#it's so much easier to put up your hair with one pin than fight with a hair tie

[dlasta]

I found twenty of my long hairpins in our couch while fixing the thing. Twenty. That's almost fifty inches of hairpin. :)

[readychilledwine]

Can I please request 5 for Cassian?

Cassian x Vanserra Reader drabble

Prompt #5 from the super amazing romance prompt list from @urfriendlywriter

Prompt 5 - "You lied to me. Was I just a pawn in your game? The easiest one you can sacrifice?"

"If you love him, you'll walk away to protect him," Eris said plainly. "Father would kill him just for being Illyrian. Imagine what he'd do to him for being your mate and having touched you."

Tears were falling freely as you nodded from your spot on the couch in his room. "I could leave."

Eris shook his head. "You and I both know you're his favorite little chess piece. Father will chase you and hunt you down slaughtering anyone protecting you until you are dragged back home kicking and screaming."

-

You didn't know how to end this without Cassian fighting. So, you did something that would destroy every ounce of trust between you two.

You sighed as you waited, pretending to copy enrollment numbers, names, troop sizes from the Night Court. Cassian was coming tonight. You would leave them out "hidden" from his view, let him find them, and then stand there taking every ounce of anger, betrayal, and abuse that came your way.

For his protection.

You reminded yourself why you were doing this. It was for him.

You set up the evidence. Wiping the last of the lingering tears from your cheeks before sighing.

To save him.

To save him from the same fate Jesminda suffered.

The faint sound of wings breaking air made you straighten your dress, fix your hair, and put on the mask you needed to hide the inner turmoil your soul was going through.

Cassian opened the door, a smile lighting the room, as he immediately came to you, cupping your face in two hands and kissing you deeply. "Missed you, princess."

"Missed you more," you answered honestly. "Whiskey?"

He nodded. "Please."

You went into another room, pretending to grab the glass and the bottle, take a little longer than needed. "Y/n, come here," and the pin dropped.

You walked out, bottle in hand. "Is something wrong?"

Cassian held up the papers, his eyes full of confusion and setting in rage. "What the fuck is this?"

You began the act. "Reports you left here."

"Reports you were copying for what purpose, Vanserra?"

The first knife in your chest. He'd never referred to you by that name, knowing how much you hated your father.

"I'm not copying them," you half lied smoothly. In truth, you planned on burning them.

Cassian scoffed. Throwing your handwritten papers into the fire of the hearth. "Don't fucking lie to me when the evidence was right there. Why?"

"You have your job, I have mine," another knife in your chest.

"Is that what I am to you?!" Cassian stormed over to you, slamming his hands on the table. "You think I'm a fucking job?"

You're everything to me, your mind said. You hid the screaming of your aching soul and heart behind a mask of indifference. "Say something," he demanded. "Say. Something."

You shook your head. "There's no point."

"Everyone is pawn in Autumn, Cassian. The sooner you learn where you sit on the chess board, the easier life will be." Your voice was distant.

"You told me you loved me. That you wanted to marry me, and now you've done this." His face dropped completely as he studied you, "You lied to me. Was I just a pawn in your game? The easiest one you can sacrifice?" He saw the brief flash of heartache in your eyes. A small moment of pain before you hid behind a mask.

Realization hit him at your mistake. "You're pushing me away," Cassian realized slowly. "Who found out, princess. Tell me who found out, and I will have Rhys wipe them."

"Pretty sure that would be against the bargain the two of them swore to each other." Cassian's face fell. "I'm a pawn in these games too, Cassian. Leave while you can."

He shook his head, knowing this would go nowhere right now, knowing when you pull the string and back away. He grabbed the reports. "Just tell me if anyone else saw them."

"No one else did," you said slowly. "Just go, Cassian. Make this easier for both of us."

He paused at the doorway. "I won't stop fighting for you," he stated firmly. "I'll never stop fighting for you."

"Then we both become Beron's pawns," you were looking into the fire, arms crossed over your chest.

"All tyrants lose their place, princess, and when he loses his. I'm coming back for you."

[scribblestatic]

Okay, we are so back on my amputee!SY train.

Also, for Cai Minyue, which you'll read below, it's spelled and pronounced 蔡 珉月 (Cài Mínyuè).

Prev: Part 4

---

The day of the crowning ceremony is one most of the remaining wives had come to expect. Sure, none of them were going to be empress, but honestly? Good for Shen Yuan. As much as the man called himself lazy, they knew of people with limbs substantially less dedicated to ecological maintenance, foreign diplomacy, and proper record-keeping.

Sure, he'd had to have a servant write for him at first, but he very much preferred writing through qi control, especially since, once he got the hang of it, he was much faster at getting his own words on paper. And boy does he have a lot to say.

His efficiency at the position aside, he also genuinely loves Luo Binghe.

In lieu of hands, he'll press his forehead against Luo Binghe's when he suspects that the latter's qi is unsettled. Although Binghe acts like he's an open book, Shen Yuan picks up on his moods easier, even the minute things. He's also very, very indulgent of him, but nobody's perfect.

But, perhaps it's that indulgence that has helped Binghe heal into the better person he's becoming.

Fantastic. Good for them, honestly.

Though, that didn't mean Shen Yuan wasn't, somehow, inexplicably still unsure as to why Luo Binghe wanted to make him empress despite having been married to him for several months by this point.

"He could do better," he insists as the servants dry his hair.

"Like, on the chance I really am Shen Jiu somehow, this really isn't something I deserve—" he pauses, voice wavering slightly as the Sha Hualing huffs at him to be still and puts the liner more cleanly around his eyes.

"Seriously, he has you and Liu Mingyan and Ning Yingying and Cai Minyue—"

"Are you complimenting the Little Palace Mistress right now?" Liu Mingyan asks, pinning his hair crown in place.

"She's rough around the edges, yes, but she's not a bad person."

"She hates you, though," Sha Hualing reminds him.

"And that's fair! If I expected to become empress at some point since he grew his empire on the remains of Huan Hua Palace, only to have my husband do some spells on his abusive shizun, marry him, then make him empress when he'd been imprisoned in the Water Prison for the crimes said shizun did against said husband, I'd hate me, too!"

At Sha Hualing's sigh and roll of her eyes, Liu Mingyan leaned from behind him toward his left side, where his remaining eye was.

"Do you love Binghe?"

"Of course I do," he says easily.

"And you trust him to make his own decisions?"

"Yes, he's a grown demon emperor. But—"

"And you trust that he loves you?"

"I...well..." He glances away, his thin face already starting to redden. "I don't get why, but—"

"But you trust that he loves you, yes?"

A simple but elegant fan rises up from the nearby table and opens in front of his face, hiding his nose and mouth from view.

"...Yes."

"Then, that's all the reason needed for him to make you his empress, is it not?"

"Well...it's just..." He starts fanning himself. "...from a political standpoint—"

"You can just say you're nervous, idiot," Sha Hualing snarls heatlessly, pinning another flower near his crown.

He keeps complaining and trying to reason with why he shouldn't be empress despite being perfectly suitable and wanted for the position, but it's not like he actually fights the process. By this point, the remaining wives closest to him knows he avoids and extrapolates and spins his own mind in place, but his actions often say more than his words do.

More than once, he's huffed and griped at them without any harmful intent. He's called Binghe "shameless" while allowing him to do as he pleased. Whenever the demon emperor would call him "wife," he'd huff and hide his face behind his fan and say "Who's your wife?" while turning away, only to lean in when his husband went to kiss him.

He only really said "No" when he truly thought or meant it, giving weak and petulant excuses when he seemed to not want to verbally agree in an almost coquettish display. And, when flustered, he rarely gave his agreement in simple language. If one didn't read between the lines, they could call him a hot-and-cold sort of spouse, but anyone who knew his language could tell he was almost always, unfathomably, full of warmth.

Even on quiet days—when his qi feels jagged and he seems overstimulated by the smallest things, strung tight and unfocused, his words coming out with more bite than intended—he was still warm underneath it.

Sha Hualing and Liu Mingyan watched as that warmth faltered upon the interruption of Cang Qiong Sect, their qi rolling and swords unsheathed as they protested his crowning, arriving right before it was set to add to the one already in his hair as a representation of his elevating status.

Yue Qingyuan's immense qi bowled some of the guards over, guests falling to their knees with others scrambling to get out of the way. Several other peak lords were also in attendance. Liu Mingyan's eyes narrowed upon seeing her shifu, Qi Qingqi giving her a look like a betrayed mother.

"Luo Binghe, you have long gone too far!" the sect leader bellowed, his voice commanding attention.

But Binghe himself just smiled, his eyes crinkling despite the light not reaching them.

"My, Sect Leader Yue. If this lord recalls, he did not invite you to this occasion. In fact, I explicitly remember banning you and the rest of Cang Qiong Sect from attendance."

"Shen Qingqiu was a member of our sect and your shizun. Yet, after debasing him to such a degree, you dare make a mockery of him in this manner? Your idea of just punishment has strayed too far. Cease this humiliation immediately!"

"This lord doesn't understand what you mean by 'humiliation.' I am not so wasteful as to pay such attention and money for an empress crowning ceremony as a paltry joke."

"So you intend to make a mind-broken man the empress to your throne? Hah. It seems you truly are more of a blasphemous fool than even I expected," Qi Qingqi said, her eyes ablaze.

As the two groups continued fighting, Liu Mingyan looked to Shen Yuan, who was mysteriously quiet, his shoulders hunched. From the way he was turned, seated to face Luo Binghe as he placed the crown in his hair, his blind side was to the sect now proclaiming their grievances in his stead.

Yu Qingyuan's pressure increased, and Luo Binghe spread his qi to match. The air churned and coiled with it, some guests having fainted while others hid beneath their seats and nearby tables or other such places. The ones who could somewhat withstand it armed themselves against the sect members, considering most attendees were demonic in nature. That said, the ones more sensitive to qi were looking pale and ill.

"Binghe."

Immediately, Luo Binghe reined in his pressure, turning toward Shen Yuan, adoration plain in his eyes. As though the others weren't there, he returned to his side and got to his knee before him as he often did so Shen Yuan did not have to crane his neck to look up at him.

Whatever look was on his face caused Binghe's expression to sour with concern.

"Yes, this lord is here."

A moment, then Shen Yuan sat up, his shoulders lowering as he straightened his posture. A fan laid still on Shen Yuan's lap. Liu Mingyan could almost imagine how he'd be sitting: his hands politely still, legs tucked slightly under the chair.

The very image of an ethereal, untouchable immortal.

"Our guests are suffering. Perhaps we should have this discussion elsewhere."

"But, your crowning..."

"It can wait until tomorrow. It can't be helped as it is."

"...If it's what you wish."

"Thank you."

Binghe's smile returned, though it was one of his softer, more genuine ones.

"You need not thank me, my beloved."

He lightly held Shen Yuan's chin, and he kissed his forehead, right where his huadian dyed his skin red. Some of the sect members choked in outrage, and Yue Qingyuan's pressure strengthened even further.

"Sect Leader Yue, restrain yourself," Luo Binghe called out. "You invade my palace and harm my guests by throwing your weight around. Have you no shame as a righteous cultivator?"

"You—"

"My beloved requests your acquiescence."

"You dare to call him as such after what you sent to me... After what you've done to him—"

The fan on Shen Yuan's lap raised up, opening slowly before snapping shut. The sound echoed in the area, powered by qi. After all, as the former Qing Jing Peak lord, the arts, and sound, were something he studied immensely, if he was indeed some incarnation of Shen Jiu.

"Yue Qingyuan, cease."

And, as though flipping a switch, the sect leader's qi calmed, pulling back in as though he never let it out. Though, perhaps it was less out of obedience toward him and more out of shock for the irritation in his voice. After all, he sounded...quite sane.

Shen Yuan turned toward them, finally looking at them with his eye, the fan opening back as it hid the lower half of his face. From Liu Mingyan's angle, she could see the unhappy frown on his balmed and lightly painted lips.

"...It seems you wish to protest."

"What?" Qi Qingqi murmured.

"If you want to do so, we can at an appropriate setting. However, here is not it. We've invited these people here for a celebration, not to be harmed."

Wei Qingwei looked firmly at Shen Yuan, likely thinking him possessed by some spirit...and wouldn't he be able to tell? If only Hong Jing could leave the mountain. Maybe Shen Yuan's confusion could also be resolved. Meanwhile, the murmurs and whispers from the sect were already referring to him as brainwashed and incapable of making judgements.

Luo Binghe quickly silenced the whispers by calling out orders, directing servants to tend to their crowning guests as the meeting would occur in the court hall.

Binghe shot a look toward Liu Mingyan, and she nodded back, leaving to find two people they needed for this.

Well...she hoped it wouldn't happen, as did Luo Binghe to a certain extent. However, since the sect did indeed come, they might as well use what they'd prepared.

---

It clicked to Shen Yuan as he was set in his seat beside Binghe's throne that, perhaps, this was all something that Binghe planned.

