographic screen. A video begins to play, and your heart sinks as you recognize the scene. 

The video shows you from months ago, in your Spidey suit, captured by a bystander's shaky phone camera. The camera focuses on the moment when a car, careening out of control, crashes through the guardrail of a bridge. A web is shot, the thread catching the car just before it plunged into the river below. There's a grunt from you as you strain to pull the car back onto the bridge, the muscles in your arms and shoulders visibly taut under the suit. Onlookers gasp and cheer when you succeed, landing lightly on the bridge beside the car. 

Tony’s eyes bore into yours. "That's you, isn't it?"

Your heart skips a beat. The hallway seems to close in around you, the walls pressing in. You feel a bead of sweat trickle down your back as you stammer, "What? I—I don't... No?"

Tony's gaze remains fixed on you, his expression unreadable. "Come on, kid. Don't try to play me. I know it's you. Holy shit. What a catch! 4,100 pounds?"

"I really don't know what you're talking about," you lie and swallow hard. "That's probably fake you know right? It's probably some edit on Youtube."

"Oh, sure," Tony purses his lips and pulls up another screen. Your eyes scan it and you wince. "Guess this is fake too, huh?"

The screen displays medical records of your injury from yesterday—a gunshot wound that healed unusually fast. The data outlines the severity of the wound and highlights the rapid recovery process. Tony’s finger traces the timeline, pointing out the abnormal speed of your healing.

"Wowie," Tony gasps in mock-surprise. "Not exactly a normal recovery rate for a regular teenager, wouldn't you say? What the hell does your mom feed you, kid? Magic beans? And this—"

He pulls up another screen. It's a scan of your DNA. The image is a dense matrix of colorful strands and data points.

“Would you look at that,” Tony continues, crossing his arms. "You got some Spider DNA on you, kid. This is some next-level genetic crossover."

You exhale deeply, pressing your fingertips to your temples in an attempt to quell the rising tide of anxiety. “Did Morgan tell you about this?”

Tony shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Nope. I have access to the records and all data from the bot. Guess she forgot to clear it.” He slides his phone back into his pocket. “And before you ask, I don’t just dig through people’s private stuff for fun.”

He points a finger at you, a self-assured smile growing on his face. "So. I’m right? You’re the... Spiderling. Crime-fighting Spider?"

"Spidey," you correct, leaning against the wall and crossing your arms. "Look. Mr. Stark. What do you want?"

Tony adjusts his glasses, peering down at you with a look of genuine appreciation. "Well, first, I want to thank you for saving my girl. I owe you one for that."

You nod, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

"Second," Tony continues, his tone shifting to business, "I’m here with a proposition. I’ve seen what you can do, and let’s just say I’ve got some big plans that could use a spider-shaped wrench in the works. Plus, I’ve got some nifty gadgets to keep you happy.”

You wince and shake your head. “Mr. Stark, I’m not looking to upgrade.”

"Well, you’re in dire need of an upgrade," Tony says, pulling up a picture of you in your suit and making a gagging face. He adjusts his glasses with a look of disdain. "Systemic. Top to bottom."

You roll your eyes.

"But before we get into that," Tony adds, his tone shifting to something more thoughtful, "I’ve got to ask: why do this? Why play the hero? Is it guilt? A sense of responsibility? Or just a really bad habit? What's your emo backstory, kid?"

You shift uncomfortably against the wall, the cool, rough surface pressing against your back. 

"It’s... complicated," you finally say, your voice low. "When you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you. I can’t just stand by and act helpless."

"So, you’re playing the hero for the little guys, huh? Who else knows about this gig of yours?" Tony mutters

You exhale a heavy sigh, rolling your neck to ease the tension. "Morgan knows, and... Selina. And now, you."

Tony nods slowly, his fingers idly peeling back a section of wallpaper. "How’d would you like to spend a month at Stark Industries, kid?"

You sputter, "I can't just... What? Start living with you?"

"Well, yeah. I'm not exactly down to make the three-hour commute to your place."

"Okay, who said I was agreeing to this?"

"I did," Tony whistles and starts to move toward your apartment door. "Unless you want me to tell your ridiculously hot aunt that her kid got shot—"

THWIP.

Tony freezes, his foot now stuck as the sharp sound of the web echoes through the corridor. He looks down, eyes widening slightly as the web wraps around his ankle. 

You stand with your hand outstretched. “Don’t tell Mom.”

Tony raises an eyebrow in mock surprise. “So, what’s it going to be? Make a decision now, or do I need to start spilling secrets to get your attention?”

You groan, your head thudding against the wall as you wrestle with the decision. After a moment, you exhale sharply, pushing the doubt aside. “Alright, Mr. Stark. I’ll take you up on your offer. But if we’re doing this, I need to be in the loop on everything. No surprises.”

Tony’s smirk widens as he extends his hand. 

“Deal. Welcome to Stark Industries. You’re going to fit right in.”

"..."

"Now. Can you... get me out of this?"

 ༻⊰───⋅

The dining room at Wayne Manor was unusually lively this morning, a rare and welcome shift from the usual quiet. Bruce, seated at the head of the long, polished mahogany table, was partially hidden behind the day’s newspaper, only the top of his head visible as he read. The rustle of paper was the only sound he made as Alfred moved around his chair, silently refilling his coffee cup with a fresh, steaming brew.

To Bruce’s right, Dick and Jason were engaged in conversation. Every so often, their banter would erupt into laughter, the sound warm and familiar. Tim sat across from them, his laptop balanced precariously beside his plate, its glow reflecting off the food he barely touched. His eyes darted between the screen and the table, more absorbed in whatever was on his laptop than the breakfast laid out in front of him. At the far end, Cass cradled her latte in both hands, taking slow, thoughtful sips as her gaze wandered out to the gardens, lost in some distant thought.

Amidst the calm, Damian was anything but. His face was locked in a deep scowl as he hacked away at his breakfast, the knife in his hand scraping harshly against the plate, leaving deep, jagged scratches. Each slice seemed to require more effort than the last, the grating sound of metal against porcelain cutting through the room like nails on a chalkboard.

"Are you trying to eat your plate?"

"Die."

Bruce peered over the top of his newspaper, his brow furrowed in concern. The rustle of the paper paused as he glanced at his son, his gaze shifting from the newspaper to Damian. "Is something wrong, son?"

Damian’s grip tightened around his knife, his knuckles white. His jaw was clenched so tightly that it looked like it might crack. "The burger is insufficiently cut."

Tim, fingers flying across his laptop keyboard, barely looked up from the screen. He let out an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes. "He’s mad because his girlfriend hasn’t been replying to his messages."

Damian’s eyes shot a sharp glare at Tim, but the anger in his gaze softened just enough to betray the truth in his brother’s words. His jaw twitched as he tried to maintain his scowl. Bruce raised an eyebrow, his concern now tinged with curiosity.

"Damn," Jason said, pausing mid-bite of his eggs. He leaned back in his chair, waving his fork around with a smirk. "What did you do? Did she finally get tired of you?"

"Don’t start, Todd," Damian snapped, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Jason. "My relationship status is none of your concern."

Dick leaned back in his chair with a chuckle. "Busy, or just avoiding you? There’s a difference."

"She might just be busy," Tim chimed in, taking a leisurely sip from his coffee cup. He set it down with a deliberate clink and met Dick's gaze with a knowing look. "Did you know she topped the Stark Industries Young Innovators Program?"

The table fell silent for a moment, the hum of conversation abruptly cut off.

The newspaper, now forgotten, slipped from Bruce's fingers and landed on the table with a soft thud. His jaw twitched, and his lips pressed into a thin line, fighting to control the storm of emotions churning beneath his otherwise stoic facade. He looked as though he were struggling to choose between bursting into laughter, breaking down in tears, or punching a hole in the wall.

“Repeat that,” he said, his voice tight.

A wave of stunned stares passed around the table. Tim quickly typed something on his laptop, his fingers moving with practiced speed. He then turned the screen around for everyone to see. The headline on the screen read:

“Wayne-Stark Feud Escalates: Damian Wayne’s Girlfriend Takes Top Honors in Stark Industries’ Prestigious Young Innovators Program”

Dick’s eyes widened in surprise, and Jason whistled again, this time in genuine admiration. 

“Well, damn. She really knocked it out of the park.”

Bruce’s expression shifted to a frown. 

“Of course, I had already known she was impressive,” Bruce said slowly, his voice dripping with a hint of petty resentment. “It’s just… wonderful to see someone finally acknowledging it. Stark finally catching up.”

“Looks like he’s stealing your kid,” Jason snorted, shaking his head. "Who do you guys think is going to win the custody battle?"

“Tony,” Tim said with a laugh.

Bruce’s head snapped up, betrayed. “Tim—”

“Tony,” Tim repeated, scrolling through the article. “She accepted. She’ll be spending a month in Stark Tower’s living quarters. All expenses covered.”

“What.”

“Yep,” Tim said, not looking up from his screen. “All the perks of the job. Stark’s rolling out the red carpet.”

Damian’s scowl deepened, his frustration now entirely focused on his offending meal. He resumed his aggressive cutting, the knife scraping furiously against the porcelain, each slice resonating with his irritation.

Bruce slammed his coffee cup down on the table with a sharp clink.

“Stark,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and edged with bitter resignation. “Of course, Stark.”

Stares and knowing grins were exchanged around the table. 

“Can’t believe I’m being outmaneuvered by that billionaire showboat,” Bruce grumbled. “Not a drop of responsibility in that man. How on earth is he going to handle being a… mentor to her? Stark’s idea of responsibility is throwing money at a problem and hoping it magically solves itself. He’ll probably just have her parading around his tech labs, showing off to his high-profile friends while she’s supposed to be learning. It’s all a game to him. He’s just going to pat her on the back and call her a genius while he takes all the credit.”

“Oh my god,” Dick grimaced, trying to stifle a laugh. “The adoption senses are tingling.”

Bruce shot him a withering glance but was interrupted by Alfred’s calm, yet pointed voice. “You’re taking this a bit personally,” Alfred said. “If I were you, I’d be congratulating the young miss for her accomplishment. It’s a remarkable achievement, and it reflects well on her character.”

Bruce’s scowl didn’t fade, but his expression softened slightly. “I’m not questioning her achievement,” he muttered, his tone begrudging.

“She’ll be fine. If she can handle you, she can handle Stark,” Alfred snapped.

Bruce gasped in offense.

Alfred continued to move around the table, placing a pitcher of water in the center. As he wiped his hands with a cloth, he hummed thoughtfully. “Young Miss Kyle is more than equipped to manage whatever Sir Stark throws at her. Let’s all take a moment to appreciate her success and perhaps focus less on the competition.”

He glanced at Bruce with a hint of a smile. “We can invite them for a celebratory dinner, Master Bruce. It would be a fitting way to honor her achievement and show our support.”

CLANG!

A sudden, explosive smash shattered the calm of the room, followed by a harsh metallic scrape. Damian’s knife came down with such violent force that the plate beneath it cracked audibly, sending shards skittering across the table.

Alfred’s weary sigh broke the tension, and he glided over to collect the shattered remnants of the plate, his practiced hands carefully avoiding the jagged edges.

“I hope you enjoy cereal, Master Damian."

༻⊰───⋅

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

im a hoe for comments/reblogs/asks/kudos

it fuels me <3 pls send more

[suguae]

Unravel

1. The first encounter...

⋆ ࣪. Synopsis! Suguru introduces you to one of his well friends who happens to be heavily associated in the underground world.

⋆ ࣪. Pairings! Streetracer! G.Satoru x F! Reader

⋆ ࣪. Contents! Smoking, Dry humping, minimal spicy shit.

The parking garage is a vibrant spectacle of automotive art, every corner filled with the sleek lines and vibrant colors of tuned-up exotic cars. Engines roar intermittently, sending waves of sound reverberating through the space, while a mix of music genres blend into an energetic symphony. The air is electric with excitement and the smell of gasoline.

Beautiful girls, confident and stylish, stand proudly by their meticulously maintained vehicles. They exchange car jargon effortlessly, their passion evident in their animated discussions. You can't help but feel a pang of envy, admiring their knowledge and the way they effortlessly blend with the automotive culture.

"This is so cool," you mutter, almost to yourself, as you quicken your pace to catch up to Suguru. He walks with a relaxed confidence, clearly at ease in this high-octane environment. Hearing your remark, he chuckles softly, the sound a mix of amusement and understanding.

"I feel so out of place," you chuckle, trying to shake off the nervous energy. Suguru glances at you with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it," he says, his tone warm and encouraging. "Everyone starts somewhere. Just enjoy the vibe and you'll fit right in."

You take a deep breath, letting his words sink in. The vibrant atmosphere, the roaring engines, and the palpable excitement in the air slowly start to feel less intimidating and more thrilling. As you walk together, you start to appreciate the unique beauty of each car, the artistry in their modifications, and the passion of the people around you.

"Damn, and I thought your car was sick... these are next level," you tease him as you two stop in front of his tuned-up Lexus LFA. The car gleams under the garage lights, its aggressive lines and custom modifications making it a true standout.

Suguru laughs, shaking his head. "Hey, my baby can hold her own," he replies, patting the hood affectionately. "But yeah, there's some serious competition here."

You both stand there for a moment, taking in the scene. The diversity of cars is astounding, from hyper-tuned imports to classic muscle cars, each a testament to its owner's dedication and style. The atmosphere is alive with a mix of friendly rivalry and shared enthusiasm.

"So, what do you think?" Suguru asks, leaning against his car, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

You chuckle, leaning on the pole next to you. "Makes me want to add some shit to my boring-ass car." Suguru grins, his eyes lighting up. "That’s the spirit—It's all about making it your own. We can start with some basics and work our way up. Trust me, once you get into it, it's addictive..."

"I have a friend. We call him Arctic. I don't think I've introduced you to him before. He's pretty damn busy most of the time. But he's pretty sick, dope skills," Suguru says, scanning the crowd for his friend. "He's one of the best out here. Knows everything there is to know about cars and driving. If anyone can help you get started, it's him."

You smile to yourself, taking in your surroundings. "There he is—come with me," Suguru exclaims, spotting someone in the distance. Before you can even respond, he grabs your arm and drags you across the garage.

"What up, Arctic," Suguru says, giving Arctic a fist bump. Arctic returns the gesture with a confident smirk. Up close, you notice his striking features: white hair that perfectly complements his icy blue eyes, and a baggy leather jacket paired with black baggy jeans. His whole look exudes effortless cool, enhanced by the confident smirk on his face.

Next to him, a sleek white modded Skyline GTR R34 stands out, gleaming under the garage lights. The car is a masterpiece, with custom bodywork, a lowered stance, and aftermarket rims. It’s clear that a lot of time and effort has gone into making it a one-of-a-kind machine.

"This is y/n, the one I grew up with," Suguru says, introducing you to his friend. You blush as all eyes turn towards you, feeling a bit awkward under the sudden spotlight. You manage an awkward wave and a shy smile.

"Oh, come on, don't go all shy now, y/n," Suguru teases, giving you a playful poke on the shoulder. Arctic chuckles, a friendly twinkle in his eyes. "No worries, we don't bite," he reassures you. "It's nice to meet you, y/n. Suguru's mentioned you before."

You cock a brow, turning your attention towards Suguru. "You’ve talked about me, huh?" you tease, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. Suguru chuckles, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Uh, well, maybe," he replies, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "But you know, you're my best friend. I gotta brag about you sometimes."

“I’m Arctic,” His smirk widening as he leaned on the hood of his skyline. "Where's your ride?" Arctic asks, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. His eyes never leave your figure, the smoke curling up around him.

You chuckle, feeling a bit sheepish. "I parked at the 7/11," you say, pointing in the direction of the convenience store down the street. Suguru chuckles, wrapping an arm around you. "Her ride's pretty sick," he says, grinning at Arctic. "We wrapped it up in my shop not too long ago, but everything else is just factory tuned."

Arctic smirks as he exhales a puff of smoke, his eyes glinting with amusement. "So, you're a rookie, huh?" he asks, his tone teasing. You chuckle, shrugging a little. "I guess you could say that," you admit, feeling a bit self-conscious. Suguru squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. "She's got potential," he says confidently. "And she's a quick learner." 

"We'll see about that," Arctic mumbled, checking the time on his phone. "Well, I have a race to attend pretty soon," he said, stuffing his phone back in his pocket."How much they bet on?" Suguru asked, taking the cigarette from Arctic's hand and taking a puff of his own. "Viper and Scar wanted to bet on a million yen," Arctic replied casually.

Your eyes widen at the mention of the intense prize, the stakes much higher than you had anticipated. You try to keep yourself busy, not wanting to butt into their conversation. "That's a serious bet," Suguru says, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "You feeling confident?" Arctic smirks, a glint of determination in his icy blue eyes. "Always," he replies.

"Arctic, they wanted to start the race early. Cops are all over the place, so it's the best time to do it," a voice calls out. You glance over to see a tall, drop-dead gorgeous girl with dark red sleek hair reaching her waist. She's wearing a bomber jacket over a short leather tube dress, and a cherry lollipop is intertwined in her fingers. She turns her gaze to you, a smile lighting up her face. "Hey, the name's Katana," she says, her eyes friendly and curious.

"Y/N," you smile back. "Sugu invited me." Suguru nods, confirming her words. "Yeah, I thought she might enjoy it," he says, giving you a playful grin. Katana's eyes light up with interest. "Well, you're in for quite the ride," she says, her tone filled with excitement. 

"Alright, I better start heading over," Arctic says, standing tall and stealing a glance at you. "Katana, keep her company and get a good view of the race for her, yeah?" He smirks. Katana nods, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You got it," she says, flashing you a playful grin. "Don't worry, Y/N. I'll make sure you don't miss a moment of the action."

You smile back, feeling a sense of excitement building inside you. With Arctic heading off to the starting line, you know that the race is about to begin in earnest. And with Katana by your side, you're ready to take in every thrilling moment of it.

As Arctic disappears into the crowd, you and Katana make your way to a vantage point where you can watch the race unfold. With the roar of engines and the cheers of the crowd filling the air, you can't help but feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through you.

"So, are you Arctic's girlfriend?" you ask, trying to break the silence between you two. She chuckles, shaking her head. "Hell no," she replies, a hint of amusement in her voice. You can't help but laugh at her response. "I figured as much," you say, feeling relieved that you didn't overstep any boundaries.

Katana grins, giving you a playful nudge. "Nah, we're just friends," she says, her tone light and casual. "Arctic's more like a brother to me than anything else." You nod in understanding, feeling a sense of camaraderie with her. "I get it," you say. "Suguru's the same way for me. We've been friends for years."

"Thank god," Katana says, catching you by surprise. "I've heard them mention you a couple of times in Suguru's shop, and I thought you were his girlfriend at one point." You smirk, nudging her shoulder playfully. "Is there something you wanna tell me?" you tease, enjoying the banter between you.

She blushes as she sucks on the cherry lollipop, her admission catching you off guard. "Okay, yeah, I might have a little crush on Suguru," she confesses, her cheeks flushing pink.

You can't help but smile at her honesty, feeling a sense of camaraderie with her. "Hey, nothing wrong with that," you say, giving her a reassuring nod. "Suguru's a great guy." Katana nods, her blush deepening. "Yeah, he is," she agrees, her voice soft. "But I don't think he sees me that way."

You reach out to pat her arm comfortingly. "You never know unless you try," you offer, feeling a surge of empathy for her. Katana smiles warmly, her gaze meeting yours as she looks down at you. Katana smirks, throwing a hint your way. "You know, Arctic has been single for way too long now," she says, her tone playful. You playfully roll your eyes in response. "Relax, I barely even know the man," you say, teasingly.

Katana laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Fair enough," she concedes, her tone light. "But who knows? Maybe tonight's the night you two hit it off." You chuckle, diverting the conversation. "Oh look, the race is gonna start," you say, pointing towards the cars lining up next to each other. Each vehicle boasts a unique build and design, reflecting the personality and style of its owner.

As the cars rev their engines and the crowd erupts into cheers, you can't help but feel a sense of thrill coursing through you. With Katana by your side, you know that tonight's race is bound to be an unforgettable experience.

As the countdown begins and the engines roar loudly, you can feel the tension in the air building with each passing second. The anticipation is palpable as the crowd holds its breath, waiting for the signal to start. Seconds later, the cars speed off in a blur of motion, leaving behind a trail of smoke and excitement. The crowd erupts into cheers and applause as they watch the racers disappear into the distance.

As the cars navigate the sharp turns with ease, it's clear to see that Arctic is in the lead. His car moves with precision and grace, effortlessly drifting around the corners with skill and finesse. 

You and Katana watch in awe as Arctic's car powers ahead of the competition, leaving the other racers trailing behind in his wake. With each turn of the race, his lead only seems to widen, solidifying his position as the frontrunner.

As Arctic's car speeds towards the finish line, you can't help but feel a sense of excitement building inside you. With each passing moment, it becomes increasingly clear that tonight's race is his to win, a testament to his skill and determination as a racer.

As the crowd erupts into cheers and applause, you and Katana join in, cheering Arctic on as he crosses the finish line in first place. With a victorious grin, he emerges from his car, basking in the adulation of the crowd as he celebrates his well-deserved win

You and Katana exchange excited glances before hurrying down to meet Arctic and Suguru by the finish line. As you approach, you can see Arctic grinning from ear to ear, his victory evident in the way he holds himself with confidence.

"That was one hell of a win, Arctic," Katana says, her voice filled with admiration as she engulfs him in a hug. Arctic's smirk widens as he accepts her embrace, clearly relishing in the victory. As he looks over at the other two men, who look bitter for losing, Arctic's expression remains confident. He knows he raced well and earned his win fair and square. "Thanks, Katana," Arctic replies, his tone appreciative. 

