#i got more to pitch bones hire me already

[pikahlua]

If Bones kidnapped you to plot a MHA movie what would you make it about ?

Assuming I'm under duress and forced to follow the Bones movie formula (and that I'm forbidden from making the Fantasy AU movie), there are two options.

My preference: a movie sequel to the story proper. Can't do that without knowing how it ends though.

A movie that summarizes the themes of the final arc, much like how the first two movies tried to do (we don't talk about the third movie).

The Bones formula stipulates I must have some weird original central character, but this is often the reason their movies fail (imo). The easiest way out of this problem is to make the original character like a dog or cat or baby, someone that is necessarily one-dimensional so they don't come across as vapid. Unfortunately Bones tried both of these already and still somehow managed to screw it up. So, considering THAT and the themes of the final arc, my OC is gonna be a villain.

Let's go with two villains who are childhood friends.

Villain A grew up rich and with a powerful quirk that allows them to manipulate the things they touch, but because of a physical abnormality (perhaps heteromorphism) they become socially isolated from the rest of the world. Villain B, Villain A's childhood friend from before the abnormality took form, visits Villain A from time to time. As Villain A slips into loneliness and eventually madness, they come to take control of their home (a mansion). All the occupants living in the mansion take pity on Villain A and indulge their whims.

Cut to a present where the world has all gone to hell after AFO breaks out of prison. (We're gonna squeeze a few more days in there between Izuku's return to UA and the final battle with TomurAFO.) AFO encounters Villain A in their home and decides to leave another trap for Izuku. He boosts Villain A to be able to manipulate people as well as objects, and Villain A uses it to sate their loneliness. They convince Villain B, who is loyal to and feels bad for Villain A, to lure more people to Villain A for A to manipulate and play with, and over the month Villain A takes over the entire town.

At some point after Izuku returns to UA but before the fight with TomurAFO, Izuku and his search team come across Villain B seemingly in trouble and save them. It's actually a setup to lure them to the town. The team is comprised of Izuku, Katsuki, Shouto, Tenya, and Ochako at minimum. We can find bit parts for others if necessary :P

The plot is: Izuku's team gets lured by Villain B into a living labyrinth mansion controlled by Villain A.

Over the course of their struggle to escape, Izuku tries to prompt Villain B to talk so they can learn more about Villain A and figure out a solution. It is Shouto who picks up on all the clues from Villain B and the occasional traps they run into and determines how Villain A came to be this way and how Villain A may be lonely deep down--because Shouto relates to Villain A in many regards. Shouto believes they can try to reach Villain A in much the same way Izuku reached Shouto back in the sports festival. Izuku and Ochako are all for trying to save Villain A while Tenya secretly considers the logistical difficulty of this task and mentally vows to support and protect his friends. Katsuki keeps up his usual attitude but claims to be interested in taking down a power-boosted AFO-influenced villain who could have info on AFO's whereabouts.

Villain A becomes more unhinged and enraged by the heroes who won't play their game and loses control of the mansion. The mansion goes more and more berserk over time, which results in the group being forced apart.

Shouto and Ochako end up in one group that explores their admiration for Izuku and his heroism and what Izuku has done to inspire them. They get out of the mansion as it goes ballistic, and their main struggle is protecting the town from the chaos. Ochako and Shouto try to restore the wills of the people all under Villain A's control so that they can protect each other.

Katsuki and Tenya end up in group two. The tension between them is in how to handle the situation. Tenya expresses concern for the others, especially Izuku and Shouto, and wants to protect them from themselves because of how self-sacrificial they can be. Katsuki eventually gets across his view that anyone can be a danger to themself if they don't have friends there to keep them in check, but otherwise they are ALL capable of overcoming this ordeal together. Tenya decides to believe that supporting and aiding his friends can be the same as protecting them. Since the others were so adamant about saving the lonely, lost child in Villain A, Katsuki and Tenya work towards that goal. Tenya and Katsuki find Villain A, and Tenya carries Katsuki across the final leg to get Katsuki to Villain A before they are separated again.

Katsuki faces Villain A alone and attempts to find that lonely child trapped inside. Katsuki manages to bring that scared child out by appealing to how he was always so scared of Izuku but managed to get past that and strengthen their friendship in the end through understanding, but the mansion does not calm down as a result--rather it goes out of control as Villain A becomes emotionally unstable. Katsuki, emulating Izuku, steps in the way of a lethal blow from the mansion meant for Villain A, and he devotes all of his remaining strength to protecting Villain A just like All Might and Izuku would.

Izuku ends up in the final group with Villain B. Izuku spends that time coming to the conclusion that Villain B needs just as much saving as Villain A. By prying into Villain B's past, he decides that Villain B was motivated by their own heroic heart to save Villain A, but B just lacked the power to do so. Izuku steadily encourages Villain B to do the right thing and help stop Villain A, and he appeals to his and Villain B's mutual admiration of All Might to do so. When the house goes out of control, Izuku carries Villain B and attempts to find Villain A to hopefully stop all of this. Izuku uses all of OFA's quirks to avoid the mansion's attacks while searching for Villain A. They are only able to find him when Katsuki sends up a flare through all the chaos.

However, when Villain A sees their friend Villain B in trouble, they begin to internalize the blame for all the destruction. Izuku intends to bust through to Villain A and reunite Villain B no matter the cost, but Tenya shows up and reaffirms his vow to run alongside Izuku. Even though he knows Izuku would try to do this alone, he doesn't have to, and they are all stronger together, all that great shounen friendship action.

Izuku distracts the mansion while Tenya carries Villain B to get to Villain A. Down below, Shouto and Ochako convince the town to take action and defend the town, including Villain A whom they failed to care for. Ochako picks up a building and throws it at the mansion. (I NEED THIS SOMEHOW AND I'M GETTING IT NOW.) Shouto uses the debris from the resulting crash to create winding paths of ice, which Tenya uses to skate and boost across to help Villain B finally reach Villain A. HAVE YOUR GODDAMN SAKUGA.

Villain B overcomes their cowardice to try to connect with Villain A again. Even when Villain A apologizes to Villain B and Villain B gets Villain A unstuck from the house, there's nothing they can do to take back control of A's quirk (because of AFO's sabotage). But Katsuki, despite his grave injuries, gets them to hold onto him and he flies out of range of the debris of the house. Izuku OFAs the shit outta the mansion. Then, working together, Shouto freezes all the collapsing house debris into a ball to roll down an ice ramp and launch towards the sky, Ochako taps it to make it weightless, and Izuku launches it into outer space. Fuck that house.

Katsuki was only able to blast him and the villains out of range of the house but not to the ground, so he runs out of steam and falls. Izuku catches them. It's kinda gay. Especially when Villain A and B reconcile with each other and Katsuki gets to reflect on the savior Izuku is and his rescue-hero-cheesy goals that Katsuki has accepted and Izuku gets to reflect on Katsuki's insistence on doing things as a team. They both are secretly like "Awww it's his way of caring for me--and now I'm instantly repressing that thought." Izuku also forgets to pay attention to his landing and Tenya tries to catch them both and it's a dogpile of people landing on top of each other. INSERT COMIC RELIEF. (Ochako picks everyone up.)

The crux of what this movie needs that most of the other movies have failed at is BANTER. So we get Ochako and Shouto trying to be out-inspired-by-Izuku (lol not really this is a joke) as Shouto gets to make the townspeople feel at ease and Ochako sees the smiles on all the crowd as the town is saved. Tenya supports and keeps an eye out for his friends and transports people to Villain A because Ingenium would race across the land to take the hand of a lost child. Katsuki's dumb posturing collapses immediately in the face of his opportunities to oops-gotta-be-a-real-hero-now and he gets all deep with the villains and reaches their hearts or w/e, and Izuku finds victims to save everywhere all over the place all the time and brings people together in the way Katsuki and the rest of Class 1-A did for him when he ran off on his own.

And that's how you write a decent Bones filler where the characters actually get to be the characters they are and reflect on canon themes of the story without risking contradicting any canon and still building up a potentially emotional and meaningful story via some actually relevant OCs to showcase those themes with TONS OF KAIJUU HOUSE MONSTER PUNCHING because childhood homes are symbols of evil and trauma in MHA and apparently need to be destroyed. And Ochako throws a fucking building, finally.

Enjoy your disgusting happy fuzzy feels ❤️

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Number 35 for the Steddie prompts!! (Also Hiiiii!!!! Hope you're ok and that being free of education (for a bit) is doing you some good!!)

I'm doing okay, just spending the week with my grandpa helping him out on the farm! Just been really busy (Though I finally got my own computer so now I don't have to type all of this on my phone lmao)

Wanna force me to write, send a prompt in from this post to my ask!

Number 35: Villian Falls In Love With The Hero

tw: mentions of blood, violence and torture. Read at Own Risk

Arrow! Steve Harrington x Assassin Eddie Munson

Eddie grins up at the man with bloodied teeth, sweat rolling down his forehead from the heat surrounding them barely able to open his right eye from the black eye that was starting to form from each punch he’s taken. Each stroke of his tongue against his teeth confirmed what he had already assumed, at least three teeth were chipped from each swing the man threw. Fucking bastard.

Though none of this stops his eyes from lighting up with glee as the Russians fist pulls back into the air once more, threatening to strike down and break his nose this time. He didn't care, the man in front of him will not get one word from him.

Thankfully, Eddie was a bit of a masochist so he could literally do this all day.

"Where is he?" The man's accent is thick. Along with the slight ring in both of Eddie’s ears he could barely make out what the man is trying to ask him. Though after the first fifty times the man asked, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he wanted.

"Where is who?" Eddie pretends to act dumb, they both know that wasn't the case here. There had been a reason why their boss had hired him specifically in figuring out the Arrow's identity. Which he of course, successfully did.

"The Arrow!" The man's voice raises a bit, cracking a bit from frustration. His bloody fist was starting to shake a bit from the pain that was being enforced onto his own body, exhaustion seeping into his bones from holding it up in the air for so long. His other hand tightly gripping the collar of Eddies ‘Black Sabbath’ shirt. Not as enthusiastic about getting the answer out of him like he had been hours ago.

"Your ass." Eddie holds a manic grin on his face as he squints his eyes a bit. The light above them blinding him, though he doesn't need to see to hear the slight whoosh of an Arrow being shot right where Eddie had said. Right into the unexpected mans ass.

It had only been a lucky guess that his hero had finally gotten there to safe the day.

The screams of the older man echo through the warehouse as he begins to hop up and down, only causing the arrow to shove deeper into his ass. His right hand that had been lifted into the air was now pulled all the way back closer to his ass, gripping the stem of the arrow tightly.

Eddies laughter was a tad higher pitched then his voice, and way louder than the others screams. Which was why he was the only one being heard by the other crew members that were being taken out just as fast as they were alerted. A second after the last body hits the floor Eddie feels the ropes of his hands being cut.

Before he could be stopped, he's hopping up and swinging his fist at the shocked Russians face. Proceeding to spit on him as he turns around, where he knew Steve was. Arms opening dramatically, grin never leaving his face.

"You came back for me!" He says excitedly, getting the answer to his question from earlier. Whether or not that island froze his heart entirely or not. He quickly moves over to the side, grabbing his own gear. A small bag of throwing knifes and a cross bow that was quickly loaded as he looks up. Seeing the hooded figure of Steve standing off to the side. In the shadows like normal.

"Remember, no kill shots Munson. We are doing this my way." His voice is deeper than what his day-to-day voice was. Using some trick to alter his voice, it was hot. Especially when they made it to the bedroom. Steve’s moans tended to be a bit more raspy after a night out. That combined with Eddie making the other hit high notes, it was a his own personal favorite orgasm wrapped tightly in a bow.

Eddie simply pouts after a second of processing the others words, "But that's no fun." He huffs a little. He did enjoy the creativity of finding ways of killing a man. The light leaving their eyes was simply a bonus.

He starts to skip on over to the other, his boots echoing across the cement as he quickly swings both his arms around the other's shoulders. Feeling the way, the other tenses up underneath him. He doesn't care as he moves his face closer to the others. The feeling in his stomach when he finally allows his lips to brush against the others was way stronger than any adrenaline rush from a kill. He would do - no he will do anything to keep this feeling.

When he pulls back his smile is softer, reserved only for the man's eyes in front of him. That were soft as well, both of them taking a moment to reunite before everything around them went crazy.

The entrance doors slam open, and their time is up. But Eddie doesn't care as he pulls the other back into a kiss, purposely swiping his tongue in the others mouth. Feeling the others hand tighten around his hip as they both fight each other for a second. Pulling back with a gasp as Eddie grins more crazily.

"I call topping tonight!"

Before he swings himself into action, not giving the other anytime to argue.

[lostinthewiind]

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 1

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren't a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner's 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none

Song → 18 by Anarbor

A/N: if you couldn’t already tell, I have planned this as a series/full story. I was torn between writing it on here or on Wattpad or something, but ultimately decided on Tumblr . . . but let me know if you would prefer it on another platform as well! Also, this series will eventually include smut/NSFW content but that will be tagged appropriately when the time comes. As always, I hope you enjoy. 

Next →Part 2

Slamming the front door behind yourself on your way out that morning, you quickly stuffed your earbuds into your ears and cranked your music as loud as you could to drown out the sounds of your parents yelling after you and, consequently, at one another after you had dropped the bomb about your new job on them seconds before you had left, giving them as little time as possible to shame you for it.

After graduating high school and turning 18, you had decided it was time to take your life into your hands, which wasn’t too easy while you were still living under your parents’ roof, but you had to start somewhere and that somewhere was getting a job at the local corner store, Sakanoshita Market. 

You knew that your parents wanted you to go to university and ‘make something of yourself’, but you also knew that you could never truly be happy under their dictatorship-like ruling, so you decided to get a job, no matter how shitty, save your money, move out as soon as possible, and go from there. 

It was definitely going to be a process, and not an easy one, but all you had to do was take it one step at a time.

Rounding the corner and seeing the market in the distance, you felt your nerves begin to bubble inside of you a little. Sure, you had gotten some part-time jobs here and there during summer vacation before, but you had never gotten a full-time job before and had never needed the money from a job like you did now. Before, the cash you made was for extra spending money during the summer and school year, but now the money you would be making would be funding your future. It seemed like a lot of pressure to put on a job that entailed stocking shelves, checking out customers, and cleaning. 

The lady who had hired you had basically explained that since she was getting older and her son, who had been maintaining the place previously, had gotten a new job, the store needed someone to learn the ropes and take care of the place on a daily basis; and since you were young, a fast learner, and didn’t have anything else in your life besides work, you were a perfect fit. 

As the shop doors slid open smoothly to welcome you into the store you had been inside countless times in the past, you suddenly felt completely out of place in the familiar market. Now that you were an employee instead of a customer, the atmosphere had completely shifted. Instead of heading right for the fridges to grab a drink like you usually did, your eyes shifted immediately to the front counter where a figure with its feet up hid behind an open newspaper.

Just like every other time you had visited while the store owner’s son was working, he did everything humanly possible to avoid interaction. Usually, you would have appreciated not being bothered while trying to scan the shelves, but since this time was different, the lack of acknowledgement was slightly unnerving. 

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat, hoping it was enough to catch his attention. It was not. Instead, he flipped the page of the newspaper and you watched as a hand emerged from behind the paper barrier to flick the ashes from his cigarette into an ashtray sitting beside the register. 

Eyebrows furrowed, you really wished that the shop owner herself had been there to greet you for your first day instead of her seemingly useless son. “Hello.” You stepped up to the counter, the feeling of not belonging sinking deeper into your bones. 

Slowly, the newspaper separating you from the man behind the counter lowered and the shop owner’s son glared back at you, eyes half-lidded as if he were seconds away from falling asleep and the cigarette from before hanging from his bottom lip. This was far from the first time you had interacted with him, but you would be surprised if he remembered you as a customer even a little. Whenever he checked customers out, you could tell he was running on autopilot. 

The man’s eyes drifted down to your hands, which were resting on top of the counter now. Noticing you didn’t have anything to purchase, he cocked a brow. “Need help finding somethin’?” 

“Ugh, no,” you answered. “I’m the new employee. I’m supposed to start today.”

His eyes scanned you once more, this time more thoroughly, and you swallowed hard. Feeling as if you were being observed under a microscope, you slid your hands off of the counter and stuffed them into your pockets self-consciously. 

As he inspected you inch by inch, you took the time to take a closer look at him as well. With dyed blonde hair, two earrings in his left ear, an apparent nicotine addiction, and a noticeably flippant attitude toward his job, he was the definition of the type of man your parents would kill you for bringing home. Somehow, this only made him more intriguing. You wondered if he really was as disinterested in everything as he seemed or if it was just this job he thoroughly hated and became someone a lot more interesting when he wasn’t behind a counter.

“How old are you?” he asked out of the blue, catching you off guard a little. While he waited for you to answer, he set the newspaper to the side, dragged his feet from the counter top, and patted out some of the wrinkles from the white apron he had tied around his bright orange sweatshirt. 

“I’m 18,” you responded, not sure why it mattered but also not seeing any harm in answering honestly. 

Seconds later, the door to the back of the shop and storage room opened and the familiar face of the woman who had hired you stepped into view. “Oh, Y/N!” she greeted happily; much more enthusiastically and welcoming than her son. “Sorry about that, I was just getting some last minute things together.” She eyed her son out of the corner of her eye and noted the fresh embers in the ashtray. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“No, I just got here,” you told her. 

“Good.” She smiled sweetly before turning to her son. “Well, you can head out now, Keishin. Thank you for watching the counter.”

“Yeah,” the man, Keishin, grunted as he untied the apron from around his waist, slipped it over his head, and hung it up on a hook behind the counter. “See ya.”

With that, Keishin left, leaving you and his mother alone. Wasting no time, Mrs. Sakanoshita, whom the store was named after, got right to work on teaching you the basics and gifting you with a white apron of your own to wear while on the job. Since it was the middle of the day and the customer flow was relatively slow, she introduced you to how the register and scanner at the counter worked before moving on to unpacking boxes.

Just like you had promised on your resume and during the interview, you were a quick learner and Mrs. Sakanoshita was more than pleased to see you picking up the job quickly and efficiently. 

By the time the after work/school rush of patrons picking up items on their way home had begun, you were feeling confident in your abilities and, with your boss by your side to answer any questions you may have, you checked out customer after customer, building up muscle memory for scanning items, collecting cash, opening the register, handing out receipts, and sending customers on their merry way. 

All in all, the job was quickly growing on you. You liked the fact that, for the most part, you were the only employee on duty, so when there weren’t any customers in the store, you could work silently on unpacking boxes without having to worry about making small talk or being friendly with any coworkers. In fact, as far as you knew, the only people who worked at the store at all were you, Mrs. Sakanoshita, and her son, Keishin. 

It seemed as though you had really landed a sweet gig. 

After showing you how to lock up, Mrs. Sakanoshita headed home for the night, leaving you to finish stocking the shelves and cleaning the shop before you would head home as well.

Now that you were truly the only person left, you walked over to the old radio you had spotted on the counter during training that day and fiddled with the dials, trying to get some music playing to accompany you during your evening chores. After some careful handiwork and enduring some horrendous static and high-pitched screeching while searching for a station, you settled on what sounded like some old instrumental music and got to work on stocking the remaining shelves.

Throughout your shift, you quickly learned that the store got quite warm during the day and you had needed to tie your hair up to keep the back of your neck from dripping with sweat. The night wasn’t much better either, especially since the lack of customers so late meant that the doors rarely opened, keeping the cold night air outside and the warm store air inside. 

After finishing the last box of supplies, you exhaled and wiped your brow. You were exhausted, that was for sure, but you still had to sweep. 

Deciding to take a quick break, you turned toward the floor-to-ceiling fridges at the back of the shop and pulled open the door, sighing happily when the cool air hit your skin. Exhaling slowly, you snickered when you saw your breath fog up in front of you face. 

“You’re letting all the cold air out.”

You shrieked when you heard a voice in your right ear and slammed the fridge door shut, jumping back in the process. Thanks to the music from the radio and the loud hum of the generator that kept the fridges cold, you hadn’t heard the front doors slide open or the footsteps of Keishin approaching you.

“Jesus!” You clamped your hand over your chest. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Sorry?”

“What are you doing here?”

Keishin glared at you. “You work here one day and suddenly act like you own the place?”

Realizing how rude your question had come across, you composed yourself and rephrased. “What I meant was, your mom didn’t say you were coming back.”

Pointing upward, Keishin sighed, disinterested. “I live in the apartment above the shop.”

“Oh.” Things started making much more sense and you suddenly felt pretty embarrassed for how you had reacted. 

“Yeah . . . oh.” He rolled his eyes, but it didn’t come across necessarily rude but more like he was exhausted and you were adding to said exhaustion. “Why were you standing with the door open anyway?”

As he spoke, he stepped toward you. At first, your feet felt cemented to the floor and you didn’t move. But when he persisted closer, you eventually stumbled back and Keishin opened the fridge door you had been standing in front of to grab a beer from inside. With drink in hand, he eyed you once again, waiting for an answer.

“It’s really hot,” you said, gesturing to his orange sweater. “I don’t know how you wear that thing in here.”

Looking down at his apparel, he just shrugged. “You’ll get used to it.” He turned and started for the counter, presumably to pay for the drink he had just taken. “In the future, stand outside if you’re warm.”

“Okay.” You nodded, mindlessly tailing him. You had to grab the broom from behind the counter anyway, but that was the furthest thing from the front of your mind at that moment. If anything, you were still trying to calm down a little from being startled and now being alone with your boss’s son. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He popped the tab on the beer, settled into the stool behind the counter, and downed at least half of the drink in a few large gulps. 

You watched him, probably a little too closely, and as you did you found yourself reexamining the features you had taken note of earlier that day: the dyed blonde hair held out of his face with a thin black headband, the natural brown hair that peeked out from the roots, the two small silver hoop earrings in his left ear, the scent of cigarette smoke that clung to him like how the smell of rain clung to the air after a heavy storm. 

Noticing your gaze, which would have been nearly impossible to miss, Keishin quirked a brow at you and held out the can of beer toward you. “You want a sip?”

Startled from your thoughts, you shook your head. “I’m only 18.” You reminded him.

“Oh, right.” He withdrew the can and took another sip, this one much smaller than the first few. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

Eyes wide, you thought quick to come up with an excuse. “The broom.” You pointed to the item behind him. “Can you pass me the broom?”

After handing you the broom, Keishin pulled a slip of paper and a pen out from his pocket and started writing and scribbling things down, sipping the remainder of his beer occasionally and ignoring you completely. 

Trying to avoid staring at Keishin anymore than you already had, you started sweeping at the far end of the store and left the area around and behind the counter for last. Eventually, though, you had worked your way back over to the the silent man and was forced to clean the floor behind where he was sitting, trying hard not to disturb him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of what he was so focused on; it looked like a crude drawing of a volleyball court. “What’s that?” you asked, the words leaving your mouth before you realized you were being rude again and snooping.

Keishin, however, didn’t seem angry or annoyed in the slightest. “Volleyball positions,” he huffed. It was clear he was growing frustrated.

“You play volleyball?”

He shook his head and looked over his shoulder at you. “I used to. Now I coach the boy’s team at Karasuno.”

“I went to Karasuno,” you said mindlessly, just trying to make conversation at that point. 

He hummed in response and turned his attention back to the sheet before him. “Did you play volleyball?”

“No. Soccer.”

“Do you still play?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Do you still play volleyball?”

“With a neighbourhood association sometimes . . . but not really.”

“Why?”

The corners of his mouth curling up into a smirk, Keishin looked back to you once more. “I asked you first.”

“It’s not a good answer.” You leaned against the broom handle and sighed. “Don’t have the time.”

“You’re young and just graduated high school. You’ve got nothing but time.”

“Not with this job.”

Keishin scoffed, folded the paper, and shoved it back into his pocket with the pen. “Speaking of which, why would you take such a boring job at a store like this?”

You just shrugged. “I need the money.”

“Don’t you live with your parents?”

“That’s the problem,” you said, noticing the confusion on his face. “I told you it wasn’t a good answer.”

“Do they know you work here?”

“Do they know? Yes,” you answered truthfully. “Do they like it? Absolutely not.”

Keishin grinned at that before finishing his beer and tossing the empty can into the recycling bin beside the front door. “So you’re one of those teens, huh?”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Trust me, kid, pissing off your parents just for the sake of it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“You think I’m doing all this just because I can?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Why then?”

“That story’s too long and convoluted for me to recite right now . . . especially to some old dude I just met today.”

Keishin chuckled under his breath, hands stuffed into his pockets as he headed for the door at the back of the shop so he could head upstairs to his apartment. “’Old dude’,” he repeated, clearly amused. “Don’t forget to lock up before you go home.”

As he turned his back to you, your curiosity got the better of you. “How old are you?”

Stopping in his tracks, Keishin pulled out a carton of cigarettes from his pants’ pocket along with a lighter. After placing the smoke between his lips, he lit it and inhaled deeply. “Too old for you, sweetheart,” he spoke while exhaling, smoke spilling from his lips as he smirked at you. 

With that, he disappeared into the back. You wanted to shout after him that you had told him how old you were without hesitation when he had asked, but you stayed silent instead. 

As much as his presence unnerved you and his superiority complex aggravated you, you still found yourself inexplicably drawn to him. Maybe it was because he seemed completely disinterested in you, or maybe it was because he was everything you were always told to stay away from. 

The one thing you did know, however, was that if everyone around you was going to keep trying to convince you they knew how you should live your life better than you did, you were going to prove to them just how they wrong they were one way or another. 

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Graveyard Siblings (5)

[Masterlink] (PART 1) (PART 4)

-----

Mari and Cass sometimes switch their suits as they have the same body type. Cass would sometimes go out in full Hellbat gear and give the appearance that Hellbat is out more often than she actually is.

So Orphan/Black Bat also sometimes uses guns.

This also helps with concealing secret identities. Maria was rescued by Hellbat from Joker’s Henchmen. (Vicki Vale was getting sus of the new Wayne and Hellbat.)

Unfortunately since Hellbat rarely comes out and she had already made all of her appearance for the month and it wasn’t a busy weekend, the public had come to the conclusion that Hellbat has a crush on the newest Wayne.

Basically everyone thought that Mari has a crush on herself. Which led to some teasing and escalated to Mari announcing that Jason had a crush on Red Hood on live TV.

It didn’t help that a video of Red Hood and Jason re-enacting Romeo and Juliet with Jason on his apartment balcony and Red Hood on the roof was posted on the internet a few days later. (Thank you, Trixx and Tim’s awesome video editing skills)

Sadly, it was taken down 24 hours later. (Tim and the others have multiple copies of it, on the cloud or hardware, hidden around in the manor and their respective safehouses in the US.)

Some people kidnapped Jason to hopefully gain leverage over the Red Hood and to their dismay and nightmares for years to come, Hellbat came instead.

One lucky and incredibly brave reporter asked why she was there instead of her brother.

Mari being a little shit, “Red Hood may be a tough and scary guy but when it comes to his feelings, my brother is a chicken.”

Pictures of Jason tackling Hellbat somehow never made it into any papers.

The criminal underworld hasn’t taken a hint and Jason has been kidnapped a few more times.

Other times Jason was kidnapped:

Robin: Red Hood made a fool of himself in front of Todd recently and he doesn’t dare to show his face.

Spoiler: He was taking too damn long checking his hair even though I told him that no one was going to see it under his helmet and he was so offended that he is currently sulking in the bathroom.

Red Robin: Red Hood can’t think straight when he is around Jason. I mean have you seen the dude.

Arsenal*during a rare visit to Gotham*: Red Hood owes me one now.

Dick finally ends it by going out as Red Hood and rescuing Jason. Gotham is happy that Redson (Red Hood x Jason) ship has finally sailed.

-------

Kate, Babs, Cass, Steph and Mari were out on Mari’s first girls’ night since her move to the manor.

This is set a little after she came back from Paris with Jason.

They watched rom-com movies, did hair and nails, gossip about the superhero community and bitch and vent to each other.

Marinette off-handedly mentioned the crazy shits she had done during her stint as Ladybug. It started with asking about the T-rex in the Batcave and she mentions jumping into the mouth of a live one before.