The court hall was already prepared, and the curtains hanging from the walls were more luxurious than usual. Maybe he could've put it off as simple decorating changes, but there was a nagging feeling in his gut that this had been carefully staged. Not in a fake or false sense, but in a sense that it had been carefully prepared.

He looked up toward Binghe as he placed him on the cushion, his husband carefully settling his clothes before gazing at him with dark eyes full of a profound regard that made him almost feel like crying.

"Hmm?"

Shen Yuan opened his fan, floating it in front of his face as he turned away.

"Nothing."

When his eye slid back over to Binghe's face, he saw the demon emperor's grin as he leaned in and kissed him on his cheek. If his fan lowered to allow him to do so, no it didn't.

"My A-Yuan is so magnanimous. Don't worry, we will certainly have you crowned by tomorrow, if not tonight."

"Who's telling you to rush, ah? Sit, Binghe. People are entering."

The chuckle that rumbled low in Binghe's chest thrummed in his own. After the demon emperor placed one more kiss on his cheek, this time closer to his ear—despite knowing they had become more sensitive since his other senses were muted, you menace—he sat on his throne and, once their guests settled, directed that the sect be allowed to enter.

The doors opened, and they were allowed to enter, but Shen Yuan found it difficult to keep looking at them.

The memory—dream—of them standing in the central crowd overlapped with the current situation. Though, they were a bit displaced. Back then, in the dream, he'd been lower down, bound in immortal binding cables and forced to kneel on knees he no longer had, coughing from continued exposure with the acidic air of the lowest depths of the Water Prison.

This time, though, outside of the dream, he was sitting on a throne of his own. One soon to be completely his in an official sense.

Yue Qingyuan sent him an imploring look, as though he hadn't failed to show up for him again.

...Why hadn't he showed up for him? The book never explained it. Hell, it never explained why Shen Qingqiu had hated Luo Binghe, nor had it explained why Shen Qingqiu felt so betrayed and snappy toward Yue Qingyuan. So many blasted plot holes.

At least now, through the dreams, he was able to get some context.

But Yue Qingyuan was always there, wasn't he? And Shen Qingqiu...he'd definitely asked why he didn't come save him. Yue Qingyuan would always just give him that same, imploring, apologetic look.

He was beginning to understand why the original goods had been so disgusted by it. Having it directed at him now felt similarly irritating.

"Now that we've uprooted our plans for these righteous cultivators, this lord would love to hear why you all have come to a crowning you were not invited to," Binghe sneered, seeming to also dislike the look Yue Qingyuan was sending him.

Or, well, maybe he had a personal reason to dislike him...

Ah. That was very possible, wasn't it? After all, he despised Qing Jing Peak, but he hated Cang Qiong entirely, with some sort of incident having interrupted his plans to raze it to the ground.

Yue Qingyuan, as the sect leader and someone personally involved in his life, had to have known what Shen Qingqiu was doing to Luo Binghe. And he did nothing.

Hmm.

"—to defile your shizun in this manner. We already gave you justice during his trial years back. What more do you want from him?"

"To become my empress, clearly," Binghe humored.

Many in the witnessing crowd laughed, while others tried to conceal their discomfort, perhaps swayed by whatever Yue Qingyuan said. Or maybe they'd always felt a bit uncomfortable about the idea of him as empress. Who knew?

"If we're to speak of justice, then Cang Qiong should consider their judgement overdue... And Shen Qingqiu's justice long ignored."

Eh?

Wait, Binghe, what's this??

"As uninvited as you all are, this lord is grateful for your impudence. Before the crowning of my empress, shall we have a retrial?"

Ehhh??

----

Binghe: Trap card activated.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5: here Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 11+: links on Part 10

AO3

[cuteskunkz]

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.Good Morning Princess ₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

~Part 2~

(Dom!Mike Schmidt x Sub!Reader)

~Summary: Mike comes home after a long day and needs to blow off some steam. Continuation of part one!!!

~Tags: Pet names, degradation, praise, breeding kink, daddy kink, brat taming, gawk gawk 3000, penetrative sex, afab!reader

Note: This is pretty much porn LMFAO!! Read part one for the full story.... or not if you're horny no judgement ;) Just a reminded that I am brand spankin new to writing fanfic so apologies if it's mid. Pls lemme know if you're interested in more, my amas are always open to ideas <333

⊱✿⊰

Mike grabs your face with one hand. This causes you to pout at him and furrow your brows. "Don't make me cuff you again" Mike says playfully. You take it as a challenge, deciding to be the biggest brat possible. You knew how much Mike loved taming you, it was like a newfound hobby for him. At one point your attitude was so much he had to throw you over his shoulder and carry you to the bedroom to teach you better manners.

"Or what? I can handle some stupid pair of cuffs" you say while staring at Mikes baby pink lips. He pins you to the bed. His strength is impressive, you couldn't fight him off even if you tried. The guy definitely takes his push ups seriously. You start wiggling underneath him knowing this will piss him off more. His hands only grip tighter around your wrists, further restraining you. "You're so fuckin needy- do you know that?" he growls. You face away from him suddenly feeling bashful.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." You lock eyes with Mike, your mouth slightly agape. You take notice of his light brown freckles and it's like your heart skips a beat. "Good girl. Now get on your knees" he directs. He loosens his grip on you and stands next to the bed waiting for you to follow his order. "Nah I think I'll stay riiiiight here. You know Mike- your bed is soooo comfy I couldn't possibly eveeerrrr get u-" he grabs your throat and pulls upward forcing you to stand and make your way off the bed. Your tiny fingers attempt to pry him off but it's no use. "Im gonna fuck your mouth until your dumb little brain is empty. How does that sound hm?"

That's all it took for you to turn back into his subservient toy. "Anything for you sir". You lower yourself down onto your knees and stick your tongue out. Mike had you basically trained to take position for times like these. He taps his cock on your tongue a few times allowing you to mentally prepare for his length before roughly thrusting into your throat at a decent pace. "It's like you were made for me. God you're so pretty sucking on me like that. Thank daddy for stuffing his cock in your mouth." He pulls back slightly leaving his member resting just barely on your lips. "Thank you daddy" you reply. "Thank you for what? Use your big girl words"

"Thank you for f-fucking my throat." He smiles, "There we go. Good girl". He thrusts back into your mouth and pumps even faster than before. Guess your words really motivated him or something. Mike takes your hair into both his hands and forces you deeper. The sounds of you sputtering and gagging on him push him closer to his climax. You stare up at him with tears rolling down your blushing cheeks. You'd pay any price to stay in this state of pure bliss. "You look so beautiful when you're cockdrunk, princess. I know it's a lot but you're doing so well... j-just a little longer I promise"

Mike pulls out of your mouth leaving spit strings attaching you to him. He grips your sides and picks you up, laying you down on the edge of his bed. You instinctively rest your legs on his chest anytime you're put into the missionary position as it allows him to hit your more sensitive areas easier. He began lining up his length to your throbbing cunt, causing butterflies in your stomach. "You still with me?". You couldn't focus anymore but to nod in confirmation. A low groan left his lips as he slid into you. Slowly but surely you stretched to fit all of him.

"You're all mine princess- ALL fucking mine." Mike pounds deeply into you, using your hips as a handle to move you onto him like his personal fuck toy. The sounds of your pussy around him as well as your high pitched moans were so intoxicating to Mike. You were his favorite pastime activity. "I'm gonna pump so much cum into your sweet little pussy baby. Gonna fill you" he says while wrapping one hand around your throat. Just the thought of him finishing in you made you feel like a feral animal in heat.

Your climax sneaks up on you. You uncontrollably tremble on Mike while babbling what sounds like his name over and over again. Maybe if you were coherent it would be more obvious. "That's it, keep it up little fuck bunny. I love it when your tight pussy drools for me". You felt so overstimulated, bucking and rolling around but his hands pin you once more until he can finish. You felt so small and weak under his control.

He bottoms out in you. You can feel his rhythm getting sloppier, signifying his closeness. "Oh fuck b...baby I'm gon....gonna-" he whimpers. His head falls back while his fingernails dig into your hips. You're filled to the brim with his cum, some of it leaking out around him. For a second it's silent (beside the sound of both of you catching your breath that is). He slowly pulls out, careful not to spill any of his seed out of you. Mike slips his middle finger into you to push it deeper leaving you feeling deliciously full. 

You lay there with your eyes closed unable to wipe the grin off your face. "If this is what happens when I mouth off to him I definitely gotta do it more often" you think to yourself. You distractedly replay the series of events that just happened in your head. You hate to say it but you definitely tuned Mike out for a bit to recall everything correctly. "Hello? You there? Did I kill you? Oh no!! My poor baby!!" he teases, pretending to cry. "What will I ever do!!" He throws himself on top of you like a damsel in distress, pretty much crushing you. "Mikey I swear to god I will punch you" you chuckle. "You do that and I'll tell Abby you threw away her favorite crayons." You pull the blanket right below your eyes pretending to be scared, "Hey man I was just playing around- you'll actually get me killed like that."

⊱✿⊰

This is the final part of Good Morning Princess <3 I hope you guys enjoyed as much as I have!! It was so much fun writing this and I can't wait to keep creating. That being said if y'all have ideas please send them in, i'm pretty busy but Im on here daily. Thanks for reading!!!

[l0serloki]

Thief

Hanzo x Reader

You work as a thief for a company. You're tasked with the job to steal from the Shimada Empire. It's much easier said than done...

CW : SMUT, f!reader, master kink, a bit of overstim, praise kink (good girl)

A/N : also isn't my divider cool. I have such a cool best friend (like rly cool) everyone say thank u to @froggibus

masterlist

You were a thief but not stupid. As soon as you got the job request to steal from the Shimadas you started to rethink your career path. You weren’t worried about the grunts protecting the place. But Hanzo.. That would be an issue.

“I just don’t think it’s reasonable putting me up to a task like that.” You shrug to your employer and he narrows his eyes.

“So you can’t do it?” His nasally voice was like nails on a chalkboard and the backhanded insult was not helping.

“I’m sure I could but with Hanzo-“ You were quickly interrupted by the greasy man.

“Then why are you complaining?” 

You could feel yourself growing tired of his interjections and stood up. There was no point in turning it down, it would just result in you losing your job.

“Fine.” You scoffed as you walked out of the office. You just had to get two stupid papers and you would be done.

—

Easier said than achieved. You had been on the Shimada premises for only ten minutes and you had grown weary. You had taken out the two main bodyguards and made it into Hanzo’s office without much of a fight. It didn’t seem correct.

“You know I don’t tolerate thieves.” A voice came out of the silence and the hairs on your neck stood up. You knew it.

“Well I just want money.” You whisper out as you turn your head to the side. There he stood, adjusting his watch with those calculating eyes. You had to admit that even though he struck fear into you.. He was pretty attractive.

“Money? And what would you do if I asked you to work for me?” Hanzo approached you, his body hovering right behind. Your brain short circuited.

Work for.. him?

“You..”

“Finish your sentences, sneaky one.” Hanzo chided and you could feel his breath against your ear. How could you possibly finish your sentences with him pushing up against you like that?!

“How much?” Your eyes watched as his hand slipped the papers from yours. His thumb rubbed over the scars before placing it down on the desk.

“More than your employer. And I’m sure you would enjoy working for me more.” He practically mewled into your ear. You tried your best to deny what your body was telling you. You had to be smart about this. Then again, you were pinned to his desk, caught trying to steal. There wasn’t much of a choice unless you wanted to die.

“Okay.” You whisper out and without a second thought the man spins you around. His hands smash onto either side of you. His eyes feel as though they’re piercing into your soul as he takes you in.

“Mm. Good. Now why don’t I teach you a lesson about stealing from your new master?” His finger trails over your lip as he pushes his muscled thigh between your legs. You can feel yourself throb at the friction and any fight you might’ve had went out the window.

“Yes sir.” You relent and Hanzo only chuckles. His hands move under your top, pushing away the fabric.

“Smart thing. You will do good.” 

His praises go straight to your core as his fingers make their way up to your chest. His thumb swipes over your nipple as he watches your body jolt. 

“Hanzo-“ You choked out only to be met with a harsh slap to the thigh.

“Master.” He corrected you and shook his head. His mouth moved in, circling around your chest. All you could do was sit there and take it, enjoying the pleasure he gave you. His hand moved lower as he began to take off your pants. His eyes watched you for any complaints as he stripped you, taking in the sight of your nude form.

“So wet.” He hums as his finger suddenly delves between your folds. You let out a shocked moan as he moves the same digit to his lips, licking away at the slick. 

“Master please.” You give in as you throb for more friction, or even for him to finally take off those slacks. He just chuckles as he moves his fingers back down to your cunt.

“Patience pet. Let me see how tight you are before I stuff you full.” He whispers as a thick finger lodges its way inside you. You throw your head back as he slowly moves around, watching your reactions. 

“So good..” You whimper out as you feel yourself twitch. He only hums in approval as he pulls his digit out and licks it.

“You’re ready.” He says as he shuffles his pants down half way, his hard cock slapping against his stomach. Your mouth waters as you watch the smidge of precum dribble down the angry red tip. You never had wanted a man this bad.

