#The mask never looks quite right.. but if I keep trying to fix it then I would never finish any art with Py in it ^^

[artsy-n-smartsy]

Who's your favorite tf2 character? Also, who's your favorite to draw, if that's different than your overall fave?

My top 3 faves are Pyro, Engie and Scout! And my fave to draw is Pyro! (even though I draw Py a bit inconsistently ^^; )

[metranart]

Acting like a bird in heat, Hawks ends up fulfilling his mating cycles with you… but now that his mind isn’t a pool of hormones… why does he keep looking for you?

Hawks x Student! Reader (Part 1)

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Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut.

-

The last time you saw him, your fingers dripped in his milky and creamy essence, his cheeks were bright red, and foggy as the feather adorning his back, and his voice held an elusive pant as if trying to catch his breath, along with his actions. Self-consciousness, the new mask for him to wear as he disentangled your hand from his now flaccid cock, almost caringly, half-lidded golden orbs shinning in its post-delirium bliss yet hiding a regretful truth. How the fuck did this happened? And why the hell did he allowed it? What was that new confusing feeling inside his chest?Takami Keigo knew what it was, but had never had such a close encounter with it in his whole life. 

Shame. 

No man, no citizen, no hero... –shall call himself trustworthy, after what he did. After the kind of thoughts that now circled his brain...agh! and he called himself the Number two hero. What a farse.

A steady hand passed through his golden locks, disheveled strands restricting the smooth motion, as he heavily sighed. 

I need a bath, thought mildly annoyed. Maybe that would serve him to clear his mind and untangle the treacherous feeling threatening to drive him insane, a cold shower would serve the purpose of cooling the deep mortification, he was experiencing. Fresh summer wind ruffled the papers scattered on top of his desk and at the same time, refreshed his blushing skin. The memory of his recent untactful sin, raving his brain like a horde of savages attacking a peaceful village. Damn his luck. Damn his choice of actions and must of all, damned the day, he saved you. Hawks could still remember so many details, little yet so endearing details about you. When arrived at the scene never thought for a minute, would become involved in such colorful acts.

Everything went peachy during the rescue; Endeavor handled the Villain with upmost care while incinerating his head right away from his body. Tactful, the winged hero recalled to think quite amused, it would have been a scarring scene, if not were for the villain being a Nomus. Yet, he couldn’t avoid but to think, there still were so many more options to reach the same end. His job in this particular scene was easy, to say the least. Save the hostage. A sweet, scared and highly ordinary young girl who found herself trapped in the crossed fire. UA uniform hugging your figure, as the Nomus paraded itself around you like a bee setting his sting to hurt. There was little time to act, and the moment the flames exploded from the Number one hero, Hawks saw his window open to save the deceptive young girl. Flying through hell fire landed with a soft thud in front of you, displaying his wings to envelop you in a cocoon of feathers, the red flames licking his crimson wings while shielding you from harm.

His gloved hands went straight to your waist in a studied motion, at the same time his gaze fixed in yours asking for permission to touch you, you almost threw yourself at him like a trembling leaf who seek shelter from the chaotic winds. The winged hero was quick enough to pull you into his welcome arms and fly up, taking you both from the ground just in time. The scorching heat caressed his flying form before both were out of reach. The crowd around the sinister cheered the incineration of the villain, and a swift smirk kidnapped the blonde’s lips in a sassy gest.

He knew he have it in him, Endeavor just needed a few notches in the right direction. All those musings were curtly interrupted as his eyes focused on the civilian resting in his arms, your round eyes caught him off guard, nevertheless, was quick to smile and reassure your questioning stare. You seemed in shock, probable still were. These nasty things never left a sweet taste behind. Flying you to the safety of the ground, landed near the scene, but far away to gift you with some privacy to compose. Hawks gently unwrapped you from his chest and placed a comforting hand over your hunched shoulders, reassuring smile always present in his welcome expression. "It´s ok, you are safe now." His palm gently squeezed your shoulder, thumb doing comforting circle motions over the fabric of the uniform. "Breath, in and out, you'll see how you feel better in matter of seconds–" You managed to quirk the edge of your lip up, and your frame stopped shaking, the tremors slowly disappearing the more oxygen you gulped. "Atta girl" The hero cheered, lowly. "In and out, you’re almost a pro." His good-hearted joke reaped the fruits as a melodic giggle escaped out of you, and your tense frame seemed to relax. "T-thank you, Hawks" you timidly stammered, eyes glued to your fidgeting fingers interlacing each other, nervously.

Looking up from your hands met his gleeful stare, and your cheeks gained a dust of pink. Your lips opened and closed as if wanted to say something but didn’t dare to. Hawks pretended no to notice, to save you the embarrassment. 

He was used to have this effect over the female population, every woman in town was one smirk away from his warm bed, but the young hero had grown tired of those kinds of relationships. When you can have all, you can eat, eventually the buffet seemed less attractive, almost boring.

He liked sex, holly shit, he fucking did! as much as the next guy would. But he needed a challenge –   actually wasn’t sure what he needed, but something inside him was unsatisfied and restless, continuingly poking at the back of his mind.

“Don’t mention it, cutie.” The hero said simply and looking around, realized that your home shouldn't be far away.

“If you want, I can take you to your house" he suggested, in a carefree and friendly tone, "flying everything is closer." Cheerfully, added.

Taking a moment to think, nibble your lower lip a bit but you ended up accepting. His amber glasses shone under the rays of the sun and without preamble, he offered you his arms which you nervously climb for him to leave the safety of the ground and surf the sky, again.

"Are you comfortable?” Keigo asked, feeling your body a little tense among his arms, being carried bride style across the sky would definitely woo any girl, nevertheless, you seem more uncomfortable than anything else. 

“M´Ok.” you said, curtly, and hawks, merely nodded. “By the way, are we heading in the right direction?"

A blush swept across your cheeks at the realization of what he just stated, and timidly squeezing his arm to feel more secure, you glanced down and before you could tell him exactly where your house was, you noticed something coating your fingers.

“You are hurt!” You half-yelled worried, looking at your blood covered hand, and then, at his wounds. You had not noticed it because he had not said anything, nor had he complained, but his arm was burned and one of his wings was semi-scorched. To which the young hero, just shrugged his shoulders, not giving it much importance.

"Comes with the territory." He openly joked, but your eyebrows continued to frown. "It's not serious, a few of Endevour´s flames got me... nothing that won't heal in a few days." He encouraged you, but you weren't able to shake the feeling of guilt.

You had been training hard to become a hero, and just when it was time to prove yourself, you froze.

It was so, so embarrassing that Todoroki's father had to save you, that you refused to go back to the dormitory you shared with your class A classmates. Surely, they would be worried, not to mention, you had already ghosted, a few text messages from Professor Aizawa asking if you were okay. But you just kept feeling like you let everyone down. That was why you preferred to go home and cry your eyes out in the solitude of your bedroom, or among your mom’s arms. 

Now, you felt even worse, since Hawks, the number two hero, was injured because of you. Maybe he didn't show it since he was too professional, but that wound was serious and would take more than a few days to heal, not to mention it could get infected.

Ugh! you had to help him, was the least you could do… It was what a true hero would do.

Setting your mind, you decided to use your quirk on him, despite Recovery Girl several warnings. Without a doubt, you could heal him... now the only setback was, not losing control while doing it.

An idea suddenly lights your brain, and catching a glimpse of a well-known hidden alleyway, near your house, you signaled to him that you had arrived.

Hawks landed softly, and let you down, looking around the place. "I'll take you to the door, which one is yours?" The young hero, offered.

��...Is the one on the other side of the alley.” You indicated, signaling a house, close by.

“Oh, fine.” Keigo said, not really understanding why you choose to walk instead of fly straight to your house, but he let it pass. “Lead the way, then.”

Both entered the alley which was being embraced by thin shadows and before you reached the other side, you turned around and looking at Hawks with embarrassment, you fidgeted with your fingers for a moment. Surprise morphed Keigo´s features comically when out of all the requests in the world, you suddenly asked. 

“May-may I give you a kiss?” You asked, timidly and noticing his bemused expression, corrected. “...As a way of thanking you.... for saving me....”

Your timid request took him by surprise momentarily, but soon his features regain his cool, and was quick to nod to then leant down. A kiss on the cheek, Keigo thought it to be innocent enough, not a usual request, nevertheless, a simple one. If this put you to rest, he'll humor you. Keigo was cocking his head for you to place your sweet lips.... it's now or never, you breathed deeply.... if you were going to use your quirk, now was the moment.

Two slender hands perched in each side of the Hero´s face and in a firm, straight movement, you cocked his face in your direction, surprise registered in his face, and his golden orbs popped open at the feeling of your lips locking with his.    

COMING SOON PART 2....

⭕️ In my PATREON you will find NSFW art of this chapter and more spicy MHA NSFW art and exclusive smut fanfiction.... Plus 'Spicy Foreplay tier reward' like: voting poll privilege for the exclusively Patreon one-shot stories where you can choose the couple pairing and kinky mood for the story and NSFW art, along with some naughty animation like THIS ONE ....and my eternal and vast gratitude for your support!!!

[rileyslibrary]

The Log Cabin: Hurt

Synopsis: You and Ghost are on your way towards your shared vacation in Scotland.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Notes:

This is the second part of the story. Here’s Part 1 if you’re interested.

Hurt/comfort.

Render by @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot.

No warnings. Lots of emotions towards the end, though.

———————————————————————

��You sure?” You ask as you approach a red light.

Ghost closes his eyes and leans back in his seat. He lets out a long and loud sigh behind his mask.

“This is the fifth time you’ve asked if I’m sure,” he protests. “Ask me again, and I will throw you out of the bloody car.”

He won’t do it. He used the exact same threat when you voiced your concerns the third time. You understand him, though; you’re not even on the highway yet, and you’ve been bugging him with your insecurities.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper and lower your head to the water bottle you’ve secured between your thighs.

He turns to look at you, then shifts his focus back to the road as the traffic light turns orange.

“I don’t do charity work when it comes to vacations,” he reassures you and changes gears. “I’m absolutely certain of my decision.”

You drive through the city streets, trying to reach the highway. You look out the car’s window; there are curious glances directed at you from the outside. People look alarmed, old ladies clutch their purses tighter, and fathers hold their children closer.

You can’t blame them; they’re looking at two masked figures in a car filled with tools and gear in the backseats.

“We look like we’re about to rob a bank, don’t you think?” You ask, concerned, as you observe a woman ushering her son into a store upon spotting you.

“Don’t take it off yet,” he warns you. “Wait till we get to the highway.”

He’s right. His face is unknown in the city, whereas yours is, and any identification could link him to you. That’s why he handed you a plain black balaclava before you left the base, ensuring your mutual anonymity. It’s a small city, after all.

“What if we get stopped by the police?” you ask. “Someone might have alerted them.”

He shakes his head. “Unlikely,” he replies. “The police is familiar with me and my car. Many soldiers keep their identities concealed due to the base. Civilians aren’t accustomed to it, that’s all.”

He stops at a zebra crossing and motions with his hand at the people waiting, giving them permission to cross the road.

“Look at them,” he whispers as he watches them successfully reaching the other side of the pavement. “So eager to display their faces, like they’ve never done anything sinister in their lives.”

You look at him from the corner of your eye, wondering if his words hide a twinge of guilt or envy—a yearning for freedom, just like those civilians crossing the street. They are free to walk as they please, while he is doomed to wear a cloth on his face until he’s away from anything human.

You tug at your mask. “It’s getting quite stuffy in here; mind if I...” you say and motion towards the car’s A/C controls.

He shrugs. That’s your “go ahead” sign.

You enter the highway, and he removes his mask. He reaches into the back pocket of his seat and tugs his balaclava there. He scratches his left cheek.

You follow his lead but tuck yours into your door’s side pocket. Now that your mouth is free from obstructions, you can drink water. You open the bottle and drive it into your mouth.

“Easy with the water,” Ghost advises. “We won’t find any stops for the next three hours.”

“Three hours?!” You ask.

He nods, his eyes still fixed on the road, indifferent to your shocked reaction. He reaches into the side pocket of his door and pulls a pair of sunglasses out. He secures them on his face.

“I have never seen you with sunglasses before.” You comment.

He smirks. He looks very handsome when he does that. Not conventionally attractive, though. He has a very rugged, almost weird, to point out beauty. Like those second-hand objects you find in an antique shop; they are bizarre to look at, but you can’t shift your eyes away from them. You want to study and analyse them as closely as possible.

You stare at his profile and notice him looking back at you. He still has that smirk on his face. You divert your attention back to the road.

“Sorry.” You murmur.

He looks ahead and his smile widens.

After some time, you reach your first stop; a service station with a convenience store, and fast food joint. Ghost asks if you want to grab a bite, and you shake your head. In response, he motions towards the side of the gas station.

“Loo’s over there. I’ll refuel the car.”

You hurry to the restroom; the last thing you want is to hinder his program. You better be as fast and efficient as possible.

When you return, Ghost is already in the driver’s seat. You settle into your seat beside him, apologising for your delay. He clicks his tongue.

“You went to the restroom; no need to fret.” He says as he hands you a few snacks he bought from the convenience store.

“For me?” you ask, surprised.

“For you,” he confirms and starts up the engine. “So you don’t start whining that you’re hungry when we are in the middle of nowhere.”

The rest of the trip is beautiful. The landscape shifts profoundly, from the mundane colours of the city to the towering trees that grow denser, with hues of green more vibrant than any photo could capture. The radio plays some mainstream pop music, which doesn’t suit the scenery but makes everything less awkward between you.