You smile and give Arctic a small high five. "Good shit right there. Guess Suguru was right," you say, chuckling. Suguru stacks the wad of cash down on Arctic's arms, a satisfied smile on his face. "Three million yen for the winner," he announces, the sound of money rustling in the air.

Arctic takes the money with confidence, his smirk widening at the sight of his winnings. "Just know, next time I'm not letting you win so easily, Arctic," a taller, lean man says, his voice laced with challenge. His dark hair contrasts with the scar on his lip, giving him a rugged appearance.

Arctic's smirk doesn't falter as he looks up to meet the man's gaze. "Looking forward to it, Scar," he replies, his tone confident. You and Katana exchange glances, sensing the tension in the air. Just before things got serious, the sound of cop sirens echoed in the distance, sending a ripple of panic through the crowd. "Cops!" someone yells, their voice carrying over the chaos as everyone scrambles to their vehicles, engines roaring to life.

Your heart races as you realize the gravity of the situation. You mentally curse yourself for parking so far away, but there's no time to dwell on it now. With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you follow the crowd, weaving your way through the chaos as you search for your car. Amidst the commotion, you spot Suguru and Katana ahead, already making their way towards their cars. You bury the worry at the back of your mind as you make your way near the 7/11, unlocking your dark purple Nissan 240sx. Parking this far did slow you down from the rest of the people, but you waste no time as the engine roars to life.

With a quick glance in the rearview mirror to make sure no cops are in sight, you swerve out of the parking lot, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you push the car to its limits. The familiar roar of the engine is music to your ears as you navigate through the streets, weaving in and out of traffic with practiced skill.

Your heart races as you mentally curse yourself out, the cops hot on your tail as you swerve through any sharp turns between buildings, desperately trying to lose them. Your eyes widen as you spot a familiar white-haired man running between the alleyways, with cops right on his heels.

"Fuck," you mutter to yourself, realizing it's Arctic. Without hesitation, you stop the car and unlock the doors. "Get in!" you yell, urgency in your voice.

Arctic wastes no time, jumping into the car as the engine roars to life. With the cops still in pursuit, you hit the gas, speeding off with determination. The adrenaline courses through your veins as you navigate the streets, pushing the car to its limits in an effort to outmaneuver the law.

The sound of sirens fills the air as the cops continue their pursuit, hot on your tail once again. But you refuse to give up without a fight, weaving through traffic and taking every opportunity to lose them.

As minutes passed and you finally lost the cops, Arctic looked back to make sure they were completely gone before turning to you. "Since when the fuck did you learn to run away from cops?" he asks, his tone incredulous. Arctic raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. Sliding off his leather jacket to reveal a tight tank top that shows off his muscles and tattoos, he leans back in his seat with a smirk. 

Arctic chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And this 240sx is sick, although we could tune it up for you," he says, taking a good look at the clean interior. You smile and nod, intrigued. "Speaking of which, where the hell is your car?” Arctic chuckles, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I lost the cops and parked in an empty garage," he explains. "I figured walking could help me blend in, but those cops know my pretty face too well."

You arch an eyebrow at Arctic's response, a smirk playing on your lips. "Okay then, where to, pretty boy?" you tease, your eyes focused on the road ahead as your hand shifts the stick shift with ease. Arctic returns your smirk, his gaze fixed on you with amusement. "Suguru's shop," he suggests, his voice confident. "He should be there by now with Katana."

You nod in agreement, a sense of determination driving you forward as you turn the radio up. The familiar beats of your favorite song fill the car, adding to the excitement of the night.

“♫ nights like this - the kid laroi...”

As you and Arctic come to a stop in front of Suguru's shop, you both exchange confused glances as you notice that it's empty. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, a sense of unease settling in the pit of your stomach.

You turn to Arctic, who looks just as perplexed as you feel. "This is weird," you mutter, your voice tinged with concern. Arctic nods in agreement, his expression serious. "Yeah, it doesn't make sense," he agrees, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of activity.

Without hesitation, you dial Suguru's phone number, holding your breath as you wait for him to answer. "Hello?" his voice comes through the line, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. "Hey, Suguru, where are you? Are you with Katana?" you ask, trying to keep the concern out of your voice.

Suguru's voice comes through slightly muffled, and you can hear loud music pulsing in the background. "Yeah, we're at my place."

You exchange a glance with Arctic, both of you puzzled by Suguru's response. "We're outside your shop, it's empty. We thought you'd be here," you explain, your confusion growing. "We? Who are you with?" Suguru asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

You pause, exchanging a puzzled glance with Arctic before replying, "Uh, I'm with Arctic. We were just checking in on the shop and noticed it was empty."

There's a moment of silence on the other end of the line before Suguru responds, his voice tinged with confusion. "Arctic? What's he doing there?" he asks, sounding genuinely puzzled. You relay the explanation to Suguru over the phone, "He needed a ride. Cops were hot on him," you explain succinctly, trying to keep the conversation light.

There's a brief pause before Suguru responds, his voice filled with understanding. "Ah, gotcha. Thanks for looking out for him," he says, sounding relieved. You nod, even though Suguru can't see you. "No problem. We'll catch up with you later," you say, before ending the call.

"It's just us tonight then," you reply, slipping your phone into your back pocket as you glance around the empty street. Arctic sighs beside you, pulling out the keys to the shop. "Want a cold beer?" he offers, gesturing towards the door of the shop and holding it open for you.

"Sure," you smile, appreciating the offer as you step inside. The familiar scent of grease and engine oil fills the air, mingling with the sound of distant traffic outside. As Arctic heads over to the fridge, you take a moment to look around the shop, feeling a sense of comfort in the familiar surroundings.

Sitting on one of the chairs, you watch as Arctic walks back with two cans of beer in his hands. He settles on the floor in front of you, opening one of the cans with a sigh. "Hey, y/n, I'm very thankful you saved my ass back there," he says, chuckling softly as he props his hands on his knees.

You smile, taking another sip of beer as Arctic's expression turns serious. "It's nothing really," you insist, but he shakes his head. "It is actually. If we got caught..." His voice trails off, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I would've gotten you in deep shit."

Confused, you tilt your head, trying to understand what he means. "What do you mean?" you ask, furrowing your brow. "It's not all about cars and underground racing, at least for some people," Arctic says, taking a thoughtful sip of his beer. You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by his statement. "There's more to it?" you ask, curious to hear his perspective.

Arctic's chuckle fills the air as he teases, "Way more to it, I would tell ya', but I don't wanna scare such a pretty girl off." His playful comment makes you blush, feeling a warm flush spread across your face. "But now you've got me all curious," you admit, a playful glint in your eyes.

Arctic smiles, enjoying your reaction. "Maybe someday I'll tell you the whole story. But for now, let's just say that underground racing isn't always what it seems," he says, taking another sip of his beer. You nod, intrigued by his mysterious past. "I'll hold you to that," you say, a smile playing on your lips.

You both sit in the quiet of the shop, enjoying each other's company and the cold beers, "Call me Satoru," Arctic says, breaking the silence with a gentle smile. You nod, feeling a sense of closeness with him as he shares his name. "Satoru," you repeat, the name rolling off your tongue easily.

"Nice to officially meet you, Satoru," you say, returning his smile with one of your own.

As Satoru watched your warm smile light up your face, a pang of guilt burrowed into his heart. You were genuine, and he could see that just by looking at you. He found himself wanting to get to know you more, to delve into the depths of your personality and share his own secrets with you. But as he considered the dangers that lay ahead, he couldn't help but wonder if he was ready to bring you down to his level.

The underground racing scene was fraught with danger and uncertainty, and Satoru knew that involving you in his world could put you at risk. He couldn't bear the thought of bringing harm to someone as kind and genuine as you.

Lost in his thoughts, Satoru grappled with his inner turmoil, unsure of what to do next. Should he distance himself from you, to keep you safe from the dangers that surrounded him? Or should he take a chance and open up to you, risking both of your safety in the process?

"I'm sure you won't scare me, Satoru," you whispered, your gaze drifting off into the distance, lost in thought. Satoru's heart skipped a beat at your words, surprised by your response. He had expected you to be cautious, to pull away from him in light of the dangers that surrounded him. But instead, you showed him a kindness and understanding that he had not anticipated.

"We all have a story that changes someone's perception of us, don't we?" you said, your voice soft as you looked at Satoru. He met your gaze, sensing the depth of your words. There was a knowing look in your eyes, a recognition that you, too, had secrets that you kept hidden from the world.

Satoru nodded in agreement, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, we do," he said, his voice tinged with understanding.

-

"I was thinking we should get rid of the seats and add better ones, upgrade the suspension of your car, and change these damn stock tires," Suguru chuckled, wiping the sweat beads from his forehead. You nodded, crossing your arms as you watched Suguru take a couple of notes on your car. "Also upgrading the engine would be a big help. Geez, next thing you know, you're the next Arctic," you chuckled.

Suguru sighed as he made his way towards you, a hint of concern in his eyes. "But your pockets are gonna hurt," he admitted, his tone serious. You smirked, feeling a surge of determination. "I said give me notes on what would be best for my car. If I didn't have the money, I wouldn't be coming to you," you said confidently.

Suguru chuckled, rolling his eyes playfully. "One night with Arctic and you're already acting like him," he mumbled teasingly, giving you a playful nudge.

Before you could respond, a loud engine roared through the parking lot of Suguru's shop. You both turned to look, and there was Satoru's white skyline, making an entrance. You couldn't help but smile as he stepped out of the car, looking effortlessly good in his baggy cargo pants paired with a black tight compression shirt.

"Hey, pretty girl," Satoru greeted you with a warm smile, giving you a small hug before turning to give Suguru a fist bump. Suguru's eyebrow raised at the new nickname Arctic had given you. You couldn't help but blush at the nickname, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. "Hey, Satoru," you replied, returning his smile.

"Satoru?" Suguru asked, a playful tone in his voice. "Damn, I'm hurt he doesn't even let me call him that," he joked, grabbing onto the cloth of his shirt near his heart and acting as if he had just been stabbed.

You chuckled, trying to shake off the unexpected flutter in your chest as your eyes lingered on Satoru longer than you had anticipated. Satoru caught your gaze and offered you a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. There was something comforting about his presence, something that made you feel at ease.

You quickly looked away, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks. "So, about those car upgrades..." you began, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory. Satoru's laughter filled the air, his steps closing the gap between you with subtle determination.

He was fully aware of your attempt of diverting the conversation, noticing how shy you got as your face turned red.

“♫ poison - bell biv devoe..."

As the two boys worked on the car with what they had, your gaze kept drifting to Satoru. Sweat beaded on his forehead, making the tips of his hair damp. His biceps flexed with each movement, drawing your attention as you smiled to yourself.

"Someone can't keep her eyes off, huh?" Startling you a bit, Katana, who unexpectedly arrived, gave you a warm hug. You laughed nervously, feeling a bit embarrassed at being caught. "Hey, Katana," you said, returning her hug. "I, uh, was just admiring their work."

Katana grinned, giving you a knowing look. "Sure, sure," she teased, before turning her attention to Suguru and Satoru. "Hey boys." As she greeted the boys, they got back to work on the car. "Damn, you have a pretty sick car already." Katana said, taking a seat next to you. "And the color is gorgeous."

"Thanks, so, did anything happen last night with you and Suguru? I heard you headed back to his place after the race," you chuckled, nudging her playfully. She bit her lip, blushing slightly, and glanced over at the tall, muscular suguru, who had his hair half up, half down, focused on the machine in front of him. "We might've made out" She giggled as you smiled in surprise.

"Well, what about you? I heard you and Arctic were at the shop alone?" She smirked. Unbeknownst to you, Satoru smiled to himself, pleased that he brought up in the conversation. "Yeah, well we just talked." You shrugged.

Katana's face dropped, "You're lying?" Satoru couldn't help but laugh lightly at her reaction. "No, I'm not...but I need to know the details about you and Suguru!" You say shrugging off your interaction with Satoru.

Soon enough the two boys had enough of working with the car, meanwhile you and Katana had just finished up catching up any latest gossip in your lives. "So, the cars gonna need to stay for the night." Satoru says leaning on the wall next to you.

"I'll take you home, yeah?" Satoru suggested, with a knowing smirk on his face. Katana looked over at Suguru with a playful grin, "Me and Sugu are heading out," Without hesitation Suguru and Katana parted their own way, leaving you and Satoru alone in the garage of Suguru's shop.

The engine beneath you roared lowly as you sat in Satoru's white skyline, the awkward silence lingering between you two as he scrolled through his phone, looking for a song to play in order to keep the ride less awkward.

"So how's the car looking so far?" You asked as you nervously play with your fingers, he smirked setting his phone down. "Looking pretty nasty right now, soon you'll be driving around looking pretty badass." His eyes glued onto you.

"Pretty car and a pretty girl driving it, you're gonna have to watch out." You blushed at his words, his voice being less playful this time...more seductive. You cocked your head to the side, "Yeah?"

He leaned in closer, his face only a few inches away from yours, his scent of sweat and musk overwhelming your senses. You could feel the heat radiating from him making your heart race. His eyes bore with amusement and something else you couldn't quite catch "Yeah."

As you smiled he couldn't but chuckle as your response, his thumb gently tracing the bottom of you lip, "Watch out for what?" You whispered as your eyes shadowed pure lust.

Closing the gap between you two, his lips gently meet yours. He kissed you slowly and deeply, his hand on your jaw keeping your head tilted towards him. His tongue slipping into your mouth, exploring every inch as the kiss deepens.

“♫ Gata Only - FloyyMenor, Cris MJ..."

"Is it bad that I've been wanting this ever since last night?" You whispered, gently pulling away from the kiss as a string of saliva connects between yours and Satoru's lips. He chuckled as he wiped away some of the saliva from your lip with his thumb.

"You've been thinking about me?" He said with a smirk, his eyes roaming over your face, you nodded as your eyes were glued to his icy blue eyes and his peachy pink lips. His hands still cupping your jaw as his thumb traces your lower lip.

"Come here, sit" patting his thigh, indicating for you to straddle his lip. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn't find him attractive the first night you met him. But you honestly didn't expect the night to turn out like this just on the second night of knowing him either.

"Are you sure?" You asked in a whispered manner. Satoru smiled nodding his head, his hands gently pulling you to sit on his lap. He positioned you so that you were straddling his thighs, your body pressed against his.

"Perfect view of my pretty girl." Satoru mumbled as his hands gripped your hip tighter, looking up at you as his eyes roamed over your body. He ran his hands up and down your thighs, his touch gentle but firm. He pushed your skirt up slightly, his fingers tracing the bare skin of your inner thighs.

Sending shivers down your spine, being touched by someone was something you definitely lacked as the years went on. "Satoru," You softly whimpered. He paused at the sound of his name. Pulling away slightly so he could get a good look at your face. "Yes, my pretty girl?" His voice was low and his eyes also now filled with lust.

"Touch me more."

A wide smirk spreads across his face hearing your request, "Anything for you my love." His hands grip you tighter, pulling you flush agaisnt his chest. His lips onslaught on your neck, planting hot, open mouthed kisses along your skin, his hands explore your body, roaming under your shirt.

As he continued to explore your body, his hands and lips leaving a trail of fire wherever they touch. He pushes your shirt up, his fingers tracing over the bare skin of your breast. "Beautiful," he groans as his lips move down to your chest, planting kisses along your collarbone and the top of your breast.

He groaned loudly as he feels you rock back and forth, the friction between your bodies making him lose his composure. His hands grip your hips even tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he urges you to keep moving. Smirking at his sudden lost of composure you lean in. His soft peachy lips sweetly lingering onto yours.

He moans into the kiss, his lips parting to allow your tongue entrance. He kisses you back hungrily, his tongue tangling with yours as he pull you even closer to him. One of his hands move up to the back of your head, fingers gripping your hair as he devours your mouth.

"Fuck me," You mutter pulling away from the kiss.

Before Satoru could even respond, interrupting the moment your phone vibrated with the loud ringtone. He looked at your phone in annoyance. The heavy shared breaths lingered as you grab your phone from your bag.

Your blood ran cold reading the contact in front of you,

Dad <3

Next

[paddockbunny]

list a, #230 and maybe Danny

Full House

Summary : Daniel had only been home a matter of days and yet not one of them had the pair of you been alone. When you finally snap, what happens when you finally get it off your chest that it’s been bothering you. Rating : 18+ Pairing : Daniel Ricciardo x Reader Word Count : 2,768 ONE SHOT Trigger Warnings : 18+, NSFW, adult language, PinV sex, unprotected sex, graphic descriptions, semi public (? dont know if this really is semi public but people can overhear). Images : curated from Pintrest

List : List A Prompt : Are you sure? Once I start I don't think I'm able to stop”

The house was full. Again.

The sound of mixing male voices all winding around one another's with intermittent laughter met your ears as soon as you opened the door to the LA home you shared with your boyfriend, Daniel. Your shoulders dropped and a sigh left your lips while your head rolled backwards. It was day nine. Day nine since he had been home and the ninth day he had had his friends over. In nine days the only time you had gotten your boyfriend to yourself was at night when he saddled up behind you in bed - or when he was horny and wanted to fuck - and the hour or so in the morning before his pals started showing up at the door like children asking if he could go out to play. And that was what annoyed you most, how Daniel was usually the one throwing out the invites and asking his friends over all the time. You suspected today was no different. As around loud crack of laughter reverberated through the hallway down to where you were you had to push away the intrusive thought that had been swirling for the past three days.

He doesn’t want to spend time with you alone.

At first you thought it was ridiculous to even contemplate that it could be true. But slowly, it played on your mind more and more to the point you started getting a little stressed and anxious about what it would mean if it turned out you were correct and it was true. But as you heard your boyfriends iconic laugh you were jolted right back into the present and your arms suddenly ached with how heavy the bags in them were. Anger suddenly came flooding over you as you realised how you felt like a housewife.

“Daniel! I need some help!” You shouted. No answer “DANIEL!” You shouted louder. But still nothing. You groaned frustratingly before dumping the bags down on the ground. This was just so typical of Daniel. He got so caught up in the moment, the fun he was having, that he zoned out. Another round of laughter hit you and this time it pissed you off.

So at risk of making yourself seem like a “psycho girlfriend” you stomped through. Daniel was in the chair, his legs over the side of it, with a big goofy grin on his face. He looked like he was king holding court and instantly it pissed you off. “Oh, babe, hey….” You glared at him then rolled your eyes and swiftly stomped away upstairs.

You yanked open the drawer and slammed in Daniel’s freshly washed t-shirts. You opened a different drawer and flung in some of your bras and banged it closed. You were taking out your frustration on the inanimate objects around you. Daniel was so blasé downstairs. He was so unconcerned looking that you felt your blood boiling. He didn’t try to explain why you were joined by the boys (yet again) nor did he try to make any forms of apologies for it either. You were so lost in your annoyance that you missed him entering into your shared bedroom until he said your name gently followed by; “Are you mad at me?” Your teeth ground together and you didn’t want to look at him. You contemplated giving him the silent treatment. “Babe, c’mon…” you heard him sighing.

“Yes. I am mad at you, Daniel.” You snapped at him “Since you've been home you’ve been surrounded by people all the time. I’ve not…” you paused, feeling like you were really close to sounding crazy but if you didn’t get it off your chest now then you probably never would “I haven’t spent any time with you, just you, alone.”

Daniel’s blank face either showed he was unbothered by what you were saying or he understood perfectly. It made a heat rise upon your neck that you only got when you were nervous. You swallowed as he stared straight into your soul. “I thought you liked having people over?” His brows knitted in the middle looked totally flummoxed by your omission “I do….” You sighed. “But not all the time Dan.” For a brief moment you felt like you had made a mistake confessing but, no, he had to know why this was a problem.

“Do you not want to be around me? Just me?” It came out more defensive than what you intended but the meaning was still the same. Daniel still had that confused look upon his face. “I just feel like, well, that you’d rather be with the boys than me.”

“What?” Momentarily his bottom lip dropped open in what seemed like shock before it disappeared “I’m sorry.” He apologised instantly. “I genuinely didn’t think. I thought because you loved being hostess you…fuck, oh my God, I feel so selfish. I’m so sorry.” He came rushing toward you. His arms outstretched wanting your body in them. In your mind you believed Daniel wouldn’t have even realised what you were feeling a little off so there was no way he would be doing it deliberately. So what was coming out of his mouth was really just confirming that.

As his arms engulfed you, hugged you with all his might, your worries all but melted away. His lips pressed a soft kiss to your temple while you breathed in his scent - an act almost like you were grounding yourself - and you felt his grip on your waist tighten. You pressed your cheek to his chest and took note of how your mind eased and calmed.

“I’m going to go kick them out.” He said quietly. You almost missed him saying it because you were lost listening to the gentle, soft thudding of his heart. Tilting your head up you saw him smiling faintly down at you. His words clicked in your brain and you told him he didn’t have to do that. “I do like hosting, Daniel. I just need my Danny time too.” It was only a matter of two or three seconds till his lips hard pressed yours.

At first the kiss simply signalled to you he was listening to what you were saying and he understood you. But as it continued the motivation very distinctly began to change. His hands slid your top up and glided against the skin of your back while yours gripped the front of his hoody tighter. Daniel’s tongue effortlessly skimmed across your lower lip and it was a very obvious signal he wanted you to admit him entrance to your mouth. Which you didn’t need to be asked twice to do. You granted him easy permission. His tongue coasted over yours and you could barely hold back the moan that had built deep inside of you.

“Is this what you meant by “Danny time”?” When you looked at him - with your eyes no doubt filled to the brim with lust - you could tell how cheeky, cocky confidence had exploded in him. “It’s a start.” You replied back. Your voice mirroring the same amount of sass as his had done moments before. His dark eyes that you adored so much turned even darker while he drunk in your features. The spark you had been playing with was igniting to a roaring fire and you had a deep hunger that desperately needed feeding. The intense rising heat that burned inside of you scorched all over your skin as Daniel’s eyes practically screamed out what he was thinking.

