#and kept writing and world building until he was nearly dead

[anghraine]

Belated nitpicking-myself addendum: I should have said that the Ruling Stewardship twice passed through the bloodline of women. The Steward Denethor I was the first person to inherit dynastic rule of Gondor through a woman's bloodline, that of his mother Rían; she was the sister of the previous Ruling Steward, Dior, and we have no idea what Dior, Rían, or Denethor did to achieve this, what the reaction of the time was, or what their motives were, only that it was the first but not last time this occurred. The Steward Egalmoth inherited the Ruling Stewardship through his grandmother Morwen, daughter of the Steward Belecthor, and succeeded her nephew Steward Ecthelion I.

I'm nitpicking this because it's entirely possible that the Stewardship before the last years of the monarchy had passed through a woman's bloodline before, though we don't know for sure—only that the Stewardship (as granted to Húrin of Emyn Arnen, the cousin of King Minardil selected for the role) was always restricted to Húrin's descendants. It only became strictly dynastic in a (usually) father-to-son line during the reign of Eärnil, second to last king of Gondor, centuries after this Húrin's time.

Also, technically we also don't know 100% if Húrin was descended from Anárion through a woman or through some more complicated circumstance—only that he was a descendant of Anárion, and near enough in the family tree to be a known kinsman of King Minardil, while not in the line of succession nor considered "of the line of Elendil" in the formal male-line sense that is the only form of descent acknowledged by Southern or Northern Dúnedain apart from the two exceptions made for the Ruling Stewards. Nevertheless, the Stewards' descent from Anárion was formally acknowledged in Gondor and (as mentioned in the poll) in consequence, Húrin's descendants were permitted to use royal Quenya names at a time when this was forbidden to those not descended from the kings.

Today was a weird, uncomfortable day, so I'm consoling myself in the best way: with a Tumblr poll about my favorite Tolkien family—

*Tolkien wrote of the foundation of the Stewardship:

The Kings of Gondor had no doubt had “stewards” from an early time, but these were only minor officials ... He [Húrin of Emyn Arnen] was evidently the chief officer under the crown, prime counsellor of the King, and at appointment endowed with the right to assume vice-regal status [note: that is, the status of a viceroy or regent granted the powers and responsibilities of the king in his absence], and assist in determining the choice of heir to the throne, if this became vacant in his time. These functions all of his descendants inherited.

**Except the very elderly, obviously—but otherwise, every described Dúnadan of Gondor has dark or black hair (Boromir's is dark and longish by his death, while Faramir's is black and likely longer). Nearly all described Southern Dúnedain have grey eyes as well, including Boromir, Faramir, their uncle Imrahil, random soldiers, Rangers, messengers, etc, while Denethor has dark, glowing eyes (the color unknown). The members of the House of the Stewards, specifically including Boromir, also have enough of Elros's blood to inherit his beardlessness.

(None of the women of the Southern Dúnedain are described as anything except vaguely beautiful, but there's no reason to suppose the appearances of Elros's female descendants are more variable than the male ones, and Tolkien did say in NOME that Númenórean men and women were more physically similar to each other than usual.)

[naffeclipse]

Hey babe. I have been rereading your fic In Song Fish Amid the Stars. And ofcource I love Eclipse our little soft baby. But I have to say I love your world building. What I enjoyed especially was Y/n's relationship with Gregory. Not only I wholly loved his character and interpretation (how he grew up to be this kinda loner mechanic that had to have surfer cut) but also his dynamic with the main character! The fact that they were practically like siblings to each other always having each other's back. Even a small mention of their domestic moments (lending books, having meals togehter) melted my heart. And whenever I read this fic and come to the part of Y/n's disappearance from the boat, like damn. I can't imagine the despair Gregory felt, the desperate search that has no limits and ending in sight. After all the ocean is endless. The same goes for the relief when he found put y/ns home. So i have a question. Can we have insight into his point of view? His thoughts, his actions, what did he tell Freddy? How did he feel sailing back home without them? Was he falling apart thinking that his sibling is dead? Killed by the very thing they always feared? The thing he made them scared of (at least in his eyes).

Sorry for rant haha

I just live family fluff and their relationship is perfect.

Kisses

Ahhh, I'm rattling you! Thank you so much! I'm really glad you enjoy Gregory in SFATS!! He was very fun to write <3

Gregory was the one to discover Y/N's empty room on the ship, and his gut told him something was wrong. Not only were you not in bed, but you weren't sick in the bathroom or even hiding out somewhere to stop feeling the stormy waves. It didn't take long for him to confirm from a shiphand that you were missing—overboard.

And you've never swam in the ocean before.

All he could do at that moment was beg Freddy to start searching the sea. There wasn't time for guilt that first day. Once the big ship returned to the island, Gregory threw himself onto his boat and darted out to join the search with the leviathan.

He kept telling himself over and over that if anyone could find Y/N, it would be Freddy. The leviathan mer is magical, powerful, and big. Freddy can fix this. Gregory lost the parents he never knew, and now he was going to lose the only real human family he had, and he knew you. He has to give you back your old book he borrowed from you. You have to take it back.

But as the hours wanned on and Gregory tirelessly tread deeper and deeper waters, dread and fear began sinking their teeth into him. Freddy was very calm but concerned, the anchor to Gregory's storm. The fatherly mer kept Gregory going with hope despite the infinitely terrible chances.

Gregory was aware of Sun and Moon out in the sea due to a combination of Freddy spying the two colossal fish once or twice in the depths, and your own suspicious behavior, but they never once crossed his mind until he finally returned and caught news of your miraculous survival.

You're alive. He thought you looked like a wet, sopping cat who just barely survived drowning. You kind of were.

That's when the guilt returned to him in full force, and it almost bowled him over. He had to confess right then and there that he never should have forced you onto that boat. He thought he was helping. He thought he could make you less afraid but all he did was nearly get you killed.

You and Freddy told him in the same breath that it wasn't your fault.

But then you kept talking. Or rather, you kept avoiding an answer to his question: how you got back to the island in one piece. Freddy suggested so quietly within Gregory's mind that perhaps your mers are to be thanked for the rescue. Your mers.

And he thought you were a big ol' scared cat. You have a giant mer, well, two, just like him.

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader: afab!reader Character: Eustass Kid Kink: #15 Bratty Reader Prompt: #20. "Kiss me like you missed me." Gift Giver: @swampstew

Summary: Eustass up and vanished for a whole day, and gave orders to keep you on the ship no matter what. Then he had the audacity to expect a warm welcome.

Content Notes: oral sex (reader receiving), of course he calls them mouse, vaginal sex, inappropriate use of a devil fruit >.>, cream pie, swearing, short but mighty - fluffy end

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

Kid’s golden amber eyes were on you like a predator watching its prey. His head was between your thighs, and after a few teasing kisses against them, he was now buried in your cunt, eating you like a man starved.

It felt good.

It felt really good.

But you’d be damned if you were going to let him know how good it felt, or how much you missed him.

He’d been gone before you woke up, and came back so late you were truly dead to the world by the time he came to bed. The day had dragged without him around and no one on the ship seemed to know what had kept him. Only that Hip and Hop had explicit orders to keep you aboard. No exceptions.

When you’d woken up, wrapped in his arms, you’d wriggled yourself free with the intent of just being somewhere else when he woke up. Your movements, careful as they were, had been enough to wake him. After you’d refused to kiss him, and he’d refused to tell you what he was up to, you ended up here.

Kid was certain he could fix your bad attitude and had spent the last ten minutes kissing your body and stripping away your pajamas. You didn’t deny him, didn’t tell him to stop, but you refused to kiss him back until he told you what he was up to.

Damn him and his skills.

The first soft moan escapes you, and you can feel the grin on his face with his lips pressed against your pussy like they were. There was no winning for you now, and even if you didn’t want to give in, your body was done trying to protest.

Your legs trembled as he gripped your hips and twirled his pierced tongue against your clit. Your hands grabbed the sheets so roughly your knuckles were white, and a much louder moan was ripped from your throat as he sucked harshly on the bundle of nerves.

You could feel the familiar hum that followed his devil fruit power, and nearly swore as a smooth, round, long, and cold metal object began to rub your slit, just below his lips. It was a gift you had given him some time ago, a perfectly smooth glob of metal that you had happened upon after a particularly fierce battle.

It reminded you of a wish stone, aside from the fact that it wasn’t a stone, but for Eustass Kid it was a perfect one. You told him about wish stones, gave it to him and just left it at that. It had been a few months before either of you had admitted your feelings.

You were delighted to know he kept it on him all that time, but you couldn’t believe what he was getting ready to do with it.

“Is… is that my g-gift?” You didn’t want to talk, you didn’t want to give an inch, but you were too surprised by the revelation.

Eustass only looks at you, spreading your legs wide as he teases your clit with his teeth. Your body freezes, if you buck you could hurt yourself, but the hard, almost sharp sensation of his teeth against your throbbing clit was sending lightning through you.

The brute could be terrifyingly precise when he wanted, and you’re nearly whimpering as the metal wish stone pushes into your cunt. You can’t move, you can’t twitch, all you can do is accept every single drop of pleasure. The stone’s nothing compared to Kid, but it’s vibrating as it slides back and forth inside you while he pays careful attention to your clit.

The pleasure’s building, your toes are flexing, and you’re worried you’re going to leave holes in the sheets as you try not to move.

“Kid – Kid, please. Please. I ca-can’t take it!” You cry as the pleasure seems ready to overwhelm you. You need to move, you can’t stay perfectly still when you cum, you know you can’t, and you want to squirm and scream and cry for him on top of it.

Everything stops, except for a few heavy, lazy licks from Eustass against your shivering clit.

“You miss me, mouse?” He questions evenly, bright eyes regarding you from beneath hooded lids.

You almost cry, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Gonna show me how much you missed me?” He prompts, the wish stone slipping out of you and into Kid’s hand as he changes positions, caging himself over you.

You nod as thick arms hook your legs and push them open, Eustass Kid leaning down closer to you as his heavy cock presses against your clit. You reach out as he leans down closer, letting your hands disappear into his fiery red hair, pulling yourself up to meet him and kissing him.

The press of your lips together included the push of his throbbing cock into your pussy. Your fingers gripped his hair tightly as you gasped from the pleasure, Kid leaning into you and diving into the kiss as he thrusts deep inside you. He took you, devouring your cries and moans with relentless and aggressive kisses as his hips slapped into your thighs.

He was so precise. So exacting. Even at his most bruising, Kid took you to the limit he intended. Limits you weren’t even originally certain you could reach. Not just behind closed doors either.

“K-Kid!” You cry, your voice muffled by the continued kisses. His lipstick is a mess on his face, it’s a mess on yours, you’re sure. How late did he get back, that he didn’t even clean it off?

“Yeah, sweetheart?” The question falls from him in a grunt as he continues to pound into you.

“F-fuck, fill me up, please!” You beg, feeling yourself melt at the glint in his eyes as the devious grin slips along his face.

“Missed you too, mouse.” He grins before leaning down and kissing you again. His tongue pushing past your lips as he commands control of both of your mouths.

Your body tenses, shivering against the immovable will that his Eustass-goddamned-Kid as the pleasure within you crests. Your cry of pleasure breaks the kiss as you’re squirming uselessly under him. His lips find your neck instead, teeth and tongue leaving their mark and urging more desperate growls of pleasure from you as you orgasm against him.

A few heavy thrusts, a satisfied grunt that sinks into your neck, you can feel his pleasure already leaking down your body. He slumps against you, head resting against your chest, as you both just enjoy the quiet afterglow for a moment.

You wonder idly if he got any sleep at all last night, and what could he possibly have been up to? What the hell happened yesterday that would leave Kid docile and spent after a single round?

It would be some hours before you would know. The velvet wrapped custom wooden box was still perfectly wrapped in Kid’s coat. From the box to its contents, he had made everything, in a single day, at someone else’s workshop, because he didn’t want you to see anything.

Not until he was ready.

Check out the event - requests are accepted until 7/31/2023 EST

[luckyshotwrites]

Ch. 68 // The Suntouched // Day xxx

Contents (Warnings): What is a Suntouched Fae? (Angst, vore mention, character and monster info as always). Read full chapter on - A03

Wordcount: 2,800 + (SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT GOT A LOT SMOOVIN' RIGHT NOW!)

Song I listened to on repeat for this chapter: Ship in a bottle - Fin [Steffan Argus]

Side note: This will contain experimental writing; first person (Lynette's view) will be implemented alongside third person for the two other essential characters, (mostly) Alexander and (occasionally) Drake. All their text will be italicized for those third-person moments, with the characters' names in Bold at the start and their thoughts in Bold. There may be other characters I write for using this.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

(Diomwava. 31st)

Claudia

Fae's are born at night. They are collected from the red soil to which the mother gives their body. It's broken when they are buried, split into pieces, and reshaped within the world with their magic, hoping to create at least one or two worthy heirs to their mother's sacrifice. 

Afterward, a caretaker is left to collect, train and raise those younglings on the morals and ways of the coven. However...if a fae is born during the time of the fairies, the day, they are suntouched. The coven marks those newborns as accursed, disgusting omens. They are immediately buried away from the red cave garden and sealed into the earth to become fauna. A waste of their mothers' efforts.

Though, the coven kept one alive. The leader of the collection, a group of individuals that searched the forest and beyond, had given up her body. 

When the mother gave up their body like this, some of their memories and techniques were passed on, so they couldn't afford to lose this child. Yet, the accused suntouched perturbed them all. 

But, they still named the youngling. Urtsi, meaning useless or lame.

Her watcher and mother's previous partner, Theieo. He kept her away from the rest of the other younglings and was forced to teach her anything he knew out of the sight of the others. She'd only be free to roam when sent on a collection outside the coven.  

"Another journey?" His lips quivered into a scowl. The dark gray cover over his face stared up toward the tallest building, marble white and columned at every thirty feet tall ring/level. The coven leaders sat atop the red garden at least 100 feet up. 

"They can't keep sending you out." Theieo hissed in their native tongue.

His eyes, hidden behind the "visor," coasted over her body. Urtsi was missing one of her spare limbs, only wielding three on her back, and her once beautiful curled horns were stripped from her head. Her hair had grown over to hide the cracked scars.

Urtsi's face stared up at him. "I must do it. They said so."

They wanted her dead. They both knew that. Theieo didn't want her to stay, but he couldn't leave and assumed she'd be too young to venture alone.

He sat with her under two large, crumbling pillars on flat bundles of plush leaves. "I know, Urtsi, you always do so well." His smiled through his sour voice.

She curled up in his arms, the Suntouched Fae. Even after spending time with her, it scared him to touch her. His instilled instincts told him to squeeze the life out of Urtsi to protect himself and the coven. 

He shut his eyes, swallowing the urge. He held the quiet child until she got ready for her journey.

Theieo brushed his hair back and put his two main hands out to her. He clamped his hands over hers and lifted them to her face height.

"Let Veina watch you," he brought them back down, "Esidos protect you," then he swung them very high up, nearly pulling her off the ground, "and if you don't make it," he brought her hands to his face. He touched them to the crack of his mouth under the faceplate. "know that I love you." 

Urtsi had received his blessing. She always did before she left. He let her hands go, and Urtsi kept them pressed flatly together, then bowed forward. "Returned."

...

Every tree was well over one hundred feet. It made Urtsi feel so small. She was still growing, but Fae only got to about fifteen to eighteen feet at most. These weren't even some of the tallest trees; some were nearly three hundred feet tall. 

There weren't any low-hanging branches with them either, just burrows for animals or the species Urtsi was after. 

"Escora's (fairies)?" Urtsi reminded herself.

Though Fae's ate Escora's, they generally stayed away from colonies. The Elder Escora's were no joke. When they reached a certain age, they became giant creatures, hideously so, but protectors of the other younger Escora nonetheless. 

Then as a giant shadow cast over her, something blocked the sun. Her visored face looked up and saw the shimmering midnight scales of the giant flying monster. A drakin. Urtsi wondered how free it must have felt to fly up so high. She couldn't pull her eyes away, and the farther it got, its scales seemed to change to red. Until she no longer saw it. Urtsi's head didn't drop for a while. 

Why would they send me out after an Escora or two? Wouldn't they come themselves? She finally questioned. Her head dropped, and she continued her search. They would never trust her to bring back something most Fae found precious. You eat an Escora, and you get a wish. The thoughts swirled in her head. What would I wish for? Urtsi asked herself. She couldn't ask for anything. It wasn't her right. 

She searched for several more hours; the taps of her thin, agile feet stopped on the dirt floor. She stopped before the dead beast at least twice her size, as she was only ten feet tall. She approached the body and gave it a light kick for good measure. 

It was a fuzzy one, quite big and with needs embedded between its fur. Urtsi could feel the magic of the one who slayed it, a signature left by an a-Escora. She searched the area, knowing this might mean a colony was nearby. Her mission for the coven leaders would be a success, and she didn't lose anything this time, not a back arm. She didn't want to lose another as she was down to three. 

Her antenna twitched, thinking they caught something again. Though it was really the light of the sun dwindling. Escora would never stay out at night; it was risky for them as more dangerous creatures were nocturnal. 

The brown-haired Suntouched Youngling, Urtsi, crawled under an abandoned burrow. Her pale, bleached pink skin shined too brightly at night. It'd attract the creatures; that's what the coven told her.

She huddled up. Though she was a child, mentally that of a twelve-year-old, she held not an ounce of anger toward her coven like Theieo did. She knew she was a crutch on Theieo; they reminded her of that every day. 

She almost considered this to be the time she'd run away. Not out of fear or sadness but simply to preserve herself. 

Urtsi had watched repeatedly, Suntouched Fae like her, babies, reburied after they scrambled out, sealed away to die in blood-stained soil, and bound to remain still by their name. 

Her thoughts went quiet. She heard shuffling. Things were moving by her, but she could not see them. 

She ignored it and remained still. 

Urtsi listened. It sounded close, and she swore she saw a bit of dirt. 

And soon, a few things entered her site; they were quick. They grabbed her body firmly and yanked her from the tree. She recognized them as arms from her own people. 

She readied to protect herself.

"URTSI." 

Her body stopped, and the hands got her without a fight. 

Fae weren't allowed to use each other's names. They held power behind them. If a being more powerful than the Fae said it, they would leave them helpless. 

Urtsi's body hung limp, and she witnessed the few coven leaders that sent her. She did not speak to them for prolonged periods, she only saw them when they had a request, and that was it. 

Their face plates no longer covered their faces; they had removed them for the night. The plate can only be first released by the one who lifted them from the soil. They must allow you to see clearly; after their hands print over the Fae, they can forever remove it yourself. 

Their eyes were entirely colored, with little white in sight. The color of their hue said what they were, and the rarest had two, such as the leader that held Urtsi. 

They didn't say a word to her, nor could Urtsi say a word to them. The one that held her with one eye of crimson red and forest green had not an ounce of pity behind them. 

The other two, with this one, had the pit behind her ready. 

A hole. Urtsi's body trembled, and they need not call her name again. Urtsi couldn't even beg, only desperate, faintly whimpering with rapid breaths.  

And they dropped her down the deep hole. It allowed her to hazily look up, seeing the figures far above her. She could hear their chants. 

"Return to the soil, accept your impurity, and beg for forgiveness while washed with blood." 

And the soil piles at the edges began to move over her, dropping onto her body. Each pile felt heavier and heavier; an indescribable weight befell her.

As it filled, Urtsi felt a chance arise. Only babies received this treatment, never someone as old as her. She placed a cloak over herself to take away the immense strain. 