Occasionally, you spot a flock of sheep and comment. Ghost doesn’t respond but shifts his gaze from the road to where you’re pointing so he can give you his full attention. He smiles every time, and you wonder whether he’s genuinely happy or just trying to act friendly. Then again, when did Ghost ever try to act friendly? He’s enjoying it as well.

You must have reached the outskirts of civilisation now since the radio has started to make white noise. He switches it off.

Silence. Awkward silence.

“Sorry.” He says, which is very ironic since he was the one who lectured you a few hours ago to stop apologising for things you can’t control. “I don’t have any CDs.”

An arrogant chuckle escapes you. You didn’t mean to come across that way, but there’s no need for CDs; although the car isn’t new, it has built-in Bluetooth. You wonder if he knows it.

“Do you mind?” You ask, showing him your phone.

He looks at it, raising an eyebrow from behind his sunglasses. He must be thinking you’re asking for permission to call someone.

You connect your phone to the car’s Bluetooth and launch Spotify. Music starts playing again. His attention alternates between the radio and your phone.

“Why don’t you look at that!” He remarks. “I knew you could do that; I just never bothered to figure out how.”

“I’ll show you later.” You reply.

“Do you take requests?”

You nod and smile. “What’s your poison, Lieutenant?”

“Johnny Cash.” He replies. “Hurt.”

You nod again, search for the song and press play. You try to enjoy the scenery, focusing on the trees and farms passing by, but Simon’s choice of song wraps around you.

“I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel

I focus on the pain

The only thing that’s real.”

You turn to look at him. He holds the wheel with one hand, his other resting on the car’s window. He leans against it, his face propped on his hand.

“And you could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt.”

You want to comment on the song, but your throat feels tight like something’s choking you. You swallow hard.

“What have I become?

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know goes away

In the end.”

Tears fill your eyes, threatening to escape. You don’t have sunglasses like Ghost does. It’s a matter of time until he notices.

“If I could start again

A million miles away

I would keep myself

I would find a way.”

It’s sadness, melancholy—that's what you’re feeling. But is it for Ghost and his poor song choice? Or is it for you?

For your family, your friends, and the vacation you won’t get to enjoy with them? Who are you mourning exactly? He seems to be at peace with his choices. When will this bliss come to you?

Will it ever come to you?

“Hey,” he calls out, and you turn to look at him.

Too late; he already noticed.

“It’s okay,” he soothes you. “Let it out.”

As if you wanted his permission, you begin to cry uncontrollably. You gasp for air. Ghost presses a button on his door which forces your window to open slightly. The crisp air slaps your face, but you focus on the pain, just like the song says. Your nails bite into your palms as you squeeze your fists, and that water bottle falls from your legs onto the car’s floor.

Ghost reaches over, turning the volume higher as if he’s permitting you to cry as much as you want and scream as loud as you please. You turn your head to the side, looking through blurred vision at the colours of green blending together.

He clasps your fist in his hand. You refuse to relax it.

“It’s okay.” He repeats as you pass the blue sign marked with a white ‘X’ that welcomes you to Scotland. “It’s going to be okay.”

Your first unclenches and you open your hand.

———————————————————————

Part 3 (final) this way ->

[linphd]

They see your costume rip | Headcanons

female reader

-> While on a fight, your costume rips, making almost all of your breast visible. Luckily for you, they see it and cover it up.

-> Katsuki Bakugou, Shoto Todoroki, Hitoshi Shinsou.

Katsuki Bakugou

It was a random training, nothing unusual. But you, using extra knives whenever your quirk can’t be useful, didn’t really expect them to bump into an hardened Kirishima, throwing them right back at you. But luckily for you, you were able to move away so they wouldn’t pierce through you.

Still, it was enough for one of them to rip your costume, on your chest era. Nothing out of the extraordinary for you, often wearing clothes that weren’t really hiding your breast, but still, you were at school and training.

Katsuki was quick to make an explosion, big enough to make smoke, hiding you and him. Indeed, you guys had been paired up, so he was close to you. « Thank you ! » you said. He only nodded and gave you his gauntlet so you would hold it in front of the rip and no one would see.

« But you know, I often wear clothes that show them like that. » you snorted. « So what ? Stop being a whore and be grateful I hid you. There’s this guy in a diaper creeping around. » he replied, his usual angry expression on. « Mineta, right. » you said.

« Come on ! Go back to the lockers to get it fixed ! » he exclaimed, seeing you not moving. « I’ll go, I’ll go ! I just stayed cause I know you like it when I’m a ‘whore’. » you explained, earning a snort from the blonde. You were lucky he never shut you up for flirting with him.

Shoto Todoroki

You were paired up with Shoto during a training. As Bakugou made an explosion too close to you, you were fast enough to jump and not face directly the explosion, but you were still close enough for you costume to rip at its strength.

You didn’t even notice, waiting for the blonde to leave so you’d be sure to stand up and keep training in peace. But as you stood up, Shoto noticed the huge rip in your costume. Not enough for you breast to be out like Momo’s, but enough to be embarrassing for you.

He immediately averted his gaze and created a tiny ice wall in front of you. You were about to look at him curiously when you noticed that you were just way too naked for your liking. « Oh- thanks ! » you said, trying to tie your costume to hide the rip.

« I didn’t look, I just saw a bit your skin so- » he started to explain. « Don’t be embarrassed, it’s okay, it wasn’t on purpose. » you reassured him. You knew a bit about his crush on you, as Izuku was quite the tattletale, actually.

« I managed to tie the front, see ? » you said. He nodded, a bit blushing that he had to look at the knot you had made -it was still your chest area and he was still rather awkward. « You should still… go back to the locker rooms to get it properly fixed… » he said, looking away. You giggled and went to Aizawa to tell him about your rip.

Hitoshi Shinsou

It had been a few weeks since Shinsou started training with the hero branch. You had had your eye on him since the sports festival -where he brainwashed you to be on his team- even before he became muscular and friendly.

So let’s say it was already quite awkward for you to have to train with your crush. But it became even worse when your team -including you, him, Kirishima and Ojiro- got chased by Bakugou’s and the blonde made an explosion so big its strength just made rips on your costume.

At the loud sound, Shinsou turned to see if everyone behind him was okay, when he noticed you. You weren’t hurt, but you had rips in your costume, making it look like you had borrowed Momo’s. The guys had theirs ripped too -if it was possible for Kiri’s to be worse- but he was focused on you.

He threw his scarf at you, so you just caught it, not knowing much what he wanted. Once you all stopped, he noticed you looked confused. « Aren’t you a bit cold ? » he asked, the tiny grin on his face hidden by his mask. Ojiro pointed out your rip and you gasped, hiding by just wearing the scarf.

« Thank you ! » you told the purple haired boy, your cheeks warmer than ever. « You should go to Aizawa to get that fixed. I mean- if you mind it. » he said. « I DO ! I do- yeah… » you tried to say, even more embarrassed than before. Your team left, Shinsou hiding his giggle at your reaction as you also walked away

[thehighladywrites]

- “if it is so wrong, why does it feel so good?”

pairing: stalker/perv!azriel x reader, nesta, elain and feyre mentioned

summary: stalking and perving is azriel’s favorite activities. What happens when you finally drop the oblivious mask and confront him

warnings: dark content, stalking, perving (on literally everyone), breaking and entering, stealing panties, az having a darker side, getting turned on by your fear, az eating you out, reader being bold and hot as fuck omg,

amara’s note: okay this is very short bc it’s my first time writing a dark fic. Also i hope you like it and pls read the warnings.

Azriel knows he is some sort of sick freak. He knows he should resist his sinful glances at Feyre when she's cozied up on Rhysand's lap. He flexes a little extra just to spark Nesta's desires, fully aware of her fantasies. And as for Elain, well, let's just say he's playing a forbidden game of spying while she bends over to plant her greens.

Azriel's is extremely aware he shouldn't be harboring forbidden desires or indulging in the secret pleasure of stalking someone as seemingly innocent as yourself.

Azriel, the ultimate mastermind, keeps everyone guessing. Who would suspect the quiet, brooding and publicly respected spymaster to be a closeted perv and sick stalker? It's his most guarded secret hidden beneath the intimidating exterior.

Little does Azriel know, you're fully aware of his perverse behavior—his wandering eyes and spying shadows. It surprises you that no one has figured him out yet; after all, it seems quite apparent, doesn't it?

You don’t miss his lurking shadows following you around for hours. A regular fae would’ve missed it but not you. You’ve grown accustomed to him and his ways. You know him better than anyone else and you definitely know of his stalker tendencies.

Azriel believes he's smooth, avoiding outright ogling. Instead, he strategically glances at you during training with Cassian and while sharpening his weapons, subtly appreciating the way your body moves.

Pervert azriel walks up to you, complimenting your form, claiming while it’s good there’s something you need to fix. You don’t mind if he needs to grab your waist while fixing your pose right? And of course you’ll excuse him if he accidentally brushes against your boobs and ass. I mean he just wants to help you perfect your form!

He watches you walking through Velaris from the shadows, always hiding one of his shadows with you. He tells himself that he does it for your safety. Who knows, you might be attacked and he needs to be ready.

He absolutely doesn’t want to hear how much of a hypocrite he is for also stalking you in the safety of your home aswell.

Azriel steals your panties, silently breaking into your room as he looks through your drawers, skimming through the collection of panties. He promises himself it’s the last time, though he’s made the same pledge seven times before.

Azriel's stalking tendencies lead him to roam through your belongings, touching everything to become familiar with your world. He goes to your vanity, picking up your perfumes, and indulges in the forbidden pleasure of smelling the one thing he desires most—you.

Lying in your bed, his head on your pillow, he starts shifting in the sheets, inhaling more of your scent. He revels in the trespass and wrongness of being in your bed, knowing that you might catch a hint of his own scent lingering there, a twisted thought crossing his mind that it could confuse, frighten, or even arouse you.

His cock swells at the thought of you scared, heart beating fast, trying to place who the scent belongs to.

He looks around and finds one of your shirts on the bed and picks it up to his nose.

Then he does the one thing he swore he would never stoop to. He pulls out his already hard cock and strokes it while inhaling your scent from the shirt.

—

He has timed you and learned your schedule hence why he now knows that you’ll be in the shower for the next twenty minutes, giving him the perfect opportunity for his perverse activities. He’ll pick up the laciest most intricate pair, keeping it in his room as some sort of trophy with the other stuff he has taken from you. No one can enter into his room anyways, it’s safe…

Pervert Azriel looks through the little crack in your door as you stand there posing infront of a mirror while wearing pretty much nothing. A lacy little lingerie set as you touch your body, hands traveling all over your tits, waist, ass then up through your hair as you spin around, admiring yourself.

You know Azriel is standing at your door, he isn’t really all that subtle with his hand down his pants as he jerks off at the sight of you.

It’s almost enough to make your eyes roll back into the back of your head, fucking gods, he’s pathetic.

You wanted to fuck him for the longest time. He could just ask you to fuck and you’d say yes yet here he is thinking he’s slick as he pervs on you. Even with all that in mind, there’s a sick, twisted adrenaline rush spreading through your body at the thought of the esteemed and highly respected spymaster doing something so dark and wrong like this.

“I know you're there, Az. Come out,” you say, a wicked smile forming on your face as you plot to utterly humiliate him.

His entire body freezes and Azriel cautiously emerges from the shadows, realizing he's been caught. You maintain that mischievous grin, ready to unleash your plan. The air thickens with anticipation as the confrontation unfolds.

“Az?”

He looks like he’s about to jump out of the nearest window as he looks at you through the mirror.

“Yes?”

“Why are you such a disgusting little pervert? Here I am trying on some clothes and you’re just perving on me. How do you think that makes me feel? I mean I could be super afraid and you wouldn’t have any remorse? Who does something like that?”

Azriel's face heats up at the mocking question, flushing as he tries to respond.

“Az, I asked you a question,” you assert, walking over to him. His embarrassment is palpable as he apologizes, rambling about not knowing what came over him, begging you not to tell anyone.

You already know the answer, and a knowing smile plays on your lips as he seeks forgiveness.

“You’ve done a very bad thing, Azriel. Bad people deserve to be punished. You of all people understand that, right?”

Pushing him back onto one of the sofas in your room, you creep closer, leaning over to whisper. Looking down at him, you place your hand on his cheek, letting your nails dig in a little.

“I think you deserved to be punished.”

Azriel's heart raced, fearing exposure for his hidden activities. Was this it? Would you punish him by revealing his actions to everyone?

Before he could plead for forgiveness, you stood up, walking back to your bed and beckoning him over with two fingers.

As he approached, ready to sit, you extended your leg, placing your foot on his stomach, halting him in his tracks..

“Not so fast,” you assert, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “The bed is reserved for me. You can kneel on the floor.”

Azriel complies, gracefully sinking to his knees. His gaze meets yours, his beautiful eyes revealing a mixture of submission and desire.

“You’re going to eat my pussy. If you manage to make me cum, I won’t tell anyone about your disgusting behavior, understand?”

He couldn't believe what was unfolding. Was he really about to taste you? About to experience the fantasy he'd daydreamed about every single day? He nods, but a disapproving tsk follows.

“I need more than a nod, Azriel. Do you understand?”

A quick, “Yes, I understand,” escapes his lips.

You can't help but smile at the swiftness of his compliance.

“That’s good. Now, I’ll be taking off my bra and panties and they’re very expensive and new so they better not go missing.”

Azriel affirms his understanding and then proceeds to drool over the way you slowly strip infront of him before you spread your legs and tell him to start.

He grabs your thighs and pulls you closer to the edge as he dips his head down to run his tounge up and down your slit, tasting you before playing with your clit.