Without saying anything your hands went to the hem of his soft self branded white hoody and lifted it. He didn’t resist. Instead he helped remove the item completely and it gave you the briefest of moments to scan down the tanned, taught skin of his abs before glancing even lower to check out the tent pitched inside his matching white sweatpants. Your mouth watered at the sheer thought of him - which only matched how wet your panties had gotten in the few short moments since he initially kissed you. “Let me send them home…” He practically purred against the skin of your collarbone. “No.” Your voice strong and not at all pleading “I’m not waiting for you any longer.” Your head pulled back so he had no choice but to look at you “Fuck me…”

The noise that left Daniel was a loud, very deliberate groan. He loved when you vocalised exactly what you wanted and how you wanted it. Dirty talk was sort of a thing the pair of you had going on and even if you had to blow your own trumpet, you were both VERY good at it. He gripped your waist and turned you so your butt pressed against the dresser. His hand went into your hair and pulled backward so your neck was exposed to him.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his lips hovering above the flesh of your throat “Once I start, I won’t be able to stop.” That’s exactly what you were hoping for. Daniel waited for your vocal response but you didn’t give him one. Instead, your hand immediately went straight to the tight space between your bodies and palmed him through the soft cotton of his sweats. His eyes closed, head rolled back at your touch, his mouth fell open and a dangerously loud groan streamed straight out of it. As his pleasure painted a smirk upon your own lips, it also sent a pulsating ache between your thighs that you desperately needed him to sort.

“Fuck…” He whispered as he looked back at you. Staring at him. Full of sheer desperation. And he couldn’t wait any longer. He hurriedly unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them down over your butt and thighs with haste. Taking the thin scrap of black lace you wore as panties along with it. When free he lifted you to sit on the edge of the wooden dresser behind you. Your leg up around his waist, hands trailing up and gripping hold of his wide, strong neck. More swear words poured out of him as his fingers glided over the sensitive delicate flesh between your thighs. “You definitely need more Danny time.” He referenced how the pair of you had found yourself in this position and it made you smile broadly at him. It hadn’t been your plan to storm upstairs and expose what you had been feeling the past few days in the manner you had but, as he pulled down his sweatpants and let his absolutely mesmerising member spring free, you were glad you had.

A lust fuelled, loud moan escaped past your lips without hesitation the moment he pushed inside of you. His lips were swift to swallow the second one that spilled as he pulled back out before sinking in again, this time even deeper. There was no time for warming up - no foreplay was ever needed with him - not with his friends downstairs awaiting his return. That didn’t mean Daniel was going to sacrifice his performance for them. He was going to give it to you exactly how he knew you wanted it. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your thigh as he began getting into a steady rhythm. His name stuttered past your swollen lips as your hand reached behind you to stop you from falling into the mirror that sat upon the wall. The sound of the dresser beginning to rock with the movements he was making while he fucked you echoed around the room. You figured his friends would probably be able to hear it downstairs - the master bedroom was right on top of the lounge they were sitting in after-all - and not for one second did you care they were kept waiting. In fact, you moaned louder, just so they knew Daniel had chosen you over them right now.

His hand went to your mouth and a naughty smirk appeared on his mouth. “You want them to hear don’t you?” He twigged and you nodded quickly. He released you just in time. His cock angled differently inside of you and he was now repeatedly hitting the fleshy little bump inside that made you see stars, with every single powerful thrust. “DAN…” Your hand slammed down on the dark wood you were sitting on as your toes curled and teeth gritted. “Kinky.” He purred against your throat when it fell back while you gasped for air. The noise of the wood on the wall increased as he quickened his pace. But as the thought of his friends downstairs evaporated and any remnants of the mini argument that lead to having loud, unexpected sex, fled from your mind, the only thing replacing it was the feeling of your orgasm begin to capture and ravish your body.

As eyes opened and you grabbed hold of Daniel’s shoulder, his eyes locked with his and you could tell he was close. He moaned and asked if you were close but before you even had the chance to answer, your body answered for you. The delicious high exploded inside of you. Your body shook and stuttered as the climax captured every shred of your being and soul and you felt like you were being kissed by fire. Daniel kept his strong, unrelenting rhythm up while you came. He wanted every single last morsel of your high he could produce from you before his own hit him. Which, it didn’t take long for it to do just that. Daniel came just as hard as you had done. He pulled you clean off the drawers and held you to him as he released deep inside of you. His fingertips digging into your flesh so hard you would have deep purple bruises. But you didn’t care. You felt him twitching as his milky seed filled you and you wished you had let him get rid of his friends so the pair of you could immediately go again, you hadn’t had enough of him yet.

High’s were levelling out as Daniel finally pulled himself out of you. He smiled broadly before he leaned in and kissed you. The kiss was softer than before. It was almost peaceful now both of you felt satisfied. Delicately he placed you back down on your feet and told you to wait where you were. You knew exactly where Daniel was disappearing to. He was going to get you something to clean up. He always did this, made sure to clean you up after he made a mess. It was sweet, comforting even. Daniel returned with a warm cloth and a towel and nodded over at the bed for you to sit down on. You did exactly as he asked and took a tentative seat on the edge of the bed. Your eyes followed his movements as he got down on his knees and his big palms went on top of yours, using slight pressure to spread them open tenderly. Daniel pressed the warm wash cloth between your thighs. You knew he enjoyed this as much as he enjoyed actually having sex. It was a bit of a kink of his. He rather liked watching his spent seed slowly dripping out of you after he came inside.

“Do you want me to get rid of them now?” He asked playfully as if he already knew the answer. He would have presumed you would say yes. That you would feel a little embarrassed if they had overheard the pair of you banging in the room above them. Or the fact you wanted a round two - which naturally of course you wanted a round two (and three and four, all over the house) so wanted them gone. But you surprised him. You raised your eyebrows and shrugged. “No, they can stay for lunch actually.” You pointed at your panties lying on the floor and motioned for him to get them for you. “I’m going to need those though.” “Babe….They’ve probably heard everything, are you sure I shouldn’t just” he had done what you wanted, he passed you the black thong he had taken off you fifteen minutes before. “And? So what if they’ve heard.” You shrugged pulling your still damp panties on and rising to your feet, Daniel was still on his knees before you, looking up with an amused (yet slightly shocked) look upon his face. You took the opportunity to bend over right then and kiss him. “If they’re going to be in our home so much then they’re going to have to listen to us having sex. They should be thankful we’ve not done it in front of them.”

[chvoswxtch]

take the day off

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: after an intense night with your bodyguard, a new revelation completely changes your perception of him, and your feelings along with it.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of blood & violence

word count: 3.5k

a/n: first of all, thank you so much to @lowkeythor for the request that inspired this whole series! & thank you so much to everyone that enjoyed the first part and wanted more. i’m still figuring out exactly what I wanna do with this series as far as how many parts it will be, but it will definitely be a slow burn! as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Dozens of stars intermittently twinkled against the backdrop of a deep sapphire night sky. Some of them were aligned in perfect constellations you couldn’t remember the names of. The moon was nowhere in sight, but its glow still lingered through the glass of your window. The rest of your room was dark apart from the light peaking through beneath your door from the hallway. Sleep had evaded you for the past twenty minutes, and the lull didn’t seem to be coming any time soon.

Turning over onto your back, you closed your eyes as you let out a deep sigh. The events of the night flashed behind your eyelids like a home movie on a projector, and you wished you could cut some parts from the reel. You could almost still feel the warmth of Frank’s body as he’d held you in the living room, the firmness of his chest beneath his shirt, the rough pads of his fingers dancing along the exposed skin on your back. 

Tonight was the most he had ever spoken to you since he’d been hired. It completely changed your perception of him. Initially you’d thought he was a bit of a dick. He was always quiet, never spoke more than he had to, and the only emotions he seemed capable of expressing were anger, annoyance, and any variations of those two. But tonight you’d seen him smile, granted it was tiny and fleeting, but God it was a beautiful sight. You wondered what he looked like when he really smiled, teeth and all. You also wondered if his lips were as soft as they looked.

Stop it.

You were being ridiculous. He was your bodyguard. He was hired to protect you. Everything he did for you tonight was because it was his job, not because he liked you. Even if it wasn’t totally unacceptable and unethical for you two to have anything other than a professional relationship, any slight chance you ever had with Frank Castle went completely out the window tonight. Maybe tipsy you couldn’t be trusted after all. 

A sound from outside your room had you stilling completely, and your ears instantly perked up. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you quietly got out of bed and silently made your way across the room to the door, placing your ear against the door to get a better listen. It sounded like drawers were being shuffled and cabinets were being searched in the bathroom at the end of the hall.

Frank.

Carefully twisting the knob on your door, you pulled it back slowly and peaked out into the hall. Your brows knit together curiously seeing that the guest room across the hall from yours was open, but empty. Turning your head slightly, you saw the bathroom door was open and the light was on, but there wasn’t a sign of Frank at all.

The events from earlier tonight came flooding back all at once, and your fingers trembled slightly as they gripped onto the door knob.

“Frank?”

Heavy boots thudded against ceramic tile, and Frank immediately appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. He must have heard the nerves in your voice because his eyes darted between you and the hallway as if he was searching for something, finally settling his gaze back on you.

“Yeah?”

A sigh of relief left your lips and you let your head rest against your bedroom door as you took a moment to gather yourself. Catching his eyes again, you shook your head slightly as you gave him a timid smile.

“Just…making sure that was you.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I was still awake. Um…are you looking for something?”

“Yeah, I was tryin’ to find a first aid kit. Thought I had one in my truck. You got one?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Nah, just gotta wrap this.”

Frank briefly held up his right hand and the motion immediately caught your attention. It looked like he had washed all of the blood off his hands, but his knuckles were still stained crimson. A slight pout formed on your lips as you fully pushed open your bedroom door, making your way down the hall towards him. Without thinking, you carefully picked up his wrist and placed his hand in your palm to inspect it. You couldn’t tell what to focus on first; the size of his hand compared to yours or the damage that was a result of your selfishness.

“Frank-”

“It ain’t as bad as it looks.”

“Are we looking at the same thing?”

Lifting your gaze up to meet his, you sucked in a quick breath noticing how close you were to him again.

And that he had undone a few buttons on his shirt.

“I’ve had worse.”

Quickly dropping your gaze back to his hand and hoping you hadn’t been caught staring, you nodded slowly and gently tugged at his wrist.

“I have one in my bathroom. Come on.”

Frank didn’t budge at all when you tried to tug him along. Instead he gave a shake of his head and pulled his wrist from your grasp.

“If you can just grab it for me, I got it.”

“Frank, this is all my fault. Please let me fix it.”

“It really ain’t-”

“Please?”

Frank started down at you silently for a moment, glancing down at his hand before searching your eyes again. He parted his lips to let out a deep exhale as he turned his head to the side, eyes drifting over the bathroom before finally nodding and gesturing towards the hall.

“Alright, fine.”

As he sat down on the toilet seat so that you could be somewhat even in height, it occurred to you that Frank had never been in your bedroom before, which he had to go through to get to your bathroom. A tiny piece of you panicked, not even remembering if it was clean or not, hoping you hadn’t left anything laying around like a bra, or God forbid something worse. After you retrieved the first aid kit from under the sink and opened it on the counter, you grabbed a packet that contained an alcohol wipe and tore it open. 

“This is gonna sting.”

Frank only grunted in response. Wrapping your fingers around his wrist lightly, you dabbed as delicately as you could at the wounds covering Frank’s knuckles. Out of the corner of your eye you saw his jaw clench, and you quietly whispered an apology as you tried to disinfect it as quickly as possible. Your brows furrowed as you studied the angry flesh that was split unevenly.

“Is that normal?”

“What?”

“For this to happen. They almost look swollen.”

“You hit somethin’ hard enough, yeah. They’ll go down.”

You hit something hard enough.

A brief glimpse of that man’s mangled face popped into your head and it made you shudder. Swallowing thickly, you pulled out another packet of antibiotic cream and grabbed a q-tip from a jar on your counter. You delicately applied it to each of his knuckles, making sure they were evenly coated.

“You don’t know how to hit?”

Glancing up from Frank’s hand, you shot him a puzzled look as a breathless laugh escaped your mouth.

“If I did, I wouldn’t need you.”

Frank’s eyes narrowed slightly at your comment, and you shook your head as you smiled to yourself and reached for a packet of gauze.

“No Frank, I don’t know how. I’ve never hit someone before. I’ve never even slapped someone before.”

His eyes followed your every move as you threaded the gauze bandage carefully between each of his fingers to wrap his hand. Once you were satisfied with your work, you closed the first aid kit and pulled a bottle of advil out of your cabinet to set on the counter in front of him.

“I know you probably don’t need it, because you’re very tough, but I’m formally requesting you take it for my sake. And to help reduce the swelling.”

Frank’s eyes drifted from the bottle up to meet yours, a dry scoff leaving his lips as he shook his head at the tiny smirk covering your mouth. Running his tongue along his bottom lip, he motioned his head towards the bottle and looked up at you with the faintest of playful smiles curling at the corner of his lips.

“You mind openin’ that? See, someone got my hand all fucked up tonight. I ain’t supposed to be usin’ it, doc’s orders.”

“Oh, you caught my doctorate on the way in? I was hoping you’d notice.”

“Yeah, any other secret talents you hidin’?”

“A few. Gotta keep you on your toes, Castle.”

Dropping two pills into Frank’s uninjured hand, you placed the bottle back into your cabinet and stowed the first aid kit back beneath the sink. You motioned with your finger for him to follow you, thankful your back was to him as you tried to contain your giddiness as you led him to the kitchen. Frank never entertained your banter before. He never gave in to your questions or attempts to pull him out of his ironclad shell, and you weren’t sure why he was tonight, but you definitely weren’t complaining. Maybe tipsy you was right. Maybe you should cause a little bit more trouble sometimes.

Pulling a glass from the cabinet, you filled it with water and handed it to Frank. His fingers lightly grazed yours as he took the glass from you, motioning it in your direction as a signal of thanks before popping the pills into his mouth and downing half the water. You pulled open the freezer door and pulled out an ice pack, holding it out for him.

“Again, I know you probably don’t need this, but I’m making another formal request.”

“These uh, formal requests, I’m allowed to say no?”

“I don’t think there is anyone in this world that could make you do something you don’t wanna do, but I am a doctor, so.”

“Hard to argue with that. I mean you did go to-”

“Fancy doctor school.”

“Right, right. So bein’ a journalist, that’s…?”

“A cover.”

“Course. Makes sense.”

Frank guzzled the rest of the water and placed the glass in the sink, taking the ice pack with an exasperated sigh as he placed it over his hand and held it up in your direction to check your satisfaction. A soft smile took over your lips, and in a moment of vulnerability you found yourself feeling immensely grateful for his presence.

“Thank you.”

“You’re the doc.”

“No, I meant…for staying and…being so…so nice to me tonight. I um…I really appreciate you being here. I really didn’t wanna be alone.”

Whatever playful flame was dancing around in Frank’s eyes was immediately extinguished by your words, and he abruptly stood up a little straighter. He looked down at his hand and grabbed the ice pack, motioning it in your direction.

“Thanks for uh, fixin’ me up and all.”

“Thanks for letting me.”

Frank gave a slight nod of his head, making a low sound in the back of his throat in response. For a moment you both stood there silently, unsure of what to say to one another next. He cleared his throat as he looked everywhere around the kitchen but at you.

“You should get some sleep.”

A slight pang of disappointment cut through you as you realized whatever moment you two had been having was gone. The Frank you were used to was back, and he was throwing that barricade right back up.

“Right. So should you.”

You turned before he could see the despondency in your eyes, hearing the weight of his boots on the floor as he followed behind you down the hall. Stopping at your bedroom door, you did your best to appear neutral as you turned to face him and gestured towards the guest room.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Okay. Well, um…goodnight, again.”

“Night.”

No sweetheart this time. Guess it was nice while it lasted.

Forcing a tight lipped smile, you slipped back into your bedroom and closed the door. Resting your forehead against the cool wood, you closed your eyes and let out a deep breath as you heard the door to the guest room shut. 

It was going to be a really long night.

»»———　　———««

A good two hours had passed since your second interaction with Frank. Time seemed to pass like amber sap oozing from a wounded tree, trickling down languidly every time you checked the clock. You had overanalyzed every second, every word, every little movement, and you couldn’t figure out what exactly had caused Frank to shift so quickly. It was driving you absolutely insane, and you kept talking yourself out of getting up to wake him to ask him what the hell his problem was.

On one hand, Frank didn’t owe you anything. He didn’t have to be nice to you. He didn’t have to be here with you. He didn’t even technically have to speak to you. You were a job to him; nothing more, nothing less.

But if you were just a job, why was he here? Why was he being so nice to you out of the blue? Yeah, tonight had been scary for you. But it wasn’t exactly that close of a call. You weren’t in any real danger. Did he feel bad because you had cried? Why did he feel the need to comfort you? You were the one that had fucked up after all. He didn’t have to let you tend to his hand. He didn’t have to banter with you. So why did he? 

All these questions were brewing around in your head like a storm, and the one person that could answer them was right across the hall.

Fuck it.

Furiously throwing the covers off your body, you climbed out of bed and swiftly opened your bedroom door, standing face to face with the door that Frank was on the other side of in just three short steps. As you raised your fist prepared to knock hard enough to wake the dead, something in your subconscious unexpectedly halted your movements. You furrowed your brows as an uneasy feeling crept up your spine, and an image from earlier suddenly flashed in your head.

The memory of Frank standing in the bathroom with a few buttons of his shirt undone had instantly sent you into a daze, and you remembered quickly dropping your eyes before you had gotten caught staring. All at once that moment was no longer fuzzy in your head, and your brain had finally caught up enough to process the sight clearly. Frank had been wearing a chain around his neck, and there was a golden pendant hanging off of it that gleamed in the middle of his chest. 

You remembered it catching your eye, but you hadn’t gotten a chance to inspect it since you forced yourself to look away so quickly. What was it? And why was it filling you with an overwhelming sense of dread?

It almost looked like…

A wedding band.

»»———　　———««

Sleep never came. Guilt flooded your entire body the second it all clicked into place, and it had been gnawing at the pit of your stomach ever since. It was a simple, gold wedding band. It had to have been his, which meant Frank had been married. Maybe he still was. Maybe he was going through a divorce, holding onto that symbol of a promise and hoping for a different outcome. You felt like the biggest asshole on the planet for the way you had acted towards him.

Frank didn’t reject your relentless effort to get close to him because of his job or because he wasn’t into you, or…maybe he did, but it was most likely because you made him uncomfortable. Here he was just trying to do his damn job, possibly win back his wife he clearly still loved, and you were making his life hell for selfish reasons. Glancing at the clock on your phone, you let out a soft sigh as the numbers showed it was seven in the morning. Sleep was never gonna come.

As you quietly made your way past the closed guest room door and into the kitchen, you instantaneously paused when you saw Frank sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee in his uninjured hand. He seemed just as surprised to see you as you were to see him, but he quickly covered it up with a neutral expression, leaning back in the chair and setting the cup down while he eyed you curiously.

“You’re up awful early for someone that’s gotta have a hell of a hangover.”

You didn’t know what to say to him. All you could manage was a timid apparition of a smile as you nodded and made your way towards the cabinets to grab yourself a mug. Even though your back was to him, you could practically feel his gaze boring into you as you loaded a pod into your coffee machine and pressed the button to brew. You couldn’t look at him after your revelation last night.

“How you feelin’?”

“Better than I deserve.”

Normally you were the one asking all the questions. You figured if you didn’t ask any, Frank would revert back to his normal state of being stoic and silent. But for some reason, he was the one with the questions today.

“You take somethin’? Gotta have a killer headache I reckon.”

Responding with a quiet hum, you continued to fix your coffee the way you liked, feeling suddenly lucky that the layout of your kitchen kept you from having to face him. You’d hoped your luck would continue and you’d be able to slip into your office without having to exchange another word, but it had apparently run out. You weren’t sure how you didn’t hear him getting up, but as you turned to place your spoon in the sink, he was right there in front of you staring down at you with narrowed eyes. 

“You sure you’re feelin’ alright? You’re awful quiet this mornin’.”

Anxiety thundered loudly in your chest, and you found yourself having an extremely hard time maintaining eye contact with him. Why today, of all days, had he picked to be the chatty one?

“I’m sure.”

Frank squinted slightly at the smallness of your voice. The look in his eyes told you he didn’t believe you, and you did your best to appear nonchalant as you stepped around him to place your spoon in the sink with trembling fingers. For the first time since you’d met Frank, you wanted him to leave. 

“You…um, you can go.”

“No I can’t.”

Frank’s voice was rough as it cut through your quiet kitchen. He almost sounded…aggravated? Stepping around his large figure again, you grabbed your coffee off the counter and continued to avoid making eye contact with him.

“It’s alright. I don’t plan on going anywhere today.”

“Doesn’t mean I can just leave-”

“I’m telling you that you can.”

Looking up at him was a huge mistake. His features were rigid as he stared you down, taking a step forward in your direction as he nodded his head towards you.

“You want me gone?”

Frank’s voice was monotone as it came out, but there was an edge to it that rang in your ears. You quickly shook your head as you held your cup to your chest, clasping your shaky fingers tightly around the ceramic. You had to make a case he couldn’t argue with.

“I was a huge pain in the ass last night. I put you in a shitty situation, and I got you hurt-”

“I told you I was fine, and to quit worryin’ ‘bout me-”

“Frank, please. I feel really bad about it, okay? Please just take the day off. I’m gonna be in my office all day anyway getting caught up. I really don’t plan on going anywhere. If I need you, I’ll call. I promise.”

A muscle in Frank’s jaw feathered as he clenched it, and you noticed the way his fists tightened slightly at his sides. You could almost see the internal dispute behind his dark eyes as they continued to stare you down. Blowing an irritated exhale out of his nose, he nodded his head curtly.