You didn’t even have to beg, he moved his shaft through your folds. His cockhead teased your hole, testing the waters. Your body tensed as you waited for him to slip in. 

“Relax. It’s going to feel good.” He soothes, his hand rubbing down your hip as he slowly begins to sink into you. Your eyes fall shut as you try to adjust to him. His arms hold you close as he feels your body tensing around him, grunts leaving his mouth.

“If you don’t ease up I’ll finish too soon.” His finger finds your clit, rubbing soft circles against it. You feel yourself shake at the pressure as he starts to thrust in and out. He’s incredibly gentle at first. As if he’s worried you’re going to wilt away. 

“Master, more..” You plead and Hanzo seems to get the idea. He amps up his pace, his thrusts getting more and more sloppy. You feel the familiar clench in your stomach as you get closer and closer.

“Be good and cum for Master.” Hanzo all but moans out as he feels you tighten around him. Your mind breaks as you feel yourself creaming against his cock. You can only grip onto him as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

“S’ too much Master..!” You cry out as he continues and your only response is a slap to the thigh.

“Just a few more seconds.” He drills on, continuing to chase his high.

True to his words, not even twenty seconds later he pulls out, letting his seed paint your lower stomach. Hot breaths fill the void as you both try to calm down.

“So I work for you now?” You whisper out and he guffaws.

“Do you need another lesson, pet?”

[figgrrr0]

Could request ruining Tartaglia’s orgasm? I know he’s always written as a huge dom but like what I wouldn’t give to wipe that smug look off his face lol. I just think he’d be such a fun sub, yk he’d be so bratty and whiny. Afab reader with she/her it doesn’t real let matter if it’s foreplay or the main course-

No cause out of all the characters I could possibly think of, Tartaglia is the BIGGEST switch. He absolutely has the most versatility.

I did a headcanon/scenario type thing, but if you want an actual one-shot I'd be happy to try! I just did a bit of everything for you. (Also i didnt notice until it was finished but I didn't really mention the actual acts, so it turned out as GN)

I love this boy sm omg

Bratty Tartaglia headcanons

Reader: Dom!Gn // Genre: Smut

Cw: overstim, edging, bondage, ruined orgasms, dumbification, mentioned blowjob, almost dacryphilia

Tartaglia would be such a brat, almost at all times. He would have trouble picking up on when you just didn't want to deal with his attitude and attempts to fight back. Because of this, he'd get punishments so often that they just became your usual sex routine... it's a good thing he's a huge masochist.

Since I view him as a switch, he'd try to take control halfway during his sub sessions annoyingly often (it's rarely a serious effort, he just likes being put in his place by you). Bondage likely becomes a tactic that you have to rely on with Tartaglia for this exact reason.

If you're giving him a blowjob, he'll sneak his hand into your hair and try pushing you down at the pace he wants, which is usually faster than what is comfortable for your throat. If you're riding him, he'll flip you over as soon as either you or him cum, right when you least expect it... of course, you'd figure out his game after the first few times he does it, so tying his hands together or to the bedframe make keeping his behaviour in check so much easier. Leaving him completely open and at your mercy, no choice but to take anything you give him, and no way to chase the pleasure when you decide to take it away... it gives him goosebumps when he thinks about it, always slightly nervous when you pull out the ropes at the beginning of the night, never knowing what you have planned for him.

I don't think Tartaglia would have a preference between overstim and denial, but of course his reaction to each one is different, especially when ruined orgasms are brought into the play as well. He can take as much overstim or edging as you can dish out, rarely begging you to slow down or go easier on him (unless it's one of those times when he's in a softer mindset - when all he wants is to feel you against him, and to know that regardless of who is in charge in the moment, it will all stop the moment he needs it to). But, he can also go too far, overestimate himself and what he can take, to the point that he becomes completely dumb on you, begging for more even when he can't take it, when he can barely feel anything other than the pain anymore.

With edging, he's all groans and panting breaths. Lips bitten and bleeding, hands clenched, he chases the pleasure that was ripped away just as his torturous orgasm tears through him. His hips buck up sporadically into the air, even as your insistent hands try to keep him pinned down. His eyes are tightly shut as he lets out a choked, stuttered moan as the broken pleasure dissolves, cum pooling on his abdomen, before he lets out a huff of disappointment and his body relaxes into the bed.

However, with overstimulation, he's loud and energetic. Squirming and shuddering, moaning and whimpering, he can't help but push himself further into your touch, even as his body stutters away from the overbearing pleasure. When he cums this time, you pull yourself away from his needy cock, all red and leaking in his desperation to feel more and more of you, even as his aching bones beg for a rest. He cries out when the heat of your body leaves, his eyes flying open with unshed tears blinding his vision in an attempt to seek you out, the cold air settling over his sweat-coated body making his orgasm all that much more uncomfortable and dissatisfying.

But no matter what state he's in by the end of it all, he'll still manage to somehow rake up enough energy to push out some teasing remarks. Even if you're tired and done for the night, ready to take care of him and show him the love you'd neglected him of for the past couple hours of "punishment", he'd rather complain and taunt you, implying that you weren't strong enough to hold out with him for longer. As if you were the one who needed the rest from your rough activities, and not him.

After pushing you and demeaning you for a couple of minutes, you really have no choice other than to start all over again. Putting him in his place and giving him exactly what he'd been demanding from you, even after it all becomes far too much for him to take. He'd wanted it in the first place, after all.

He just doesn't know when to quit.

Want to send a request/brainrot with me? Check my rules!

Thank you for reading! 🩷

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Dislocated Shoulder Whump

Warnings: dislocated shoulder, intense pain, careless/annoyed carewhumper

Heehee here's a short scene where Shadow gets to be a grumpy, reluctant carewhumper when Thomas accidentally dislocates his shoulder during a fight. How inconvenient for Shadow to be forced to help! 😂

Poor Thomas, he never catches a break.

It was too late for Thomas to dodge the soldier rushing toward him. The soldier was making a mad dash for the exit he was standing in front of, and that was the problem: he was standing in front of it.

Thomas tried to scramble out of the way, but was a hair too slow. The soldier was too desperate to escape, and couldn't care less about the human of an object in his path. He charged right through him, accidently clipping him in the shoulder on the way out, hard enough that it sent Thomas slamming into the wall behind him.

As soon as he hit the wall, there was a sickening pop, followed by a zing of sharp pain that ran through his whole right arm, and then he suddenly couldn't move it anymore.

Thomas crumpled to the floor with a gasp as pain radiated throughout his entire arm and shoulder, quickly spreading across his chest. It was an intense, overwhelming agony that overtook him, and he gritted his teeth against it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could Shadow moving nimbly around as she took down the last few soldiers in the room, before she leaned down to pick up her dagger and sheath it again. He could only hope she'd be able to help him out of whatever he'd just gotten himself into. But it hurt... so... much...

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

*Switching to Shadow POV*

Shadow heard the cry of pain, but was too busy fighting to spare the source a glance. Only when she had knocked the last man out did she look over to see Thomas twitching on the floor in pain, one shoulder sticking out at an unnatural angle.

"I… I can't move my arm!" He exclaimed, panicking. "Am I dying? I'm dying, aren't I?!"

Shadow walked over and loomed over him with arms crossed over her chest and rolled her eyes at what she thought to be his over-dramatization, before remembering that Thomas had never experienced a serious injury of any kind before, and it made her understand why he would be so terrified. From his perspective, it must literally feel like he was dying. She could hear his heart racing faster than a rabbit's with adrenaline.

She kneeled next to him with an unhurried sigh and tentatively touched his shoulder, feeling around the muscles to get an idea of how bad the dislocation was. Thomas yelped in pain, and instinctively tried to jerk away, but Shadow put her knee over his stomach and leaned her weight onto him to keep him pinned down.

"Mmhmm, that's definitely a bad one," she said in absent observation after a few moments. Shadow knew how to relocate the joint, but first needed Thomas to stop panicking. She needed his muscles to relax a little to make it easier for the joint to pop back into place... and his hyperventilating was only exacerbating the whole situation.

"Good grief, you're not dying! Pull yourself together," she snapped, exasperated. She could tell that Thomas was on the brink of passing out because of the fast, shallow breaths he was taking, which was causing the carbon dioxide in his blood to drop too low. She let out a weary sigh and put a firm hand on his chest.

"Look at me, listen to my voice. You need to calm down. Slow your breathing, okay? Take a deep breath, and let it out slowly," she instructed sternly, trying to sound reassuring, which certainly wasn't her strong suit.

"Focus on filling your lungs up as full as you can, and then let it all out, and relax. Release the tension. I'm right here to help you, kid. You don't have to keep panicking."

There was something oddly comforting about her words, even though "comforting" was probably the last thing Thomas would use to describe Shadow. Regardless, he tried to focus on her gruff voice, gradually slowing his breathing down increment by increment, feeling his racing heartbeat finally start to calm.

"Good. Now I'm going to put your shoulder back in place, all right? It’s guaranteed to hurt like crazy, but bear with me. Are you ready?" Shadow said, looming over him. She took his wrist in one hand and placed the other near his shoulder.

Thomas nodded weakly, bracing himself.

Shadow gave him a countdown. "Three, two, zero--" In a single sharp, swift motion, she suddenly jerked his arm straight forward, and a loud pop followed as the shoulder joint slid back into place.

It was cruel of her to surprise him with a fake countdown, Thomas distantly thought. He let out a strangled shriek, and had to bite his tongue hard to avoid screaming in agony.

Then, he felt gentle waves of magic flow through his arm, repairing damaged ligament and muscle tissue. It took the edge off his pain, lessening it to a dull throb. One of the many perks of having someone like Shadow as an ally. He finally let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, relief flooding him.

"See? That wasn't so bad, now, was it?" Shadow smirked knowingly. She put an arm under his back and helped him slowly sit up, before effortlessly pulling him to his feet with surprising strength.

"Let's get out of here before anyone sees us, shall we?"

"Shadow... Thank you. Seriously," Thomas croaked gratefully, gently trying out his newly healed shoulder with a wince. He looked at the floor sheepishly.

Shadow shifted her weight uncomfortably at his sincere gratitude.

"Let's... just try not to ever do that again, all right?" She said tensely.

Masterlist #1 - all of my whump stories

Masterlist #2 - all stories specifically involving my OCs Shadow and Thomas

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

Tidbit Tuesdays: Sometimes Sylus Deserves to Get Punched

....in sparring. Usually.

Tidbit Tuesdays is where I share little bits from my WIPs or pieces that I'm particularly proud of. In this case, it's mostly just funny segments where Sylus spars with Kit (or AUs where she hates him) with a surprise extra!

Obviously warnings for blood and violence.

If you liked this, it would be wonderful if you could leave a like or reblog. It lets me know that people like what I'm doing, and encourages me to keep writing!

Side note, I think because Sylus is so tall, he's occasionally thrown off by fighting people who are also tall. It doesn't happen often, but Kit's 5'11, sooooo.

Notes:

First up is AU where Kit is the MC. There's another tidbit further down that you'll see that mirrors this one, and it's because this one is the best parts of that...thing condensed and changed into something else. Sometimes when you write, you just have to Frankenstein it into a different piece entirely.

⭐

This kitten is vicious.

Her foot crashes into his cheek, swift and unrelenting.

It's been long enough since he's fought someone who's almost his height that he's nearly thrown off by it.

Sylus whips around, using his evol in an attempt to pin her down.

“Cheap,” she snarls. “Having to resort to your stupid red shit.”

He scoffs, spitting blood. The injury is already beginning to heal. “I'm merely using the tools at my disposal.”

She writhes violently, her eyes gleaming with a feral light.

The twins are off in the distance, the shouts of their prey quickly being cut off.

“Hold still or this will hurt.” His warning only causes her to fight harder, and Sylus sighs.

His evol tightens, making her face him.

The bright flare of his eye is reflected in hers, and she looks confused. Pain lances through her face.

The blade whips out almost faster than he can predict it, slicing into his cheek.

“Is that how you treat your host?” He asks, and she tenses as the cut heals. “It looks like you really don't remember anything."

⭐

Notes: This is an fake/pretend marriage WIP that I really should get back to. I pulled it up for this post and remembered how much I loved it. Not much to say here except researching sparring/self defense is fun.

Edit: I looked further, this is one of my first Kit/Sylus fics before I'd nailed down personalities! How cute! I always thought Kieran was the chatty one...

-

A week later, Luke and Kieran appeared during their daily sparring match.

“We have presents!”

Sylus looked up from putting Kit in a headlock, his hold tight as she writhed and scrabbled at his wrist.

“Oh?” He glanced back down. “Kit, we talked about this. Wedge your hands and chin, step under and away.”

“It would be easier if I just bit you,” she grunted, yanking forcefully out of his grip. Sylus went to grab her hair, dragging her back towards him, and she used the momentum to slam her head into his gut, making him cough.

One stomp on the instep later, and she'd whirled a short distance away, panting heavily.

Sylus nodded. “Good. You're getting better.” He glanced towards the twins, gesturing them over. “What is it?”