Everyone in the room was shocked and after a few more questions, it was obvious that she was very reckless and self-sacrificing. Yep, she was going to fit into this crazy family just fine.

And Holy Shit. There is so much trauma packed into this kid. She needs lots of therapy.

Babs finally decided that they all needed to get out and have some fun. All in their respective suits and they went out.

Joined by Harley, Ivy and Selina.

Plagg came along because I want Plagg to meet Selina.

It was a chaotic night and it was a miracle that Bruce didn’t find out about what the girls did.

-------

Batman and Red Hood were on patrol together when Selina jumped in front of them.

“Hello, Boys”

“What do you want, Catwoman?”

“I want to meet my new prodigy, Kitty Noire.”

Cue Marinette jumping down from her hiding spot, transformed with the Black Cat Miraculous. “Hiya.”

Red Hood carries her like a potato sack and points his gun at the other two.

“Nope, she’s my sister and I called dibs. I adopted her. She’s off limits.”

“Legally, she’s mine.” Batman coughed out.

“I did it first. Emotionally. She’s my emotional support sister. You have plenty kids already, B and Selina, get your own.”

“Hey, I am still here and can hear you.”- Maria

-------

Alya was worried for Lila. She had been acting weirdly for the past month.

She looked very out of sorts. Her clothes weren’t in order and her hair was in disarray. She had bags under her eyes and her eyes looked wild. Lila didn’t look like herself at all.

She jumped at any sound and flinched at really sudden movements.

Alya tried to find out what was wrong with Lila and received vague answers.

One time Lila said that Marinette is to blame.

Alya reaches the somewhat right conclusion that Marinette was haunting Lila and hurting her because Lila used to come to school with bruises and claims that Marinette did it.

Alya goes to Marinette’s grave to desecrate it. (Yeah, go anger the ghost that is haunting someone.)

Unfortunately, the moment she tries to do something, the sky turns dark, clouds appear and the wind begins whipping. A Lightning strike near her and there was a cloaked figure beside her with a scythe.

All Alya saw from the figure was the blood-red lips in a very sharp grin and glowing blue eyes, raising the scythe high before she ran away. The scythe swiped the air where her head once was.

Alya didn’t get far before she tripped and blacked out.

When she woke up, she found herself in the hospital with no idea how she got there.

She was told that somebody found her with a concussion in the park and took her to the hospital.

------

The next one on Mari’s hit list was Natalie.

She wasn’t as involved in the whole thing like Lila, Adrien or Gabriel but she still did it anyways.

Her punishment is a little mild compared to the others and was more of a warning to Gabriel.

Natalie woke up in the middle of the night to see a not-so-dead Ladybug sitting on her vanity chair with the moonlight from the windows illuminating her body and her neck. Her suit was torn exactly like the day of that battle with blood dripping down her arms and from her open wounds. The shadows kept her face hidden but glowing blue eyes stared at her.

Natalie was scared at first. But she regained her normal cool composure.

“I assume you are here to extract your revenge for aiding in your unfortunate demise. But before you kill me, I regret my part in my entire thing and I apologize for everything I have done against you even though I knew it was wrong.”

“At least you show remorse over what you have done. Visiting my grave when even my parents didn’t and leaving flowers. I love those purple hyacinths by the way. Did you know that they mean sorry in the language of the flowers?”

“Why are you stalling my death? Just kill me already.”

“Madam Sancouer. You just played a minor role in my downfall compared to what Adrien and Lila Rossi did to me. And you showed more guilt over your actions than they ever did and Adrien claimed to have loved me. And like I have told the Bats, Death is too swift of a punishment.”

“Who are the bats?”

“None of your concern. You should be more concerned about yourself.”

“Lila sees the ghosts of her past and they haunt her. Adrien is in a living nightmare and has no control over his actions and is despised by everyone. What are you going to do to me?”

“Well, since you show some guilt over your actions, let me tell you a little secret. I am not dead. Not really. I mean I did die. But there was a spell in the grimoire that revived me. It took a few days to work.”

Marinette changed to her normal form. It was a little jarring to see an older Marinette Dupain-Cheng sitting on her vanity chair like it was a throne. The Ladybug suit and the wounds were gone. She looked a little familiar.

“Why are you telling me this? What was the point?” Natalie faltered as she wondered why the girl looked familiar. Marinette moved closer and her face was fully illuminated by the moonlight.

“I intend to take everything by which I mean everything from Gabriel Agreste for what he did.”

“M. Agreste just wanted his wife back. You just gave him your Miraculous, you would still have everything.”

“What difference would it make? Sure I had friends and family before but they turned out to be disappointing. I might have become a famous designer like I dreamed of and can't achieve because I died. Besides, he never said about wanting his wife to come back in his tedious monologues. For all we knew back then, he wanted them for world domination. He showed that he would end the world for them. For kwamis’ sake, he nearly started World War III, just for a pair of earring and a ring. He was willing to kill me to have her back. No wait, he did that too. If he actually read the translated grimoire or asked the Guardian or at least someone with magic for help instead or maybe used his head and made some who can heal as his champion using the Butterfly, we wouldn’t even be in this mess. Face it, Mme Sancour, your boss is a power-hungry and very controlling maniac who is also thankfully an idiot.”

“But- he- he just-. You are just a child, what do you know? M. Agreste knew what he was doing.”

“A child who had a normal life up until he tried to ruin it with his idiotic schemes and hiring Lila to do it. A child who had to fight a war on her own.”

“I am sorry you had to go through that but I doubt you and your little revenge rampage is going to solve anything.”

Ghostly Chains wrapped around Natalie’s body, squeezing tight like it was squeezing the life out of her.

“I was all for sparing you, you know. If you had actually listened to my side of the story, you would have spared from my ‘little revenge rampage’. This is going to be a little painful. Sorry about that.” In a tone that was definitely not sorry.

Pain coursed through Natalie’s body. Her skin crawled and itched as pitch back feathers grew out of it. Her bones turned to dust and reformed.

Where Natalie Sancour once was, there was a raven.

An omen of death and destruction for one Gabriel Agreste.

Marinette leaned down towards the raven. Natalie tried to peck her eye out but Marinette held the beak in a firm grip.

“Ah. ah ah. Luckily for you this is temporary. Mostly. Every night, you will assume this shape and each night the longer you will stay in this form. Slowly counting down the days until Gabriel’s downfall. Since you love helping him so much, you are going to help him know how long he has to live. The night you are a raven from sunset to sunrise, that sunrise starts the day Gabriel Agreste will be utterly destroyed.”

She released the beak and headed towards the window.

"Send him my regards."

With that, she was gone.

(Part 6)

[radishreader]

I stood in my dining room surrounded by toys and the remnants of dinner from the night before sticking to the bottom of my feet. In the kitchen, a bag of trash was tipped over, its innards strewn across the floor. In the living room, a week’s worth of laundry had been waiting two weeks to be folded.

It was 9:45 a.m., and already I was exhausted. I’d come home at midnight the night before, only to have to wake up at 5 a.m. with my toddler son and then take him and his sister to school, before cleaning for the cleaning lady. I had four hours of childcare and two stories to write. My husband was at work; I was here with the mess.

I was 33, a mother of two, and bone-tired. I didn’t want the laundry and chores to be the rest of my life. I didn’t want to always be drowning in work and childcare and housecleaning and dinner, bearing the brunt of the labor. I’d spent the past two years begging for help with the kids and housework, only to be told that I could just quit my job if it was all too much. “It’s not too much,” I’d said over and over. “It’s just not all my job.”

Standing in the dining room, overwhelmed with the weight of my life, I broke.

The next day, in couples therapy, I asked for a divorce.

--------

Ten months before, I’d signed my first book contract. I signed the contract on my 33rd birthday, and it was a dream come true. I had spent 11 years writing three failed novels. One failed memoir. I’d attended an MFA program and then wrote a book proposal that hadn’t sold.

So we had children and I spent five years as a stay-at-home mother, writing in the crevices of my life—the late nights and early mornings. I had tried to find a job, but in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, jobs for writers were hard to find and plus, I’d done them all—proofreader, editor of a tae kwon do magazine, proposal writer, freelance columnist, marketing copywriter, college composition instructor, continuing education instructor teaching Word and Excel to people laid off during the recession.

We’d moved to Cedar Rapids for my husband’s dream job in 2005, and the plan was always that, eventually, we’d move for me. But each year passed and we never did. Once we had kids, even though his job was flexible and his boss was accommodating, I realized it would never be my turn. So I began freelancing like a maniac: sending late-night pitches to editors, conducting interviews while my whining toddler chased me around the park, leaving a trail of fruit snacks in his wake. I’d transcribe interviews and hear the echoes of Curious George in the background of the recordings.

Later I got some bylines and then, after years of work, in 2016, everything changed. An article I wrote got the attention of a university press; they wanted a book. Months later an editor at a different publishing house had been impressed by my writing and suggested a book based on a series I had written for the website Jezebel about motherhood and mythology.

In seven months I had two book deals.

It would be a lot more work; I knew that. But we could make it work. He had achieved his dream. Now I would achieve mine. What I needed was just a little help. Getting it was harder than I’d expected.

Ours was not a new story. It’s the story of every heterosexual couple in America. Statistically, women do more childcare and more housework, and it’s only getting worse in a pandemic, when all the safety nets we used to fill in the gaps are gone. No more house cleaners or nannies. No more daycare or even normal school. No more aging parents helping us. Nothing but us and the yawning gap in equality between us.

In the end I started writing the first book in stolen moments. Cobbling together money for babysitters meant wringing out paltry freelance checks. Orchestrating research trips felt like creating a Rube Goldberg machine—prepare freezer meals in advance, line up extra sitters, friends, maybe a grandma could come from out of town? My good friend Mel handled the dance recital’s dress rehearsal, complete with hair and makeup, and sent me a video of the practice. Somehow there was still never clean laundry. So I did what working women have done forever: I outsourced more. I hired a house cleaner, although my husband protested.

I didn’t get to write the bulk of that book until I landed a residency that would give me the break I needed. While I was gone, my son had walking pneumonia and fell and cut his lip at the Children’s Museum. My family told me I was being selfish. I needed to be with my children. “They have a father!” I shouted, “What about him?” I wrote 70,000 words in 30 days, because I knew if I didn’t write it then, I’d never be able to do it. The very next month, I stood in that toy-strewn dining room, cracking under the pressure. Then I moved out....

[luminnara]

The Dismemberment Song PART 2 | BOP Victor Zsasz x Reader | 18+

Fandom: Birds of Prey

Words:

Summary: Zsasz takes a liking to one of the burlesque dancers at Roman’s club. It turns out the two have a little history together...and they both want to do something about their unresolved tension.

PART ONE | PART TWO 

Thanks so much for reading!! I really really hope you like this, because BOP Zsasz needs more love and attention, and I, for one, am determined to give it to him! 

Words: 3,666

Warnings: Alcohol, blood, violence, mutilation, that good good smutty smut (oral, penetration), kinda dom!Zsasz

Requests are open!!

You had never been in Roman Sionis’s penthouse. It was strictly off limits to anyone he didn’t personally invite, and you didn’t even think that his favorite little bird, Dinah Lance, had been up there. Now, though, here you were, stepping out of the elevator with Zsasz on your heels as you marveled at the converted loft. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed, looking around. 

Roman’s place was filled with weird art, all sorts of exotic masks sitting on pedestals or hanging on the walls. There was a long, dark dinner table with a decorative fruit platter sitting in the center, and an open floor plan allowed to see the spacious living room surrounded by huge walls of windows that overlooked the East End. It was the perfect blend of luxurious and industrial for someone like Roman, and you sighed as you imagined yourself living somewhere so nice.

“‘Sthat all about?” Zsasz asked in that rough, low, almost drawling voice.

“Just admiring the view,” you said as you left him to go stand before the windows.

“Yeah,” Zsasz agreed. “It’s nice.”

But his eyes were on you, not the Gotham skyline.

“Do you stay here with him?” You asked, turning to look at Roman’s henchman with a bright, exuberant smile on your face, as if you hadn’t just murdered a man onstage in the club.

“I do.” Zsasz approached you, hands in his pockets as he moved in that watchful, predatory way you always saw him slinking around with. “I’ve gotta protect the boss. He needs me.”

“You must do a pretty good job of it.” You mused. Now that you were confident that Roman wasn’t going to have Zsasz peel your face off, you were allowing yourself to relax again.

“It’s my job.” He said simply, coming to stand behind you. He was so close that you could smell his cologne, his breath hot on your neck as he leaned in.

You froze.

His chest was brushing your back and you were almost certain he could hear the way your heart was hammering away in your chest. You held perfectly still, not daring to move a muscle as Zsasz brought a hand up to brush your bloodstained curls away from your shoulder.

His fingers were rough, calloused, and warm, just like the rest of him, his hands big and strong enough that you were confident he could kill you unarmed in the blink of an eye. The weird, sadistic side of you would welcome it; though you had never admitted it to anybody before, you were pretty sure that Victor Zsasz was the only man you would ever allow to kill you.

You could remember the first time you met him, years ago, when he and Roman came to your old gig to convince you to start up at the Black Mask. He had less scars back then, but still the same bleached hair and that fucking handsome stubble on his jaw. You had been entranced as you watched him follow your eventual employer around, the club owner giving them their own corner booth and all the bottle service that Roman Sionis could possibly want.

You could remember how your legs had turned to jelly when the shift manager sent you over to them, but you must have managed to hide it well, because you spent the rest of the night drinking and partying with Roman fucking Sionis. Then, obviously, one thing led to another, and you had gone to work for him.

The part you had never told anyone about, though, the part you never spoke of, was the part where Zsasz had taken you into a vip room.

You didn’t remember all the details about everything that night, but you could still recall every moment you spent on his lap. Every appreciative squeeze he gave your ass and thighs, every low moan he let out as you rocked your hips with his. You still dreamt about it once in a while, even though you were sure that it had all been something about Roman making his lackey inspect the goods before hiring you.

But still...you had loved it.

He always wore his shirts unbuttoned a fair ways down to show off the scars on his upper chest, but that night, you had gotten to see more. You could remember how you had run your fingers over them, and the way that Zsasz had watched you almost reverently. You didn’t know exactly why he etched them into himself, if it was to intimidate everyone or for some personal reason, but you didn’t find them odd or ugly. You loved the raised scar tissue and the way it felt, so smooth to the touch despite looking so gnarled, and it was one of the many reasons you had always harbored a secret liking for Victor Zsasz.

Now, as he stood so close behind you, you felt that same jelly in your legs.

“You should get cleaned up, kitten.” He said in that low voice. “The boss wouldn’t want you making a mess.”

You tilted your head slightly, watching him out of the corner of your eye. “Why don’t you show me to the shower then, Zsasz?”

It came out more sultry than you had intended, but when he responded by pressing his hips into your ass, you were glad. He caught the way your breath hitched in your throat, his eyes trained on yours as he did nothing but stare at you for a few agonizingly long moments.

“Right this way, Princess.” He finally broke away.

You brushed off your mild disappointment, mentally chastising yourself for hoping that would have gone further, and followed him down a hallway, passing a few closed doors before reaching one that stood open. When Victor stepped in and flipped the light switch, you stood and gawked at what awaited you.

Of course Roman Sionis would have the nicest guest bathroom in Gotham.

It was huge, a claw foot tub sitting against the wall across from the sink while a shower was situation at the far end. Everything was off-white and antique gold, simple and elegant and clearly very expensive.

“Holy shit,” you said under your breath, for the second time that night. “Roman doesn’t skimp out, does he?”

“The boss has expensive taste.” Zsasz said, following you in. “Get in the shower.”

You turned and looked at him. “Little privacy might be nice.”

He only stared back.

“Zsasz...?” You gave a little nod towards the door.

“Oh,” he chuckled, laughing to himself as if something had slipped his mind. “Course. Privacy.”

He turned and shut the door, still in the room with you.

You sighed.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Can’t leave you alone in here unattended.” He said, stepping towards you. “You might slip and fall.”

His voice was slightly menacing, in a way that had you almost wondering if he wasn’t going to find a way to kill you and stage your death as an accident. But you were confident in yourself. If he made any funny moves, you could get him before he got you.

Maybe.

“Fine.” You jutted your chin out defiantly. “Then why don’t you make yourself useful and go warm up the water for me while I get out of this robe?”

You expected him to roll his eyes and sneer, but he didn’t. He didn’t even refuse. He just walked right over, slid the glass shower door to the side, and turned the water on. Just like that. Obediently, as if he actually wanted to. You were so dumbfounded by it that by the time he glanced back towards you, you were still standing there, completely dressed.

He looked a bit disappointed.

“Well?” He asked.

“What? Oh.” You untied your fancy little robe and let it fall onto the tiles, still looking straight at him.

You could see his eyes trailing down your body, those dark circles under them giving him a hungry, starved look. When you hooked your thumbs in the sides of your thong and pulled it down, you saw his chest rising and falling as his breaths quickened slightly.

You smirked. Yeah, like Roman had said, Zsasz was harmless. If he had wanted to kill you, he would have by now. He’d already had a dozen chances on the way up to the penthouse.

As you walked toward the shower, he stepped to the side, seeming for a moment as if he was content to let you go in and enjoy the hot water in peace. Of course he wasn’t, though;

This was Victor Zsasz.

“Wait.” He caught your wrist just before you could step in and you were vaguely aware of the blade he flicked open with his other hand. “You need a mark.”

“What?” You stepped back, allowing him to pull you up to him.

“A mark.” He tapped one of the scars on the side of his face with the knife. “For your kill. Where do you want it?”

You weren’t sure what to say. You had never kept track of the lives you took, but...it really wasn’t that bad an idea. Plus, it seemed like Zsasz wasn’t giving you the option to refuse.

Double plus, it was kind of sexy to imagine him carving you up.

“Here.” you finally said, pointing to the center of your chest. 

Zsasz grinned, showing off those gold teeth that you loved so much. He kept his grip on your wrist but lowered your arm to your side, his knife pressing against the thin skin above your sternum. His touch was feather light, no doubt thanks to years and years of butchering people, both for Roman and for his own pleasure. He new exactly how hard to press in which areas, an expert in the art of slicing through flesh. The steel of his blade was cool and freshly sharpened, gliding along and drawing an angry, but beautiful, red line as blood oozed up and began running down your torso.

 As he dragged the knife down, you let out a hiss of discomfort, pitching forward slightly in pain. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours as his blade cut deeper, deeper, nearly down to the bone, and by the time he was finished, you had a four inch long gash ending at the top of your cleavage that was sure to scar marvelously. 

You looked down at it in wonder. Zsasz had done it so...beautifully. He made it so important, this new tally mark. And as you gazed at it, you realized you loved it because he made it. Victor Zsasz, one of Gotham City’s most fucked up criminals, had given you a scar. For somebody just as fucked up as him...well, it practically brought tears to your eyes.

Victor didn’t give you a chance to get weepy. He dropped the bloody knife into the spotless white sink, the blade clattering loudly above the sound of the shower. Zsasz moved his thumb to your new cut, pressing it against the wound and then bringing it up to his mouth to lick your blood off. 

“Zsasz,” you whispered. 

“Victor.” his voice rumbled as he let go of your wrist. “Call me Victor.”

Then his hands were on you, one squeezing your tit while the other grabbed your ass. You gasped in surprise, but his mouth silenced you almost immediately. The kiss was rough, his lips nicked with a few scars, but he was good and you immediately melted against him. He was devouring you, as if he been starved of any attention for years, and maybe he had been. He was hungry for you, insistent, determined, practically begging for more as a low moan rose in his throat. 

Your knees were weak, and you had to break the kiss to catch your breath before you collapsed. You wanted more, though, needed to feel more of him, your hands ripping open his nice designer button down. He wasn’t even mad that you had just sent half the buttons flying around the bathroom, because your fingers were already trailing over the scars that covered his chest, then dipping down to run across his hips. 

His skin was smooth, wherever it was free of tally marks, and incredibly hot to the touch. While you explored, your lips latched onto his neck, kissing and biting and sucking in a way that he hadn’t anticipated. Zsasz was used to being the demanding one, but he wasn’t about to complain that you were so determined to leave some marks of your own. 

Your hands ghosted up over his pecs and then down his abs, and you hummed in appreciation as you felt the neatly groomed hair on his chest. When your hands dipped lower and lower and finally found his belt, he suddenly growled and grabbed your wrists, and your head snapped up to look at him. 

“Shower. Now.” he ordered, eyes dark. 

You obeyed, slipping away from him and stepping into the shower. You could hear him undressing, and as you sighed happily at the feeling of the warm water on your skin, he came to join you.

The shower was more than big enough for the two of you, but he didn’t want to give you any space. He backed you up against the wall, his lips immediately crashing down on yours as he pushed himself up against you. You could feel his hard on pressing into your thigh and whimpered in anticipation, a shiver going straight down to your pussy.

Fuck.

You wanted him so fucking much.

“V-Victor,” you whispered as he leaned back from the kiss. You couldn’t help rubbing your thighs together, trying to alleviate the ache that was quickly building up.

“I wanna hear you purr for me, kitten.” He rasped, his big, warm hand drifting down to your cunt. He found your clit immediately, teasing it, reveling in every gasp and cry you let out for him.

He wanted nothing more than to get down on his knees and worship you with his mouth, but he could be patient.

“You know, when I saw you there, on the stage...” he said as he drew lazy circles around your clit, “...I couldn’t look away...”

“R-really?” You gasped, arching your back as you sucked in a breath.

“Mhm.” He pressed a finger into you. “So fuckin’ beautiful, the way you carved him up...”

You squealed at his touch, the sound like music to his ears. He liked it even more than the sound of his victims screaming...though he was confident you’d be doing plenty of that, too.

“Never knew such a pretty little birdie like you could do somethin’ like that...” he said, slowly pulling his finger out and then pushing it back in again. “All that blood...”

“I-I’ve killed plenty of times,” you gasped, nails digging into his arms as you clung to him. 

“I could tell...you made it look like art...” he suddenly added a second finger, shoving them both in until the rest of his knuckles were pressing against your labia and he had nowhere else to go. 

You let out a loud whine, wanting more, needing more. Before you could demand anything of him, though, he was kneeling in front of you, practically reading your mind as he leaned in to replace his fingers with his mouth. 

You hadn’t expected him to be so skilled, but then again, you hadn’t really expected any of this to be happening tonight. 

He was eating you out as if you were his last meal, as if he hadn’t had food in weeks, as if he was starving. Zsasz was desperate, lapping up all the wetness from your pussy as if it was the only thing keeping him alive, his moans vibrating against your skin. His hair was too short to tangle your fingers in, but you still tried, nails scratching his scalp in a tantalizing way while he gripped your thighs hard enough to leave little red marks behind. 

“F-fuck,” you moaned, leaning your head back against the wall and tensing as he sucked on your clit. Little jolts were running through you, sparks that almost felt electric. Your limbs were tingling as your orgasm built, and as it finally spilled over, you found yourself whining and gasping and chanting his name over and over, holding onto him tightly as he licked at you greedily. 

Zsasz loved it. He wanted you to need him, and he loved the sounds he could pull from you. He could keep going all night, burying his face between your thighs and worshipping you, but now, he wanted more. 

“Turn around.” he said as he stood, licking his lips. 

You nodded, still in a daze as you turned and braced yourself against the wall. He grabbed your hip in one hand and his cock in the other, rubbing the head against your swollen, wet pussy. Next time, he would have you suck him off. Maybe he would ask you to wake him up with a blowjob in the morning.  But now, tonight, he was hungry to feel you around him, and as he slowly slid into you, he savored every moment of it. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, tossing his head back as he buried himself in your heat. “You’re fuckin perfect, kitten...”

You moaned back, the feeling of his thick cock stretching your pussy around it causing you to momentarily forget your words. As he drew out and then snapped his hips forward, you grunted, biting down on your lip as you closed your eyes. He felt incredible, rubbing past all the right spots inside of you as he found a rhythm he liked and began fucking you mercilessly. His hands were grabbing you wherever they could, be it your hips or tits or hair, and as he fell further and further into his desire for you, you could feel his chest brushing over your back as he leaned down. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he growled, nipping at your ear. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-you,” you choked out, trying to turn and look at him. “I-I belong to you, Victor...”

“Good girl.” he snarled, squeezing the side of your ass cheek as hard as he could. 

The moan you let out was absolutely filthy, and as your pussy squeezed around him, you felt yourself beginning to come undone once more. He pounded into you and your moans and cries grew louder and louder, a symphony of pleasure as you climaxed, and Zsasz followed soon after, moaning your name in your ear as he filled you up. Your pussy milked him, squeezing every last drop out of his cock, and as he caught his breath, you could feel him pressing lazy kisses against the back of your neck. 

“Fuck,” he panted. 

You straightened up and he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you against his chest as he refused to let you go. It was quiet for a moment as you both came down from your highs, the sound of the shower the only thing breaking the silence. Finally, he allowed you to turn around, and as you faced him, you saw a surprisingly serene expression on his face. 

“Stay with me.” he said. It was less of a request and more of a demand.

“What about Roman?” you asked, legs still quivering. 

“The boss’ll understand.”

And that was that.

Zsasz washed the blood off of your skin, insisting that you let him do all the work, and afterwards, he gave you a plush bathrobe to wear. You spent the night in Victor’s bed, and you did wake him up with a surprise blowjob, even without him asking you to. After a round of morning sex, you walked out into the penthouse in your bathrobe to see Roman Sionis already sitting at the table, and for a moment, you froze. You had almost forgotten where you were, and there was your boss, Gotham’s newest and nastiest godfather, spreading some cream cheese on a gourmet bagel.

“Ah,” he said, glancing up as he heard you. “You’re still here.”

“I...uh...” 

“Mornin’, boss.” Victor said, walking out behind you. He was fully dressed, looking and acting as if he hadn’t taken home a girl the night before. 

“The car is waiting for you.” Roman grunted, far more interested in his breakfast than he was in the conversation. “Be quick about it.”

Zsasz bowed his head and turned to you, holding his hand out expectantly. When you only stared at him, he almost rolled his eyes. “Your house keys, princess.”

“My...what?” you asked. “For what?”

“So I can get your things.”

“What things?”

“You’re moving in.” Roman said dismissively, as if it were obvious. 

“...What?”

“You’ve been promoted. Or did you forget?” he asked, giving you a look that suggested he was already tired of your questions. “You’ll be staying here, until you either die, or I fire you, or both. Now, be a dear and give Mr. Zsasz your keys, so that he can get your necessities. I’ll have some new clothes ordered for you this afternoon.”

You stared at him for a moment and then looked at Victor. “They’re in my bag down in the dressing room. But--”

Before you had a chance to finish and tell him that this really wasn’t necessary, he was already gone, calling the elevator so that he could obediently go down to the club and rummage through your purse. You had no doubt that he could get into your locker on his own, and as much as you really didn’t want or need him to go to the effort, you weren’t entirely mad about it. Living with Victor--and Roman--didn’t seem like that bad a deal, and if it meant that you’d get to have more fun with Zsasz, you were all in. 

“Well, glad that’s settled.” Roman said, sitting back and wiping the edge of his mouth with a fancy little cloth napkin. “Welcome to the Sionis penthouse, Princess.”

[pretty-face-breaker]

WIJ Prompt: Sleep

CW. creepy whumper, pet names, implied murder, blood stains, forced to get rid of evidence for a killer, past consensual torture, coercive relationship

@whumpmasinjuly

Timeline: A few months before Hayko escapes

— At its corner, the desk clock read 2:00 am. 

The light of the lamp fell on his hand as he wrote, eyes skipping the document before he turned the page to give the pen a healthy shake. Then, it was from the top again with the court file number, judicial centre, applicant. Down until his hand hung off of the desk. He seemed to only breathe once a page.

He had been dealing with paperwork for the past few hours but for Hayko, filling in blanks was like second nature as riding a bike might be for someone. Just as they would know when to lift their hips for an oncoming bump, he knew where to push the nib hard enough that the ink wouldn’t swipe and smear the space. By muscle memory, he crossed every t and dotted each i but ensured, as each page filled up, to go back and check. 

Two empty fruit bar wrappers sat near him beside an empty mug - all he had eaten since the single boiled egg and tea in the morning - which wasn’t his proudest meal plan but there was work to be done for next week. Crisis had struck. One of the cartel’s major benefactors was on trial for embezzlement. 