It wouldn't matter, as Urtsi could not move or see; she was trapped, unable to escape as she knew they had dropped their blood onto the soil above. Because she heard the snake of roots. The slow slink through the dirt before it crashed into her cloak. It came at her from all sides, trying to crush it and absorb her body. 

Urtsi gasped, trying to hold out against it in the darkness. Unable to see, only felt the bends to her cloak. The thorns await to prick past her skin. She refused to accept this fate; she wouldn't even though Urtsi knew she deserved it.

...

Had it been an hour? Her barrier weakened so severely that her legs had partially succumbed to some of the thorns. They were taking every bit of her energy. 

She knew she wouldn't last much longer; she felt her breath slowly siphoned, the dirt barely held back by her barrier, much like the squeezing thorns.

Then the roots exploded in a burst of screeching, colorful fire. The dirt felt lifted enough from Urtsi so she could safely break her own barrier. The three hands at her back, desperately clawing away, and the hands at her front. 

The moonlight shined from above as she got to the edges and yanked her body up, weakly, trying to heal her twitching legs.  

She didn't care who saved her. Her biggest concern was getting far away from the hole. 

She couldn't see anyone nearby. Who saved me? She asked. She knew she wasn't her own guardian.

Then she felt the signature, the same as before, and though blurry, she could make out through the hazy visor a flutter of tiny wings.

"Escora!" 

She shouted, and it stopped. They twisted in their flight, spun backward, and perched upon a tiny burrow in a tree higher than Urtsi.

"Quiet, young Fae. You shouldn't call my species out so loudly." They warned, sending their voice into Urtsi's head. Urtsi could barely make them out, except for the green at, which seemed to be their hair, outfit, and eyes.

Urtsi stared up, "was it you who helped me?"

The Escora didn't answer.

Urtsi repeated it.

The little Escora spoke, "Yes. Out of pity."

The fact that it was pity didn't bother Urtsi. She curiously turned her head, "You have pity for Fae? We eat your species."

"I'm aware of the actions your kind take towards us." The Escora replied flatly. "There was a possibility that you would attack me, not that I don't think I can best you."

Urtsi said, "I'm quite gifted for my age."

"As am I," she retorted. Her judgmental hue scoured the dirtied Fae. Besides the bleached color, Urtsi's body looked mangled.

"You're tiny," Urtsi said to the ten-inch tall Escora.

She sighed and gestured to Urtsi, "Clean yourself, little fae."

Urtsi glanced down at herself. It was nothing new, then back to the soil. 

No one climbs out when they are made to return to the soil. You accept it. Urtsi fought the idea. She didn't want that.

"Don't you dare, Suntouched." The Escora's voice echoed into Urtsi's head.

"The coven leaders did it; I can't-"

"If you save a fae, that fae owes you a favor, correct?" 

This made more sense to Urtsi. She had been warned by Theieo about those that wait for a chance to help a fae. 

"Yes," Urtsi said.

"Live."

The Escora left the hole in the honeyed tree.  

Urtsi waited for more with the Escora's request, but that was it. "What do you mean?"

"I request that you continue to live." The Escora said, "and that you don't waste this second chance I gave you." Urtsi watched her small arm point to the left, "The path to Oria, a large city, is easy to find with the illuminated strobes."

"Is that really what you want of me?" Urtsi asked.

"That's what I want." There wasn't a moment of hesitation in their voice. 

Urtsi put her hands out, then looped her thumbs together. Her palms faced her. She then curled her hands into fists while keeping the thumbs remained looped. She pressed it back into her chest. "Then I will live."

It made no sense to Urtsi, an Escora, helping her and sending her off without a proper favor. They gained nothing from letting Urtsi go. After her promise, the Escora left into the night. 

I think Theieo can finally be at peace. Urtsi thought to herself. It wasn't that she was ignorant. She understood the tight clutch from Theieo and his lust to kill. She still cared for him and would remember his blessing. Though, she knew she would never see him again.

...

On the third day, Urtsi tried to do what she saw others do go into a building and get food. They told her she needed coins to purchase things. She was willing to trade what she collected, little trinkets and small critters, but they did not accept it. 

On the fourth day, she tried to ask for coins, got a few, and brought snacks. She ate them ravenously in her corner, under a small tent she made of leaves woven with one another. 

A voice pulled her attention. She stuffed what she could in her mouth to ensure it was hers to enjoy.  

"Anubis, look at that thing!"

Urtsi froze, meeting eye-to-eye with the lad who crouched to stare into her hidey-hole. His hue was bright orange, swirly, as they observed Claudia. A trait she recognized amongst Magus's that came back to life after dying. She only knew this because she stumbled upon what she believed to be a corpse before. She saw the long stitch of tattoo trailing down the front of his neck. 

The other male accompanying him kept a distance. He didn't fully turn his body. His hazardous yellow eyes seized her. They widened with surprise, and a smile followed. 

"You're a very bright Fae," Anubis remarked. A heavy yet smooth tone, one at which, Urtsi understood. He knew "whisper." 

The swirly one that Urtsi didn't understand spoke to Anubis. "They don't speak simple?"

Anubis nodded and continued, "You should be with your coven; where are they?"

Urtsi looked over the being. The amount of magic tied to Anubis frightened her. 

"I'm a part of no coven," Urtsi replied timidly.

Anubis grinned, then glanced back at who Urtsi assumed was a mate or fellow member of something, as why else would they be with one another.

Anubis moved closer to her hut, "So you've got no home, no income, and can't speak the native tongue?" He asked. 

Urtsi agreed.

He turned back to the other male and flipped his head up. The excitable one popped up and dug into his pocket. 

"He wants to play a game with you, fae. A coin flip." Anubis gestured for the pumpkin orange-eyed male to show her the coin. He did so happily and shook his light, fluffy pink hair afterward.

"The side with the sky beast is Ray's," Anubis said as the zombified Magus showed one that looked like a crow with several eyes, "the side with the horned one is soil." It was a horse-like creature with several horns on its head.

"He'll flip the coin, catch it and put it on the back of his hand. You call what you think it is; if you are right, you win; if you are wrong, we win."

"What do you desire if you win?"

"Kalin thinks it'll be best if you join the family." Anubis eyed the male with the coin and gave him the nod to flip it. Anubis continued, and Urtsi watched the sly curl at his mouth, "And if you win, Kalin said he'd give you his right eye."

It flipped in the air for a few moments before landing on the back of his hand.

"Rays or Soil, little fae?" Anubis asked. 

Kalin waited, staring up at her too. 

Urtsi, for a moment, took them both in through the hazy visor. They were the first she had spoken to besides the store clerks, both seemingly different than her people. If she refused, she would gain nothing. 

"Rays."

...

Hey, you, thank you so much for reading. It means a lot that I put out a story that people can enjoy! So, I hope you continue to enjoy it as WE have a LOT more to go! YOU BETTER KEEP PROSPERING! (Nonnegotiable).

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What I’d do for a Livable Income (Synopsis/Chapter - List)

[mamamittens]

Since I'll probably never get to it, I figure I'd share this snippet I wrote for a fic I really wanted to do well over a year ago. Technically, I've wanted to write a The Gamer inspired fic for YEARS but math is hard and it's a lot of technical world building I could never commit to (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

Uhhh, context, it's about an OC named Mina (nickname, her full name is pretentious). She ate (? Was still deciding if I wanted it to be like The Gamer manga and it's just a random skill or a devil fruit) what's essentially a gamer fruit and periodically does dungeon runs. She's Thatch's niece, I wanted her to travel for a bit with the Straw Hats until they meet Ace and she explains she's looking for her uncle (with a horrific name, Thatch being short for like, Thatcher or smt, it's written down somewhere???) And Ace realizes who she's looking for. Not sure if he thought Thatch was dead or nah but takes her along cause he feels responsible in at least taking her to Whitebeard as his technical grandkid.

She went looking for Thatch cause she's still a minor but owns all her parents assets and her paternal uncle has gambling debts... And may have been about to sell her out to Crocodile, didn't decide honestly. But basically she REALLY couldn't stay home any longer.

Anyway! Until an incident where she nearly dies and discovers she can actually call for help, she... Doesn't quite blend well with the crew. Mostly cause Thatch has BEEF with his family and doesn't quite know how to handle this.

This snippet is after her DF is discovered and she's saved from a boss battle, essentially.

The rest is explained well enough in this fic.

(snippet under the cut)

The kitchens were mostly vacated at the moment. Thatch’s division busy elsewhere until it was time to get to the meat of meal prepping for dinner. Tonight required a lot of potatoes, so Thatch decided it was as good a time as any to have some quality time with Mina. His niece… fuck it was so weird to consider everything he’d learned so far.

Before, he was too blinded by the strong resemblance to his sister—and to be fair he knew it and tried to keep his distance while sorting through his feelings. He knew better by now than to blame her for who she was related to. It was hard though. Hell, even her cocky laugh reminded him of his sister. The mental image of his niece standing strong with bandages wrapped around her stomach, eyes blazing as she challenged the hell spawn in that dungeon haunted him.

It was just… so different from the amicable, eager young girl he had seen up until that point. He thought that Mina was kind of weak, maybe with a secret bitchy side like his sister. But it was clear now that Mina and himself were cut from a very familiar cloth. Something stronger than steel ran in their spine that made a cornered fight turn into unique opportunity to overtake their enemy. Anything can be an advantage with a little creativity. And it was clear that Mina had been very creative her whole life with the ease that she handled a rapidly spiraling situation beyond her control.

Not quite comfortable leading people, clearly, but eager to share knowledge to gain an upper hand.

And now he was here. Sitting on a barrel opposite to his niece, both of them huddled over a growing pile of peeled potatoes. The sound of knives swiftly cutting apart the skin the only sound for a very long moment. Thatch just… wasn’t sure where to start.

What could he say?

“…So. Dungeons, huh?” Thatch grimaced at the piss poor start but kept going, “How long has that been going on? I know you said earlier they weren’t optional but when did they start?” Mina glanced up at him.

“I was ten, actually. Not sure if it was because of my birthday or because I reached a high enough level. It was a pretty tame dungeon though. Slime monsters, but they were just little goopy puddles. Cute but they tended to get bigger fast if I didn’t take them out quick enough. Almost drowned because I didn’t realize I could physically rip them apart and I didn’t have a weapon at the time.” Mina explained, smoothly running the potato in her hand in circles to form a seamless peel.

“Wow. That must have been pretty scary. How did… how did Victoria take it?” Thatch couldn’t help but ask. It sounded messy. And if nothing else, he just knew his sister would have loathed the mess.

“Victoria?” Mina paused, looking up at him for a moment until she realized who he was talking about. “Oh! Her. Uhm, she wasn’t there. I had been playing in my room at the time. No one saw me disappear and I cleaned up afterwards.”

Thatch frowned, hands still making the practiced motions to efficiently peel yet another damn potato.

“Kind of lucky then, I guess. Someone probably noticed when things got more serious though, right? I mean… back there… you were impaled Mina. Most people can’t just walk that off.” Mina snorted.

“Nope. No one noticed. I was pretty good at covering up for any… mistakes I made. And the worst anyone saw was bruises, but that could come from anything. Usually I just said I tripped over a rug. Gramps saw through it a little, I think. But he didn’t call me out on it.” Mina elaborated with a smile.

Thatch’s heart stuttered and he stopped. Knife poised over a potato.

“You could have died.” Thatch said, looking up at Mina as she stopped as well. She looked confused. “You were ten. You didn’t leave the island until you were fifteen. Five years you were dropped in random dungeons. And no one noticed?! Victoria never happened to see anything? Or her husband?! Were they all blind?!” Thatch knew he was growing a little hysterical, but it wouldn’t leave his mind.

A little ten-year-old girl, his fucking niece, having to plan around death matches in a house crawling with servants. And his sister was always a nosy bitch. There was no way in hell she missed even a misplaced hair on her only child!

“Well, the staff were a bit busy running the estate. I liked doing chores and helping, but if I disappeared for a few hours no one minded.” Mina looked confused as to why Thatch was growing more and more upset. Finally, something clicked. “Oh! Right. I’m really used to it by now, but that’s probably upsetting to hear. A little kid killing monsters in her free time without a choice. I’m… sorry?” Mina grimaced herself at the awkward trailing apology.

An apology. She was apologizing to Thatch.

Somehow, Thatch knew this was not going to be the most upsetting part.

“Did my sister really never notice you fighting for your life?! You were ten!” Thatch tossed the potato into the peeled pile, ignoring how little was left after he got a bit too hasty with his knife. Mina frowned, tilting her head in confusion. It was cute, but Thatch could already feel the horror dawning on him.

What the fuck did his sister do all those years?

“I don’t know how she could have noticed, Thatch. They weren’t even there?” Mina looked so earnest as she said that. Like there wasn’t something really fucked up with that sentence. Sure, plenty of kids grew up without parents. Technically, so did Thatch, but his parents were too invested in their business and politics to be emotionally present. They were at least mostly there as his sister and himself grew up.

“What?”

Mina looked down, selecting another potato with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Well, yeah. I don’t know when they left. I don’t actually remember them, so it must have been when I was really young.” Mina laughed, the sound a little too forced, “You know… I actually thought I was just like… an illegitimate child. Thought that the portrait of my parents was my grandparents because the painting was so old. It made sense at the time. Oh! Or that I was adopted. Possibly just a really lucky kid of the staff that… never wanted to acknowledge me. They were on trips all over ever since I could remember. I never talked to them. Not even once.”

Thatch put down the knife, afraid he would do something terrible if he held onto it.

“Mina…” Her shoulders were trembling despite how steady her hands were as they meticulously separated the potato skin with delicate curves of her knife.

“They showed up again for a week, isolating because they were sick and didn’t want it to spread to the staff I guess. My parents were home for a whole week and I didn’t even know they were my parents until the reading of the will. I stood there dressed in funeral clothes and so very confused. Gramps realized after the will reading that no one had actually told me who my parents were. I was just educated ‘as a young lady should be’ and that was that.” Thatch gently reached out and pulled away the knife. Tears dropping onto the blade and sinking onto the exposed potato, “T-They left when I was just a baby. I… I never got to know them. Never got a chance to. D-Did I… did I do something wrong? Is that why they left and never came back? Was it that obvious I wasn’t worth the trouble?”

Thatch crumbled as Mina finally looked up at him.

Her face was red, eyes bright with tears. She looked hopeful and resigned, like she thought she knew exactly what he’d say. Like she was afraid of what he might say. A weak sniffle jostled her whole body as she pressed her lips in a thin line. Mina was almost grown, but Thatch had no trouble lifting her into his lap and tucking her head under his chin.

“Oh Mina.” She sobbed, hands fisting the back of his shirt desperately as she clung to him. Thatch pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered into her hair, “I am so sorry, sweetie. I don’t know why my sister left, but you’ve always been worth it. You will always be worth it.” Thatch tucked his niece in closer to his chest and stroked her hair.

He had thought, having grown up in such a lonely household, that his sister would never repeat what their parents had done. It seems that she decided to top their neglect instead. It was harsh, but as his poor niece cried harder in his arms, he solemnly decided that the only good thing his sister did outside of giving birth was die and leave Thatch with custody.

Sure, he didn’t really know how to parent anyone, but fuck. There was no damn way he could fuck up harder than his sister did. And he had plenty of family here with him to help. Hell, Oyaji would know exactly what to do if nothing else! Thatch sighed and resigned himself to the strong possibility that they would be behind on the potatoes.

He sure as hell wasn’t going to tell his niece to suck it up just so his division wouldn’t have to peel any vegetables. They’d understand anyway. Despite wanting to follow his example in case things went south, Mina had clearly grown on them. Her eager (attention starved), willing to learn (desperate to please), and charming (a miracle in the midst of shitty parenting) personality winning them over. It was a wonder she wasn’t more fucked up—though a strong argument could be made for her reckless behavior. That did explain why she got along so well with Ace though... Actually, that was probably also a severe warning sign in it’s own right given Ace’s horrendous self-worth issues. But ‘gramps’, which was probably old Barty if he remembered the head butler well enough, could hardly be expected to pull a miracle out of his ass to make up for every deficit.

[fragmcntdstars]

@araneorum ( skye abrantes )

         from  the  sounds  of  the  city  outside  ,  the  power  outage  was  still  ongoing .   while  it  was  an  inconvenience  in  terms  of  making  sure  that  he  kept  his  blood  supply  fresh  ,  he  had  struggled  through  worse  .   in  some  frame  of  mind  ,  cain  was  glad  that  he  had  made  a  room  for  an  icebox  in  his  large  apartment  .   it  sat  on  top  of  a  slightly  larger  college  refrigerator  ,  one  of  the  purchases  he'd  made  for  himself  once  he'd  gotten  to  new  orleans  after  spending  some  time  in  his  massachusetts  home  .   he  leans  back  in  the  chair  that  he'd  been  sitting  in  ,  writing  by  fairly  bright  candlelight  as  he  tried  to  come  up  with  a  new  song  .   he'd  spent  time  the  other  day  writing  in  his  journal  ,  which  had  turned  into  writing  a  few  short  stories  to  pass  the  time  .

         maybe  he  could  try  publishing  a  collection  of  his  short  stories  ,  but  that  was  something  that  he'd  worry  about  later  on  .

         a  groan  rips  from  slightly  parted  lips  before  he  rolls  his  eyes  ,  pushing  a  hand  through  his  hair  before  setting  his  pen  down  on  the  table  .   he  waited  a  moment  before  standing  up  ,  looking  around  the  nearly  dark  room  .   he  fucking  loved  blackout  curtains  .   he  understood  their  necessity  ,  having  lived  during  the  wars  &&  even  spending  some  time  in  london  during  the  second  world  war  .   perhaps  it  wasn't  the  best  idea  ,  but  he  hadn't  been  near  his  home  in  years  ,  &&  something  had  drawn  him  back  there  .   he  had  found  his  sire  again  ,  although  it  wasn't  what  he  was  hoping  to  find  .   he  found  his  sire  holed  up  in  a  crumbling  building  ,  trying  to  drink  blood  from  a  dead  man  .   cain  did  nothing  to  help  him  ,  not  even  when  the  vampire  who  turned  him  got  caught  under  beams  of  sunlight  that  touched  his  skin  .

         he  watched  the  older  vampire  burn  &&  felt  nothing  for  the  other  man  .   perhaps  it  was  cruel  ,  but  he  wasn't  going  to  worry  about  the  other  .   from  that  point  forward  ,  he  was  only  going  to  worry  about  himself  .   that  philosophy  ,  to  his  shock  ,  was  something  that  had  continued  until  he'd  met  skye  .   if  cain  was  being  honest  with  himself  ,  he  didn't  think  that  he  would  find  anyone  that  reminded  him  of  mary  jane  .   yet  ,  the  more  time  he  spent  with  her  ,  it  seemed  like  he  had  gotten  her  back  .   if  he  had  done  things  differently  ,  perhaps  she  would  have  survived  .