You gasp in pleasure, letting out moans as your hands find their way to his hair, urging him to keep going.

Azriel’s hands dig into your thighs that are currently smushing his head. He decides to let you continue, telling himself that if he dies like this, he'd go down as the happiest person in history.

“T-that’s it, right there.”

A breathy moan escapes your lips as you feel two of his fingers enter you. Your hands grab his dark soft hair as he started pumping his fingers, relishing at the way your soaking cunt is squelching and squeezing him.

You whimper at the way his thick fingers strecth you out then curl against that secret spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You start to slowly fuck yourself on them, eager for more of him.

“You taste even better than I imagined, fuck.”

His desperate voice only spurred you on.

It doesn’t take much longer for that feeling to build up in your stomach, the tight cord eventually snapping. You squeeze and throb around his fingers as you cum hard, letting out whines and mumbles.

Azriel helps you ride out your high, memorizing every facial expression in case this is the last time you ever let him this close again.

He pulls out his fingers and lick them clean then goes back and licks your pussy clean.

You let out a giggle at the sight before you, casting him a look of fake sympathy as you pull yourself together.

“Well, look at that. Seems like I’ll be keeping your secret after all. I mean, what a shame to loose such a good little pussy eater, right? I might just keep you around.”

You beckon him to rise, tossing your underwear onto the sofa before heading to the bathroom to clean up.

Glancing back at his flushed face and heavy breathing, you offer a secret smile.

“Who knows, next time I might even let you fuck me.”

Turning around, you leave him to his thoughts as the shower starts.

Azriel stands there for a moment, his desire evident. Unable to resist, he takes your panties and bra, always craving something of yours.

He promises to himself that he won't do it for an eighth time before hurrying back to his room, to finally help himself

🏷️ taglist: @stasiereads @clairebear08 @daycourtofficial @historiaxvanserra @rowaelinsdaughter @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @redbleedingrose @danikamariewrites @readychilledwine @nocasdatsgay

[loveandmurders]

Could I request a hc where the slashers have an s/o who completely dotes on them? Like always patches up their injuries, fixes tears in their clothes, makes things for them, makes their favorite meals, serves them the first and biggest helping of food etc? (With Thomas, Bo and Vincent please)

Hello there, thank you so much for this request!

I hope you will enjoy it <3

EVERYTHING FOR MY BOY

Gender neutral reader with no physical description.

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of blood and pain, quick mentions of sexual activities, one or two strong languages.

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy had always been taught he needed to take care of his family and to fulfil their needs before his own. No matter the situation.

So it was quite something new for him when someone in his life started to do the same with him by prioritising his needs, desires and happiness. If it was his duty to take care of his family and you, it was also yours to make sure your big boy was doing good.

He was very embarrassed at first when you, his soulmate, started to look after him. He wasn’t too sure how to react or what to do about it.

Before you came into his life, it used to be Mama who was taking care of his injuries, but now you were there, you were the one dealing with it. And you took the situation very seriously because you hated to imagine him in pain.

Before you, even if he was hurt, he would keep doing his work and chores until the end of the day. His well being meant nothing to him.

With you, it was different.

You were caring with your gentle giant. You always forced him to sit down so you could have a look at his body and make sure he was doing alright. You also made sure he took painkillers.

You made sure to always be by his side, including to help him take care of his leather mask. Even though the man was good with his hands and was quite crafty, you were always ready in case he would need your opinion or your help. Your hands were smaller than his so it was easier for you to do more delicate things as well.

After his day of work, you also loved to massage him under the shower. At first, it was difficult for him to relax. He loved your touch on him but he wasn’t sure he deserved that kind of treatment.

Plus it felt wrong to have you doting on him: he was the one supposed to do so.

But you were determined and you threatened him a lot for him to let you do. You won because he hated even more to do something that would upset you. 

He had never slept so well in his whole existence. Your massages were the most divine of things for him. He still felt bad about it though, so he was more than eager to return the favour in any way you might like.

In a way you both had to fight with each other to be allowed to take care of one another.

Tommy didn’t want to be doted on, especially if it meant he couldn’t do the same with you right away. And you wanted to be there for him, and to force the man to think about himself first for once in his existence.

When Tommy hadn’t been around a lot because of work, you also liked to cook for him. You knew what your man loved the most, and you would do it for him. It also meant that he was going to be the first one you would serve at dinner and you would always make sure that he had the biggest portion.

If Hoyt said anything about that, you would quickly reply “Have you seen the size of this boy? He needs to eat”. It would slightly embarrass Tommy, but it would also warm his chest. 

Even if he would rather die than admit it, he loved to be taken care of. And he loved that you would try to make him happy. He had never felt that lucky in his whole life.

Once you would be alone in your shared bedroom, he would thank you for the food with tender gestures and kisses. He would be all over you like a giddy puppy and he wouldn’t stop loving on you until you would giggle at the nonstop attention.

Bo Sinclair

Bo was a conservative guy so in his happiest dreams, his soulmate would be doting around on him and would take care of him.

But Bo was also a man who had a lot of demons and who was pretty certain he didn’t deserve anyone to love him that much. Actually, he might find it suspicious if someone would be eager to take care of him, if it wasn’t his siblings.

When you appeared in his life, you did start to take care of him to not get killed. You were a tourist, and Bo was badly hurt. He gave you the choice to help him out and to not get killed, or to try and run away and to be hunted down and destroyed in the most painful way possible.

Of course, you chose to stay and help. 

But it felt quite natural to care for him, and Bo never had to get mad at you because you wouldn’t have been careful enough with him. Your gestures were always gentle and soft to him.

That was why he had wanted to keep you around. And you continued to dote on him, but because you started to truly enjoy him and this life.

You would cook for him and most importantly bake for him and his siblings (the boys had sweet teeth, you can’t convince me otherwise).

You always tried your best for him and his family.

As a family man, it was really important for him that you also treated Vincent and Lester with tenderness, but a different kind that you gave him of course (he was very jealous and possessive of you obviously)

He would love to see you coming into his garage with some drinks and cookies or something freshly made and baked. He would stop whatever he was doing to sit down with you on his lap, and enjoy the little feast you prepared for him. 

If tourists interrupted the moment, he would be very pissed and he would kill them the most quickly and yet rough way he could, before going back to you as if nothing had happened.

Because you were very doting on him and taking care of him in any ways possible, he was a lot gentler with you than he had ever been with anyone else.

You were special. Not even his Mama made sure he was alright and happy like you did. You would never hurt him, and in return he made sure to be good to you.

All your acts of services were noted in his mind, even the smallest ones. 

He didn’t always thank you, actually he very rarely did and he might be acting like an arrogant asshole. It was as if whatever you were doing was indeed natural and as if he deserved this and not any less.

But deep down, he was so grateful to have you around. He would forever keep you safe and you knew it.

Actually, he never thought of killing you. And he made sure you also knew it; he would really hate to have to hunt you down to bring you back home because he made you feel unsafe.

His way of thanking you was actually the way he treated you, especially in bed. He never forced anything on you, he never hurt you and he tried his best to always make you feel good about your body.

In his softest moment, he would even praise you and compliment you. His eyes were always showing you he was telling the truth.

He very rarely told you he loved you too but he never beat you and never yelled at you even when he was badly injured. You knew that pain was really making him a bad person, but he was always biting his lips to keep quiet. It was very different when it was Vincent taking care of him… But as said before, you were special.

Vincent Sinclair 

Because his Mama always reminded him that he had a face only a mother could love, Vincent strongly believed that he was also someone only a mother could dote on.

He was a violent and sadistic killer, after all. He didn’t see why he would deserve someone good in his life.

But you came one day, and you never left. Not that he would have allowed it anyways.

You took care of him to stay alive, and the man quickly started to be absolutely obsessed with you. He even started to keep you in the same room than him or it would drive him insane to not know where you were or what you were doing.

It meant that you started to help a lot with the wax statues. You would praise Vincent and give him the right tool, or give him your opinions if you thought something could be done better.

You also made sure he stayed hydrated and didn’t forget to eat. When he would allow you to, you would go into the kitchen to fix him something. He would always share the food you made with you, because he also wanted you to stay in good health conditions.

After some time, he even started to remind himself you both needed to eat and drink water. But he liked it better when you were the one gently whispering into his ear that it was time for a break. He enjoyed having you close to him, and he enjoyed having you taking care of him.

He couldn’t sleep without you. He often asked to sleep on your chest and to wait for him to rest before going to sleep yourself. He loved to be watched over. You were like a new mother to him.

But he loved you way more than he used to love his mother. Or at least in a very different way.

He used to be glued to his mother’s side, but he would also let her go if he was crafting. He couldn’t do that with you. His favourite way to sculpt was now with you on his lap.

For the two of you, your favourite way of doting over him was showering him.

Before you, he used to forget to take a shower, mostly because he was working until he was falling asleep on his work table.

Now, you would gently kiss his chest and neck, softly whispering to him that it was time to stop working for today. Bo never managed to make his twin stop working. But Vincent couldn’t resist you for one second.

You would guide him upstairs and into the bathroom. You would help him undress before he would watch you getting rid of your own clothes. He loved to watch you getting naked in front of him. And once in the shower or in the bath, you would start to wash his hair.

He would simply close his eyes and hug you as you took care of him. He loved the feel of your fingers gently scratching his scalp. And he loved how you would put conditioner on his long hair too. 

After his hair, you washed his body and face. You were always a little bit more tender when it was about his face.

He would lean into all your touches, completely relaxed and happy. He never felt insecure about his appearance when he was alone with you, and it only added to his obsession with you.

You were perfect, as if you came straight out from one of his fantasies.

He wasn't usually washing you. He preferred to look at you touching your own skin. But sometimes, his hands would be too itching to feel you and he would bring you all against him.

He would stroke your skin and start to play with you.

His favourite way to thank you for being so doting on him would be to kiss every inch of your skin and to pleasure you out of your mind… Not that you ever complained about it.

[thepenultimateword]

Your stuff is so good!! You should write a villain x weapon designer civilian snippet :0

Thank you, thank you, friend! Also, I’m loving the idea of that dynamic, so here you go!

CW: Weapons, unconsciousness, knockout gas

...

“Move and I’ll blow your head off.”

The ridges on the gun's metal barrel dug sharply into Civilian's hand, but they managed to keep their aim and voice steady as they pointed both at the villain in front of them. The criminal was currently backed up against the train doors, hands in the air, gas mask dangling nonchalantly off two fingers.

The villain raised their brow. "What are you some sort of hero?"

"No talking."

"I've never seen you before. I thought I'd met all of the agency's sentinals in white. Though you're not exactly dressed for the position. Maybe you're not--"

"I said no talking!" Civilian barked, taking a step forward and jerking the gun forward menacingly.

"Ok! Ok!" Villain said. They raised their hands higher. “Touch-y.”

On any other day, Civilian would have been like the other passengers, huddled up together in the far corners of the train or pressed back tight in their seats, as if they could disappear by mere force of will. But today, Civilian had been tasked with transporting their newest prototype to the agency for a demonstration. An electro-pulse gun that they’d tested on no less than five watermelons the night before. They were well acquainted with the damage it could do. They’d ripped the thing from its protective case without even thinking.

“I’ve already alerted the heroes to your location,” Civilian said. “So there’s no point in fighting anymore. Stay still until the next station and you’ll be arrested in one piece.”

“You alerted the heroes?” The villain raised both brows high. “How? I jammed the cell signals over the next twenty miles. Unless…” They grinned. “You have some other form of contact. You do work for the agency, don’t you?”

“Have you listened to a thing I've said? No more questions!"

“You’re the one who keeps chatting, darling. What? Nervous?”

Yes. And no. Their body was alight with adrenaline, every nerve a buzzing, quivering charge, and yet at the same time, they were surreally confident, gut numb and mind blank.

Villain pushed lightly off the doors with their elbows, taking a small, probing step forward. “Would you even really shoot?”

“You really want to try me?"

“You heroes make a lot of talk but not much action. What, don’t you have a code? 'Do no harm' or something like that? Besides, you're so cute." Another step forward. "I don't think you've ever been in a fight, let alone killed someone, so why don't you just--"

Civilian aimed the gun at the ceiling and squeezed the trigger. The energy projectile punched through the metal with ear-splitting BANG! The passengers shrieked. Villain knocked back against the doors with a thud.

The wind whistled loudly overhead as the air whooshed over the new gap in the roof, and after that shot, their ears might as well have been stuffed full of cotton, but even if they couldn't quite measure their own volume, they fixed the gun back on Villain's head and drove their point home.

“I’m really trying not to traumatize all these lovely people with the visual of your head exploding, and honestly, I’d really rather not kill you. But if you press me…if you doubt me, you’ll be dead faster than you can question me again.”

Villain gripped their mask abit tighter but their expression remained smooth and their posture loose. They whistled a long low note. “You’re something else, gunslinger. When this is all over, feel free to look me up anytime.”

“Fortunately, I don’t frequent prisons.”

“Me neither." Villain flashed a broader grin, full of white teeth and pocked with a dimple on one side. "Looks like we have something in common.”

The train screeched, the deceleration sending everyone lurching a bit to the right. In that exact moment, when Civilian's gun swayed a few centimeters off target, the villain's free hand shot to their belt.

"Hey!" Civilian shouted, stumbling a little as the train came to a complete stop. Villain tossed something small and round to the floor. Ping! Ping! It bounced twice, rolled a little into the aisle, and exploded in a cloud of cool fog. No not fog. Gas.