Kieran handed him two tiny boxes, and he smirked. “Good. Kit, come here.”

She trotted over, wiping her face with a towel.

“Hold out your hand, sweetie.” Sylus opened one of the boxes, slipping something onto her ring finger.

She glanced down and her eyes widened. “Boss-”

“Sylus. You were doing so well. You're going to have to get into practice for this mission.” He arched a brow. “Unless you want them to think we have a different sort of relationship.”

Blushing violently, Kit corrected herself. “Sylus. Right. I didn't…I didn't actually expect you to get it.” She looked up at him, confused, completely unaware that the twins were fixated on this exchange. “It's just for a single mission. It doesn't- “ she swallowed hard. “It doesn't mean anything.”

Sylus hummed, considering his response. “You liked it,” he said simply. “Kieran and Luke are easy to please, but you're allergic to any sort of gifts. Unless they're weapons, of course. Consider it a sign of my appreciation for your service. It's yours to keep.”

Kit felt her heart stutter, her skin heating. The weight of something so small felt so odd, the ruby shimmering in the gym lights like a particular glint she knew so well.

She cleared her throat shakily. “Thank you, Bo- Sylus. It's beautiful.”

He gave her a strangely tender look, accompanied by an odd smile. “Of course. You never ask for anything. It's my pleasure. Now, it's your turn.” He held out the other box.

She shot him a confused look, opening it.

Inside was a heavy rose gold band, subtle geometric shapes patterning its surface. She gasped as she noticed the most dazzling element- a strip of amethyst inlaid in the middle.

Sylus chuckled. “Well? Are you going to do the honors?” He held out his hand.

Kit pulled the ring out gingerly, ignoring Kieran’s snickering.

“I'm pretty sure if she blushes anymore she'll turn into a tomato,” he whispered to Luke.

Luke elbowed his twin sharply and shushed him.

It was strangely simple, the act of sliding a ring on Sylus's finger. His hand was warm and sturdy, the rough calluses of his skin scratching against hers in a way that made her involuntarily shiver.

Kit glanced up to see Sylus smiling. “There we go,” he murmured. “Easy as could be.”

Her lips parted in surprise. Why were his ears turning pink?

⭐

Notes: This one is pretty damn suggestive. Which is the reason I never posted it, because it's borderline NSFW. It's mostly inspired by the very first scene where MC is hunting for the brooch and Sylus is just. In a towel. I imagine when you're that close to the boss, you're bound to get an eyeful at some point.

Notes:

-

“Come in.”

Kit walked into the bedroom, looking around. “Boss…?”

A glass door clicked open, steam billowing into the room. Sylus poked his head out, his skin flushed from the heat. “Here, Kit. Report. How did it go?”

She froze in place, eyes wide. A few droplets of water slid down the column of his neck, dipping into his collarbone and caressing the line of muscles as it trickled down, towards his-

Kit turned scarlet and immediately whipped around, making a strangled sound as she pressed her palms to her face.

A warm, loud chuckle sounded from behind her. “Oh, come on. Our little assassin is afraid of a little nudity? I'm sure you've killed people in worse conditions, sweetie.”

“Usually I wait until I can't see their dick,” she hissed sharply.

He snickered. “Perhaps not as expert an assassin as I thought, if that's all that stops you.”

Kit whipped around, lunging at him with blade in hand, pressing it to the slick skin of his neck. He simply tilted his chin up, glancing down at her.

“Just because I'm inexperienced in some matters doesn't mean I won't push through for the job,” she growled at him.

Sylus quirked a brow at her. The heat and humidity coming off of him pressed against her thin houseclothes, and she quickly became aware of how close certain parts of him were to her.

“Wow,” he commented. “I've never seen someone turn into a tomato in real time before.” In a flash, the blade clattered to the ground, and he pinned her up against the glass barrier that separated the bathroom from the bedroom.

Kit felt her heart rate spike as his damp skin came into full contact with her, his hands sliding up to entwine his fingers with hers.

She could feel her thin shirt growing wet, the water droplets on his skin turning the white fabric translucent in places.

His face was too close to hers, his breath warming her face as he spoke. “It's my bedroom, kitten. You should be prepared for what you're likely to see when you walk in, next time.”

⭐

Notes: Ah, the misunderstandings fic. Also our bonus OC for this post. Depending on when I decide to post it (or the ADHD kicks in and I forgot I put this here, because I schedule these) you may see the WIP as an actual fic posted before this one comes out. Anyway, Kiri, being the actual MC, genuinely doesn't like Sylus because she's best friends with Kit. Go figure. Kiri will always be a Zayne girlie, and more power to her.

-

Sylus catches the fist before it hits him.

Cold, steely blue eyes glare sharply at him, and he's impressed by the sheer extent of the rage on Kiri’s face.

“If you've hurt her,” Kiri snarls.

He doesn't give her the chance to continue. “Our spat will have to wait, honey,” he bites out, sickly sweet. “I have to go resolve a misunderstanding.”

A hard boot slams into his shin, and he grunts in pain. Sylus flicks his fingers and launches her gently out the bedroom doors. They swing open on his command. “Get out. I'm not in the mood to play.”

“She's my fucking friend, asshole!” Kiri snaps back. “What the hell are you doing to her? Why did she look so…so…”

“Heartbroken?” He supplies. His voice is quiet as he walks past, not bothering to help her up. “I'm sure you're smart enough to figure that out.”

Kiri surges to her feet, following after him. “You were the one who insisted we resonate!”

“And it didn't work,” he calls over his shoulder. Two people walk out into the hallway, see Sylus, and immediately duck back into whatever room they came from. He ignores them, continuing. “We'll have to find another way.”

She stiffens. “If hand-holding was your first method, the next one better not be-”

“Don't flatter yourself. There's only one woman I want, and right now she's filled her head with all sorts of ideas. Stay here.” As she opens her mouth to protest, red mist gathers around her, depositing her neatly into the twins outstretched arms.

“Sylus!” Kiri yells. He's already gone.

⭐

Not every fic gets abandoned because I was procrastinating or didn't feel like finishing it. Sometimes, like this one, it's because I recognized that it would be relatively incomprehensive to most people. In any case, assassin AU (Kit's already an assassin, that's not the AU part) where she accidentally gets MC's memories for some reason.

That's why they're in bold vs hers in italics. As I said, incomprehensive.

-

She is standing with her hands wrapped around a blade, covered in blood. Not her memories, but somehow they are.

Red mist slams her against a wall, and she coughs, the air forced from her lungs. She fights wildly against the bindings as the man stalks forward. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows that he's bare of any clothing, but survival is forefront.

She has to kill him. Stab him.

Right through the heart.

Right through the heart.

She is present, and memories that aren't hers drag at her consciousness, forcing her back under, like sirens at sea pulling a sailor down to his doom.

“This is a surprise,” he purrs. That voice is achingly familiar, but she can't afford to dwell on it. It's her or him. “You did well to get this far, kitten.”

“Seven?” The red eyed demon says, unimpressed. “That's not a name. That's a number. I'll call you Kitty. You hiss and spit like one.”

“You can't just ask for someone's name and decide you don't like it!” She snaps back. “I'm not going by that!”

He smirks. “You'll learn to respond to it if you want my help. A thing doesn't need assistance. A person, on the other hand, can beg for it.”

Kit snarls, swinging a leg out. She manages to clip him across the jaw.

He touches the cut left behind, smearing blood, and it fades away like dust.

Horror sinks in her gut like a rock. Bridget was right. She should have never taken this mission.

The red mist tightens around her throat, and she feels tears prick at the corner of her eyes, her head going floaty as she struggles to breathe.

“A waste of your talents,” he says evenly. “If you want to hurt me, you'll have to try harder than that.”

The man steps closer, and Kit seizes her opportunity. She grabs a blade from her boot and slams it through his bare chest.

It wounds her more than it does him, a feedback loop that rips through her mind with a piercing whining scream.

She is holding a blade, and hands wrap around hers. Are they claws? Fingers? She can't be sure. Despair and terror slam through her, leaving her breathless.

“You must press on.” The voice is pained, struggling.

“No,” Kit gasps. She's crying now, she knows it. Something throbs in her chest, like her heart is slamming against the prison bars of her ribcage, trying to get out.

The man - Sylus - scoffs. “What's wrong, cold feet? The little assassin can't stomach killing a man?” He grabs her hand, wrapped around the blade, and forces it in more. “Try harder.”

She recoils, even as spots begin to dance at the edge of her vision. “Sylus, stop!” Kit cries out. “Please, not like this!”

He flinches. “What did you just-”

It's too late, though. She used the last of her air to yell, and everything goes black.

= later in the same fic =

Sylus, on the other hand, is quiet. He meets her gaze dead-on, searching for something in her expression. For what, she doesn't know.

Kit already prepares herself for what's to come, letting herself go numb. Assassins like her do not survive.

“You're not going to tell me anything.” He states. He seems almost…impressed, despite himself. There's an understanding there, like recognizing like in this awful world they occupy.

Kit drains the cup, setting it on the side table next to the bed. She turns to face him. “The only thing I'll give you is that I'm a professional. And if you're any good, you know what that means.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “This will hurt.” Oddly, it feels like a warning.

She braces herself.

A large hand grasps her chin, forcing her to maintain eye contact with him.

“What are you-” his eye glows, cutting her off.

It is the most unpleasant sensation. Like ants crawling through her mind, skittering across her thoughts and scratching at the insides of her ears.

She shrieks and fights him, but his grip is too strong. Every time her nails rake across his wrist, trying to force him away, the scratches heal instantaneously.

It feels like he's forced his fingers inside her skull and cracked it open to examine the blackened insides.

The smell of blood and fire fills her senses, leaving her nose burning from the inside, and she screams, feeling copper spatter on her tongue.

In the awful, bloody end, it's Hector who brings her back.

The sharp memory of him gripping her hair and hissing, “Endure or die.”

Kit brings her knee up and slams Sylus in the jaw, forcing his mouth shut with an awful click, and slots herself back against the very corner of the bed, pressed up against the wall.

He spits blood onto the floor and gazes at her sidelong.

“Come work for me,” Sylus says bluntly. “Ever is a dead man’s game.”

Kit stares at him.

“What?” She whispers hoarsely. “Are you on drugs? I tried to-” her voice gives out, finally petering out to nothingness. She coughs into her hand. There's a smear of red.

Sylus snaps his fingers, and a handkerchief is placed in it. He hands it to her. “I know. That's why I want you. No one else would be crazy enough to try, let alone skilled enough to almost succeed.”

She looks at him suspiciously, and it's almost as if he can read her mind. He snorts.

“I'm not desperate, sweetie. If I wanted you as my bed warmer, we wouldn't be having this conversation. And it would be because you wanted it, not because I forced you.” Sylus stands, stretching, his back popping with the motion. He sighs pleasantly. “You're good at your job, clearly. So do it for me. I'll pay well. We can discuss your contract when you're healed up. For now, rest.”

If she had a voice, she'd snap at him for being so overconfident.

For now, however, she doesn't have a choice. Kit’s out of options. She can't afford to bite this particular hand.

Not yet.

⭐

As usual, thanks for reading! I know this post was a meaty one, but I had a blast writing these and so I thought they were worth the share.

Enjoy your Tuesday!

[syfien]

“Just sit on my fucking face already.” Boris x Yuriy

(warning - smut under cut)

Smut Dialogue Ask Game

What's really funny is I struggled to come up with something for this, but when I got going, I got going. It's more than the 500 I was meant to do, but I'm happy with it regardless.

“Just sit on my fucking face already.” Boris jerks his handcuffed hands, the metal chain hitting the metal bed frame loudly in the otherwise silent room. "Or get these off me. I don't care. I need to taste you."

"So patient." Yuriy almost purrs, voice dripping with obvious sarcasm. He's not amused at Boris' outburst. "But I make the choices here. Don't make me gag you."

"You can gag me with your co-" Boris' words are halted as Yuriy shoves his index and middle fingers into his mouth.

"I hate the fact you smile when I do this." Yuriy shakes his head, ignoring the tongue toying with the ring on his finger.

Boris will always be hard to control, but Yuriy loves to try. Loves it when the man finally submits. Today, doesn't seem to be one of those days. With a soft sigh, Yuriy shifts himself to straddle Boris' hips. Pushing all his weight down, so the idiot can't move any more. Boris tries, of course. Wanting to tempt Yuriy into bouncing on his cock, he's sure. But Yuriy ignores the squirming and simply pulls his hand back.

"Boris."

His tone is cold, commanding, and just like that, Boris stills. Lips pressed together, trying to not smile or speak. Yuriy thinks he's won. But as always, Boris wants to fight. His hips surge upwards, rocking Yuriy forward hard enough they almost headbutt each other. The laugh that erupts from Boris doesn't help either.

"Boris!" Yuriy pushes himself up on all fours, not an inch of him touching Boris now as he holds himself above the man. The glare on his face not as effective with such a bright red blush across his cheeks.

"What? I like seeing you bounce on me."