“Fine. But Russo’s gonna have someone posted outside as soon as I step out that door. That ain’t up for debate.”

You gave a slight nod of your head in response, knowing it was best not to argue with Frank right now, and not having the energy to anyway. He gave you one last hard look before stomping over towards the table to grab his cup, downing the rest of its contents and setting it in the sink before he was practically slamming your front door shut behind him.

True to his word, an all black sleek vehicle pulled up outside of your place not even five minutes later, and Frank was gone.

tags: @jwjeepers @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Angel Lucifer x Human Reader: Third Preview

This may be the last big preview for this story, we’re gonna get a little more naughty soon.~ But I hope you enjoy! 🥰

Lucifer rubbed the back of his neck, gazing down at the ground. “Well…they weren’t happy.” Your face fell at his words. He glanced at you and took ahold of your hand. “Don’t worry, they won’t force you to be with Adam. They’ve come up with a different solution…”

Your head fell to the side, curious. “You don’t sound happy about it.”

Lucifer shook his head. “They’re going to give him another wife. I advised against it, but after the stunt I pulled today, they weren’t very keen on listening to me. Not that they ever do.”

Your eyes drifted down to the ground, the guilt bubbling up in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you breathed, “I caused this. I shouldn’t have run away, I-”

“No!” Lucifer cut you off, “No, this is not your fault, you did nothing wrong. What Adam did to you was cruel. I won’t let you blame yourself for his actions!” He gripped your hands tighter as he spoke. You nodded wordlessly, almost too stunned to speak.

But as you found your voice, something else had caught your eye. Tiny little creatures all around you, lighting up the night sky. They were hard to spot until a little yellow light flickered intermittently to indicate where they were. Lucifer noticed your distracted stare and turned to see what had caught your attention. You didn’t notice at first, but the little creatures started to float closer and closer to Lucifer, as if they were drawn to him by some unseen force. Or…maybe you could see what exactly had caused them to swarm.

“They glow like you do,” you commented, watching them land on Lucifer’s robe, clawing up his sleeves slowly.

Lucifer chuckled and scooped up one from his arm and held it in his hands. “They’re fireflies,” he closed his hands around the one he caught, only leaving a tiny little gap. “Here, take a look.”

You leaned down to peer into his hands and watched as the little bug lit up its dark surroundings. You smiled and Lucifer opened his hands to let the little one fly away. “Why do they glow?” you asked curiously.

“That’s how they communicate!” he explained! “The creatures of this place can’t speak, so they have their own way of talking to one another.”

You let out a soft hum. “Well, I’m a little envious of them. And you.” Lucifer raised an eyebrow at your peculiar statement. “What I mean is, they can fly. Fly away to wherever they please. They seem to have more freedom than I do…”

Lucifer frowned, but smiled after only a moment. He stood up straight and extended a hand down to you. “Perhaps I can give you that freedom, if only for a moment.” You took his outstretched hand and pulled yourself up. Without warning, Lucifer scooped you up in his arms, eliciting a small yelp from you. For his small stature, he was incredibly strong. You should have realized after you saw the way he handled Adam. You wrapped your arms around his neck in anticipation. “Hang on tight!”

With one powerful thrust of his wings, you two were airborne. A small scream escaped your throat as you hovered in air high above the ground. You buried your face in the crook of his neck reactively. However, this caused Lucifer’s breath to hitch, which did not go unnoticed by you. You peered up at him curiously, and noticed the familiar dash of yellow that covered his cheeks. He let out a deep breath and glanced back at you sheepishly. “I-It’s alright! I’ve got you.” You lifted your head more, looking out towards the seemingly endless sky. The moon above provided some light that shown on the earth far below, and from here you felt as though you could see everything. The once tall trees seemed like insignificant plants now, the newly formed mountains felt like little stones you could easily pick up and toss in any direction. If this is what the angels could see all the time, it’s no wonder they never left the sky.

Well, except for one.

“It’s amazing, Lucifer!” you exclaimed. “I never could have dreamed the world could look so lovely.”

“It pales in comparison to...” he started to say, but stopped when you looked back to gaze into his eyes. “I mean…n-never mind that! I want to show you something else! Ready?” You smiled and nodded. Suddenly, Lucifer dive down at an incredible speed and stopped just before you hit the sparkling lake. He readjusted the way he held you and gripped your waist firmly. He held you like you weighed absolutely nothing. You locked your arms around him once more to secure yourself, but Lucifer shook his head. “I’m going to lower you down now, is that alright?” he asked sweetly. You were hesitant, afraid of being dropped. But you took a few deep breaths before nodding. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do!” you answered vehemently.

Your body dropped towards the water. You closed your eyes, expecting to be enveloped by the water. But you remained perfectly dry, except for the bottom of your feet. Lucifer held your palms as he floated above you, his smile brightening the night. You gripped his hands with all of your might. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yes I’m alright,” you stuttered. “Just a little startled.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I should have given you a better warning. But here…” his calming voice soothed your anxiety almost immediately. “Can you try taking a step forward?” You looked down at your bare feet at the grazed the water below you. You placed one foot in front of the other, creating a small ripple of waves. You took another step. And another. And another. Before you knew it, you were walking on water with Lucifer guiding you every step of the way. His wings flapped along silently as you two made your way to the edge of the lake, towards solid ground. But the cool water below you felt almost as solid as the grass you were used to when Lucifer was by your side.

[frownyalfred]

Random ask, but you talk about your workouts and healthy eating a bit on here

Do you have any advice for someone just starting out trying to change their lifestyle to be a bit more healthy?

Healthy food wasn't really a thing for me growing up since fast food was cheaper to afford, and my job keeps me pretty much sitting down unmoving all day. So I feel like I'd be at square one here

Gradual habits moving toward a lifestyle change is the best advice I ever got. You can’t and should try to do it all at once. I started out just hitting the gym once a week and walking on the treadmill. Then it became twice a week over time. Then every other day….then I started lifting weights, so on, etc.

The trick is, you won’t start to crave and appreciate healthier foods (whole foods like vegetables, etc) until you start working them into your diet. So add in what you can, where you can, but don’t overdo it so you hate your food and think of it as a diet. I went high protein for my lifting, and dialed down the sugar and unhealthy foods slowly as time went on. I still eat them, though — for example, my meal prep this week was hamburger helper with blended veggies and chickpeas in the sauce.

Get in exercise where you can, when you can too. If you sit at a desk all day, going to the gym after work and scheduling exercise “time” can be useful. Some people prefer to walk intermittently throughout the day and get steps in that way — do what you can maintain and enjoy. I’m definitely a gym goer after work, but I like late night workouts.

The trick is to do just a little bit more every month, even if week to week things aren’t consistent. Eat to fuel your movement, and move in ways you enjoy. Don’t shame yourself, don’t compare yourself, and don’t stop even if you didn’t reach your goals that week.

I personally lost about forty pounds (closer to fifty now) very slowly, with lots of stops and starts. I get about an hour of movement every day and still eat things I enjoy very much. I’m slowly building even more muscle, but it takes time. Whenever I tried to rush or do too much, I failed.

[archangeldyke-all]

one thing i really love about sevika is that she’s reserved but she doesn’t mince words and always says what she means. soooooo what about sevika who cannot shut up when she’s fucking you buuuut it’s all practically incoherent bc of how good you make her feel?

yesssssss!!!!! i also got this ask too so i'm gonna combine them:

idk how to describe this fantasy but pls pls pls can you make sevika to carry reader against the wall and fuck hard w her strap!!!

men and minors dni

"'m home, babe!" sevika calls. you blink your eyes open, rising from the bed where you'd been napping, a smile coming across your lips. finally, you think as you race out of bed into the living room where sevika's hanging up her poncho.

at the sight of you, she seemingly melts. her shoulders fall, a long sigh leaves her chest, and in two long strides she's wrapping you up into a warm, bone-crushing hug. you hum and wrap your arms around her, pressing kisses against her neck.

"how was your day?" you ask. sevika's busy taking deep inhales against your neck, soaking up the smell of you. "sev?" you ask. she grunts against your neck.

"horrible." you pull away only far enough so you can cup her face in your hands.

"poor baby." you say, gently kissing her pouting lower lip. she hums. "how can i help you? want dinner? could draw you a bath... back massage?" you offer, gently scratching at sevika's scalp. she smirks, her hands trailing down to fondle your ass. you chuckle.

"could let me fuck you against this wall." she says.

fuck, she's always saying shit like that. always saying exactly what she's thinking with no hesitation, no embarrassment, and grinning at your flustered reactions.

she chuckles, her mouth three inches from yours as she watches your eyes widen and your jaw drop as you gasp. she swoops down to kiss you, sliding her tongue into your open mouth and moaning as your tongue meets hers. she slowly backs you up until you're pressed against the wall, shoving one of her thighs between yours.

"well?" she grunts, her hands at your hips grinding you against her thigh. you chuckle.

"dunno baby. you seem pretty tired from work. are sure you can hold me up for that lo--ah!" you screech as sevika rolls her eyes and hoists you up, wrapping your thighs around her waist and pinning you to the wall. she chuckles at you as you scramble to cling onto her.

"well?" she asks again, grinding against your cunt with small little circles. you shudder. "wanna watch your cunt drip around my cock, honey, 's that okay?" she mumbles, her eyes pinned onto where her clothed hips are grinding against the thin fabric of your underwear. you squeak against her at her words. she grins, her eyes snapping up to look at your face.

"sev." you whine. "come on." you say. she chuckles.

"hold on, honey." she says. you cling onto her as one of her arms releases your ass to pull her pants down, her cock springing free as she pulls your panties to the side. she grinds her cock against your dripping folds, her free hand coming back up to hold you securely. "fuck. you're drippin' already." she grunts. you whimper.

"missed you today." you say in explanation. sevika groans, her dick catching on your rim momentarily.

"fuckin' missed you too." she whispers. "c-can i--?"

"please, sev, fuck." you say, nodding. she grunts, and in one clean thrust, she's sliding her cock into your cunt to the hilt.

you both gasp. sevika whimpers and you shiver against the wall. "your cunt's just-- fuck." she grunts. "fuckin' perfect." she says. it's all you get from her before she's smashing her lips against yours and pounding into you.

her hips are repeatedly smacking against your ass, the loud clapping is the only sound in the apartment beside your whimpers and sevika's aborted curses. between the intermittent kisses she's pressing against your lips, she's got her forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathing against each other's mouths.

as good as she is at dirty talk, once she's inside you she's an incoherent mess.

"i'm gonna-- shit." sevika grunts. "fuck, fuck, fuck." she whispers. you gasp against her.

"what, baby?" you tease. she groans, clawing her nails into your ass.

"gonn-ah!" she whimpers when you clench around her cock. she glares at you and you smirk.

"y're so cute sev." you whisper. "too needy for this pussy to talk, huh?" you tease. she scowls at you.

"i'm not, you just-- fuck!" she huffs, burying her face into your neck. you giggle against her. "shut up!" she growls. she's bouncing you on her cock, using you like a fucktoy, letting out little whimpers and whines against your throat as she nips and kisses it.

"'s okay baby. you don't gotta talk to fuck me right. shit, you're gonna make me cum!" you gasp. sevika groans.

"y-yes." she whimpers against your neck. "on me, please, cum on my cock, i need it, honey, i need--"

"shit, sev, don't stop--"

"not gonna, not gonna, 's okay,"

"fuck!" you scream. sevika chuckles and bites your throat as you cum around her cock. she keeps fucking you through it, giggling and smiling against your throat.

"good girl." she grunts. you tug her hair as you gasp.

"you close?" you whimper out as sevika continues to pound into you. she grunts and nods and you smile, clenching your cunt around her cock as best as you can. "inside me." you demand. sevika whimpers, her grip on your ass tightening even more.

"shut--"

"come on, baby, cum inside me. knock me up, get me pregnant." you moan into her ear. she whimpers.

"shut the fuck--"

"breed me, sev. this pussy's all yours." you whisper.

sevika cums with a shout and a shocked look on her face as she fills you up. you smile in pleasure, running your hands through her hair as she gasps and twitches below you. you chuckle as the last waves of her orgasm wash over her and she glares at you.

"fucker." she grunts. you giggle.

"'s so hot how needy you get for me." you say with a smile. she chuckles.

"wanted to make you cum again before i did." she complains. you giggle and kiss her.

"i know. but i like seeing your o-face." you tease. sevika huffs a laugh as she gently sets you back onto the floor. she pulls out of you and chuckles as she watches her cum slide down your thighs.

"come on. gonna take you to the bedroom and lick you clean. 'm not done with you tonight." sevika grunts as she tugs you away from the wall. you giggle and wrap your arms around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her lips.

"i love you." you say. she smiles sweetly, all the lust in her eyes evaporating as a toothy grin takes over her face.

"i love you too." she says.

"i love how stupid you get when you're inside me." you add on. sevika groans and rolls her eyes, then stoops down to hoist you over her shoulder and carry you to the bedroom. you squeal and giggle the whole way.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

[dindjarindiaries]

Senator's Shadow - Chapter 9

summary: Hunter and the squad do their best to reinforce you as you aim to end the crisis on Eirus once and for all.

pairing: hunter (the bad batch) x fem!reader

rating: mature (18+)

tags: bodyguard romance, forbidden love, fluff & angst, emotional & physical hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, injuries & blood, trauma, eventual/mild smut

word count: 6.912k

chapter 8 ⟸ series masterlist ⟹ chapter 10 (epilogue)

chapter 9 ⟹

Hunter was holding his breath from the moment you had stolen it. His eyes followed you until you disappeared from sight, his chest burning from both the lack of air and his effort to let you go rather than keep you close. He would have gladly surrendered himself with you, but you needed him elsewhere. That was enough.

That would have to be enough.

Wrecker cleared his throat louder than he had to. The sound brought Hunter back to the present, and he snapped his head around to face the squad. They were all staring at him through their helmets, frozen in place in a way Hunter had never seen before.

Despite the severity of the moment, Hunter couldn’t help chuckling to himself. He smirked as he set his helmet back in place and raised his brow at his brothers. “Don’t tell me you’ve all gotten shy, boys.”

They all slowly began to shift around. Tech was bold enough to attempt words first. “We… simply had yet to observe such an affectionate gesture.” He glanced down at his datapad, avoiding eye contact. “Between you two, that is.”

Hunter’s visor looked pointedly around the group. When no one else spoke, he chuckled again. “Clearly, we haven’t spent enough time at Seventy-Nines.”

He let the amusement fade from his tone as he straightened shoulders. You were on your way down to some unknown fate, and here he was, cracking jokes.

“Come on. We have our orders.” Hunter pointed to his left, and the boys’ right. “Wrecker, Tech, you take this side.” He did the same with the other side. “Crosshair, Echo, you go the other way.” He drew his blaster and nodded. “We need to make sure we’re surrounding this courtyard at every possible angle, so keep yourselves spread out.”

“Are we staying up high?” Echo asked, his blaster also drawn.

“Affirmative. We have the high ground, and we need to keep it.”

Wrecker groaned, but Tech was nudging him back towards the stone railing before he could make any other kind of protest. Hunter turned to Crosshair for a quick moment. “Position yourself somewhere with a good shot at anyone who approaches the senator.”

Crosshair nodded and turned to follow Echo, who had already leapt from the outpost’s roof and swung down. Hunter waited until all of his brothers were safely on their way to steady himself with a breath and approach the railing that separated him from the courtyard.

He slowly stood from his crouch, giving himself just enough height to see between the intermittently raised pillars of the railing and view the courtyard. The chaos below had already fizzled out, and the first thing he observed was that the fighters had stopped shooting to concentrate their fire on one specific target.

You. Hands raised, mask and hood both lowered, moving from the safe shadows of the outpost to the exposed light.

Hunter tightened his grasp on his blaster.

“There’s no need for fighting.” Your voice was so calm yet authoritative that it instinctively made Hunter want to obey the gentle order. It was a wonder how just minutes ago, you were trembling in his grasp during your desperate kiss. “I’m here now. Let’s talk this through.”

“At last.” A new voice spoke as soon as you had finished. Hunter was even more alert at once, and he sensed the powerful march of the man’s boots before he had even walked into the light. “We’ve been waiting for you, Senator.”

And there it was, the face he had spent this entire mission memorizing and dreading: Lii Alvani.

Hunter busied his rageful hand with the task of pressing down his comm. “Alvani’s here. Crosshair, your aim needs to be on him at all times.”

“Understood.” Even Crosshair’s cool tone sounded more focused than usual, as if he was suppressing the same amount of rage as Hunter.

You continued on without a single waver in your voice. “I had a feeling you’d be here.”

Alvani opened his arms. “As did I.” He had a sinister grin that Hunter wanted to punch off of his twisted face, but he kept holding on to the self control he had learned so long ago. “It was bold of you, Senator, to leave the capitol. And without any reinforcements!”

You remained unshaken. Warm pride bloomed within Hunter’s chest, despite the circumstances. “I spent many years fighting against you, Alvani, and my people and I emerged victorious. I knew that I could do it again.”

Alvani bowed his head. “This is true.” He lifted a finger. “Aside from a few key details. Your people are mine, now. But even then…” he chuckled, “you are not alone.” Alvani waved a hand at some of the fighters to his left. “Look for the clones.”

The fighters entered the outpost first, no doubt following your own trail. Hunter cursed and turned around to set his back against the stone, allowing himself to face the steps as he prepared to hide from the incoming patrol.

While he waited, Hunter turned his head to scour the nearby rooftops. The squad was blending into the night thanks to the dark ponchos that concealed them. He lifted his hand to his helmet. “Not sure if you’ve all heard, but Alvani’s looking for us. Stay alert, stay low, and stay quiet.”

“Copy that, Sarge,” Wrecker attempted his best whisper.

Hunter continued to listen to you and Alvani even as he attuned his senses to the incoming group of fighters. “The lies have already begun.” Alvani scoffed. “And some of you still trust her? Some of you think that she, and her supposed government, truly care about you?”

Hunter’s blood ran so hot that it started to prickle his skin. Even the rain that had started to fall steadily couldn’t have cooled him down if his skin was vulnerable to it. He was forced to move past the feeling when he heard the echoes of the patrol’s step, signaling him to push himself forward and hide amongst the shadows around the corner.

“These are not my troops opening fire on civilian villages, Alvani. Who do you think thwarted your last attack?”

Alvani laughed. “My attack? Senator, please. These riots have nothing to do with me.”

Hunter bit back a scoff of his own, his blaster raised as he slowly backed away from where the patrol had just emerged. They split up, causing Hunter to reach over his shoulder for the spare line in his pack and dart towards the center of the outpost’s roof.

Your patience was thinning, and Hunter could hear it. “And the fighters who are currently under your command?”

Hunter attached one end of the line to his belt and the other to the small spires of the inner railing. Once it was secure, he leapt over the edge, keeping himself pressed against the stone wall just above the transparisteel barrier. The quickening rainfall pattered against the fragile material, which would have made it hard for anyone without his heightened senses to hear the ongoing conversation.

The sound of Alvani’s voice was still grating, even at this distance. “They’re protecting the people, clearly.”

“From who?”

“You. And your supposed Republic.”

You let out a curt laugh. Hunter tensed as he watched the shadows of the patrol search the perimeter of the rooftop. “Is that the narrative you’re going with, Alvani? That’s ridiculously untrue and low, even for you.”

“Is it?” Hunter’s free hand tightened into a fist as he leaned his helmet against the slickened stone. The urge to launch himself back up and fight was getting harder to ignore. “The people of Eirus have been going without proper resources for many standard months.”

“Because what the Republic and I have been requesting for our people hasn’t been implemented. That’s why I have returned. Instead, I have found that Eirus’ elected officials are debating an alliance with Count Dooku for a deal that would strip this planet of its resources in a detrimental way.” You paused, and Hunter ached at the rising desperate tension in your voice. “I presume it was your idea, Alvani.”

“It’s clear up here,” one of the fighters on the rooftop reported. “We’ll descend and begin searching the outer perimeter. You two, stay up here.” Hunter grinned to himself. Finally, a way for him to take out his anger.

“The count offered me refuge when my homeworld turned its back on me. Now, I’ve come back to return the favor. His Confederacy can help Eirus to flourish once again as the droid factories boost our workforce.”

Hunter waited until the footsteps descended the staircase to pull himself back up the line. He gritted his teeth both at the physical effort and at Alvani’s blatant lies.

You sounded just as unconvinced. “Either you truly believe his lies, Alvani, or you’re deliberately using the same ones.”

“You’ll hear no lies from me, Senator. If only your people could expect the same from you.”

Hunter channeled his red-hot energy into battle as he swung himself over the railing and disconnected the line. His alert senses told him exactly where he could find the first fighter. Hunter lifted his arm and wrapped it around the human’s throat, squeezing it tighter and tighter as he continued to listen to what was happening in the courtyard.

“I do not, and will not, lie—especially not to my people. I can wholeheartedly admit that the Republic isn’t perfect, because as you have so graciously pointed out, even they have not yet provided for Eirus the way they should.”

The deadweight of the fighter began to fall upon Hunter as unconsciousness overtook him. Hunter eased his body down to the ground and moved ahead, seeking the second soldier in the shadows as you spoke.

“But they also have yet to take advantage of Eirus during this war. If the count establishes his droid factories here, then that will be bringing this war to our home permanently. Do we, a peaceful planet, really intend on forever tying ourselves to the production of these droids who have been targeting innocent civilians all across the galaxy?”

Hunter found the second guard and swung out his leg at the back of the Weequay’s knee to trip him. He knocked the fighter’s comlink away while he still had the advantage and kept him on his knees, yet again pulling his arm tight around the soldier’s throat.

“A peaceful planet being represented by a senator who’s arrived here in combat gear?” Alvani laughed. “Who earned her place by fighting her way there?”

Hunter took cruel pleasure in the ceasing of the Weequay’s breath.