Civilian immediately turned their face into their shoulder, tipping the gun even further off target. The whole train car shrieked while Villain calmly pulled the gas mask over their head, obscuring the beginnings of an infuriating grin. Civilian opened their mouth to launch another threat but immediately choked on the sickly sweet gas. It raised around them so rapidly, they could barely see the nose of the weapon let alone, Villain. Not to mention...everything was getting sorta...slanty...

"S-sleepin'gas?" they slurred.

"I was never here to harm any of you." Villain's muffled voice seemed to come from all directions, echoey and distorted.

Civilian fell to one knee. Was it normal to feel like their head was buzzing?

"You made a really cute gunslinger, though. Like a western sheriff. Or an outlaw. Bet you'd be good in a holdup."

The train doors hissed as they opened. As some of the gas slipped free, they caught a glimpse of the Villain's shoulder as they darted out onto the platform.

The gun suddenly felt so heavy in their arms but they forced it up anyway. The barrel tipped to and fro, and their finger trembled on the trigger. They wanted to risk a blind shot, but there could be dozens of people standing outside on that platform. If they hit anyone else...

Their vision blurred, then blackened. They barely managed to set the gun down on the metal floor before passing out over top of it.

When they awoke, they were in the agency medical wing. They recognized it immediately by its obnoxious orange bedsheets and, well, Keith. Sort of hard to miss a giant, shining man in hero-white scrubs.

Civilian slowly pushed themselves upright. Their head throbbed with the movement, and they let out a rogue groan.

Keith turned away from the figure two beds down, covered from head to toe in bruises and now enveloped in their own cocoon of white luminescence.

"Civilian!" Keith beamed, light glimmering off his teeth. "You've regained consciousness! Any pain?"

Civilian rubbed the bridge of their nose. "Just my head... Was I hurt?"

"Not necessarily." Keith pressed both large hands to the sides of Civilian's skull. Civilian closed their eyes as they healer's glow wrapped around their head. Warmth trickled over their face and under their skin, ebbing the pain away little by little. "Just a very large dose of some sort of gaseous anesthesia. Luckily, there have been no long-term consequences so far. The ventilation created by the hole in the roof probably lessened some of the potency. Your handiwork?"

The events on the train rushed back all at once. They pulled out of Keith's grasp.

"Did we get them?" They looked rapidly around their bedside. "Where's my pulse gun?"

Keith stepped back and leaned against the empty bed beside Civilian's. "The gun is in weapons testing, I think."

"And the villain?"

"No. They escaped. We arrived just moments too late before they must have blended with the crowd.

Civlian threw themself back against their pillows with a heavy sigh. "Great."

"You still helped. You stopped Villain from completing whatever they originally planned and provided many citizens with immediate medical treatment by calling us in."

"Oh yeeeeah, I'm sure the whole team was just dazzled by my competence and quick-thinking. Especially when I couldn't hold Villain in place on anything but a moving train."

Keith frowned. "You don't need the title to be a hero."

"Thanks, Keith, that's really nice and heartfelt, and I'm sure you believe it, but seeing how you do have the title, and no one in power here thinks the same, it doesn't really mean that much to me."

Keith frowned but luckily didn't argue any further. Civilian knew they were being rude, but they really didn't need anyone else telling them that they were special the way they were. That they could do good their own way. That being a hero didn't even matter that much. It mattered a whole lot to them. And now they'd practically proven the entire agency right.

"What were they even doing on that train?"

"Robbery?" Keith shrugged. "Knock out the passengers and loot all their valuables."

"Alone?" Civilian traced the lines of the ceiling panels with their eyes. "They didn't even have a bag. How much could they have gathered if they planned on knocking out an entire train?"

"We don't know they were alone. They could have easily had accomplices posing as civilians throughout the train."

"True... Does the agency have a file on them? Tall, skinny, long black coat, annoyingly perfect eyebrows. Didn't show a power."

"I could look...but I'm not supposed to share that sort of info outside of other heroes..."

"Come on! What was that whole, 'you don't need a title' nonsense?"

"It wasn't nonsense! You are a hero! Just...not a legally sanctioned one."

Civilian sat back up and lowered their voice. "Come on, Keith. I'm not going to do anything; I'm just curious. You don't even have to give me the whole file. Just take a couple pictures of anything you think might also be on the news."

Keith grimaced.

"Please? I was so close today. So close to being what I always planned to be... Just let me chase that high a little longer. Then I'll go back to the weapons lab and never mention it again. Promise."

Keith inhaled a long breath, letting it out in a loud, irritated sigh. "Ok, fine. But don't bring it up to anyone. Ever. And I'm only giving you the first page."

Civilian's insides sank a little; they weren't sure what a first page of a villain file looked like, but they could assume it wasn't much. But they couldn't really be picky, so... "That's fine. Just the first page is perfect."

Keith looked like they had hoped that detail would deter them, but he continued on. "It might take awhile. I'm a hero, but I'm a healer, so no one is expecting me to march into the files room and request info on villains."

"That's ok, I can be patient. I work in weapons, remember? That's like the ultimate test in being patient."

Keith slid a hand over his face. "Ok. I'm also going to need more detail than 'annoyingly perfect eyebrows.'"

[amsgrey]

Price to Pay

Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Part Two to Useful Skills

I have spent forever trying to come up with a title so settle for this very bad one. I also can't tell if I hate this or not but the plot is so fucking bad.

synposis: Kaz learns what you mean when you say your power is your weakness.

warnings: not proofread or edited, mentions of stalking/following someone, Kaz being an asshole to others but not you bc cute, Injury and talk of Pain, reader passes out, kind of generally angsty crap for a minute and then fluff

There were pros and cons to being a crow and one of the big cons was stakeouts in the freezing cold.

Kaz had ordered you and Jesper to stake out one of his chosen targets, a lawyer who had a mistress in the Lid. Mostly it meant that you and Jesper had followed him from his cushy apartment in the financial sector to a gambling den and then to his mistresses. Keeping Jesper out of the gambling den had been the hardest, but now as you trailed behind him in the barrel's bustling streets, you were cursing the cold and damp Ketterdam weather.

You and Jesper were dressed in Komedie Brute costumes, Jesper had on Mister Crimsons' cape and mask, hiding his well-known face from those in the barrel. You were covered in the Scarab Queens dress, the shimmering green catching the lights of the barrel. Although the costume was meant to keep you hidden in the crowd of faces, you couldn't help but curse it for how cold it was. Jesper didn't look to be faring much better, his hands were tucked tightly in his pockets, trying to keep them warm. You had no pockets, having to rub your hands together occasionally.

Your wrist had healed more since the incident at Hellgate, but the cold brought out a phantom pain that you were sure would never quite go away.

"Look," Jesper stopped on the sidewalk, pulling you along with him to look up at a building. Like most of the other buildings in the barrel and the Lid, the house was leaning suspiciously into its neighbour. You could almost imagine how damp it would be on the inside, with wallpaper flaking and steps creaking dangerously.

You couldn't see exactly where Jesper was pointing, "What am I looking for?"

Jesper rolled his eyes, moving your chin to make you look at the window he had in his sight.

"Oh."

Standing in the light was the lawyer you had been tailing, he was without his hat and coat, smothering a woman in robes.

"Kaz was right," Jesper mumbled, leaning back on the wall while you both watched.

"Kaz is always right," You replied, joining him against the wall. You would have to wait for a while before asking questions. It would be too suspicious to walk straight in after him.

Jesper looked you up and down, "Aren't you cold?"

You fixed him with a glare, "What do you think, Fahey?"

The sharpshooter chuckled.

"Why in Saint's name did Kaz have to give me a disguise without a coat," you grumbled, crossing your arms so you could tuck your fingers against your side for more warmth.

Jesper gave you a smirk, you knew what he was going to say before he did, "Because you look gorgeous, love."

You huffed, "I'll look less gorgeous when I'm frozen solid."

You and Jesper stayed until the crowds thinned and the lawyer made his way home for the night. You had snuck into the foyer of the building and learnt the woman's name from the mail, pinching one of the envelopes to give to Kaz. After that, there was nothing more to learn. You and Jesper had made the trek back through the barrel to the Slat. Jesper wrapped his arm around your shoulders as you wandered past the pleasure houses and dens. At this time of the night, men were drunk with pleasure and wine, boldened in their crude behaviour. They would stumble out of brothels with sickly grins and harass any woman who dared to walk alone. You quietly thanked Jesper as he held you close.

Entering the Slat, you made your way through the Dregs to where the crows were sitting. You fell into a chair next to Nina, tossing the mask onto the table and stealing a piece of her food.

Jesper joined Wylan in the booth, secretly leaching his heat off him.

"Well?"

You pulled the envelope you had stolen from your dress, ignoring the surprised looks from the rest of the Crows.

"That's where you hid it?" Jesper said as he watched you hand it over to Kaz.

You shrugged, "I didn't have pockets."

Nina grinned, knowing the struggle herself, "I do it all the time."

Matthias tried to hide how he choked on his drink, coughing dramatically. His face was turning bright red as everyone stared at him.

Kaz ignored the Fjerdan, focusing on the paper in his hand. "Did you have any trouble?"

"No," Jesper answered for you.

"Although next time I would like a disguise with a coat," You added, "My hands have never been so cold."

Kaz glanced from the paper to you for the first time, silently taking in how you were flexing your freezing fingers. He nodded once, then disappeared towards the stairwell.

The next morning you were surprised to find the Bastard of the Barrel at your door. He held a brown paper package in one hand, leaning on his cane with the other.

He handed the package to you, "For the job tonight."

"Thank you," You replied, staring down at the package slightly confused. Kaz let out a quiet hum in acknowledgement, then turned and walked away, his cane clicking as he made his way down the stairs.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you closed the door and sat on your cot gently opening the paper. Neatly folded in the package was a pair of gloves, completely black like Kaz's. You were shocked, gently unfolding them to reveal the cuff's black embroidery.

Like your shadows.

You couldn't help the grin, slipping your fingers into the gloves and stretching your hands to feel how they reacted. They were almost perfectly fitted, just tight enough where they kept you warm but not so tight that you lost movement. You tried to keep the butterflies in you at bay; he brought me gloves.

Saints, if you couldn't keep your schoolgirl feelings at bay you'd be useless on the job.

When you climbed down the stairs to meet with the other crows, they all noticed your new gloves. It was impossible to hide anything from them.

Wylan grabbed your hand, looking at the small details, "These are new."

You rolled your eyes, pulling your hand back, "Can a girl not get new things?"

Wylan grinned, "Did you get them? Or were they a gift?"

"From a certain Mr Brekker?" Nina pressed, joining in on Wylans teasing.

"I have no idea what you idiots are talking about."

Kaz had decisively paired you with him on the upcoming job. You had frowned and asked if you were better suited to help Matthias and Nina lay the trap, but he had simply ignored the suggestion.

You tried not to be frustrated, Kaz hardly ever explained himself to anyone, why would he do so for you?

So you followed along with him willingly. He was dressed in his usual sharp clothing. The tidy waistcoat and dress pants with his usual black coat. He ordered you to dress similarly, like a wealthy woman. So you put on the nicest skirt you owned, borrowing a white blouse from Nina and pulling your coat over it all. You wore the gloves Kaz had given you, trying not to overthink about what was probably a harmless gesture.

You stood to Kaz's right, watching the shadows around the square as you waited patiently for the lawyer to fall into Kaz's well-laid trap.

Wylan and Jesper would be somewhere beyond the square, watching your back in case anything went wrong.

"Do you like the gloves?" Kaz broke the silence.

It took you off guard, "Oh, uh, yes." You flexed your hands, "Thank you."

Kaz nodded, "I had them made by a fabrikator so they would not hinder your summoning."

So that's where he had slinked off to last night.

You had to compose yourself, biting your tongue to ground yourself. Kaz Brekker was not some crushing boy giving you his favour through a gift, it was no doubt a strategic move as part of his plan. Then why did the butterflies in your stomach refuse to cease?

Get a hold of yourself.

You brushed down your skirt, pretending to be distracted by making yourself look presentable rather than looking at the boy next to you.

Another few minutes passed and the lawyer came stomping around the corner into the square. He was joined by two other men, no doubt enforcers he had paid to protect him.

"Mister Herling."

The lawyer looked torn between being afraid and irritated, "Brekker."

When you first found work in the Barrel, you were surprised that everyone seemed to know who Kaz Brekker was. After a week in the pub, you heard almost every rumour that the barrel had spun about the bastard of the barrel. The whispers that barmaids told, Dirtyhands doesn't need a reason.

Herling looked the two of you up and down, "Your muscle, Dirtyhands?"

You smiled sweetly, "Is that so hard to believe?"

The man on Herlings left chucked, his eyes lingered on your body. You shuffled your feet, trying to hold back your disgust at the man. You spared a glance at Kaz, who had noticed but chosen to ignore the man. Instead, he lifted his cane and flexed his fingers, like a silent challenge.

The lawyer waved his hand, "What business?"

"You work for Geels," Kaz stated, "I need to get a message to him."

Herling's face morphed from passive annoyance to one of outrage, "What makes you think I would do that for a barrel rat like you?"

Kaz lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug, "Everyone has a price."

"You think you can bribe me?" Herling cried, clearly insulted and angered by Kaz's comment. "Respectable men do not take bribes."

"Good thing there are no respectable men here."

You held back a laugh, this was not the time to appreciate Kaz's dry humour.

Herling let out a noise, halfway between a growl and a huff. "You are a special kind of messed up, boy."

Kaz didn't seem at all phased, he calmly explained what he meant by 'price'. The women you and Jesper had learnt about last night, proof that Herling was not a respectable man and had something to offer unless he wanted his wife to know.

"I don't know who that is," Herling hissed, but he couldn't hide his panic.