He wanted to laugh.  

Hayko sighed, letting the fountain pen click down before stretching up to the ceiling and then back. The exercise was useful when he needed a reminder that he had bones that weren’t made for crouching over a desk for hours at a time.  

“Good morning.” 

The seat almost toppled back as Hayko flinched and darted his eyes to the doorway of the other man’s room. “Jesus, you scared me, Nick.” He stood up quickly, fingers leaning on the desk for support when his head suddenly began to spin and his vision blacked out for a moment. 

Looking at his figure in the doorway, they suddenly felt colder.

“Working late again, busy bee? You should be asleep.” Nick wasn’t moving from the doorway, just leaning on one shoulder and just out of the perimeter that the light would allow him to be seen. It was all too dark to tell, but Hayko felt like he was smiling.

He smiled nervously in response, dragging his hands closer to him. “Always.” They held a long look under the benevolent layer of darkness before Nick ripped it away by stepping forward, then again until the yellow light of the desk lamp crawled up to his face. When Hayko saw his face, he was silently surprised at having guessed correctly that he was smiling.

Then, he saw his shirt. 

Nick must have noticed the immobile terror in his face because he chuckled. It rumbled in his ear, signalling a little involuntary shiver up the man’s back. “Don’t worry, doll. It’s not mine.” 

His fingertips were chilled against the desk now as Hayko kept his eyes locked on the bloodstains, of which there were plenty, clotting near the buttons at the waist, splattered across his sleeves, and painting a grimly neat stripe up to his collar. The glaring light of the bulb brought out their faint redness but mostly, it looked like Nick had painted the shirt black. 

“Th-... then whose?” He’d been meaning to ask. Hayko breaths mellowed as Nick began sliding off his watch and walking over. When it was off, he dropped it behind him with a thunk that made him blink. Right on the court order, too, he thought.

He should have been asleep by now. He should have gone to bed before he got home because then, he wouldn’t have to be dealing with him in the late hours. Nick was different at night, less human, and not in his humanity but his general appearance.  

Nick’s hands travelled to his waistband and plucked the dress shirt from his pants, not hesitating to start immediately unbuttoning. For courtesy, he turned at an angle to the bed next to the desk, facing the headboard as he took off the stained shirt. His chest was splattered with fainter spots of blood. Those would be easier missed and Hayko was glad they were. 

He finally found enough courage to bring his hands fully to his sides but not enough to look at him as he undressed, not out of disgust of the bloodstains but out of awkwardness. Never really figuring out where to look any time Nick undressed in front of him - although he probably would prefer it to be at him - Hayko let his eyes wander to the floor. 

“Is that all you ate today?” Nick was looking at the empty wrappers and mug, skipping the pile of paperwork entirely in a way that made Hayko redden a little for the mess.

He anxiously scraped the tiny crack in the floorboard made by his chair. “Yeah, um... ‘didn’t have much time for much else.” While technically not true, he thought, it wasn’t that he had the appetite for anything more either. With the recent heat-wave that had overwhelmed the city, he could hardly remember to eat without Nick being the one to remind him. Like they were god damn married.

The man pulled his tie loose then swooped both off, tsking in disapproval as he hung them over his arm and faced Hayko. “You need to seriously take care of yourself, love,” he chided with a hint of warmth. “You have work, sure, but not eating?” 

He found it harder to stare at the floor with Nick looking directly at him now. “Wasn’t hungry,” he mumbled, frustrated with the nagging while he stood there covered in a litre of fucking blood. 

It seemed strange to him, even this far into this veil of a romantic relationship, that Nick insisted on playing concerned spouse and talking down to him in that voice thick with adoration. He hated it. But mostly, he hated how it tricked him every time, for a few moments, to believing that the concern was genuine. 

That if Nick wanted to, he wouldn’t just break him in two for a quick, sadistic fix. 

“What if I hire a chef, hm?” Hayko’s eyes travelled uneasily up to his, avoiding the body not out of embarrassment or modesty but the light bruising, the little scratches at his shoulders that indicated there had been a struggle. 

He swallowed down the image of his victim clawing from below so he wouldn’t accidentally imagine his own face to fill in the blank.

“A nice one, family friend even, so you don’t starve yourself cooped up in my bedroom all day with your papers.” 

“Your papers,” Hayko reminded him carefully. It was annoying when he couldn’t at least pretend to remember that he was his employer. But Nick just chuckled before handing him the shirt, tie draped over. His fingernails were black with blood. 

“Do me a favour?” 

The dried, metallic smell overwhelmed him and he swallowed as the scent lingered, reminding him of the uncharacteristically pleasant evening a few nights ago, how the stench had replaced the man’s sage cologne as he had looked over Hayko’s bare back. Looked over the cuts there and decided to open a few up again as he shivered and bit back whimpers. 

He closed his eyes a moment, reliving the painful buzz his mind had been in, too clouded by chanting of more, more, more to say anything coherent until Nick had finished and planted a kiss on his neck and woken him up. Memories like those and how close they happened to each other sometimes made Hayko forget the nature of how he even got here but if he was honest in the moment, that one evening had...almost made it count. 

Hayko gasped back to reality, snatching the shirt before Nick could snap at him. “Sure, yeah, I-I’ll throw it away.” 

“Don’t throw it away, silly,” Nick interrupted as he turned to his bathroom. “Clean it. I like that shirt a lot, you know, you’ve seen me wear it to lots of those end-of-the-month parties Don Miguel likes to organize for us.” 

Hayko seemed at a loss for just what to do with the bloodstained clothing in his hand when he noticed that it wasn’t just stained but bathed in life. The combination seemed heavier in his hand than any of his shirt’s ever had. He thought, with a stirring and morbid curiosity, just which of his fucked up methods Nick had used to squeeze the breath out of the-

“Did you hear me?” 

He should have been asleep, and then he wouldn’t have to deal with this tonight.

“Nick-... I don’t think-” He stammered and motioned to the red cluster. “There’s too much… I don’t think I can, um, actually clean it with the amount of blood.” Waiting in silence for a response, Hayko unfolded the shirt by the shoulders, as if he hadn’t already seen the wreck. “Plus, a lot of it is dried. How long ago did you?...”

Sighing, Nick stopped and tilted his head. “You know I’ve got a couple of those enzyme detergents in the left cabinet of the other washroom. Multiple, actually, so fill up the sink and leave it.” 

And with that, Nick nodded at him which was cue that it was time to stop asking questions.

When he stumbled through the living room, he noticed it was pitch black where Nick hadn’t even spared the bar lights to make his way to the bedroom. Only further proof that the man was a born predator, Hayko thought grimly. 

He searched blindly for the light and squinted upon flicking it on. Nick may not have convinced him with the criticism of his diet but Hayko was starting to pay attention to the poor lighting he usually worked under. 

The left cabinet revealed the detergents. Hayko took them out, one by one, and stacked them on the sink before opening the faucet. He took note to plug it before it filled up and shut the warm dial. The colder the better Nick had mentioned off-hand once on a night similar to this one, where Hayko had watched him scrubbing a shirt in the sink from the hallway, pretending the water wasn’t turning pink between his fingers.

He breathed once, the sharp smell of chemical piercing his nose, and sprinkled it in. The shirt went in next and then the tie and all he could do was stare at it, infatuated. He had watched a man come home from killing someone, taken his clothes, and stuck the evidence in heavy-duty detergent.

He was a fucking lawyer. 

He didn’t sign up for this. 

Where had the time gone for it to have gone this far, to be involved like this with a psychopath? Going from tied up in his god damn basement to playing boyfriend? 

Sure, it had been a stupid mistake on his part but it was a mistake, all he had wanted was to live, and one verbal contract later, now watched blood merge with water.

The blood stained dress shirt stared back up at him disapprovingly. It probably thought he deserved it, Hayko thought faintly and the sudden rush of nausea almost made him double over and wretch into the sink.

The clock ate the time with ticks, and all Hayko did was stare at the shirt in the sink. Until he heard a rustle from behind. The man had probably finished washing up and just in time, too. “You should’ve been asleep.” 

Nick was right, always right. 

Tagging: @doveotions @heathenville @thewhumpstuff @thatsthewhump @adamantem-rose @lonesome–hunter @whumpsorbet @whumpasaurus101 @lektricfergus @downrivergirl914 @burtlederp

Ask to be added/removed!

[sly-merlin]

Killing Me - 7 | n.y

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre :    angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au , smut

warnings of this chapter : cursing and mention of a knife.

words :: 6k

summary : “life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

  or              

                       “  curiousity got the cat hitched”

taglist :: (not tagging the old ones because they have read it already bt if u want , lemme know! )  @yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator @suhweo @exfolitae @minejungwoo 

@kafenetwork​ @neowritingsnet​

K.M masterlist

k.m 6     k.m 8

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

It was 10 a.m. Not too late! but if someone has a long check list for the day, waking up this late in the morning was obviously not an ideal option. Groaning, you removed the sheets to get ready for a busy Sunday. As much as you didn’t want to tread in that direction, there was only one way out of the room. Keys jingled as you opened the door from inside, mentally thanking Kun for providing you the separate keys for it’d have been impossible to get the little nap that you took after 3a.m.

You were surprised at how door didn’t creak at all when you opened it. Your brows drew together as your eyes darted east and west to find any sign of life but hopefully the door of the other room was closed. You sighed, dragging your feet towards the bathroom.

unconsciously bolting the door, you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Eye bags adorned your deep eyes, cheekbones seeming dull and a bit hollow and all of this has happened in just a week. No matter how comforting the bedding was, the panic had already seeped through your bones when you saw that knife in yuta’s hand. With broken resolve of staying away from them, your anxiety had forced to to call taeyong at midnight, hours after fighting with your thoughts.

���Y/n you need to calm down. I told you already there’s nothing to be afraid of!

“How am I supposed to calm down when he literally threatened me with a knife!” your voice came out in loud whisper.

“He’s just finding a way to control you. I know he might have sounded aggressive but he’s not-

“Aggressive? You are defending that asshole!.... but it shouldn’t be a surprise to me. After all he’s your own kind. I can’t put-

“No y/n. you said yourself he looked drunk! and when I’m telling you you are safe th-

“I don’t think there’s anything to believe. I won’t be surprised if this was just a ploy to kill me in some more satisfactory way.” and you had hung up the phone on him.

After the call, you had realised there were flaws in your accusations towards taeyong but you were not in the wrong here and caring for your own life never counts as overreacting!

Finishing the morning routines, you were about to enter your room to get ready for the day but your feet instinctively led you to the living room.

Knife was gone. But the mark it left was a reminder of the alarms that went off in your head hearing yuta’s words.

You shook your head, deciding to stick to your original plan. Live and leave!

your to do list was not lengthy but still time consuming and luckily you won’t return until eight or nine so maybe you won’t face him today.

Tutoring, returning the boxes and some groceries.

You were recalling everything you had to do as your privilege to delay things was already gone a week ago. Being a senior in the same uni, you were the best option for the juniors, who could teach them the tips and tricks of attempting subjective exams and it was filling your bank account so you were not going to complain about teaching on Sunday as well.

The stack of plastic boxes seemed to be teasing you. There was no Johnny or jaemin, so it’d take atleast two rounds to get those downstairs and moreover you had to spend extra money on the taxi as well.

You whined loudly. The load of glitches in your life was not ending at all.

And all for the courtesy of none other than nakamoto yuta.

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

“I’m back!?” yuta announced his presence in the house in his loud good morning voice. “What’s for breakfast?

“Your favourite!” jungwoo replied cheerfully, tying his shoelaces.

Yuta glanced around finding most of them busy with one task or another but one particular scene going about in the corner of the hallway caught his attention.

“you lost yours! this is mine!” ten was shouting at doyoung, the same so-done-with-everyone look on doyoung’s face and between their hands was a mask that was getting harassed by both of them.

“You haven’t been active since two months, so no chance that this is yours!”

“I just went with you few days ago-

“What the heck are you both jumpy for?” yuta interrupted their bickering. They both stopped instantly, taking in yuta’s appearance. with hair looking like a bird’s nest and clothes all crinkled like he was wearing his sleepwear which he was not!

“Hyung! he is not giving me the mask. Its mine. I can’t go out for mission without it!” doyoung whined pointing at the black face mask aka cover at yuta.

“Since when are you nursing such macho interests doyie?” yuta snickered at doyoung , ten joining as well.

Doyoung gave them a stern look before throwing the mask on ten’s face. “ I’m not going with you anymore” he grumbled before making his way upstairs but stopped midway, pointing towards yuta, “ and I’m telling yong you are here again!” and he ascended upstairs.

“Give him my cover ten.” yuta patted ten’s shoulder but before he could ask or say anything to him, yuta made a beeline for the kitchen.

There in the kitchen, chenle and Kun were already gossiping minus chenle’s screaming, so it was visibly something serious. They both stopped as soon as yuta neared them and he definitely noticed the transition in the mood.

“What you hiding lele?” he asked the boy, settling himself between him and Kun.

Chenle simply giggled in response, his face lighting up yuta’s mood.

“What’s for breakfast?” he curiously asked Kun.

“cereal.” Kun replied.

“What! But jungwoo said it’s my favourite!”

“Yeah. You can definitely have your favourite cereal!” Kun exclaimed, sharing a high touch with chenle who couldn’t stop giggling at yuta’s scrunched nose.

“Don’t you have a mission to attend?”

“Mission? Pfff. why are you calling it that? It’s just a regular deal and why do you smell like...” chenle pretended to sniff yuta before completing his verbal assault. “Like someone poured egg mixture on your head.” kuns eyed widened as he tried his best to control his laughter by pursing his lips.

Chenle let out a high pitched scream as yuta grabbed his neck from behind, chenle’s body squirming under the pressure.

“Don’t you want to live few more years!” yuta playfully warned him, leaving his neck. As soon as he was released, he ran out of the kitchen for his dear life.

“You ain’t being a good father Kun!” Kun shook his head at yuta’s remark and turned towards the coffee machine instead. Yuta on the other side trudged across him to find his cereal box.

“Did jaehyun called you?” Kun asked him.

“He would call me for what now?” yuta backfired pouring the milk into the bowl.

“Taeyong hyung had a message for you but he was a bit busy.”

“Busy my ass. His backyard is always stuck to that ten feet chair. Haven’t you noticed how flat he has become!” he said with mouthful of cereal making Kun chuckle and cough at the same time, the coffee tickling his throat.

“What’s so funny here?” taeyong arrived in the kitchen, his hand poorly covering his yawning.

At the very moment, Kun coughed harder, trying to divert taeyong’s attention. After few more seconds of pretending, he calmed down.

“Done?” yuta asked Kun, smiling at him. Kun frowned at him in response as taeyong watched the exchange amusingly.

Taeyong made his way towards the cabinets to get himself something to eat but yuta circled backwards, blocking him with his long legs, feet now placed at the lower cabinet.

Taeyong glared at him through his hooded eyes. “Go back to your home and let us live in peace!”

“This is my home and I have pledged to not let anyone live in peace, especially you.” yuta replied pointing his spoon at him.

“Not . anymore!” taeyong declared, emphasising each syllable.

“Why are going to the deal in pyjamas? Are you trying to impress someone there? Perhaps li-shan, Taiwanese weapon mogul. But I don’t think you can amaze her without showing your ugly face boss.” yuta jabbed at yong, wiggling his brow at him. But with each word leaving his mouth, he was annoying taeyong more than ever.

“Why not talk about you instead. Let’s explain kun what you did last night hmm!” taeyong brushed his palms together before folding them against his chest. Kun titled him head at his words. He was missing something probably.

“I don’t know what you are talking about yong.” yuta replied calmly but moved his legs to clear taeyong’s path, hoping he would slide away, taking his precious mouth with him.

taeyong that was facing yuta now rotated his body in kun’s direction, addressing him, “our dear yuta welcomed y/n into his life by slamming a knife into the coffee table, telling her to leave the fuck out of his life, all while being under influence of alcohol, which we all know was nothing but a façade.” the composed manner with which taeyong spoke was enough for yuta to break down his frisky mannerisms. He didn’t think you would rant him out to taeyong.

“So she is a whiny baby like our doyoung!”

“This is not what I mean and you know that!” taeyong’s voice rose, staring yuta down with his hands tucked in his pyjama pockets.

“It was a mistake”, yuta tried to explain, threading a hand through his hair, “I was drunk.” he completed quietly.

“Then how did u drive home? Were you drunk and driving?”

“I told you alre-

“Cut it yuta! I’m done hearing your stupid excuses for impulsive actions. Because of you she doubted me! Fucking me! Am I seriously a man of my words or was this all some stupid drama. She thinks I’ve hired you to slaughter her in her sleep! What the fuck, don’t you laugh at me now!” out of nowhere, yuta has started laughing and nobody knew what was so funny to him in the whole conversation.

“I seriously don’t remember anything except the knife part but now I feel like she might have peed her pants yesterday!”

“Bring her here tomorrow and you’ll apologise in front of me!”

Suddenly yuta’s face fell at his order. “No way in hell I’m doing that. And she’s never sitting in my car. ever.” he emphasised, leaving the stool to put dishes in sink.

“Oh wow. Ohkk. Then you are bringing her to the district office tomorrow. For registration. At sharp 9a.m and i don’t need any lame stupid excuses. And she’s sitting in the passenger seat of your car. Or you are apologising to her in front of everyone. A or b. you choose now!” taeyong stated with a flash of authority in his voice. They both eyed each other down as Kun whirled around to leave the negativity. He was done and that too for good.

“I’m going to shower.” yuta announced, rounding the counters to follow Kun but stopped once he reached the door.

“I don’t know what has come over you but I’ve never seen this much hatred in your eyes ever. not for anyone we know. never expected it from you yongie. why it has to be me hmm!”

taeyong’s anger reduced to one of puzzlement as he took in yuta’s word. He raised his hand to stop him but he was gone. Sitting on the stool and resting his head in between his hands, he could sense yuta’s hostility for him. Yuta has always been messing up with his head. That was nothing new. But when did his gamesome disputes got twisted into antagonism, taeyong was unable to find an answer for that. His intentions might not have been bonafide but they were truly far away from the malice yuta was accusing him of. He didn’t hate him. Never had. And never will. But now was not the time to repair their cuts. Because yuta won’t allow him to even try.

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

16:00

“Do you think of all the topics, Mrs. Kang is going to choose double jeopardy?” your junior or student at the moment, asked you in confusion, flipping through the pages of his constitution reference book.

“Yes she would. Definitely. And subjective on that. How many times do I have to repeat! There are just 73 pages of Article 13 on this book. Just pick and choose the precedents and landmark cases and you are done.” you concluded.

Just when you were about to taste your now cold chocolate latte, another one chirped up.

“Can’t we skip some of the civil rights? She gave us an assignment of ex post facto laws instead and we don’t think she’d question us on the topic she didn’t even taught in the first place!”

You suddenly chuckled, resting the cup on the small table. “That’s nothing new actually. For all I know, she has been doing this since she joined fifteen years ago. Topics differ but same pattern follows. She gives an assignment a month before exams, adds the grades as extra credit, imprinting a false presumption through her actions that she’d go in hell if she ever questions from that topic in exams. Everyone is happy that they can skip at least one topic without worrying about it and then boom!!!.She puts that very topic in subjective part. Voila! and everyone’s scores drop.” you sighed looking dramatically at the opposite wall. “But not actually everyone is that naïve so people like me and you actually do the chore of consulting our seniors. And this chain is as old as her career. So do you want to take the risk of doubting me?” you completed looking down at them with furrowed brows.

If words could kill, it’d have been the ones you just threw mercilessly at the young ones right now! They looked like seconds away from passing out. Your own face dropped at their helplessness so instinctively, you assured them.

“Hey! No pressure. You have one of the best guide here so I’ll make sure you ace the civil law!”

Their stiff shoulders relaxed for once in last 3 hours. Another forty five minutes and you would be leaving this small study room. The occasional yawns were not going away by coffee either. You were tired as hell but still had plenty to do. The visit to supermarket was still pending and you were not going to waste your precious money on taxi. Not again. You’d rather travel for an hour by bus to reach your new residence.

You were consumed in your own restless thoughts when the ringing of your phone woke you up.

Yugeom.

“Oye y/n, we are going to itaewon. A new restaurant has opened. At eight. Get ready and I’ll pick you up from dorms.”

no hello. No formalities. He commanded you like you were his junior soldier in a war waiting for his directions to act.

“Slow your roll! I’m busy. I can’t join you today.”

“What are you doing at this hour? Your tuitions ended an hour ago.”

“No. I missed previous sessions so I’m making up for It.” you heard a long sign from other side.

“Ok. So you are only fifteen minutes away from dorms! You can make it. If you say we’ll delay for an hour. How about now?” you cringed at his antics but you had no other option than to burst his hope.

“I’m busy after that. I’ve some grocery shopping to do. I moved out so I’m busy setting everything up.” you deliberately mumbled the last part.

“What the! You moved out. When and why” the happiness in his voice suddenly turned into one of annoyance, “Why is everybody hiding stuff from me these days? Jungkook is busy every other day doing don’t know what! And now you! You changed address and probably I’m the last person to be knowing this!” he huffed at the end.

“I don’t know about kooky but I just took the decision in emergency. And I promise I’ll treat you to bulgogi next time.” your peace offering to him was his favourite food so you knew you were in safer zone. that was the only way you knew. food.

“yeah yeah whatever. Its not like I expect you both to visit my grave or anything. just don’t miss yeong’s birthday. she would chop off your hair.”

“Yeah sure. Now bye. I’m busy.” you hung up with a smile plastered on your face, your students already waiting for you with knitted eyes.

“Oh sorry. What is it?” you apologised for distraction and moved your chair further to take a look at the book.

“Umm what should be the beginning sentence? I promise I’ll get through this, just give me a kick start.”

“Me too! I don’t want any less than an A.”

You rolled your eyes at their competitiveness and their dedication to cling to you for head starters. Last time, you told yourself that you won’t help them with papers next time. But their puppy faces got through you resolves. Every time.

“Doyeon, you can start with the maxim “autrefois convict” and how it is applied in other countries, indirectly giving a comparison with our system. And you!” you continued, concentrating on mingi. “You would give beginning of civil law and how it was admitted in Korea and then explain the article 13 while giving subtle hints about how our system is a bit shitty at this but don’t forget to sugar-coat or Mrs. Kang will make sure your stupid ass never completes law. afterall…Her husband is a judge in the high court !” you advised rather sarcastically, glancing back and forth between them in silence. As they understood the reference, a burst of loud hearty laughter covered the small room before all of you returned to your studies.

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

9:30 p.m.

Your sneakers squeaked as you dragged your tired body out of the elevator. The apartment ,besides being just few steps away seemed miles away for now. By the strength you were holding and pulling the jute bag up from the floor, you were sure the red marks would be visible by now. Odds were never in your favour these days, but still to save yourself from the wrath of the monster, you had decided to take a longer route instead. Travelling, dinner, shopping, you had turned these everyday jobs into a mission to avoid yuta. But you had forgot about the discomfort that’d be caused by these extra efforts.

So now here you were, wishing the door itself would come and welcome you!

As soon as the door came into sight, you dropped the bag just when your body slumped against it. You groaned again realising chelin is not there to drag your almost dead body inside, so you picked the bag again. 2610 and the entrance was in vision.

As if some sort of warning, three pairs of shoes welcomed you. You took a deep, harsh breath before entering the hallway mutely. You walked straight for the kitchen but were not unnoticed by the two male figures sitting on the couch. Their heads turned like owls when you placed groceries on the counter. yuta and mark. You peeked through your hooded eyes to notice that they were playing some sort of game on the t.v and it wasn’t hard to read that the sour look on their faces was due to your presence in the vicinity.

So you did what you initially intended to! Leaving the bag on the counter, you left for your room but apparently everything has a limit excluding your bad luck.

You turned around ,muffled exhausted moan leaving your pursed lips only to find that the filled jute bag was now halfway empty, little red balls rolling and rolling towards the couches and the little marathon of apples stopped only at mark’s feet. You stood there like a deer caught in headlights until your admirer spoke out.

“That’s not how you feed your guests Mrs. y/n and especially not your husband.” the third man, jaehyun, who was hidden behind yuta till now, voiced his very genuine concern for your manners.

You initially rolled your eyes at his comment, deciding to avoid him as much as possible and removed your backpack to pick up the fruits and candies. But while you were picking up the stuff, a very annoying laughter erupted from the opposite side, definitely from jaehyun so you decided to address him directly.

“Hate to burst your bubble jaehyun, but uninvited guests seldom meets a welcome. so the problem here is maybe not me!” you  gave him a tight lipped smile and started with your scattered groceries again, placing them one by one in the bag again, the jute now balanced nicely to contain them.

“Well I’ve have an official invitation to be a guest here. Anytime I want. So isn’t it your duty to be a good host!” his snarked.

“Oh then someone who can adopt you, can feed you as well! And I’m sure you are in good hands jaehyun ” you only heard a snicker and someone’s shushing voice as the oranges in your hand started to roll out again. You were already frustrated enough to handle jaehyun and now the oranges were not cooperating either.

You started collecting them again when a pair of legs shadowed you.

“Wait I’ll do it!” mark said sheepishly, his hands already holding the other apples.

“It’s ok”

“You are wobbling. Lemma help.” mark gestured towards the fruits ,  fixing his glasses with his knuckles.

“Thanks” you merely mumbled as he filled and picked the bag only to place it in the corner of the further counter, secured properly.

After he was done, you thanked him again before picking your bag to leave for room.

“y/n don’t play the ‘lets catch criminals’ game in your sleep, who knows you might not wake up from the trauma of the consequences.” he shouted at you, chuckling along the way.

You were sure if frustration and idiocy had a face, jaehyun surely matched them perfectly.

“登録事務所。明日。 9時に”

Your mouth hung open as you stopped with the hand on the knob, trying to decipher what he said but obviously it was of no use. You didn’t know any Japanese so you just shut the door behind.

Loud laughs and yelling disturbed your sleep and that continued till 11p.m and after multiple trips to bathroom, you were able to rest a bit.

And one more thing you noticed during your frequent visits, yuta had officially moved in as your roommate.

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

Turning off the alarm, you hid your face further into the summer sheets. The night was a bit peaceful as compared to the ones you have been experiencing lately but in no way blissful. You missed your small single dorm bed, your comrade in the battles of stress. The rooster alarm had woke you up at 6 but for every student, the desire to be in the embrace of bed swells on the day called Monday. Reluctantly, you rubbed your eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. But as you beheld the sight with squinted eyes, a smile crept on your face, your legs taking you towards the balcony. As you opened the sliding door, the warm of the morning sun welcomed you, making you close your eyes at the feeling.

After staying there for a few moments, you decided to get ready as the university was now actually too far away for anyone’s liking and you were supposed to attend the lecture of Intellectual property law at 9 a.m sharp

Collecting the clothes for the day, you pushed yourself for the bathroom. As you opened the top cabinet, there was everything but what you stacked a day ago.

There was a toothbrush, but clearly not yours. There were cleansers and toners, but again, not yours! Even your sanitary products were gone!

Yesterday night, the new hand wash that also didn’t belong to you had indicated that yuta has settled down but it was only now that you noticed, he had thrown out yours to accommodate his own stuff! You pulled your hair in frustration at his thought. He was a jerk, for sure, but of very senior kind. If hundred jerks were grinded in a mixer, only then one yuta could come into existence again.

Looking around ,your eyes fell on the cabinets below the sink, a bit inwards, that were probably used to put cleaners or something. But as you opened them , a squeal left your lips. There were no toilet cleaners but still your essentials were haphazardly thrown over each other. At least these weren’t thrown outside!

Huffing and puffing, you properly assembled them, ready to get through the day. Your main focus was not to trip yourself into another blunder but that yuta was scheming against you even in your absence. Not that you could do anything, but if there was a slightest probability, you’d slice his bitter tongue at first attempt. But no violence, even in thoughts. For now.