Yuriy glares down at the man. If he wasn't horny as hell, he'd walk away right now. Leave Boris naked and cuffed to their bed. That would teach the man a lesson, but neither would be satisfied. So, maybe just one of them can be.

"Your mouth is going to get you in such trouble one day."

Is all Yuriy says, shifting up the bed. Eyes pinning Boris in place as he tries to figure out what his captain is up to. He still tugs at the damned cuffs, hoping for the chance to cop a feel, and Yuriy is glad he got the metal ones. Even if he knows Boris' skin will be black and blue tomorrow. It's his own fault.

"Open wide, Borya."

Is all the warning his lover gets. Yuriy tugs at the short silver locks, Boris' mouth opening as he does so and getting exactly what he asked for earlier. A slow push of Yuriy's cock over that wicked tongue. It earns a hiss of delight from Yuriy, and a gag of discomfort from Boris.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. You asked for this."

Yuriy coos, and he's damned sure the sound that just came from Boris was a muffled laugh. Bastard. Yuriy shakes his head down at the man, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he does exactly what Boris wanted. Pretty much sitting on his face, fucking his mouth. A slow, easy pace, because even if Yuriy wants to shut Boris up, punish him, he's no monster.

"Fuuuck…" Yuriy groans, the hand in Boris' hair moving to the headboard, so he can balance easier. Move without hesitation. "This is exactly what you wanted, wasn't it."

A statement, not a question. Boris talking dirty and getting Yuriy riled up. Putting such sordid, wonderful ideas into his head, hoping Yuriy would do it. And he got what he wanted. A cock sliding over his tongue and teasing his gag reflex with each thrust forward.

Yuriy can't make himself be annoyed over falling for Boris' trick. This just feels far too good. Warm and inviting. The rumble of Boris' moans feeling like heaven with each thrust. It's enough to get Yuriy more vocal than normal. Deep groans and words of praise each time he sinks deep into the man. He could do this all night, if only his orgasm wasn't creeping up fast.

"Fuck… Borya." Yuriy smirks wickedly, loving how those pale eyes open to look up at him when he speaks his name.

Yuriy almost cums right there and then. Such pretty eyes, wet with tears from the blowjob, staring up at him. Wanting his cock. Wanting his cum. But Yuriy has other plans. Pulling out from Boris' mouth with an audible pop, Yuriy quickly strokes himself. Cock sopping wet from spit, it barely takes anything until he's cumming. Milky white threads over Boris' panting mouth, crooked nose. Across heavily flushed cheeks. Yuriy sighs happily after taking a moment to enjoy this sight.

"Well, I'm done." He swings his leg over Boris and wastes no time in getting off the bed.

"Wait, Yuriy, wait." Boris balks, again tugging at his cuffs. Yuriy laughs at the sight. "Where the fuck are you going?"

Yuriy glances over his shoulder, hand on the door handle as he looks at his painfully hard and desperate lover.

"Like I said." He flashes Boris a smile, loving how his cum glistens across the man's skin. "I'm done."

He doesn't waste time to hear Boris' reply. Slamming the door shut and sauntering to the kitchen. He'll be back soon enough. Get himself a drink, maybe a snack. He'll return and carry on the fun, but for now, Boris still needs to be punished for being so annoying.

[xx-blueboy-xx]

Day Five & Six: Kiss of Death & Puppertry | Goretober 2023

Prompt List!

CW: Murder, Violence, Major Character Death + Mind Control 

Words: 706

He was pressed up against the wall, and he could feel his grace lashing out beneath his vessel’s skin, threatening to slice and cut through the man who had him pinned. Dean’s hand was wrapped around his throat, though, it was a useless endeavor as he didn't need to breathe - but he could feel it crushing his windpipe. The damage was being rapidly stitched up by his grace, and it was the only reason he was still able to speak. The forest of green that he loved to walk through was a freezing desert of nothing, Dean’s face filled with only a vicious animalistic sneer. 

“Dean, stop-”Castiel managed and he felt the man’s finger press further into his throat, actively leaving bruises along it now. He could do this. He could break through the spell that had overtaken the hunter’s mind. All he had to do was reach out and touch him. He subtly went to move his hand up, in an attempt to press his fingers to his temple. The angel cried out as Dean snatched his wrist and snapped it. The sound of bone cracking rang out down the hallway, and he winced. The pain throbbed through him. Usually, an angel could simply ignore any pain or damage done to the vessel - but he has been existing on earth far too long to have that ability anymore. 

Dean huffs, his warm breath brushing against Castiel’s face from the lack of distance between them. “I should have done this from day one. You’re nothing but a useless, pathetic monster. That physic brother of mine is next to die. So, don’t worry you won’t be alone.” 

His chest rises and falls with rapid labored breaths, his blue eyes filling with ushered tears. Castiel isn’t sure why he has begun crying but finds he can’t stop them. He knows that deep down, he can get Dean off of him with ease. He can put an end to this fight with ease. Even with the man having supernatural strength from the witch's spell. Yet, the idea of hurting the Winchester. In any capacity makes him feel sick. Perhaps, he deserves this. For failing Dean one too many times. He had betrayed Heaven only to fail at being his angel. Only to find himself screwing up at every turn. He is sure that Sam will manage to snap Dean out of this. 

Or, perhaps, this is the end of the story. The bloody-horrible end, that everyone but them had accepted. 

“I -” Casrtiel swallows, feeling his tears now running down his face, something seems to flicker across Dean’s face, and he feels hope swirl inside his chest. “I love you, Dean. You are everything to me. I won;t hurt you. I won’t fight back. So, if you feel like you must do this…” 

He allows his body to go slack, and he slides his angel blade from his jacket sleeve. He presses it into the man’s free hand. The grip on his throat has lessened and he can get the words out easier, not coming out as wavering coughs anymore. The conviction in them hadn’t been affected.

“Then, do it.” Castiel basically spits out, his blue eyes flooding with a deep-untold affection. Ancient even. “Kill me. Your face being the last thing I see - is an honor.”  

Instead of taking the blade, the human stared at his face. It seems that something he had said broke through, and Castiel couldn’t stop himself from letting out a soft gasp - as lips met his. It was electric as he felt Dean’s lips pressed against his own, in a  kiss that was more teeth and blood than anything gentle. It was exactly how he imagined it to be and yet, so much more. His hand came up and gripped at Dena’s flannel, his eyes fluttering closed as he kissed abc with a vicious possessiveness. His grace had already healed his broken wrist and that hand came up to grip at the man’s hair, tugging at the short-coarse strands. 

He didn’t recognize the fact that he didn’t hear his angel blade drop to the ground. 

Until, it was plunging through his chest. 

[hummingbird-of-light]

June of Doom 2024 Day 17 (@juneofdoom)

17. “You don’t want to do that.”               

| Struggle | Blackmail | Desperate Measures |

~

Nyota Uhura was very tired when she entered her small apartment. The day at work had been exhausting as hell and she longed for a nice warm shower, something to eat and a few hours of sleep.

Slowly, she made her way to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to take a look at what she had left. There wasn't much for she hadn't had the time to buy lots of groceries that week. Eventually, Uhura decided to order a pizza. It was way easier and she could take the shower while waiting.

~

It took round about an hour until the doorbell rang. Uhura had put on some relaxing clothes after her shower and was ready for a quiet evening, reading a book or watching a movie. A glance through the door viewer told her that it was the delivery service.

Uhura opened the door and greeted the handsome, young man who carried a pizza box in his hands. As soon as he saw the dark-haired woman, a seductive smile formed on his lips.

"Good evening, miss. I have an order for" – he took a look at the smart watch he was wearing – "the most gorgeous lady in town?"

Uhura couldn't help but chuckle. What a flirt! Well ... she couldn't deny that it was a very nice compliment.

"Why, thank you. I owe you ... fifteen dollars, right?" Uhura grabbed the money she had already placed on the small cabinet that stood next to the door.

The man shrugged his shoulders.

"I guess. But I would also take your number as payment."

"Really? I think your boss wouldn't be too happy if you brought him a number instead of money," Uhura retorted and her counterpart laughed.

"True. But I'm sure I can solve that problem."

The guy really seemed to be quite serious. But Uhura had no problem with that. She had dealt with men like this often enough and knew how to handle them.

"All right, then. My number in exchange for a free pizza."

The grin on the delivery man's face grew even wider.

"And ... maybe a glass of water? I've got a long shift ahead of me, but my boss hardly allows me any breaks and I don't get anything to drink." He put on his best puppy-eyed look and Uhura smirked.

"Oh, you poor thing. So my number and a glass of water? That should be doable. Come on in."

Those were the words the man had been waiting for. No sooner had Uhura uttered them than he rushed into her apartment, dropped the pizza on the floor and slammed the door behind him.

Uhura was startled and staggered back a few steps, surprised by the quick attack.

"Hey! What are you doing?" she screamed as the guy grabbed her by the wrists and pushed her against the nearest wall. The grin changed and the canines grew into fangs.

"What a naive thing you are," the man's sneering voice whispered as he grabbed Uhura by the bun and yanked her head violently to the side.

Uhura felt the hot breath on her neck as her attacker bent his head down and ran his tongue over her skin.

"What the –"

The man's cool laugh sent a shiver down Uhura's spine and silenced her.

"Oh, you smell so good. I'm sure your blood tastes just as amazing."

Carefully, almost tenderly, the pointed teeth dug into her skin and Uhura grimaced. But only for a brief moment.

"You don't want to do that."

The man laughed again and this time he pulled his head back. Blood stuck to his teeth, dripping from his lips.

"And why wouldn't I?"

A hand left Uhura's wrist and roughly grabbed her face. But the woman only smiled.

"Because you picked the wrong victim, vampire!" With these words, Uhura released one of the pointed silver hairpins she had used to pin up her hair and tried to stab it directly into her attacker's heart.

To her surprise, the vampire reacted immediately and grabbed her wrist while it was still in the air. He bared his pointed teeth angrily.

A fierce fight broke out between the two opponents and Uhura had to admit to herself that this man was really something. He actually managed to inflict a few injuries on her, but when they finally fell to the ground together, she made sure that the hairpin hit its target.

The vampire shrieked in pain and finally lay motionless, eyes wide open beneath Uhura.

The young woman wiped the blood and sweat from her face and got to her feet, breathing heavily.

Many said that a wooden stake had to be driven through the heart of a vampire, but she had found over the years that silver worked even better.

A grim smile formed on Uhura's lips.

"You shouldn't have stolen only the real delivery man's cap, you should have stolen the whole uniform, bastard."

She had immediately realized that the man didn't really work for the delivery service. And when he had tried to wrap her around his finger and his eyes had practically begged to be let into the apartment, she had realized everything.

The vampire had made a big mistake. Because no one of his kind should mess with a vampire slayer.

[quinloki]

A Light Touch

Fem Reader x Eustass Kid

CW: language, assault, violence, sexual themes and situations, implications of non-con, loss of limbs, blood. 18+ Only.

Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -

Chapter 14: Attraction

Hip's trying to keep a straight face, and Emma is failing miserably, crumpled into a ball nearby laughing into both of her hands. You move your collar back over the bright bruised kiss Kid had left on the top of your shoulder.

"Your first kiss." Hip manages to say, her features twisting into a grin. "Sorry, (Y/N), we're not laughing at you."

"I didn't figure, I just don't get why it's so funny." You say with a smile. You're almost on the verge of laughing yourself because Emma's laughter is so infectious.

"It's just... The Captain's fighting style..." Hip starts, but she's losing control and nearly laughing before Emma interjects.

"WE CALL HIM A BRUISER!" Emma blurts out before falling into a full fit of laughter.

All three of you end up in a fit of laughter, though for you it was Emma's tear-filled voice, half-dead from laughing so long that pushed you over. You hadn't meant to add fuel to the proverbial roast that Eustass was sure to face from Hip and Emma, but that's how things had ended up.

"Ah, well, let's focus on your legs for today and tomorrow then, and give your shoulder a chance to heal up on it's own." Hip says after a minute, wiping an errant tear from her eye. "I mean, laughin' at the cap'n is good exercise too, but we need to make sure you're light on your feet."

"Sometimes the best defense is to not be there in the first place?"

"Best defense is no be there." Hip corrects. "It's a quote from an old movie, but the idea is that you don't actually need to fight most fights to win. Eventually, you'll get good enough that you will have options, but the longer – and faster – you can run, the better your chances of finding help. Fortunately, we don't have to go old school and run you ragged in laps around the property, we'll start with a treadmill."

"I don't know why, but the idea that there's a really clean, really organized, and really sleek gym in the house just seems weird." You muse, looking around the decently sized work out space. It doesn't look like the entire crew could fit down here all at once, but close to it.

Hip laughs. "It was one of the last things to get added, and most of us use it for rehab and not our usual routines, but we all keep it maintained. Killer uses it the most." She walks over to a leg press machine and points at where the weight is double pinned at 550lbs/250Kg. "That's part of why Killer moves so fast it surprises you."