         “  you're  going  in  bloody  circles  again  ,  ”  he  hisses  under  his  breath  ,  dragging  a  hand  down  his  face  as  he  goes  into  the  master  bedroom  .   there  was  a  large  bed  almost  in  the  center  of  the  room  ,  but  there  was  a  dark  cherry  coffin  in  the  corner  .   it  was  roomy  ,  one  that  he'd  had  custom  built  .   he  wasn't  sure  how  long  it  had  taken  him  to  get  the  coffin  ,  but  the  first  sleep  he'd  had  in  the  coffin  made  the  wait  worth  it  .   he  toes  off  his  shoes  before  crossing  the  distance  separating  him  &&  skye  .   he  climbed  into  the  bed  with  her  ,  pulling  her  close  to  his  body  as  he  wrapped  an  arm  around  her  center  .

         a  soft  growl  comes  from  him  as  he  kisses  along  her  neck  ,  sighing  .   “ you  smell  so  damn  good  .  ”

[buryustogether]

shrike

daryl dixon x gn!reader

summary: a bookstore run proves successful.

inspired by shrike by hozier

“ remember me, love

when i am reborn

as a shrike to your sharp

and glorious thorn ”

The Virginian horizon did not offer the promise of thunderclouds and drizzles often, but when it did, well… as they always said back before the world crumbled to its feet and humanity’s cries for help had silenced, when it rains, it pours.

The clouds overhead emptied themselves like weeping lovers onto the empty streets of a downtown set of blocks, washing away the brown and red stains that marked the concrete and tarmac. Abandoned cars sighed through the downpour, and buildings half-lost to fires and the beginnings of Mother Nature herself threatened to fall permanently. Stray cats took shelter beneath sewer drugs and a number of rain pipes sang their sweet metallic songs. No walkers here, at least for now. There was no sign of the undead and their curse they had brought onto the world - only an empty void once occupied by a species now forgotten.

Your hood let fat drops of excess rain water spill onto your face as you pushed it back, turning your face upward to the ceiling of the short building. It smelled of yellowing paper and ruined ink; precisely what might become of a bookstore after the end. At your back, your companion swung the heavy door shut behind him - also soaked through his bones - and stuck a nearby metal rod through the handles to keep outsiders out. He turned to face you, and you cast an eye to the expanse of the store.

Silence.

Daryl let the arm of his bow clang noisily against the cash register to his left.

Still - silence.

“Thank god,” you muttered and began to wipe water from your face. It still dripped from your nose and landed at your feet. “I just want to go home and get out of these wet clothes.”

He gave a grunt in response, which you had come to learn meant his acknowledgement. From his tattered jeans pocket he produced a folded piece of paper, mindfully pulled the pieces apart, and handed it to you. Despite the fact that you wore gloves - a precaution you packed just in case the weather decided to take a turn - you felt his fingertips graze over your as you accepted the offering. Neither of you acted upon the shock of emotion that soared through your veins at the touch - if he had felt it, too.

But you were sure he had.

You had been an elementary teacher before the fall, and he was an unemployed soul that wandered, but never too far so that the chain around his neck choked him. While you taught little ones to read and write, he would find odd jobs as a mechanic and a repairman, lumbering through crowded areas with his head low and his voice silent.

It had taken time to coax him from his hideaway of a gruff personality and one-word answers; the same way it took time to bring out the starry eyes of children who were struck and taught they had no place in the world. In some ways, you saw that child within himself, hidden from view by the silhouettes of the men that kept his bruises hidden and his tongue quiet. You wondered what he would have been like, if he’d had a good home, a good brother, a good life before all this.

Over the months, then the years together amongst the walking dead, you’d gently, tentatively, prodded until you found a hole within his walls. And from there, they had come apart for you. Trinkets and gifts arrived for you from his runs, his darkest and most horrendous secrets had come to the light that you provided. A kiss on the cheek here, a lingering touch there.

Yet neither of you had the bravery to venture further from there.

The graphite of the pencil Eugene had used to make the supply list was nearly invisible, run off and almost ruined by the rain. Blinking a few times, you held the paper up to a small hole in the ceiling that allowed in a tiny waterfall of light - and rain. You knew this spot was plotted out because the children were in need of new workbooks for their lessons, and the tiny library in the house on the corner was bare as an early born dawn in winter. Rick and Michonne also requested a few specifics they wanted for Judith, since she was just beginning to read the letter magnets on the fridge.

Just barely, you could make out the names and titles of the requested books.

“Most of these are kids’ reads,” you said and motioned Daryl follow you with a jerk of your head. “The children’s area is probably in the back.”

Like a loyal canine, ever the silent guardian, Daryl trailed after you without a word. The faint sound of the rain accompanied your footsteps on broken glass and books spilled from their shelves. Most everything was still intact, even after all this time; you supposed books weren’t a necessity when it came to the apocalypse.

Another glance at the list had you rolling the titles over in your head, mulling through them amidst the comfortable silence you both shared.

“I read quite a few of these to my kids before everything,” you spoke and pushed the list into your own pocket. A fond, nostalgic smile spread across your features as you rounded a self-help area and beheld the children’s area; a little nook bedazzled with small shelves, stuffed animals, and toys galore. Fairytale paintings adorned the walls, and there sat a small semicircle of chairs fit for tiny legs and small bodies. An obvious stage for storytelling.

Daryl emitted another grunt as he let his eyes wander over the plushies, slinging his bow across his back. Then, he followed it up. “Had a teach tha’ would read us crap like this all th’time.”

You made it a point to yourself not to lift your head from your hunt through the picture books for Rick and Michonne’s prioritized request. “Yeah?” you said, keeping your eyes on the colorful spines. You knew if you looked at him, he would clam up and wander off, embarrassed and frustrated for exposing himself.

“Mm,” he agreed. With a large, sinewy hand, calloused with endless days’ worth of manual labor, he grasped a stuffed dog and examined it with hooded eyes. “Nice lady. Used’ta give me sugary stuff after lunch.”

“She sounds nice.” Your fingers stopped their skimming when they ran across the spine of a familiar forest green book. Eyes widening and breath catching in your throat, you gave a small noise of delight and pulled the title from its hidden space on the shelf.

Setting the stuffed dog back in its place, Daryl turned his head at your tiny exclamation. “What?”

Propping yourself on a knee and shifting your pack on your shoulders, you swiped a hand to clear the dust off the cover. Depicted on its glossy surface was a small bird with a band of black across the plane of its soft face. “This was my favorite book as a kid. I can’t believe it’s still - well, was still in print.” You stood and moved beside him to show the front, your arms touching and feet just inches apart.

He tilted his head slightly. ‘The Shrike’ was printed above the cartoon bird in a childish font, one that nearly made his expression twist just to read. “Hmm.”

“Oh, don’t ‘hmm.’ It’s a good book.”

Daryl shrugged a stiff shoulder and turned away. You could have sworn the tips of his ears had painted themselves with a faint shade of blush. “Sure.”

Pursing your lips, you took a quick glance around the rest of the bookstore. You were the only souls within its four walls, save for a few toads that had made their homes within the damp carpets. Somewhere outside, let in through the gaping hole in the ceiling, a bird whistled and cried.

You adjusted your gun belt, then took a seat in one of the child-sized chairs in the semicircle and opened the book across your lap. Daryl released a sound of protest, but you ignored him and flipped through the blank first pages.

‘The shrike hatched from its egg in a big, roomy nest. He saw the blue sky, and the green grass down below. But he was all alone. The other baby birds had already learned to fly, leaving the shrike all alone.���

“Will ‘ya at least give me th’list?” came Daryl’s voice through the picture in your head.

In response, your own voice answered him - this time soft and gentle, a wistful lilt upon your tongue. “He reminds me of you.”

“…The damn bird?”

“Mm.” You took a breath and skimmed over the last few lines of the page.

‘So the shrike taught himself to fly, without anyone to help him. And he became the best-flying bird amongst the skies.’

You rose to your feet and padded to Daryl across the soggy carpet, leaving a faint trial of footprints in your wake. He watched you incredulously, hands hanging at his sides. You set the book back in its place, then reached up on your toes to cup your hand against his stubbled jaw. The touch was not sudden, nor rough, nor unwelcome. His eyelids fluttered slightly, senses heightened through the roof and skywards.

“Oh, Daryl,” you breathed. His expression wavered, electric blue eyes searching anywhere but yours. The way his skin heated beneath yours told you he was not reluctant to indulge in your spoilery, but rather frightened. “You are the best man I’ve ever met.”

It was obvious he had to stop himself from leaning into your touch. Instead, he sniffed and said nothing.

Your attention was drawn to your right when, like a message from the heavens themselves, a small songbird flitted in from the hole in the roof and came to perch on a nearby shelf divider. It chirped, just as it had earlier, and preened a feather or two before crying again and taking off deeper into the bookstore.

Unable to control the golden glow emanating from your heart, you smiled gently and dropped your hand from his face. “Sorry. Just… a little nostalgic.” You cleared your throat, then pulled the list from your pocket and opened it up. “Let’s get these books and get out of here. I’m freezing in these clothes.”

You didn’t see, and would only realize later that evening upon finding the book on your kitchen table, that Daryl pulled ‘The Shrike’ from its place on the shelf and tucked it into his bag before following you.

Watching you both with black, soulful eyes, the songbird chirped and trilled before taking flight back out into the rain.

[vendettaparker]

You Say the Whole World’s Ending (Honey, It Already Did) [P.P]

Summary: Peter mourns his greatest loss.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Character death, angst, typos, throwing up

a/n: hi! i’m genuinely so sorry for how sad this is lol. i had to write this idea down before i forgot it. that one bo burnam song really got me :( here it is if you want to hear it! hope you enjoy and as always reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! ok. back to my hiatus :)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Today, the world mourns the loss of one of the most innovative teens in existence,” The news reported stated with tears in her eyes, “Last night, (Y/N) Stark was found dead after going missing for three months. The cause of death has not yet been disclosed and her family asks for privacy during this time of grieving. The world shares in this pain, and I believe I speak for all of us when I say, (Y/N), you will be missed.”

The clouds muddled over the compound, creating a darkness that sheathed over the building while the rain pittered over the roof and windows. As cliche as it was, Pepper and Tony provided black umbrella to all the guests at the graveyard. Together they huddled over the casket with their umbrellas, attempting to keep the rain off of the perfect mahogany the best they could.

Morgan clung to her mothers leg and scratched at her neck, uncomfortable in the pearls she was forced in, too young to understand what she had just lost. Tony kept his arm around Pepper, trying to hold on to what family he had left, begging whatever god was out there to give him respite from his pain.

Pepper gripped her umbrella with an iron fist, recalling when she first met you. Small and shy as you were, you quickly warmed up to her as she showed you to your room.

“Is this her?” Pepper asked as you cowered behind Tony’s leg, a small backpack hung loosely on your shoulders.

“Yeah,” Tony nodded with a proud smile, “this is (Y/N).” Tony bent down, motioning for Pepper to join him as she greeted you with a warm smile. “This is Pepper, (Y/N),” Tony placed a hand on your shoulders, “she’ll help watch you when I’m away.”

You nodded and held your hand out to her. Pepper grasped it in her perfectly manicured fingers and held it tightly, “I think we’ll be good friends,” she smiled, giving your fingers a sweet kiss.

Pepper not only lost her daughter; she lost her best friend as well.

Peter couldn’t even go. May begged him to go, trying to pull him out of the rut he’d been in for the last three months. She did the best she could, but deep down she knew. She knew all too well the pain of losing your soulmate, and as young and naive as Peter was, he still managed to find that in you.

Peter felt hopeless. He had held out hope for months, thinking that by some miracle you;d get to come home. That you’d walk through the door and run up to him, pulling him into your warmth and smashing your soft lips onto his. Every night he dreamed of you. Your laugh and your jokes. The way you scrunched your nose when he said something stupid, but then laughed along with him. The way you’d ruffle his hair as he laid in with his head nuzzled in your chest. The way you’d rush into school so fast, you nearly knocked him over when you found him. Those dreams, or more so, memories kept him going. And now he had nothing.

He was stuck in a world without you. And at a certain point, he wondered if it was even worth living in. He was wrong. He used to think that good things happened to good people, but he was wrong. You were as good as it got and you still ended up in the ground.

“Peter,” Sam said from the other side of the call, “you gotta come to the compound.” He hung up before Peter could even get a word in, but when he arrived at the building, he understood why.

Sam met him at the door, tears crusted around his dark eyes, and the look he gave Peter evoked immediate dread.

Peter could hear Pepper’s screaming sobs from inside. The cries of all the Avengers filtered through his ears into his head like nails on a chalkboard. And as unsettling as it was, he knew.

Sam guided him through to the medbay, and part of him secretly hoped he was wrong. It wasn’t until he held your cold hand in his overly warm ones that it hit him. And then the screaming started.

“No,” Peter murmured as the tears began dancing around in his vision, “no, no, no.” Peter shook his head, “I-It’s not her.” He said, but it was more of a terrible wish he put out into the universe, “please, it’s not—no. She’s strong—stronger than that, she wouldn’t—I-I don’t understand.”

Peter whipped his head around and the whole team could see the tears uncontrollably flowing out of his eyes as he heaved. The hyperventilating, mixed with the cries of everyone else in the room was making him nauseous. Before he could properly process what was going on he was running to the window, throwing it open and spewing brown goo out into the yard.

Happy ran over and rubbed his back and shoulder, “It’s okay, Pete. Come on now, breathe.”

Peter screamed and heaved out sobs as more brown chucks spilled from his lips. When he was done, he collapsed into Happy and the large man wrapped his arms around Peter’s shaking frame.

“I–It’s not true,” Peter begged, “Happy—” he pleaded, only to be shushed.

“I know,” Happy cried, “I know it’s hard, Peter. But you have to calm down.”

Tony, having just lost his daughter, saw Peter’s breakdown and left the room. Pepper by his side, drawing her cries out in his t-shirt.

“H-How can I?” Peter wailed, “I want her back, I want her back! (Y/N)!” Peter crawled out of Happy’s embrace, up the bed that held your limp frame. He tugged on the sheet that Bruce had put over your head, ripping it to expose your beautiful face.

“No,” Peter cried, sloppily running his hands over your face, “no, (Y/N).” Peter rubbed his thumbs under your eyes and held his cheek against yours, only feeling the icy prick of your skin on his, “come on, please get up, please. I-I had so many things to tell you. I had s-so much left to—I—I never got to marry you, (Y/N), please. Please d-don’t leave.”

Every watery plea was only met with a painful silence on your end. The only sounds to accompany the dreadful silence were the wails coming from the boy’s mouth.

And now he was here, sitting alone in his room, on the same bed you used to cuddle him in. If he tried really hard, if he focused enough he could still smell the lavender shampoo you used. It was such a little comfort, but it was all he had.

May accompanied Happy to the funeral, letting him rest his head on her as the tears flowed from his eyes.

“She was so special,” Happy recalled with a sniffle, “so special.”

“Yeah,” May whispered, swallowing her own sob, “in more ways than one.” She placed her yellow rose on the casket, blowing a little kiss to it with a small prayer, thank you. Thank you for being Peter’s love.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

✧tags & moots✧ @ptersmj @princessofguineapigs @peterbenjiparker @cherrytholland @itsapeterthing @justapurrcat @thirstiestpotato @kelieah @iovebug  @waitimcomingtoo  @rosyparkers  @parkers-gal @allegra-writes @starktonyx  @celestialholland  @hollandcrush  @londonspidey @blissfulparker @spidernerdsblog @spidey-sophie @spideyspeaches @peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology @andilovetowrite @sinisterspidey @asonofpeter @westcoastcigar @arlo-sanders @love-peterparker @boiolay @letssee2468  @white-wolf1940 @fandom-life-12 @hollandsdream @annathesillyfriend @lovelybarnes @miseryholland @wierdteenagenerd @duskholland @hollandprkr @lauras-collection @arvinsescape @hollandsrecs @worldoftom

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Writing Snippet #10

O Positive

Part 2

Ok so @im-a-wonderling had a FANTASTIC idea for a snippet, but I’m putting the ask below to not cause spoilers lol:)

Special thanks to @im-a-wonderling as well for the beta read, edits, suggestions, and expert medical knowledge to help make this way more realistic than my original draft! You’re amazing!!!

—————————————————

Hero shifted from side to side as she stood in line, fingers clutching a bottle of orange juice.

“Well you’re prepared.” Hero’s head shot up as the attendant waved her forward. “Normally people wait until after to go for the juice.”

She chuckled nervously. “That’s me... prepared.”

“ID?” She scrambled through her wallet, making sure she didn’t grab either of the two aliases she’d already used at different locations that morning.

She would have used the same ID, but last time she’d tried to explain that she healed super fast- a result of her powers- and could donate more, the resulting argument had lasted nearly an hour, with nurses questioning whether her “magic blood” could even be used at all (it was perfectly normal blood thank you very much), and they’d still only let her donate the normal amount.

She handed him the correct ID, and he shoved a clipboard full of paperwork at her. A phlebotomist led her to a reclining chair. Even though she’d filled out the information twice that morning, it still took approximately twelve years to finish the stack of forms. The phlebotomist returned, and began asking her an equally long list of questions. She only half paid attention to the stream of questions.

Have you received any blood transfusions?

No.

Have you traveled in the last 6 months?

No.

Are you free of HIV or any other blood diseases?

Yes.

Have you ever been pregnant?

Yes.

Wait! No!

The phlebotomist chuckled as she snapped on a pair of gloves. “Ok let’s see that arm.” Hero held out her mark-free arm. After the first donation that morning, the needle mark and resulting bruise had been gone in a matter of minutes. After the second, she’d had to wait over thirty minutes before the signs of her deception to fade. The phlebotomist wrapped a tourniquet above her elbow before consulting her paperwork.

“It says here you’d like to do a double donation?”

“Yes.”

“You have to be 150lbs in order to donate that much sweetie.” The older woman eyed Hero dubiously.

Her throat went dry. “I know. I am.”

“I’m just going to take one bag today; you’re looking a little pale, honey.”

“But the other phlebotomist let me—”She cut off and cleared her throat. “I mean, last time I donated. It was fine.”

The phlebotomist shook her head as she felt the inside of Hero’s arm for the vein.

Hero forced a cheery smile. “This is important. I’ll be fine.”

By tomorrow, she added silently. Or the day after that...

Last time she’d only been able to get in one regular and one double donation before she’d gotten called into help with a work emergency. She’d spent the rest of the day in bed, but had woken up fine the next morning. Of course, that was only half the amount of blood...

The woman narrowed her eyes before shaking her head.

“The shortage is the worst it’s been in years, but I’m only going to take one bag today.”

“But—”

“Unless you’d like to go stand on that scale over there?”

Hero blanched, then mutely shook her head.

The woman muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I thought not,’ before raising her voice to a normal volume. “And make sure to take it easy and drink that orange juice you’ve got there.” She nodded at the bottle in Hero’s hand as she swabbed her arm with an alcohol wipe and picked up a needle.

“I will.”

————— 30 minutes (or so) later —————

Hero made it ten steps out of the building before she collapsed against the wall, head swimming. She peeled the tape and cotton ball off her arm. Blood immediately began to trickle down her forearm.

She struggled to unscrew the cap of her juice, hands shaking. Finally, she succeeded, the cap slipping through her fingers and bouncing against the sidewalk. She brought the bottle to her lips, but only managed a few sips before her stomach revolted. She clamped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes, willing herself not to throw up.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall, ignoring the curious stares from pedestrians on the crowded downtown street.

She needed to get home.

A quaking boom shook the ground, and Hero cracked open her eyes to see a plume of smoke a few blocks over.

Most likely the bank on main. Or the diamond store next door.

She took a step towards the plume of smoke, but the ground was still rocking, and she had a feeling it wasn’t from the explosion. She closed her eyes as panicked civilians began running to and fro.

Her phone rang out in a pealing tone, sending her a foot into the air, her orange juice falling to the ground with a sticky splash.

The emergency line.

Groaning, she accepted the call.

“Hero! Villain just set off a bomb on Main Street.”

“Diamonds or bank vault?”

“BOTH! You need to get over there now!”

Hero covered her eyes. She wanted to, she really did. If only the ground would stop moving.