Somehow, the running water had managed to wash your cold head and you happily got ready for university in black long sleeved top and washed jeans. There was no need for scarf and yeong won’t be seeing you due to her paper presentation, so the fashion exercise was also cancelled. Putting your hair in a low ponytail, you grabbed your heavy backpack and went out to get some breakfast. The thought of cornflakes topped with apples was watering your mouth. So you ran out of the room, throwing bag on the couch, then made your way to food paradise.

Thanks to Kun or Johnny, the kitchen was already well equipped with the utensils and cutlery but still it was hard to navigate to find a small bowl for cereal. Once the hunt for glass bowl ended, you gasped!

In your hurry to dodge the them yesterday, you had totally forgotten to refrigerate the milk and there was no doubt the milk was spoiled by now.you sighed digging through the bag for your milk cartons but wow! there was cereal, apples, which needed to be stored as well, the chocolates, but no milk. you were sure that you indeed paid for the two milk cartons but no nothing, nada!. biting your nails, you eyed the fridge. Could it be!

Yes, it was. The cartons were stored in the fridge fresh and packed. You would thank that mark boy someday, if he remain cordial with you! of course.

The milk was too cold for your preference, but everything’s better than starving! The watch on your wrist read 7:40, you were on time like always. You stored the milk back and washed the dishes. Last thing you wanted to hear was that man taunting you for not keeping the space clean. Tossing two apples into the bag, you marched for the door.

“Where are you going?” rotating in your steps, you noticed yuta standing by the counter, shirtless, wearing only jeans, drying his hair with a towel and his orbs staring into yours in a showdown.

“A student with a backpack at 8a.m! I won’t be going to a fight club right!” you replied impulsively but immediately regretted opening your mouth, noticing his warning gaze. You again turned to continue but he paused you again.

“You are breaking the deal here then! Taeyong hates deceivers and results of his rage are not very pleasant either. Not that I would mind anything here”

Your face twisted as to why would taeyong would feel being defrauded at your uni trip! He himself told you to continue study.

As you dictated your same thoughts to yuta, you were met with a questionable look.

“I’m talking about district office. The place where we are going to register this peaceful treaty. Today. At 9 a.m.” he air quoted peaceful as you took in his words. He could be lying right! As if he heard your thoughts, he clarified with a smirk garnishing his lips, “It’s not an assassination attempt. You won’t be walking right now if I wanted to kill you so much.”

You gulped at his words but regained composure moment later, “but taeyong didn’t inform me about this and I’m late for my lecture. I can’t miss it without informing my teacher. So go alone.”

“I would love to sweety! But I had informed you yesterday and they need both of us, unfortunately.” he was still crushing his blonde hair with the towel.

“We didn’t even talk yesterday!”

“You didn’t. I did. I told you right when you were outside your room so don’t lie. If you want to go, wait here. Or else take the bus. I don’t mind.” he concluded, walking away. And you thought he was shit-talking in Japanese.

“I don’t understand Japanese. So talk to me in Korean or English next time.” you shouted at his back, frowning in annoyance.

“DON’T YOU STUDY LAW OR SOMETHING?”

You groaned loudly at his illiterate comment. “Japanese isn’t a law subject you moron!” you mumble to yourself, fishing out your phone to shoot taeyong a text.

You: district office meeting is today?”

Waiting, you moved to the couches. His response came immediately.

Taeyong b.n: hmm. Johnny and doyoung would be there so jaehyun won’t be a trouble to you. If yuta does anything, do tell me. Bye.

You threw your head at the back, moaning in an ugly tone. The idea of travelling with yuta was daunting and nerve wrecking. And jaehyun was just cherry on top. Single minute in his presence made you felt like an intruder. So much for new family. Then there was Johnny who could be counted as totally normal if placed in same balancing scales as these foolish brains and Kun had same vibes as jungkook, positive and put together. And from jungkook, your mind floated to chelin. You had decided to let her choose some skirts for you as it would make her happ-

You craned your neck at the sound of utensils. Yuta, now properly dressed ,was making food for himself. And he was wearing black shirt and washed jeans. Same as you. How insufferable. You were going to be looking like his little sister or something!

“Hurry up!” you exclaimed. “I have a lecture. I want to attend the half of it at least.” crossing your arms, you tried to focus on the t.v instead. Your previous happy mood was nowhere to be found in the reflection that faced you!

“We aren’t going on a bicycle. And we are going to a govt. office. Forget about the lecture, you’ll die of standing in the queues anyway.” he scoffed at you, taking a bite of the bread.

Cabinet open. Cabinet shut.

Refrigerator open. Shut.

Another thud. Maybe of glass bowl. By the sound of it, the bowl he was using won’t last for too many days.

A few moments of silence.

at this point, you could hear your own heartbeat, but still you were on edge. Your legs were restlessly shaking, fingers crossed, and thumbs fighting for dominance. Then suddenly, you face contorted at a certain sound.

Slurping. And it continued to breach the silence for few more moments. A louder thud.

“Are you sleeping or what? It’s not like I’m dying to drive you!”  The repulsion in his voice was clear.

Not choosing to answer, you picked the bag, walking outside, stopping only at the shoe rack.

“Oops. Wait. I think I forgot my sweetheart inside!” he announced before going back.

A small seat was attached with the shoe rack. You were tying your shoelaces when yuta sat beside you, picking up his own shoes. You gave a side glance to his shoes, the sight making your eyes round with surprise. A knife was clearly visible through his white sock. and maybe one of many. You jerked your head to focus on your own shoes. You got up before he did, smoothing the sleeves of your top.

What you missed were yuta’s eyes. On you. More specifically, on the ring, decorating your forefinger. His hooded eyes travelled upwards from finger to your waist, he gulped at the sight of your chest which was slightly pushed out due to straps of the bag but he halted right there, opting not to look further. He suddenly wanted to look anywhere but you. He peeked again but was glad that you were busy with your ponytail, instead of giving him any attention. He abruptly got up, cleaning his hands with the sanitizer he had kept yesterday right there.

While walking away, he looked behind, “wait outside the building.” he said like he was reading a morning newspaper, in stoic and emotionless voice. Opening the door, he stilled again, “and wear the ring in the third finger. Got to make them believe!” and he was gone.

You looked at the platinum which was shimmering due to the light. You closed your hand tightly after changing it.

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

The entire car ride was silent. Not comfortable one but the kind that could make one nauseous. As the district office was approaching, the discomfort intensified. your gnashed you teeth in an attempt to control your movements, moved the zipper of the bag up and down , sideways but your heart beating sped up like never before as yuta parked the car.

You jumped out as soon as he opened the door, craving for fresh air. Taking deep breaths, you gave light pats on your churning stomach. Once feeling a little better, you circled the car to reach where yuta was standing. He didn’t say anything but you followed him mindlessly.

“Morning y/n. how are you?” you peered at Johnny, who was smiling at you, expecting a response. You merely nodded at him, hugging your arms,.

“Hurry up. Its almost 9. I don’t have much time.” jaehyun said, not even acknowledging your presence.

“How much time do we have to wait for our turn?” you asked Johnny, now fumbling with the bag straps like a nervous school kid.

“Not even a sec!! jae got it here. Just witness signatures have to be done and then they’ll make you sign on a register.”

Reminder to not believe a fuck yuta says!

“Give me your bag. It won’t look very smart,” you handed over your bag to Johnny as everyone else was already miles away.

It was not even a room, if you could say. It was just a cabin with a small sign marriage registration written on it. There were plenty of people waiting but somehow you were the first or at least it looked like it.

“Please sit.” the lady offered politely, pointing towards the two chair opposite hers. You and yuta took seats as jaehyun opened the papers for her. She went through all the three pages in painfully slow speed, intermittently glancing at you both through her round glasses.

You were focused on her as she matched the details of birth certificates with papers when Johnny nudged you. He was trying to say something ,by actually not saying anything.

A smile. Then he looked at yuta. And he kept repeating it until you understood.

Smile. Yuta. Smile yuta. Smile yuta???

Ohh smile at yuta!!

You nodded profusely before turning towards yuta who was receiving the same instructions from doyoung but was too oblivious to catch anything. You waited for him to pick up and when he faced you, found you already doing the same. He plastered a smile on his face, you mirroring him instantaneously. And that was when you noticed, the twinkle in his eyes, howsoever fake, but still a beautiful sight. Your curved lips almost dropped at this. His eyes didn’t left your face as he scanned it completely. You, for a fact knew, your smile didn’t reach your eyes. You were just unable to do that. And nobody has ever questioned it but yuta’s eyes! , his eyes were teasing you. That he was better at this game. And that you were lacking something when compared to him!

“You kids are so fine!” you broke your eye contact at her voice, thanking her internally. “Most couples these days just come here, being all over each other and blah blah but the ones who try to find the shine in other’s eyes are like rare diamonds. Keep looking at each other and you’ll both find your paradise someday.” she clasped her hands together, tilting her head slightly to look at your figures. Her smile seemed …hopeful! How could she not realise that you both were faking being happy!

“You can sign here!” she exclaimed. You both signed at mentioned space. Afterwards Johnny and doyoung also signed as immediate witnesses.

“Collect the certificate in two days.” she said, an indication for you that you were over with another drama. You bowed to her before leaving, not forgetting to briefly smile at her.

Were you both that believable? Maybe faking being intimate wasn’t that of a trouble! Or maybe it was because you were both good at the art of pretence!

“Your bag y/n.” you took it from Johnny, putting it on your shoulders immediately. Taking out your hair tucked in the back side of the bag, you nodded at Johnny as goodbye, making your way outside.

“Hey wait!”

You stopped at his voice.

“Taeyong gave a message. The reception is on Friday evening. And lemma drop you. I’m not going with them.” you didn’t even know how to react at his words as you shook your head in refusal, your tummy giving you active signs of running away.

“No. I’m fine. Bye. take care.” you concluded, sprinting outside for a wave of fresh air, leaving Johnny behind, dumbfolded.

“Quite a runner!” jaehyun laughed as he and others joined Johnny.

“Yeah. She was shouting about some lecture at 9 a.m. maybe if she runs like bolt, there’s a chance to attend it!” yuta spoke. jaehyun laughed as if what yuta said was actually really funny.

“No. she is just hurt and upset.” Johnny explained, following you but immediately stopped at yuta’s words.

“shield cant be a sword johnny. Shield can never be a sword!”

***************************************************\

“登録事務所。明日。 9時に”  = registration office. tomorrow. 9 o’clock.

[seokiloquy]

Coffee Diet - Kozume Kenma

AU: Tokyo Ghoul 

Requested

Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader, Gore, some angst (Though both aren’t too heavy or graphic I think), probably a poor representation of the manga/anime cause I haven’t actually read/watched it all the way through despite wanting to

Word Count: 3.3k+

Kozume grunted. His kagune, the source of his inhuman power, made strikes at his cannibal attacker, forming a bone-like needle that stabbed down at the unknown ghoul. The concrete shattered like thick glass upon impact as the ghoul continued to dodge. 

Tokyo (especially its many outskirt neighbourhoods) had a ghoul problem. 

“You’re in the wrong territory if you think you can get away with that.”

The other ghoul only laughed, continuing his fast steps. The laugh itself was painful, scratchy and high pitched. It made Kozume wince.

The people of Kozume’s neighbourhood knew of the danger that lay waiting outside their doors, and thus an unspoken rule had been made among them. Don’t be outside past sunset. Those that did take a nightly venture typically were found mangled and half-eaten by morning. Broken bones peaking through bloodstained flesh, large bites taken out of their thighs, and torsos ripped open; delectable looking meal for a ghoul gone rouge. Kenma wouldn’t agree.

The dark alley that the ghoul had run into was walled off.

His opponent's black greasy hair hung over most of his face like a curtain, only letting a single black and red eye, and a sharp-toothed smirk poke through the strands. His hair swayed as he spun around.

“What does territory matter if there’s food to be had?” The ghoul screeched before his powered ghoul organ seeped out of his body and shot toward Kozume. It scratched his cheekbone, barely missing his eye, thankfully, but would take time to heal unlike any normal would.

Kozume hissed at the cut, willing his own kagune to slash at the ghoul who began climbing up the sides of the brick walls. The sharpened bone just missed the man’s food as he scurried over the ledge.

“See you later!”

The false blond stood there, yawning and rubbing his black and red eyes that were pinned to the building’s top. Heat from the rising sun began to warm his back. With the new light and extra heat, the tired ghoul raised his arms, stretching, as he took in his familiar surroundings. The port, or at least near it. Kozume stepped out of the alley to see the broken concrete that was left in his chase.

Another yawn escaped him before he tucked his hand in his red sweater’s pockets and walked the other way. He needed coffee.

Kuroo’s shop, as lovely of an atmosphere as it created, was in the middle of a garbage dump. It didn’t help that some of that outside aesthetic carried into the cafe itself. The bell pierced into Kozume’s ear canal as he opened the front door to the dingy sight. Stained counters, chipped porcelain, yellow lights that were so off-putting that they stayed off all the time. It’s always been dark and gloomy, until today.

“Welcome! Take a seat, I’ll be right with you.”

That’s new.

Kozume stood in the doorway, watching your form dance and sway behind the bar. He noticed the music playing, soft and completely unnatural for the cafe. Your uniform, definitely not assigned by Kuroo, was crisp and clean, black shirt sitting on your form nicely. It was modest and professional. Maybe not assigned, but definitely Kuroo’s style.

He watched as you placed a small cake at another regular’s table, patting the old man’s signature plaid jacket on the shoulder. Whatever you said made the man laugh and twirl his fork happily.

His golden eyes, now settled after his too-early walk from the destroyed park, were trained on you as he sidestepped over to his usual seat in the corner next to the window. He sat, and took his eyes off your bobbing head as you turned around. His brow furrowed. The table was clean. Kozume looked around the cafe, noticing the lack of dust and stains.

He didn’t see you drop off a cup of coffee at a table, or walk his way until you were right in front of him.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

He jumped in his seat, causing his bobbed hair to billow out for a moment. Oh no, the look in your eyes immediately told him that you could see his rosy cheeks. He coughed. “Black coffee, please.”

Your smile was perfect.

“Hey, Kenma!” An unlikely saviour with black spikey hair appeared from the doorway. Kuroo strode over and waved you down as he slid into the seat across from Kozume. “Ah you got a scratch,” he hissed, immediately putting pieces together in his head. His head turned your way. “Do you mind getting me a coffee too, (L/N)?”

Kozume’s eyes followed you as you placed your pen and notepad back into your pocket and walked toward the counter.

“(L/N)’s new, just started yesterday and all the regulars love the new energy already. So tell me, what happened?”

Kozume sighed, looking down at his hands. “More keep coming. One disappears and another shows up. I’m too tired for this.”

Despite his vague tone, Kuroo knew what Kozume was talking about and sighed immediately. He leaned back in his chair. “I’ll be able to help you out soon enough, (L/N) has gotten a good hand on things, but I don’t want to leave them alone in the shop too suddenly. You understand.”

Kozume did understand. You, the human behind the counter, were a breath of fresh air in the musty town. You didn’t know, you couldn’t have. The demeanour of someone in the know in this neighbourhood wasn’t that positive. He knew that he wouldn’t get any help until you knew of the cafe’s main purpose.

“Take your time, I can handle it for how.” Kozume yawned and gestured to his marred cheek. “This guy might be a pain to deal with though.”

Just as he finished speaking the TV that hung above his head began to rattle on about destruction occurring at their neighbourhood’s port.

Kuroo winced. “That’s a pain, all right.”

Two white cups of black coffee hit the table's surface. Kuroo thanked you as you stood straight and reached into your apron’s pocket. Next to Kozume’s mug, you placed a large band-aid as you ripped open a disinfectant wipe. “May I?” 

He nodded and let your fingers gently turn his chin in your direction. The wipe glided smoothly over his cheek but stung. He hissed and pulled his head back.

“Sorry, it’ll be over in a second, I’ll be quick. Can I finish?”

Kuroo stayed silent as he watched Kozume get cared for by his employee, only speaking when the barista left the younger ghoul’s side with a kind smile. “You’re blushing.”

“I will kick your ass,” Kozume sneered before lifting his mug up to his lips for a quick sip. “Why’d you hire a human anyway?”

Kuroo mirrored his friend’s actions and drank some of his well-brewed coffee. “They don’t hold any ill will toward Ghouls if that’s what you’re wondering, maybe a bit scared. But (L/N) is very kind.”

Kosume continued to yawn through their conversation, occasionally looking your way, only to immediately turn his head as soon as there was a chance of you catching his stare. He didn’t realize how long it went on until he heard your footsteps heading for the exit.

Kuroo twisted, resting his arm over the back of the chair to face you putting on your coat. “Walk home safe!”

“Will do!” Your smile glittered before you pushed the door open and walked through.

Kozume’s eyes continued to follow you through the glass until you turned out of sight. 

“Do they live far from here?” he asked Kuroo, questioning his warning.

Kuroo slapped his hand on the table twice, gathering the energy to rise to his feet. He grabbed the long since empty mugs, whose stray coffee had begun to dry on the sides. “Only a 5-minute walk. But (L/N) has to walk through alleyways to save time, and well, even during the day, you can’t be too concerned for one’s safety.”

“Ah, Kozume! Black coffee again? Would you like some food with that?”

Kozume’s stomach churned at the thought of putting something other than coffee into his system. “I’m alright, just the coffee is fine. Thanks.” Hands stuffed in his pockets, he walked to his corner. “And Kenma is fine.”

“Then, please, call me (Y/N).”

The cafe smelled cleaner than the weeks prior. Cleaning solution seems to sit right under Kozume’s nose and punch him every time he breathed. Taking his seat, he immediately noticed the lack of smudges on the window.

Kozume tried to give you a kind smile as you set his cup of coffee on the freshly cleaned table. He could feel heat crawl up his neck and settle underneath the skin of his cheeks. He gulped, readying himself to separate his lips and speak.

“You seem drained, has work been alright?” You beat him to the punch.

“Ah ya, work.” He didn’t have a job. “It’s been alright, just a bit draining because of the night shift. How has school been?”

Kuroo was quick to get you both well acquainted after your first meeting. He carried conversations until Kozume was willing enough to speak for himself. The blond was thankful for that, knowing that if he had been left alone by your side no familiarity would have been built.

“Oh, the usual. I have a few assignments to finish but nothing too overbearing. I did read an interesting article about social relations and hierarchy of ghouls in society. It was a bit depressing but educational.”

Kozume choked on his coffee, hunching over the table as he lifted a fist to his mouth. Just as the ragged coughs began to subside he felt your hand gently rub his back, sending him into another fit of coughs.

“What’s the assignment about?” he asked, settling down.

He noticed the concerned look on your face as you pulled napkins out of your pocket and set them on the table. “Ah well, I’m studying public health and humanities, and my prof told us to choose a disadvantaged group to write about. Yada yada, so on so forth. I chose ghouls.”

He gestured for you to sit with one hand, waving at Kuroo with the other as he wiped down the main counter. You smiled and took the seat across from him.

“You believe ghouls are disadvantaged?”

Your brow furrowed, pondering. “Well ya, in some ways. Maybe not in strength and power, but ghouls are rather hated in society don’t you think?”

Once again, while preparing to speak, he was cut off by the overhead TV switching audio. Listening to the graphic words coming out of the reporter's mouth, Kozume sighed and raised a hand to push against his temple.

The distressed look on your face made him pause. A pit grew in his stomach as your concerned face turned to Kuroo, who was calling you back to your station. You were quick to bring back your smile. “Enjoy the coffee, and rest when you can.”

Kozume returned your smile meekly but was focused on the grotesque details the reporter listed, unable to stop himself from imagining you, defenceless, in that sort of danger. He couldn’t stomach the coffee.

“(Y/N), I really don’t think I should leave you here alone after dark.”

You sighed, looking to your boss with an unimpressed smirk. Kuroo squinted, lips pursing as he watched your knowing smirk turn humorous. 

“Testu, don’t you have work to do at night? My walk home may be a lot safer, if you get to that, no?”

Kuroo cursed, punching the wooden counter with a dull bumping sound. He groaned. “How did you know?”

You laughed, shifting the position of your hands on the wooden poll and continuing to sweep the floor of the empty cafe. “I study! It may not be so obvious but don’t you think I’d pick up on you being a ghoul after a few weeks?”

“I mean maybe, but I was hoping you didn’t know!”

A light scoff shot off your tongue and through your teeth. “I would think you’d be relieved, now you don’t have to be so cautious around me.”

Kuroo picked up the washcloth he had been holding earlier off the counter and began to wipe the wooden surface down again. “No harm in caution. Even if you do know.”

“Ya, ya, just don’t show me a severed limb. I can’t do gore.”

Kuroo laughed and tossed the damp towel onto the edge of the metal sink. His arms shifted to his back to aunty the black apron around his waist. “Are you sure you’re okay here alone?”

The TV’s sound changed to the news’ intro tune as you grabbed the remote and turned it off. You gave the ghoul a warm smile. “I can handle it. Go go.”

The sun was already over the horizon by the time you were ready to leave. You stood on the inside of the door, punching in the pin code to the security lock. It beeped, giving you the warning to leave and lock the door. Once done, you pulled your sweater a little tighter on your shoulders and shoved your hands in the pockets.

You focused on the sound of your rubber souls stepping on the concrete and the occasional tick of a pebble getting kicked. Street lights flickered, or at least the ones that were working did. Walking upon a burnt out light, you took the marker to turn down the neighbouring alleyway.

Two steps in was all it took before you lifted the collar of your weather over your nose. The putrid smell wafted your way from the dumpster. “Ugh, it’s not garbage day tomorrow is it?” Setting closer towards the opposite wall, you help your breath and face forward. Until the burnt-out light flickered on.

You halted, head frozen forward as you looked out of the corner of your eye. Immediately your stomach churned and your throat began to pulse uncomfortably. 

First, you noticed the pool of dark red blood that was slowly growing, nearing your shoes. Then it was pieces of loose skin and grey hair, stained as they floated in their puddle. Your heart seized at the sight of a ragged plaid jacket that was recklessly torn. You searched higher.

A single red iris surrounded by a black gloss stared at your profile. The rest was obscured by pin-straight greasy hair except for a large, inhuman smirk that showed off shark-like teeth covered in blood.

You cautiously removed your hands from your pockets, watching the poorly dressed skeletal like figure’s hunch move up and down as he breathed.

One beat.

You saw his claw-like fingers hold the wrinkly hand of the severed arm like a possessed lover. Your foot shifted.

Two beats.

The ghoul’s head tilted, revealing a tube-like pound of pink flesh hanging from his fangs. You gulped.

Three beats.

You ran.

Pulse already off the hertz, you sprinted with all your might to the flickering light at the other end of the alley. A stupid move, but taking the time to turn around wasn’t an option. Each step sent a jolt into your stomach. Your footsteps were much louder than before, but your blood was drowning it out. The lamp was so much slower now.

You froze suddenly. Stopped by a tug on your arm. Vertigo suddenly hit and the lamp was pulled further away. Then you recalled the tug, and noticed the increased pulsing in your arm, then felt your sweater become sticky and heavy. You looked to the side and down.

Were bones supposed to stick out like that?

You hardly registered it’s presence before the spike-like bone was torn from your limb, sending you into another fit of screams.

The light at the end of the alley flickered again, before going completely dark. 

His heart raced, blood pumping through his ears like crazy.

“Calm down Kenma! You can’t go crazy like this!”

“I have every right! You heard that scream, didn’t you? It was (Y/N)!”

The blonde’s kagune went wild, thrashing about and nearly knocking Kuroo over in the process. Said ghoul didn’t flinch, only brushing away the agitated organ with a push of his own.

“I know, but you have to—”

He was off, launching into the air and onto the rooftops, following the smell of your spilt blood before Kuroo could finish his sentence. The black-haired man swore, quickly following suit.

The sight was expected, horrifying, but not surprising.

Whoever’s intestines were falling out of the ghoul’s mouth, Kozume couldn’t tell, but he wasn’t gonna let the ghoul he had been hunting get another chance to make a meal out of your body if he could help it.

“GET OFF!”

Something cracked as the long-haired ghoul’s body flew off yours, smashing against the brick wall of the alley. Kozumes sharp-pointed kagune pinned him through the stomach to the cracking brick. 

He only gave you a glance. The sight made his stomach churn as if he were trying to eat a regular meal. Torn skin, visible bone, and blood everywhere. He wanted to vomit.

Behind him he could hear Kuroo’s feet land in the massive pool of blood, making it splash slightly. Their clothes would have to be trashed later.

Kozume gritted his teeth. Despite his boiling rage at you being injured, he managed to hold off his brutal assault against the bloodied ghoul until he heard Kuroo zip away with you in his arms. 

Even in your current state, you’d be safer away from the scene.

“I don’t think (Y/N) is going to be able to work for a while.”

“Some of the regulars are spooked, but relieved.”

Whatever was holding your arm like a boa constrictor was making sleep really hard. You groaned. Why did your stomach hurt?

“Ah, look who’s up.” Kuroo’s voice was as teasing as always.

Your sight was blurry when you finally came to. The first thing you noticed was the aggressive pulsing in your arm and stomach followed by a warm hand on your shoulder. You tried to shift.

“Ah stupid, don’t do that.” Kozume’s voice, despite a slight rasp, was as gentle as ever.

You sighed and squinted towards Kuroo who stood at the end of — what you were quick to realize—  was your hospital bed. His arms were crossed and the smirk he wore was humorous. “Kuroo, if you say a single word, I will gladly risk further injury to fight you.”

Kenma shut his eyes and rubbed your shoulder before reaching for a hot mug from your bedside table. Kuroo walked around to the opposite side to help you sit up. You watch a thick red sweater fall off your shoulders and onto your lap, in front of your bandaged stomach.

Kenma spoke quietly, “Your sweater was torn to pieces.”

“Like my body?” you joked, only to get a sour look from the man in return. “Sorry.”

He sighed again and handed you the steaming mug. “Here, drink this. You need food.”

Kuroo walked back to the end of the bed, letting Kozume take care of you from then on.

“Coffee is considered a food now?”

Kuroo let out a short chuckle, making you tilt your brow in his direction. Kozume coughed, placing the mug down quickly to lift his red sweater off of your lap. He draped it back onto your chest, tucking it between your shoulders and pillow, then slowly guiding your arms through the sleeves. 

You rubbed your hands together for warmth as Kozume offered you the hot mug again. You took it, thanking him with a shining smile. You once again failed to notice the rosiness of his cheeks, even if Kuroo didn’t.

“You won’t be able to stomach anything else, sorry.”

Why did this take me so long to write…. Oh well. -Bacon

Posted: 14/02/2021

[bigkyloenergy]

𝙃𝙊𝙉𝙀𝙔𝙀𝘿 𝙑𝙀𝙉𝙊𝙈

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘.

a witcher!kylo x reader fic. dark themes, smut ahead. 18+.

summary: you are a barmaid / stablewoman at an inn in toussaint, kylo ren, one of the last of the witchers from the school of the viper regularly stays at the establishment. you wonder what keeps him coming back.

read on ao3.

O Valley of Plenty, O Valley of Plenty….

This song was going to be stuck in your head for weeks. How many times had the bard sang it in the last 24 hours? You could hear him even as you stocked the tables outside, grabbing one of the plates a little too tight when you picked it up. 

It wasn’t as if the man was a bad singer, he had such a following for a good reason — out of all the songs in the land, his favorite was a ballad of Witchers. Reminding you of the last time you’d seen yours, how well you’d memorized the outline of his lips even in the quick look you’d gotten under a setting sun.

Only a few days passed, it felt like weeks. While work would usually occupy you, you spent extra time turning your head toward every incoming guest, just to check if it was him. 

Betty couldn’t stand you working so much, she nearly kicked you out every time dawn began to pass over Beauclair. After you finished the placewear, you said a quick goodbye to cook while you grabbed your things from the kitchen before passing the crowd that was gathered tightly in the inn, warmed by ale and good company. 

Usually, you’d stay after when entertainment was hired at the Pheasantry. You loved music, the tales behind the tunes, letting your body sway and your mind find silence. Ruek didn’t put up an argument either, you figured he was just about as sick of you as the inkeep. And your bed didn’t sound so bad with thoughts of the Viper occupying your mind. 

The cobblestone shined with the reflection of the night sky, the town dressed in a somber silence while your boots clicked down the street. 