“Being a senator was never my choice.” Your voice had gone calm again. “It was our people’s. I’m only fulfilling my duty at the request of the people of Eirus.”

“Perhaps it’s time for new leadership, then.”

Hunter was finally able to return to his previous place, his blaster raised again as he watched you and Alvani through the railing’s small spires. The downpour made it harder to see, but it seemed you were paying no mind to it as you faced Alvani with your hands held out by your sides in constant, peaceful surrender.

You nodded as you responded to him. “Perhaps it is.” You then shook your head. “But not under Count Dooku. He may have deceived you and all our elected officials, Alvani, or perhaps you’re taking part in his deception, but his intentions are cruel. He cares nothing about our planet, nor our people.”

Your focus went to the people who had started to surround the courtyard, from Alvani’s stationed fighters to the villagers who had dared to leave their homes.

“I learned a terrible truth before I came here. I discovered these supposed ‘riots’ have actually been orchestrated by the count and his forces to manipulate Eirus into accepting his offer for protection.”

A hushed gasp went around the crowd. Hunter saw the corners of Alvani’s mouth twitch downwards, though he otherwise held onto his smug expression.

“I don’t believe all of these fighters know this truth, because…” you paused, a new pain evident in your tone, “many of them are the same forces I fought alongside when we freed the planet from this man’s rule.”

Hunter watched as some of the fighters surrounding you started to lower their blasters, but they weren’t yet fully committed to abandoning them.

“I have gone undercover with my clone protectors on this occasion and one other to try to change the outcome of these attacks. We were only able to save one village. My home village being targeted and attacked just after that effort is not a coincidence.”

You paused again, and Alvani still didn’t say anything. Hunter’s brow furrowed as you took the opportunity to go on.

“I understand that Eirus has been through a lot. I was on the front lines for much of it. When I went to Coruscant, my mission continued, but there was a disconnect. Your officials, myself included, have failed you, and I cannot fully express how sorry I am for that.

“But I want to make things better. I don’t want to bring the war here. We have all fought and suffered enough. I propose that we re-elect brand-new officials on every level, including senatorial.” Hunter’s brow shot up. “Give the Republic one more chance to maintain the peace we have long since been seeking. Just as they sent the clone protectors here with me, they can protect us as a planet, but will do no further. Not unless we request it.”

Your words were met with stunned silence. Hunter looked around and watched the faces of your people, especially the villagers, soften at the sight of you. He smiled to himself. You were finally winning them over.

Then Alvani spoke. “What a well-crafted collection of deceit you have made, Senator. Truly, I commend you.” He shook his head. “But such lies cannot stand without evidence to prove them true. Can you at least provide your people with that, if you cannot provide them with the resources they need to live?”

Hunter watched you closely, and what he caught was the calculated way your focus went up and around at the surrounding structures. You were looking for something, or someone.

The signal.

Hunter lifted his hand to his helmet. “That’s the signal, boys. Time to join the party. Tech, have your datapad ready. Crosshair, stay where you are with a shot on Alvani.”

Crosshair’s tone was as cool as usual. “I copy.”

Hunter wasn’t waiting around for the others. He swung out over the edge of the roof and traded his blaster for his blade, digging it into the mortar of the outpost’s bricks to slow his descent. Once he was at a safe enough range, he let go and let himself fall, tucking and rolling once he landed.

The fighters had reinforced their grips on their blasters, but Hunter put away all of his weapons as he stood. He lowered the hood of his poncho and made his way to your side. Alvani’s eyes had widened as he made his approach, but once he was next to you, Hunter’s visor was only concerned with you. There wasn’t much you were giving away, even if Hunter could still see the sweet light of relief in your eyes. He nodded at you before facing Alvani again.

“Heard you’re looking for some evidence.” Hunter crossed his arms as he spoke.

Alvani gave him an incredulous once-over. “And what gives you such authority?”

Hunter lifted his hands to his helmet and removed it, exposing himself to the downpour in favor of staring down Alvani with his own eyes. “I’m the sergeant whose squad has been investigating and combating your attacks.” Hunter tucked his helmet under his arm and shrugged. “May not give me credibility in your eyes, but you can take that up with the Republic.”

Alvani scoffed. “And where is this ‘squad’ you speak of?”

“Right here.” Wrecker’s booming voice made Alvani jump as it appeared from behind him. Wrecker followed Hunter’s lead in having his weapons put away as he held his hands into fists and walked to your other side. “If you have any complaints, you can take ‘em up with me.”

“I wouldn’t risk that if I were you, sir,” Echo warned as he walked up from the shadows. He gestured with his helmet to Wrecker. “He’s not as lenient as the rest of the Republic.”

“Technically, we are supposed to be subject to the rules of command.” Tech held up his finger as he joined the rest of the group, though his focus was on the datapad in his other hand. “We, however, are not obligated to follow those because of our exceptional success rate.”

Once Tech was standing at Hunter’s other side, Alvani looked upon the squad with utter shock. His stare then found yours as he let out a laugh of disbelief. “Are these your aforementioned ‘clone protectors,’ Senator? Really?”

Hunter looked over at you, and your gaze met his as you smiled and nodded. “This is an elite clone squad, Alvani.” You peeled your stare from Hunter to face Alvani once again. “Underestimating them would be unwise.”

“We have the requested evidence.” Tech didn’t give Alvani a single second to speak. For once, Hunter was grateful for it. “Here, I have numerous communication recordings, coordinates of your whereabouts following Eirus’ previous crisis, and confirmed visuals of allies you worked with before being present on-world currently.” Tech looked up from his datapad. “Is that sufficient?”

The murmurs of the surrounding crowd became louder at that. Hunter heard your relieved exhale at his side, and he let it relax him further. The tide had shifted; you had the advantage. Your gamble had paid off.

You spoke into the silence when Alvani failed to. “Your deceptions are over, Alvani. It’s finally time for the people of Eirus to choose their own fate.”

You earned a few enthusiastic shouts at that. Hunter looked around and watched the fighters glance at one another before dropping their weapons to the ground. The corners of his lips started to turn up in a smile, one that only grew the moment he looked at you.

But Alvani sighed, and it wasn’t a defeated sound. “I had a feeling it would come to this.” Hunter’s attention snapped back to Alvani as he lifted his wrist to his lips. “Prime Minister, would you like to do the honors?”

It was then that Hunter sensed a frequency so strong it almost made him wince. Once he got a firmer grasp on it, he realized how familiar it was; too familiar. He lowered himself to the ground to make sure of it, no matter how confident he was in his own abilities. He splayed his palm over the muddy soil.

Your voice was strained with newfound worry. “What is it?”

Hunter put his helmet on and drew his blaster. “You need to get the civilians to safety.” He then spoke to his squad, who was already following the sergeant’s lead in grabbing their weapons. “Lads, we’re about to have some company.”

Echo took a step closer to Hunter. “What kind of company?”

Hunter lifted his blaster to his shoulder. “Clankers.”

Wrecker let out a cheer. “Oh, yeah! Finally!” Hunter took pleasure in the way Alvani’s expression twisted at Wrecker’s excitement.

“Droids?” Your panic was breathless. Hunter turned to face you fully. “How many?”

Hunter set his free hand on your shoulder. “Enough for us to handle.” He gave you a gentle squeeze. “We’ll take care of them. Have the fighters guard any gathered citizens inside the outpost.”

Your gaze gave him a once-over, your brow furrowed. You ultimately exhaled a light breath and nodded, setting your jaw. Hunter wished he could do more to comfort you, but with such an audience, it simply wasn’t safe. Your eyes flashed with sweet understanding before you stepped away and raised your voice.

“Everyone, inside the outpost! Now!”

Thankfully, the fighters had fully pledged their allegiance to you, and they obeyed your order without hesitation. They picked up their blasters and started directing the gathered citizens to the outpost, but you weren’t going with them. Hunter tilted his helmet when your stare found his visor again, and your smile and shrug said it all.

You had told them long ago that you would be on the front lines of this conflict, and that wouldn’t stop now.

But his senses were slammed by the awakening of the battle droids, and it would only be a matter of moments until they would start to open fire. Hunter was ready to warn you until he sensed an alarming movement much closer than the droids were. You weren’t the only one who had mastered the craft of a hidden holster.

Hunter reached for his knife and threw it without a second thought. The golden blade whizzed through the air and struck Alvani’s blaster just before he could pull the trigger on you. Hunter focused on aiming his own blaster, but it wasn’t his weapon that dealt the blow.

One blue circle of light from Crosshair’s perch was all it took to put Alvani out of commission, and his body hit the mud as soon as the droids who had been hiding in the darkness began to open fire.

Hunter positioned himself in front of you and fired his blaster into the fray. “Wrecker, get Alvani inside the outpost!”

Wrecker was quick to obey the order, allowing Hunter to focus on their surroundings. They needed cover, but they couldn’t afford to be pinned inside the outpost with everyone else. They were going to have to split up and use the infrastructure to their advantage.

Hunter spoke into his comm, regardless of the fact Echo and Tech were right beside him. “We’re splitting up again. We’ll stay in our original pairs. Wrecker, you’ll rendezvous with Crosshair’s position whenever you’re done with Alvani. Crosshair, stay where you are and watch our backs.”

“With pleasure,” Crosshair assured him.

“I… copy… Sarge!” Wrecker was breathing heavily from his run.

Hunter looked at Echo and Tech, directing them to the right with his blaster. They nodded and began to split off, which left you and Hunter to head to the left. He continued to shield you and fire at the droids until you had proper cover.

Taking shelter inside a tight alleyway with time to spare, Hunter kept you safe between himself and the wall that was at your back. His free hand removed his helmet while the hand with his blaster carefully wrapped around the back of your neck to bring your mouth to his.

You didn’t resist, at least not at first. You melted against him as easily as the rain trickled over your faces and his armor, and for a moment, you fisted the material of his poncho to pull him even closer. But then you flattened your palms against his armored chest and parted your lips from his, your brow furrowed as you sought an explanation.

Hunter pressed his wet forehead against yours. “You’re okay.” He exhaled his sigh of relief against your brow as he kissed it. “And you did it.”

You smiled at him, and though his breathless admiration and affection was reflected in your gaze, you were still able to quirk up an eyebrow. “Of course I did.”

Hunter huffed before he kissed you again. He needed this reassurance, and given how eager you were to match each desperate stroke, you did, too. Hunter could still spare a few words. “Giving up your senatorial seat, huh?”

You pulled away, your arms now wrapped around his neck, and gestured with your head to the alleyway’s opening. “Surely we can find a better time to talk about that.”

Hunter chuckled, his lips spreading wide in a fond, confident smirk. “I wouldn’t worry if I were you. I could fight clankers in my sleep.”

You gave him a dizzying once-over. “I’m sure you could.” You kissed his cheek that time. “So why don’t you show me?”

Hunter hummed and lifted his helmet once again, setting it over his head before nodding. “Finally.”

He had to agree with Wrecker’s earlier sentiment: he had missed this, the rush of battle, the thrill of doing what he and his brothers had quite literally been made for. There was still a lot to sort out, but now that you were okay and you had accomplished what you set out to do, Hunter was finally free to let himself loose again.

His squad was always showing off, but now, he had an even more important audience to show off for.

“So,” your voice had returned to a more tactical tone, “what’s the plan?”

Hunter holstered his blaster and took up the knife he had retrieved from the mud. He tilted his helmet at you. “Try to keep up.”

With that, he darted towards the alleyway’s opening, going right back to all the action. Cover had been important, yes, but only as a means of regrouping. Now, Hunter could weave himself in-and-out of all the gaps between buildings to avoid fire if he had to, all while pursuing these droids as if it was just another day’s work.

In a way, it was, though you had made this mission feel anything but ordinary.

Hunter didn’t have to consume himself with your wellbeing because of his confidence in both his own actions and yours, even if he did glance back to make sure you were still close. You already fit in nicely with his technique, acting as a defensive line of cover while Hunter pursued his assault with his blade.

He dodged, dove, flipped, and sliced, using his senses to find each target and confirm each kill. You were always there at the edges, illuminating them with a warmth that rivaled the chill of the rain seeping beneath his armor. He could hear the familiar jolts of Crosshair’s rifle firing shots from his perch, and at one point, he heard Wrecker’s yells as he finally plowed through to get to Crosshair’s position.

Everything was just as it should be. And to think that at the end of it all, there was even a chance for your place with them to be permanent, should you want to take it.

Hunter had his blade deep in a droid’s skull when his comm went off. “They really didn’t bother sending their best here,” Echo commented.

“Which was a wise course of action,” Tech chimed in. “This is the final chance they are giving Eirus. It would be a waste of resources to send their most refined droids to a planet they do not even know if they will have.”

“That would explain why there’s only one wave.” Crosshair huffed, though the noise was mostly static through the comms. “We’ve nearly fought through all their forces.”

“Already?” Wrecker was disappointed. “Aw, man! I just got here!”

“We’ll be back in the field before you know it, Wrecker.” Hunter paused as he sliced through a droid on his left and then swung around to stab the neck of one on his right. You blasted down a droid just behind him, and he nodded in your direction to thank you. “Just have fun while you can.”

Your voice rose above the sounds of battle to speak to him. “I quite like your squad’s idea of ‘fun,’ Sergeant.”

Hunter let out a soft laugh and glanced at you over his shoulder. “You’re a natural, Senator.”

Hunter had chased another kind of pleasant adrenaline with you before, but he had to agree: this was just pure fun.

It wasn’t long before the rest of the boys were back in Hunter’s sights. The droids’ numbers were dwindling fast, and the squad’s restlessness during the course of this mission had much to do with it, no doubt. They were all itching to be back on the battlefield again, and that meant these droids never stood a chance. Hunter honestly felt a bit of pity for them.

Then he remembered why they were sent here, and that softer feeling faded fast.

When there was only one left, Hunter held up his men and let you do the honors. He tossed up his blade and you caught it just as you holstered your blaster, continuing your movement to bury it down to the hilt inside the droid’s wired neck. You retracted the knife only when the droid collapsed, bringing an end to the conflict.

“Ha-ha! Yeah!” Wrecker lunged forward to give you a high-five. Hunter crossed his arms and shook his head, despite the fact he was beaming underneath his helmet. He glanced over at Tech, who was already tapping away on his datapad.

Hunter’s brow rose. “Reinforcements?”

Tech’s gaze flickered up at him. “Negative. Just as I said before, the Separatists have no interest in a planet that cannot promise its resources any longer. This was, indeed, their final chance.”

Hunter’s focus returned to you when you handed him his blade. He took it, his fingers brushing yours, and sheathed it. Your gaze was relieved as it bore through his visor, but it was also exhausted, vulnerable to him in a way that made his chest tight. When you were at his side, he held a hand upon your back, and you leaned your head against his armored shoulder.

“Awww,” Wrecker cooed.

Crosshair nudged him with his shoulder. “Grow up, Wrecker.” Hunter huffed.

“So,” Echo gestured to the open stretch of ground littered in droid parts, “that’s it, Senator?”

You lifted your head from Hunter to nod. “It is.” Your stare scanned the group, a fond smile stretching across your lips. “I can’t thank you all enough for your tireless effort to help me see this through.” You let out a soft laugh. “Especially seeing how much you’ve had to hold back this entire time.”

Wrecker rolled his neck. “That’s not even the half of it!”

You beamed at him. “I’m sure.” You let out a slow and steady exhale. “Now… well, the Prime Minister’s involvement is troubling, but not entirely unpredictable.” You glanced up at Hunter. “It makes me glad I promised to re-elect every position.”

“Are you really gonna give up yours, Senator?” Echo’s hand was on his hip, now.

You bowed your head. “If that’s what my people want. Whatever it takes to maintain this peace and give the Republic another chance.”

Crosshair shifted his weight to one hip as he kept his arms crossed. “And if you do give up your seat?”

You shrugged, unable to resist a smile as your stare met Hunter’s through his visor. “Then I guess I’ll have to find another way to serve the Republic.”

Hunter tilted his helmet, as if he actually had to consider your words. “I’m sure something can be arranged.” His hand gave your back a few gentle pats. “But first, we have to wrap this up.”

Your gaze flickered low as you nodded. “And you have to get back to the battlefield, now that this mission is over.”

Hunter returned your nod. “We should at least stick around until all the Separatists’ allies are gone. Only then can we really guarantee your safety.”

Your stare simply lingered in his. It would buy you both a little more time until you had to separate, if only for a little while—that is, if your people even wanted to choose someone new as their senatorial representative. It surely seemed like you had won them over again. That left you with maybe one or two more nights together.

Hunter wasn’t even sure how much time you could spend together tonight. There was so much left to do, but seeing you drenched by the downpour and splashed by mud made him want to do nothing except help you wash with warm water and hold you until the exhaustion left your eyes.

But duty would come first, just as it always had.

The rest of the evening was a blur. You and the squad were met with cheers when you returned to the outpost, which meant it wasn’t difficult to get the fighters to join you on the trip back to the planetary capitol. They acted as the necessary force to get the Prime Minister and the other officials involved with the droid attack to surrender, though Hunter and the boys were with you, too.

You had promised a session the next day to begin sorting things out. You would be bringing more Republic officials on-world to facilitate, and to take care of Alvani, the Prime Minister, and the others. The arrival of those officials would also mark the departure of the squad. They were set to arrive in Hunter’s predicted window: two nights from now, including the rest of tonight.

The watch shifts were no longer, but Hunter’s presence in your bedroom was enough protection, anyway. He did eventually get to care for you in the way he had wanted to before, and he even allowed himself to smile at the thought of it before exhaustion took him right along with you. There wasn’t enough time or energy between the two of you to pursue anything else.

The second night, however, was one you both made use of. There was no promise yet of when, or frighteningly if, you could join his squad in some capacity, and that nervous energy was channeled into breathless and passionate desperation. It somehow managed to rival that first night you spent together, leaving Hunter’s senses frayed and pleased as exhaustion overwhelmed him in a much different way than the night before.

When the morning came, Hunter wasn’t brave enough to face it. He woke and remained where he was, his face pressed against the nape of your neck as your naked shoulders rose and fell in time with his own. Hunter listened to your heartbeat, gently stretching his senses just enough to memorize its distinct rhythm. It kept him calm, as if it was always meant to tune him.

Your entwined fingers eventually gave his a soft squeeze, and he exhaled a breath of defeat. There would be no hiding from this day, nor this goodbye.

You kept your hands together as you rolled over to face him. Hunter gave you a once-over, though the contrasting sparkle of sweetness and sadness in your gaze gave him pause. He held your stare as you lifted your free hand to brush through his hair, right where his bandana would usually be.

“How long have you been awake?” Your voice was no louder than a whisper.

Hunter let out a gentle huff. “Longer than you think.”

You laughed, though your amusement was short-lived as you heaved out a troubled breath. “This won’t be the end.” You gave him a nod, one of those determined ones that made his chest swell. “I don’t know what choice my people will make, but… I won’t let this be the end.”

Hunter raised his brow. “You’ll do whatever it takes to help your people, because that’s just who you are.” Hunter’s hand cupped your face as he returned your nod. “And that’s okay.”

You smiled at him. “You’re right.” You moved close enough for your nose to brush his. Hunter closed his eyes and tried to memorize that feeling, too. “But someone once told me that I don’t have to sacrifice all my wants for my people’s needs.” Hunter reopened his eyes and met the breathtaking sincerity within your own. “And I want to be with you, Hunt.”

Hunter smiled. Stars, he would never get tired of hearing you say his name like that. “I want that, too.” He couldn’t resist a kiss, even if it was brief. “You’ll know where to find us. We’ll just be out there chasing clankers.”

You hummed with amusement as you pushed your lips harder against his. It was easy to accept you, to meet each eager, desperate stroke and let at least one of his hands explore you while he still could. But there wasn’t any more time left to use up. Duty called.

Somehow, Hunter managed to pry himself from you and begin dressing for the day. You followed his lead, and Hunter couldn’t help noticing you had slipped on the same dress from the day you first met. Warmth consumed him from head to toe as he finished securing all his armor in place. He then sat in sweet silence with you until you were ready.

There was no other reason to stall. Hunter guided you out of the bedroom and the suite with a hand on your back, just like he had in that grandiose ballroom what felt like ages ago. Once the two of you had stepped outside, Hunter alerted the squad, and the next few minutes were the last you would have alone together.

For now, Hunter reminded himself. He agreed with what you had said before. Somehow, he knew, and truly knew, this was far from the end.

The boys were surprisingly quiet as they emerged from their rooms, as if they also felt the weight of the upcoming goodbye. They would be departing after breakfast, which made this silence stretch even longer, aside from a few of their usual quips and sibling disagreements. That might have been the one dining area where Wrecker didn’t start some kind of large-scale food fight.

You walked close enough to Hunter’s side for your hand to brush his a few times as you made your way to the platform where the Marauder was waiting. Hunter experienced a twinge of relief at the sight of it, with the ship feeling more like a home than even Kamino at that point, but the weight of this goodbye hadn’t fallen from him yet.

Your captain and your guard were waiting on the platform with the other Republic officials, representing the trade-off of protective duties that would go from Hunter and his squad back to your own guard. Hunter wasn’t too happy with it, but at least he knew you could protect yourself if you had to. It wouldn't be much longer until he could protect you again.

That’s what he had to keep telling himself.

You stopped by your captain, facing the squad that stood in a loose formation with their backs at the Marauder. Your gaze looked upon them all as you smiled and spoke in your formal tone. “I cannot thank you enough, Clone Force 99, for all you have done.” You closed your eyes and nodded, bowing your head a bit before looking upon them again. “Eirus would not have its freedom without you.” You chuckled. “Or its senator.”

Hunter set his jaw at the thought of it.

“I wish you all safe passage to your next journey.” Your stare caught his as you spoke one last time. “I’m sure our paths will cross again.”

“They better!” Wrecker insisted.