“It’s my day off. Send Other Hero.” She cringed at her seemingly callous words, but she didn’t think the Hero Agency would exactly condone what she’d just done.

Even if she was just trying to save lives.

“Other Hero is undercover spying on Supervillain. Your phone shows you are six blocks away. That will take you 12 seconds to get your speedy butt over there.”

A second explosion rocked the ground.

Oh he didn’t. Hero growled, pushing off the wall and taking a hesitant step forward.

The ground was finally still. Much better. She pulled out the spare mask she always kept in her purse and fitted it across her eyes.

12 seconds, she scoffed.

————— 9 (and a half) seconds later————

Hero skidded to a halt in front of the shattered front windows of Pristine Diamonds.

The windows of the bank next door were in a similar condition. She rested a hand against the ash stained wall, gasping as the world spun.

She forced her head up, scanning the scene. A gaping hole had been blown in the wall connecting the two businesses, and smoke was still pouring out of both buildings. She darted into the diamond store, moving without her super speed through the black air. She made it to the back of the store, where the massive safe stood empty, the door hanging drunkenly off one hinge.

She cursed and made her way to the jagged hole. She was halfway across the bank lobby when a figure leapt from the smoke and she was thrown to the side.

She scrambled to her feet as Villain faded back into the smoke. His laughter echoed around her as she spun in desperate circles. The smoke thickened until it was nearly solid around her.

“You’re slow today, Hero.” The voice rang out behind her, and she whirled around, but there was nothing but smoke.

Her vision was truly swimming now. She swiped at her eyes. “And you’re extravagant. You can create smoke from nothing, you didn’t actually need to set off a bomb.”

“I was creating a passage between the businesses. They should thank me.” The voice was to her right, and she spun again. There was no point in super speed if she couldn’t see. Her head was starting to pound.

“And that outfit.” The whisper brushed against her neck, and she whirled around again, only to see the smoke curling in around the place where Villain had just stood.

She glanced down self-consciously at her pink shorts and baggy tie-dye T-shirt.

“You already ruined my day off. There’s no need to mock my clothes as well.” She huffed, taking determined strides in the direction she hoped was the door.

“Who said I was mocking?”

She sensed him behind her the instant before he attacked. She spun. He hit. She flew. Across the room. To the floor. Over chunks of rubble. And into a brick wall.

Her back cracked against the wall, knocking the air from her lungs.

Smoke swirled through the air as Villain emerged, the dark tendrils receding to lap at his heels.

He looked surprised; he’d never actually managed to land a blow that direct before.

Hero forced herself off the ground. It was time to retreat. She summoned her powers, but between her swimming head and the sharp pain in her leg, she made it only a few feet before sinking back to the ground with a quiet whimper of pain.

She forced her blurry gaze up to Villain, who was regarding her with a strange expression on his face.

“I thought you healed as fast as you can run.”

She blinked, and realized he wasn’t looking at her, but at her leg.

She looked down. Blood seeped from a long shallow gash on the outside of her calf, no doubt from a sharp piece of rubble.

Smaller cuts and bruises covered the rest of her body, and none of them were healing.

“That’s strange.” She wiped clumsily at the cut.

Villain’s eyes narrowed. “You seem oddly off your game, Hero. You haven’t lost that much blood.”

She mustered the energy to glare at Villain. “I did tell you this was my day off.”

“I wonder if it’s from the blood earlier.” She mused, floating on a hazy cloud.

The tendrils of smoke scattered as Villain knelt down beside her.

“What blood? You came to fight me when you were already injured?”

His voice sounded as though he was speaking through a tunnel.

“There’s a national blood shortage. Worst it’s been in years.”

“So?”

“So, I donated.”

Villain scoffed as he produced a cloth from somewhere and began wrapping it around her leg. “You have regenerative healing powers, a pint of blood wouldn’t have made you this weak.”

Hero shook her head and weakly held up five fingers.

Villain froze. “FIVE PINTS OF BLOOD!” He roared, smoke dancing angrily around them. “ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY INSANE!? YOU SHOULD BE DEAD RIGHT NOW!”

Her head throbbed with every word, and she flinched away.

“I heal fast.” It was barely a whisper, but his fiery eyes met hers.

“I don’t care how fast you heal. No one can survive losing half their blood.” At least now his rage was contained to a low snarl. He grabbed Hero’s hands and pulled her to her feet.

“Your hands are freezing! What were you thinking!? Why would you face me after donating that much blood?!? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

He continued to seethe as he swept Hero into his arms and strode through the bank. He paused only to swing a bulging duffle bag onto one shoulder before he swept out through a second gaping hole into a back alley. A dark SUV was waiting in the shadows. He tossed the bag into the back and slid Hero into the passenger seat.

She curled against the warm leather.

“I was just trying to help.” She mumbled, her voice muffled as she spoke into the headrest.

“I know.” A hand ran down her hair. “Close your eyes. Sleep.”

She forced her eyes wider, remembering. “I can’t. I have a job to do.”

Villain shut her door and rounded the car to the driver’s side. Slipping into place, he started the engine.

“Not today.” He managed a small smile even as his eyes crinkled in concern.

“It’s your day off, remember?”

Original request from @im-a-wonderling:

“I started thinking about a story where the hero donates blood and then the villain does something that the hero has to go and face them. The villain notices the hero is off their game, but assumes they’re just tired or something. Then, the hero gets injured. The injury is really minor in terms of blood loss, but the hero is pale and sickly and can’t stand up and the villain gets all protective like “WHY would you come and FACE ME if you DONATED BLOOD today?!” And the hero mumbles “They’re having a blood shortage.” And the villain is ready to wring the hero’s neck for not taking care of themselves. So they just scoop the hero up in their arms and brings them back to their lair to feed them and let them sleep.”

Again thanks so much for the request!! I hope I did it justice:)

[kurokoros]

asphyxia | 00. prologue

Rated: M (violence, language, etc)

Words: 1.5K

Pairing: kuroo x afab!reader (not in the prologue)

Summary: Aggressive mimicry. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. It’s hard to recognize something as a monster when it looks just like you.

You just never expected him to be one.

After narrowly surviving a deadly encounter with a ghoul, creatures that look human but can only survive by consuming human flesh, you’re exposed to a world you were never meant to be involved in. Meanwhile, a binge eating ghoul has begun terrorizing the Nerima Ward, leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. [tokyo ghoul!au]

AN: Was this written for the cummunity tender/taboo collab? Yes. Am I extremely late with little to show for it? Also yes. This is a multi-part fic now. I haven’t posted anything in over a year. Had a crisis writing this. Bon appetite!

➤ Tender/Taboo Masterlist 

➤ Asphyxia Masterlist

Warnings: violence, gore, implied cannibalism, implied abuse and kidnapping

The job went wrong nearly as soon as it started.

It was supposed to be simple. A routine tracking mission, just like the others they’ve done before. It’s not easy finding someone in Tokyo, but they’d gotten good at it. No one could stay hidden from them for long. This job should have been no different.

Then Ota Ward went under lockdown.

Glass crunches beneath his boots as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other, fingers drumming against his thigh and beating an uneasy staccato rhythm. Outside, the downpour has only gotten worse. Rain beats against the tile roof, and each clack causes his irritation to grow.

For two weeks, they hid in plain sight. Watched the number of Doves grow in preparation for a raid. Kept narrowing in on their target as they tried not to get caught. Difficult, but not impossible. Maybe that made them cocky. They should have pulled out right away. Should have contacted their boss and waited until the Doves left, but by then they’d tracked their target to a half-mile radius and he hadn’t wanted to leave without finishing the job.

The Doves cornered them. It had been raining all day, and they were caught off guard.

“Fucking Doves,” he sneers, leaning back against a wall covered in peeling paint. Even inside, he doesn’t dare remove his mask, and the skeletal mouth twisted into a fanged snarl does well to hide the mirrored curl of his lips. Jawbone, the investigators have started calling him, his mask the only discernable feature they can make out in the darkness. Red eyes glowing beneath his hood and that sneering, skeletal grin.

Jawbone’s head rolls to the side. “All right, Piero?”

He looks down at his partner, still resting on the floor where Jawbone set him earlier. The other man makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, but otherwise doesn’t answer. Behind the white and gold harlequin mask he wears, it’s impossible to gauge Piero’s expression as he prods at the dark stain on his thigh. His fingertips come away red.

Eventually, Piero shrugs. Remaining silent, he casts his gaze around the room, taking in the sight as Jawbone continues to swear under his breath.

Thin cracks are spread across the walls like veins, stretching out behind the layers of graffiti and grime. The building they broke into is an old apartment complex, left abandoned in the middle of Tokyo. It’s unkempt. Shards of broken glass on the floors. Dirt and debris. Furniture left to decay. And there’s a musky smell in the air. Mold. But beneath that something else. Something rotten.

Piero’s nose wrinkles.

Beneath him, the floor is slick with blood.

Jawbone yanks his phone from his pocket. Seeing that it’s dead, he snarls a curse under his breath and kicks at a corroded piece of wood on the floor, sending it hurtling across the room as his temper boils over. It smashes against the far wall and splinters into pieces with a loud crack.

Piero stiffens. Widened eyes slide to the far corner of the room, where a lone closet is built into the wall. His back is stiff, muscles tensing, but he doesn’t dare turn his head. Jawbone doesn’t seem to notice the odd reaction. Continuing to swear under his breath, he turns his back on the room, glaring out the window, but Piero doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

It was quiet. Nearly imperceptible beneath the downpour beating against the tiles on the roof and the howling wind and the string of curses from beside him, but he heard it. Small and muffled.

Piero cocks his head to the side, still unblinking. “There’s someone here.”

To his left, Jawbone’s eyes narrow beneath his hood. It’s his only noticeable reaction to Piero’s observation, made too low for anyone but him to hear. “One of us?” he asks, watching Piero out of the corner of his eye.

That smirking harlequin mask stares back at him blankly. Piero shakes his head.

“A Dove?”

A shrug, this time.

Jawbone swears again. “Don’t move.” Turning his back on the window, he storms across the room, leaving Piero on the floor. Those empty harlequin eyes burn into his back, but Piero stays where he is, content to listen and wait. It’s easier if he stays out of the way.

This time, Jawbone hears it, too.

The soft hitch of a breath—a muffled sob.

Lip curling, he reaches for the edge of the door, open just a crack.

It’s the smell that hits him first. Beneath the layers of mold and musk, there’s something pungent. The familiarity of it makes his stomach roll. There were rats, once, in the apartment where he lived as a child. They used to crawl into tight spaces and smother themselves. He’d only find them when the carcasses start to decay, when the smell became so bad it made his stomach sick.

There’s a moment of hesitation before Jawbone rips open the sliding door, nearly tearing it from the wall.

Big, brown eyes stare back at him, pupils constricted into pinpricks.

A woman.

She cowers back against the wall when the door is ripped open, trembling. An involuntary sound escapes her, muffled by the hands clasped over her mouth tightly in a vain attempt to smother the uncontrollable string of whimpers and sobs wracking her frame. Tears drip down her cheeks, leaving tracks in the dirt on her face. She’s filthy, covered in grime, her chestnut hair matted and stringy with grease and dirt. When she curls her legs closer to her chest, there’s a metallic scraping sound, and his eyes drop to the chain locked around her ankle.

The chain jingles as she forces her back tighter against the wall. Jawbone follows it to the opposite side of the closet, where the other end is locked around a metal post. There’s something else there, too. A mass that’s hunched on the ground in a heap, unmoving.

The taste of decay and rotting flesh crawls down his throat.

“What the hell?” he chokes out, stumbling backwards a step. His gaze snaps away from the mutilated corpse in the corner, hacked to pieces and barely recognizable. Her hands are covered in blood, he notices for the first time. Little rivets trailing down her bare arms, startlingly bright against her sickly pale skin.

Her expression shifts when she sees him. Relief mixing with raw fear. Still shaking, her hands drop into her lap, revealing a mouth that’s smeared with gore. “Help me,” she pleads in a voice that’s barely louder than a whisper.

Behind Jawbone, Piero suddenly lurches to his feet.

“Tora—”

The front door is smashed open. Wood splinters outwards. A mass of pulsing, red flesh bursts into the room. Jawbone’s arm snaps up to cover his face as he stumbles backwards away from the door. The muscles beneath his shoulder flex. Livid tissue bursts from his back and crawls up his arm.

It’s not fast enough.

The woman in the closet makes a strangled sound as Jawbone is speared through the chest and tossed sideways into the wall. It caves under his weight. He grunts as he slams onto the floor in the adjacent room, choking on the blood and saliva in his mouth.

A masked figure steps through the splintered door only to stop when a barrage of ruby crystals embeds itself in the wood on either side of him. Crystal shards burrow into his forearm, piercing through his skin. When he lowers his arm again, the room is empty.

In the closet, the woman presses flush against the grimy wall, curling her legs to her chest to make herself smaller as heavy footsteps cross the room. Tears leak out from the corners of her eyes, squeezed shut tightly in a feeble attempt to make things stop. She squeals when she’s suddenly yanked forward by her ankle, dragged by the chain. Caught off guard, her head slams backwards into the wall. Her eyes snap open.

Red eyes stare back at her from behind the face of a jackal.

He tilts his head to the side, looking at her for a second before lashing out. Her teeth grind together as he grabs her by the jaw, fingers digging into her cheeks.

“Please,” she gasps. “Yu—”

His thumb rubs against her skin, smearing blood and tissue. He tilts his mask up with his other hand. “You should eat, Dove,” he says, releasing her. As he stands, he places the tip of his thumb between his lips, licking it clean. “Before I get back.”

Without another word, he turns away from her, stalking over to the hole in the wall. He chuckles when he sees the room is empty, blood staining the floor where he tossed Jawbone. There’s blood pooled under the window, too.

“All right,” he muses, pulling his mask back down before shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark coat. “Let’s play.”

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

All the time in what's left of the world | 28 Days Later!Jim x Reader (Oneshot)

Words: 1776

Warnings: Mention of death, slight innuendos

A/N: I'm surprised I hadn't written for him sooner, but I needed something to write to take a break from the other series I've been writing.

-

When the outbreak of the Rage virus happened, you tried calling your loved ones. Some answered and were rushing to get on the next flight or boat ride off the island. Some never picked up. You were glad that your parents had moved to the States to be with the other family members. When you called, they said that they were fine and that only the UK seemed to be affected. For now. While your parents were safe, those words also meant that the government was going to shut down the whole country into quarantine. There would be no point in trying to get out.

Your friend, Jim, had been in a coma for days after his accident and you had been by his side almost every day if your job had allowed it. When the doctor assured you that you and his parents would be notified as soon as he woke up, you had left to focus on yourself more and catch up with your work. Jim’s parents used to call every day, asking if he woke up. They lived a little ways from the hospital, so they relied on you for updates when they couldn’t go. You always told them the same thing, just that his injuries had been healing properly and that he should be waking up any time now.

Assuming that the hospital would have some kind of quarantine protocol that could keep him safe, you decided to look for each and every friend or distant relative in the area, hoping to find someone when they stopped answering their phones. Travelling had become scarier the more the virus had spread. And if it wasn’t for the infected chasing after you, it was the living wanting to scavenge off of you. Your car was long gone within a week of the outbreak and had to search for a bicycle for the trip.

You couldn’t find anyone. They either left in a hurry or got attacked by the infected on their way out. News of the infection spreading to other countries reached the radio and news channels until they, too, were gone. With your hopes of finding any allies on your side dwindling, you went straight for Jim’s parent’s house. They weren’t answering their phone either, but you hoped that being away from London would have at least meant that the virus took longer to reach them. It was optimistic, but you were also reminded that it had been almost a month since the outbreak and everything happened so fast.

His parents had told you where the spare key was, so you had no problem getting in. Parking your bike at the front, you spotted Jim’s old bikes that his parents had kept over the years. He had been the one to teach you how to ride a bike and you weren’t too surprised when you found out he had taken a job as a bike courier. Jim always liked living simple.

The silence was ringing in your ears as you crept through the house. You were afraid to call out in case there were nearby infected, or worse. You searched each room, memories of when it was lived in coming in flashes until you reached upstairs to their room. A chill was already running up your spine as you spotted their door closed, a rotting smell leaking through the cracks of the door. Opening it slowly, your eyes swept the room until they landed on the bed. Your hand flew to your mouth as you collapsed on the floor, stifling your sobs.

You couldn’t bear to be near the room anymore and not even daring to go in, rushing down the steps. It wasn’t until you almost tripped over the last two steps did you take a deep breath and come to your senses, the whole thing feeling like a twisted nightmare until now. Everything was real, the virus, the killings, the bodies all around the country. There was no way to get out of it. Unless foreign aid came to help stop the virus, you didn’t see a way for this nightmare to end any time soon.

Seeing the sun going down outside, you reluctantly decided to stay the night at the house, gathering supplies around the place before dredging back up the stairs. You paused at the landing, willing yourself in avoiding looking anywhere near that room and made your way straight to Jim’s old room. His mother was always tidy, but after turning on the desk light, you could see the thin layer of dust that had settled within the past month.

You locked the door and dragged a chair under the door knob before flopping tiredly onto the bed. Staring up at the ceiling with Jim’s old posters lining the wall, you could still picture yourself with Jim lounging around in his room attempting homework while talking about everything and nothing. When you used to sleep over, you would share the bed with ease until you both got a little older and a little more uncomfortable with it. There was one late night, though, where he laid next to you on the bed.

He buried his face in your shoulder and whispered, “I don’t want you to go.”

It was the night before you moved away to go to college. You couldn’t say anything.

Growing up, he had been the more expressive of the two of you until he got older and was told that real men didn’t cry. There were times where he let his anger take hold of him and lash out on you and you’d fight back, but you both hated it. He’d run away with tears streaking down his cheeks while you had to break away and let the anger simmer out until the emotions finally sunk in and overwhelm you as well.

When you both calmed down, you were always able to find him. Eventually, the two of you had a talk and sorted things out. That was the closest that your friendship had been to breaking. Back then, that had been the scariest and nearly heartbreaking thing to have happened to you.

A loud bang had jerked you awake, setting your body into shock as your heart began to race. You grabbed the machete that you found among the old family camping gear and strapped your backpack on you. The noise paused, followed by some shuffling.

“Stop making all that noise!” a woman hissed. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Wait, I just need to grab something from my room before we go,” came a familiar voice.

Another man sighed. “We can just leave him.”

“You’ve got less than ten minutes, then we’re leaving. With or without you,” the woman said.

After the two pairs of footsteps disappeared down the stairs, Jim sighed and tried the door knob again. You approached the door slowly, pulling the chair away before opening the door. Even with his uneven dark hair and unkempt beard, you could recognize your best friend anywhere.

His blue eyes widened when he realized what he was seeing in front of him. He reached a hand out to touch your face, squeezing your cheeks together. You pinched him, making him bite down a yelp as he flinched away. You reached over to squeeze his cheeks, too, ending it with a slap. His smile brightened up his face as he pulled you into a tight hug.

“I thought you were dead,” he muttered into your hair. “My… my mom and dad… they-”

“I know. I saw. I’m so sorry, Jimmy.”

The footsteps returned, the woman stared at the two of you with a neutral expression. “It’s too dark to go to the shops. We’ll have to sleep here for the night.”

Jim nodded. His head had been in a daze until he found out you were still alive. It was all still much to take in, but with you around, he felt more grounded with all things considered.

“You and Mark can take my room. We can sleep downstairs,” Jim offered.