Every time you blinked, you saw him. Leading the horse as he fucked you, using the instability to his advantage, leaving you with a bruised cervix, one that demanded you yield every step you took. You weren’t shy to your carnal desires, but he awoke them in a way that seemed unearthly. 

Crickets began to stir in the grass, your walk not being far so you took your time, enjoying the way the buildings looked at night, walking in zigzags since you didn’t have to worry about anyone to run into. Your thoughts were quickly proven wrong when you spotted a hooded woman right in front of your building, like she was looking for something at the bottom of the door.

   “Hey. Can I help you?” You knew the neighbors that lived above you, and the other flat was vacant, and you couldn’t help the suspicion considering the woman wasn’t even trying to ring the bell. 

Her hair fell in raven curls around her face, side profile sharp, and you could tell that her eyes were beautiful even from here. 

  “Are you looking for someone?” 

Again, you tried to gauge her attention, taking a step closer. 

Maybe she was hurt, maybe this was a grandchild of the elderly couple that you didn’t know about. You remembered them telling you that their family was still back home in Novigrad, but maybe you’d missed something in the last conversation you had with the wife.

Reaching your hand out, you barely brushed your fingers over the cloaked shoulder before she was turning, snapping your arm back into your chest. 

What was a regular woman had glowing, white eyes, mouth opening in a hiss — revealing jagged teeth. As you stepped back, fear making you trip over your heel, she advanced on you. In her motions the hood fell, dark hair surrounding her face, and the last thing you saw was her desiccated beauty before everything was black. 

—

    “.... and you, the Witcher who prefers vampires over monsters, come here for a girl?” 

Your head hurt. The ground was hard under you, pebbles indenting your skin while you rolled onto your side. Barely able to register the voice, let alone what they were saying. Blood rushed between your ears. You heard a pop, wondering if it was in your head or wherever you were, trying to recover the last thing you remembered. The woman. 

  “Why don’t you let her stay here, with me?” You cracked an eye, a wall looking back at you, behind you a quick shuffle of feet somewhere before a high pitched shriek burst the tension that was making the room sound like it was underwater.

  “Not as nice as the others say, I thought the first time I met you would be special. A dance of two monsters.” 

  “I don’t dance.” 

His voice, even in your state, had your brain crawling with urgency, looking for the crack of light in confused darkness. 

You rolled again, releasing more tiny rocks that had burrowed in your skin, just in time to see the woman disappear. 

Her clothes the only evidence she was there, Kylo shattering a glass bulb in the same place she’d left. The man grunted, now making eye contact with you. 

The cave began to echo with distant noises of the bruxa. Your head whipped, trying to find the source, adjusting your hindered sight in the darkness. Kylo was turning on his heel, unclipping something from his waistband, another splintering against the floor.

This time, it puffed with silver dust, leaving the air sparkling — and that was when you saw her.

She was decorated by whatever he’d just tossed in that direction, yet you couldn’t completely recognize her, you knew it was the woman outside of the door. The bomb only outlined her frame, but it was enough for him. 

Jumping against the caved walls, she used them to get above the Viper, dropping from the ceiling just as he caught the dagger that was in his left hand between his two forefingers, holding them both to brace for her impact.

Claws scraped along his side, and he took advantage of her weight to grasp her wrist — sending her into the wall next to you. She shrieked, then disappeared again.

Kylo stood above you. He used the curve of his boot, right where your ribcage met your hip, only to toss you farther toward what you assumed was the entrance. 

You gasped, rolling against the floor, trying to protect your softer bits from the collision with the ground. 

Scurrying to the wall, you shrunk yourself against it, pulling your knees into your chest. Still in your skirts from work, you clutched them in clammy palms, the dust burning your nostrils as you swallowed air. 

It was as if you couldn’t completely focus your eyes, Kylo blended with the darkness, his sharp movements as he dodged your captor the only thing spotlighting him. You were too afraid what may come if you looked away. 

His offense was fluid, as if he’d had this fight a thousand times. It was almost like… he wasn’t trying. Kylo would mock her without speaking, his blades barely catching her as she passed, earning gurgling objections from the monster. 

Each time she attempted to invade his space, he was shrugging her off in a lithe twist of his burly body.

The Viper’s very stance was taunting, flicking his daggers outward as if to challenge her. The silver caught in the sliver of moonlight, before it was being tossed through the air and landing directly in her chest. That pissed her off. 

She teleported behind him, jumping onto his back before you could blink, and latched into the side of the Witcher’s neck.

You screamed. 

He shook her off, stumbling forward, gloved hand coming over the wound as she circled him. Crimson dripped from her mutated face, chittering all the way, as if she had already won. You felt your eyes burning with tears, and you refused to let them pass. Monsters was a light term for the cloaked woman who was now besting the Viper. 

Suddenly, her demeanor changed, she was recoling. The noises were turning painful, and this was Kylo’s signal to advance on her. He dropped his hand from his shoulder, grabbing the dagger that was still in her chest. You knew Witchers practiced magic, so you were hoping that would be his big finale to this nightmare. 

It wasn’t.

Kylo coiled his arm around her neck, bringing her back to his chest. She thrashed, and you watched him lock a leg around hers for good measure. He took a few steps like this, making sure that he didn’t lose his grip, and he began to drag the knife upward. Blood splattered at the hilt, splitting open her chest, breaking every bone in its wake. You could hear the cracks between her feral blubbering, snapping her teeth in the air, clawing at any part of him she could find. 

And in one more graceful movement, her top half was completely severed, dropping to nothing in front of her bloodthirsty defeator. And for what seemed like good measure, he pulled out another glass from his pouches, pouring a thick liquid over the body. 

  “What’re you doing?” Your voice broke as you finally spoke, unclutching the skirts that were your only security.

He didn’t even look up.

  “She isn’t dead.” He snapped his fingers, a ball of flame dancing from them, fire sealed her skin before it devoured it, leaving it to ash. 

You opened your mouth again to speak, only nothing came out. So much was on your mind, yet you felt so empty. Numb. You stared at the burnt spot on the cave floor, but Kylo didn’t move. He was watching you, blood still dripping from his shoulder, his mask still perfectly placed over his chiseled nose. 

Through all the adrenaline you were harboring, the desperation to see his face again stayed stubborn.

  “How did you find me? Did you follow.. Where the hell did she even take me?” You stayed in your position, “and what the hell was she? I — thought… you were… She bit you. What were those glasses you were breaking all over the place? Did you just make fire with your fingers? Was she naked?” 

A puff of air through the mixed material in his muzzle was all you got in response, taking a few wide steps to lift you to your feet. You quickly pulled your arm from him. 

  “No. What the fuck? Why can’t you literally answer any questions? Don’t you think you owe me that?” 

  “The second time I’ve saved your life.” he reminded, “I owe you nothing.” 

It was now when you finally got clear vision of his eyes, expecting the golden gaze you memorized, only to nearly collide against the wall when nothing but black looked down at you. Your throat dried, switching between the heavy purple veins under them, and back to his unidentifiable pupils. 

You took a long breath, letting the fear sink into your belly, before you stepped forward, aiming your chin up toward him. 

  “You’ve been in Beauclair this whole time, haven’t you? You just haven’t checked into the inn. Are you avoiding me? You know, you’re the one who decided to pull your dick out on your horse.” 

He growled, taking a deep breath, which only dwarfed you further. 

  “Tell me,” he tipped your chin up, forcing you to meet his dark stare, “are you angry because all you can think about is my cock? You want me to show up at that dull inn and fuck you delerious every night?” Your lips parted, saliva building in your mouth.  

He dropped his hand.

  “Come, or be the next bait for whatever finds home here.” 

Kylo passed you, stepping up the incline that was the exit, even still, you stayed. You crossed your arms over your chest, gauging a reaction from the Witcher. 

  “Maybe whatever comes will show me more mercy than you have.” 

The Viper stopped dead in his tracks, twisting on his heel, before he was closing the space between you at a menacing rate. 

Macabrely stoic, you stared into the abyss that were his eyes, unwavering in your feigned bravery. 

  “Mercy.” He chuckled mockingly, before he snatched you at your throat. Lifting you off of your feet, bringing you level to him. You couldn’t help but think that he looked beautiful like this, his pupils broken, the black matching the armor he wore.

 He surveyed you like this for a moment before releasing you, leaving you to a pile at his feet. 

You grasped at his legs, bringing yourself to some type of stability while you filled your lungs, finding yourself at your knees in front of him. Anticipation breathed at the back of your neck, gooseflesh dressing you. He grabbed your face in exchange, his hand taking the entirety of your jaw with no effort. 

  “You’ll beg for mercy when I’m done with you, little müna.” 

Pushing his leathered fingers into your wet mouth, Kylo forced your jaw open, flattening your tongue while he began to unzip his pants. You churned at the thought of seeing his cock again, ignoring every ounce of morality you had. The dirt under your knees was hard, pinching your flesh as you adjusted your weight. You stared up at him, willing, and he grunted, releasing himself. 

His cock was already hard, waiting, and with the way he prodded your tongue you knew exactly what he wanted from you. But he didn’t give you a beat to do it yourself. 

The Viper removed his hand, shoving his cock in its place, filling you to the base of your throat. You gagged, your fingers reaching to brush against his solid thighs before he smacked your hand away. He reached back up to the shoulder that hadn’t stopped bleeding, coating the glove in the fresh liquid before he smeared it along your face. First your eyes, forcing you to close them, then down your cheeks, painting you in him. 

  “Don’t touch me.” Kylo warned through clenched teeth as he began to push himself into your face, finding a steady rhythm. 

You whimpered against him, leaving your hands in your lap while he collected the majority of your hair in one hand. He snaked his fingers against your scalp, starting at the nape of your neck, letting them lace through the strands before he wrapped it around his knuckles. 

The Viper gave a good tug, forcing you to take every inch of him, bury your nose in his pubes, inhaling his musk, hindering your senses. You were being swallowed by this man, every bit of you knew it, you wanted him in any way he’d give. 

Even if it meant fucking your face on a cave floor after he’d just saved you from a damned vampire. 

“That’s it, choke on it, slut.” He groveled, shimmying your face in a way that would make the tip of his cock bounce along your esophagus. 

Your eyes welled with tears, hollowing out your mouth so you could take this monster’s perfect cock as it should be. Appreciating every inch forced into you, tongue rolling to steal tastes from his slickened skin. 

His sounds egged you on, the low moans that were drowning between his primal growls. You wanted him to go mad with the feeling of your mouth, and this wasn’t enough. You attempted to force your head further, though his hand was doing all the real work, reaching yours up again to cup his balls in your hand. 

You heard a muffled breath before he was ripping you from his erection, forcing you to gaze straight at it, and you were sure no torture device had anything on this. Your spit dripping from his swollen head, the veins protruding and garnishing his dick in the most delicious way. Some saliva dripped from your bottom lip as you looked up at him with confused, desperate eyes. 

Kylo dragged you by your hair, your ass skating across the textured floor, until you met the wall you’d been recoiling to earlier. 

“I told you not to touch me, already stuffed with cock and can’t stop being a disobedient whore.” He spat, before he slammed his cock back into your gaping mouth. 

His thumb hooked at your jaw, over your bottom teeth, dislodging it from your face. You whined, the pain shooting down your neck, through your head, making it harder to breathe when you began to panic. But this didn’t stop the Viper, every time you fussed he would smack his hips hard enough against you that your skull would crack against the earthly wall. 

As you shifted, trying to mask the pain with the pleasure you found in him using you like this — you felt the wetness ruining your undergarments. You squeezed them together in a futile attempt for some pressure, any sort of relief, and Kylo quickly kicked your legs back apart before you could even finish your thought. He held your hair right at the top of your head, forcing stillness, leaning over your body, using your mouth as his personal fuck hole. You could feel him getting harder in your mouth, which only could mean one thing. And you wanted it.

You wanted to feel him shoot down your throat, invade your insides, make home in your belly and know the taste of his spend. 

Excitement was getting the best of you, nipples poking through your blouse as it slipped from your shoulder. He looked down at you, his eyes still plagued with whatever concoction had done this to him, and came in your mouth. 

You tried to open your throat, but the brunt force had swelled it enough to object to swallow. Coughing, you used his cock as a cork to keep the seed down. It was only when you began to feel him softening that he finally pulled out of you. You were more dazed than when you’d woke up here.

Kylo zipped up his pants, watching you all the while. You were beginning to get used to that, the way he looked to you as if you were going to say something earth shattering at any point. Closing your mouth, your jaw clicked back into place with a harsh pang.

Your hand clutched over it, whimpering, trying to move it to make sure that he hadn’t just broken your face trying to use it as a human cock toy. 

Unsure if your feet would even register standing, you lifted yourself to them and your knees immediately wobbed.

The Viper sighed, grabbing you at your hips before he slung you over your shoulder as if you were extra cargo. 

Stepping out of the cave, ducking under the passageways so he wouldn’t hit you along them, his head already reached the top so you were a dangerous addition to his exit. When he mounted Luxe, he didn’t bother with the courtesy of letting you into the saddle in front of him. 

And for the second time, he dropped you at the inn without so much as another word. 

[babyspiderling]

Tiny Dancer p.2

"Just stare into space, picture my face in your hands. Live for each second without hesitation"

"Janet, you can't tell anyone about this." Michael tells her, focused on damage control. Janet fires back without hesitation. "The hell you mean I can't tell anyone? Marlon owes me ten bucks now." I roll my eyes, patting Michael on the back. "Mike,I'm sure your brothers are looking for you. I don't think we want anyone else listening in on this conversation anyways. I'll talk to Jan, ok?" He glances back and forth between his younger sister and I, a concerned look deep in his face. He sighs out an "Ok, fine." and heads back to his dressing room. I turn back to the youngest Jackson. "Listen Jan, I only want what's best for Mike. If it were up to him, and if the circumstances were different, you'd be the first to know on purpose. The world may be changing fast, but we've got a long way to go. The media would flip if word got out that The Michael Jackson was with not only his seamstress, but a white chick at that. Not to mention your father. God, he would kill us if he found out. He'd fire me and i'd never see Michael or any of you again." I deflate in front of her eyes, letting myself show vulnerability to the fifteen year old. "I really do love him Janet. I can't lose him, but I can't just let him risk losing his career over me. I'm the reason we're a secret. Michael is a glass half full person, always trusting and seeking out the positive, but I see what is going to happen if we enter the world of the limelight." When I look into her eyes, her head is cocked to the side, studying me. "Alright, I see where you're coming from. I know Joseph, and you're probably right. Just don't hurt Mike. He's my favorite after all." I nod, relieved that she understood where we are coming from. "I promise to tell you everything you want to know later ok? Maybe at the hotel or while I'm patching up something that the boys unsurprisingly ripped up." Janet giggles, and we make our way back to the rest of the group.

I lay down in the linen sheets of the hotel bed, needing to sleep to be able to get up in the morning to fix a couple of loose buttons and worn knees. I hold a pillow close to myself and let myself float away to dreamland.

The creaking of my door opening stirs me from my slumber. I prop myself up on my elbow, turning on the lamp. "Mike? What's going on?" He's in pajamas, and his hair is mussed. He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, and murmurs out a "Couldn't sleep." I huff and fall back onto the bed. "Fine, get in here. You said so yourself that you sleep better with someone than alone. We've both got an early morning and it's already... 2 AM." His bare feet shuffle across the hotel carpet and the bed slightly creaks as he climbs in next to me. Once he's gotten comfortable, I lay my head on his chest and wrap an arm around him, succumbing to the exhaustion filling my bones.

I wake up to my alarm, letting myself give in to Michaels grip and the temptation to hit the snooze button and spend an extra few minutes in the warmth and security his arms provide. I snuggle close to him and doze off. Once again the door opens up, but I shrug it off, thinking it to be Janet. Instead of her girlish squeal of embarrassment, I hear a masculine shout of surprise. The sharp cry from Randy shocks us both awake. The second youngest Jackson wears an expression of both surprise and smugness. "I knew it! I knew something was going on between you two! Mike, my man, congrats. I knew you'd get her eventually. Now tell me, when did this all start out?" As Michael and I rubbed the sleep from our eyes, Randy had made himself comfortable on the small couch nearby, his chin in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Groaning, I pull myself out of the bed, tugging my shirt down so I don't flash Randy. I pat Michaels shoulder and groan out: "You're taking this one. I talked to Janet last night and I have to get ready. Jackie tore his shirt last night and I've got to make him a new one. Who tears their shirt in the middle of their chest like that?" I sit on my heels to grab my things and head to the bathroom to get dressed.

Finished with make-up, I tie my hair back in a high ponytail. Combing through my hair, Michael enters to get ready himself. "So, how'd it go?" He shrugs a little and reaches for the extra toothbrushes the hotel offers. "Randy promised to keep it a secret until we tell everybody else. He was a little surprised that we've been together since Destiny. He thought it was a recent development, not a three year old relationship." Securing my hair one last time, I turn and smile at my lover. "Well, at this rate, Randy only has to keep it a secret for another 5 days. Go ahead and schedule out a lunch or something for your mother. I want her to know that I love her son more than anything else, and I don't want to keep him a secret anymore. But you have to promise me that if this whole thing goes wrong, your career comes first. You have worked your entire life for this, you are living your dream life, don't throw away your dream for me." He chuckles a bit, and rests his forehead against mine. "If this whole thing goes wrong, I'll hire you again myself. You'll be my personal costumer/seamstress. And no one will be able to get rid of you." I giggle and give a peck to his mouth. "Alright toothpaste lips, finish up and get back to your room. I'm sure you can't go to sound check in your pajamas. And send Janet and Randy back to me. I need her input on somethings and I'm sure Randy has more questions." He finishes up and goes back to his room, the two youngest Jacksons coming in not too much later.

"Alright guys, I'm gonna work some because that is what I'm here to do, but I can answer your questions at the same time." I lay out the fabric on the round table in the room as the two sat down on the couch. They both started talking at the same time, but stopped soon enough. Janet spoke first. "When did this start? How did this start?" I smile at the fabric and respond. "Even when I was growing up, I thought that Michael was the most handsome boy on the planet. But when I started working with you guys 4 years ago I decided to remain professional. This was my dream career and I would not jeopardize it over a celebrity crush. Michael and I became friends not long after, and I actually pushed him away in the beginning. I was so scared that either of us would get attached and it would risk our professional lives. During the music video for Shake Your Body, I was joking around with Marlon and Michael got all huffy. He ranted a little bit and ended up kissing me. It didn't take long until we started actually dating." I flip the fabrics so that the shirt is inside out and pin it together. I move to my machine, and Randy asks: "Why keep it a secret? It's not like anyone here doesn't like you?" I adjust the needle to where I need it and lower the presser foot. "Well, we as a society may have come a long way, but not everyone is going to agree with the fact that Michael Jackson, global superstar, chose to date his seamstress, and then the fact that it's a biracial relationship will send a whole other group into a frenzy. He worked so hard to be where he is, to live his dream, and I felt that if we released our relationship to the public, it could cause a lot of backlash his way. Plus I'm pretty sure that if Joseph found out about us, he'd see me as a distraction, turning his son against him. He'd fire me in an instant. I'd probably never be able to see any of you again. Now that it's suddenly impossible to keep us a secret anymore, we're going to tell Ms. Kathrine soon. Michael is going to schedule it today, and we'll tell her then." Once the two are done with their questions, Janet turns on the radio and we just have a good time until Randy needs to head to the venue. Janet and I finish up, double checking over everything before we accidentally forget anything at the hotel.

We make it to the venue early enough that we make it backstage, and I watch the boys rehearse and just do their thing. Randy meets my eyes from his place behind the bongos, and he sends me a wink. I make my way to the dressing rooms to replace what I fixed for the second night in New York. As I replace the red floral print shirt in Michael's dressing room, my lover walks in. His hair is a little wet from sweat and he has a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin. I giggle as he does his best to freshen up. "I'm glad you don't do sound check in costume. I'd have to make an outfit for every night of the tour, since you guys sweat so much." He sticks his tongue out at me, and then has a mischievous look in his eyes. He turns and creeps towards me, his arms wide to catch me if I tried to escape him. I back away slowly, "Michael, don't do this! I'm a nice person! I just took a shower!" I go to make a break for the door but he catches me and pulls me close, squeezing me tight and rubbing his sweaty face and body all over me. "Michael Joseph Jackson! I'm going to kill you! I'll put you in an outfit from '68!" He just giggles in my ear, enjoying my shrieks and squirms. "No you won't, you love me too much." I push at his arms, trying to get out of his grip. "Not anymore! Randy's my new favorite member!" He bites at my earlobe teasingly, his breath fanning over the shell of my ear, his voice dropping from the usual airy high pitch he speaks in. "Are you sure about that, girl?" I shiver and stutter at the distraction, "Fine, you called my bluff. Now can you please let me go? I need to know when we're telling your mother." Reluctantly, Michael loosens his grip enough for me to grab the towel he used, wiping my own skin down, and I rummage through my purse for my bottle of vanilla. Michael takes a seat and smiles at me. "Girl, you know I get hungry when you wear that stuff. Smelling all sweet and stuff." I chuckle and apply the vanilla to key points. "Tell you what. When we go out to tell your mother I will buy you any dessert you want after." I watch from the mirror as he lifts himself from his seat and slots himself behind me, his mouth close to my neck, and even closer to my ear. He gives a teasing squeeze to my backside and murmurs in my ear: "What if I want you to be my dessert?" I turn in his arms, and deliver a light slap to his shoulder. "Michael! What is with you? You've never been so... forward." He just chuckles and steps away. "Maybe I'm just excited I can finally show you off to everyone. Oh, and we're meeting Mother at lunch tomorrow. I've gotten a reservation for the three of us at Mortimer's. I heard they're really good." I nod and glance down at my wrist watch. "Oh, wow! I've got to make sure Jackie's shirt fits for tonight. Break a leg if I don't see you. And I'm excited to have lunch with your mother. I love you!" I give him a peck on his perfect lips and head out the door. Michael catches my wrist before I can leave and pulls me back to him, giving me a real kiss to make up for my quick peck. I giggle as we break away for oxygen. "Alright love machine, I seriously have to go." I hurry out of his dressing room and down to Jackie.

I've never been so nervous in my life. I have no reason to be nervous. Kathrine doesn't dislike me, in fact she and I have had amazing talks between fittings and shows. But maybe after she finds out that I've stolen her son's heart, her opinion of me will change? If she doesn't approve, will Michael leave me? He is an absolute mommas boy. "Babe, relax. Mother absolutely adores you, and I do too. Everything is going to be absolutely fine. I promise." Michael squeezes my thigh in reassurance, and I take a deep breath to calm myself down.

All three of us are seated at the table and our drinks are ordered. Michael holds my hand under the table, unsure himself how to start. "Mother, I have something to tell you, I am in love with the kindest, most beautiful woman in the world." Kathrine smiles a bit at this and urges her son to continue. "That's amazing honey. Who is it?" Michael and I glance at each other before Michael tells the Jackson Matriarch. "Well, Mother, it's Y/N. She and I have been together for almost 3 years now." There's a mix of emotions on her face, and she opens her mouth, trying to figure out what to say. "Well, Michael, honey, I am so happy you found someone. You deserve to be happy. I just can't understand why you wouldn't tell anyone for all that time." I sigh, opening my mouth. "Ms. Katherine, that's my fault. I wanted to keep our relationship under wraps because Michael has worked so hard to be where he is and I didn't want to be a reason for him to receive backlash. I also knew that Mr. Jackson eliminates any distractions for the boys. I know it sounds selfish, but I would have rather kept him my little secret and not have to give him up than show him off and risk losing not only my job, but the love of my life. I know now that telling you about our relationship is going to make Michael happy, and if his happiness means I am seen as a distraction and the consequences that go with it, so be it. I regret not telling you sooner, and for that I am truly sorry." Katherine listens the entire time with soft eyes, listening to every word I say. Michael grabs my hand on the table and gives it a proud squeeze. Once again Katherine opens her mouth and what she says next almost brings me to tears. "Oh, Y/N. understand. I see you truly care about my son, putting his career before your happiness, and then his happiness over your career. I know that that is not an easy decision, and it really shows just how much you care about him. Now, I won't sugar coat anything, but not everyone will approve of your relationship. A white woman and a black man together won't be the easiest thing for people to accept but you have to remember that it is your happiness, no one else's." I felt like all the weight had been lifted off my shoulders after that. We ate lunch and enjoyed the streets of New York. After Katherine had gotten into her car, I turned to Michael. "Alright, what do you want for dessert?" Pulling me into the back of the car, he placed me in his lap. "Hmm, something sweet, a little spicy... I'll have... you."

Taglist: @accio-boys​

[dherzogblog]

The Birth of The Daily Show: 25 Years of Fake News and Moments of Zen

It was July of 1995 and I had left MTV to become President of Comedy Central. It was the basic cable equivalent of going from the NY Yankees to an expansion team. I was on the job just two weeks when I received a call from Brillstein Grey the high powered managers of Bill Maher, host of one of the networks few original programs, "Politically Incorrect". We were informed Bill and his show would leave the network when his contract expired in 12 months. It was a done deal. Bill wanted to take his show to the "big leagues" at ABC where he would follow Night Line. Comedy Central was left jilted. Terrible news for a network still trying to establish itself. We had a year to figure out how to replace him and the clock was ticking. So began the path to The Daily Show.

It was very much a fledgling Comedy Central I joined, available in barely 35 million homes, desperately seeking an identity and an audience. It was just over three years old, born into a shot gun wedding that joined two struggling and competing comedy networks, HBO’s Comedy Channel and Viacom’s HA!, Watching them both stumble out of the gate, the cable operators forced them to merge, telling them: "We only need one comedy channel, you guys figure it out”. After some contentious negotiations the new channel was born and the red headed step child of MTV and HBO set out to find the pop culture zeitgeist its parents had already expertly navigated. The network had yet to define itself. The programming consisted mainly of old stand up specials from the likes of Gallagher (never underestimate the appeal of a man smashing watermelons), a hodgepodge of licensed movies (“The God’s Must be Crazy and The Cheech and Chong trilogy were mainstays) and Benny Hill reruns. The networks biggest hit by far was the UK import “Absolutely Fabulous”, better know as “AbFab”. Comedy Central boasted a handful of original shows, including the wonderfully sublime "SquiggleVision" of “Dr. Katz”, the sketch comedy "Exit 57" (starring the then unknown Amy Sedaris and Stephen Colbert) and of course Maher’s "Politically Incorrect". In retrospect I don’t think Bill got enough credit for pioneering the idea of political comedy on mainstream TV. Back then he was the only one doing it.

Politically Incorrect performed just fine, but got more critical attention than ratings. It was a panel show, and I had something a bit different in mind to replace it. I knew we needed a flagship, a network home base, something akin to ESPN's Sports Center where viewers could go at the end of a the day for our comedic take on everything that happened in the last 24 hours….."a daily show". I had broad idea for it in my head. I would describe it as part "Weekend Update", part Howard Stern, with a dash of "The Today Show" on drugs complete with a bare boned format to keep costs low so we could actually afford to produce it. We could open with the headlines covering the day's events (our version of a monologue), followed by a guest segment (we wouldn't need to write jokes...only questions!), and finish with a taped piece. Simple, right? We just needed someone to help flesh out our vision.

Comedy Central was a a second tier cable channel then and considered a bit of a joke (no pun intended). It had minuscule ratings, no heat and even less money to spend. Producers were not lining up to work with there. Eileen Katz ran programming for the channel and the two of us began pitching this idea to every producer who would listen. One of the first people we approached was Madeleine Smithberg, an ex Letterman producer and had overseen "The Jon Stewart Show" for us at MTV. We thought she was perfect for the role. “You can’t do this, you can’t afford this, you don't have the stomach for this, it will never work ” Madeliene said when we met with her. We could not convince her to take the gig. Ok then....we moved on. The problem was we heard that same refrain from everybody. No one wanted the job. So after weeks being turned down by literally EVERYONE, I said to Eileen: “We have to go back to Madeleine and convince her to do this with us"!

Part our pitch to her was we would go directly to series. There would be no pilot. The show was guaranteed to go on air. We had decided this show was our to be our destiny and we had to figure it out come hell or high water. As a 24 hour comedy channel, if we couldn't figure out a way to be funny and fresh every day...what good were we? We told Madeliene we were committed to putting the show on the air and keeping it there till we got it right (for at least a year anyway). That, plus some gentle arm twisting got her to sign on. Shortly after that, Lizz Winstead did too.