You wiggle into the seat of the machine after adjusting it forward a bit while Hip and Emma look on with amused smiles. You grunt and growl and push and manage to shift it just enough to make the pins jiggle, but that's it.

"That's some 'I just had so much adrenaline, I threw the car' kind of weight right there."

"You're not wrong, I've seen Kid and Killer lift cars to move 'em around the shop cause it was easier than getting the tow truck." Emma says. "Captain might be the only one who could bench more than Killer."

"I am surrounded by monsters." You muse. "Highly protective, really nice monsters, but holy hells."

Hip ruffled your hair. "Lil' bit. C'mon, let's start making you one of those nice monsters."

Hip and Emma put you through the proverbial ringer. They had you run and jog for so long you thought your lungs were going to pop and your legs were going to cave in, but you didn't die. Two and a half hours later you're released from the torture, and were quickly realizing that what you had thought was 'in shape' and what the crew considered In Shape were two vastly different definitions.

The only bad part was that you were laying on the floor, covered in sweat, your hair matted to your face and you had just barely caught your breath when Kid came into the gym.

"Hey bruiser." Hip says as Emma struggled to stifle her laughter. You cover your face with your prosthetic hand and offer a lazy wave.

Eustass grunts. "You didn't break my mouse, did you Hip?"

"Oh my gods, don't call me that that way right now." You whine, rolling onto your knees before managing to get up on shaky legs. "I'mma take a shower." You take a couple steps and your legs buckle. "Heck!"

Emma catches you before you hit the mats again and gives you a smile. "How about I help you?"

"Please, yes." You lean on Emma and the two of you toward the showers.

"Hip." You hear Eustass say sternly behind you.

"She's not broken." Hip insists. "Bent, a bit, maybe."

"Christ, Hip."

"Hey hey, I'm not the one who bruised 'er for 'er first kiss, you brute. Don't go – eh, Cap'n? You look a bit pale..."

You feel the heat rising in your cheeks even as you can feel Emma trying not to laugh again.

It takes you a bit to get cleaned up, not just because your entire body is sore, but because you're not in a rush to face Kid. You're not mad Hip told him, and you're not upset that he knows, you just aren't really sure how to face him without it being horrifically embarrassing. You're old enough to drink, you'd think you'd have had your first kiss by now, but it just never happened.

During school your mom was super protective of you, and no after-school activities really limited your interactions with others. You were also worried that if your mom found out you were getting too close to someone she'd move the both of you away again. Luffy and his friends were the only ones to really get close to you, but the entire situation had been platonic – even Sanji seemed to tone it down around you, as though he was aware of how uncomfortable you got with too much attention.

Your mom passed away shortly after you graduated, and since then most all of your time and energy had been on surviving. You weren't against people or dates, but you lacked the practice most people got when they were teenagers, so you just hadn't gotten around to it.

You remember Nami talking about how first kisses were just plain awful, but maybe having accidentally waited so long wasn't so bad after all.

When you come out of the shower, all cleaned up and in a fresh set of clothes, the only person still around is Eustass Kid. He's sitting on a bench, poking at his phone.

"Hey." You say quietly, walking over to him.

He doesn't look over, but you can see the smile on his lips. "How's the legs, Mouse?"

"Feeling a bit like a newborn giraffe, honestly." You admit with a nervous laugh. "I'm sure I can make it around the house though."

"... First kiss, huh?" He asks, looking at you with those golden eyes.

You flinch, feeling the heat rise in your face, and look away. "Yes, but I mean... I'm not complaining."

Kid grunts. "You got nothing to compare it to, Mouse. C'mere." He motions for you to come stand in front of him.

You move so you're between his knees, his face just about level with yours, with a concerned look on your face. "I hope you're not going to give me a bad kiss so I can compare."

His brows knit for a second, "I don't kiss poorly, Mouse."

You didn't doubt that. Something told you that Eustass Kid's pride was entirely too big to allow for something like that. But, that pride was what had pulled people to him, and given him the skills to make prosthetics the way he did. His empire was founded on that pride, and it wasn't empty or fragile.

"I just want to show you different," he explains.

Kid's prosthetic hand rests on your hip and his right hand slides across your cheek so gently your eyes close. His fingers brush along your jaw and slip just under your ear, running softly along your hairline before combing through your hair. Your hair was still a little damp from the shower, but none of Kid's movements seemed to run into a single tangle, and he cradles your head as soft lips move across your own lightly.

The sensation caused your eyes to open a little and your lips to part in a soft sigh. The sure smile on Kid's face makes your cheeks go hot, and the soft persistent kiss that follows makes your eyes close again. The light pressure has its own pleasure, and his kisses linger just long enough before he gives you a moment to breathe. There's nothing rough in his grasp or actions, but you're still held captive by the gentleness of it.

He leans in a closer, the hand on your hip sliding up to the middle of your back, the fingers in your hair shifting so his thumb is just behind your ear, tilting your head slightly. His next kiss is deeper, pushing into you and you can feel his tongue slip across your lips, tracing the lines of the center of your lips without pushing beyond them. Your breathing is coming out heavier as the tender pleasure is making your heart race.

You hadn't thought Kid's earlier statement to be an empty boast, but you hadn't expected the truth of it to be what it was. Your brain was muddled, and your fingers tremble against his arms as you find yourself wanting more. More than just kisses, as heat and need were rising up in you more than you had expected from a few minutes of tender kissing.

"Ahmm, Kid... my legs..." You manage between soft kisses. You can feel your legs trembling in a way that has nothing to do with the pleasure filling you up.

Kid lifts you easily, bringing his legs together and setting you down in his lap. Your knees are on either side of him, your feet hooked against the tops of his legs. The new position almost puts you above Kid. His hands shift from your thighs to your ass, squeezing you and eliciting a moan-filled gasp that made you red to your ears.

"You know Mouse, I'm glad no one else knows you make these sounds." He admits, his hands sliding up your back, one holding you steady, the other cradling your head and pulling you into a deep kiss before you can say anything.

You steady yourself against him with your hands on his shoulders for a moment before you lean in against him and let your fingers tangle into his hair. There's a pleasant hum from Eustass before he takes control again, kissing you with the same fervor from the first time, his tongue pushing into your mouth and demanding every moan and shiver of pleasure you have to give.

When you're not sure you have any breath left, he breaks the kiss, his lips following the line of your jaw to your ear. His hands hold you close as his teeth nip at your earlobe.

"The things I want to do to you, Mouse," his words are a soft growl in your ear. Full of heat and desire. "But I won't."

He pulls you into a hug and gives you a second to recover from his kisses. "I'm going to handle him first. I don't want you thinking you hafta please me to stay safe here."

"I wouldn't think that," you assure him.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Mouse." He hugs you a little tighter, his head resting on your shoulder. "But it doesn't change what your situation is, and I won't take advantage of you like that."

"... I hope this doesn't mean you're going to stop kissing me," you say, and it's obvious you're pouting.

Eustass turns his head and kisses your neck gently, before running his teeth against your skin. "Wouldn't dream of it, Mouse." He says softly, before kissing your lips again.

Next Chapter

[k-i-n-g-p-i-n]

Since I have no self control, meet Shuichi Saihara as a spidersona.

“Okay, let’s do this one last time.

My name is Shuichi Saihara. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and I’m pretty sure you know the rest.

I live in the year 2050, and my city is a hotbed for organized crime. The police force is stretched so thin that there aren’t many of us to take on the smaller cases. Everyone apparently has “better” things to do than to catch that thief or put that pedophile in jail.

It’s sick.

Enter me, my aunt, and my uncle, who’ve both raised me more than my actual parents. They’re world class detectives, and I’ve been helping them with their cases for as long as I can remember. When I turned eleven, they let me be in charge of small time cases— burglaries and tax fraud, stuff like that, and before long I had moved onto robberies, drug trafficking, sex offenses, etc. I think they were hoping I’d move onto bigger cases, but I’m staying right where I am. Someone has to help the little guy.

I never had any intention of putting myself directly in the line of fire. I truly believed the system worked. I believed in looking for the truth, no matter what.

I was hoping to become a private investigator, and letting the courts do justice to the bad guys afterwards.

Instead I became a superhero.

Not what I would have chosen as a career path. But when you’re fourteen years old and you go with your aunt to investigate a bombed laboratory, there aren’t many conclusions pin down without the proper evidence.

After the spider bit me, I started displaying very spider-like symptoms. That conclusion was much easier to draw: the spider bite gave me powers.

I went back to the lab and collected some evidence… off-book. That was the first time I ever did anything that wasn’t by-the-book. It was strangely thrilling.

Anyways, I found some blueprint designs for these things called “web-shooters”. I’ve never been much of a tech guy, but if there’s anything I know how to do, it’s solve puzzles and put pieces together.

Whoever made that spider and designed the web-shooters were clearly planning something, but since that day I haven’t found hide nor hair of them. I had other things to take care of. Namely, my aunt’s funeral.

Supposedly, she was struck by a drunk driver. But before she died, she and I were starting to make connections between the lab and the government documents inside— documents that conveniently vanished into thin air before they could be properly analyzed. She was getting too close to something that wasn’t supposed to get out.

The police refused to look for the driver in question, who definitely was not drunk. They had more important things to do, apparently.

I always knew the system was deeply flawed, but I really thought it was the only way to serve justice. I really believed the law would always protect us, that the truth would win.

But what happens when it’s the system that’s guilty?

My uncle was a husk of himself, so it was up to me to catch the criminal and punish him. When the system is fractured, sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands.

Days of investigating later, I found him. I really, really wanted him dead, but… even in my rage, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. My aunt would never want that for me.

So let’s just say I managed to “convince” him to turn himself in. But not before he admitted that he was paid off by someone with a lot of money to their name.

After that, I started investigating as a vigilante. People saw that I was willing to fight for them, to enact justice on the criminals that hurt them. I was willing to search for the truth, investigate where no one else wanted to. I protected innocents, and always searched for the truth, no matter how terrible the truth may be.

They called me Crimeweb. A little on the nose, but accurate. I gained a responsibility unlike anything else.

But there was a slight problem with this.

When a vigilante started showing up out of nowhere, beating up villains and making our law enforcement look bad, guess which junior detective got assigned his case?

I tried refusing, but my uncle practically begged me. I’m not sure why he was so insistent on the matter— he refused to tell me when I asked him— but I couldn’t deny my uncle when he was in a state of extreme grief.

If I back out now, it’ll look suspicious. If I do a poor job, it’ll also look suspicious. I’ve thought about finding a criminal to frame for my actions, but I couldn’t do it. That goes against everything I stand for.

It’s funny. How can a man who doesn’t even show his own face fight for the truth?

I don’t know.

So. Now I have to find a way out of this. And hopefully, things will change for everyone.”

[redlegend-a]

13... :3c

13)  one muse giving the other who is injured oral while they’re recovering. 

One of their wisest purchases was the refurbishing of Green's Viridian house to accommodate a shower room big enough for a gigantic dog. It also meant space for them to cut each other's hair (a favorite pastime that started when they were six and Green took scissors to Red's hair. (Actually, the cut wasn't bad... (maybe it was. they got in a world of trouble))), and shower themselves.

He caught the edge of an unkind scab with one of his teeth, and the moment it snags he felt a whole body flinch as Green starts bleeding again. It's a consequence of being in the mix of monsters, fighting, battle, and then running through the aftermath of an eruption.

One week ago Green collected half a dozen gashes and a handful of burns. One of them ate a hole into his neck that danced the line between life and death at a spot where he usually hangs on with his mouth.

The injury under his teeth broke into his mouth and Red took a tongue full of blood with a mouth full of water, thigh, and musk.

You taste good.

Green says something, a complaint that he's being too kind, to which he rolls his eyes and hikes his crooking fingers to the third knuckle into Green to pin him further to the wall. It jerks his neck back and thumps his skull into the tile. Green's eyes crunch shut and Red sees them stinging. The strangled noise he hitches through his teeth isn't the usual wheeze of pleasure, it's a whine of this hurts. It's not a hurt he likes. It's also something he'll let go if he's allowed to.

Red lets the pink dribble down his chin and pool at his collar. The tile leaves red, angry imprints on his calves.

<< What hurts? >>

He has to tap his knuckles twice on Green's thigh to sign it again. It's a quick 'what's up'. One handed so he can walk his occupied fingers over Green's innards hard enough to get him to whine again. He's all callouses, and Green would be more pissed about the consideration when Green's the one who asked in the first place.

"Fuck. Neck is killing me."

It figures. They'd specifically ran the tap cold so it would numb it. Not working well enough. Red pulls his fingers out with a wet slip and Green's knees shake under the shower. The freckle pattern goes down. from his pubic bone to his ankles and the gash that fucked his thigh up splits the bigger dapples in two. The one he caught bubbles up into perfect little spheres.

Red pats the tile, licking his fingers.

<< Lay down. >>

Green sighs at the loss, kicking at his foot and slowly crumpling like his world was ending onto his back, palms pressing into his eyes while the water makes puddles in the crooks of his body. It takes the stress off the wounds. His neck, exposed, is still sore looking. The broken burn looks like mottled clay.