Kaz stretched his fingers that held his cane, the leather of his gloves flexing with his fingers.

"The thing about the Lid," Kaz spoke, "Is that no one cares if people disappear. This is Ketterdam, after all, space is valuable."

Herling put it together, he stepped forward and raised his fist, "If you lay a hand-"

Kaz smacked his hand away with his cane, Herling recoiled, stepping back and cradling his hand like a child.

"Stop making empty threats, Herling, and start making deals."

Kaz struck a deal with the man and you both waited for him and his men to leave before turning and walking out of the square. As you both exited under the arch, Wylan and Jesper fell into step beside you.

"You think he'll follow through?" Wylan asked, his hands clutching the straps on his satchel.

Kaz didn't have to explain himself, "Yes."

As the four of you picked your way through the streets back towards the slat, you started to become aware of something moving in the shadows. You were so focused on the movements, you didn't even realize Nina and Matthias had joined your group.

Finally, you couldn't stand the feeling of being watched anymore. You stopped, turning around to search the street for the two figures you knew were around.

"Y/N?" Nina asked, standing next to you.

The others stopped a few steps ahead, frowning at you.

"Someone's out there," You said quietly to Nina. The heartrender reached out, searching for heartbeats to verify your feeling.

She frowned, turning back to the others, "Y/N's right."

Kaz joined you both, looking out over the silent streets. Kaz didn't have to say anything, two men came slinking out of the shadows to face him.

They were the same two men the lawyer had at his side, but now their sleeves were rolled up, guns in hand. You realized they weren't just paid goons, they were black tips.

"You don't know when to back off, Brekker," One of them hissed.

Kaz looked indifferent, "I could say the same for your boss."

One of the men cocked his pistol, pointing it at Nina, "Move your hands and you die, witch."

Nina rolled her eyes, holding her hands up dramatically.

Two more men drew out of the shadows to join the other Black Tips. They too held up guns.

One of them held his gun trained on Jesper and for good reason. Jesper would be able to get you all out of this with a spin of his pistols, with a gun trained on him he couldn't help anyone.

"No getting out of this."

You spared a glance at Nina, who stared back at you with a silent response. Don't do it.

You knew you shouldn't, Kaz would be able to get you out of this. He was at your side, so you turned to him. He had his scheming face, trying to put together a plan.

"Stadwatch?" You whispered.

"Probably paid off," Kaz replied.

You looked back to the four men, who were arguing over who would get to drag Kaz to the boss.

"Y/N," Kaz saw straight through you, "Don't."

You didn't have a choice, Kaz knew that.

Without dwelling on it too much, you reached out. You could feel the shadows bending to your will, they pulled towards you, amassing around your feet and climbing towards your hands. You drew your hands up in a loose arc when your hands were almost touching, and the shadows formed a loose line. The four men looked up, shocked silent at the view in front of them.

You raised one of your hands, then threw it down in a fast slash. Your shadows formed into a shape blade, reaching out and cutting all four men down. Although not the first time using the cut, it felt the same. A rush of exhilarating power, like nothing could stand in your way. Then there was the crushing pain like your body was trying to repel your powers. The feeling was always there after summoning, but it was mostly bearable, a sharp pain behind your eyes or a dull ache between your shoulders. The cut always took the most out of you, your mother had called it unnatural, merzost. No Grisha was supposed to have such power.

You watched the men's bodies fall, split cleanly in two. Then the pain was too much, you fell to your knees, gasping for breath.

Nina and Wylan were at your side instantly, Nina quietly reminding you to breathe as she held your hand tightly. She was paying close attention to your heart rate, it was beating so fast she could only wait for you to pass out. She pulled you close when you lost consciousness, your body going limp on the damp cobblestones.

You were in and out of consciousness the whole walk back to the slat. Jesper and Matthias were holding you up, trying to make it look less suspicious than it would if they had you strawn over their shoulder. You could hardly keep your feet moving, Jesper and Matthias were mostly holding you up.

When you finally got back to the slat, Jesper dragged you to your room, a tiny sliver of space on the third floor. He lowered you to the bed, dropping you less than gently.

You were still consumed with pain, not sure of what was going on, "Thanks, babe." You muttered.

Jesper laughed, "You are very welcome, love."

Jesper left the room, letting Nina take his place at your side.

"Tell me what I can do to help," She pleaded, pained by seeing you in such a state.

"Nothing, Nina," You replied, letting out a sigh.

"Are you sure?" She tried again, gently brushing the hair off your feverish forehead.

"I'll be fine, Nina," You replied, "I just need to sleep it off."

Nina nodded, knowing she wouldn't be able to get much more from you. She stood and quietly left the room, passing Kaz in the hall.

Kaz lingered for a moment before stepping into the room. You could feel his presence, not bothering to open your eyes to see him.

"Boss."

When Kaz didn't reply you opened your eyes, looking at his face. He looked almost concerned, you wondered if you had imagined it in your state because as soon as you made eye contact the look was gone.

"You said that your abilities were your weakness," Kaz said after a long pause.

"And now you see why."

Another long pause.

Kaz nodded once, "Thank you."

You might have appreciated those words more if you hadn't been half asleep. Kaz never said thank you.

"Don't thank me," You said, "I need to be gone by this time tomorrow."

It didn't take a genius to see four bodies cut in half and know what it meant. Only one summoner could use the cut and by exposing yourself tonight you had no chance but to run.

"You don't have to," Kaz spoke so quietly you almost didn't hear him, "You could stay."

"If I stay," You replied, closing your eyes and covering your face with your arm, "I will be hunted, killed."

You could hear Kaz move, the click on his cane. He had stepped closer. "I won't let that happen."

The rational part of you knew that Kaz would be powerless to stop however came after you. But you were exhausted and slightly delirious, so the only thought that passed through your mind was, he wants to protect me.

"I guess I can stay," You drawled, finally losing the fight to unconsciousness.

The next morning when you woke up you were tucked under a blanket, your boots by the end of your bed and the gloves Kaz had given you folded neatly on the bedside table. You had the same butterflies, but this time it felt more real. You weren't imagining things, at least you had hoped you weren't. Surely that hadn't been some kind of terrible dream.

You needed to be sure, forcing your tired body to rise from the bed and slip on your shoes. You hesitated at the door, knowing climbing upstairs to Kaz's room in the attic would be gruelling. You forced yourself to do so anyway, taking the stairs slowly. When you reached the top, you felt lightheaded, your body betraying you after last night's show of power.

You knocked once on Kaz's door, entering after he allowed it. When you stepped in you had to reach for something to hold on to, your head swimming.

"You should be resting," Kaz spoke, watching you hold yourself up on the metal bedframe. He could see how pale you looked, your face was full of colour not long ago. He thought briefly about how he wished to see you back to yourself again. Then he was shutting that thought out of his mind.

"What you said last night-" You ignored Kaz's order, trying to stand a little taller and feign strength. Kaz could see through the cracks easily.

"Was the truth." Kaz stood, leaning on his cane as he got a little closer to you, worried that you might just keel over, "I won't let anyone hurt you."

Relief crashed over you, washing away some of the panic that had clouded your mind.

You and Kaz held each other's gaze for a while longer, content in the silent company of one another.

You knew you should rest, your body was screaming to sit or lie down. It would only follow your orders for so long. But you weren't sure you would make it down the stairs without falling, which would definitely make the pain in your head worse.

Kaz seemed to come to the same realization. He gently grabbed your arm, holding tight to your bicep to lead you to the side of his bed. He helped you sit, then returned to his spot at his desk. There was something unspoken, Kaz didn't have to tell you to stay because you could see the question in his eyes. You let out a small sigh, nodding and deciding to lie on Kaz's bed.

Kaz clearly didn't mind, his attention returning to his papers. You watched him work, taking in how his eyebrows furrowed as he read over reports and expenses. You hadn't realized until now that he wasn't wearing his gloves. His slender fingers flipped through the paper like a dealer would cards.

His hands are stained with blood.

What a ridiculous rumour to believe, you thought. Sitting at his desk before the morning light, he looked like any other businessman. An honest man with no worries about the harshness of this world. You didn't much care for honest men, because there were hardly any. You had done terrible things in your lifetime, last night had not been the first time you had killed and without a doubt, it would not be your last. You did not deserve an honest man. With the powers you held, no one could be fully trusted. You had known that your whole life.

But lying on Kaz's bed, watching him work, you were struck by something much scarier than starting to trust him. You were starting to feel safe.

taglist

@unicornfairytail @winstonthecow22 @mxtokko @lonelywitchv2 @kazbrekkers-gloves @intoanothermind @dontstopxx @beautifulbows924 @lu123sworld @slutforcoffein @u-wakatoshii @yujyujj @swhispererr @khaleesihavilliard @nyctophiliiiiaaa @thedelusionreaderbitch @adorawritesalot

[razzberriezz]

Fashion Dreamer Tips & Tricks

Some stuff only I found that isn't mentioned or in-game at all or is easily missed as far as I'm aware? I hope it helps some of you guys out :) It is quite image-heavy under the cut, fair warning!!

Colour Matching (Item Creator) Pressing down on the left stick changes the display from mannequin to the item itself, but pressing it again will show whatever item you're creating along with whatever your muse is currently wearing.

So if you've gotten a custom coloured item from someone else, this is great for making items and accessories to match with it! And you don't have to waste 120k points trying to match colours by guesstimation instead like me :'))) Or maybe I'm just dumb because I knew how to zoom in and out, just not the display switching OTL

2. Showroom Configuration (is stupid) This is for the Happy Home Paradise players... Make sure that any mannequins or clothing you display in your showroom is actually accessible, because you cannot walk under ceiling decorations, even if they are lighting. I have no idea why. You also can't change the camera angle, so it'd be best not to put the door/panel decorations all in a row at the front, because then players can't see what you're even displaying (unless it's just like a mannequin in the middle surrounded by lockers... Idk)

Taking the time to plug my showroom again before I swap out the outfits for the fancier stuff I have >o< Find me at a8xv4JW3Am!

3. Muse Advisors There are at least 2 or 3 advisors who are present at the Muse Mirror in each Cocoon in rotation. (e.g. Noz and Iris in HOPE) They can not only suggest colours and unique makeup that you haven't obtained yet* (I've seen a look where your character gets like a Batman/Robin mask lol), but also give you their own! If the one whose look you want isn't there, you just have to quick-travel (press down on the right stick) to another Cocoon and back. Otherwise, you can just keep talking to them and backing out until their option shows up.

Before & After (Iris ver.)!

(*Unfortunately, they won't give you unique eye shines/reflections.)

4. NPCs I've just learnt that the NPCs you start with are most likely random. I've seen others start with NPCs I haven't even seen or heard of! You need to raise their friendship level until you get a special event that says 'Friend Introduction' - and even then, I think the NPC who appears next might be random (unconfirmed). This may make it quite a pain for those who want the unnatural skin colours, since I believe they are only unlockable via NPC friendship rank... So just go into solo mode and spam some outfits :')

5. Camera Angles and Idle Poses This one is a bit useless, but I didn't know about it until now so it's going in. Most of the time, I use the drone camera to take photos, but could never really fit fullbody photos - turns out, you need to angle the camera slightly downwards (have your character looking up) to be able to zoom out enough to fit your Muse's whole body in. If the camera angle is level with your Muse, you will never be able to get a fullbody picture. Who thought this would be a good idea???

Level angle and tilted angle - the level angle is already at the lowest it could go.

Additionally, waiting for a while will let your character have the time to perform some idle animations, some of which (I think) are not present in the poses option, even via NPC friendship rank. The downside is that you'll have to crop out some parts of the UI and the quality will be a little lower - however, that can be fixed using waifu2x (which I tend to use anyways for aesthetic posts lol).

Before & After using waifu2x!

Since the game is so new I thought this might be helpful to some who are also just starting out. If anything here is wrong, please let me know and I'll fix it as soon as possible!

[javierssidechick]

From Ashes to Warmth

Anonymous request : Looove your fics! Craving a HEAVY angst to comfort fic w Arthur x F! gf!!

At your service ma'am 🫡

Word Count: 1,476 words

Summary: Arthur Morgan has always been a man haunted by the choices he's made. But when the weight of his regrets becomes unbearable, he pushes away the one person who loves him most—his girlfriend. In the aftermath of their fight, Arthur must decide if he can let go of his demons long enough to find comfort in her arms again.

Warnings: Heavy angst, self-loathing, brief description of violence, emotional hurt/comfort, mentions of death and guilt, soft language, comfort.

Arthur stared out into the wilderness, his jaw clenched as the wind swept through the camp. The fire crackled behind him, its warmth distant, like a memory he couldn't quite hold onto. It had been days since he'd spoken more than a few words to anyone, and even longer since he'd let himself relax. You were always near him, trying, hoping that maybe this time he'd let you in.

But Arthur was stubborn. Too stubborn, too proud, and far too weighed down by guilt. You could see it in his eyes, the way they never quite met yours anymore. He had been slipping away from you, inch by inch, word by word.

Tonight was no different.

"Arthur..." Your voice was soft as you approached, hesitant, the chill of the night biting through your clothes. "Talk to me. Please."

He didn't turn to look at you. His broad shoulders were tense, a wall between you and the pain he refused to share. His silence was as heavy as the air around you.

"Arthur," you tried again, stepping closer, feeling the heat of the fire on your back but nothing from him. "You can't keep doing this. Shutting me out, pretending like you're fine. I'm here. I want to help you."

"Don't need help." His voice was gravelly, strained, and for a moment, it sounded as though he was speaking to himself more than you. "Ain't nothing that can fix this."

Your heart twisted at his words. "You don't have to do it alone."