Madleiene and Lizz very quickly landed on their inspired notion of developing the show and format as a news parody. It brought an immediate focus and a point of view to the process . All of the sudden things started to take shape and coming to life. Great ideas started flowing fast and furious while an amazing collection of funny and talented began to come on board. Madeliene and Lizz were off to the races. Now all we needed was a host.

The prime time version of ESPN's Sports Center was hosted by Dan Patrick and Keith Olbermann back then and it was must see cable TV. But I had recently started to notice another guy hosting the show's late night edition. He was funny, with a snarky delivery reminiscent of Dennis Miller. His name was Craig Kilborn. On the phone with CAA agent Jeff Jacobs one day, I asked if he knew happened to know who repped him? “I do" he said. "We just signed him”. Within days he was in my office along with Madeleine, Lizz, and Eileen who were all a bit skeptical about the tall blond guy with the frat boy vibes sitting across from them. After opening the meeting with a few off color comments that would probably get him cancelled today (an early warning sign fo sure), Craig ultimately won them over and we had our host.

FUN FAC#1: Minutes after the news of Craig's hiring went public, Keith Olberman's agent called me directly to ask why we hadn't considered hiring him?

Ok, we had a host and producers...but what to call it? After sifting through dozens of ideas for a title, Madeleine called me one day and said, "I think we should just call it what we've been calling it all along...."The Daily Show". As we approached our launch date we taped practice shows and took them out to focus groups to get real life feedback. The groups hated it.... I mean with a red hot hate. They hated Craig, the format, the jokes, everything. We were crushed and dejectedly looked around at the room at one another. "Now what?" “Either they’re wrong, or we are". I said I think they are...but it doesn’t matter, we're doing this!" We never looked back.

The show took off quickly garnering some quick buzz and attention, we felt like we had crashed the party. Well, sort of. We had no shortage of fun, growing pains and drama along the way. The Daily Show version 1.0 was about to unravel. In a December 1997 magazine interview Craig made some truly offensive and inappropriate remarks about Lizz and female members of the staff. Whether it was poor attempt at humor or just plain misogynist (or both) is beyond the point. It was all wrong, very wrong. Craig was suspended for a week without pay. Lizz left the show. In the moment I chose to protect the show and its talent more so than Lizz. That was wrong too. It's more than cringe worthy looking back now, and I regret not making some better decisions then. My loyalty to our host was later "rewarded" when in the Spring of 1998 Kilborn's team, a la Bill Maher, unceremoniously informed us he had signed a deal to follow Letterman on CBS when his contract expired at the end of the year. No discussion, a done deal. Comedy Central jilted again. Like Maher, Kilborn wanted his shot at the network big leagues and we had a little over six months to figure out how to replace him. We all know how that chapter ended. That search would eventually reunite us with Jon Stewart who along with The Daily Show took Comedy Central and basic cable to the "the big leagues" on their own terms, redefining late night comedy in the process The rest, as they say, is "Fake News" history.

Fun Fact #2: before approaching Jon (who I did not originally think would be interested) I initially offered the job to a chunkier, largely unknown Jimmy Kimmel, fresh off his co hosting duties on "Win Ben Stein's Money" ...only to have him turn us down.

My fascination with late night began as a kid. I remember how exciting it was to stay up to sneak a peek at the Carson monologue and watch him do spit takes with his chummy Hollywood guests. Later on I also loved the heady adult conversation Dick Cavett would have with everyone from Sly Stone to Groucho Marx. But it was the comedic revolution of Saturday night Live in 1975, followed by Letterman's game changing show in 1981 that truly established late night as the coolest place on the television landscape. I could only dream of one day being part of it.

25 years on, I couldn’t be more proud of The Daily Show and its legacy. Those days helping build it alongside Madeleine, Lizz, Eileen and the team were among the most satisfying (and fun) experiences I have ever had. It was thrilling to take a shot at the late night landscape and try and make our mark, especially when no one thought we could.

I am prouder still of what Trevor Noah and his staff have achieved since they took the hand off from Jon, evolving and growing the show through a new voice and lens. I think my personal "Moment Of Zen" will last as long as Trevor remains behind the desk, allowing me to selfishly boast of having hired every host this award winning and culture defining franchise has ever had.

25 years later. it remains as relevant as ever, a bona fide late night institution, standing shoulder to shoulder with all the great shows that inspired us to start.

[equalstrashflavoredtrash]

Final Request

a/n: This year we’re getting BACK ON OUR BULLSHIT! I got back on my meds and i’ve already written more in a week than I did in prolly all of 2019. What did i write, you ask? Well, it is what it is, and what it is, is filth, utter filth (I may have gotten a little carried away) but hells yeah. Major shout out to @whenimaunicorn​ for not only beta-ing for me, but also cheering me on and helping to keep me motivated

summary: Mando catches a bounty who happens to be an old friend with one final request

warnings: mentions of death/discussion of impending executions, bondage/handcuffs, thigh riding, blindfolding, fingering, choking, spitting, spanking, penetration, rough sex, slight degradation, dom!mando

word count: 6.2k

Din Djarin x female reader//The Mandalorian

(gif by @womp-ratt​​)

Tugging slightly on your shirt, you lowered the scoop collar enough to ensure some cleavage was showing before you raised your cuffed hands to rest on the headrest of your chair and arched your back a bit so your chest was more obvious. Then, quietly as you could, you slipped off your boots and raised a foot, gently running your big toe along his arm. 

The Mandalorian’s reaction was instant, head whipping around to look over his shoulder as his hand swooped to catch your ankle in a flash. The streaking stars of hyperspace reflected off his beskar helmet, following the curve of his head, almost hypnotizing to watch. Biting down on your bottom lip you tried your best to seem alluring while you had his attention. 

“So Mando, you’ve got me here in these binders, wanna fool around?” The proposition was more blunt than your usual pick-up lines, but one thing you knew about talking with the Mandalorian; it was best to get right to the point.

“What?” That was the answer you expected, though you still wished you could see his expression. There was nothing you could do about that, so you wiggled in your seat, freeing your foot from his grasp before elaborating.

“I don’t know if you’ve forgotten what bounty hunting entails but your guild will be delivering me to Crimson Dawn, who are very eager to get rid of me.” Rising from your seat you edged a knee over his legs, sitting yourself square on his lap as you brought your arms to loop around his head—the metal of the cuffs clicking when they met his beskar. “So I was thinking I might have some fun for the last time before facing my doom.” You tried to make eye contact but all you could see was your warped reflections in his dark visor. “You know I had a crush on you, Mando? Back when we worked together.”

“Why does Crimson Dawn want you dead?” he asked, surprising you for a second. You had been focused on his hands—which had come to rest on top of your folded legs—and how warm they were through the leather of his gloves.

“Well,” you hesitated slightly, thinking how best to condense the long story, “I was working with this girl and her gang, when Crimson Dawn hired them for a job. I thought it was a horrible idea—like it was a suicide mission—so I booked it.” You were used to gesturing while talking, but with your hands locked and resting on his shoulders, you ended up just wiggling more, shifting against the metal that protected his legs. You had also noticed the slow creep of his hands, making their way up your thighs towards your hips. “The problem was, I left with my cut of what they paid us up front,” you finished, making a sheepish expression with a half shrug.

“You ran?” 

“Yeah I ran, and now they want my head or their credits—which I don't have.” There was a brief moment of silence as you waited for him to respond.

“Why didn’t you run today?” 

Part of you hoped he wouldn’t ask that. Looking off to the side you chewed on your lip with a sigh as he stayed stoically still—save for his hands.

Your chin dropped, avoiding his gaze—though you couldn’t even see his eyes—focusing instead on the chipped paint around a deep scratch on the breastplate of his armor. “Once I heard through the grapevine that you were the one that had my puck, I knew it was pointless. I knew I couldn’t outrun you, I’ve seen you at work up close, remember?” 

One of his hands left your leg, raising to curl around the nape of your neck as his thumb pushed against your jaw, forcing your head forward to look at him. “Are you scared of me?” His voice came through low from the vocoder in his helmet, even and unreadable. 

You paused, biting at your lip again with no way to see how his eyes flitted to your mouth behind the visor. “Who wouldn’t be? I know what you can do with that blaster and honestly, I never thought I’d be on the receiving end of it.” You blushed at the admission, picturing in your mind all the times you’ve seen him handle his weapons—always confident, exact and deadly. Controlling his guns as if they were a natural extension of his arms. “I have to admit though, it is exciting to be at your mercy. Knowing you could do whatever you want with me.” 

Shifting the weight on your knees, you adjusted your position on his lap just a little bit to the side, so you could grind yourself against the inner lip of his cuisse. With an involuntary shudder you rolled against it, enjoying the way the ridge pressed against your clit. Bringing your cuffed wrists back over his head, you laid your palms flat on his chest—the metal feeling surprisingly warm against your fingertips as they slid across the breastplate of his armor. Through all this the Mandalorian stayed still, showing no sign of reaction, but you could feel his fingers tense for a moment, gripping you tighter as he realized what you were doing.

“Remember that job on Nar Shaddaa? When that alarm went off and you had to take out four guard droids at once?” You said leaning forward, inching your mouth closer to the earpiece on his helmet. The hand around your neck dropped as you moved, coming to rest clearly on the swell of your ass. “I came so hard in my bunk that night thinking about it. The way you plowed through them one by one, none of them even getting a scratch on you.” 

You rocked faster, your motions jostling the piece of metal as you humped his thigh, chasing the delicious friction. Maneuvering awkwardly with the cuffs, you pulled back just far enough to take his wrist in both your hands. You lifted his palm from your thigh and brought it deliberately to rest on the front of your neck. “I used to love watching you choke out bounties that got in your face. I’d imagine you doing the same to me while I rode your cock.”

Mando’s hand rested against your skin for a moment before he pulled away, bringing both to grab your hips, holding you still. The pressure of his grip sent a thrill up your spine. “This is what you want?” His voice was even and level—as hard to read as ever. Still, you could tell his hidden eyes were staring directly into yours through the tinted visor. 

“It is,” you answered with a nod, curling your fingers into his beskar breastplate. Gloved thumbs brushed above your waistband, rubbing small circles on the skin they found. A slight moan slipped out of you at the contact, your voice a higher pitched than intended as you finished, “I want it so bad.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, the Mandalorian’s hands pivoted, twisting your shirt in his fists before tearing it in half with two quick tugs. You were too shocked to react, not even processing what was happening as your newly exposed nipples hardened in the cool air of the ship. 

“Mando!” you yelped, trying to grab his arm but he easily swatted away your bound hands. “What are you doing?” You asked but received no answer as he continued, ripping off a whole strip of fabric from your top. 

You were still so confused by what was going on that you didn't fight as he wrapped the fabric around your eyes. Your head jostled side to side as he secured it, pulling the knot tight. You tried to look at the walls and modules of the cockpit—searching for the familiar, colorful lights of the controls—but there was nothing. 

“Can you see?” Mando asked, his voice suddenly bringing you back to him. You shook your head in response, not sure what this was all for when he started to shift. His hands scooped just under your bottom, pushing you upwards as he leaned forward. Then he hoisted you over his shoulder and stood. 

The beskar pauldron dug into your stomach while your arms hung down his back, useless in the heavy cuffs that swung and occasionally clinked against his armor. His bicep curled around your thighs, keeping your form balanced as he started to move. His opposite hand slid to your ass where it gave a quick smack. 

As if being upside down and dangling over his back wasn’t disorienting enough, you realized you had no idea where he was taking you. Sure, you’d been on the Razor Crest plenty of times before, but that was a while ago and you’d only really ever spent time in the main hold and cockpit—you weren’t sure you’d ever even used the ship’s refresher. You could hear a series of doors open and close, but had no way of tracking where he’d gone. 

Eventually he dropped you to the ground. You swayed, off balance and blind, trying to reach for him to brace yourself before you felt his hand on your collar bone. With an easy push he knocked off your feet, sending you tumbling backwards onto some kind of padding. It wasn’t exactly hard—there was still some give to the cushion—but it was not something you would call soft. 

Just as you realized this might be his bed, the Mandalorian’s hands were on you again, jerking the waistband of your pants down, off your legs. You shifted slightly, aiding in the progress as you raised your feet and helped kick them off, somehow twisting to lay on your stomach before you were finally free. Bringing your knees forward you went to roll back when he grabbed your hip, stopping you. 

“Stay like that,” he said, his voice tight. You could tell this was not a request.

You waited on your hands and knees, trying to be patient, and listened for any hint of what he was doing. You couldn’t help but wonder what this personal space looked like—Were there any decorations? Did he have any small collections? Trinkets that held old memories? Before now if someone asked you would’ve guessed that he slept in the pilot's seat sitting bolt upright—but now you knew he had a bed because you were in it. 

Naked. 

On all fours with your ass in the air, waiting for him to fuck you. 

You were abruptly made aware of the Mandalorian behind you when his hands grabbed around your hips, pulling you back against something strong and warm. It was his chest—his real chest—he had taken off his armor. Mando was still wearing a shirt but you didn’t care. Pushing back against him, you sighed at the pressure of him so close against you. He squeezed your hip, rutting against you as his other hand came to cup your breast. You were keening at the contact, loving the way he rolled your nipple between his fingers when you felt a sharp nip to your shoulder, accompanied by what you could’ve sworn was a warm breath.

“What—” you yelped, attempting to pull away but instead being held in place by his strong arms. His face found its way to your neck, nipping at the tender skin there. “Did you just bite me?” You asked, trying to keep your voice even as he drew closer to that particular spot behind your ear. Shying away, you dropped your head, pushing back but his hand left your hip to cup your chin, easily holding your head against your opposite shoulder—opening your neck to his lips. The next bite was hard, obviously trying to leave a mark as you let out something between a whimper and a moan. 

“What did you think the blindfold was for?” his voice was clear and in your ear as his lips brushed against it. He sounded so familiar but still completely different without the digital output. 

The next thing you knew he was maneuvering you to lay on your back, your head hitting a pillow as he drew one of your legs to curl around his hip—keeping you spread open as he knelt to your side. You let out a small ‘oof’ as you landed, feeling the way your torn shirt fell open, the bits left gathering along your sides. Drawing your arms forward, you made to cover yourself when his touch surprised you again. He jerked the binders above your head, yanking your arms up and leaving your chest exposed. 

“Keep them raised,” he ordered and you couldn’t help but nod in agreement as his hand started to trail down your side and across your belly, coming to curl over your mound. You’d had a crush on the Mandalorian since the first time you saw him take down a foe, and even with all the time you spent thinking of him as you touched yourself, you never thought you’d actually get to experience the real thing. Somewhere in the back of your mind you were suddenly grateful for all the missteps and bad luck that landed you on his ship.

You huffed as he started to rub your lips. He hummed, a sound from deep in his chest that fanned a fire in you. The Mandalorian was barely touching you and you were already trembling for him. His finger slid between your lips, and he groaned, “So wet already.” The digit pulled up and a rough callous you knew was from years of handling weapons and hunting bounties brushed against your clit. Back arching, you let out a sharp gasp and buried your face against your bicep. 

“Sensitive little pussy isn’t she?” Mando almost taunted. You could hear his grin, knowing he was watching the reactions he drew out of you as he swished his finger, barely applying any pressure. Adding a second, he rubbed both against your entrance—circling without sinking in. The light, tantalizing touches were both too much and not enough. You wriggled down on his fingers, feeling the way your walls fluttered at the possibility of having any part of him inside you. 

“I think she likes me.” Mando’s voice without the vocoder was a deep timber—something rich you’d never thought to imagine, but the sound of it made your gut flip with every word he spoke. 

The Mandalorian continued to rub your pussy, his brief touches kept you on an edge wanting more. You couldn’t help it when your hands flew up. Grabbing at his arm braced next to your ribs, you tried to get enough purchase to push yourself harder against his fingers. 

Before you were able to find relief, both of his hands wrapped around your forearms, pushing them back down next to your ears. His torso leaned forward to reach, bringing your leg around his hip further towards your chest, stretching the muscles in your groin. Despite the ache, you couldn’t help but notice just how wet one of his hands felt against your skin.

“I said keep them raised.” His tone was severe, any hint of teasing gone. Keeping his body pressed firmly over yours, he released one hand. You wondered for a moment what he was doing until you felt him smack you, hard, against your pussy. Though you jumped at the shock of contact, you barely moved with how well he had you pinned. “I expect you to behave,” he explained, rubbing against your lips before giving you another slap. “I am going to do whatever I want with you, just like you requested—” slap, “—and you’re going to take it like a good girl. Can you do that?”

You nodded at first but received one more smack. “Yes, yes I can—fuck, Mando—yes I can do that.”

“Good girl,” he purred in your ear, pulling back and taking his weight off your forearm to sit up. You kept still, waiting as he paused before you felt him lean back down. Thanks to the blindfold you had no warning when his lips crashed against yours. 

The Mandalorian’s kiss was hungry. Eagerly he nipped at your lips, not even waiting for permission before his tongue was in your mouth, exploring every inch it could find. Desperate for more contact, you pushed your chest up, feeling the fabric of his shirt drag across your nipples—ever mindful to keep your hands above your head as you rolled your body against him. That’s when you felt something hard pressed between his hips and your upturned thigh.

You were so focused on his mouth and the scratch of his facial hair, you didn’t notice his fingers until they slid into you. With a gasp your back arched as his touch dipped further. Mando captured your bottom lip with his teeth, bringing you back into the kiss as he pumped his arm. Curling his fingers, he dragged his touch along your inner walls, adding the perfect kind of pressure that sent jolts of tingles down your limbs.

He broke away with a pop, leaving you panting with swollen lips. As a natural post-kiss reaction you tried to open your eyes and found blackness, reminded again of the blindfold. You felt dazed with your head buzzing from the kiss and there was a notable ache between your legs.

“I'm going to roll you over,” Mando stated, grabbing your attention instantly. “I want you on your knees.” You shifted easily enough, guided by his hands on your waist as you adjusted—pulling yourself up and twisting to face away from him. 

Although you couldn’t see where Mando was when he wasn't touching you, you knew he was still watching. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you bowed your shoulders so your ass was in the air and wiggled your hips. You could hear the groan he let out, feeling how his weight bent the cushion around your knees as he settled behind you when his palm dropped with a crack against your ass. 

“Don’t stop,” Mando ordered as his hand left your now tingling skin. You moved faster, trying to add a flick and hoping it was a view he enjoyed. 

Your show ended suddenly when you felt something warm and blunt press against your mound. You moaned, rising to your hands as he pushed further against you. The head of Mando’s cock slipped between your lips easily. He slapped your ass again, this time grabbing a handful and pulling your cheeks apart so he could watch what he was doing to you. It felt delicious when he bumped against your clit—each time a heat flooded through you in waves.

Nudging forward, he sank into your warmth, gliding easily through the slick that had gathered. You bit your lip, humming in relief at the sensation. Mando began to rock, slowly working his way in, stretching your walls so that he could fit until his hips bumped against your ass. You couldn’t help but notice just how big he actually was. You felt so full but the ache of finally having him inside you only helped to stoke the elation that was bubbling up within you.

“She’s so tight,” he groaned, keeping still to just enjoy the warmth of your pussy enveloping his cock. His arms wrapped around your ribs, one hand grabbing at your tit as the other came to your neck. Squeezing your throat, he drew you up against his chest—the fabric of his shirt feeling scratchy against your sensitive skin. You gasped at both the pressure of his grip, and the way the head of his cock brushed against your walls as you shifted. 

Holding you in place with the hand around your neck, he reached down, sliding his other palm along the back of your arm before lifting at your elbow. You raised your hands how he guided until your arms were straight out in front of you. 

Maybe the lack of sight was heightening your other senses but you could almost feel the rumble in his chest so close to your back as he spoke, “I want you to keep your arms up like this, ok?” His breath was hot as it brushed against your ear, distracting you as you nodded your head and squeaked out a confirmation. 

The Mandalorian held you against him as he buried his nose in your hair, his slight moustache tickling the lip of your ear. “You’d do anything I want, wouldn’t you? You and this sweet little pussy,” he murmured as he started to rear his hips, drawing almost all the way out before slamming back in. “I want to see how much she can take.” He started to rock against you in short, hard thrusts while his hands dropped to your waist. Fingertips dug into your sides as he held you up, cool air quickly filling the space between you as his chest left your back. “Remember to keep your arms up,” Mando’s voice was clear but you could hear him grunting as he plunged into your warmth.

You tried, you really did try to follow his orders, and you lasted almost a full minute. But the way he was slamming into you—his cock bumping against a spot in you that sent a thrill up your spine with every push—and with the added weight of the binders, you couldn’t keep your arms in the air and quickly dropped forward crashing into the bed. Laying head first in his sheets you were overwhelmed by the unmistakable smell of Mando—something clean but musky that was impossible to replicate—that had sunk into his bedding over years of sleeping here. Face buried into the pillow you groaned, totally surrounded by him while trying to brace against the unrelenting pace he had settled into. 

Mando was saying something but you couldn't hear him over your own muffled wails. He slapped your ass again while his other fisted the tattered remains of the shirt you’d forgotten you were still wearing. With a hard yank he pulled you back—far enough your hands couldn't reach the bed but not so far you could brace yourself on your knees alone—effectively forcing you to hold your arms out in order to remain balanced as he fucked you.

“Fuck—Mando, please,” you begged, not able to think straight enough to fully articulate what you needed but he seemed to understand. His hips slowed and he pulled you further back to his chest again. 

You trembled as he wrapped his arms around you—one holding your own arms against your chest as his other came to your mouth. Two of his fingers slid past your lips as you rolled your head back to rest on his shoulder. Closing your mouth with a moan you sucked on his digits, swirling your tongue to make sure they were covered in saliva. He hummed in your ear, taking his hand away and drifting down your torso. Once his touch found your clit, his wet fingers started to draw little circles around the bud. You could’ve melted at the moment—that little pressure mixed with the slow grind of his cock inside you was quickly drawing out your orgasm.

“You gunna cum?” Mando asked, picking up the pace of his hand ever so slightly as you let out a breathy ‘yes’. Your hips moved on their own, chasing the tension you could feel building as the coil inside of you tightened, threatening to release at any second. “I want to feel that,” he all but growled in your ear, when his touch unexpectedly left your pussy, “But not yet.”

“What?” you gasped, feeling him pull out of you. There was an audible squelch as he slipped out, his cock thoroughly soaked with your juices that you could now feel leaking down your inner thighs. “No! Mando, wait—!” Kneeling in the middle of the bed you groped the air around you, looking for him with your hands. You nearly sobbed until his lips pressed against yours. Immediately your fists dug into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as his tongue danced with yours. His fingers wove into your hair, his palm cupping the back of your skull, deepening the kiss for a moment before breaking away again. “No, Mando-o,” you whined, holding on tight when you heard him laugh.

“Look at you, such a desperate mess begging for me,” he mumbled, still chuckling as he pressed a comforting chaste kiss to your lips, “I’m not going anywhere, just laying down.” 

You relaxed your grip but still kept both palms on him as he settled back. Unable to see what he was doing you waited, feeling him adjusting his position before one of his hands squeezed your thigh, “Ok, climb on up.”

Hesitating for a second you eventually leaned forward, bracing yourself on his chest as you swung one knee over his thighs. The fabric of his trousers rubbed against you as you settled down, mopping up some of the slick mess that coated your legs. How you wish you could see the view before you; Mando laid out and sweating—eager for you. You could tell he was stroking his cock with one hand by the way his knuckles brushed against your mound, the other thumb swirling small circles over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. 

Rising onto your knees, you scooted forward, bringing your hips closer to his. “Right there,” Mando hummed, stopping you with the hand on your waist as his other positioned himself. He swiped the head through your lips a few times, brushing against your clit with each pass. You could feel your legs trembling when he finally lined up with your hole. 

With a deep sigh you dropped your hips, pushing down against him. It felt right as he filled you, like you had been truly empty without him. Mando’s other hand came to rest on your thigh, groping and squeezing whatever he could reach as you eased yourself onto his length. 

You could hear his reaction, the soft groans as he enjoyed your warmth, before he finally hissed out, “Oh fu-uck.” The hitch in his voice made your insides vibrate. Your bottom came to settle on his hips—fully sheathed inside of you and deeper than before—and you could feel Mando shifting to sit up, pushing himself as one hand grabbed at your hair. 

“Filthy little slut, aren’t you? So wet for the bounty hunter that caught you,” he growled in your ear, holding your head in place as he pressed his nose to the side of your face so his stubble dragged across your cheek. In response you moaned and shifted your hips, unable to hide the reaction you felt at his words, “Easiest bounty I ever had.” 

His other hand flew up, wrapping around the column of your neck with ease. “You know you’re supposed to run from me, not beg me to fuck you,” The Mandalorian’s voice was low and chiding, having fun reminding you just how readily you’d given yourself up to him, and just how vulnerable to him you were right now. 

“Open your mouth.” You followed the command without hesitation, dropping your jaw as far as you could. He took a quick inhale and then spat, the glob of saliva landing square on your outstretched tongue. Closing your lips you made a show of swallowing hard, your throat pressing against his palm as you gulped. His grip tightened, fingers digging into your jugular hard enough to restrict blood flow. “You said you wanted this, now show me how bad.” Leaning back, his fist left your hair as he ordered, “Make yourself cum on my cock.”

Eager to please you started to grind down, rutting against him so that his pelvic bone hit your clit and the head of his cock bumped inside of you. Mando’s hand smacked hard against your ass and you let out a silent yelp, barely any air getting past with the way he held your neck. 

Bringing your palms to rest flat on his soft belly you lifted your hips instead—rising up, up, up and then dropping, reveling at the drag of his cock inside of you. You guessed he liked this too by the lack of spanking and so you continued, riding him as hard as you could. The way you moved—leaning forward with every rise—pressed your own throat harder into his palm choking yourself on his grip as you humped against him.

The broad expanse of his palm against your neck felt better than you had imagined, the way he held you in place, watching as you bounced and wailed. You could feel your end drawing rapidly closer, tiny shocks dancing through you as forewarning. Shifting your hands, you tried to rub your own clit but were unable to reach with the binders on. Mando noticed and brought his own thumb to press down on your bundle of nerves.

That contact of his finger alone was enough to push you over the edge. All of your limbs froze, tensing as you came. A staggered whine left your mouth as you felt your inner walls spasming around Mando’s cock. 

You were still careening, your mind blank as you felt him pushing up from underneath you. The head of his cock continued to ram against that spot inside you—feeling all too overwhelming—as you realized he had taken over when you slackened and was now thrusting up into you. Letting out a loud moan you tried to push him away, the overstimulation seemed to be leading to another orgasm edging in before the last had even finished, but he easily immoblized your cuffed hands and chased his own end, fucking up into your pussy as hard as he could.

You gasped and reeled, a complete mess above him, held up only by Mando’s hands as you crested again. The way your walls squeezed Mando’s dick as you came quickly brought him to his own release. Something warm pulsed inside you as his whole body went rigid, his hands gripping your wrist and neck flexed hard enough to bruise as he came with a gutteral sound from deep in his chest. He shifted, trying to push deeper before dropping to sag against the mattress. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hold on you loosening and falling to your hips. Your hands slid across his chest as you dropped forward to lay against him. Mando’s palms found your ass as you felt his softening cock slip out of your aching pussy. 

“Fuck is right,” you laughed, your breath dancing across his collarbone as you relaxed. His fingertips ghosted up your spine, brushing your skin ever so gently. “Screw all your bounties like that?” You teased, unable to hide your smile as you nudged your nose against his jaw—enjoying the scratch of his overgrown stubble. 

“Believe it or not, you’re the first,” the Mandalorian sighed, turning his head to capture your lips in a lazy kiss. 

“Glad you didn't throw me in carbonite right away,” you hummed, playfully nipping at his mouth as you laid, sprawled across his broad chest.

“That makes two of us,” he replied, helping to shift your dead weight to the side where you still remained wrapped around him. “If you give me a moment, you can take the blindfold off.” 

His offer was replied to with a groan as you clung tighter to him.