Red breaks the moment to force himself up to find one of their towels, folding it twice and nudging Green's shoulder with his foot.

Put it under your head.

Green opens an eye back up at him through his fingers. His arms are goosefleshed.

Red turns the tap to hot (cold wasn't working), and sets the already damp towel down, motioning for him to turn and let his head rest. Green obliges without a lot of complaints. A lot of those resources were put towards concentrating through the sharp pains of a burn.

As for Red?

He sunk beside him under the warm water. The fatigue of the past few weeks was compounded alongside the chemo. He didn't have the energy to fuck like they usually did, which was a shame. There was a lot to celebrate that was good among the challenges.

This was at the very least, much easier than trying to romp around their bed.

Green grumbled something at him that the water drowned out, and curled an arm under his head. Red drew back to plant kisses along his hip, sucking the skin up to break blood vessels while he moved. The encouragement is there to keep going, right between Green's gritted teeth.

So he does, stretching out along the floor to collect enough tile impressions to make prints (he's probably not getting up), and back to his thighs.

Again. He's being too kind. Green reminds him not-nicely that he is.

Sure.

Red turns Green's hips, lifting a leg around his back, and lying his ear against Green's inner thigh.

"Put your mouth to work."

It's endearing.

Red snorts and does just that, both hands pulling at his hips to drag him down into his open mouth. Again, the idle, amorous thought occurs that he tastes good. His dick's swollen and Red rolls the flat of his tongue against it for pressure. He buries his face between Green's legs.

Green's toes curl down his back. He's vocal, setting his teeth and groaning for more of it so he can chase something more enjoyable than the last few weeks have been. Green's thighs tighten around his shoulder and head. It's warm, steam rising from their skin.

It's warm between Green's legs and it lulls him into a euphoric peace.

You can probably snap me with these.

Red drops a hand from his hip to sink his fingers between his legs and wrap them back towards his stomach to work those sparks out of him.

It works magic. Green clutches the wet towel, his hair weighted over his face, and breathes in shallow bursts. The position's better though. He's not flinching. His eyes are hazed over and watching for the moment that they're open.

Because with the next suck and rock of his fingers they're not.

Green twitches, so he's on the right track.

Red makes bruises bubble with his lips over his inner thigh. He bites at the gash again, bursting the dried bubbles.

His fingers rock into him to the wet palm, pulling warmth and loud sighs of pleasure out of him. Life hasn't been fair enough for them enough to spend the time he wanted to with Green.

It comes through. Small apologies and the steps to rectify them. It's with his tongue, his lips, and his fingers. Green's back rolls with him to try and get more of it and find something to anchor to. Slowly, very slowly, he builds Green to loud moans and gasps that have him sinking his face into the towel.

Red feels his stomach hitch and the rest of him tense as well.

'Messy', he thinks.

Green kicks his shoulder while he rides the high of an orgasm, concentrating.

"Shut up."

Red laughs while licking his teeth and swallowing, biting his shaking thigh and pulling his hips back to his mouth.

Again.

[princessfanonanona]

Dash walks up to the entrance of the Serenity Hills Hall. The old venue space has a banner hanging over the doors that reads “Casper High Reunion ‘08” in the old school colors.

It’s…nice.

If a bit tacky.

Inside the doors, he sees a familiar person looking over the table of name cards.

“Kwan?”

“Dash!”

“Dude, I barely recognize you,” Dash catches the offered hand, pulling his old friend into a half hug.

“It’s good to see you too,” he laughs as he pulls away.

“Are you wearing makeup?” Dash squints.

Kwan scratches the corner of his jaw, glancing away, “it’s become a habit from work, does it look weird?”

“No, it,” he gives his friend a once over, “you look kinda badass, actually.”

Kwan barks a laugh, “thanks man. You look pretty suave yourself.”

“Breaking out the big words,” he teases.

“Surprisingly, my English has gotten better after being abroad for the past few years.” Kwan offers Dash his name tag, holding up his own. “Do you think we’re gonna need these?”

“Probably, I mean, I wouldn’t have recognized you if I didn’t follow your group,” he shrugs as they start walking down the hall.

“Have I really changed that much?” he frowns. It’s not a pout, something too serious to be so petulant, but it’s a close thing.

“Dude,” Dash punches Kwan in the shoulder, “I know you own a mirror.”

Kwan laughs, breaking his serious expression.

They walk through the open doors into a semi dimmed dance hall. Tables with chairs are set up on one side with floral arrangements. On the far end is a table of drinks and snacks. The dance floor half filled with people chatting.

Dash takes a moment to pin his name tag to the lapel of blazer as Kwan looks around the hall.

“Yo,” Kwan elbows him, “I think that’s Manson.”

Dash looks in the direction that Kwan is looking. On the wall opposite of the tables leans a woman in black dress with black and purple hair.

“Damn,” Dash whistles, “she put on some serious muscle.”

Even from a distance, it was clear how muscular she had gotten over the years. She had kept her slender frame but the simple sleeveless dress did nothing to hide her strength.

“Let’s go say hi,” Kwan says, moving to walk over to her.

“Wha-why?” Dash half hisses, grabbing his arm to stop him.

“Because it’s polite?”

Dash makes a face.

Kwan rolls his eyes, “it’s been 20 years, I think we can let bygones be bygones.”

“This is a bad idea,” Dash mutters but let’s go to follow.

“What do you think her workout routine is?” he muses.

“A lot.”

“42 miles a week,” Sam says as they get a little closer, “weights on Tuesdays and Thursdays, kickboxing Wednesdays and Fridays, and mma on Saturday.”

Dash can’t help but whistle. 

He doesn’t ask how she heard them.

“Impressive, would you be okay with me joining you for a class?” Kwan asks. The smile he gives, charming and sweet.

“Hm,” she hums, holding her glass to her lips, eyeing them.

A group to the side explodes in boisterous laughter.

“Maybe,” she finally says. “You look good Kwan, I guess Korea has been good to you.”

Kwan’s smile shifts to something more wistful, “you could say that. It’s definitely easier than when I first started training. What have you been up to, other than working out, I mean.”

“I work in a shelter for DA survivors as a counselor and guard.”

“That’s crazy, no wonder you work out so much,” Dash says.

Sam shrugs, “I mean, I don’t usually need to fight but it’s a good intimidation factor.”

“It must be a lot of work, emotionally speaking,” Kwan says.

She makes an expression that’s more pained than cheer, “some days are rougher than others. But at the end of it, I’m making a difference for someone who needs a hand.”

“Is there anything you guys need?” Kwan asks.

Sam blinks, surprised.

“I mean,” he continues, “I have a pretty solid following of fans, if you need money or word to get out or something, I could make a post? Or have you join me on one of my VLives?”

“That’s-” she stops to swallow. “That’s actually really kind of you, thank you.”

“Yeah, no worries, I think a lot of the guys would help out too if you want something more?”

“I appreciate it, really, do you want to exchange numbers or…?”

“Yeah, that’s fine, here,” Kwan pulls out his phone to open his contacts before passing it over.

Sam hooks her glass in her elbow, adding her info.

“Oh em gee!” a false pitched voice says dramatically from behind Dash.

He turns and gets a face full of blonde hair as he’s hugged.

“Dash, you look so good!” Star says, stepping back. Her voice dropping back into a normal cadence. “Kwan! I’m so glad you could make it! When did you fly in?”

“Last night,” Kwan answers, taking back his phone.

“When do you have to head back? I imagine that you have a tight schedule, what with your comeback soon.”

“Tomorrow night, I’m meeting the crew for a photoshoot in New York, so I’ll be on the red eye out.”

“Then we have to meet for brunch tomorrow!” she gushes, “for old time’s sake!”

“Sure,” he agrees easily.

“What have you been up to?” Star turns to Dash and Sam. “You look stunning by the way, who did your hair? It looks fantastic.”

Sam blinks before offering a small smile. “Thank you, I did it myself.”

“Please tell me you didn’t use a box dye,” Star reaches out to hold a lock of hair.

“I didn’t,” she frowns, stepping back.

“Oh!” Star’s eyes go wide. “I’m so sorry, that was rude, I work in a salon out in Sacramento.”

“Cali? What brought you out there?” Sam asks, arching a brow.

“A boyfriend, actually. We met online and one thing led to another, we broke up less than a month after I moved but I couldn’t get home for one reason or another. I fell in love with the city though and just settled in, it’s been nice.”

“You look happy,” she says.

Star beams. “I am, thanks! But enough about me, what have you been up to? You look gorgeous!”

Sam laughs, “I was just telling them how I work with DA survivors as a counselor and guard.”

“Oh wow, that must be so exhausting, how do you do it?”

“Some days are harder than others but it feels worth it, I can see the difference I make. It helps.”

“I’m happy for you, you always had a fight in you to help.”

“You’re low, let me get you another glass,” Dash says, looking at Sam’s almost empty glass.

“Oh,” she glances at it before offering a genuine smile, “thank you.”

“Another red?”

“Please.”

“What do you guys want?” he asks Star and Kwan.

“A white,” Star says, “thanks.”

“Whatever beer you’re getting,” Kwan claps a hand on his shoulder. “Do you need help carrying them?”

“Who do you think I am?” Dash huffs, knocking the hand off. “You chat, I’ll be right back.”

“Haha alright man,” Kwan says, turning back to Sam.

Dash leaves the group and makes his way over to the table of drinks. A young staff member stands behind the table to help pour the drinks.

“Hey man, can I get a glass of white, a red, and…” he pauses to look over the bottles. “Two blues.”

“We have a selection of wine,” the guy says, gesturing to a small sign.

“Ah, then the cab sav and…the riesling.”

He nods, and gets to work pouring the wines.

“Dash Baxter, why look at you,” a mellow voice says, a heavy hand clapping on his shoulder.

“Val! I didn’t think you were going to make it,” Dash says, lifting an arm to give her a side hug.

“I heard Kwan was making a point to come back, I couldn’t not come,” she says, giving him a squeeze. Her red pantsuit accentuating her curves in a flattering manner. Her thick hair braided into long locks with gold pieces.

“What do you want, let me get you something.” Dash tilts his head at the staff.

“Then a bud lite.”

Dash looks at the staff who nods. He pulls out the three bottles. Popping the caps, he puts an orange slice in the mouth of the blue moons. 

“Thanks man,” Dash says, putting a few bills into the tip jar.

“Thank you,” Valerie says, taking her bottle. “Do you need help?”

“I got it,” Dash says, picking up the two wines in one hand and the beers with his other. “Oh it looks like the group moved.”

“Who- oh I see Kwan and Star, is that Manson?” 

“Yeah, she looks good, huh?” he says easily.

“She does, think I can get her number?” she muses.

“Kwan already did.”

“Damn,” she says, not even close to upset.

Dash side eyes her.

She side eyes him back. 

He smirks.

She chuckles, “my wife would kill me if she found out.”

“Before or after your kid does?”

Valerie laughs properly, “you got me there. Tyler would disown me as his mother.”

“He sounds like a good kid.”

“He is,” she smiles. “The best, and I’m not saying it just because he’s my kid.”

“Of course not,” he agrees, then louder for the trio at the table, “look who I found.”

“Hey,” Valerie gives a small wave before taking the seat next to Star. “Long time no see.”

“Val! Oh em gee!” Star squeals, throwing her arms around the taller girl. “It’s so good to see you!”

Dash puts his bottle down before passing out the drinks to the table.

Sam takes a sip of her wine and blinks in surprise.

“I didn’t tell you which of the red’s I had,” she says.

“The cab sav was the only one that would match the color,” Dash says simply.

Sam arches a brow at that but doesn’t say anything else.

“Oh, Val, Dash, you would never believe this,” Star says, sitting back in her chair to lean over to catch Dash’s attention. “We’re going to have brunch tomorrow at Clara’s.”

“Clara’s closed last year,” Dash says.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Star deflates.

“I didn’t hear they closed, did they say why?” Sam asks.

“Financial trouble, they didn’t have enough customers to stay open.”

“That sucks, are there any other places for lunch here?” Kwan asks.

Dash shakes his head, “there’s not much open for eating out anymore. Most of downtown is closed and almost all of the stores moved out to Elmerton or further.”

There’s a quietness that settles over the table.

“How about we meet at my hotel, it’s a bit of a drive but they have a good restaurant that has a decent brunch option,” Kwan offers.

“Sure, where are you staying?” Star asks.

“The Waldorf-”

“Shut up, you bougie prince.” Sam cuts in. “You are not staying at the same hotel as me.”

Valerie chokes on her beer.

“You? You’re staying at the Waldorf?” she asks, rubbing her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Yeah, my parents didn’t even want me within 50 miles of here. We compromised.” 

“How are they, by the way?” Star asks.

“Same old, same old,” she waves her hand. “I told them that nothing was going to happen again, but they refuse to believe me.”

“My dad was the same,” Valerie says, “I’m at the Hilton over in Park City.”

“That’s where I’m staying,” Star says. “I can’t believe we missed each other, we could have shared the ride.”