His jaw tightened, his eyes still fixed on the horizon, the dark woods stretching out like a prison. "You don't get it," he growled, finally turning to face you, his blue eyes shadowed with pain. "I ain't worth saving. Every time I try to do right, all I do is make it worse. People die because of me. Good people."

You took a step closer, reaching out, but he pulled back, the distance between you growing, not just physically, but emotionally.

"I'm no good for you," Arthur muttered, shaking his head. "Best you get away from me 'fore I drag you down too."

It felt like a punch to the gut. "Arthur," your voice cracked, but you held your ground, "you don’t get to decide that for me. You think I don’t know what kind of life you lead? What kind of man you are?"

"Yeah, well, you should." He stepped closer, anger and frustration flashing in his eyes. "You should run, 'cause one day I'll get you killed, just like everyone else."

"I’m not running." Your voice was firm now, standing your ground despite the pain swirling between you two. "I know who you are, Arthur Morgan. And I’m still here. I’m still standing right in front of you because I love you, despite your demons."

His lips parted, surprise flickering across his face, but it was quickly masked by the storm of guilt. "You shouldn’t." His voice cracked, softer now. "You shouldn’t love someone like me."

Tears welled in your eyes, and you fought to keep them at bay. "But I do."

There was a long, tense silence. The only sound between you was the crackling of the fire and the distant howl of the wind. Arthur's shoulders sagged, and for a moment, he looked as though he might collapse under the weight of his own self-loathing.

You closed the gap between you, gently taking his hand in yours. His rough fingers twitched in your grasp, but he didn’t pull away this time.

"You’re not perfect, Arthur," you whispered, squeezing his hand. "But no one is. You don’t have to be perfect to deserve love. I know you've done things you regret. I know the world weighs heavy on you. But you're more than your sins."

Arthur swallowed hard, his eyes dropping to the ground, his hand trembling slightly in yours. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t have anything to say. The fight drained out of him, replaced by something far more fragile.

He let out a shaky breath, the tension in his body slowly melting as you stepped even closer, resting your forehead against his chest. "Let me in," you whispered. "Let me be here for you."

He didn’t respond right away, his breathing uneven, but then his arms wrapped around you. Hesitant at first, but then tighter, as though he was afraid you might slip away. His chin rested atop your head, and you felt the roughness of his beard against your hair.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so damn sorry."

You shook your head against his chest. "You don't have to apologize. Just let me love you, Arthur."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Arthur Morgan let himself fall. Not into the endless abyss of regret, but into your arms, where the warmth of your embrace slowly began to thaw the ice that had long settled around his heart.

And for a brief moment, under the stars and the crackling fire, Arthur allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was worthy of the love you so freely gave.

[somber-sapphic]

Snowy Night

〖Notes: I've been up for too long, I know my formatting is bad, I'll do it in the morning &lt;;3〗

〖Summary: You and Wanda end up stuck in a hotel after a mission.〗

〖Word Count: 1133〗

〖Pairing: Wanda x Sick Reader〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Hanging in there?” Wanda asked gently, looking at you in the passenger's seat. You didn’t lift your head from the glass, relishing the reprieve from the fever-fueled heat ravaging your body. 

“I’m fine baby, just a little sore from the mission.” That was a reasonable excuse, you’d gotten pretty beat up and tomorrow you were sure to see a tapestry of bruises adorning your skin. 

Wanda had received a small cut above her forehead and roughly the same bruises that you did. She’d still volunteered to take the first driving shift as it was obvious that you were in rough shape. 

You’d done a pretty good job at hiding the illness before the mission, but now that it was over you were too tired to wear the appropriate mask. 

“Are you sure that's all it is? You’re fogging up the window over there.” She teased, tossing you a worried smile. You shrugged in response, your throat hurt too much for more talking. 

“How about I find a hotel for tonight?” The witch reached over and rested a hand on your thigh, squeezing it gently in reassurance. She only wanted to help, but you were refusing to let her. 

“We can’t Wan, we might be followed.” You knew that your words weren’t quite making enough sense, but she got the gist of what you meant. 

“We weren’t followed, you know that. You keep checking and there isn’t anything suspicious, right?” You turned from your comfortable spot on the window and raised an eyebrow, glaring at her a little. 

“That’s what I thought. Take a nap sweet girl, I’ll wake you up when we get there.” She said softly, her words lacking the frustration you expected. Tears welled up in your eyes and you dropped your head loudly against the window, relishing the pain it provided. Controlling your pain was good. 

“I know Y/n, but I need you not to do that. We’re going to get you in bed soon.” You didn’t want a hotel, you wanted your bed. You wanted your blanket and your pillows and the stuffed cat that you hid from everyone except Wanda. 

It was the only thing you had left from your childhood. It had helped you through an unnecessary amount of trauma and you refused to get rid of it no matter what happened. You’d had to sew up a few holes and the thing was faded beyond repair, but it was yours and you still loved it. 

“Close your eyes. Want me to turn the heat off?” She asked, noticing your fever-flushed cheeks. You were clearly too hot, but you shook your head, not wanting to bother her. It was freezing out and the snow was making the drive almost impossible. She had slowed down to a snail's pace, following the example of the other cars on the highway. 

“Talk to me, love. What’s going on in there?” 

“Just leave me alone Wanda. I’m fine.” You grumbled, turning your body away from her as much as you could. You didn’t want to make her unhappy, but you were tired and grouchy and you just wanted her to stop trying to fix it.

“Alright, just let me know when you’re ready.” She said warmly, her voice only filled with kindness. You hated how much you loved her. You hated how much she loved you. You didn’t feel good. 

Without much thought you found yourself closing your eyes, the lull of exhaustion washing over you. When you opened them again you found yourself being shaken awake by your concerned wife. 

“I’ve got us a room and this place isn’t creepy at all. The woman at the front desk is super sweet and she’s already got you some Advil and a thermometer.” Wanda was stroking your cheek with soft fingers, anxiety bright in her beautiful hazel-green orbs. 

“Not mad?” You mumbled, stifling a cough into a slightly raised fist. 

“Never. Come on angel,” She lifted you carefully out of the car, your boots crunching in the layer of snow. It took a few steps forward and you slipped on a patch of ice. You grabbed onto Wanda for support and she wrapped an arm around your waist to support you. 

When you entered the hotel covered in snow, the woman at the front desk gave you an apologetic smile. 

“Come on you two, I’ve got a nice room for you.” She said warmly. The woman was clearly a mother, she was completely willing to take care of an absolute stranger, no questions asked.

She led you to the large room, not seeming to mind that you were tracking snow everywhere. 

“Thank you so much, Annie, this means the world,” Wanda said, rubbing your arm gently to keep you awake. You were sort of falling asleep against her, blinking your eyes rapidly to make sure you didn’t pass out. You were still tired. 

“Of course sweetie, let me know if you need anything.” She smiled as Wanda closed the door, leaving the two of you alone in the warm room.

“Wanda…Wanda, I want to go home…” You whispered, allowing her to sit you down on the bed. She pulled your shirt off and replaced it with a dry one, doing the same thing with your pants. 

“Tony’s coming to get us, he should be here in the morning, okay?” She soothed, running her fingers through your hair. A sob caught in your throat and you blinked away tears, biting your lip hard to stop them from falling. 

“Oh angel, hey, hey come here. Oh Y/n/n, it’s all going to be okay.” Wanda pulled you into her arms, but you resisted, pushing against her chest. You didn’t deserve her love. You’d never deserved it. She was too good for you. You could never be good enough. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?” She asked, suddenly panicking. She touched your knee and you curled away, tears racing down your flushed cheeks. 

“Talk to me,” The woman pleaded, giving up on the physical affection piece. You didn’t want it and she didn’t want to make you more uncomfortable. 

“I yelled at you! Why don’t you hate me? Wanda I–why?” 

“Shh, shh no, no none of that. How could I hate you? You’re tired and sick and sad. You didn’t do anything wrong, not at all.” She crooned, going incredibly gentle. A miserable sob escaped your lips and you tucked your head into her shoulder, giving up. 

She pulled you into her lap, rubbing your back as you cried. 

“I've got you pretty girl. It’s all okay.” You felt yourself relaxing in her arms as she talked softly to you, not really hearing any of her words. She was holding you tight, the pressure of the hug making you feel just a tiny bit better. 

[icarusredwings]

Save a horse...

(SFW, Read the tags. 1/2

Promts: One's on purpose. The other is oblivious. Can you guess which is which?

"..I didn't know that was a gay bar.")

Pov, you're currently a drunk and slightly nervous Wade Wilson - Not Deadpool. Wade Wilson. You know, that guy who's so insecure about his entire body that he covered 100% of it and often times has multiple costumes/masks on because it's a metaphor for how he actually feels on the inside? Yeah. Him.

You are also currently sitting in a midwestern country bar with a shitty luke warm beer waiting for your 'Room mate' to say he's ready to come home. Watching how lit up he gets when around ranch hands and hard whiskey makes you tip your hat in fear you might actually look like there's pepperoni on your face from how red it's getting.

Slouching into your chair further, you start grumbling how the joke wasn't even that funny and that you could make a joke 10 times funnier, but you promised previously to behave yourself. Plus, you weren't doing so hot anyway. This was your 8th one as it was, and already you were watching his every move. How his canines sat when he smirked, how his arm hung over the back of his chair, how his boots crossed under the table, how he used the bottle in his hand as almost a speaking point, making geastures with it as he litsened, responding to their stories with his own. Right now the topic was about fixing fences and Horses escaping, riding horses, etc.

Honestly, he's heard worse. Ten year old girls talk more seriously about horses than these 4 rugged grown beareded men.. it seemed so boring..

Oh god. At this point, you're wondering why you even came. You clearly didn't fit in here, and these jeans did NOT do you any favors in the front. Was this why he was always so bitchy? Because his balls were getting strangled together by denim all the time?

It's not until you hear something in which you perk up. "Wade. Wade! Come're! Tell'em bout tha' there one time, will ya?"

Blinking, you wondered. Did you hear that, right? That beautiful draw and slur in his words calling for YOU of all people?

"Come on boy! We wont bite!" One of the men laughed. You could of sworn you just heard Logan chuckle and say "You better not.." in a tone that was... not firmiliar.

Slowly, You get up and stagger over only to be grabbed by the massive belt buckle and pulled close. His arm wrapping around your waist as he looked up at you with such shiney yet hammered eyes. "Tell'em!"

"Tell them what?"

"Bout the thing."

"Which thing?"

"Ya know the- Oh wait ya weren't there for that. Well shit, sorry...Oh! Wade, thi's Buck, Cletus and Mark. Have a seat."

For a moment, you blink as if he's gone mad. There were no seats left. Only 4 at one table. And as much as you'd love to just sit on his lap, there's no way he'd allow that. Not in front of these guys. Manly men didn't let other men sit on their laps in public. He's learned that the hard way.

"How much have you had, Wolfie?"

"Ah! Nevermin' that! Sit!" As if God himself awnsered your prayers he dragged you down into his lap, keeping you sat sideways and with an arm around you for no reason at all other then to claim dominance? Territory even? Just.. cause?

Either way, you find yourself a bit too shocked to speak, but let's be honest, that never lasts long. Trying to hide your face, You mutter;

"So...new friends of yours?" You ask the beast of a man who's locked his arm onto your hip.

"Cowfolk are usually quite... fond.. of one another." Buck says as if trying to tell you something, but you were far too knackered to get it the first go.

"We got a way of finding each other." Mark speaks up.

"Oh, do you now?" You ask, sounding intrigued.

It was now that you understood FULLY why he brought you to this bar specifically. Or was he even aware? No he couldn't be that dull- well...

Suddenly, you relaxed completely into his arms, wrapping an arm loosely around his neck, fitting into him like a puzzle piece. Like a wave of relief that you could infact show affection in here. It made you wonder if that was why Logan was so handsy or if he was just three sheets to the wind.

"Mmh. It's how we found ol' Logan here." Cletus made the mistake of saying and smiling at the muscly hairy man in a way Wade knew far too well.

Giving a quick, threatening glance, you take off your hat and put it on top of his head while staring them dead in the face. Howlett wasn't the only one who was territorial..

[inhuman-obey-me]

Congrats on 🎉4000🎉 followers, you honestly deserve it. I love reading all your work. Can I request 👻 + Belphegor, with MC involved?

Two requests for Belphie with this prompt, wow! Thank you both for your compliments and the request!!

"I'm the creature that haunts your mind." - Belphegor/MC

cw: references to Lesson 16

You weren't always scared of the dark.

The thought has been weighing heavily on Belphegor's mind recently. It comes to him again as he watches you startle backwards at the innocent sight of a door unexpectedly ajar.

You were bold, for a human. You got used to the Devildom's most unsettling quirks with surprising speed. You got mad at him the first time he lied to you, which he'd shrugged off. But you had never, ever been scared of him.

You should have been.

It's your own fault, he tries to tell himself. I warned you. I told you that it was your fault for believing me in the first place.

That's what he tries to tell himself, but he can't.

He catches you as you trip backwards -- "Shouldn't you know to watch your step around here by now?" he teases, trying to raise your spirits. You laugh back with embarrassment, masking the momentary freeze as clumsiness.

It's enough to fool his brothers. But Belphie always was the more perceptive one.

You weren't always scared of the dark -- but you are now, and it's his fault, and he knows it.

Night falls, and he can't sleep, and that's a real problem for the Avatar of Sloth. You aren't sleeping either, he's pretty sure -- he'd know if you were. But it's been weeks now, and each night, he doesn't feel you relax into sleep so much as he senses you succumbing to exhaustion. So when he comes knocking on your door, he's fairly confident you'll answer.