 “Don’t go anywhere, I don’t even notice it anymore,” you yawned as you dug your fingers into his shirt, enjoying his arm around your shoulders. It wasn’t a lie—you were barely aware of the the fabric over your eyes as you nestled further into the warmth of his body, easily drifting off to sleep.

---

Waking up you were beyond disoriented, with no idea where you had fallen asleep this time. That lasted until you shifted to sit up. A dozen different aches shot through your body, making themselves all known at once—the most prominent coming from between your thighs. 

Memories from the night before—was it the night before? How long had you been asleep?—flooded your mind and you shivered, remembering the ways the Mandalorian had touched you and all the dirty things he had whispered in your ear. That’s when you realized you weren’t wearing the blindfold or binders anymore. 

Rubbing at your wrists, you massaged where the cuffs had irritated your skin and looked around. There was nothing notable or personal about the space after all. Everything was in neat order, and clean, with almost no way to tell that someone actually lived here—no way except for the smell. 

Remnant whiffs of sex and sweat still hung in the air, but there was something under that—something deep and warm and comforting—that was purely the Mandalorian. You felt yourself relaxing, eased by the scent, as you shifted to sit on the edge of the bed despite the protest in your limbs.

Your thigh brushed against a soft, neatly folded black shirt—a perfect little square left out for you. Shrugging off the remnants of your old top, you felt yourself grinning. 

The shirt was warm, made from some type of wool, with long sleeves you had to roll up so they wouldn’t cover your hands. Once it was on, you couldn’t help but bring the collar to your nose and take a deep breath, inhaling his clean smell that clung to the fabric. 

You took your time getting dressed before leaving the bedroom, sure you’d never see this space again. Shaking your head, you chased away those dark thoughts, trying not to focus on the fact of your impending doom as you slowly made your way to the cockpit with ginger steps. 

Coming to the co-pilot's chair, you let out an involuntary groan while easing yourself into the seat. The sound caught the Mandalorian’s attention, who looked back over his shoulder, watching the way you winced as you settled in.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, his voice coming out flat and unreadable again, altered by his helmet. You noticed the slight tilt of his helmet, and shifted your hands, pulling the rolled cuffs down to cover the bruises from the binders.

“Sore,” you replied frankly but unable to hide the smile as you looked at him, reminded of all the reasons why you felt just so, “but it’s a good ache.” Mando said nothing in response but you got the sneaking suspicion that he was also smiling at the same memories.

“How much longer till we reach Nevarro?” The question broke the comfortable silence between the two of you, but that anxious part of your brain needed to know how much longer you had left.

“We’re not going to Nevarro,” the Mandalorian stated simply, the visor of his helmet staying trained on you. 

“What? But Greef’s on—,” you start but he was quick to interrupt.

“I’ve set the coordinates to some planet out of Crimson Dawn’s reach,” he began to explain, turning back to the ships controls as you sat with your mouth agape, frozen mid protest. “It’s somewhere they won’t find you.” Mando shuffled around, absently checking gauges and flipping switches. “I’ll tell the guild your body was destroyed, a bomb went off or something. Karga will vouch for me and then as far as anyone who cares to ask will ever know, you’ll be dead.” 

There was a long moment where the cockpit was totally silent, neither of you responding as you processed what he’d just said.

“Mando,” Your voice caught in your throat as you tried to talk. “Mando, do you still have that blindfold?” you asked quietly, grabbing his full attention as he twisted in his seat to look at you. 

“Yeah, I—uh, I do. Why?” You could see his hand shift to the pocket or pouch he’d tucked away the scrap of cloth. 

You were climbing onto his lap before he even realized you had stood up. Settling your weight on his thighs with your hands on his shoulders—just as you had been the day before—while ignoring the feeling in your joints as you inched closer. “Because I really want to kiss you right now.”

Mando held up the blindfold and you snatched it away, quick to secure it back around your eyes with a tight knot before reaching forward. Just as your fingers bumped against the edge of beskar, his hands were grabbing yours out of reflex.

“I can’t see anything, I promise,” you murmured while staying as still as possible, waiting for his grip to relax. When it did, his hands stayed on top of yours, cupping them as you began to lift. The helmet was heavier than you expected, weighty in your hands, as you held it between the pair of you. Leaning over the beskar dome, you brought your mouth to his. 

His lips felt warm and soft, welcoming and eager as he pressed back against you. Mando shifted, removing the helmet hugged between your bodies as one hand came to your jaw. Taking your bottom lip between his, he sucked as his moustache scratched along your skin. Your hands threaded into his hair, pressing yourself against him as hard as you could. 

“It’s going to take a day or so still,” Mando rasped, breaking the kiss to catch his breath but not pulling away, keeping you close enough his lips brushed against yours as he spoke. “A day or so until we reach the planet and I was—uh, I was thinking that we could—if you want to I mean, we don’t have to do anything if you’re still sore—.”

You got Mando to shut up with a hard kiss, rolling your hips against his as an answer. 

//

tagos: @whenimaunicorn @fat-zygerrian @cptnbvcks @no-droids @laketaj24 @tiyetiye @grungyblonde @rzrcrst @mrsparknuts @lokiaddicted @singledadharrington @ivars-heathen @gentlyphotographing @theduchessofkirkcaldy @archenemydavidlandlord @themandjalorian @fanfiction-trashpile @mando-deserves-hugs​ @constant-arts​ @hellomothermoon @flapjacques​ @inforapound​

I do expect to write more abt our favorite Mandalorian, so if you want to be tagged leave a reply on this saying so

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 1: 

The sounds of hard bone hitting flesh made Peter wince as he furiously scrubbed at the now non-existent stains on the hard, polished wood of the bar. His eyes were down cast as he tried to ignore the massacre in front of him with every fiber of his being. Despite it being early in the afternoon, his shift had already started off quite eventfully, with a barroom brawl. Even now, he found it hard on himself not to intervene. However, he knew he couldn’t draw attention to himself. In this type of environment, attention was either bad or worse with no better or inbetween. It was something he couldn’t afford.

A thump in front of him drew him out of his musings, his Spidey Sense starting to tingle quite annoyingly. Whoever was in front of him was dangerous. A deep voice started to speak.

“Old fashioned,” came the demand. Peter nodded silently, willing his face to be impassive as he concentrated on making the drink for the man. When he was done, he slid the drink over to the bar counter.

“Here you go sir,” he uttered politely, glancing up and taking note of the patron. He was an older man who wore a black, fitted T-shirt that displayed his assets clearly, biceps bulging as he leaned leisurely against the counter. White hair covered his head, cut recently as the smell of fresh shampoo came off of him to reach Peter’s sensitive nose. He could also clearly see little hairs clinging to the black of his shirt. The man had an eye patch over his right eye and was huge as well.

When he finished his drink, he slid it back over to him, and stood up at his full height, towering well over Peter and the rest of the patrons in the bar. The man’s one eye glanced at him, appraising him and Peter couldn’t help but blush a bit. He looked away, but not before noticing the slight twitch of the man’s mouth as he did.

‘Fuck,’ he thought and to avoid more embarrassment, Peter glanced around the large man to look at where the brawl had gotten to now.

“You new here?” Peter’s large eyes came back up to meet the other man’s and he nodded shyly.

“Yeah, a little over a month.” Eye-Patch (as Peter has now affectionately nicknamed him) hummed and stared at Peter for a little while longer, who fidgeted uncomfortably. Even though there was plenty of noise within the mostly empty club, the silence between both men was getting to Peter, which prompted him to ask a question. “Do you come here often?” The man grinned.

“Not before.” That made Peter blink. He tilted his head in confusion. He was obviously missing something here.

“Huh?” Eye-Patch laughed, gaining the attention of several people around them.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Peter bristled a bit at the nickname, “just that you should probably expect me more.” Reaching into his pocket, Eye-Patch pulled out several hundred dollar bills and threw them towards Peter, whose eyes widened at the sight. “Just for you. Keep the change.” And he walked out the door without another word. Peter gaped at the door for a long while before looking at the neat bills on the counter.

“Weirdos,” he grumbled underneath his breath but not before pocketing the money. Another low thrum sang at the back of his head and he felt a presence sidle up beside him. He knew who it was without even looking.

“Hey Petey Boy!” Peter grabbed the glass that Eye-Patch just drank out of and began washing it.

“Hey Harley. What’s up?” The woman squealed happily, popping the gum in her mouth obnoxiously. Peter found that he quite liked Harleen Quinzel, after he worked past his first impression of her.

“Nothin’ much,” she drawled out teasingly, her blonde pigtails bouncing around her, “just wonderin’ when ya’ became such good friends with Deathstroke over there.” Peter grabbed a rag hanging on the bottom countertop and started to wipe down the glass in his hands.

“Who?” Harley giggled loudly, toying with the hem of Peter’s T-shirt as she grabbed onto one of his arms. He glanced down at her with a soft, curious look and she rolled her eyes playfully.

“Y’know, hunky Eye-Patch guy? Guy who just left?”

“Ah,” Peter realized before questioning, “his name is Deathstroke?” Harley rolled her eyes again.

“No, silly! His real name is Slade Wilson. He’s a mercenary for hire.”

‘Guess that answers that question.’ Harley blew a bubble and popped it again, winking suggestively at him, “and he was so interested in you!” Peter snorted.

“Nah. I’m new here so he was just asking. Besides, he’s a bit too old for me.” The look on Harley’s face was dubious.

“Uh-huh. Sure, honey. I’m just saying, he’s pretty hot. Also,” he felt a squeeze on his bicep, “have you been working out? You’re ripped!” Her smile became mischievous. “Trying to impress someone? Ooh! Ooh! Is it me?” Peter gave a small laugh, his curly hair bouncing as he shook his head.

“I’m always trying to impress you, Harls.” The blonde giggled and leaned over to kiss his cheek before swiping her thumb across it, wiping away the lipstick.

“Aww, you sweetie. If I didn’t have my puddin’, I would be with you in a heartbeat.” Peter forced a smile as Harley made heart eyes at the mention of her on-again-off-again boyfriend. Right now, it was decidedly on. If you asked Peter, he would say he knew the signs of an abusive relationship when he saw them. “Anyway. I just came ta tell ya’ that your shift for this afternoon ends right now and I’ll see you in a few hours!”

“Okay, thanks.” She kissed his cheek once more, not bothering to wipe away the residual lipstick before flouncing out of the bar. Peter wished she could see that she could do so much better than a man nicknamed ‘The Joker.’ Somewhere among the brawl that still had not stopped, the sound of glass shattering grabbed his attention. Peter sighed.

‘I better clean that up before I leave.’

-----

Peter walked the few blocks that it took to get to the homeless shelter where he stayed. He opened the door that housed the tens of people that wandered the streets, and closed it softly behind him. Setting towards his cot, he noticed that people were bustling around like crazy, and a nice smell was coming from the kitchen. His stomach grumbled but he willed it to stop. He needed the money to get a new place and he was a few hundred away from achieving his goal for the upfront portion. He was lucky that Harley decided to help him out and aid him in forming a bank account here. Peter reached his cot and sat down, noting that, luckily, no one had tried to steal his stuff. Again. Settling back against the pillows, Peter thought about the past couple of months.

He had first come to this world so unfamiliar to him through some sort of magical portal. God, he fucking hated magic sometimes. Mr. Stark had let him go into his lab unsupervised for the first time since the incident involving the toaster, pink glitter, and the flamethrower.

It was nice.

He was sitting at one of the tables, tinkering around with one of his web shooters, Led Zeppelin (“For the sake of America’s Ass™, Peter, it’s ACDC!”) booming in his ears when suddenly, he felt himself being pulled back, a cold feeling settling across the back of his neck and making its way to the rest of his body. Then, a weird expression came over his face as another feeling came over him, like he was being stretched thin, but it didn’t hurt. There’s a quick flash of a blinding light, causing him to shut his eyes (his overly reactive senses are a blessing and a curse) tightly and the next thing he knows, Peter hits the ground hard, his body making a soft thudding noise.

The first thing to register is the sight. It wasn’t overly bright, like the light was. In fact, it was rather dark. Brick walls surrounded him from two sides, indicating that he was in an alleyway of some sort. It wasn’t too spacious and various bags of trash were littered all over the place. Doors were lined along the brick walls, all closed and looking uninviting. Then came the smell. It was horribly pungent, probably even to the regular nose.

To Peter’s nose, however, it was hell. He could practically feel his olfactory glands swelling from the amount of stink he was admitting into his body. Gagging, he tried to stand up to get away from the smell only to stumble and nearly eat the gravel under him.

‘Parker Luck fucking sucks,’ he thinks as he collapses against one of the doors on the brick walls, then thinks groggily, ‘hey, that rhymed.’

He rested his head against the cool metal for a moment before his Spidey Sense, sensitive and overly reactive at the moment, blares a warning, making him shoot backwards. He lays on the ground for less than a second when the door he had previously rested on opened with a bang. His head pounded more than it ever did before, and the added sound of the metal banging against the brick and a high pitched voice screeching didn't help either. Peter squinted at the rather tall female figure standing in the doorway screaming obscenities into the lit room.

She screamed her last words, no response following her, and stepped outside with a huff, slamming the door behind her. Peter closed his eyes again, and laid his head against the concrete sullenly, fully expecting her to leave him. If he was a woman in a city at night, he would do that too.

“Oof, yer’ lookin’ kinda rough there buddy.” Peter’s eyes popped open in surprise. The woman was standing over him, a look of sympathy and concern displayed on her pale face. She crouched down and the closer she got, the more clearly he could see her features. She was pretty, with alabaster skin and platinum blonde hair pulled into pigtails, the ends dyed red and blue. Her bright blue eyes blinked curiously at him as he laid unmoving for a second.

“I fe’l rough’,” he croaked, his hands rubbing at his throat in an effort to ease the pain he felt as he spoke. The woman clicked her tongue and reached for his wrists, bringing them away from his neck.

“Alright, sweetie, I need you to answer every question as best as you can okay? I’m a doctor, I can help you.” Peter groaned and pointed to her, his arm bending at the elbow to raise his finger in the air.

“Wha’s yur’ name?” He managed to slur out. ‘Stranger danger Parker,’ he reminded himself in lieu of Mr. Stark. If he were here, he would be shaking his head in disappointment, Peter was sure of it.

“Ah, how rude of me! Ma names Dr. Harleen, but ya’ can call me Harley!” The hand pointing at her turned into a wave, greeting her.

“Hey,” he replied weakly, “my name’s Peter. Peter Parker.” He could hear the grin in Harley’s voice.

“Well, Peter Parker, tell me. Are ya feeling nauseous or dizzy?”

“Yes.”

“Any ringing in the ears?”

“No.”

“A headache? Are ya feeling really tired?”

“Not that bad of a headache. Tired, yes,” he sighed, fatigue heavy in his voice, “look, Doctor, I don’t have a concussion. Just feeling weird right now.”

“Ya drink before you came here or eat something weird?”

“No, I’m just weird like this.” Harley was silent for a moment.

“Do ya want me to help get you home?” Peter sighed again, pushing his arms up to help himself lift his torso so he was sitting upright.

“I, uh, don’t have a home,” he looked around the alley, his senses starting to clear (though his nose still throbbed at the smell), “where am I, by the way?” Harley leaned into his vision, a slightly incredulous look on her face.

“You don’t know where you are?” Peter shook his head, happy his headache was now subsiding. The disbelieving expression didn’t disappear from Harley’s face. “Well, you, puppy, are in Gotham, the most crime ridden city in the world.” Peter sent Harley a weird glance.

“Gotham? Like Gotham City, Batman’s Gotham City?” The second the sentence went out of his mouth, Harley covered his lips with her hand.

“Never say that name unless you’re looking for a death wish!” She hissed at him, her eyes hard. “Promise me!” Wide eyed, Peter nodded reluctantly and he was let go. It wasn’t like he read the comics or anything. He didn’t really know much about Batman. Just that he had a sidekick named Robin and they fought the Joker on a regular basis. Harley straightened, causing him to look up at her. She extended her hand which he took and he slowly stood up with her help. She dusted him off, her hands sweeping across the back of his jacket and the front of his shirt for him. He nodded in thanks.

“Do ya have your phone on ya?” He reached into his back pocket and felt that, yes, thankfully, his phone was still in his pocket. He tugged it out and unlocked it, tapping on the call icon. He goes straight to Tony’s number. A ring doesn’t even make it onto his phone before the screen says that there’s no service for his phone. He sighs forlornly. There goes trying to contact home.

“Sorry Harley, I don’t have service here.”

“So ya don’t have service, no way to contact home, and ya have no idea where ya are?” Peter shook his head. It was Harley’s turn to sigh. “Alright, puppy, yer' comin’ with me. I know a nicer homeless shelter than any of the ones they got on Grand.” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the alleyway onto the nearly empty street. He should’ve probably been concerned that he was heading somewhere with a random woman, granted one who had tried to help him. There was still a low thrum of danger at the back of his head, but all he could focus on was that ridiculous nickname.

“Puppy?” The blonde haired woman paused, turning back with a teasing smirk on her pretty face.

“‘Cause yer’ so cute like a puppy, with those puppy dog eyes and pouty frown. Yer’ even smaller than me!” At that point, he had taken note that she was, in fact, a full four inches taller than him. He looked at her with somewhat genuine offense.

“Hey! I’m 5’6! You’re only so much taller because you’re wearing heels!” He pointed towards the pumps that adorned her feet. Harley scoffed and took off her heel for a second, showing both of them that, even without the heels, she was still an inch taller than him. He groaned. This night was just getting worse and worse. First, he’s in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar woman who was taller than him. Hearing Harley’s laugh though, as they walked through the streets arguing about who was really taller, made him feel at least a little better. It wasn’t much, but every little bit counts.

All that eventually led to where Peter was now, laying on a cot in the same homeless shelter that Harley had introduced him to. He had gotten a couple of jobs with the help of Harley’s shadier connections. He had realized early on that this dimension was not the same world that the comics had shown. This was somehow different. There was no one with super powers, though the monikers were still real. Batman was real, but Harley (the only person he trusted up to this point) hadn’t told him anything, and by the fifth time that he asked, he realized he wouldn’t be getting anything out of her so he stopped. He had wondered who Batman was here, and if he and Robin were still partn-

The sound of an alarm pulled him out of his thoughts, and Peter hurriedly grabbed his phone and turned it off. He saw the time and sighed.

“Time to head to work,” he muttered.

-----

“Hey Puppy!” Harley squealed as he entered the club that was now flooding with people, the lighting dim save for a few spotlights that roved over the sea of people. Peter straightened his clothes, a white button down paired with some slacks. They had been the Joker’s but, according to Harley, they didn’t fit him anymore. Peter shivered at the thought of taking something of the Joker’s, but he guessed it couldn’t be helped.

“Harley!” He yelled back in greeting and both walked over the bar. Peter quickly clocked in and set off to work, one of his coworkers behind the counter already. From there, it was quite the busy time, people requesting drinks all over the place. Peter and Harley talked from time to time as he prepared other’s drinks. It was a fairly smooth evening so far.

Of course, as soon as he thought that, trouble had to come, brewing in all its toxicity. When he had first started as a bartender for the club, he had been warned to keep an eye out for suspicious activity, just so the club doesn’t get hit with another lawsuit. Harley was fiddling with her phone in one corner of the bar, and at this point, Peter was used to the loud noise of the club, having inconspicuously stuffed his ears with ear plugs earlier. However, it didn’t completely cancel out the noise as his super hearing still noted everything within his vicinity. In the opposite corner of the bar, away from him and Harley, Peter somehow heard the soft sounds of paper being ripped, a drop of something hitting the water, and a soft fizzing noise.

His head imperceptibly turned to watch as a rather handsome man handed a tall glass of something to a beautiful blonde accompanied by a taller, equally beautiful redhead. ‘Taller than me too,’ he thought bitterly. The blonde accepted the drink as it was slid over to her and was about to lift it when Peter quickly rushed over. He leaned over the counter and subtly pressed a finger down onto the base of the glass, which was widened, using his strength to keep the glass down. He made subtle eye contact with one of the bouncers next to the door, and the man got the message pretty quickly. He started toward the bar while Peter distracted the patrons.

“Sir!” His voice still sounded somewhat soft and high pitched over the bass of the music. “I think there’s someone outside looking for you! You match the description I think!” At the odd look given to him, he continued trying to convince him, “what’s your name?!” The man’s glassy eyes roamed over Peter’s face before answering,

“Trevor!” Peter squinted, trying to sell his lie.

“Last name?!”

“McConnelly!” Peter nodded and waved over the bouncer, who lumbered over.

“Is this the Trevor McConnelly the person outside is looking for?!” A quick once over of Trevor told Peter all he needed to know about him. “Wasn’t it his girlfriend?!” Without question, the bouncer nodded. Trevor suddenly paled and rushed past the bouncer, a man named Gus, who followed him. Peter shot him a thankful look and then turned back to the two women, glancing about them awkwardly.

“Sorry, but I wouldn’t drink this if I were you. He slipped something into it.” The women, shockingly, didn’t look surprised. They only glanced at each other before turning to him with twin smiles, an unheard conversion passing between their eyes that Peter didn’t know how to interpret.

“Thanks for the assist. I really appreciate it,” the blonde purred over the music. Peter could’ve sworn the grin on her face turned sharp for a split second before it flitted away and an almost natural smile came over her face once more. Almost being the key word. A shiver crawled up Peter’s back and the thrum of Spidey Sense became nearly haywire as he stared at the expressions of the two women. They were a lot more dangerous than they appeared.

“I don’t mean to condescend, and I’m sure you’re both able to protect yourselves, but please be careful. No one deserves that to happen to them,” he said as earnestly as possible, using his large brown eyes to his advantage. That seemed to soften at least the red head as her smile started to turn a little bit more gentle. The blonde seemed a bit thrown by his honesty, but quickly recovered, and her smile too seemed a little tender.

“I appreciate it! Not a lot of people can make that statement sound nice!” He gave them a small, genuine smile before turning back to the bar and continuing with other orders. Harley was suddenly gone from her spot, and Peter furrowed his brows. ‘I hope she’s okay,’ he thinks as he starts on another drink for another patron. He quickly shoots a text in between requests and then shuts off his phone. At one point, he’s done with all his requested drinks and takes a bit of a break. He turns around again only to see the two women from earlier still at the bar, conversing quietly. They’re quite perceptive, he notes because the instant his attention turns to them, their attention turns to him and they’re locked in a staring contest. He shyly wanders over to their spots, nearly missing the slight amusement that flashed between both of their eyes.

“What’s your name?” The redhead asks as he nears them. Peter smiles innocently, trying to keep posture loose as his Spidey Sense reacts again. His hands pull at each other, something he can’t help, and something that both women definitely notice.

“I’m Peter. Peter Parker. And you?” He’s as polite as possible. Always be polite to a customer, he remembers his manager saying. The redhead speaks again.

“I’m Barbara Gordon, but my friends call me Babs. You can too.” Peter nodded, his curly down hair bouncing as he did so. The women’s eyes crinkled as they smiled, their expressions now a hundred times more genuine than before.

“Stephanie Brown, Steph. But you can call me ‘Mine,’” the blonde winked with a small and suggestive smile. Peter’s cheeks turned red at this, his pale skin flushing. Barbara and Stephanie could tell too, as they chuckled a bit at his face and Peter turned his head away in embarrassment. When he turns back a few moments later, they’re still laughing, and he pouts a bit. ‘I never know how to respond to those comments,’ he thought. As their laughter subsided, they started asking more questions. With the danger at a small vibration at the back of his mind, he felt like he was in an interrogation.

“Have you worked here long?” Stephanie asked, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck and cleavage. Peter made a huge point to himself to look straight into her eyes or over her shoulder under the guise of watching someone else.

“Not really,” he replied, “Just over a month. I work at The Captain’s Bar too.” Both women perked up in interest.

“Really? We frequent but we’ve never seen you.”

“Well, I work in the mornings and afternoons on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. You guys should come by sometime when I work! It’s quieter then if you guys want to talk!” They smile at him and he feels the vibration of danger slowly slip away until it’s nearly nothing. Peter guesses he won them over.

“Sure thing! We’re free next Wednesday so expect us then!” Peter nods, his fluffy hair bouncing again. Sudden, dual beeps enter his ear canal as he hears both women’s phones go off at the same time. They glance at the texts and curse and Peter suddenly realizes he shouldn’t hear those sounds and he’s staring so he turns away, trying to find interest in something else.

Stephanie talks again, “do you have a napkin and a pen?” He searches around the bar for a pen and he grabs a napkin from the neat stack in the corner. He gives them to her and she quickly writes down two sets of numbers. “These are our numbers! Keep in touch!” With that, they’re gone. Peter takes the napkin delicately into his hand, observing Stephanie’s writing style before pocketing it carefully. He resumes his job, but it’s not five minutes later that he remembers, the thought irking him. Damn pet peeves.

“Fuck,” he curses quietly, “she took the damn pen!”

-----

It was a week later that he encountered Barbara and Stephanie again. In the meanwhile, he was added into a chat between the two women, their conversations ranging from everyday, talking-about-the-weather to absolutely ridiculous. Peter knew not to draw attention to himself but he reasoned that two more friends couldn't hurt. He rather enjoyed having more people to talk to, not that Harley was an unsatisfying friend to be around. Speaking of, he had found that Harley had left because her “puddin’” needed her. When he had called her later that night, concerned, the excuse rushed out of her lips, leaving him less than convinced, but he let it go.

She arrived at the barroom the next day with her usual smile and a bouncing ponytail and everything was back to normal. Eye-Patch came in more often, Peter noticed, leaving more and more hundred dollar bills on the counter. Peter had tried to get him to stop, only to receive a smug smile and a goodbye of ‘sweetheart,’ before he was on his way. He found that Deathstroke, Slade Wilson Peter recalled as his name, was a man of little words, but that didn’t stop him from making small conversation with Peter when he could. Harley thought that he wanted to impress Peter. Peter disagreed completely.

“I think he might be making fun of me.” Harley rolled her eyes.

“Not true. I know guys like him. He’s trying to impress you, Puppy. Don’t doubt me.” Peter, knowing that arguing with her would be fruitless, just shrugged.

“Whatever you say, Harls.”

Wednesday came, and just like they said, Stephanie and Barbara entered The Captain’s Bar near the end of his shift with dazzling smiles on their faces as they shifted the backpacks on their shoulders. Peter greeted them happily.

“Hey Babs! Hey Steph!” They greeted him, waving jovially and walked towards the bar, sitting on seats right in front of him. “How are you guys doing?” Now closer, he had more of a view to observe the two women. They had slight bags under their eyes and their skin was paler than usual. “Are you guys okay? You look tired,” Peter asked with genuine concern. Stephanie leaned forward onto her elbows, which she settled on the counter. Her neck dropped a bit and he could suddenly see the back of her collar, a small, nearly inconspicuous red stain on there. It was freshly made, the texture under the lighting still looking wet. It looked like blood, he realized. With that conclusion, the thrum of danger returned and another shiver was forced down his back. The women noticed.

Stephanie raised her eyebrow, “The question is, are you okay?” Babs’ look was no less concerned. Peter nodded shakily.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. It’s just, you got a little bit of blood on the back of your shirt. Are you hurt? Do you need first aid?” The blonde’s eyes widened a bit before her small hand clutched the back of her collar, Peter still looking at her in worry. Barbara’s jaw clenched and she plastered a fake smile onto her face.

“Steph’s fine, she just had a bit of a rough night. We’re both okay, so you don’t have to worry Peter.” He nodded reluctantly, still worried but content to take them at their word.

“Then what can I get you guys?” They rattled off their drinks and he rushed to make them, vaguely aware of the door opening to let another customer in. It wasn’t until he slid the girls’ drinks over to them did he realize that Slade had walked in. The one eyed man grinned predatorily at him before sitting down at the nearest end of the bar. Peter muttered a “be right back” to Babs and Steph before wandering over to the mercenary.

“Hey Slade.”

“Sweetheart,” the older man rumbled his greeting.

“The usual?” A short nod from the man sent Peter on his way to making an old fashioned drink for him. As he gave the man his requested beverage, Slade pointed over to the two women who were conversing softly with themselves, his one eye narrowed.

“Those two your friends?” Peter glanced at Babs and Steph and looked back at Slade, confused.