Hunter gave his head a fond shake. He watched as his squad all nodded and even smiled at you before heading for the ship, soon leaving just him and you. Your smile was sweeter than ever as you reached your hand forward, just like you had done on Coruscant.

Hunter took it and pressed his lips upon the back of it, his stare never once straying from yours until he forced himself to let go and turn away.

The squad all spun around to pretend they hadn’t been watching, as if Hunter and his senses hadn’t felt their gazes boring into his back. It made him chuckle to himself as he closed the distance to the ship.

The Marauder was quiet when he stepped inside, aside from the rumble of its engines as Tech prepared for takeoff. Echo’s hand caught Hunter’s shoulder before he could make his way to the cockpit, but no words came. They simply exchanged a nod, and Echo let Hunter go to join Tech up front.

Tech had obviously noted Hunter’s approach. “Where are we headed?”

Hunter sat down in the chair beside him and crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ll go back to Kamino, reset before we take our next mission.”

Tech nodded, and his hands flew over the controls as he input the coordinates and lifted the Marauder from Eirus’ surface. Hunter was glad he couldn’t see the sight of it fading behind them.

He was surprised when Tech started to speak again. “You failed to meet the proper protocol with the senator yet again, Hunter.”

Hunter turned his head to look at him, his brow furrowed. Tech gave him an amused glance, though he kept his focus on the stars that were starting to stretch ahead of them.

“I believe you were supposed to aim for her lips, not her hand.”

Hunter’s ears began to burn as he shook his head, though a fond smile stretched over his lips. He would have only risked that if he knew it was your final goodbye, and he didn’t truly believe that it was—not for a single moment.

chapter 8 ⟸ series masterlist ⟹ chapter 10 (epilogue)

hunter tag list: @zenrobbins0021 @cw80831 @yunggoblin @maddiedrmr @Molmcb @jellybeanstacey0519 @violetlilly2020

senator’s shadow tag list: @callsign-denmark @dindadjarin @clintbarton-anon

[sequinsmile-x]

Better

Ordinary.

The way her mother says it makes it sound like poison, like something that was infiltrating her life and tearing it apart from the inside out. An awful, ugly thing instead of the beautiful thing that tied her life together like the finest gold thread.

-x-

Hi friends,

If you haven't seen it, I've been getting more anon hate than usual recently, almost entirely around the fact pregnancy/Emily having a family with Aaron is a common them in my fics and how they hate that I write about it. Instead of just...seeing the tags and moving on they've been sending me anons criticising me for it. This culminated in me getting a message yesterday that sent me into orbit saying I was making Emily 'mediocre' by making her a mother like other 'mediocre' women.

(you can read the anon here if you haven't and want to it is WILD)

Now, whatever your feelings are about fanfic or characterisation of Emily, calling someone mediocre for their choices, implying that wanting whatever they want is bad, is ridiculous behaviour.

I've had a lot of feelings about it all day, and ending up writing this to get it out because that is how I process things.

As always, let me know what you think.

-x-

Warnings: Lots and lots of mommy issues

Words: 3k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

From the moment her mother had suggested it, Emily had wanted to get out of going to lunch. Elizabeth insisted that she came over to the event she was hosting with some of her old friends, claiming the other women hadn’t seen Emily in years and that they wanted to catch up. She’d struggled to come up with a good reason to get out of it, even praying for a case that meant she’d be out of stage, something Aaron had raised an eyebrow at.

“You’re praying someone has killed enough people that the team needs to get involved?” 

She’d rolled her eyes at him and huffed, all too aware that he was right, and she’d kissed his cheek as she left the house just before midday, her gaze lingering on him and the kids as they settled down to play their favourite game. 

Lunch was, overall, boring. It was a reminder of a life she’d left behind, the one she’d been born into where every word was carefully chosen yet most the time people said absolutely nothing at all. Their words meaningless, full of fluff and inflexions that she hated. False interest in each other's lives as they desperately waited for someone to ask about them. 

She barely says anything, slowly eating her salad and humming intermittently so it seems like she’s listening, until one of her mother’s friends, Carol, gets her attention. 

“So, what are you up to these days, Emily? Your Mother says you’re still working for the FBI?” 

Emily nods, “Yeah, I work for the Behavioural Analysis Unit, the BAU. My husband used to as well but he retired when our daughter was born three years ago.” 

It had been Aaron’s decision, a solution he’d come up with when they found out she was pregnant with Hazel. He’d been keen to do it, unmoveable in his insistence, his eyes bright and almost overflowing with desperation, as if this was his second chance to make the right decision for his family. She’d agreed, after some back and forth, a voice in the back of her head telling her she’d be a bad mom if she went back to work when she didn’t strictly need to, something Aaron and her friends had slowly talked her out of over the long nine months of her pregnancy. 

Leaving the FBI herself was something she considered again when she had Oliver only 8 months ago, but once again she’d stayed. Happy with the balance she’d created, the life she’d built around herself that let her be Agent Prentiss, a member of one of the most well respected teams in the FBI, and Emily, a wife and mother. 

“Oh yes,” Carol says, picking up her cup of tea, “You have children.”

“Three,” Emily says, her back straightening at something she picks up in the other woman’s tone, a little too close to judgment for her liking, “Jack, Hazel and Oliver.” 

“Lovely names,” Carol says, “Although I must say I was surprised when Elizabeth told us you’d settled down and had children, it wasn’t that long ago it looked like you’d be following in her footsteps and trailblazing yourself a career.” 

Emily frowns, her teeth clenched as she takes a second to calm herself down, “I do still have a career, I just happen to have children too.” 

“Yes well,” Carol says, waving her hand, “You know what they say - a jack of all trades, a master of none.” 

She scoffs, looking to her mother for support, immediately wondering why she thought she’d find it when Elizabeth avoids eye contact with her, a fake smile painted across her face as she stands up from the dining table, “I’ll go check on dessert.” 

Emily stays behind after the others leave, barely even attempting to be polite as she exchanges goodbyes with them. As soon as it’s just her and her mother she can’t help herself, the question escaping before she can ask herself if she would even get an answer she’d want. 

“Why didn’t you stand up for me when she was saying all those things?” She asks, her arms crossed over her chest as Elizabeth freezes and sighs. 

“I wasn’t going to cause a scene,” she says, standing up to walk over to the small bar cart in the living room, pouring herself a scotch, “And besides, she didn’t say anything rude.” 

Emily laughs, “She didn’t say anything rude? She basically said because I’m working and I’m a mom I’m not doing well at either of those things,” she scoffs and shakes her head, “She may as well have called me mediocre and be done with it.” There’s a pause, a flash of something across her mother’s face that she’s sure she wouldn’t have seen if she wasn’t so good at her job. For a moment, she wishes she wasn’t, that she didn’t feel the drop of her heart into her stomach as her arms fall to her sides, “Wait….do you agree with her?” 

Elizabeth stares at her for a second, as if weighing up her options, and she takes a sip of her drink, “Well, you did love to travel when you were younger, Emily. I always assumed you’d do a job that took you all over the world. It wasn’t until you started dating Aaron I ever thought you’d settle down and have an ordinary life.” 

Ordinary.

The way her mother says it makes it sound like poison, like something that was infiltrating her life and tearing it apart from the inside out. An awful, ugly thing instead of the beautiful thing that tied her life together like the finest gold thread. It was something she never thought she’d have. The house and the husband and the children. The cat that never used the cat flap they had installed, happy to curl up at the end of one of the kid's beds instead of ever venturing outside. The school drop-offs and the PTA meetings and the last-minute rush to the grocery store for ingredients for cooking class when Jack told them about it at the last possible second. It was normal, and ordinary and hers. And it was everything she had fought for. 

It was everything she had died for. 

Emily had let a lot slide over the last few years, let countless comments go about herself and sometimes even Aaron because Elizabeth loved her grandchildren. What she’d lacked in being a mother she made up for as a grandmother. She bought them gifts that they actually liked, she listened to them. On Hazel’s first birthday, she’d crawled into the playhouse they’d bought the little girl, acting so unlike herself that Emily had thought she was seeing things. She was grateful her children had someone else in their lives who loved them, so she put up with the fact her mother had never loved her like that. 

All of that disappears as Elizabeth’s words wash over her. A quiet, almost dull, confession that hangs in the air around them a bitter pill that erases any good nature Emily had for her mother. 

She chuckles humourlessly and shakes her head, turning away to wipe angry tears from her cheeks, “I’ve got to ask, Mother,” she says, turning back to look at her, her hands thrown up in defeat, “Why did you even have me? If you think me having children is so…ordinary, why did you have a kid?” 

Elizabeth sighs, her hands on her hips, “Emily-”

“Was it because it was what was expected? You and Dad weren’t as careful as you should have been? What was it?” She demands, not sure she even wants the answer, the sadness and fury rolling in her gut in a way that makes nausea burn up her throat. The silence they fall into is suffocating. Thick and cloying as it settles in Emily’s lungs, making it hard to breathe. She looks down at the floor, her arms tight over her chest as she presses her lips together, desperately trying to hold herself together, “I have a good life.” 

“I never said you didn’t,” Elizabeth says, “I only said I’d thought you’d make different choices.”

“Do you mean better?” Emily asks, her glare unrelenting, and Elizabeth simply looks away, her silence the only answer Emily needs. 

It seems ridiculous. Absurd in a way that makes her laugh, because she can’t imagine how life could be better. She knows that if she’d made different choices, if she’d taken Clyde up on his offer of a job and a new life she would have enjoyed it. She would have been fulfilled and happy but it would have been different to what she had now. Another life she’d now never know, something she couldn’t compare to the life she did have because it didn’t exist and never had. She had no regrets, could never regret even for a second choosing this over anything else. It was her life. Her beautiful, ordinary, life. 

Anger and sadness and everything in between swell in her gut again, making her stomach roll as she clenches her fists at her sides. The burn of her short nails into her palm is familiar, and for a moment she’s 12 years old standing opposite her mother in her office, her nails digging into her palms as she’s told off for not acting as she should have, for getting grass stains on a skirt that cost more than most people made in a month. She shakes it off, an unsteady breath caught in her chest as she’s brought back to the present, to standing in a room just down the hall from her mother’s office over 30 years older and somehow just as silently crushed as she had been when she was a kid. 

It was a feeling she’d promised herself she’d never inflict on her own children. A mantra that had started years before she had them, when she was just a kid herself with her hand pressed into her lower belly as the medication she’d been given by the doctor started to work. She’d be better. She told herself again and again that one day, when it was right, she’d be a mother and she’d be better. It’s a promise she made Declan when he slept up against her on the nights when Ian wasn’t there, his fear of his father pressed against her neck as he asked her if he was in trouble again. She makes the same promise to Jack when she realises she’s stepped into a maternal role in his life, her relationship with him so tied up in her relationship with Aaron that it feels like it happens overnight. She’d be better. She says it again to Hazel just a few hours after she’s born, and again with Oliver when she holds him for the first time. She’d be better.

She was better. She knew that. Her children ran towards her, not away, when they were sad or hurt or sick. They sought her out, snuck into her embrace at any given moment, slipping under her arm as she sat on the couch and they should already have been in bed. Aaron often joked he could disappear and no one would notice, something she’d always quickly refute, the idea of him not being right by her side enough to make her shudder. 

“Better than what? A man who loves me the way Aaron does? Than my children?” Her voice cracks and she clenches her teeth to try to steady her lower lip, “For the first time my life is normal, Mom. I go to work, I come home. I spend my evenings helping my kids with homework and driving them to recitals. And then I share a glass of wine with my husband because I’m still breastfeeding Ollie and don’t want to risk a whole glass. Then we get into bed and do it all over again the next day. It’s so ordinary it makes me ache sometimes because it’s all I ever wanted when I was growing up,” she growls in frustration when tears slip onto her cheeks and she wipes them away immediately, “My life might be small to you, but to me it’s perfect and I am the happiest I have ever been,” she swallows thickly, pushing down the emotions she refuses to set free until she’s home. Until she’s with her husband - the only person she’d ever truly feel comfortable falling apart in front of. “I’m going home.”

“Emily, there’s no need to be so upset,” Elizabeth says as Emily turns away, an edge of panic in her voice she had only heard a handful of times, “We can talk about this.” 

“No,” she refuses, already turning and walking away, “We can’t. I’m going home.” 

She’s proud of herself for making it to the car before the tears come in earnest, burning hot with fury as they leave what feels like permanent tracks on her skin.

___ 

She can’t bring herself to get out of the car. 

She sits on the driveway, still buckled long after she’s switched off the engine, her hands still tightly gripping the steering wheel. Even though she’s staring straight ahead, her eyes fixed on the porch that she loves, she doesn’t see the front door open and her husband wander outside. It’s only when he lightly raps on the window, making her jump and pulling her out of her trance, that she realises he’s there. She unlocks the door but makes no other effort to move. He pulls it open and crouches down, his face level with hers. 

“Where are the kids?” She asks, her voice tight even to her own ears, any chance she has of insisting she is fine dead and gone before she can even try. 

“Ollie is napping,” he says, waving the baby monitor he has held in his hand, “Good thing we get reception out here. And Jack is showing Hazel how to play MarioKart.” 

She nods, her tongue pressed against the back of her teeth as she tries to hold herself together, her eyes already burning with tears because of his proximity, “Good.” 

They lapse into silence and he watches her carefully, the tightness to her expression extreme even for an afternoon spent with her mother. He places his hand on her knee and squeezes, “I’m guessing because of your general demeanour, and the fact you’ve been sat out here for almost 20 minutes, that lunch went off without a hitch.”

She laughs. It’s wet and painful as it catches on her ribs, the force of it making tears splash down onto her cheeks and she nods, wiping them away, “Something like that.” 

“Want to talk about it?” He asks, always sure to give her the option, and she nods, “Okay, well let's go sit on the porch,” he says, reaching over her to unbuckle her belt, “I don’t think my knees could take crouching like this much longer.” 

She nods and lets him lead her out of the car, passing him the keys so he can lock it. They sit on the top step leading up to the porch, both of them looking out at the neighbourhood they loved, and he waits her out. Let her figure out what he was going to say, his shoulder pressed against hers as she tries to navigate the emotions swirling through her body, making her dizzy even though she was sitting down.

“She called me ordinary.” 

It’s so left of field, so out of nowhere, it takes him a second to react. His eyebrows furrowing as he turns to look at her, his gaze fixed on her side profile as she continues to look straight ahead, “What?” 

“Mother she…” she clears her throat, “Well one of her friends did first. Said she was surprised I’d settled down and had kids. After she left I made the stupid decision to ask Mom why she didn’t defend me,” she laughs mirthlessly at herself, “I don’t know what I was expecting,” she finally turns to look at him, her eyes briefly meeting his before she hugs her knees to her chest and rests her chin on them, “Anyway, turns out she agreed. She thought I’d do more with my life than get married and have kids I guess.”

Angry doesn’t even come close to explaining how he feels. Fury that had once burned the walls of his childhood home, leaving the wallpaper singed and smoke damaged, burning in his lungs. He closes his eyes for a moment, takes in a deep breath, and pushes the anger away for now, knowing it’s not what she needs. 

“She’s wrong.” 

She looks up at him and smiles, shifting so her head is on his shoulder, “I know she’s wrong,” she says, curling her arms around one of his, “I love our life. I love that it’s as normal as it can be with everything we’ve been through. It’s almost extraordinary in how ordinary it is” she sniffs, turning her head to kiss him through his shirt, “If anything, I think I feel bad for her.” 

He frowns, resting his cheek on top of her head, letting her melt into his side, “Oh yeah?”

She hums, “I’m sad she can’t see the beauty in it,” she says, tilting her head to look up at him, “And that she probably never will.” 

He cups her cheek and leans in to kiss her, his forehead against hers as he pulls back, “That’s her loss,” he says, kissing her again, “I’m sorry, baby. It can’t be nice having your own mother say that.” 

She chuckles and shakes her head, swallowing thickly, “No. It isn’t,” she says, blowing out a shaky breath, “But I’ll do better than her. I’ll always think our kids are amazing no matter what they do with their lives,” her lips shake and her eyes close, fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks that he wipes away immediately, “I’ll do better.” 

He’s heard her say it before. A whisper against Jack’s forehead after she’d read him a story until he fell asleep. A promise to a newborn Hazel and then Oliver a few years later. He wraps his arms around her, gathers her against his chest as she sinks into him, his lips against her hairline as he replies. 

“You already are, sweetheart,” he says, “You already are.” 

-x-

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[nesaluvstherecoms]

𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱.

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴄᴏʟᴏɴᴇʟ ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ Qᴜᴀʀɪᴛᴄʜ x ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ꜰᴇᴍ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Post-combat physical injuries, heavy wounds, abandonment, anxiety, stress, battle casualties.

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ʟɪɴᴋ

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐭

Y/N releases a heavy sigh that comes from the very depths of her chest. What the fuck is this shit?

Quaritch walks leisurely around the room, bare and muddy feet thumping on the expensive and high tech Holofloor, while his tail swishes side to side behind his large frame.

“The signal was intermittent and they lost it over open water, but…” He states, raising a finger towards Ardmore, before moving his arm up the holographic map. “If you project the track, it hits this island group.” He finishes, circling the image of the archipelago with an open palm. Y/N, John and Henry watch from a one way glass panel on the second story that lets them see what’s unfolding without being noticed, per Y/N’s request. She takes a good look at the holographic projection of the archipelago before turning her eyes to watch for Ardmore’s reaction.

“That’s hundreds of islands.” The General states, shaking her head as she stands in front of the map with her arms crossed over her chest. “That’s a big search box with lots of villages.”

Y/N agrees. This is a huge search area that would require lots of time and effort to search throughly for only one target that’s not even a priority.

“This is our guy.” Quaritch states before Ardmore can get another word in. He turns towards her with his ears folding back and his eyes glinting dangerously as he continues speaking. “You give me ships and aircrafts and I’ll bring you back his scalp.”

While Y/N applauds the enthusiasm, this request remains very high risk and should be immediately off the table. But unfortunately for the Recom, Ardmore still calls the shots.

“Let it go Colonel. He’s gone. Dead for all we know.” The General replies, turning to walk away and end this conversation. Y/N nods once in approval, watching her with focused pupils. Finally, Ardmore is seeing through Quaritch’s bullsh-

“No.” The man retorts, moving with heavy steps towards the entrance to prevent her from leaving without making it seem obvious.

“He’s out there.” He states, pointing towards the outside, while his tail curls around. “Maybe raising an army among the sea clans.” He adds as he moves in front of the entrance where Wainfleet is standing, turning around towards Ardmore.

“This is a coastal installation.” Quaritch states with a firm voice, opening his arms to accentuate his point. “You really want twenty thousand screamin’ Na’vi hit you from your seaward flank?”

That last sentence instills doubt into Ardmore’s mind, and Y/N can see it. The General’s expression looks troubled for a moment and Y/N clenches her jaw. Come on, you can’t really be falling for this, she thinks as she watches Ardmore slowly loose her resolve.

“General, trust me, you need to know Sully is dead.” Quaritch continues, pushing his palms downwards with every word and putting on a concerned face as he tries to persuade his superior. Ardmore clenches her jaw, looking him in the eyes before her head moves downwards. She stares at his and Wainfleet’s feet, completely bare, muddy, and with half of their uniform pants cut off, their shins and calves exposed. She then raises her head, moving her eyes towards the one way screen where she knows Y/N and two of her men are watching. Even though she can’t see them, Ardmore can feel Y/N’s disapproval from a mile away, lingering in the air like a cloud that wants to suffocate in disappointment both Quaritch and Ardmore together.

The General closes her eyes briefly and lets out the heaviest sigh she can muster from the very depths of her soul.

“One Sea Dragon. One week.” She finally states, looking up at Quaritch with an expression that dares him to disagree, before she moves and walks away, heading out with her assistant following close behind.

“Ma’am…” Quaritch states in respect as she walks past him, unable to hide the disappointment in his tone. Just one Sea Dragon? Only one week? What the hell is he supposed to do with that?

Y/N closes her eyes and lets out a deep and disappointed sigh through her nose. John and Henry bring up their Recom Breather masks to sip some carbon dioxide, before the Captain turns towards his superior.

“What’re we thinking, General?”

Y/N slightly grinds her teeth, her eyes carefully eyeing the holographic map of the archipelago that is still displayed above the Holofloor. Hundreds of islands, only one Sea Dragon and only one week.

“I have a feeling that this will turn into a shit-show.”

Putting her keycard on the scanner, Y/N opens the door to her office. She walks inside, combat boots thudding on the expensive hardwood floor while the door slides closed behind her with a gentle hiss. Most of the work is done for the day, the only thing remaining being reviewing and approving a few gun and artillery shipments from Earth, but those can wait. For now she just wants to sit on her comfortable luxurious office chair and watch the view outside from the large glass panel windows. Walking past the two big, Recom-sized couches facing the coffee table in the middle of the office, Y/N makes her way to her desk with long, lazy strides. She plops down on the cushioned office chair with a soft sigh and leans her head back on the top of the headrest. Being the Major General comes with its own benefits, like spacious luxurious office, custom made gear, personal ship and aircraft, customized guns, and Y/N has enjoyed every second of it up until now. The Recom then brings her head forward, turning her eyes on the neat and organized hardwood desk in front of her. The date on her personal datapad shows that almost a week has passed since Ardmore approved Quaritch’s request. By now he better be wrapping it up and coming home victorious. If not then Y/N wouldn’t mind throwing a couple of “I told you so.” in Ardmore’s direction.

As she’s thinking this, something catches her attention, something out of place on her desk. There’s a sticky note placed next to her datapad’s stand. Y/N tilts her head as she looks at the piece of paper in curiosity. Not only was this thing not here when she left her office that morning, but who the hell still uses paper? She reaches out and takes the note in between her slim fingers, bringing it up to her face to read over the words written in elegant handwriting with blue ink.