"Oh, hi Belphie," you say with forced cheerfulness as you open up. "Is something the matter? It's late, it's not like you to be up still."

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd come see if you were still awake. Although, I guess you should have been sleeping too, shouldn't you?" He gives you an equally forced smile, though he makes his look quite a bit more natural. Well, he's a practiced liar, after all, isn't he? You should know that well enough now.

"Oh, I-I um, I guess so. Yeah, I probably should be, huh? But I just felt like staying up tonight. You know, like...I was reading a scary story before bed, and now I'm too scared to go to sleep. That's what I get, I guess!" you laugh, sweeping away the truth behind evasive sheepishness again.

No, it's my fault. I'm the creature that haunts your mind, his mind screams at him. But he can't say that out loud to you, not when you're trying to keep up such a brave face. What can he say, though? What can he possibly say to make it better? As much as he wishes he could, he can't take it back. He can't fix this. There's only one thing he can say, and it won't fix anything for you.

Still, he should say it anyway, right?

"I'm sorry."

He squeezes you in a hug, not too tight but firm enough to reassure him that you're there -- that you're warm and solid, and that the biggest mistake of his life really hadn't cost you yours. He had grown to like you during those months he'd been shut up in the attic, honestly he really had! But he'd been so blinded by rage and grief that he killed you!

But he doesn't say any of this, so you just blink at him in confusion from within his embrace, softly patting his back in a daze. "Um...you don't need to be sorry that I read something scary, you know...?"

"Not for that. I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'm sorry that you're scared now. I'm sorry that sorry doesn't make it go away. I'm sorry that I'm the reason you can't sleep anymore. I'm just so, so sorry."

You laugh softly against his ear, partly out of surprise but sweet as syrup all the same, and you squeeze him gently back and give him a light peck on the cheek. "I know. That's the reason you can't sleep either, right? It's okay, we can fall asleep together. I think I'll be able to if you're next to me. I love you. I forgive you."

[ghcstao3]

for @snootlestheangel — body swap

-

For a trained sniper, demolitions expert, and SAS soldier, it takes an embarrassingly long time for Soap to notice that something is wrong.

He climbs out of an empty bed (as per usual), drags his feet to the common room for some shitty coffee (again, as per usual), sits down, bleary-eyed, rethinks his decisions until he finally fully wakes up (as per usual!).

It’s not until Gaz wanders in and does a double-take upon seeing him that Soap begins to suspect… something.

The pinch in the other sergeant’s brow has Soap shifting nervously in his seat.

“You feelin’ alright, mate?” Gaz asks. He keeps his voice steady enough to hide whatever else he’s thinking.

But even still, Soap relaxes. He just grunts and returns to staring at his coffee, accepting Gaz’s question as a way of pointing out just how awful Soap is looking this morning in particular.

“…Right,” Gaz says slowly. Soap peers back up at him. “And what about the…?” He gestures vaguely to his own face.

Soap frowns. “What d’ye—“

Soap snaps his mouth shut. That’s not his voice.

Keeping his lips firmly sealed as he stands and swipes his styrofoam cup off the table, Soap (Soap?) leaves the room in a hurry. He doesn’t stop even when Gaz calls after him, not pausing until he’s safely locked behind the door of his room.

Ghost—at least, Soap presumes, hopes, prays it’s Ghost in Soap’s body—is already waiting for him.

“Took you long enough,” Ghost remarks. It’s too odd, hearing his intonation from the wrong accent, the wrong voice, the wrong body.

“Well, so-rry.” Soap folds his—Ghost’s—arms across his chest. “You happen to know something, then?”

Ghost scowls. Soap takes that as a very clear no.

Soap sighs. “Then let’s figure it out together, aye?”

Ghost offers a reluctant nod. Soap supposes that’s good enough.

*

They mull over just about every possibility they can think of, between avoiding the unnecessary responsibilities, public spaces, and sneaking back to Ghost’s room to get a spare mask. They pore over recent missions, things that may have been said, done. But no pieces connect enough to create a reasonable enough picture.

The day ends, frustratingly, without answers. And with nothing else to try or think up, they resign to gradually falling asleep in Soap’s room, tangled together as was still normal enough.

Except for the fact that Soap is hardly used to being the little spoon. But alas.

A thought springs into Soap’s mind( before sleep is able to grab ahold of him.

“Ghost?”

A quite hum into the fabric of Soap’s shirt.

“I just… I wanted t’say something, before we find out whether this whole thing is permanent or not.”

“What’s’it?” Ghost mumbles.

Soap squeezes his eyes shut. Takes a deep breathe, reassured by the weight of an arm around him, even if it is technically his own.

“The thing we have—had? Have, between us,” Soap starts. “The sleeping together, whatever else. I never… I never wanted that to only be casual.”

There’s a long pause. Distantly, Soap’s ears ring, and when Ghost swallows it seems far too loud in the dark and quiet.

Then, in a mere whisper Ghost admits, “I never did either.”

That confession weighs heavy. But it’s a good presence, otherwise underlined by their current issue.

Soap nods to himself. “Awrite. Well, when we get this fixed—when, not if, because fuck if I’m gonna be stuck with your mug the rest of my life—what d’ye say we try something… real.”

Ghost’s breath is almost silent, the hitch in his throat nearly undetectable. He pulls Soap closer.

“I’d like that,” he says. “When.”

“When,” Soap agrees.

They fall asleep.

*

Soap wakes the next morning with his arms wrapped around a solid presence, bed warm and full. He breathes in Ghost’s scent, runs his fingers through blond curls.

“When,” Soap murmurs to himself. His own voice.

What a fuckin’ day.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 19

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: None

Ta-ta For Now

"No. I don't think I will." Your steely glare met his fiery one as you walked up to the bars and leaned on them.

Kid stalked up to tower over you from the other side. "And why not?!"

"What's keeping you from killing me once I fix it? You already wanted to once." 

Kid's eyes flicked away from yours and his voice was low, "I wasn't gonna drop ya." His amber eyes went back to you. "I just wanted ta scare ya. Get some answers." He paused to think. "After that, yeah, I wanted ta kill ya. But I didn't!" His eyes moved away from yours again. "Killer wouldn't let me," he mumbled, somewhat begrudgingly.

"I think you should know by now that I'm not afraid of you or of dying." 

"If yer not afraid then why won't ya fix my fucken hand!?" Kid's metal hand grabbed one of the bars and you could hear metal creaking.

The sudden movement provoked Mini. You held your hand out to stop Mini from trying to headbutt the bars to get at Kid. "There's a difference between not being afraid of dying and wanting to live." You gestured towards your wanted poster that was left behind. "There are still things I need to do." Kid glanced at it and then eyed your coat with interest, now noticing it. 

"Where'd ya get that?" 

"I've had it this entire time. Your crew is just incompetent when it comes to prisoners, "guests", whatever." As further proof you took out the gunblade you made from your shackles and touched the tip over where his heart would be, never breaking eye contact. You knew it wouldn't do anything against him. You just liked to bait him.

Kid growled, lashing out with his flesh hand to grab you by the throat, his favorite pastime. "WHY YA-" His hand folded against you instead in a sort of limp-wristed punch. This enraged him more. 

You stepped back and holstered your weapon, cackling and watching his face go red.

"I'M REALLY GONNA KILL YA NOW, YOU ROTTEN WHORE!" The bar under the grip of his metal hand shattered. "DON'T YA DARE INSULT MY CREW."

You slid down the wall until you made a soft plop onto the floor, tilting your head back against the damp wood. "You seem tense. Why don't you go jerk off or something?" You cracked an eye open. "Oh sorry. I forgot. You'd probably rip it clean off if you used the metal one." That made you snicker.

The metal of the bars groaned as he pried them wider, no devil fruit, just strength. "YER DAMN LUCKY IF I DON'T MAKE YA DO IT YERSELF," Kid spat.

This time you didn't make a move to stop her when Mini rammed the bars right in front of Kid. And you were tickled quite pink when he jumped back. She bristled at him, looking even bigger than she normally was. 

Kid stormed out, punching a hole in a crate as he left and screaming for Killer.

______________________________________________________________

"I really wish you wouldn't rile him up like that," Killer sighed. "Makes it real hard to convince him not to murder you."

"Didn't ask for you to stop him." Your arms were folded across your chest. They had left you alone with Wire for a while before Killer came back, and with dinner. You were tossing pieces of food into Mini's mouth. 

If Killer could look exasperated behind the mask, he probably did. "I'm not doing it for your sake. I want my Captain to have his other hand back." Killer nudged his foot in the direction of your plate. "You need to eat." 

That brought a scowl to your face. Why does he, of all people, get such a loyal crew? He was the worst of the Worst Generation. All you wanted to do was dispense well-deserved justice, and you got a crew full of mutineers. "How sweet of you," you replied dully. In reply to his other comment, you shoved your plate in front of Mini, who promptly licked it clean. "I'll eat when I'm on land." It shouldn't be too much longer before you made landfall. 

Killer was dissatisfied with that answer. 

"You put my feet on land, my weapon in my hand, and I will restore Kid." It was much better to reason with Killer than Kid. You were going to say the same thing to Kid's face, but got caught up in arguing with him. 

Again, he made an almost imperceivable nod. "No promises." He sighed. "But... I'll try to persuade him."

"Do it and you'll never see me again." That would be the best for all parties. 

There was a not uncomfortable silence that went on until, surprisingly, Killer was the one to break it. "So... who will you go after first?" Killer pointed to the log pose in place of your eye.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh. You figured it out, did you?" You smirked. If there was one thing you could appreciate, it was that the Kid Pirates were a lot smarter than their reputation suggested. Not much got past Killer. You were loathe to admit it, but the tweaks Kid made to your gunblade were actually remarkable. Reaching up to remove your eye, you looked at the needles. "Curiously, one of the dials has been pointing in the direction we're heading for some time. I bet anything there's a Marine base there." You looked up at Killer for confirmation. He nodded. "Then your girl might get lucky." 

______________________________________________________________

Two days went by. Killer had gotten Kid to agree with your plan. You knew he wasn't going to let you off easily, so you were ready to take off the second you fixed him. You sat atop Mini's back with your real weapon in your holster, your coat flapping in the wind. You looked a little rough still, but it wasn't anything unfamiliar. The deck was busting, the crew excited to be on land again after three weeks at sea. Your eye caught Quincy's and you gave a tight smile to her and the other girls. You would miss them. You thought you would miss Heat and Killer too. They had been good company in the brig. The ship had pulled around to the side of the island opposite the Marine base. It was forested and populated with the type of people that wanted to be the farthest away from Marines. 

You held Kid's hand with one of your own. Dropping it like you were touching a hot pan when you were done healing him. You waited to watch him flex it, making sure it was right. The second that happened, Minerva took off. The boar was more agile than you would expect for a broad, stubby-legged creature. The boarding plank had yet to be dropped. That wasn't an issue for her. Jumping off the deck and to the ground below was nothing to the boar, though slightly jarring to your still-healing bones. You looked back up to see a tuft of red hair poking over the railing. Bringing a hand to your mouth, you blew him a kiss, turning you hand into a middle finger as you did so. There was a string of curses shouted after you as the sound of pounding hooves took you further and further from the ship, your coat billowing out behind you. You were on a mission now.

Next

[clown-friend-gt]

Up, Up, and Away Chapter 20

Sorry for the late update this week. It will happen again.

Edit because I forgot to add that this is part of the updated version of Mentorship Blues

Link to Masterpost

************************************************************************

Evaluation

3.3k words

From the periphery of his vision, Sam Douglas counted at least a dozen gazes fixed on him. Some of awe, some even of admiration, and quite a few of hostility. But like always, he simply kept his head level, and his eyes set straight ahead. It was a strategy for keeping himself humble he’d learned early on in his career, and it hadn’t failed him yet.

This sort of thing was bound to happen whenever he went out dressed as his hero persona, Ajax. But it was for a good cause. He hoped. He’d been invited to this prison by some people close to him to participate in a mentorship program.

Not a prison, he reminded himself. Youth detention center.

As he got closer to his destination, he found himself surrounded by fewer and fewer people. Once he was practically alone, he took a deep breath to steady himself, allowing his mask of confidence to drop temporarily.

Was he really the right person for this? From what he’d been told, his judgement of the kid he was meeting today would be a deciding factor as to whether or not he qualified for the Future Heroes Training Program. It was practically a parole hearing, and he was to be the judge.

Maybe he would be a qualified mentor for the kid, since they had similar enough powers. But did that qualify him to make calls about his future? Sam really wasn’t sure.

He shook himself a little to regain his focus. He couldn’t spend all his time worrying about that, or he’d never get this over with. He let the self-assured mask of “Ajax” slip back over his features.

A few more turns through the wide and winding hallways and he was at his destination. A set of double doors was all that stood between him and his arena of choice for the day. Really though, it was just the facility’s cafeteria. Technicalities.

He centered himself with a deep breath and gave both doors a gentle push. Despite the lack of effort on his part, the doors flung open. It had been decades since he developed his powers of super strength, but sometimes the world around him still felt far too flimsy.

At least he rarely broke things nowadays.

“Have no fear,” he declared in a booming voice. “Ajax is here!”

He grinned widely at the room as the doors swung shut behind him, hands placed heroically on his hips. He got no response, save for a few vacant stares from around the room. The silence that followed felt like it lasted way too long.

Slowly, people got back to what they were doing. Guards worked to clear space, pushing all of the tables and chairs to the sides of the room. A few floated around one man in the center of the room, waiting for further direction from him. This man’s stare had felt the hardest when Sam entered the room.