The woman glanced in the room. “We’ll sleep in the same room. It’s safer.” She walked over to you and nodded. “I’m Selena and that idiot downstairs is Mark. It’s a good thing we were there when your boyfriend was being chased down.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you muttered, but she ignored it, turning around to get Mark.

“You and Selena can take the bed,” Jim said, going in to clear up the space.

“No need,” Selena said, climbing back up the stairs, “We’ll take the floor and you lovebirds can get the bed.”

“Don’t get too carried away, though,” Mark teased.

Jim grimaced, obviously not a fan of Mark’s type of humor. Selena scoffed, setting her things down in one corner of the room. Mark was used to Selena’s serious demeanor and simply chuckled, slapping Jim’s back before pushing past the two of you into the room. You shook your head, your hand raising up to run through his messy hair where it had grown around his stitching.

“Does it look that bad?” Jim asked in amusement.

“I guess it doesn’t matter during a zombie apocalypse if you look good or not,” you teased.

Once everyone was settled down in their own corners, you and Jim adjusted yourselves on the bed. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and sighed, passing it over to you. In his mother’s handwriting, it said: “Jim - with endless love, we left you sleeping. Now we’re sleeping with you. Don’t wake up.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have woken up to this… this nightmare.” His eyes were shut as he rubbed his temples. “First thing I saw was being alone, naked in the hospital bed. The whole building was empty and everything was just a mess. You weren’t there and I knew that you had always been there because I could hear you.”

“You could?” you whispered back.

Jim hummed and nodded.

“Could you hear my snoring?”

That made him snort. He shook his head at your attempt of lifting the mood before shifting around to lay on his side to face you. He leaned into you, slinging an arm across your stomach, very reminiscent of your last night here in his bedroom. Even after you had reconnected after college, life never made time for the two of you to spend time together like this. Now, with a raging virus spreading around the world, it seemed that any time would be the last time. You hope that would not be the case, that the two of you would find a way to get out of this alive.

[ackerpreach]

This ending .... I can name 500 reasons and I will name them right now, because I don’t think I’m the only one who is upset with how things turned out. (Also, A positive message for all of you at the end)

MAJOR LEAKS SPOILERS/ READ WITH CAUTION

Update: after reading more theories from fellow RM bloggers, and sleeping over it one day, this entire chapter might be an april fools... Don't fully lose hope yet beautiful people. It's me just giving a review on a possible fake April fools chapter

After following this franchise since 2013, so nearly a DECADE. this ending is a pure disserve to the entire fandom. I feel like Yams has rushed it just for the sake of being done with the entire manga. So many things are left open, characters and their developemt are reverted back all the way to chapter 1 or are left even worse than that...

Mikasa’s worthless character development/ Aaronmika’s horrible toxic codependent relationship 

Oh honey... Let’s start with how horrible Isayama has treated her. We were all rooting for her, because we all felt like she was so misunderstood. She had a horrible childhood and imprinted on a guy who treated her like trash 99 percent of the story. And then, slowly but surely, she starts to realize she has to stop obsessing over him in the uprising arc with the help of a real man who treats her like a queen, more importantly, he treats her like a real human being. This man sees her for her abilities and that she has the power to be self dependent. She learned parts of herself, that she was able to work together with him like no one else could.  She learned parts of herself she was unable to do so if she kept obsessing about Aaron. All this love, care, mutual understanding and RESPECT these two shared. 

but...NAH FUCK THAT, right Yams?? Throw all this development away, all this bonding. Let’s make the main female lead even more yandere than she already was in the first season. Let her make out with his decapacitated head (like dude, this is also pure disrespect to Aaron’s dead body btw) and let her obsess even more about the guy who has treated her no better than a piece of toilet cloth 99 percent of the time. The guy who was never really appreciative in front of her for saving his ass billions of times, who always pushed her away, who yells at her and snaps at her whenever he can instead of reasoning and talking calmly with her in mature way. (EVEN PARODY YOUTUBE CHANNELS WHO DONT SHIP ANYTHING MAKE IT A TROPE WHERE AARON TELLS MIKASA HE HATES HER GUTS WHENEVER HE CAN) 

Then after all that, suddenly Yams tries to last minute persuade us Aaron’s always been head over heels for her???  He should have build their relationship better which he hasn’t even tried to do so... He must be thinking his fans are stupid for eating this from his hands.    

Like seriously??? What is this??? 

Isayama is just fully contradicting himself. It’s like someone tipped him off with a buttload of money for him to write Aaron like this to satisfy shipping needs and to cash in those extra money’s from it. Even if he tried to cater to Erem*ika, this is not how you write a loving and caring couple which people will root for. 

This next two panels just freaking infuriates me to the core of my soul. I can’t even describe how dissapointed I am with Mikasa. 

Why is she clutching that head so obsessively like that?  Why is she walking and turning her back away from her comrades? After everything they have done for her, after all they’ve been through?! After everything Armin has done? Standing up for Mikasa, beating up Aaron for hurting her. I feel like even Jean, Connie and Sasha have cared more for her in a healthy way.  Sure, Aaron cares for her romantically too apparently (What a twist Yams :)), but has he aided her to becoming a mentally healthier individual? Has he aided in her mental stability? The answer is a big fat NO!  All I see between these two after today’s raw Chapter’s are too Yandere obsessed individuals who have no clue on how to maintain a healthy relationship. 

Love should only go as far as the heart can endure and it seems like her character is not willing to be aware of that. Even Armin was able to let go of Aaron in those latest panels. Why does her entire character resolve around this guy??? I really do not understand. Her Ackerbond and her age is not an excuse for her to throw her life away like this. 

Shonen’s disgusting portrayal of women 

I’ve seen this countless of times in the many years I’ve watched anime. SasuS*ku from Naruto, Ichih*me from Bleach, Shinji and that oranged hair girl from Neon Evangelion.. Why do these women get decreased to simpletons with one single goal? And that is to obsess over a bland male lead who either treats them like trash or doesn’t notice them up until the last last chapter (LITERALLY WHAT YAMS HAS DONE). Some go even as far as the male leading wanting the kill the female love interest and yet the female lead is still in love with them???. It’s disgusting for him to write the MAIN female character this way. 

It’s dissapointing we believed in Isayama doing Mikasa’s character right. That she’s finally being able to let go of her codependency and to live for herself maybe live in Hizuru and find more about her roots???, but every single time she shows some improvement, it’s burried deep in the ground again by the Author. It almost seems like a lowkey kink of some of the male Mangaka’s to write about a girl obsessing over them no matter what. I see this so many times to the point that I truly stand behind it that some of them might have this fantasy. 

I wished he didn’t portray her last panels like this. Everyone else is living their lives while Mikasa is still grieving about him. I’m not saying she’s not allowed to grieve and everyone takes it at their own pace, but cmon... Show her living her life too. This is too much. Her being next to his grave and grieving him as her last panels just shoves it in our faces that YET AGAIN, BEING OBSESSED WITH AARON IS ALL HER CHARACTER STANDS FOR. 

I truly despise how Isayama handles her grieving, kissing his decapacitated head, carrying it around like some handbag, and her last panels being thissss.

The world leaving Paradis alone miraciously after all that??? 

It’s so weird and out of place with so many political feuds and disagreements between the world and Paradis, the entire Rumbling happening and we can see Mikasa just chilling outside in Paradis with no one bothering them. You can see the rings of the walls in the picture below.  I don’t know the exact reason behind as the manga is still in Korean, but from what I see, the story went the route of: throwing a happy ending without enough proper reason and  it was all fixed just like that in a snap! It doesn’t fit the entire narrative of attack on titan for things to be so peacful out of nowhere. When it comes to the narrative, how things work in that world, how hard it is to achieve peace, everything made somewhat sense up until chapter 138. 139 seems so so out of place...  It’s like I’m reading a chapter from a totally different manga. 

Aaron Yoghurt got defeated so easily/ Aaron’s character assassination

The build up on the first part of the rumbling was great, those kids carrying coins. You could feel humanity’s fear and Aaron’s hatred in those pages. As if he truly had a goal and he has turned away completely from his comrades and his closest friends with no return. The world seemed truly doomed, but he  got defeated just like that. He was in the nape all this time (because screw the warhammer power of hiding yourself elsewhere in his ginormous titan body). There is no master plan as we all expected, and in the end he just acts all yandere in the paths with Armin and that’s it... They massacared his entire character as well. Many fan theories created a better ending with his character. Him being reincarnated as Historia’s baby would be so much better. For him to still keep on seeking and to strive for power. It has always been his motive. It’s his personality from the start until chapter 138. Even if things are okay, to keep on going and to seek that adventure, but then.. He’s so weak and directionless suddenly.. It’s so weird... This is not Aaron at all???

Using Aaron for him this entire post, because I don’t want others to invade our tags... :)))

Historia’s baby 

The only panel we got from Historia’s child was this. Just a normal kid, normal life... Why did Isayama put so much effort in highlighting Historia’s pregnancy if it was nothing too spectacular anyway? It seemed he had major plans for this kid and for their development too??? It’s again, big plans, big developments, big relationship dynamic, but all  got thrown out of the window... 

Don’t read the next sentence if you are a minor :’) 

It’s like almost ejaculating, but stopping right before it and repeating that every single Arc.

My energy when writing about this chapter is the same as Nostalgia Critic and his hatred for atla the live action

In Conclusion...

I know us fans should not be deciding on how this story should end, because this is Isayama’s story after all, but I truly wished for him to wrap up things much more rounded. There are so many unanswered questions... Again, I think for the sake of being done with this manga, he rushed all of it. He’s become a millionaire from this story and now his pockets are jammed full, I guess he doesn’t need to put in any effort anymore, right? Perhaps a controversial opinion, but I really wished he cared for his fans a little bit more with this last chapter by giving some answers that make sense at least. It’s his fans who gave him this platform and the opportunity to tell his story and for him to at least give in a bit of effort especially in the last chapter is the least he can do. Rivamika being canon or not, he truly rushed it without thinking much about the entire story line. He expanded it so much, he didn’t know how to bind it all together.

Even after all this, I’ll still ship them in the headcanon type of way. I do give credit to Isayama for giving us a template for such a beautiful dynamic between Levi and Mikasa. He decides to waste it, but that doesn’t mean we have to.  I want to thank all the people with amazing writing skills, the ones who give us beautiful art like @carmenlee @phit chan @vialesana​ and many more. I want to remind all of you that we can create something beautiful of our own and we don’t neccesarily need canon lore for that. The art I’ve seen, the fanfictions I’ve read have touched me deeper than Isayama ever could at times.The Mikasa in our mind is appreciate of Levi, is mature, classy and has a strong will for herself. They spend their remaining days together peacefully. Keep writing, keep drawing, stay creative. 

I love you all so so much, I’ve only been publicly active since March, but thank you Rivamika fandom for giving me so much joy as a lurker these past 7 years <3

[shurisneakers]

shut in [1]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Gender Neutral Reader)

Warnings: cursing, violence, guns, death

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: greetings. i have returned with a series that i have actually finished writing beforehand so i just have to post the chapters and yes this means i will not let this go incomplete  shoutout to my bitch @midnightsunfae​ for putting up w me mwah lov u if i’ve completely butchered sam’s character, tell me so i can delete my entire account pls and thanks 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Shut In Masterlist || Main Masterlist

“Alexander Pierce.” The file fell on the table with a resounding thud.

“What about him?”

“I want him dead.”

The house stood tall; obnoxious, almost, with loud embellishments of gold. It screamed wealth spent lavishly and without any reasonable thought.

Also it was ugly.

You scaled the gate, landing on the gravel silently. There were no security measures that you could see beyond the automated entry and CCTV whose light wasn’t blinking. Must have been a power outage. An unlikely coincidence, but it just made your job easier.

You made a move towards the side of the house, staying close to the trees that lined the driveway, out of the direct line of sight of the house’s front door. 

His car was parked outside; a swanky looking race car kept outside just for show. He was definitely at home.

A window at the side of the mansion was left slightly ajar. A quick sweep up the side of the house proved that the rest of them were shut.

Your eyebrow quirked up in suspicion, quickly taking a look around to see if you were being watched. For a few seconds the world didn’t seem to move, eerily silent other than the rustling of leaves.

Pierce was clearly the flagbearer of home security.

You stuffed your gun into the waistband of your pants, freeing both your hands to tug yourself into the room.

Your gun found its way into your hand once more as you scanned the room. He wasn’t on the bed. You deemed the silence as an indicator to safely to move ahead. 

So far it seemed easy.

Too easy?

Ransone’s body was spread across his chair, leisurely stroking at his stubble. His other hand thrummed rhythmically at the timber in front of him. His eyes were glazed over; physically present but mind wandering elsewhere.

You waited for him to explain further, knowing better than to interrupt his train of thought.

He had the strangest penchant for drama and theatre. From what you could gather of the dim light in the room and his stance, he had just watched The Godfather. Again.

“Do you know how long it took me to build this business?” His words sounded like a musing, akin to a private thought he was letting you in on. “This empire, Y/N?”

“Twenty three years.” Your arms were crossed behind you, a sign of discipline he demanded from all members of the organisation. 

“And I haven’t gotten there by being the neighbourhood church boy.” He gestured to one of the two men beside him, a rifle strung across their back at the ready. One of them-- Rumlow--  stepped forward, lighting a cigar and handing it to him.

He took a long drag, taking his time to exhale, flicking at the cigar to get rid of the loose ash. If he just got to the point, you could have left about twenty minutes ago.

“I’ve done terrible things,” he admitted, “but you know? I won’t be blamed for them. A bit of collateral damage was inevitable.”

His chair swayed from side to side as his feet thumped at the table. It annoyed you endlessly. You never told him.

“And you know how I feel about collateral damage, right?”

“Show no mercy.”

The house was silent, except for the faint sound of the television some distance away. You wouldn’t have been able to see if not for the moonlight that illuminated the space through the large windows.

Your gun pressed tightly to your side, you made your way down the open hallway. As you passed by the kitchen, the ticking of the timer on the oven made you pause. The oven itself wasn’t on but the clock was still ticking.

A bowl was kept on the marble island separating the rest of the hall from the kitchen. A pair of car keys lay mangled among a couple of dollar bills and loose change like he threw it in carelessly. 

Continuing further down the hall, you came to the realisation that it culminated in a room that faced his backyard. Only a single glass sheet acted as a barrier between him and the outdoors.

You could hear the show getting louder, hidden from your line of sight by the couch in front of it.

Pierce’s head faced away from you and towards the only light source in the room. He hadn’t heard you come in.

From what you could see, he was asleep. Head slumped slightly, arm slinked over the backrest and no other movement.

It wasn’t actually a TV, just an iPad on its loudest setting with Netflix playing what looked like Horrible Bosses. A man with exquisite taste, obviously.

You took one step at a time, slowly making your way towards the couch until you were just a step or two behind him. You raised your arm, pressing your gun to the back of his head.

“Show no mercy,” he repeated, the corner of his mouth turning upward as he looked at you.

You wanted to shift under his stare. Your muscles were beginning to feel a dull burn, a sign that you had been standing still for too long. 

“So tell me, after all my effort-” he stuck his bottom lip out mockingly- “should I let my fucking company get destroyed by one person?”

His hand harshly slammed down on the table as he lurched forward in his chair, eyes seething.

You nearly jumped at his sudden change in demeanour, knuckles tightening in anticipation.

“Tell me, boys, how far do I tolerate liars?” His stare didn’t waver, looking straight into your eyes.

“You don’t.” Their voices were eerily synchronised. You wondered if they ever rehearsed together. Probably did.

“Lovely.” Ransone smiled, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t.”

“Liars?” Your voice had risen by an octave or two, your surprise catching you off guard.

“Someone has been sneaking information to Serpentine for nearly two years.” A chill ran down your spine, the muscles in your jaw tightening. “They’ve been growing exponentially and someone’s been helpin’ them do it.”

Only someone didn’t fear death would turn their back on him. Someone who had nothing to lose.

“We have reason to believe it’s Pierce.”

A moment passed where you expected him to wake up, turn around and look at you so that you could deliver Ransone’s message to him, a quippy one liner about betrayal or something.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his head shifted under the pressure of your gun, falling over as if it was weightless.

Your face pulled into a frown as you made your way to the front of the couch swiftly, gun still held tightly in front of you.

Your shadow dimmed the light that fell on him from the iPad, but it was impossible to deny.

A single gunshot to the front of his head. Eyes wide open, red from the lack of moisture. The blood around him painted a gory scene that was impossible to notice from behind.

“What the-” you murmured, lowering your arm.

“I can tolerate one mistake. Everyone deserves that.” Ransone shrugged offhandedly. “But this isn’t the first one he’s made.”

“So you want him gone.”

“That would be lovely, yes.” He relaxed into his chair once again, taking another hit from his cigar.

“Why do you want me to do it?” you asked, eyebrows knitted together. Generally he would send you for something more high-profile. Raids, infiltrations. These kinds of hits were what you left behind years ago.

“A spy has security from the ones they’re working for. It’s possibly more dangerous.” His feet found its way onto the table, one over the other as he stretched back. “And I’m not sure my other agent can make it.”

“Thanks,” you spoke monotonously. “Glad to know I’m your first choice.”

“Don’t take it personally.” He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “He probably won’t show.” 

His sleeve fell slightly to reveal a sliver of his tattoo. A spider, the symbol of his authority.

Each of his employees had a web inked on their skin that grew with each passing year of their service. It was how you identified each other in passing.

“You have an opening on Friday. His house help leaves at 8 sharp and he’s alone.”

You nodded, picking up the file in front of him, avoiding his fingers that had returned to thrumming on the tabletop. You acknowledged the two men beside him before making your way toward the door.

This house was all the way across the country. No wonder he gave you a bit more time as compared to usual to prepare.

“It’ll be done.”

The sound of a gun clicking away from you made the hair on your neck stand up.

You sprung up, arms extended in front of you instinctively towards the sound.

Even in the dim light of the room, you could see a man standing a few feet away from you. His hand held a glock, aimed towards you.

Neither of you said a word. Time stood still for all you cared. The only indication that it didn’t was that Horrible Bosses was still playing.

“Who the fuck are you?” you finally asked, voice surprisingly calm for the adrenaline that was spiking through your body.

“Who are you?” he questioned in retaliation, tone curt.

“I asked first.” You wondered if he could see you roll your eyes.

He didn’t reply, obviously.

A beat passed and you almost forgot the dead body that lay near your knees. Almost. It didn’t help that his fingers were nearly touching your leg like some kind of pervert; not that you could blame him for it this time.

“Did you kill him?” he finally relented, mentioning towards him quickly with a tug of his shoulder.

“What-” You recoiled, head slightly jerking back in disbelief. “No. Didn’t you?”

“He was like this when I got here.” He paused, and you let him speak. “And then you came in; thought you were comin’ back to check.”

“I just got here.”

“I can’t confirm that.” His answer was instantaneous, almost cutting you off before you finished.

“And I can’t confirm you didn’t kill him.” You took a step away from Pierce, never breaking his gaze. “The odds are kinda against you here.”

“I didn’t kill him.” He only took a step toward you, making you stop where you were. He wasn’t going to let you get out of this.

“What a compelling argument,” you drawled sarcastically. “Then what are you doing here?”

“Cookin’ him dinner,” he snapped back quickly in a manner that would usually make you smile if it weren’t for the situation you were in presently. “What do you think?”

“Who sent you?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why did they send you?”

“I can’t tell you that either.”

“Then give me a reason why I shouldn’t pull this trigger right now.”

“You first.”

It was a shame you had to kill him. You found his resilience fun.