“Yeah? I mean we met like a week ago, but I guess you could call us that. Why?” Another body slumped into the chair next to Slade, slurring an order. Slade took that as a distraction for Peter and stood up.

“Because you have interesting taste in people, sweetheart.” He sauntered towards the women, his shoulders drawn tighter than Peter’s ever seen them. He watches Slade interact with the two women, watches their reactions to each other. He notices that, oddly enough, Slade is the one in the submissive position, while Stephanie and Barbara are dominant, despite their dispositions. Slade was stiff, in a combative stance while the other two were completely open, smirking and tilting their heads up at the older man. A hand snapping in front of his face brought Peter out of his thoughts.

“Hey, twink!” The man who slumped next to Slade sneered up at Peter from his position over the counter, “I told you to get me a fuckin’ drink,” he slurred loudly enough to catch the attention of those nearby. Slade, Steph and Babs turn their attention towards them.

“I’m right on it, Mr. Stanley,” Peter said politely, his hands starting to sweat, “can you repeat your order again?” The man squinted up at him for a moment, straightened up in this seat, lifted his hand and slapped Peter straight across the face. Being Spider Man, he saw it coming straight away, but had the forethought to remember not to draw much attention to himself. He tried to make it seem like the hit actually affected him a bit. So he stumbled off to the side, falling down in the process and watched as Slade stormed over to the man and proceeded to punch the drunk, living daylights out of the man. Steph and Babs went to the side of the bar where the small door separating the bar and the rest of the room was and rushed over to Peter, helping to straighten him up.

“You good Petey?” Babs voice was soft as if afraid he would spook like a cornered animal. He nodded distractedly, focusing on Slade who was now shaking the drunk man. He was knocked out instantly by the punch. He pushed himself up, looking at the other two who stood up with him. Slade noticed movement in his peripheral vision, his gaze snapping over to Peter in an instant.

“You okay, sweetheart?” The look of Peter’s reddened cheek made Slade clench his teeth.

“I’m fine, Slade,” he replied before pointing at the man that was limp in the mercenary’s arms, “let him go.” Slade blinked and looked at the man, sneering and releasing him, letting him hit the floor with a loud thump.

“With pleasure,” he smirked as Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 'Typical Slade,' Peter thought. Only God knows how many fights that man gets into.

“Just,” Peter leaned over the counter and took note of the unconscious male, his eye well on its way to swelling to the size of a golf ball, “wait here while I go get my manager.” The brown haired boy sighed in suffering as he headed toward the back of the bar to get his manager who would no doubt fire him soon for this.

‘Fucking Parker Luck,’ he thought bitterly.

Unawares to Peter, Stephanie and Barbara joined Slade in watching over the knocked out patron, looking down at him as if he were scum underneath their shoes. Stephanie glanced at Slade, who, even though he wasn’t looking at her, knew that she required his attention. Fully aware that he was listening, Steph said,

“I assume that you won’t struggle to say yes to this mission?” He knew exactly what she was talking about.

“No problems here, blondie. I’ll even take this case pro bono if I get first shot at him.” Slade grinned at the blonde, a ruthless intent behind his expression. Steph, who mirrored this, then turned to Babs to gage her reaction.

“Count me in,” she murmured, her tone soft but firm. She was quite disgusted by the display that negatively affected their new favorite bartender, “but you do know Dick and Tim are gonna want to know why we’re doing this.” Slade stilled at the mention of his ex, and whether or not the two women noticed it, they didn’t comment. Instead, Steph hummed.

“That may be, but I think they’ll quite like Petey.” The blonde sent Babs a knowing smirk, which Babs rolled her eyes at. Secretly, however, she agreed with her friend.

‘Yeah,’ she thought as Peter came back out, his fluffy brown hair bouncing with every step and his doe brown eyes wide, ‘they’ll definitely like him. A lot.’

Previous: Synopsis 

Next: Part 2 

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Royal We ch.5

Summary: Finally the concluding chapter of 'The Royal We'! Wonder what's gonna happen here, hmmmm.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

Edge woke far later than normal to the sound of the shower running. He jerked halfway upright in the bed, briefly disoriented, before the events of the day before came back to him in a rush. The baby shower planning, the discussion with Stretch about having children, or rather not having them, Janice’s son getting lost, and learning that Stretch’s abilities as a Judge allowed him see Monster souls, including his own.

Small wonder he’d overslept, Any one of those things would be tiring but put together it was entirely too much for a single day, particularly one where he and Stretch finally came upstairs in the wee hours of the morning, barely taking the time to shed their clothes before flopping together into their bed.

At least Stretch seemed to be somewhat recovered if he were up to taking a shower. Edge sank back against the mattress, kicking the blankets from his feet as he stretched with joint-popping bliss, luxuriating in a moment of uncommon laziness. As stressful as the day before had been it had also been cathartic in some ways, certain issues clouded between him and Stretch discussed then cleared away.

This morning his leg felt fine even without the brace, without even a trace of a pain. It was actually healing as the doctor promised it would, despite Edge’s occasional loose interpretation of their directions, and as time passed it would keep getting better until the injury was only a memory and an occasional ache on very cold days.

Getting back to normal, that was all. The term ‘normal’ when it came to their lives was certainly up for creative interpretation, but it honestly felt like they were getting to it. Of course, that was dependent on nothing new cropping up in their lives and it surely would. It didn’t matter, whatever came he and Stretch would face it together.

Thinking of togetherness, Edge rolled out of bed and made his way to the ensuite bathroom. Muffled strains of music were coming through the closed door and when he opened it, it poured out, bright and pop-cheerful. Behind the shower curtain, oblivious to his audience, Stretch was singing along. He’d always have a lovely singing voice, husky sweet and pitch perfect but it was the lyrics gave Edge a pause.

“i’d get down on my knees, i’d do anything for you…ohhhh, i don’t want anybody else, when i think about you, i touch myself…”

Well, that was an invitation if he’d ever heard one.

Edge only took long enough to strip of his pajamas, casting them off in a rare messy pile on the floor before sliding around the shower curtain. He was ready for Stretch to yelp and jump, catching him before he could slip on the wet porcelain. His lovely bones were slick with water and soap and he was blinking through the spray, his pale eye lights still bright from the surprise.

“holy shit, babe,” Stretch sputtered, licking water from his teeth. “a little warning would be nice!”

Edge only shifted Stretch in his arms, settling him with his spine pressed firmly against Edge’s chest. At his silent urging, Stretch let his head drop back against Edge’s shoulder, huffing a groan as Edge murmured against his skull. “And miss the chance to sweep you off your feet?”

“you can get in your gropes without giving me a—oooh,” Stretch broke off and Edge smirked, mouthing lightly at his scapula as his hands wandered lower, his bare fingers seeking out places he knew were sensitive, pressing and stroking until Stretch shivered in his arms despite the heat of the water pouring down on them.

“What was that?” Edge crooned. “I couldn’t quite hear.”

“baaaaaabe,” Stretch moaned. He squirmed, his pelvis scraping tantalizingly against Edge’s. “this isn’t fair.”

“No? I was only trying to confirm the truth of your statement,” and before Stretch could ask, “Do you, then? Touch yourself when you think about me?”

“heh.” That squirm turned into a deliberate grind and Edge caught his breath, “want a demonstration?”

As it turned out, by the time Stretch was finished ‘demonstrating’, they both needed another shower and Edge was never more pleased to have splurged on their hot water heater. The chance to hold Stretch in his arms for longer without any chilly surprises was well worth the extra cost.

~~*~~

It was a few hours later that Edge was finishing buttoning his shirt, giving his husband a sideways look where he was still sprawled out on the bed, entirely naked except for a single sock that was still sagging at the ankle. The other was in his hand, waiting for its owner to either work up the energy to put it on or to abandoned it to its lonely fate.

Tipping the scales in favor of wearing might be in order. “Are you planning on putting that sock on or do you need longer to bond?”

“i’ll put it on as soon as i can feel my feet,” Stretch sighed out dreamily, “babe, you sure know how to make an entrance.”

“In a variety of ways,” Edge said serenely. “I do well with entrances.” He sat on the side of the bed next to Stretch and leaned in to give him a lingering kiss before snatching up the sweatshirt beside him and dropping it on his head. “Come on, get dressed, we need to check on the chickens. I believe there may have been an event we missed.”

Stretch lurched upright, fighting his way out of the clinging folds of the sweatshirt to give Edge a stricken look, “fuck, i forgot!” The sweatshirt was only half on when he started for the door and he was still struggling to pull it over his skull when he made for the stairs.

“Pants!” Edge shouted after him. Their neighbors asked so little of them and he really didn’t think that no unexpected nudity was an unreasonable request.

A shout floated back up, “bring ‘em with you and i’ll get the coffee going!”

Edge only shook his head and retrieved a clean pair of track pants from their dresser. However this might end, at least it would be with a reasonable amount of dignity.

Well, that might be a tall ask of Stretch and if he couldn’t be clothed in dignity, pants would have to do, so long as it wasn’t the bare minimum.

Edge stifled his grin and headed for the stairs, pants in hand and ready to share that particular witticism with his husband. Anytime was a good time for pun to Stretch, but over morning coffee held a certain brewtiful appeal.

It was with puns exchanged (among them was Stretch declaration that so many jokes this early was a latte to handle) and coffee in hand that they finally made their way to the chicken coop to investigate yesterday’s happenings. The morning air was still tinged cool, only hinting at the afternoon’s predicted warmth and Stretch shuffled through the fallen leaves to the coop door where Noodle and Dumpling were already waiting impatiently for the bringer of their breakfast.

“yeah, sorry, gals,” Stretch set his coffee cup down outside the coop before opening the door. He leaned over to give them each a brief pat before heading to the feed trough. “i know, we’re running late. let’s get you fed before checking on your sis, okay?”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes too far up,” Edge cautioned. He set his cup alongside Stretch's and followed him inside. “I can’t even calculate the odds of her not only finding a fertilized egg but also managing to hatch it.” Her finding an egg at all was a question that Edge already decided not to look into too deeply.

“i can calculate it and trust me, it’s a lot of decimal points. don’t worry,” Stretch said as he measured out a scoopful of feed. “i won’t. not even sure i wanna meet whatever’s supposed to come out of the cryptid egg she stole. hope nugget isn’t too disappointed when her basilisk doesn’t hatch.”

The sound of feed pouring into the trough was enough to summon the smallest of their wayward poultry. Nugget poked her small head through the coop’s door flap, chirring inquisitively, and then darting out to beeline right for the feed. Hungry indeed, she didn’t detour even briefly in Edge’s direction, intent on her pursuit of tasty grains.

But it wasn’t Nugget that had their attention. Behind her, coming from the coop was a faint sound, a peeping reminiscent of those Edge heard on the farm back when he was considering whether to invest in chickens of their own. Stretch only stood frozen, staring at the coop door and Edge was the one who finally opened it and stepped inside.

They’d persuaded Nugget to abandon the plastic bucket she’d nested in for one of the coop boxes, lining it with soft hay and that was where the sound was coming from. The single caged bulb overhead didn’t provide much light and Edge peered into the darkened nest, his sockets narrowed. Nearly buried into the hay was a tiny ball of yellow fluff. Edge reached for it, scooping it cautiously into his hands and bringing it out into the light.

Stretch hovered over his shoulder anxiously, “is that…what is it?”

From the rounded cup of his hands, a tiny, billed head poked out. Webbed feet shifted against his palm as the little creature peeped anxiously, its eyes dark against the bright yellow fluff.

“it’s a duckling! holy shit!” Stretch managed to keep his delight to a muted squeal, reaching out with cautiously grabby hands. Very carefully, Edge deposited it into his hands, watching as the little bird settled against the warm bones. “this is way better than a basilisk!”

“I believe the neighbors will agree,” Edge said dryly, watching as Stretch very gently inspected their newest acquisition, petting that feathery softness. “Is it male or female?”

Stretch rolled his eye lights. “welp, all the years i spent studying physics instead of zoology are letting us down here, babe. i’ve barely got ‘duck’ cleared, if you want a more detailed report, you’re gonna have to hire a pro.”

“Understood,” Edge said. He looked out the door at their backyard, freshly layered in falling leaves. “What on earth are we going to do with a duck?”

Stretch only held the little duckling closer to his chest with a gasp, “we can’t get rid of it!”

“Of course not,” Edge said, exasperated, “I’m not suggesting we drop it off at the local livestock orphanage, it was a legitimate question. We’ll need to make arrangements for it, ducks may have different nutritional needs than chickens. It will need some sort of pond to swim in and—” He broke off as Stretch gave him a look. “What?”

That gentle smile matched the softness in Stretch’s eye lights as they briefly flashed into hearts, shining with love, “nothing, babe. you’re really gonna let me keep cheese?”

Edge blinked. “Did you just call that duckling ‘Cheese’?”

“yeah.” Stretch grinned. “short for cheese and quackers.”

“Oh, for—” Edge sighed. “I walked right into that one.”

“headfirst,” Stretch agreed. “don’t feel bad, i left the door wide open.” At that moment Nugget came wandering back into the coop and started to make concerned motherly noises. Stretch hastily set the duckling, no, Cheese back into the nesting box. Nugget hopped up into it, squirming back to bury her child beneath the bulk of her feathery warmth.

“guess introductions are over.” Lacking a tiny duckling to hold, Stretch settled for flinging his arms around Edge and giving him a hard squeeze. “c’mon, hot coffee waits for no fowl and cold coffee is foul, so let’s get ours.”

“You’re an endless font of hilarity, love.” Edge followed him out and the two of them retrieved their cups. By unspoken agreement, they settled to sit at the patio, sipping their coffee as the trees rustled softly around them.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence, and Edge checked it to see a text from Papyrus. Ah, another loose end from yesterday’s tapestry to tie up. He opened the text to find not a jumbled of excited words but a picture. Of Undyne in a hospital bed, looking both weary and elated, Alphys at her side, but it was the small bundle in their arms that drew Edge’s gaze.

The only thing visible from the swaddling of striped blankets was the child’s face, the same deep blue skin tone as their mother and a small tuft of red fronds falling over their forehead. Childbirth seemed to have left a certain squashed quality to that face that hadn’t had time yet to fade, puffy cheeks and swollen eyes, and as Edge studied the picture another text came through.

It’s a girl!

A girl, a little niece to spoil and teach, and Edge could already picture her toddling along and joining the other children as they followed Stretch around very much like ducklings as he taught them science and experiments, spending his weekends building snowmen and painting excited faces. Without making any undue assumptions, Edge could imagine the formidable child that Undyne and Papyrus’s genes would produce and the adventures that might come of it, the coming years would certainly be interesting and—

“is that the baby?”

Almost, Edge twitched his phone away before Stretch could see the picture. But none of yesterday's upset or melancholy appeared, Stretch only looked at it with an appropriate expression of interest, smiling widely.

“aww, what a cutey,” Stretch cooed. “tell undyne she does good work.”

“I will,” Edge agreed, and did so. Before he set his phone aside, another picture came through, this time with Papyrus holding the baby, the very vision of a delighted uncle and why his arm was in a sling, Edge decided not to ask. The story of Undyne’s labor and delivery was likely an epic one and not to be heard before plenty of coffee. He was nearly ready for a second cup when Stretch spoke again.

“so,” Stretch began. He shuffled his feet against the porch, his coffee cup held tightly in both hands. “you wanna get started on the pond today?”

Edge smiled faintly. “Of course, love, best to get it ready before Cheese needs it.”

He watched as Stretch lit up, equally delighted by his answer and his ready use of Stretch’s chosen name. It was hardly more ridiculous than Noodle, Nugget, and Dumpling, and besides, their baby deserved the best, too, did it not?

A pond and some research into their little duckling’s needs, that was the challenge for the day and Edge was more than up for it, so long as Stretch was by his side.

Edge set his cup on the table and reached over to take Stretch’s hand in his, slender fingers tangling with his own. He ran his thumb over Stretch’s wedding band, the smooth metal body-warm. Together, no matter what, and Edge was ready for that adventure as well and any that came along with it, for the rest of his life.

Even when it included unexpected additions.

-finis

[theinariakuma]

A Touch of the Flu

Triggers: Death

Ikevamp

Mozart x MC

Rated: T+

Prompt: Influenza

She hadn’t been feeling well in recent times. It started with a headache, a touch of a sore throat, and minor fatigue. It wasn’t uncommon, she went from a life of travel to be a maid, so there were still some growing pains, she supposed. That along with the stress of everything that happened in her first month and the growing cold. 

They’d gotten stuck out in the rain after one of his events. 

“Come along, meine liebe.” Mozart’s voice was calm. He knew she did not care for the storms in this era. The lightning strikes terrified his little lamb. 

The rain was pouring, heavy and hard, like the night he’d realized he loved her. The night he nearly bit her.

“O-okay.” Her fingers slipped into his grip, his skin warm compared to the cold biting air that came with the needles of icy rain. He’d pulled his coat up over her head, but it truly offered no real protection from the cold. 

The duo ran for some shelter from the cold, finding an inn. Violet colored eyes narrowing in frustration at the sight of so many people, wet and cold from the rain. At the first sight of her shivering Mozart spoke, “I have you, meine liebe.” His voice was low as he drew her closer to him, stroking up and down her arms and back in an attempt to warm her up. The spring had turned icy rather quickly, he would not be surprised if they got snow soon.

“Monsieur, you can bring her by the fire until we can get you checked in.” An older woman called, seeing the couple. She stepped from behind the counter, leaving a lanky boy to handle checking in so she could coax the drenched woman towards the fire. With so many people soaked to the bone, it was the best she could do. 

“M-merci.” Her voice was soft, and the woman’s features warmed at the girl’s polite nature, patting the younger woman’s shoulder before she hurried back to her son to help to check-in people. 

She’d still caught a cold from that night and Mozart spent the rest of his time tending to her, trying to help her feel better. 

“Remember to take it easy,” Sebastian spoke as he noticed her movements still sluggish. “I’m only letting you work because you said you were well enough to.” He chided her lightly. The high fever that had plagued her calmed down after several days. 

Her sore throat affected her the most in the mornings and usually after a cup of hot tea it went away. The persistent cough and fatigue annoyed her, but it had been a bit of an excuse for her not to go shopping in the town, and an excuse for Mozart to not take any performances for a while. 

“I’m fine, Wolf.” She sighed a bit, however, a smile graced her features as he placed a cool hand on her cheek. The frown on his face and his knitted brows showed his worry for her. She knew he was getting more offers, and some of them were insistent. 

“Hartnäckige Mädchen.” He scolded, “Stubborn, stubborn girl. You still feel warm.” Her lips curled into a loving smile as he fussed. He was always such a mother hen when it came to her. When they returned from the theater he had fussed over her as well. “You’re still coughing too.”

“My coughs usually linger after a cold. I’m okay.” She placed her hand over his. “Sebastian is making sure I only have a light load for work, and he’s even making sure to bring me tea just in case.”

He sighed and gathered her in his arms, hugging her close. “If you get worse, you need to tell me.” Comte had a doctor visit already. Some medicine was given and she’d actively taken it despite her finding it disgusting. 

Something churned in the pit of his stomach and told him something was wrong. “Alright, lamb.” His lips pressed to the crown of her head, trying to ignore that feeling.

---

Breathing was difficult, recently. When she breathed in too deeply, it caused pain in her chest and sometimes her back, and it worried her. She’d contacted the doctor, and she didn’t want to worry anyone more than she should, so she kept it between herself, Sebastian, and Comte during one of the days Mozart was out. 

She wasn’t going to hide it, she just didn’t want to worry him more. The doctor said it was sometimes normal. Just keep taking her medicine, she’d be fine. If her fever spiked back up, then she’d need to go to the hospital. 

When Mozart returned from his trip to see the lord that had been trying to hire him again, Comte’s friend, he’d been frustrated she’d done all of that without him. 

“Liebe, you need to tell me these things.” He stressed the words. “I wouldn’t have gone if I knew.” Sebastian had been firm, sending her to bed and making her some more tea. Fingers ran through her hair. 

She was tucked against his chest, half curled into him. Exhaustion set on her features. “I didn’t want to worry you more than you already have been. I hate seeing you so worried, Wolf.” Her fingers were cold to the touch and it only worried him more as he drew the blanket up around her. 

“Let me worry about you. That is my job.” His lips pressed to her forehead. “Try to rest. Take a nap and I’ll pack you a bag, I’m taking you to that hospital.” He hated that place with a passion, but he knew she needed to go. A short nap and she’d go. 

“I love you, Wolf.” Eyes still so bright and beautiful despite their exhaustion just melted his soul. 

“And I love you, little Lamb.” He weakly teased, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “Sleep.” He demanded. 

And she’d dozed off so easily. 

---

He’d been gone an hour. Speaking to Sebastian and Comte, a carriage is set up for him to take her to the hospital. 

The moment he was in the room, his heart felt like it stopped. It was too quiet. Her breathing was always light, heavier since she got sick, but now even that didn’t fill the air. 

“The Carriage is-- Herr Mozart?” Sebastain saw the pianist staring into the bedroom, hand braced on the frame. 

“She’s not making a sound.”

“She’s likely just sleeping well. Do you--.”

It was too soon. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She was so young, so free. This couldn’t be happening. His chest was hammering, it was taking everything to not panic.

“Sebastian.” Eyes were full of pain, “She’s not making any noise. I cannot hear her breathing.” The one thing about his time as a musician was that he noticed the subtle changes in pitches and tones. He knew the difference between a silent room, and one that wasn’t. 

Sebastian had been the one to grab the man as his legs gave out and sobs left him. No longer able to hold himself together. 

She was gone. His love, his life was gone before he could save her.

---

The light was too bright, the air felt thick. 

“Hello little one.” Fingers cupped a cheek. “You’ve been gone for far too long.” Eyes were hollow and fingers brushed hair back from an angelic face. “You want to go back, don’t you?”

“Go back?” The words were empty for a moment, unfocused. Talking hurt, had her illness gotten so bad during that nap. “I’m… not home?” 

The affectionate caress to her cheek made her stomach churn, he was not her Wolf. But as he caressed her cheek, the memories came flooding back. 

A coughing fit that woke her. It hurt to try and catch air. It felt like when she swallowed water wrong and weighed so heavily on her chest. She tried to call out to him… To her Wolf… but her voice wouldn’t work. 

All she could think of was how hurt he would be if something happened to her. That she didn’t want him to hurt.

"Such terrible things a virus can do to the human body." 

"You're the one… that brought Napoleon back… and the other…" Her mind was fuzzy, she remembered the gun, the lies, but his name and face escaped her. 

"Yes, yes." His grip seized her chin, forcing her unfocused eyes on him. “Napoleon was… an unfortunate outlier in my plan. You, however, are so important.”

Comté, She needed to find him… had to…

"We just need to seal your contract and your transition is complete and I won't make you do anything. You'll be able to go see your lovely little Wolf." He mocked. He sounded like a child with a new game, a new piece to his game.

This man wanted to one up Comté yet again. "You won't tell anyone my name. No one is allowed to know how you were returned to Life. You won't tell anyone how to find me." His voice was light as she tried to pull her face from his grip. 

The smooth accent reminded her of Arthur, deeper however, darker. Something about it scared her. 

Thirst made her fingers claw at her throat, suddenly and desperately parched. 

"In return. I'll give you your freedom to see your beloved Mozart. You just need to do something for me. When you get back, you must tell Comté that I said 'Checkmate'. Do you agree?" 

"Yes… please. I'm…"

He didn't let her finish as a bottle was placed to her lips and tilted up. Desperately she began swallowing, trails of crimson flowing over her chin and the fingers holding her head in place. The wet droplets hitting the floor as the sweet flavors with the bitter aftertaste calmed her sudden thirst. 

After the relief of the liquid soothing the thirst came the disgust that this man had so easily… She never wanted to see him again. 

When the bottle was empty he set it aside, taking his kerchief to clean her face off. "Door is behind you little mouse. Run before we decide to keep you." 

It was at that very moment she realized there were more people in the room than she originally thought. 

She was uneasy on her feet, her dress was soft and new. Someone had dressed her… or was this a dress she was buried in?

The door opened, the lights outside were more blinding than inside, however she didn't hesitate in running out the door. 

---

France was busy and beautiful and overwhelming. Her mind was in a tizzy and her senses were overstimulated by everything going on. She could smell the scent of food and blood, hear chattering of people and animals. 

When she crashed into someone, her arms were held firmly. Not in anger, but when she looked up, blonde hair and soft eyes gazed at her. 

"Vincent…?"

Tears pricked at her eyes, he was covered in the smell of his favorite oil paints. The same paints she used to go to get with him. 

Arms seized her in a hug, holding her so tightly she worried she'd break, but she realized she didn't care. "You're alive." He breathed out. 

"How?" Theo's voice cut her off before she could speak. 

She went to open her mouth to reply, but a tightness held it. "It is… part of the contract. I am.."

"Theo. Stop." Vincent spoke to his younger brother. "Let's go. We want you to come home."

Theo was ready to argue, but the look from Vincent silenced him. This was not the time. Not the place.

They'd all missed her, Mozart the most. Finding out how and why would come later.

---

Things had changed. More faces than before. 

"It has been five years since you were here." Vincent helped her from the carriage. “Mozart is still here. He’s… changed a bit.” He was quicker to anger, and Vincent wanted her to be somewhat ready. Internally he hoped that she’d sooth that anger.

Leading her up the gardens, violets in full bloom, much like the one she planted when she first arrived. 

"Monsieur--" When Sebastian turned around, he went silent before striding across the path to the girl. Fingers cupping her face, "You're...but… a contract?" Shock and awe in his features and the barest hit of tears glistened in his eyes. His friend had returned.  

A tiny nod was all it took. "Take her up to him. I'm going to get Comté." 

The familiar room was where the Van Gogh brothers left her. When she gently opened the door a voice snapped, harsh and sharp. "I told you I did not want any, Sebastian. Stop your incessant--"

"Wolf…" 

Silence filled the air, thick with tension. Every second he didn't reply was another wave of terror and pain weighing on her heart. 

She knew what her regret was. She'd remembered it on the carriage ride. 

She didn't want to leave him. She regretted not loving him more, not being with him more. That there had not been enough time.

"Meine Liebe…?" When he turned around from the piano bench, he saw her… just as beautiful as the day he lost her. 

Feet could not carry him fast enough as he crossed the room. "You're alive?" Hands roamed her sides, her arms, before ending at her face, cupping her cheeks, gazing into her eyes as he couldn't stop tears. His hands were trembling and worn, he’d been using them more than just on his piano. 

For five years, he felt shame for not being there when she passed. He should have made her go to the hospital sooner. Made her rest more. If he had not taken her along to that event, she would never have gotten sick. For five years, he blamed himself. 

Lips pressed to hers, pain and love shown through the kiss. Passionate and warm and he loved her so much. 

"I'm never letting you go again, lamb. I…"

"Shhh…" Her fingers reached up, soft and warm against his cheek. "I'm not leaving you again… never, my Wolf." Her fingers traced his face, seeing how tired he looked. “It wasn’t your fault, Wolfgang.” Her voice was tender, and it made him pull her closer. 

"You're here." Comté breathed out as he and Sebastian rushed to the music room. 

Her body went stiff, "Yes…" Her voice was soft, weak. "He… had something for me to tell you as part of the contract." She hadn't wanted the contract with the man. "He said… 'Checkmate'." Her eyes were looking to the pure blood vampire, not leaving Mozart's arms.

The look of anger that passed Comté's eyes worried her for only a moment before he went to stroke her hair. "Thank you, ma chérie. Please enjoy being home. Everything… this is your home, and anything I can do to help you, I will. But we'll talk about that more another time. Please, enjoy the rest of your day. I am sure you saw the gardens. It is the perfect time of day to take a walk."

She nodded and glanced up to Mozart. The same angry look Comté had was on his face. "Can we…? For a little while at least? I liked the fresh air."

Lips dropped to her forehead, "Of course.” Mozart may have been angry his beloved was disturbed from her rest, but part of him was so happy she’d been returned to him. The reason why would come later. He was not going to ignore the gift that was her revival. 

This came because I saw that antibiotics had not been discovered for roughly 30-ish years after the placement of the IkeVamp settings. This was the fic that came from that and my idle and loose research about things that happened around that time.