“Meet me today at 17:00 at the stables in front of the botanical labs’ greenhouses. - Toddy”

Y/N’s brows furrow for a moment before she clears her throat and puts the note back down. She hasn’t seen Toddy since their encounter at the science department wing some months ago. To be entirely fair, Y/N had almost forgotten about her. She’s been so busy with work these past months that Toddy’s suggestion the last time they met had slipped completely out of her mind. Y/N swallows the saliva that seems to have pooled on top of her tongue. Did Toddy get so fed up with Y/N not even acknowledging her existence again that she took matters into her own hands? Y/N shakes her head. No, why should she even care what a science department chick thinks? She’s just another worker below Y/N in this organization. But… it wouldn’t hurt to check out the stables once right…? After all, there’s still places in Bridgehead that Y/N hasn’t had the opportunity to see yet. With that thought in mind, Y/N turns her chair around towards the large glass panel windows behind her and relaxes her muscles. As she watches the construction going on outside as always, her eyes move over to the tree-line in the horizon, outside the perimeter of Bridgehead. Her arm then moves to brings up the analogue watch on her left wrist.

15:00

For some reason, she feels something she hasn’t felt in a long, long time. Butterflies in the pit of her stomach…

Y/N swallows a thick glob of spit down her throat. At least it feels nice to ditch the Recom Breather for once and inhale the fresh air outside. Her steps are firm as she walks through the grounds of the botanical labs, past humans, machines and… animals? Y/N’s eyes widen briefly as she notices multiple small Pandoran animals run around the gardens, carefree and in their own little worlds, leaving prints on the soil as they move. Some humans in breathing masks sigh as the creatures mess up some of the plants but… other than that, the animals are not attacking them. In all of her months on Pandora, Y/N has never seen such a thing. Wild Pandoran animals not completely annihilating humans? What in the science department fuckery is going on here? Some people have now noticed the Recom and they’re just as much in awe to see the Major General there as Y/N is seeing those animals. Noticing this, Y/N hardens her resolve, retaining back her commanding officer demeanor with ears up and relaxed tail and continues forward, leaving the humans to turn their heads behind her and exchange looks with each other.

The botanical labs are the largest amongst all of the labs of the rest of the science department branches. Besides analytics laboratories inside base where they test samples, they also have grounds outside where there are gardens and greenhouses that are used to grow a large variety of Pandoran and Earth plants. But what Y/N didn’t know for a while, is that in front of the greenhouses, there are stables, barns and fenced grounds, where herbivore Pandoran animals are kept. Henry was the one who informed her of this a couple of weeks ago, during one of his rants about Bridgehead and its facilities while the team were all eating breakfast. He was telling them about how food for the Recoms and Avatars comes from these barns and gardens, completely forgetting the plate in front of him as he rambled on in a passion. She remembers how the rest of the squad teased him about being a “fuckin’ Chairborne” (slang for a Marine who spends too much time in an office environment) while they filled their mouths with food and a little smile creeps on her face. She then turns her attention towards her surroundings, where she’s now walking towards the stables.

A large wooden fence surrounds an area of hard, dry ground in front of the large stables, where a herd of sturmbeest are running around erratically under the sun, the fence preventing them from escaping. Y/N’s ears fold back as she gets closer. Usually sturmbeest are calm unless disturbed, so this is strange behavior for them. She walks up to the edge of the fence, her combat boots thudding on the dirt below her feet, before she leans with her elbows on top of the hard wood. Her eyes, half squinted from the sun, search around the running herd, blowing dust in the air and grunting as they run around erratically. The female voice that prevails over the noise gives the Recom all the answers she needs.

“HIYA!”

There she is. As beautiful as the last time that Y/N laid her eyes on her, Toddy expertly rides an adult direhorse as she chases the heard of sturmbeest around. She’s wearing the same RDA scout uniform as last time, but today she has tied her silky black hair back into a low ponytail at the base of her head along with her queue that’s connected to one of the direhorse’s neural whips. A baby blue cowboy hat that casts the right shadow to protect her pretty face from the scorching sun above them sits on top of her head, secured by a thin chin strap around her face. Maneuvering her body expertly with the direhorse’s movement while grasping the reins firmly, and yelling at the sturmbeest to scare them in the right direction, Toddy manages to get the entire herd running towards where she wants them; a gate that leads to a fenced tunnel that’s connected to a large barn. A human man stands at the gate, hand grasping the lock and staring at Toddy with focus. As soon as the sturmbeest near, Toddy lets out a sharp whistle and hearing the mark, the man undoes the lock and swings open the gate. The herd rushes into the now open tunnel, running towards the door of the barn where another human man stands, holding it open. Toddy chases the herd down the tunnel until the last sturmbeest has ran inside the barn and turns her direhorse sideways to protect any open space at the front with its body, until the second man pushes closed the large wooden door of the barn and the first man runs over and does the lock, finally locking the sturmbeest inside their enclosure.

With an enthusiastic cheer, Toddy raises her arms up and laughs, before grabbing the reins of her direhorse and giving both men a smile with her pearly white teeth.

“Thank ya fer yer cooperation gentlemen. That was some fine work.” She says and the men give her some tired chuckles.

“Pleasure to be helping you, Toddy.” One of them replies as the other one turns to leave, before his eyes catch sight of the Recom leaning on the wooden fence, watching them.

“Looks like you’ve got some company.” He adds, giving Toddy a mischievous smirk through his breathing mask, before then giving her a nod and also turning to leave.

Toddy turns her direhorse around with a smile, walking it down the tunnel again until she’s inside the fenced area where the herd was before. Her doe eyes land on Y/N’s form, leaning relaxed on her elbows on the fence with her head tilted and locks falling over the front of one of her shoulders, looking up at Toddy with beautiful amber eyes, a friendly smile and a look that stirs a fury of butterflies in the bottom of Toddy’s stomach. She’s so breathtakingly beautiful to the poor Avatar girl that she forgets how to swallow down for a brief second. Gathering her thoughts, Toddy rides her direhorse slowly to the edge of the fence where Y/N is, holding back an excited smile.

“Ya really came…” She says softly as she stops the large animal, its six strong legs now standing still in front of the Recom who’s still looking up at its rider through long lashes with her head tilted. Y/N’s beautiful smile widens.

“You asked me to. How could I refuse an offer from a pretty lady?” She replies, raising her head to look up at Toddy properly. Y/N’s ears fold back and she swallows as she processes what the hell she just spewed out of her mouth. Did she just… flirt with the science chick? But Toddy’s sweet chuckle brings her attention back to her.

“Oh yeah? Well ya didn’t seem ta be thinkin’ much of this purty lady when ya didn’t even come ta see ‘er during these months.” She replies, tilting her cowboy hat slightly to mock a greeting to Y/N. The General bites the inside of her cheek and chuckles before she swings back and moves her arms, opening them to lean on the fence with her gloved palms.

“Well I hope you’ll forgive this poor General’s manners.” She says, smiling up at Toddy again. The sun is still falling on her eyes and she has to squint them to see the Avatar girl properly, mounted comfortably on the saddle on her direhorse’s back. Toddy smirks.

“I’ll see what I can do.” She replies, before moving her animal to completely press the side of its body to the fence and reaching down a hand towards Y/N. The Recom hesitates for a bit, looking at the smooth palm facing her, but she swallows down her doubts and grasps Toddy’s hand, putting a foot on one of the wooden bars of the fence as the Avatar pulls her up by her arm. Toddy scoots forward to make space for Y/N to sit behind her on the saddle, her tail resting on the General’s thigh as she gets comfortable. When Y/N has sat properly behind her, Toddy grabs the reins with both hands again, and directs the animal to walk slowly towards the stables. Y/N’s hands slide up to Toddy’s shoulders, holding gently for stability and not wanting to get into her personal space too much.

“I picked up a southern drawl from your way of talking that day, but seeing and hearing you today, I have to ask, where are you from?” Y/N asks as Toddy continues riding the animal steadily towards the stables. The Avatar chuckles.

“Wouldn’t ya like ta know, gun girl.” She replies, hesitating for a brief moment before continuing. “I’m a bit reserved about ma background. I hope ya can understand.”

Y/N nods slowly, looking away into the distance momentarily before turning to look over Toddy’s shoulder.

“Trust me, I’m a military woman who’s had plenty types of soldiers under my command. I can understand and respect when someone prefers to keep their background to themselves. A lot of my operators prefer it that way. I as well prefer it that way. It lets us see each other for who we really are, with no judgement.” She says, and that earns her another chuckle from the woman in front of her.

“Thank ya.”

Y/N smiles, changing the topic.

“That was some mean work back there. I’m quite impressed, honestly. And you’re talking more like yourself today. Decided to finally show me your colors, scout girl?” She says and Toddy lets out an amused laugh.

“Yeah, I try ta sound more professional with ya higher up folks. I had ta learn how ta dilute ma accent when I started workin’ ‘ere ‘cuz people couldn’t understand me. But right now, I’m feelin’ like bein’ maself.” She says with a proud tone while raising her head up and Y/N can’t help but chuckle at her honest personality.

“Well consider me charmed.”

The direhorse now walks into the stables, shielding both women from the sun above and Toddy stops it before leaning up to get off. She jumps down and holds up a hand for Y/N to do the same, and when she does, Toddy moves her arm to disconnect her neural whip from the direhorse’s. Y/N watches in curiosity as the pink tendrils come apart, undoing the bond between the Avatar and the animal.

“Why do you do that?” She asks, as Toddy grabs the reins of the animal before turning her head to look at her.

“The bond? Ya have never tried it before?” She replies in a surprised tone, watching as Y/N looks back at her dumbfounded.

“Oh… uh…. It connects me ta the direhorse. Connects our nervous systems together. That way I can feel what she is feelin’ an’ also guide ‘er ta move how I want ‘er ta move. The reins are just fer stability so I can have somethin’ ta grab on.”

Y/N raises a brow.

“Wait so…. You can talk to it?” She asks in a slightly weirded out tone before Toddy bursts out laughing.

“PFFFFFF hahahah. Nah, I don’ “talk” ta it, dummy. I send signals through ma neurons. It’s like when yer thinkin’ in yer own purty little head. The neurons in yer brain send signals ta each other but when yer neurons are connected ta the other beings’ neurons, then the signals travel between the both of y’all’s brains.” She explains, tapping her left temple with her fingertip to accentuate what she is saying. Y/N hums, nodding once and turning to look around. Everything Toddy said does make sense, that’s also what she has read on those books. Well, what her predecessor read to be more exact.

While Toddy takes her direhorse to its assigned stable, a familiar patter catches Y/N’s attention. Her cropped ears turn towards the sound and she looks down. Sure enough, the same viperwolf as last time is there, walking around Y/N’s legs and huffing out friendly cries that sound like a hyena’s laughter. Toddy who is putting her direhorse in its stable, chuckles at Y/N’s slight discomfort at the six limbed animal who looks up at her with its yellow eyes and wagging paddled tail. After removing the reins from her direhorse, she gives it a gentle pat and walks back over to the Recom. Sensing its owner getting closer the viperwolf turns and runs towards her, jumping up onto her body before Toddy affectionately tackles it down onto its back and starts rubbing its belly while squatting down.

“How’s ma little boy? Didya miss me ye little rascal?” She says lovingly, puckering her plump lips at the viperwolf whose hyena cries of happiness get louder and more high pitched as it writhes under her touch. Y/N watches, still a bit uncomfortable at the animal while Toddy gives it a final belly rub before standing up from her squat position and looking over at her.

“Not a big fan of animals, General?” She asks, walking over to Y/N with relaxed steps. The Recom shakes her head.

“No, it’s not that. I’ve just seen too many of these tear my soldiers to bits and pieces.” She replies, looking over at the viperwolf that’s back on its six limbs and following behind Toddy.

Toddy bites the inside of her cheek in thought, crossing her toned arms over her chest. Her doe eyes slowly trail up Y/N’s neck until they land on her cropped ears. Just like last time, her eyes narrow for a split second before she uncrosses her arms and puts her hands on her hips. Toddy tilts her head, moving her hips to the right, and her tail raises up in a uniform arc as a smile makes its way back onto her plump pink lips.

“Do ya fancy a little horseback ridin’, General?”

Y/N sighs, holding onto the reins on the female direhorse she’s on for dear life.

“Toddy, this isn’t… this isn’t a good idea…” She says, hoping silently that Toddy will change her mind and choose another activity to spend time on.

“Quit yer belly achin’, woman. Yer gonna be just fine.” The Avatar below her replies, adjusting a few straps on the leather saddle that Y/N is sitting on. Her baby blue cowboy hat is now strapped to her belt as she works on the saddle Y/N is sitting on. They’re back into the fenced area they were before, the now dimming light falling upon them as it gets closer to eclipse. Another female direhorse waits calmly a few feet away from them, already strapped according to Toddy’s liking.

“Now, take off yer gloves, I want ya ta feel ‘er.” She adds, patting Y/N’s thigh twice with firmness before moving towards the animal’s head and carefully taking one of its antennae into her hand. She slowly moves it over to Y/N and waits for her to grasp it herself. Y/N hesitates for a moment, looking at the end of it where the pink nerve endings are withering in place and an eery discomfort pits at the bottom of her stomach. Toddy waits patiently, until Y/N takes off her black tactical gloves and finally grabs the antenna. She holds it by the feathery tip, feeling the tiny cilia on its surface prickle gently against her palm.

“Now, ya need ta bond with ‘er, or “break” ‘er as us humans call it. Take the end of yer neural whip, and bring yer tendrils to ‘ers until they intertwine.” Toddy instructs, putting both of her hands against the base of the direhorse’s neck to soothe it. Y/N hesitates again, but Toddy’s expecting eyes that look up at her somehow push away all thoughts of doubt to the back of her mind.

Y/N reaches back for her neural whip. She gently grasps the base and slides her hand down the braid, before bringing it over her shoulder and in front of her. She holds the very end up, until the pink tendrils emerge out of the hair strands, and then looks over at Toddy again. The Avatar girl’s eyes are set on Y/N’s kuru. She skims her vision over it from base to tip, following the braided strands until it reaches the tiny withering tendrils. Then she looks up at Y/N again and smiles, her pretty eyes almost glimmering.

“Come on, ya big baby. I ain’t got all day.”

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek before turning her attention to the antenna in her hand. Well, fuck it. She brings the end of her neural whip close to the direhorse’s.

Immediately the tendrils between them start interlocking with each other, one by one until they become one joint neural transmitter. Y/N’s breath catches in her throat. Immediately a fast amount of information hits her all at once, a lot of new sensations, all washing over her in a wave. She lets go of the newly formed bond and grabs onto the direhorse for dear life, as her pupils enlarge.

“Holy shit-“ She breathes out, as Toddy notices the change and grabs onto her thigh to give her a stronger sense of balance while her brain tries to process. The animal moves in place, huffing out and moving its head up and down once, trying to get used to Y/N’s nervous system.

“Alright, calm down. Yer stressin’ ‘er. She can feel what yer feelin’ now.” Toddy says to Y/N with a smile, watching as the General blinks rapidly to try and adjust her enlarged pupils. She takes a deep breath with her eyes closed and the direhorse follows suit, calming down and standing still with a final grunt. Toddy chuckles, watching the animal before turning to Y/N with a smile.

“So? How’re ya feelin’? Feels amazin’ right?” She says softly, stroking Y/N’s thigh to soothe her from her still alarmed nervous system. Y/N swallows, finally raising her head and opening her eyes.

“Fuck. I feel everything. It’s like she’s another limb of mine.” She says, turning to look at Toddy with wide eyes, who looks back at her with a chuckle.

“I know right? Come on feel ‘er. Feel ‘er breathin’, the strong muscles in ‘er legs. It’s like they’re a part of ya now, ain’t it?” She tells Y/N, sliding her other hand closer to the operculi down the animal’s neck, feeling as they expand to fill its powerful lungs with air. Y/N tries to get used to the feeling. It’s foreign, twisting with other sensations in her body and she doesn’t like it. Toddy notices her discomfort, the way she’s clenching her fists and her tense shoulders. She notices as it gets passed down to the animal which starts moving in place and grunting again. Her hand gently squeezes Y/N’s thigh through her tactical pants.

“Hey. Listen ta me; calm down. Okay? Take a deep breath. It’s yer first time makin’ the bond so normally yer nervous system is overwhelmed. But trust me, yer body is made fer this, don’ fight it.” Toddy tells her softly, keeping her grip on her soft thigh.

After a few seconds, Y/N complies, taking her time to fill her lungs with a deep breath and steadying herself. There’s still a pit of discomfort in the bottom of her stomach but she tries to ignore it, after all the sooner she is done with this, the better. She straightens up her posture, leaning her head slightly back, and her grip on the reins loosens. Toddy’s lips turn up into a beautiful, soft smile.

“Good girl.” She says gently, still comfortingly stroking Y/N’s thigh. After a few seconds, Y/N’s brain seems to have processed the new information, and her pupils return to normal size, granting back her sharp vision. The Recom huffs out in amusement, slightly embarrassed at how much this damn bond affected her.

“Is this what you have to go through every time you connect to something? How do those savages possibly manage to strike us so easily while changing animals?” She says, more to herself than to Toddy. The Avatar seems displeased at her words for a second, before removing her hand from Y/N’s thigh and leaning back.

“The natives connect their newborns immediately ta their mama after their birth. And then immediately after that, connect them ta Eywa. By doin’ this, their bodies gain this connection early and can process it throughout their life with no problems. Avatars and Recoms however, are usually of seventeen ta twenty years of age when they make their first bond and since their bodies ain’t used ta it, it overwhelms their nervous system fer a while. But don’ ya worry that purty little head of yers, because ya ain’t even gonna feel yer next bond after this.” She explains, hitting Y/N’s knee playfully with her fist at the last sentence and the Recom chuckles in response.

“Now.” Toddy continues, clapping her hands once. “Let’s git back ta where we were, shall we? I want ya ta ride ‘er.”

Y/N sighs, closing her eyes briefly.

“Right.” She says, raising a brow at the Avatar below her. “And how exactly do I do that?”

Toddy laughs sweetly, incredibly amused at how she’s managed to frighten the big scary General with a simple horseback riding session.

“Well, think about ‘er moving. Visualize what ya want ‘er ta do and how ya want ‘er ta move, and tell that ta ‘er.”

Y/N nods slowly, turning her attention to the head of the animal in front of her. It moves once in place, now trying to get some movement into its body from standing still for so many minutes. Y/N focuses, imagining it walking forward in a slow pace, and just as she’s about to “tell” it to move, automatically the animal starts walking forward. That catches Y/N off guard a bit, and she loses her balance for a split second before grabbing the reins firmly and straightening her posture. The direhorse continues walking forward slowly, its large strong hooves thumping on the dirt below them.

“Yeah just like that!” Toddy comments with a smile, before running to the other direhorse a few feet away and effortlessly hoping on its saddle. With Toddy’s guidance it catches up to Y/N’s direhorse in a second, and slows down to its pace.

“Now, try a little faster.” Toddy says, guiding her animal forward to trot ahead, helping Y/N to visualize how her own direhorse should move. She follows, guiding it after Toddy and in no time her direhorse is also trotting faster next to Toddy, both animals now moving next to each other again. The Avatar laughs.

“Lookit ya! Ya got a hang of it so fast!”

Y/N smiles, looking almost mesmerized at the way Toddy’s pearly white teeth show with her beautiful laugh. She also has sharp canines and incisors, just like Y/N and her squad, and she trails her eyes over them for a second.

“Yeah once you figure out that it’s just like you’re moving another limb, it becomes easier.” She comments, turning to watch how her direhorse is trotting. Toddy chuckles.

“Alright smartie pants, let’s see ya do more.” She replies mischievously, before her own direhorse dashes off in a matter of seconds and starts running, following the inside of the fence.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Y/N yells after her with a smile. She moves her own animal after Toddy, encouraging it to pick up pace with no fear.

“Catch me if ya can, gun girl!” Toddy yells back at her enthusiastically as her direhorse runs further away from the Recom. Y/N guides her own direhorse to start running, and in a second that’s just what it does, moving all of its powerful six legs together to catch up to the other animal. With its movement, it causes Y/N to have to shift her body so that she doesn’t lose her balance, pushing her chest forward and sliding her rear further back, her tail moving up into an arch to grant her more stability. Her strong thighs flex, as her feet ground themselves on the stirrups of the saddle and the muscles of her abdomen tense with each leap of the direhorse’s pace.

Toddy watches amazed as the Recom seems to have already adapted to her animal’s movement and is catching up to her, showing the core strength that her and her fellow Marines have, as she balances on the direhorse’s back.

A mischievous smirk plasters on the Avatar’s beautiful face, as Y/N has now caught up to her.

“You were saying?” The Recom comments with a smirk of her own, raising one of her elegant brows teasingly. Both animals are now running next to each other, blowing and grunting at the exercise that their riders are guiding them through.

“Alright, don’ get cocky with me now, sugar. Just a few minutes ago ya were whinin’ about this bein’ a bad idea.” She replies, watching as Y/N chuckles in response.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

With the smirk not leaving her face, Toddy looks forward and her brows furrow. In a matter of seconds, Toddy’s direhorse takes off like a beast, its six limbs flexing powerfully as it runs with high speed towards the edge of the wooden fence. Y/N’s eyes widen, as the animal doesn’t seem to stop, getting closer and closer to the surface of the fence, while Toddy hasn’t lost her balance or grip on the animal for even just a split second, even while its movement is throwing her thin body upwards continuously. Her tail is now also in a high arch, and she pushes her lower body upwards, standing up from the saddle while weighing on her feet on the stirrups. Just as the direhorse is about to touch the wooden fence, its two back legs plant themselves firmly on the ground with a loud thump, and with a powerful flex from its strong muscles, its on the air, jumping over the fence. Y/N watches in amazement as its four front legs land a couple of feet away on the other side, blowing up a cloud of dust, with Toddy still standing up from her saddle, before it lands fully on the ground.