“Well, it was pleasant-” You were cut off by the sound of a bullet whizzing past your head. It struck the vase next to the couch, instantly exploding into hundreds of shards.

“Did you just fucking shoot at me?” you yelled, swiftly raising your gun so that it was pointed at his forehead.

But he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at the large glass, too distracted to pay heed to what you were saying.

You slowly followed his line of sight to the window.

A large fracture in the glass surrounded a small hole, nearly invisible from your distance if you weren’t looking hard enough.

You looked back at him to find him staring at you.

A split second later the glass sheet shattered, sending the pieces all over the room. You launched yourself behind the couch heavily, avoiding the barrage of bullets being shot your way.

From the corner of your eye you could see the man dive to take cover behind the couch with you.

“What the fuck?” you asked loudly, back pressed against the backrest as various items shattered around you. “Who the hell are these guys?”

“The shittiest bodyguards ever.” He looked over his shoulder but slid back down again when a shot nearly missed his face.

You didn’t even know where to shoot; the bullets just seemed to be coming from the shadows of the trees.

Taking a moment to assess the man breathing hard next to you. He was tall and muscular, a tight fighting shirt stretching across his chest. His hair was cropped, eyes dark with what looked like irritation more than anger. Hot.

Your attention was drawn to a trail of blood left on his forehead as he wiped at it with his forearm, him seemingly unaware of it.

“Dude, I think you got grazed.”

He looked at you questioningly. You pointed at his arm with your shoulder. His eyes dropped to it, letting out a string of curses as he tugged his sleeve back to look at the wound.

He didn’t have to pull it back much before the sight of a familiar design greeted you.

A spider web. Drawn intricately with the lines stretching delicately across his skin like lace.

A tattoo.

“You work for Ransone?” None of this made sense. Why were there two of you on the same mission? Who was this guy? Was he supposed to be here?

You didn’t wait for his answer, pulling your sleeve back to reveal the same tattoo, smaller in size, but indicative enough.

He took a second to process. You could almost see the gears turning in his head.

“Great,” he finally said as a bullet lodged itself in the wall you were facing, bitterness lacing his words. “It’s a set up.”

“Oh, one more thing, Y/N.”

You spun on your heel to look at him. A devilish smile grew on his face.

“Remember- we don’t tolerate liars.”

You stared at him, not uttering a word, waiting for him to make his point.

“So make sure you let him know that.” His smile only grew as you turned around and walked out the door, letting it shut behind you.

The crunching of feet over glass made you look over your shoulder, only to quickly retract before your head was blown off.

They were wearing ski masks and all black tactical suits, leaving not even an inch of their skin uncovered.

“I count four or five. There may be more,” the man next to you said slowly.

“You take the ones on the left, I’ll take right,” you instructed, seeing him nod his head. You didn’t even know his name but apparently you were working together now. 

You gave a small countdown before pivoting on your knee to face them, eyes already set on your target.

Firing off two shots, you saw the first one fall to the floor, soon accompanied by his teammate as you shot a round at his forehead.

Four were down, counting the bodies next to them on the floor, but the bullets didn’t stop firing at you. They clearly were in a much larger number than you anticipated.

You weren’t sure how many more bullets the couch could absorb. The both of you were basically sitting ducks; who knew how many more were out there. You had limited ammo because you didn’t expect a fucking SWAT team when you came to kill one man.

“We need to go,” he voiced your exact concern.

“Yep,” you grunted, shifting to reload your gun from the spare ammo in your pocket.

You didn’t know how to get out of here considering that you didn’t bring your own-

“I got a plan,” you said. He looked at you inquisitively. “You know the window in the west bedroom, hall dead-end?”

He nodded. Perhaps he was the one who left it open when he arrived.

“On the count of three, make a run for it.” You winced as a bullet tore through the fabric of the couch, right near where your shoulder was a second ago.

“We can’t outrun them,” he hissed, quickly shooting behind him before rejoining you on the floor.

“Trust me.” Bold ask. You wondered if he would.

“I don’t.”

“Do it anyway.”

You didn’t really care if he didn’t. At least you’d get out.

“One.” You shifted to sit on your knee. You could see him sit still, not joining you.

“Two.” Your gun was pressed to your side, at the ready.

“Three.” Like an athlete in a race you took off, not daring to look behind you even once as shots rode the air, narrowly missing your body.

You almost didn’t hear his groan and a small “Fuckin’ hell” before heavy footsteps ran behind you.

You smiled triumphantly, until you remembered the both of you were being followed, at least four more shooters hot on your heels.

You shot a single shot behind you, hearing someone wheeze before a loud thump of a body hitting the floor. Hopefully it wasn’t the guy you were with, but you couldn’t find it in your to care much if it was.

You raced past the numerous rooms you passed on the way here before it suddenly widened into the open kitchen.

Your body moved in autopilot, a detour in the form of a quick skip as you reached over and grabbed the contents of the bowl on the counter, fumbling to hold onto the car keys as loose change fell to the floor.

The oven timer went off, not for long before you heard its door splinter into pieces as someone shot at it in annoyance.

You took a sharp right into the room, followed by the man who took the time to kick the door shut behind him, buying you maybe a second or two of time.

You nearly flung yourself out of the window, the gravel not exactly providing the softest landing as you scrambled to open the door of the car.

“Get in!” you yelled at him as he obliged, yanking the door and jumping into the passenger seat. You threw the few dollars you had caught hold of by mistake on the floor of the car.

You could hear the door of the room being kicked open, and what seemed like angry shouting as the window cracked, leaving nothing in its wake.

You revved the engine, slamming the accelerator with as much power as you could. The car lurched backwards, and you cursed, switching gears to go forward. 

The harsh sound of metal on metal followed you as they shot at whatever they could. You prayed they wouldn’t accidentally hit the wheel or gas tank. They didn’t exactly seem like the best in the business, having missed most of their shots. 

“Go go go!” The guy beside you was holding on to his seat tightly for support.

The car broke through the rusty gates. You cringed at the dent on the hood, but didn’t slow down even for a second as you wove through trees of the estate, not losing speed even as you got onto the highway.

Silence befell the both of you for a good amount of time, but not enough time to process what had just happened. Your adrenaline was still high as you drove well above the speed limit. 

Your next step was unclear.

You were in a car with a complete stranger. You weren’t sure if you were injured somewhere. You didn’t even know where you were driving to.

“Alright,” he cleared his throat. “What the hell was that?

Part 2

[yannowhatigiveup]

T.W.A.A: The Eccedentesiast

This is a one shot I started last night and I finished it at around 2 am because I’m an insomniac. Sadly this isn’t the 10k+ word one shot I was talking about (I’m still writing it aaa) but this one is around 4-5k words long so I hope you enjoy. This is rushed, badly written, badly plotted and badly named.

TW: Dark topics such as sexual assault and suicide is mentioned in this piece of writing.

Paris, the City of Love, what a big misconception that was. If anything, Paris should've been labeled as the City of Misery considering the fact it was haunted by a villain who preyed on negative emotions. No one outside of Paris knew though, they were oblivious to the fact hundreds, thousands even millions had died in the city home to the Eiffel Tower, only to be resurrected and tormented with the memories of their death. It was worse for Marinette though, she had watched all the citizens, her beloved citizens, die before her eyes and she was powerless to help them. Their screams of anguish and cries of pain forever ghosted her nightmares. It wasn't just their blood that she drowned in, she was bullied, abused and betrayed in her civilian form by those she trusted the most.

Her classmates. She thought she could trust them but they left her for someone shinier and newer. They all hurt her, destroyed her hard work, verbally and physically bullied her. Nino and Kim, her childhood friends had turned their backs on her too, even joining the others in causing her physical and emotional pain. Alya, her best friend, had become her main abuser. The reporter stabbed the poor bluenette in the back, figuratively. Lila was the one who did it literally. Lila, the sound of the name itself made Marinette sick, after all, the brunette was the one who did this to her. She made her friends turn their backs on her, she made them abuse her and she only watched with fake crocodile tears and a smug smile when no one was looking. And Adrien, he was the worst of all. When Marinette was younger, Adrien was the embodiment of perfection. But now? All she could see was a spineless coward and a predator.

As Chat Noir, he wouldn't participate in the battles, only flirting with her hero persona. He would whine like a toddler when she rejected his advancements. Even when he did join in the battles, he was useless, ignoring anything that Ladybug would tell him and go straight for the kill which never worked. Chat Noir was incompetent and a sexual harasser. As Adrien, however, he was much more. Just two days ago, he had tried to sexually assault the young bluenette. The blonde had underestimated the girl and she managed to get away but nothing could erase her memory of the event.

The ultimatum Lila had delivered to Marinette when she thirteen seemed over-dramatic and seemingly impossible at the time. Yet three years later, she was at the point of no return. Her classmates, her friends, her teachers, the boy she once loved, her partner, her parents. They all left her. Mayor Bourgeois, fearing for his daughter's safety, had sent Chloe to New York with her mother. Luka was on tour with his father so they could build a better relationship. Kagami had a family affair back in Japan that would last for at least a month. She was truly alone. Her parents had fallen victim to Lila's lies and Marinette overheard them discussing about kicking her out. The only one by her side throughout the whole ordeal was Tikki, her beloved kwami. Even Master Fu had to leave her.

Marinette felt shut out by the rest of the world. Sure, Paris adored Ladybug but it felt different. She was fighting battles alone, she stood as the last survivor, the last protector of Paris. She took that title in stride, or that's what the Parisians thought. In reality, she was hiding behind a mask.

The bluenette had suffered endlessly for years, she was ready to break that cycle of torture. Yesterday, she came to the solid conclusion of who Hawkmoth was, who is accomplices were and what his motive was. Gabriel Agreste was the man behind Paris' torment, Nathalie Sancœr was one of his accomplices and so was Lila Rossi. For his motive, he wanted to bring his wife back. Marinette understood the pain he was in but she wouldn't go to such extreme lengths as he did. Many years ago, Marinette made a friend, one of her very best friends who she fell for. But she never told anyone who he was, where he came from or even the fact that she met someone. The reason behind this was the fact she witnessed his murder. That death, of all she witnessed, was the most heartbreaking. Even when all these years have passed, she never truly got over his death. His green eyes always lingered her mind.

The bluenette let out an anguished sigh, she was on the Eiffel Tower, admiring the city's skyline despite all its obvious flaws under close inspection. Though Marinette had drastically mentally changed, she would always put on the same mask, she would always portray herself as a regular school girl. This was the one time she felt a little peace in her chaotic excuse for a life. Her blue eyes stared off into the distance, focusing on nothing in particular when she heard footsteps coming from behind. In her peripheral vision, Marinette could see the figure of Gabriel Agreste slowly approaching. Not wanting anything to happen, she made her knowledge of her appearance known.

"I never expected to see you somewhere so public, Monsieur Agreste" Her voice remained neutral. Gabriel didn't flinch meaning that he had expected her to sense his arrival, it made the young girl slightly unnerved but she refused to show it.

"The Eiffel Tower holds the greatest inspiration, as a designer yourself I'm sure you are aware" Marinette was used to his cold voice by now, she kept her guard up reminding herself that this was Hawkmoth was standing a few feet away.

She hummed, putting the two miraculous users in a deathly silence, until she decided to break it. "You know, you could've just asked" The older man raised an eyebrow in confusion but Marinette never looked in his direction, "It would've saved a lot of bloodshed"

Gabriel managed to catch up with what she was saying. "Are you implying that I am Hawkmoth?" He didn't sound offended or defensive, merely curious.

"I'm not implying anything" She replied curtly, then turning to face him. "I am merely stating a fact"

The miraculous user turned away from her, focusing his gaze on the city's skyline once more. "What are you going to do with this knowledge?"

The question confused Marinette, surely he would've attacked her or try to get her to remain silent?

He must've noticed her confusion. "Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't say anything"

Marinette turned her full body towards the taller man, she was going to end Hawkmoth's reign as quickly as she could. "I can heal her"

"What?"

"I can heal her" The bluenette repeated. "Emilie"

Gabriel also turned to face her, his usual cold scowl was replaced with a staggered expression. "Y-you can? Even after all I've done as Hawkmoth?"

Her head twisted back to portrait that was Paris. "To end it all, yes I will"

"Then please, follow me and I promise I will give you my miraculous as well as Mayura's. Just, heal my wife please" His tone changed from intrigued to pleading, Marinette could see that he meant every word.

"Oh don't worry... I will"

~~~

"I did it!" Tim's voice echoed in the Batcave.

"Did what replacement?"

"I found Hawkmoth's identity!"

Around three months ago, Wonder Woman had noticed Green Lantern trying to delete a video. She stopped him before he successfully did the task and watched the video herself, calling a meeting to express her anger about the situation. Most were shaken since they had never seen the Amazonian this livid before. She briefly explained how her mother was once a miraculous user and how powerful these magical jewelry could be. Aqua Man also shared his concerns, revealing that the fall of Atlantis was due to the miraculous. They knew the logical decision was to work on this from outside of Paris, the villain preyed on negative emotions and they had been ignoring the Parisians' calls for help for four years. Their sudden appearance would definitely trigger the heroes. So in the last month, they had gathered files of nearly every person in Paris as well as all the necessary information about every akuma attack. It was tiring for the Bats but they trudged through it anyway.

Damian had taken a special interest in the spotted-heroine specifically, without the knowledge of any of his family members. She appeared similar to a female friend he had made quite some time ago, the one who had witnessed an assassination attempt on him. He saddened him to no end knowing that the friend he loved thought he was dead. The green-eyed boy became one hundred percent convinced that this hero was his friend.

One day, Dick had caught him in the Batcave observing a recently taken image of the Ladybug heroine. His older brother thought that Damian was crushing on the lady and began to tease him as others entered the cave.

"Tt, that's not true" the green-eyed boy retaliated.

"If you don't have a crush on Ladybug then why are you staring at an image of her?" Dick added more information necessary so that his younger brothers could join in on teasing his youngest brother.

The Robin vigilante sighed and brought everyone's attention to the screen. "See that?"

"All I see is this little lady Demon Spawn" Jason's smirk was quickly gone when he noticed Damian's serious expression.

"She's alone" he stated simply and before anyone could get a word in, her explained further. "There is usually a team with her"

Everyone seemed to lean closer to the screen.

"She's fighting alone. Her 'partner' doesn't participate in the battles anymore, he stays on the sidelines, observing" He let the others catch up to what he was saying. "The attacks have been lasting a lot longer than usual, Ladybug leads a super hero team correct? Then why is she fighting alone this time."

"They could have all been killed... We have to go to Paris to help the poor girl" Dick turned to Bruce. "Who knows how much longer she'll last alone fighting a psycho butterfly man!"

Bruce's fatherly instincts were screaming at him from merely looking at the photo. "I'll announce to the League that we'll be joining the fight in Paris"

~~~

Gabriel lead Marinette to his office, Nathalie wearily watching. Just as he was about to open the double doors, his assistant collapsed in uncontrollable coughing. Marinette was much faster than the older man so she got to the woman first. The bluenette carefully put Nathalie down on one of the chairs available while putting her hand on where she thought the assistant would where the peacock brooch. The blue-eyed girl could sense the broken miraculous' energy trapped in the woman so she did the only reasonable thing she could at that moment, she extracted the corrupted magic, healing Nathalie almost instantly. Marinette ignored Gabriel's relieved expression and gestured for him to lead her to Emilie.

"When this is over, I wish to have a restraining order against your son"

"May I ask why?"

"..."

"...I understand, I'll make sure to tell Nathalie"

The older man stopped before a painting of his wife, his fingers reached for the painted shapes and pressed on them, revealing an elevator to which he went down in. Following his motion, Marinette placed her hand on the painting and allowed herself to descend down the mansion. It lead her to a repository with a catwalk which lead to a circular platform covered in luscious greenery. In the middle on the platform was a class-covered cryogenic pod which the sleeping body of Emilie Agreste lay. The bluenette carefully made her way to the glass casket, placing her hand on the transparent material when she finally reached her destination. Focusing all her energy, a red light erupted from her finger tips and it soaked into Emilie's skin. Gabriel opened the pod, carefully watching his wife as Marinette took a step back. Suddenly her eyes fluttered open.

"G-Gabriel, what happened?"

The man didn't reply, he simply hugged the woman of his dreams before turning the the young girl.

"I... Thank you Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, I can give you the miraculous now if-"

"Ladybug will be at the Eiffel Tower soon, I suggest you give the miraculous to her then"

Gabriel nodded and thanked the girl once more as she left. Before she reached the lift that would lead her back up to Gabriel's office, Marinette turned to face the newly reunited couple.

"Enjoy the happiness in your life, Monsieur Agreste, you never know when it may end"

She then turned to leave, not wanting to here what her former idol had to say. When she reached the main floor of the Agreste Mansion, Marinette was greeted by Nathalie. The bluenette acknowledged the assistant with a nod, meaning that Emilie was awake. The assistant let out a sigh of relief and rushed to Adrien's room, not wanting to be around the blonde boy, Marinette promptly left. Once out of the premises of the mansion, she transformed and waited for Gabriel to return the miraculous. What she didn't realise was that the Justice League would also be coming to pay her a visit.

It felt like an eternity, waiting for the miraculous to be handed back to her but the bluenette was patient. She waited four years for this moment, but she had to share the moment alone. It was bittersweet. Soon enough Gabriel arivied, hastily giving Ladybug both the brooches with apologetic eyes and leaving without a word. The spotted heroine presumed that he wanted to get back to his wife and son, she couldn't blame him. Ladybug reached for her yo-yo teary-eyed, she was going to put both miraculous in her weapon before returning them in the miracle box but she stopped when she heard multiple figures approaching where she was standing.

~~~

Batman and his sons were the ones to go to Paris and alert Ladybug of their findings. The five men found themselves in front of the Eiffel Tower, Tim found out that was were the heroes would return to after their patrol.

"We must tell Ladybug right away" Batman pulled out his grappling hook and flung himself to one of the higher levels, all but Robin followed suit.

The vigilante had a feeling to remain on a lower level. He wanted to be reunited with his long lost friend but he couldn't find the words. Simply, he used his grappling hook to bring him onto one of the beams, low enough so he couldn't be seen but high enough to hear any conversation.

"Greetings, Ladybug" His father's voice echoed through the quiet building.

"Monsieur Batman? Wh-what are you doing here?" Her voice sounded almost exactly as he remembered, of course it sounded deeper and more matured but it had a more desolated edge to it.

~~~

"We apologize for not intervening earlier but we didn't know how well we needed to control our emotions" Red Hood watched as Nightwing brushed a hand through his hair nervously.

"But we can help now!" Red Robin's excited voice came out of nowhere, Ladybug looked at the vigilante in surprise. "We found out Hawkmoth's identity so we can finish this once and-"

Ladybug put a single hand up, a small smile on her face, silencing Red Robin's rambling. "That's very considerate of you, all of you" Her gaze landed on each vigilante one at a time. "But I... have things sorted" She pulled out two brooches from behind her back to show the men before putting the miraculous in her yo-yo. "I appreciate all you've done, truly I do. But can I ask one for one more favor?"

"Of course, what is it?" Nightwing asked, clearly wanting the spotted heroine to be gleeful once more.

"Could you... help the other heroes to help the Parisians to heal?"

"It's the least we can do" Batman replied. "Will you be there too?"

"I'm afraid not" Ladybug turned around and leaned forward on the banister. "You know how Hawkmoth prays on negative emotions, so I've had to deal with my emotions in an unhealthy manor but now... Hawkmoth is no more. I can be free"

"Wh-"

"Thank you, truly" Ladybug jumped up on to railing, facing the group of vigilantes. Her sad smile faded as she stared at the floor.