Unbothered, Sam made his way over to him. He stuck out his hand to shake the warden’s. The warden gave it a brief glance before taking it. His grip felt firm, but cautious.

“Nice to see you again, Al,” Sam greeted his brother.

The warden, Albert Douglas, let go of his hand. His lips pressed into a thin line.

“Hello, Ajax,” he responded, his tone much less familiar. “I see you haven’t lost your—”

Al paused, giving him a disapproving look.

“—dramatic flair,” he finished dryly.

Sam kept his face neutral, trying not to show his discomfort at his older brother’s cold demeanor. He’d thought they’d grown beyond the contentious relationship they’d had as kids. But sometimes, Al still kept him at arm’s length.

He supposed he couldn’t really blame him, though. They were not meeting here today as brothers, but as two high level members of the Lively Institute. Even though they represented two different sides of the Enforcement division, they still had to maintain appearances.

That’s probably what Al was thinking, at least. Sam didn’t really give a damn if some random prison guard thought he was being “unprofessional.”

Al turned back to the guards hovering around him. “What are you still waiting around for? If you’ve finished up here, go back to your posts.”

A small chorus of yes sir resounded from the remaining guards as they filtered off and out of the room. Sam was quickly left alone with his brother.

Albert’s features were incredibly similar to his own, though there were some superficial differences between them. There were more lines on his tanned face, but that likely had more to do with the stress of his job than the two years he had on Sam. They shared the same icy blue eyes, but Albert’s gaze was colder than his own. His cropped gray hair held few traces of the dark black color it’d once had. Sam wondered if his own hair would look the same, once the stray white hairs that kept cropping up on his head took over completely.

If you were to stand Sam and his brother side by side, you wouldn’t be able to tell from his height that he was the younger of the two. Though they were both fairly tall, he had a few inches on his brother. His broad, muscular frame only exacerbated the difference between him and Al.

Al cleared his throat, pulling Sam from his thoughts. “How much have you been briefed about Castillo?”

Sam shrugged. “Just the basics. Name: Trevor Castillo. Age: 14. Height: freakishly tall. Normal stuff, really.”

“You need to take this seriously, Sam” Al scolded him, dropping his voice to a whisper. “You’re dealing with a violent criminal, here.”

Sam smirked. “Same old, then.”

“I’m trying to warn you, Castillo is unstable,” his brother asserted, his voice low. “He injured another inmate within his first week of arrival. His victim’s wrist was completely shattered.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Sam whispered back. “Shouldn’t I try to be unbiased about this?”

“I’m only trying to look out for you,” Al insisted. “You need to be careful here.”

Sam puffed out his chest a little. “When am I not?”

Al gave him a dry look. “Do you want me to answer that honestly?”

Sam had to laugh at that. “Alright, fine. I’ll keep it in mind.”

The sound of the cafeteria door opening again put a halt to their conversation. Both Sam and his brother turned to see the new arrival. When he saw who it was, he greeted her with a warm smile.

Miranda Todd was a close family friend to both of them. But to Sam, she was more than that, almost like a cousin, or even a sister, albeit a much, much younger one. She was nearly a decade his junior.

She returned his smile politely as she approached the two of them, but Sam could sense the nervousness behind it. She had a lot riding on the outcome of this meeting. Which meant, of course, she had a lot riding on his evaluation of her client.

He knew Miranda was deeply passionate about her work, and this case was no exception. He’d seen the fire in her eyes when she’d first discussed her new client with him when they met up for drinks. She felt the system had wronged him, but if she could get him into the Heroes Program, she could make things right.

Sam wasn’t sure how much he bought into that. But when it came to people’s character, Miranda’s judgement was rarely wrong. If she had faith in this kid, then he at least had to give him a chance to prove himself.

Before Sam could say anything to her, she spoke up, only addressing the warden.

“Are we almost ready to begin?”

Sam frowned a little. She was almost ignoring him. After a moment, though, he remembered that he was in uniform. He was not her friend Sam right now, but the famous superhero, Ajax.

And she and Ajax have nothing to do with each other, he reminded himself, just a tad bitter about the whole idea.

That was the problem with this whole hero business. Everyone wanted to put him on some kind of pedestal (everyone who didn’t want him dead, that is). He could ignore it when strangers did it, but his own friends and family? He’d never found a good way to deal with it.

“Just about,” Al responded to Miranda’s question. Then he clapped his hands twice, bringing everyone’s attention to him.

“Beckham, O’Brian, you’re with me,” he said, gesturing to two of the guards as he spoke. Then to everyone else, “The rest of you, get back to work.”

He clapped his hands together again, and the sound echoed throughout the room. “Move out!” he ordered.

Quickly and efficiently, his guards filed out of the room. Looking out of place amongst them all, Miranda followed soon after. She spared him one last anxious look before she left. The warden lingered behind just a minute longer.

“We’ll be watching from Security. If anything happens, I’ll send reinforcements your way,” his brother assured him.

Sam wanted so badly to roll his eyes, but he resisted the urge. He was probably the most capable person in the world to handle this situation, and still Albert treated him like he was a kid in need of protection.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” he replied, not bothering to hide the agitation in his voice.

Al ignored his brother’s insolent tone, giving him a curt nod. Then he walked out of the room, leaving Sam all alone until his new student arrived.

************************************************************************

Trevor could hardly remember the last time he’d been this nervous. When was the last time he’d had to do anything this important? As far as he knew, his whole future rested on how he presented himself to his would-be mentor, Ajax.

Ajax. He couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around how insane all of this was. Not only was he meeting the most famous—and probably most important—man in San Solaris, but he had to impress him somehow. His life practically depended on it.

His heart hammered in his chest and his back ached in protest as he shuffled his way towards the cafeteria. He had to bend over to fit in the hallways now. When he first arrived, he’d actually been relieved to find out that the ceilings were high enough for him to stand at his full height. He should’ve known that it wouldn’t last.

Finally, he rounded the last corner, and the double doors to the cafeteria stood at the end of the hall. But when he got about halfway there, he couldn’t bring himself to get any closer. His legs refused to budge.

Pull it together, Castillo, he berated himself. He’d been working for months to make this happen. This was the last hurdle he had to clear before he could join the FHTP. He couldn’t turn back now just because he was feeling a little intimidated. He did his best to shove all of his feelings of anxiety deep down inside.

He took a reluctant step forward. Then another. He trudged, painfully slow, to the doors. He did his best to wipe the sweat from his palms, then gingerly pushed the doors open. He focused all of his attention on making his way through the doors, so he didn’t have to think about who was waiting for him behind them.

Once he’d crawled through, he stood up straight and stretched out, trying to relieve his sore back. He silently thanked whoever’d designed the cafeteria with such high ceilings. Then he remembered what he’d come here for and immediately snapped back to attention.

Ajax stood in the middle of the room. He wore the same iconic suit that Trevor had seen countless times on TV and the internet. The base was a short-sleeved black bodysuit with blue stripes running up either side. On his elbows, knuckles, and knees, he wore dark blue armor-like pads. On his hands he wore fingerless gloves. A black domino mask covered his face and completed the look.

For a moment, Ajax also seemed too stunned to speak. His eyes were wide as they travelled the length of his body up to his face. His rigid posture mirrored Trevor’s own. They both stood frozen for just a few seconds.

Ajax recovered before he did. He shook his head and relaxed his shoulders. The surprised look on his face didn’t quite disappear, though.

“Man,” he chuckled. “You are tall.”

“Uh…?” Trevor responded, bewildered.

“I mean, they told me you were twenty feet tall, but I don’t think I got the full picture until just now.”

Ajax smiled at him and gestured for him to come closer. “Come on in, I promise I won’t bite.”

Hesitantly, Trevor walked closer. Once he was close enough, Ajax extended his hand up for him to shake and grinned wider. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“The name’s Ajax,” he declared.

For a moment, Trevor only stared at his hand. Ajax barely stood above his knee; how was he expecting this to work? He looked back to Ajax’s face, questioning him silently. He only cleared his throat and glanced pointedly at his extended hand.

Sighing internally, Trevor crouched down so he could reach it. He clasped Ajax’s hand, and it disappeared entirely within his own. He became painfully aware of how sweaty his palms were as he delicately shook Ajax’s hand.

“Trevor,” he introduced himself, before quickly letting it go.

Ajax nodded, his lips pressed into a thin smile. “Good to meet you.”

Trevor stood back up and took a few steps back. He thought he saw Ajax try to discreetly wipe his hand on his leg as he did so. But then Ajax clasped his hands behind his back and began circling around him. He looked him up and down, like he was examining him in detail.

Again Trevor froze under Ajax’s scrutiny. Unconsciously, he went rigid and straightened himself out as best he could. From this angle, he couldn’t read the look on his face.

“What to do, what to do,” he heard Ajax mutter. Then he stopped, apparently in thought.

“Could work,” he said under his breath, before looking to the door to the cafeteria.

“Wait here,” he told Trevor.

Ajax walked over to one of the long tables that lay against the wall. He picked it up easily, though it was longer than he was tall. He carried it over to the set of doors and placed it in front of them.

“What are you doing that for?” Trevor asked uneasily.

“Just a precaution,” Ajax answered him, though he didn’t clarify what that meant.

“Okay, let’s get started,” Ajax announced. He waved Trevor over to the middle of the room. There he stood and opened his arms wide.

“Let’s see what you can do,” he said.

“Huh?”

“I want you to hit me as hard as you can,” Ajax instructed him.

Trevor tensed. He should’ve expected something like this to happen, but he still hated the thought of it.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked.

Ajax grinned at him. This time, it felt more genuine. “Come on. I can take it.”

“There’s got to be something else we can do,” he pleaded.

“Nope. This is the only way,” Ajax replied with a shake of his head.

“If you say so…” Trevor replied wearily.

He lowered himself down closer to Ajax’s level and reluctantly balled his hands into fists. As he drew his hand back to strike, he gave him one last uncertain look, silently begging him to reconsider. Ajax stubbornly stayed put.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Trevor swung his fist with all his might. He felt it connect only briefly. Then he heard a loud SMACK from the other end of the room.

Opening his eyes again, the first thing he saw was a crack in the concrete wall that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Then his eyes travelled down and landed on Ajax. He was lying facedown on the ground, motionless.

Sam had taken a few beatings in his time. Still, he struggled to remember the last time he had been walloped like that. That one punch had sent him flying across the room. Maybe Al had been right to warn him about this kid. Or maybe he was just getting old.

He propped himself up with a groan. He was still regaining his bearings after the blow. Slowly, he got to his knees and prepared to stand. Before he could though, he felt the ground rattling beneath him, and he had to fight to keep from falling on his face again.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” he heard Trevor cry out.

When the shaking stopped, he looked up to see Trevor kneeling over him. Sam almost laughed out loud at the panicked look on his face. Once again, Miranda had made the correct call; this kid was a total softy.

“Man, kid, you really pack a punch!” he said with a weak laugh.

“I’m sorry,” Trevor murmured sheepishly, extending a hand to help him up.

Sam took it gratefully. “Don’t be. You did good.”

He got to his feet and brushed himself off. As usual, with a bit of time to recover, it was like he’d never been hit at all. He spread his arms out to show Trevor he was unharmed.

“See? Told you I’d be fine,” he said beaming up at him.

Suddenly there was a commotion from the other side of the cafeteria doors. They clattered loudly as someone on the other side attempted to force their way in. That would be his brother bringing the cavalry. He rolled his eyes.

“Looks like our time is up,” he said sarcastically. Realistically, they should have had plenty of time left, but the warden’s arrival would cut that short.

He saw Trevor’s brow crease in worry as he stared at the doors.

“Hey, it was nice meeting you,” he said, bringing Trevor’s attention back to him. “I’ll put in a good word for you with the higher ups.”

Trevor’s mouth opened in shock. “Wha—seriously?”

He nodded.

“Just like that?” Trevor asked in disbelief.

“Just like that,” he confirmed.

Trevor shook his head, at a loss for words.

“Thank you so much,” he said sincerely.

“Don’t mention it,” Ajax assured him.

There was shouting from the other side of the doors, but Trevor couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. It sounded bad.

Just as casually as he had before, Ajax strolled over to the doors and moved his barricade out of the way. He took a few steps back, allowing the warden and his guards to burst in. Warden Douglas glared hatefully at Trevor, sending a shiver down his spine.

“You,” he spat venomously.

He started to advance towards him, but to Trevor’s surprise, Ajax stopped him in place.

“Calm down Al,” he told the warden. “I had everything under control.”

Douglas tore his eyes away from Trevor and looked at Ajax. They seemed to be having some kind of silent argument. The guards the warden had brought shuffled behind him, armed with a mix of batons and pepper spray. They seemed anxious to act, but unsure of what to do without orders.

Eventually, the Warden sighed loudly. “Everyone, stand down and go back to work.”

The guards exchanged looks among themselves, seemingly hesitant. One by one, though, they holstered their weapons and left the room.

With all of his guards gone, Warden Douglas scowled at Ajax. “Will you let me go?!”

“Of course,” Ajax answered coolly, releasing him.

The warden stumbled forward slightly. Then he stood up straight again and straightened out the suit he was wearing. He shot disapproving looks at both of them.

“Are we done here?” Ajax asked innocently.

“For now,” Douglas said coldly. “We’ll have more to talk about later.”

Trevor had to wonder what that meant. Ajax had called the warden by his first name. Did they know each other somehow?

Seemingly unbothered by the warden’s posturing, Ajax shrugged and headed for the doors. Just as he was about to leave, he sent Trevor a wink over his shoulder.

“See you soon, kid.”

And then he was gone.

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