“Holy fuck.” The Recom whistles, her own direhorse slowing down. Toddy turns the animal around so she can face Y/N. Her chest is heaving, and the expression on her beautiful face shows nothing but pure happiness, with glinting amber eyes while she sits back on the saddle.

Y/N walks her direhorse slowly towards the edge of the fence, smiling at Toddy with her pearly white teeth.

“Alright, alright. You got me beat.” She jokes, raising both her palms up in surrender. “That was amazing.” She adds and Toddy laughs, the sweet sound filling the air around them. A gentle breeze blows past the women and their animals, blowing the strands of Y/N’s hair with it. Toddy, looks at her, still smiling, while she adjusts her grip on the reins.

“Ya know, I haven’t had this much fun in ages…” She says softly, lowering her gaze to the ground, as a soft purple blush starts showing on the flawless blue skin of her pretty face. Y/N tilts her head to the left, smiling softly at the Avatar, while her eyes travel over her form for a bit.

“With you being so wonderfully outgoing, I find that hard to believe.” She replies, watching as a soft chuckle leaves Toddy’s throat.

“I ain’t really this outgoing with other people, they tend ta judge the livin’ fuck outta me. But fer some reason, ya don’t. Thank ya, for that.”

Y/N’s smile falls for a second, her ears not believing what they just heard. Who could possibly not like Toddy?

The Recom reaches over the fence, putting her warm hand on Toddy’s shoulder and squeezing it comfortingly.

“I think you’re just hanging around the wrong crowd. My team would love you.” She says, her eyes drifting over to the way Toddy’s throat moves as she lets out another chuckle.

“I like ya.”

Pain. Dread. Hatred. This is all Miles feels as he painfully throws his aching body onto his banshee’s saddle, holding onto the adjustable straps for dear life. His body is freezing cold, drenched head to toe and his flesh throbs painfully from every bruise, scratch and would inflicted upon it. His left eye is heavily bruised, swollen and purple while both of his cheekbones are suffering the same fate. The scratch on the top left of his forehead is still leaking out blood, along with the other deeper and longer cut on his left cheekbone. The flat bridge of his nose throbs painfully, his left nostril leaking out crimson that drips down his open mouth and fills his tastebuds with the rich taste of iron. His jaw hurts, swollen and purple. His shoulder hurts. His arms hurt. His whole body hurts. Everything hurts. Everything. But Miles is used to physical pain. He’s had to deal with it his whole life, so he pushes it aside as for now, the only goal is getting back to the main base. What Miles isn’t used to however, is this painful throb in his chest, this deadly weight in his heart, as he watches the now calm water show no signs of Spider anymore.

He left. He left him. His son. His son left him. To go to Jake Sully.

With a grunt of pain, he gathers all the strength left in his exhausted muscles and hauls his body on the ikran. The animal screeches in worry, its eyes watching its owner’s pained movements as he connects their neural whips together.

No one responded. He called during the battle but no one responded in the throat coms. Is his team dead? Are they all dead? Is Lyle dead? Is he all alone now?

Miles tries to get his emotions under control. They’re overwhelming him so much that the banshee is screeching, the same anxiety and hurt transferring to it through the neural bond. He can’t let himself think. At least not now. What he must focus on now is rotating to base before any other Na’vi spot him. He must get far away from here. He must.

The calming sounds of the waves as they crash against the rocks contrast heavily with the situation at hand and its surroundings, as the sea breeze blows past Miles’ drenched body, inflicting even more stinging pain on his wounds and freezing cold upon his flesh. With a pained throb he manages to send the right signals to the animal through his neural whip and soon enough it leaps off the rocky shore and into the air, flying upwards into the cloudy sky with pained thrusts of its wings, mimicking its owner’s state.

“GENERAL!”

Y/N and Toddy both turn towards the deep male voice calling out to the Recom in a hurry. Soon enough John and Henry are running towards them in full gear, the equipment clacking with each of their heavy steps.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asks, her tone and demeanor immediately switching to a serious and authoritative note, as she stands up from the wooden bench at the side of the stables where her and Toddy were just sharing some snacks and casual conversation. The viperwolf between Toddy’s feet raises its head from its slumber at the sound of the two men approaching. John and Henry stop before them, saluting their General and breathing almost heavily as their tails seem tense behind them. Y/N eyes the way they are dressed in full gear and immediately her mind runs to the worst case scenario possible. Are they being ambushed?

“General, the Sea Dragon that General Ardmore appointed to Colonel Quaritch a week ago has been attacked heavily. We just got word that the situation is very serious and as we speak I have deployed multiple teams to the scene for a CASEVAC. (Casualty Evacuation)” John says in a breath, looking at Y/N with a serious expression and ears folded back.

Toddy clamps a hand over her mouth and her eyes widen as she hears the news, worry washing over her face. Y/N’s jaw clenches firmly, her masseter muscles buffing at the sides of her beautiful face.

“How many have we already lost?” She asks, her cropped ears folded back and her tail tensing behind her. John and Henry worryingly exchange brief eye contact.

“For now, there’s too many to count.” Henry replies. Y/N’s jaw moves to the side, her amber eyes losing the spark they had a few moments ago, turning almost deadly. If only Ardmore had listened to her from the beginning.

“Prepare me and the rest of the team a Kestrel while I get my gear. We’re heading there asap.” Y/N commands, immediately pushing forward to dash off. But John’s large hand upon her shoulder stops her. She turns around with a raised brow. The man’s amber eyes look at her with almost an apologetic look.

“Apologies General, but General Ardmore has momentarily forbidden you from attending to the casualty zone in fear that another conflict might arise. For now she has informed us that she has another task for you. Our radar picked up the tracker on Colonel Quaritch’s mountain banshee a few moments ago. This could potentially mean that he is still alive as those animals tend to stick to their owners at all times.”

Y/N seems anything but pleased at the very first sentence out of his mouth. Toddy now stands up from her seat, her arms crossing over her chest and her tail swinging behind her stressfully as she watches Y/N in worry. John gives Y/N a nod, his eyes that never fail to reassure and calm her down looking straight into hers and his hand squeezes her shoulder once comfortingly.

“General Ardmore wants you to deal with Colonel Quaritch and the aftermath of his actions personally. She has now given you full authority over him. You are free to handle this situation as you please.”

Title explanation:

Close Quarters Combat - Military term for combat within a confined space. In this case it refers to the little “race” Y/N and Toddy were having between them as their direhorses were running right next to each other. In Y/N’s head, it was the same as engaging in close quarters combat, because she correlates every life event to some form of military activity so she can deal with it better.

Fun fact:

Toddy is absolutely horrible at using technology. The poor girl looks like a confused grandma every time she tries to use her personal datapad, squinting her eyes and holding it at arm’s length. (Enter that one Miles scene where he asks Lyle to get some audio on the AMP Suit footage.) She has however, learned how to use its basic functions to document the flora and fauna of Pandora, helping the scientists and military as well. Her lack of using technology is also the reason why she left the sticky note on Y/N’s desk instead of just shooting her a message. According to Henry, she might actually be the only person on Bridgehead who still uses pen and paper. How did she get into Y/N’s office? Oops, that’s a little treat for the next chapter. <3

End of chapter notes:

Your wait is about to be over, pookies! Y/N and Miles finally meet in the next chapter. ヾ(๑╹◡╹)ﾉ"

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

[killzenin]

☆cw: nsfw content, 𝗠𝗗𝗡𝗜, 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁, afab!reader, cuckolding, oral (m recieving)/face fucking, threesome (mmf), pussy teasing, slapping, slight degradation from gojo and lots of praises from nanami, toys, cum eating, overstimulation, hair pulling, aftercare☆ 𝟭.𝟲𝗸 word count

☆𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢/𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫☆

part 2 of ♡︎ , also on ao3 @/killzenin !

“i can see the way you look at her.” gojo whispered in the other man’s ear. intermittently looking at you at the other side of the room, chatting with some people and then back at the blond by his side. nanami turned to him, gazing at him puzzled. 

“...huh?” lowering his tinted sunglasses his eyes fell incredulously on his companion, not believing his confused face. gojo snickered as he took a sip of his champagne filled glass. 

“i’m not dumb, i bet after you peeped at us fucking you’ve been dreaming about her ever since.”

“gojo, it's not—'' slender hands reach towards nanami’s face, which lead to face your direction. the blond’s eyes began to capture your figure, there was no hiding in his eyes how stunned his face seemed to be. as a floor-length gown with an open back and subtle sparkle draped your body, perfect for the nighttime auction you were attending. gojo, observing nanami’s wishful expression, reaches out to whisper again.

“look at yourself, it’s so fucking obvious!” he snarked, “...i mean who wouldn’t be mesmerized.” 

then gojo hesitated on his next words as he let go of nanami’s face, “she thinks you’re handsome. or at least those were her drunk words, either way…she’s thinking of a good friend of mine rather than some bastard.”

nanami said nothing, catching a clue to what his friend might be proposing, after that gojo whispered once again into his ear, “call me and we can arrange something.” he then disappeared nanami’s side to be by yours, leaving the blond all alone, pondering. 

that conversation led to where you are now, stuck between the two gorgeous men. as your mouth wrapped around nanami’s hard dick while satoru teased with his gaunt fingers around your entrance, stretching you open. both men had no need to torment your clit or nipples. that job was well executed by the small rotor vibrators attached to you. the vibrations sending you uncontrollable pleasure to those sensitive áreas, weakening you with every passing second.

if it weren’t for gojo holding you in place on the low table, your body would give out straight away as the rotors kept your nipples and clit in a pleasure loop. muffled moans came from deep within your throat, sending shivers to the blonde man. wanting more, he reached out, grabbed a fistful of your hair and started to jerk his hips forward. 

“shit darling! you’re taking my dick so well.” your eyes flew to the back of your skull as your moans became gags. the corners of your mouth had streams of drool seeping over and the tip of your nose repeatedly hit nanami’s pelvis. 

gojo laughs, “of course she does, this little slut loves to take mine.” in a swift move he harshly imprinted his hand on your ass. 

you yelp at the sudden slap and tried so hard not to choke on the blond’s length. so you tapped on the hands that held your hair, telling him to let go. and so he did with care, undoing your mouth from his length, your tongue then traveled through his base, picking up drool and precum all the way to the tip. 

your doe, teary eyes met nanami’s as you smile, such sight enthralled him. with a messy mouth and crystalized eyes looking at him with such desire, he would take you right then and there. his brown eyes followed you every move as you turned your back on him to face gojo. 

“what the fuck was that?” you teased slowly as you removed the rotors from your body. your eyes filled with sudden amusement, it wasn’t the first time he had performed some form of mild impact play, but this one stung a little bit more than usual. 

“are you jealous?” you slithered your arms around the man and faced his ear as you whisper, “that i was gagging on somebody else’s dick than yours? you know we’ve never been exclusive…right?”

“that does not mean i still want that tight little pussy all for myself.” 

“well then, you better keep up with nanami.” your lips merged with satoru’s, a sense of ownership engulfing him as his lips kissed you in a desperate manner. your hand reached out to subdue the urgency of his forgotten cock. while your hand pumped onto gojo’s length your other one gestured nanami to approach you.

once you felt his hot breath linger around the base of your neck you guided your fingers towards your needy cunt, spreading your leaking lips apart. the blond gladly accepted such invite, ripping open the condom wrap, throwing the wrap away he placed the condom on his excited dick. his tip teased around the entrance of your folds, enticing you with each fluttering stroke.

your sopping walls wrapped tightly around nanami’s length while it plunged inside of you with ease. a sudden gasp interrupted your makeout session with satoru, nanami’s girth astounded you. weak moans started to seep out of you as nanami slowly thrusted his way in and out.

your lips then traced downwards flashing kisses from his jaw, down to his chest, abs then pelvis alongside pumping his cock rougher and faster as you went down. 

“the fuck? nanami i told you when we made the deal, you can’t fuck her!” gojo’s icy eyes stared down at the blond as he kept on slowly thrusting into you. 

“yeah, sorry man.” he mocked, drunk on ecstasy of how your walls squeezed on him, but before gojo could do anything you interjected. 

“le-ughh— let him.” with shaky words you voiced how you’d approved nanami’s actions. “it’s fineee-ahh!” nanami buckled his hips forward with more speed and force, making more prominent moans echo through the room.

“fine,” gojo’s low voice resonated, he then leveled to your height, “i’ll make you regret getting your pussy fucked by another guy sweet.”

“open your slut mouth for me, hmm?” looking up towards him, you lolled your tongue out, expectant. he then teased his dick around your mouth, smearing precum on your lips and smacking your cheeks with it until he finally let you take his length in your mouth with haste. “you needy little whore— are you enjoying getting fucked?”

both men started to simultaneously thrust inside you from opposite ends, not letting you for a second to answer coherently. only for the muffled moans and squeals to attest to a positive answer from you. gojo grabbed onto the back of your head as you started to suck him deep, nanami followed soon after on his end. the blond clutched onto your hips as he started to pound on you. the constant motion of pleasure sent your head into a fever. 

your juices began to flow down your thighs, adding more volume to the wet, slapping sounds that consumed the room. nanami became more vocal as bliss overran him. “s-shit, this pussy’s so good.”

every string of praise from nanami made your cunt leak further as gojo’s filthy words made your heart skip beats, you wanted to hear more. of how good of a cock sucker and fucker you were at the get go for both filthy rich men. gojo couldn’t get enough of your mouth, tits, ass and pussy. nanami however marveled himself in exploring every inch of you, begging for more. the lust of both men showed through them in the shape of grunts and stiff moans as they went faster.

“such a filthy whore, next time you’re taking both our cocks in that pretty pussy of yours.” you were a crying, drooling mess and imagining the scenario of gojo’s words made your insides flip and the orgasm brewing even further.

your mouth ached as you freed it from gojo’s dick, “cumming, i- i...” 

“go on darling, cum for us.” nanami adjusted his position as he was also close to cumming as well, taking a hold of your shivering thigh in the air, as he plunged himself deeper reaching your most sensitive area. 

“nana— mi so deep, so deep! yes...more…more!” your brain began to lose any sense of self as you only craved more from the blond’s erratic fucking. 

“want your cum.” you lolled out your tongue once more and took gojo’s length once more into your hollow mouth, bobbing your head fast and fisting onto what was left that could not fit.

“oh sweet, you have it” the silver haired man's head flew back as he reached out his own climax by your hands. silky, white strings of cum settled at the back of your mouth. you heartly swallowed every drop of his cum. removing his length from your mouth gojo mimicked what you had previously done to him, straightening your posture as he went down on your body kissing it.

nanami took advantage of your face now being close to his, “best cunt i’ve ever fucked princess, i would have you worshipping my cock day and night.” his husk words were what set your orgasm in motion while he kissed around the sweet spot on your neck. you began to spasm as your pussy swallowed him deeper, soon finding relief as he loaded the condom to the brim.  

after collapsing your orgasm, gojo cradled your body to his room. your eyes drooped, too tired to hang on as they sought for deep slumber. however, in the fleeting moments your eyes opened you saw how nanami followed closely behind both of you, half clothed. as the tall man laid you down on his fluffy bed he instructed nanami to keep you awake as he went out of the room to bring a damp towel. 

“gimme your phone” you breathed, the blonde romaged in his pocket and reached out his phone, giving it to you unlocked. with fading vision you typed in your phone number into his contact list. 

with what little strength you got left you cupped his cheek and pecked nanami on his lips, “call me whenever you want.”

im open to recieve submissions ! ㅤ ©killzenin

[strawbewiemilk]

How to Lose Weight Fast: My Tips and Tricks

Hey everyone!

If you're looking to lose weight quickly, I've got some tips and tricks that have worked wonders for me. My approach focuses on reducing portion sizes and doing minimal workouts, like walking. Here's how you can get started:

1. Portion Control

Measure Your Food: Use measuring cups and a kitchen scale to keep track of your portions. It's easy to eat more than you think!

Small Plates: Eat your meals on smaller plates. This simple trick can help reduce your portion sizes without making you feel deprived.

Mindful Eating: Pay attention to what you're eating. Eat slowly and savor each bite, which can help you feel full with less food.

2. Walk, Walk, Walk

Set a Daily Goal: Aim to walk at least 10,000 steps each day. Walking is a simple, low-impact exercise that can burn calories and improve your overall health.

Break It Up: If walking 10k steps at once feels daunting, break it up throughout the day. Take short walks after meals or during breaks.

Make It Enjoyable: Listen to music, podcasts, or audiobooks to make your walks more enjoyable. Explore new routes to keep things interesting.

3. Stay Hydrated

Drink Water Before Meals: Drinking a glass of water before eating can help you feel fuller and reduce your food intake.

Carry a Water Bottle: Always have a water bottle with you to stay hydrated throughout the day. Sometimes thirst can be mistaken for hunger.

4. Plan Your Meals

Pre-portion Snacks: Divide snacks into small, individual portions to avoid overeating.

Prepare Ahead: Plan and prep your meals in advance. This can help you stick to your portion sizes and avoid the temptation of unhealthy options.

5. Intermittent Fasting

Choose a Window: Consider trying intermittent fasting, where you eat all your meals within a specific time window (like 8 hours) and fast for the remaining 16 hours. This can help reduce overall calorie intake.

6. Healthy Swaps

Low-Calorie Options: Replace high-calorie foods with lower-calorie alternatives. For example, swap regular pasta with zucchini noodles or cauliflower rice.

High Volume, Low Cal: Focus on foods that are high in volume but low in calories, like vegetables and lean proteins. They can fill you up without adding too many calories.

7. Accountability

Track Your Progress: Keep a journal of your food intake, exercise, and weight loss progress. This can help you stay on track and make necessary adjustments.

Find a Buddy: Having a friend or online community to share your journey with can provide motivation and support.

Remember, losing weight fast requires dedication and commitment. It's important to find what works best for you and to prioritize your health. If you have any questions or need more tips, feel free to ask!

Stay strong and keep going!

[theamityelf]

(Mini THH AU Masterlist)

When Nagito is given the student files, for beating the Final Dead Room, he puts Tiny Makoto on top of his head before he opens the binder.

"Hey, wait!" Makoto chitters, practically swimming in Nagito's tangled hair. (He uses a very sweet-smelling shampoo. Honey-like.) "Wait, Nagito, I can't see it from here!"

This was, of course, the point. Makoto being the Ultimate Hope has changed Nagito's treatment of him in a number of ways, but it hasn't changed his reluctance to share information until he's sure what it is.

"It's okay," Nagito soothes. "Just a minute."

Because Makoto has already managed to get his foot stuck, he is too busy untangling Nagito's thick, wavy locks from his left leg to quite notice the subtle change in Nagito's breathing and the haste with which he is turning through the binder until Nagito starts making odd sounds that theoretically resemble laughter.

"Nagito?" There is no response; the odd laughter continues, intermittently. Makoto has freed himself from the tangle, at this point, though he did lose a shoe in there. He makes his way to the front of Nagito's head, trying to see what's wrong, but Nagito finally notices him again and grasps immediately onto the reminder that he's not alone:

He drops the binder to the floor with a heavy thud, once again denying Makoto the chance to even glimpse what's inside, and swiftly removes Makoto from his head.

(Ever since learning of the 'Ultimate Hope' thing, he never lets Makoto stand on just one of his hands; he always cups both hands beneath him, like a papasan chair.)

"Oh, I understand now!" he exclaims, and Uh-oh, he's got that look in his eyes. "Why the Ultimate Hope was given to me. Now I understand. I understand." He repeats the words 'I understand' like they're his lifeline. His speaking rhythm is erratic, going from his usual slow, contemplative pace to something desperate, like he needs the words to leave his mouth because they disgust him.

"Nagito, what happened? What did the binder say?"

It's unclear whether he even hears him. "You should...hate me, you know. You should have hated me as much as I loved you. You should be repulsed to be held by me. I'm so filthy...I understand, I understand. If your goodness allows you to tolerate me, think what might have happened..."

"You're not making sense. Why would I hate you? You're my friend!"

"Don't say that."

"You are! Nagito, please just tell me what you read! You might have misunderstood it or something!"

Nagito violently shakes his head. (Makoto sees his shoe go flying across the room, but that's the least of his concerns right now.) Then he shuts his eyes and takes some deep breaths. When he opens them again, he has...a smile on his face. "I'm sorry. My self-indulgent reaction has alarmed you," he says. His head slowly dips to the side, his expression slackening. "I'd ask you to pardon my theatrics, but you've already pardoned far too much. Let's see..." He starts to semi-casually search the room.

"What's going on?"

"I think I'll explain it when we're back at the cabin. Okay?"

Makoto frowns, half-willing to accept the delay, but... "You seemed really upset."

"I had no right to be. Ah!" With a satisfied look, he opens some kind of cabinet. Makoto can't see what's inside, from the position he's in. "Perfect. Now, if this place is as well-stocked as I hope, I can wrap you in some kevlar and put you in my pocket."

"But what about the investigation?!"

"I'll get around to that. After all, we know better than to believe that the others will figure everything out on their own."

"Huh?" Makoto is stunned by the sheer reproach in Nagito's voice when he speaks those words. He's never heard anything like that from him before, least of all towards his classmates.

At the sound of Makoto's surprise, Nagito's gaze fastens on him again, instead of whatever is in that cabinet, and a wistful smile softens his face. His thumb caresses Makoto's cheek adoringly, almost involuntarily, it seems. (It almost reminds Makoto of Mikan, and how she would handle Taka. And thinking of Mikan reminds him of exactly how helpless it is to be this small.)

"Don't worry," Nagito says. "Ah, I know trash like me has no business giving you any command, but...what I mean to say is, I will ensure you don't have to worry. I will ensure it, with everything I have. If I can protect you...perhaps my worthless life has value. No, that's putting it strongly. It has use."

"...Seriously, what happened?!"