They didn't even get a chance to process what was happening before it did. A bright light surrounded the young hero and they were forced to close their eyes. As the light died down, Red Hood saw a small bluenette. She looked so weak, so pretty, so... fragile. It hurt the vigilante's heart seeing someone like this being the sole protector of Paris with no one by her side.

"Hey little lady-"

"I'm sorry Tikki"

The girl looked at all the vigilantes slowly, mouthing a 'thank you' before letting herself lean backwards.

Gravity took the Parisian heroine and she fell.

A small creature holding something shiny stared in horror as its owner fell."MARINETTE!" The small creature's anguished scream seemed to bring the vigilantes back to reality.

~~~

"MARINETTE!"

Robin's head shot up, that name was all too familiar. Suddenly, he took note of a figure falling fast from above, her raven hair flowing in the wind. Without giving a second thought, he bounded down the ledge he was on, landing on one of the platforms and had his arms out ready to catch the fallen angel. The bluenette was close enough for Robin to grab her and he pulled her in so that her feet landed on the platform, her body still looming over the edge of the building. His brother and father landed not far from him, bounding over to help the bluenette but Robin took no notice of their presence.

"Why didn't you just let me f...all" The girl's voice trailed off as her eyes widened in recognition, the air in her lungs escaped from her lips. "...d-Damian?"

The two friends took no notice at how the vigilantes behind Robin stiffened. Her eyes developed a watery sheen as the situation began to really hit her. Tears threatened to spill as her lip quivered. Robin pulled her away from the ledge and she jumped into his arms, she was heavily touch-starved. Much to his family's surprise, he didn't push her away. In fact, he hugged her back. They heard what she said next.

"I... I thought you were dead, Dami"

"...why? What made you do this, Malaki?"

They didn't hear what she said next as her mumbling was muffled in Robin's chest. Nightwing walked up to the two first, kneeling down to be eye level with the girl.

"Hey Sunshine... we don't know what you've been through but we're willing to help you though it okay?" The girl looked at his sincere gaze, her eyes were so round with innocence, Nightwing thought he would melt.

"I... thank you, I'm sorry for worrying you when I... jumped" No one failed to notice when Robin ran his fingers through the bluenette's hair.

"Don't apologize Little Lady" Red Hood walked over to where Nightwing was kneeling, sitting next to his older brother. "Hawkbitch forced you to bottle up your emotions, you were just strong for too long."

Marinette looked between the two men, a grateful smile on her face while she wiped the tears of pure happiness running down her cheeks. "Thank you, I- this... this is the nicest I've been treated recently"

"If you don't mind me asking," Batman walked over and Marinette felt slightly intimidated you his presence as well as his tone. The dark knight must have noticed this since he cleared his throat and began talking in a softer manner. "What happened to cause you to go to such extremes? You're obligated to not having to talk about it right away if the subject makes you uncomfortable"

"Well I guess I do have to talk about it eventually..."

Recognising the bluenette's discomfort, Red Robin stepped in. In his palm was the shaken kwami who flew straight for Marinette once the vigilante got close enough. "Since you know Robin's identity, and we already sorta know yours, it's only fair if we tell you who we are, right?" He looked at his two older brothers and then at his adoptive father. "My name's Tim Drake nice to meet you"

Marinette was about to take his offered hand when the vigilante she presumed was Red Hood took it instead, "Jason Todd, Robin's most charming and handsome brother" She giggled at Damian's obvious annoyance.

"Well I'm Richard Grayson, Robin's favourite brother, but you can call me Dick" The vigilante in the suit who comforted her first, introduced himself.

"It's nice to meet all of you"

Batman soon came over as well to aquatint with the young heroine, offering out his hand for a handshake. "Bruce Wayne"

She returned the hand shake and brightly smiled, it blinded nearly all those near. "Thank you, Mr Wayne. Wait..." she turned to face Damian, one of her eyebrows raised. "Wayne?"

"I may have failed to mention that part" To Robin's surprise, Marinette started giggling so he huffed in taken offense.

"Sorry it's just- a girl in my class as been boasting about dating you and about the Wayne Family seeing her as their 'honorary member'. I knew she was lying I just didn't know that I would bump into the people she was lying about"

Bruce hummed. "We'll have to do something about this girl you're talking about. In the meantime, why don't you come back to the hotel with us? You and Damian can catch up" The older man saw the hesitation in her eyes but he also saw the willingness that shine through the most. "If you're living in a bad environment then you do have to escape" His sons nodded along.

"I'll come, can I bring some overnight clothes? It's been a long day..."

"Of course, you go get your belongings and you can meet us at the Grand Paris Hotel"

"I... thank you again" She transformed and headed in the direction of her house, leaving Robin at the mercy of his brothers.

"You like her, Brat" Red Robin spoke up first.

Nightwing pretended to wipe his tears. "Baby Bird's all grown up now"

"That means you can't adopt the little Pixie, don't think I haven't seen the adoption papers"

~~~

When Marinette destransformed on her balcony rooftop, she quickly went inside, packed some clothes as well as some essentials. When she was satisfied with her belongings, she gave a macaron to Tikki before heading downstairs where she was met with two disappointed looking parents.

"Is something wrong?"

"We've decided," Tom began. "We're kicking you out for what you've done to your lovely classmate, Lila"

"We don't recognise the person you've become, Marinette. You are not the daughter we raised" Sabine added

"May I pack my things in the morning?" Marinette inquired, her eyes void of emotion. When her parents nodded, she left the bakery and down to the hotel where Damian was waiting in the lobby. As she approached, he took her bag and intertwined their hands together. She blushed at the contact but leaned into his embrace.

When she entered the hotel room she was greeted by the vigilantes who were now changed and unmasked. The bluenette was welcomed with open arms, she felt the warmth in her heart for the first time since Lila's Tyranny. She briefly explained Lila's lies, what she had done to Marinette and how the bluenette was able to protect Paris. She would've carried on longer if it weren't for the hotel phone ringing. It was the receptionist, saying that someone had asked to see Marinette. Confused, she went down with Damian, Jason followed closely behind since he had grown quite attached to the little fairy. Waiting at the front desk as a woman, Damian and Jason recognised her instantly as Mayura. Damian tried to step in front of his friend but she completely ignored their futile attempts to keep her in reach.

"Ah, Hello Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng"

"Hello Nathalie, we're you the one who asked for me?"

"Yes, I just need to clarify a few things"

"Go ahead"

"You're request for the restraining order has been fulfilled" the bluenette nodded, waiting for Gabriel's assistant to continue. "May I ask what did he do to make you request for it?"

The two notices how Marinette stiffened. She contemplated before sighing. "Attempted sexual assault. If you look at the camera footage outside of the Louvre from two days ago, seven pm onwards, you'll see your evidence." Marinette turned away from Nathalie and walked back to Damian who, once in range, pulled her in for a hug.

"I'll never let him near you again, Angel"

~~~

The next day, Bruce had shown up with Marinette at her parents' bakery. Upon hearing about the young bluenette being kicked out, he had asked for her permission for him to be her Guardian until she was old enough to live in her own. Marinette accepted his offer. When they had entered the building, her parents had greeted their customers kindly before recognising Marinette. Bruce turned to the young girl next to him and smiled.

"You go pack your things I'll deal with this" She smiled and bounded upstairs, leaving Bruce to talk with the bakery's owners.

"Hello Sir, how may we help you?" Sabine began, wanting to know who this man was.

"I've come to gain guardianship of your daughter, Marinette Dupain-Cheng"

"Why should we give you guardianship?" Tom asked.

"I'm sure you know the liability for child neglect, Mr Dupain" With his words, both adults seemed to turn white. "I will file the necessary and submit it with the court, I'm sure you'll be willing to give your approval"

Both Marinette and the mystery man left, true they were glad that their mistake of a daughter had gone but they wondered who she had gone with.

~~~

Later that afternoon was a charity event which the Waynes were supposed to attend as they were invited by the mayor himself, the plus side was that the Akuma class would also be attending and they had no clue the Wayne Family would be there.

"...And finally I'd like to thank the Wayne Family for joining us this evening" Mayor Bourgeois finished his speech and all heads turned to the table the Waynes and Marinette were sitting on. As his speech was over, a teenage girl with glass and a very pale brunette came over to the table.

"Hello Mr Wayne, My name's Alya and I'm your honorary daughter's best friend and I was hoping-"

"Marinette" Bruce began, cutting off the aspiring reporter. The Alya girl only then seemed to notice that the bluenette was sitting at the table. "Is this girl you're friend?"

The bluenette took one hard look at Alya before shaking her head, "No"

"Marislut what th-"

"It would be appreciated if you did not talk about my honorary daughter and future daughter-in-law on that manner" Both Damian and Marinette turned red, one much more than the other. "In fact we should be leaving" Bruce and the rest of the family got up. "Miss Rossi, I will not tolerate your lies. You will receive a lawsuit for defamation and slander. Have a good evening" They left, leaving a reporter, a liar and a class speechless.

When they reached the hotel room they finished packing up, they would be leaving that night. Marinette made a few phone calls, telling her friends that she would be moving to Gotham. They had their belongs taken to the limo downstairs and had a few snacks before making their way down. In the lobby were many different people around the bluenette's age, she recognised them as her classmates and continued walking beside Damian until Alex came over.

"Marinette... we're sorry. We understand that you probably won't forgive apps but we wrote you letters anyway" the skater girl gave Marinette a pile of enveloped letters, ones she put in her bag straight away.

"Thank you for your apologies but I don't think I can forgive you just yet, goodbye Alix" the bluenette got in the limo and let out a breath she knew she was holding.

Her eyes glanced out the tinted window, she smiled knowing that she was leaving Paris for a better life. A better life with a friends, a better life with a new family. A better life with Damian.

~Bonus~

The harsh blizzard outside was definitely being felt from inside the manor, leaving a cold and tired Marinette on the couch. Damian, noticing his girlfriend's state, went to grab a blanket to cover both Marinette and himself. She snuggled into the green-eyed boy, taking all the warmth she could get, and slowly she drifted off to sleep. Damian too felt drowsy so soon followed his girlfriend into dreamland.

Jason came in a few moments later to find the sleeping couple, he was then reminded by how tired he was so he went on the couch and leaned his back against his youngest brother, himself too falling victim to slumber.

The next person to walk in was Dick, he had just finished training so he was exhausted. But he couldn't help to coo when he came across the scene in front of him. The eldest son then got on the sofa and carefully leaned against Marinette, similar to what Jason had done with Damian. It didn't take long for him to join them in dozing off.

Tim arrived with a big cup of freshly made coffee, one which he was about to drink until he noticed his siblings all curled up on the couch sleeping. The co-CEO went back to the kitchen, left his cup of coffee then went to grab a blanket to join his family. Wrapping himself in a blanket burrito, Tim placed himself on the floor pressed up against sofa.

When Bruce returned home safely, he went to the main living room to see his children, and his future in-law who was basically his own by now, sleeping soundly with the TV still running. Reaching for the remote, he turned the television off and grabbed his phone to take a picture. He planned on printing it out and having it framed in his study. Bruce sat on one of the armchairs, taking a book to read. If there was peace in the house, he might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

[1000roughdrafts]

The (almost) Perfect Crime: Chapter Three

Warnings: language, alcoholism, violence (kind of) and threats of violence

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: This one is Dean’s POV, and as a reminder, this is an AU where Dean and Sam are not brothers, not related and don’t even really know each other that well. This was supposed to come out earlier today but I had a weird day and didn't schedule it I'm sorry

Masterlist

Chapter Two

Detective Dean Campbell parked his personal vehicle on the street a block down from the Golden Egg, just barely concealed behind a deteriorating fence. He glanced at his watch to note the time his subject entered the bar, and slouched back in the seat. He poured the remainder of his coffee into his mouth, scrunching his face as the undissolved sugar grates its way down his throat among the now cold brew. Clearing his throat, he glanced at his watch again, and then at the street as people came and went.

God, you stick out like a sore thumb, Dean, he thinks, sinking into the seat a little more. Figuring he had a little time before that scum of a man came back out anyway, he could use the distraction of flipping through the file he kept locked away until he was off the company dime.

The other detectives were sure he was off his rocker just for mentioning a distaste for Portland’s favorite lawyer, Sam Winchester. But those same assholes were on board when his hunch proved true about the judge that was accepting bribes. It wasn’t as high profile as a case like Sam’s would be, but damn, it really showed Dean that he just can’t trust anyone.

He’d been given an ultimatum by the director; he could either stand down, or step down. Except Dean’s never been one to let someone stand in the way of what’s right, no matter who they are or what power they hold. His investigation was just going to have to stay a secret until he’d gathered enough evidence to sway the DA into pursuing a case.

“Fuck,” he growled, slamming a hand on the steering wheel. His eyes were going cross-eyed combing through the same papers over and over as they looked for something, anything that would just jump out and help him solve this. He needed a break, badly, but anytime he took his eyes off the pictures and documents he could still see them like they were imprinted on the back of his eyelids.

A knock at the window startled him into dropping the papers into his lap. Looking through the window was Sam with a smug smile.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Dean said, forcing all of his strength into opening the door to slam it against Sam.

Lazily holding his hands in the air, Sam laughed. “Easy officer,” he said. Pointing at the Impala with a tilted head, he added, “you tailing me now, Campbell?” With a cocked head.

Dean rolled his eyes and stepped out, “the world doesn’t revolve around you, Winchester. I thought I’d stop by for a drink,” he said with a poised smile.

“Really?” Sam scoffed, “kind of looks like you’ve been following me,” he said. Making a pouting face, he said, “you’re a cop, Dean-o, don’t embarrass yourself like this.”

“Detective,” he clarified, “and I’m off duty… as I said, getting a drink.”

Sam nodded his head with the words, “which makes what you’re doing a crime, detective,” he chuckled, “you realize that right?” He looked around at the now nearly vacant street, “out in the open and all.” His laugh deepened as he turned to walk away, but after a few steps, he turned to face Dean. “You know, I could teach you a thing or two about staying hidden,” he smirked, “off the record, I swear,” he said, palms held up with a smug grin.

It took nearly everything in Dean not to hit him right then. He clenched his teeth and spoke through them, “over my dead body, Winchester.”

Sam tilted his head and tsked, “now, careful what you wish for, Dean-o,” he said, turning again to walk away.

“Your girlfriend know what you’re really up to when you’re ‘working’?” Dean called out.

Whirling around, Sam glanced at the bar and then back at Dean through squinted eyes before marching towards him.

“That wouldn’t be a threat, now, would it?” He said through his teeth while jabbing a finger into Dean’s chest.

Dean held his head high, and shrugged. “I know that I would never hurt her,” he said, then sucked air in through his teeth, “but could the same be said for you?” He let the air out and shook his head, “well, I’m sure we’ll all just be a lot happier when you’re behind bars,” he said, and in a harsher tone, added, “where you belong.”

Sam laughed, mocking Dean, “you can’t even get one detective on your side, let alone the DA, but yeah, go ahead and try your luck. See what happens.”

Dean rolled his eyes and let Sam walk away. He was nearly shaking with anger from just the thought of yet another day where Sam walks free, but if he wanted to get anywhere in his investigation, he’d need to get some sleep and grub.

—

The last thing Dean expected was to see Y/N sitting at a table on the balcony of the Golden Egg. He sat in a booth near the doors to eat and could see her through the glass with a woman he didn’t recognize. Y/N’s hair was tied up and for a lot of the conversation, which he wasn’t able to hear, she had her eyebrows raised and she sat very close to the table. Her drink was almost untouched and her leg was bouncing rapidly.

It felt weird for him to be so close to her, especially after the interaction he’d just had with her boyfriend. He ate his burger quickly as he snuck glances at her. If it weren’t for her long sleeves, and pants he’d have scanned her skin for bruises or marks.

Pulling cash from his wallet, he chugged the drink as he stood up. He threw the cash onto the table as he set the glass down and looked at Y/N one last time before turning to leave.

As he walked out, he wondered what side Sam showed her. It was hard to imagine that Sam treated her well. As he’d been tracking him for a while, he was well aware that they’d been together for the better part of three years. Hell, they even live together, and he hoped for Y/N’s sake that Sam was a good actor, because he knew that Y/N didn’t deserve to be with a guy like him. Hell, no one deserved that.

He thought about her the entire way home. The idea that she was so close to danger while being none the wiser really worked his nerves. He decided at that moment that nothing would get in the way of him building a case against Sam.

Pulling the Impala into the parking lot of his apartment complex, Dean wondered if sleep would escape him again like it had been for months. He jogged to his apartment and went straight for the beer in his fridge. His shoes came off only second to popping the top off and taking a sip of his sleep aid. It had become part of his routine; work on the clock for ten hours, then off the clock for anywhere from five to seven hours, drink a few or maybe several beers, and sleep (or try to sleep) for four hours, and that was if he was lucky.

PermaTags<3 @waywardblueshun @81mysteriouslyme @drakelover78 @soab1967 @shutupandfeedmethings @pollywantacracker666 @sonnierae26 @obsessed5sosfreak @tlovescoffee @noodledoodlebug @hobby27 @cluz1babe @emptycanvasposts @suckmyapplejacks @sigrunsavestheday @flamencodiva

That night, luck wasn’t on his side as he would get about two and a half hours, spending most of it tossing and turning.

Chapter Four

Dean <3 @akshi8278 @squirrelnotsam @laxe-from-outer-space @ellewritesfix05 @lyarr24 @mrspeacem1nusone @idksupernaturl @fandom-princess-forevermore @stoneyggirl

Sam <3 @fangirlxwritesx67 @immafangirlmess

The Almost Perfect Crime <3 @princessmisery666 @momowinchester @sizekinkshawty @deandreamernp

*Names in bold have not been tagging for a while, if you see your url please let me know if I need to fix it :D*

Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know via a comment, like or reblog if you’re enjoying this so far! Feedback really helps to motivate me in writing more, good or constructive <3

[mandospace]

Keeping Company (Boba Fett x Reader Smut)

Request: If you're still taking requests, would you write a Boba x female reader smut? I headcannon Boba as being really rough most of the time, kinky as hell, and definitely has a breeding kink. I'm not into the entire 'daddy' thing, but am game for just about anything else.

Requested By: @asaucecoveredsomething​

Word Count: 4,658

Warnings: SMUT! If you are under 18, do not interact! Masturbation, slight voyeurism, edging, orgasm denial, fingering, oral (f receiving), slight choking, slight bondage, PinV sex, fluff at the end!

A/N: I am a whore for Boba and I got way too into this while I was writing it. I hope you Boba fuckers love reading this because I sure enjoyed writing it! 

MASTERLIST

Slave One was silent besides the constant thrum of electricity running through it's wires. It was parked on some obscure desert planet, sand whipping against the metal. Boba had been gone for a week already, hunting down some Twi'lek that had wronged him before the fall of the Empire. Now as king of the crime underworld and ruler of the territory formerly known as Hutt space, Boba didn't want any ‘loose ends’ coming for his throne. So the two of you took off in his father's old ship two months ago, hunting down the various 'loose ends' scattered throughout the galaxy.

You weren't exactly sure why Boba had decided to take you along with him instead of just leaving you at the palace. Not exactly the best fighter, you were positive that you would have slowed him down with your inexperience. When you brought it up to him, Boba just chuckled and snaked his arm around your waist, tugging you to his side with an "I'm gonna need company on those long nights, sweetness."

So you tagged along behind him, excited when you learned your true purpose on his mission. The two of you had been together for some time now, and even though he wasn't a man of many words, you knew deep down that he loved you. You were completely enamored with your bounty hunter-turned-king, and were willing to do anything to please him. So, you said yes to this journey. You said yes to the picture he painted in your head of the two of you wrapped up in each other during those long nights, keeping him company.

Of course, that hasn't happened since he returned from his first hunt. It had been exactly six weeks, four days, and thirteen hours since you last "kept him company."

It was killing you.

He had become very busy with his hunts after that first successful mission, and your alone time practically evaporated into thin air. The two of you had a very, well, physical, relationship and the need you always felt for him grew with every passing minute. The ache you felt between your legs was constant. It was ever growing, it kept building every time he came back to the ship. Just when you thought that he would take care of you and keep you company this time, he would either immediately set off for another quarry or would collapse on the bed in his quarters and fall asleep faster than you could say 'Wookie.'

So, yeah, you were a little needy.

Normally, you would have just taken care of the situation by yourself, but right before Boba had left on his first hunt he made you promise him that you wouldn't touch yourself. "It'll be fun, sweetness," he had smirked at your shocked face. "Just think, it'll make the reward just that much sweeter when I come back to you."

Sure, you had thought to yourself after the fifth time he fell asleep after returning from a hunt. If you actually stayed up to get your reward.

The ache would just not go away no matter what you tried. You took cold showers, cleaned the entire ship, and even tried to learn how to sew his old pair of pants he tore chasing after a quarry. Nothing took your mind off the way your pussy throbbed at night, demanding to be noticed.

You were left with two options. Option number one, you ignore it. Force yourself to go to sleep and just hope and pray to the Maker that when Boba returns, he doesn't fall asleep on you. Option number two, you take care of it yourself. If you broke the 'no-touching' policy, Boba would surely punish you. But only if he caught you, right? He wasn't due back for another two days, so surely you would be fine.

When you made up your mind, a thrill raced down your spine at the idea of disobeying Boba's orders. He was always in charge in every aspect of your relationship, and when you pushed his buttons before, the tortuous pleasure he gave you made you sore for days. While you loved the punishment, it wasn't nearly as good as him giving you what you desperately craved. But you weren't going to get caught, so you had nothing to worry about.

That night, you laid yourself back on your shared bed with excitement. To make the moment more enjoyable for yourself, you had dug through the ship's crates and found a delicious-smelling candle. You weren’t sure why it was on the ship, but it’s scent reminded you of Boba. The thought of him sent a shiver down your body, reminding you of your own mission.

Eyes fluttering shut, you breathed in the scent of Boba. You could feel your pussy throbbing with excitement at the prospect of what was about to happen. Your hands floated down your body, light touch through your nightshirt leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Hand making its way under your waistband, your finger trailed farther south until it met your slit. A soft gasp left your lips at how wet you found yourself. Your panties were already soaked through with desire. When your nail brushed against your clit, swollen with need, you moaned and bit down on your bottom lip. 

You haven’t had any type of release for a month and a half, and you wanted to draw this moment out. Pulling your hand out of your underwear, you tugged your shirt over your head and kicked off your sleep shorts and panties. The ship was cold, and goosebumps raised along your flesh. You could feel your nipples harden at the cold air, peaking in anticipation. Settling back against the pillows, your mind drifted off to Boba. You wished he was here with you, the one to give you the pleasure you so desperately craved. No matter what you did, it would never measure up to what you experienced with him.

Your hands drifted down your body, cupping your breasts. Wishing it was Boba’s large hands on you instead of your own, you brushed a thumb over the hardened peak. A soft moan left your mouth when you gently pinched the pert nipple. Pleasure rippled down your body and settled in your core. Your hands continued on their trail south and you spread your legs wide in anticipation. Two fingers dipped down to your entrance and gathered the slick that was beginning to pool on the sheets. You dragged the wetness to your clit and began rubbing slow circles into the bundle of nerves.

“Boba,” your breath hitched in your throat when a wave of pleasure coursed through your veins. Your left hand squeezed your breast as you flicked the bundle of nerves. You imagined that it was Boba’s thick fingers that were moving down to your sopping entrance instead of your own. Slipping two fingers into your heat, another moan fell from your lips. It had been so long, and you almost cried at the feeling of something in your pussy. While you wished it was Boba’s thick cock instead of your fingers, you made do with what you had available. Boba’s name constantly fell from your lips with breathy moans, wishing your bounty hunter was next to you...

———

The walk back to the ship was long and arduous. It had taken longer than Boba expected to find the Twi’lek that wronged him all those years ago, but he was glad it was finally over with. He didn’t even bother dragging the body back to the ship, there was no use carting around a corpse worth nothing when you already collected on the reward. Besides, Boba was thinking more about a different reward that waited for him on his ship.

When the ship came into his view, Boba sighed in relief. He couldn’t wait to walk up that ramp, throw off his helmet, and wrap you in his arms. These past few weeks were killing him. He wasn’t the young bounty hunter he once was, the hunts took more effort nowadays. By the time he was ready to spend some time with you, he often found himself asleep next to you within a few seconds. Boba ached to be inside you, it had been too long. He originally thought the ‘no-touching’ policy would be a great idea- a way to build up the anticipation and excitement while he was away from you. He just didn’t expect it to be this long of a waiting period.

Boba pressed a button on his vambrace that lowered the ramp. The hull was dark and quiet, only the sound of electricity hummed through the air. He didn’t see you in your usual spot where you waited for him. You must be asleep, Boba figured, and pressed the button again to close the ramp. He couldn’t blame you for sleeping, it was the easiest way to make time pass by faster. Once the ramp locked in position, Boba started to make his way towards his quarters. If you were asleep, he decided that he would join you and get his reward once the two of you had gotten some rest. He had only walked a few paces when a noise stopped him dead in his tracks. He waited to hear it again, trying to discern if it was just a figment of his imagination, but then he heard it-

“Boba.”

He would recognize your voice anywhere. Boba was pretty confident that he could pick your voice out of thousands, but he was damn sure he would be able to if you said it in the tone you just used. Your breathless moaning of his name was his favorite sound in the world.

Boba could feel his cock twitch in his pants at the sound of your moan. He immediately knew what you were doing, but he wanted to see it for himself. He had to catch you in the act if he was going to punish you. So he quietly made his way to his quarters, and stopped just inside the door.

The image of you sprawled out on his bed, naked, hand in between your legs playing with your pussy sent a lightning bolt of lust through his body. His dick pressed against the confines of his pants as he stood there, watching you. Your eyes were closed- you hadn’t seen him come in- and you arched your back in pleasure. Boba’s eyes never left your body, watching the way you thrust your fingers in and out of your wet heat.

“Boba,” you moaned again, biting down on your bottom lip. He couldn’t just stand there, watching you pleasure yourself. That was his job.

“Yes, pretty girl?”

The deep timbre of Boba’s voice through the vocoder of his helmet made your eyes snap open. Immediately, you glanced to the doorway and saw him standing there, full armor on, staring at you pleasuring yourself in his absence. Which you definitely were not supposed to be doing.

“Boba-” you gasped, but he quickly cut you off.

“I thought we agreed to something, princess,” his words dripped from his tongue with lust, the sound making your pussy throb. “No touching while we were apart, right?”

You tried to come up with an excuse whilst you just laid there, fingers still buried between your folds. You were too scared to pull them away. Boba was in charge now.

“Did you really miss my cock that much, sweetness?” His tone was mocking and you couldn’t help but whimper out a measly ‘yes.’ Boba growled deep in his chest. “Hands up.”

Not daring to disobey his orders anymore, you brought your hands up and above your head, resting them on the pillows. Boba stalked towards you before grabbing both of your hands in one of his large gloved ones. He grabbed the cuffs from his belt and cuffed your hands together before magnetizing them to the metal wall at the head of the bed. You weren’t going anywhere.

Boba stood over you, dark visor peering at your flushed face. You squirmed on the bed in anticipation, you knew you fucked up- now was the time to pay for it. “Boba.”

He hummed low in his throat, gloved hand trailing down your neck before resting between the valley of your breasts. You could feel the warmth of him through his glove, and his touch set you ablaze. He had barely touched you, just a single graze, and you were already putty in his hand.

“Please,” you choked out as his hand moved further down your body. He cupped your heat, middle finger gliding through your folds.

“And why should I?” Boba questioned, languidly drawing circles on your clit. He was moving too slow, not giving you the friction you craved. “You disobeyed me, little one.”

Shit, you were really in trouble now. He never called you ‘little one’ unless you really fucked up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I thought-”

“You thought what?” Boba stopped his movements, pulling his hand away from your cunt. He dragged his fingers back up your body, smearing your slick over your stomach. His hand rested at the base of your throat, squeezing slightly. The lack of oxygen made your head swim even more and caused you to let out a whine. “Thought you could touch yourself and I wouldn’t find out?”

All you could do was nod your head. No use in lying to him now. Boba ‘tsked,’ giving your throat another squeeze. “Guess I’m going to have to punish you, little one.”

He was going to make you cry. “Boba, please, I’ll be good.”

“If you aren’t punished,” Boba moved his hands up to his helmet, pulling it off to reveal his lust-filled eyes. “You’ll never learn.”

His hand groped your breast, flicking your nipple before wrapping his warm mouth around it. He sucked your breast into his mouth, tongue lapping at the sensitive skin. Your back arched off the bed in an attempt to push your chest closer to him. Boba lightly bit down on the sensitive bud, causing a pathetic whimper to leave your mouth. He moved over to the other breast, giving it the same attention before he trailed his lips down your stomach. Settling himself between your spread legs, Boba made eye contact with you momentarily before he licked a broad stripe up your pussy.

You screamed at the sensation of his warm tongue running through your folds. It had been forever since he ate you out and it was your favorite kind of torture. Boba’s mouth focused on your clit, sucking hard on it and leaving you breathless. You tugged at your restraints, wanting to use your hands to pull him closer to your dripping heat. Instead, the cuffs dug into your wrist- surely leaving marks. Boba continued to lick your pussy, giving your clit small, fast licks. He brought his gloved hand to your entrance, easily sinking two of his thick fingers into your heat. His fingers felt so much better than yours did, and the way he thrust them in tandem with his tongue licking your clit drove you crazy. You could feel the heat pooling in your tummy, each flick of his tongue and thrust of his fingers adding fuel to the growing flame.

“Boba,” you whined when his teeth grazed your clit. Your hips began to lift off the bed, trying to get closer to his mouth, but he just slung an arm over your hips and pinned you to the bed. His ministrations on your pussy felt delicious, causing breathless whines and moans to roll off your tongue. He added a third finger, pressing them into your dripping cunt before curling upwards. The leather of his glove just barely grazed against the spongy flesh of your walls, and it felt like you had been electrocuted. Your head leaned back in pleasure, mouth forming an ‘O’ as he pressed against that one spot and sucked your clit harshly. It was too much, the feeling of him giving you attention after all these weeks. You could feel the coil in your belly tighten, and a soft cry left your lips. “Boba, I-I’m going to-”

Just as the coiled spring in your tummy was about to snap and send you crashing over the edge, Boba pulled his mouth and fingers away from your cunt. Eyes snapping open in fury, you stared down between your legs where Boba sat on his haunches. His eyes were dark as they watched your heaving chest. You could see the sheen of your slick covering his mouth and chin. You were furious. “Boba, what the hell?!”

Boba just chuckled at your fury, crawling over your body. Tears were starting to pool in your eyes. It felt so good having him between your legs, and you wanted nothing more than to run your hands over his body. Boba brought his slick-coated fingers to your mouth, lightly tapping your bottom lip. “Suck,” he demanded, pushing his fingers into your mouth. You moaned at the taste of you on the old leather, tongue licking clean his fingers. You made sure to meet his gaze before you sucked on his fingers, hard.

“I want you, in my mouth,” you gasped when he pulled his fingers out of your mouth. Boba just stared at you, and brought his own fingers to his mouth to lick off the remnants of your desire. You squirmed under his gaze, and you could see just how hard he was by the tent in his pants. “Please.”

“Bad girls don’t get what they want,” Boba hummed while his hand traveled down to his pants. He quickly unbuttoned his trousers and shoved them down his thighs a bit. His cock sprang to attention, almost slapping against his armored chest. He was swollen with need and extremely hard. His tip was a lovely shade of dusty rose, and precum dripped down his shaft. You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight of him. He was gorgeously thick, and you ached to wrap your lips around him.

He gripped his cock at the base and slowly dragged the head through your wet folds. Your breath hitched in your throat when he brushed against your clit. The need and desire that coursed through your veins made you hot to the touch. Boba just knelt there between your legs, lazily dragging his cock back and forth through your pussy. It brought tears to your eyes and you desperately wanted him to do anything besides just tease you like that.

“Boba.”

“Yes, little one?” He didn’t look at you, just watched the way his cock glided through your folds. You could see how tense he was in his beskar-covered shoulders. You wished you could reach out and touch him.

“Please,” you whimpered. You must’ve sounded really desperate because he finally met your gaze. Boba smirked as he positioned himself at your entrance. “Fuck me.”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest whilst his free hand grabbed your hip. “Anything for you, princess.” Boba quickly entered you with a snap of his hips. The feeling of him stretching you out with his thick cock was slightly painful after all of these weeks. Pain melted into pleasure though when he bottomed out in you with a groan. “Fuck, always so tight for me.”

Boba was practically splitting you open on his cock and you couldn’t do anything about it. You pulled at the restraints but it was no use. You pleaded for Boba to move, and he graciously pulled himself back out of your heat, only leaving the tip in. He rested there for a moment and your chest heaved in anticipation. Just when you thought he wasn’t going to move, he slammed back into you and a strangled cry flew past your lips. Boba set a hard and fast pace, pounding into you with no reluctance. His grip on your hips was surely leaving bruises on your skin, but with each drag of his cock against your walls, you found yourself no longer caring. The feeling of him pounding into you was electrifying, and the desire started to build in your lower tummy.

“Boba,” his name constantly slipped past your lips. You were a moaning mess under him, and you wanted nothing more than to pull his face towards yours so you could kiss him. “Please, I need to touch you.”

Boba grunted with each snap of his hips against yours. You weren’t sure if he even heard you over the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin, but he momentarily pulled out of you so he could reach up and undo the cuffs restraining you. Your shoulders ached from being stuck in one position for so long, but you didn’t care. Your hands immediately went to Boba’s scarred face and pulled him towards you. Lips crashing against his, you moaned into his mouth when he pushed his cock back into your pussy. His arms snaked around your waist and tugged you closer to his armored chest. You wrapped your legs around his waist and moaned at the feeling of him pounding into you deeper at the new angle.

“Fuck, sweetness,” Boba moaned against your lips before trailing them down to suck a mark on your neck. Your hands roamed his back and finally settled on his shoulders, fingers gripping the pauldrons to stabilize yourself. 

“Missed you so much... Been wanting this sweet pussy for weeks.” Moaning at his words, you could feel the coil in your belly tighten. Your walls fluttered around his cock and he could feel your approaching release. Boba reached down between your bodies and began rubbing fast circles on your clit. “Come for me, little one.”

The combination of Boba’s cock pounding into you, his leather-clad fingers circling your clit, and lips marking your neck sent you over the edge. Pleasure crashed into you and sent you spinning with every pulse of heat coursing through your veins. You moaned loudly and your eyes screwed shut in pleasure. The feeling of your walls clamping down on Boba’s cock as he rode out your high made his own quickly approach. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he pulled them up into his hips in time with his thrusts.

“Feel so good,” Boba’s words started to slur with his approaching release. “M’ sweet girl... take m-me so well.” His hips pistoned into yours. “Fuck, gonna f-fill you up, m-make warriors wi-with-“ Boba’s sentence cut off abruptly with a groan as his balls pulled up tight. He buried himself deep in your fluttering heat, releasing his seed. His cum painted your walls in thick ropes, and you moaned at the feeling of his cock giving you everything he had.

Boba’s forehead rested against yours as the two of you came down from your highs. He pulled out his softening cock from you with a squelch, your combined releases leaking out of your weeping pussy. The sight of his cum leaking from you made Boba swell with pride. He loved knowing that he was the only one who could make you feel this way, the only one who was allowed to come inside of you.

His fingers lightly grazed across your skin, rubbing soothing patterns into your aching muscles. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he gathered what remained of his cum that was leaking out of your entrance and pushed it back in with two fingers. He meant what he said earlier- he desperately wanted to make warriors with you. Boba yearned to watch you swell with his child, becoming round from his seed. The image of you pregnant caused a chill to race down his spine, and Boba pressed his lips to yours.

“Missed you, princess,” he mumbled against your lips. His fingers lazily pumped into you, making sure you were stuffed full with his cum. A breathless sigh escaped past your lips at the feeling, and you pulled back from his kiss to look him in the eyes. They were softer now, content to just be here with you.

“How was the hunt?” You absentmindedly asked, rubbing soothing circles into the back of his neck. You could feel the knots and tension that laid beneath the tan skin.

“Okay,” he shrugged, giving your lips a lazy peck. “Got the bastard. Should only be a few more left.” His thumb brushed over your clit, body shivering at the overstimulation.

“Yeah? And then what?”

“Then, my sweet girl,” Boba pressed another kiss to your mouth. “We go home. And we fuck until the sun goes down.”

“I like that plan,” you smiled. The idea of not having to travel for once, to be able to stay in one place with the man you loved was intoxicating- even if it was on a planet like Tatooine. The feeling of Boba pushing his cum back into your abused pussy made another idea pop up in your mind- one that made your cheeks flush.

“What is it, princess?” Boba hummed against your lips.

“I was just thinking,” you started, unsure of how to proceed. “Do you think there’s any good schools on Tatooine?”

“Schools?” The confusion was evident in Boba’s voice. “You want to go back to school?”

“No,” you giggled, lightly smacking his pauldron. “I was just thinking, if we ever have kids, we are going to want a good school.” His silence made you nervous and you began rambling. “That is, if you want to have kids with me. I’d understand if you didn’t, but I-“

Boba cut your ramblings off with a kiss. He wasn’t really a sappy, romantic man, but you echoing his previous thoughts made his heart soar. “Of course we will get them a good school. If there aren’t any on Tatooine, we’ll build one. Right next to the palace.” The words just flowed out of him. “I’ll hire the best teachers. I’ll teach them how to fight, and you’ll teach them how to be kind and good.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. You never knew that Boba shared the same sentiments as you, and hearing how he talked about it made you pull his lips back to yours. It was a passionate kiss, lips sliding past each other’s and tongues licking into the other’s mouth. Boba’s hand retreated from your pussy in favor of gripping your hip. He could feel his cock stirring again.

Before Boba could do something about it though, you were pushing on his shoulder to roll him onto his back. You followed the motion, legs on either side of his as you sat down on his thighs. His cock was starting to harden again at this new position, and the sight of it made you bring your lip between your teeth. You reached out for it, fingers wrapping around the base before slowly pumping it.

“Sweetness, not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing?” Boba’s words fell from his lips with a soft moan. The image of you straddling him and pumping his hardening cock sent swirls of desire through his veins.

“Why wait until we get back to the palace for you to fuck a baby into me?” You slightly lifted your hips and gripped his cock, nestling it at your entrance. The tip of his head pushed in, and you sank your body down on his cock with a moan. Boba’s hands gripped your hips tightly.

“Fuck,” Boba cursed when you started gently rocking your hips on his cock. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Buckle up, old man,” your chuckle evolved into a moan when his tip brushed up against that sweet spot inside of you. “I’m planning on getting pregnant before the sun comes up.”

Your words made a growl rip through his chest, hips jutting up into yours. “We’re just getting started, little one.”