A loud commotion draws their attention to the entrance of the doors. A dark skinned man is being helped to his feet. Broken glass and liquid stain the floor around him.

“Ancients,” Sam mumbles, getting to her feet. She deftly weaves across the room.

“Wow,” Valerie whistles. “Tucker grew into himself.”

“That’s an understatement,” Star agrees. 

Tucker had in fact grown into himself, no longer the technogeek hunched in baggy clothes, but a young man standing tall in a well tailored suit.

“I think he might have a stylist,” Kwan says, tilting his head.

“What makes you say that?” Star asks.

“He keeps fiddling with his cuff link, he’s not used to wearing them,” he answers. “And also that jacket is too tailored to his frame.” There’s a beat of silence, “he has a very good stylist.”

“Well aren’t you a fashionista,” Valerie teases, leaning on the table.

“Comes with the territory, but enough about me, what have you been up to Madame Red?” Kwan arches an eyebrow at her.

Valerie huffs and waves a hand at him, “enough of that, you know I retired. Which I am enjoying, thank you very much.”

“You? Retired?” Star says in faux shock. “Has the sun risen from the west? Do pigs fly? Did-”

“Shut up,” Val cuts in without heat. She looks down at the half empty bottle in her hand, fiddling with it. “It didn’t feel right to continue, so I hung up the mantle, so to speak.”

Star opens her mouth to say something but stops, gaze snapping behind her.

“Hey Tucker, you look nice,” she says.

“Thanks, Sherrie wouldn’t let me leave without trying on what felt like a million outfits.”

“That your stylist?” Kwan asks.

“My secretary, she has a hobby of following fashion trends and likes to play dress up with me,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dash slides his untouched beer over to him, “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Thanks,” Tucker accepts the bottle. He rolls it between his hands before pushing the orange slice in. “Sam mentioned she fought her parents about it so I thought it would be worth it to come.”

“It’s a little weird to be back,” Star admits, finger running along the top of her glass. “After so long away, I can’t believe how much has changed. But it’s nice to see everyone again. I’m so glad we could chat like this.”

“I can’t believe how we all have changed,” Valerie says. “I didn’t think Kwan had the skills to be an Idol.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m more than just a pretty face,” he laughs.

“I mean, those abs are certainly something,” Tucker waggles his eyebrows.

Kwan blushes, “are you a Spirit?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “my two girls are. They were begging me to get an autograph from their bias.”

“That’s really cute,” Star says.

“It is until they make me sit through an hour of video edits of Soul7 concerts.”

Kwan looks away, covering his face with a hand.

“Aw, is Kwanie-hyung shy?” Tucker teases.

“Shut up.”

The rest of the table laughs at them.

“Is that a no to the autographs, then?”

“I’ll sign whatever only if you have a pen and never bring it up again.”

“Deal.” Tucker smiles big. He pulls out a pen and two cards from the inside of his jacket pocket.

“Oh these are old cards,” Kwan says, taking the offered items.

“Yeah, they searched for the album cards from your debut album and insisted that you sign these.”

“Wait, let me see,” Star says, leaning over the table.

Kwan passes the cards over to her and Valerie leans over to look as well.

“Oh em gee, you’re such a baby here!” She gushes.

“Wow,” Valerie glances between the cards and Kwan’s face, “you really were such a baby then.”

“I was barely 19, of course I looked like a baby,” he huffs, taking a swig of his beer.

“Let me see,” Sam asks, holding her hand out.

Star dutifully passes the cards over.

“Wait this is hilarious actually,” she smiles mischievously. Pulling out her phone she holds the cards out towards Kwan’s face. “Smile!”

“Ssi-bal,” he mutters. Shaking his head, rueful, he makes a very controlled expression at the camera.

“Hot,” she says, snapping the photo. “This is absolutely going to be your contact photo in my phone.”

“Yeah whatever,” Kwan rolls his eyes and holds out his hand.

She passes the cards back and starts playing with her phone.

“What are the kids' names?” he asks Tucker.

“Alma and Jenna.”

“Got it,” he signs both cards with a flourish. He squints at the ink before shaking the cards for a moment.

“It might take another minute to dry fully,” he passes them back to Tucker.

He nods and shakes the cards some more.

“What do you do, Tucker?” Star asks.

“Security contractor.”

“How many NDA’s do you have?” Sam asks.

“More than I care to think about,” he sighs dramatically.

“Wait, you have a secretary as a security contractor?” Valerie asks.

“That’s classified,” he smirks at her.

Sam punches him in the arm making him yelp, “you were dying to say that.”

“This is abuse,” he pouts at her, rubbing his arm. “Friendship abuse, I’m calling an adult.”

“You are an adult,” she rolls her eyes.

“An adultier adult!”

Valeris chuckles, “how are you still the same after all these years?”

“Who us?” Sam jerks a thumb at Tucker. “I’m just making up for lost time.”

“Brat.”

“Nerd.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“From you? It’s the nicest thing you could have said to me.”

“What’s this? Did you all decide to meet up without me?” A higher pitched voice asks from behind Dash.

“Paulina!” Star squeals, jumping up from her chair to embrace the newcomer.

“You made it! I thought you weren’t coming,” Dash says, getting to his feet to hug her when Star lets go.

“Don’t you know that I’m always fashionably late?” Paulina rolls her eyes, accepting the hug.

“Well, we’re just glad you could make it,” Valerie says. Her eyes drift down to Paulina’s round belly. “And with a plus one!”

“Please sit! How are you?” Star gushes.

“Good, all things considered,” Paulina answers, taking the last seat of the table between Dash and Kwan. She rests a hand on the top of her bump, “honestly, it’s been easy these past few weeks.”

“When are you due?” Valerie asks.

“In two weeks.”

Tucker whistles, “and you still decided to come?”

“I’m pregnant, not an invalid,” she glares.

Tucker holds up a hand, “I wasn’t saying that. My wife was exhausted leading up to her due date.”

Paulina’s gaze softens.

“You’re on thin ice, Foley.”

“Would you like something to drink?” Dash asks her. “Or eat?”

“Water, if you’re getting up,” she says.

“Anyone else?” he asks the table.

“I’m good,” Star says.

Sam lifts her glass, as does Kwan.

“Please,” he says.

“I’m alright,” Tucker shakes his head.

“Do you need a hand?” Valerie asks.

“Nah, you want another?” he asks her.

“If you would.”

“Okay, so a bud, a blue, a red, and a water?” he asks to confirm each person.

They all nod.

“I’ll be right back.”

Dash heads off, back to the drink table.

The staff member looks up at him.

“Can I get a cab sav, a bud, two blues, and a glass of water without ice?”

The staff nods and gets to work. He passes a bottle of water, the beer bottles and the wine glass over. Dash drops a few bills into the jar again and heads back to the table. 

Sam is in the middle of explaining something with Tucker laughing silently next to her with his head on the table. Star has her eyes wide in awe and Valerie looks impressed.

“-and so I said to him, ‘If I had known who I was dealing with, I would have reviewed my language books on stupid’.” She says.

“You didn’t,” Paulina says, “what did he do?”

“He tried to punch me, but he was too drunk to even stand so he got one step before tripping and falling face first into the wall and knocked himself out.”

“Who was this?” Dash asks as the table breaks out in roars of laughter.

“One of the douche nozzles that I was helping a client get her stuff back from,” she says, taking her glass.

Paulina’s eyes go soft as she takes her bottle of water, “you remembered.”

“You hate ice,” Dash says with a shrug as he takes his seat back.

She nods, “I didn’t think you would remember after all these years.”

“What have you been up to?” He asks instead.

“I work at an indie animation studio.”

“Yeah? That’s cool, I didn’t peg you as an animator,” Sam says.

“I’m not,” she shakes her head. “I work in the legal department and also the studio as a reference model.”

“Those are two very different fields,” Valerie comments.

“Model, I can see, but legal?” Tucker adds.

Paulina shrugs, “it’s what my parents wanted, I didn’t much care for it but I can do both easily enough since it’s still a small company.”

“Where are you based?” Star asks.

“Austin, the heat is great, the neighbors less so.”

“I heard it’s not so bad compared to other areas,” Star comments.

“It really isn’t for the city, but the specific neighborhood I’m in is less than ideal,” she says.

“That sucks, are you planning to move, then?” Valerie asks.

“We’re hoping to after the baby is born, the last thing I need is the stress of moving on top of this.”

“That makes sense,” Star nods.

“Hm,” Tucker says suddenly. He sits back in his chair and looks around the table.

“What?” Kwan asks.

“It’s weird,” he says. His gaze lands on Dash, a furrow between his eyebrows. “This is the first time all of us are together since that night. Especially since we all moved.”

Silence descends over the table.

“Almost all of us,” Dash says.

“I thought you would be the first to leave,” Tucker crosses his arms. “Not the last man standing.”

“Tuck,” Sam hedges.

“What?” he glances at her, “I’m just curious is all.”

“Curious about what?” Dash asks, keeping his tone even.

“Why didn’t you?”

Dash shrugs, “I didn’t have a good enough reason to.”

“I doubt you had a good enough reason to stay.”

Dash doesn’t look away but he doesn’t have an answer for him.

Tension grows thick between them.

Tucker sighs, looking away first.

“I just, I don’t know man,” he says. He looks at Sam, catching her gaze. “There’s really nothing left here.”

Dash looks down at his untouched beer.

“It wasn’t right to turn my back on everything,” he says finally. “After everything that had happened, I couldn’t walk away.”

Tucker’s gaze snaps back to Dash, fury in his gaze. “We walked away, what right do you have?” he hisses.

Dash looks up to meet his gaze, cool, almost detached. 

“I have to finish my job.”

“What exactly is your job, Dash?” Star asks in a quiet voice.

The lights flicker.

He turns to look at the open doors.

The last to arrive.

Looking nothing like anyone expects.

“To watch,” Dash says.

Danny’s blue eyes land on the table. 

He beams in joy.

It’s Casper High’s 20 year Reunion. What has happened to Danny, Sam, Tucker, and the other high schoolers?

[storiesofstratos]

Chapter 13: Close Encounters

Daniel takes to the streets, and gets a little more than he bargains for when he meets someone new...

You know that moment, when the clock strikes three on a fateful day in June? When the bell rings for the last time, and you walk out of school knowing you won’t have to go back to that hellhole for a whole three months? When the burden of all those tests and homework and all that just slides off your back, and you take that first deep breath of the warm summer air, and it hits you that you get to enjoy it however you want?

That’s how I felt, standing on the roof of my favorite pizza joint for the first time, looking over one of Stratos City’s many bustling streets. It was like a moment straight out of a superhero movie. Minus the pouring rain and brooding, deep voice.

"Okay, take it slow today. I know you wanna go all out but these people don't know who you are," Nico's voice echoed in my earpiece as I started moving from rooftop to rooftop. "You gotta introduce yourself slowly. Show that you're here to help." 

"I got it, I got it!" I retorted as I looked all around. Someone in danger maybe... an old lady crossing the street, some real boy scout stuff or something like that. “Look, would you just relax? I got this!”

I was able to jump from rooftop to rooftop without much effort. Keeping a bird’s eye view was nice, at least when it came to watching out for anyone plotting something… villainous? Criminal? I dunno, something bad. Which is exactly what I saw. Some guy, probably around my age… god, he was young. Mostly shaved head, save for a mohawk that was dyed toxic green. On the taller side, he wore a leather jacket over a white t-shirt, and some jeans, looking like a stereotypical punk in an 80s movie. Decently athletic build, looked like he knew how to handle himself in a fight.

At least, that was the conclusion I came to when I saw that he had someone pinned against the wall of an alleyway. The guy was pretty badly beaten too, they must have fought recently… but the punk with the green hair barely had a scratch on him. So either it was a really one-sided fight, or this was…

I dropped down the fire escape of the building I was on, working my way down the stairs until I was on the ground behind him. “Let him go.”

“Huh?” The punk turned to me, looking me up and down. “The fuck’re you? It ain’t Halloween yet, pal. Get outta here.”

I put my fists up. “I’m not gonna ask you again. Let him go, and walk away.” I tried my best to sound intimidating, but dammit, I was nervous. I’d never been in a fight before! I just hoped that my strength would carry me where I had no technique.

To my surprise, he did in fact drop the guy. That was… easier than I thought it would be. “Okay, good. Now, just get out of-”

The wind picked up suddenly, knocking Daniel off his feet. The sudden collision against the brick wall of the building sent a shock up his spine before he crumpled to his knees. Shaking his head, he tried to get to his feet quick, putting his hands up just in time to block another blast of compressed air.

“What the hell?? You have powers too..”

Daniel leapt out of the way to avoid a second blast. Stumbling as he got to his feet, he rushed his opponent, throwing a quick jab, only for his fist to connect with the wall behind him, cracking the bricks that made it up. A stabbing pain hit Daniel’s abdomen, the young man barely able to register the liquid seeping into his clothes before another blast sent him flying up into the air.

He was able to twist himself in the air, just enough to avoid the arcing electricity blazing by him. “You got lightning too?? Come o-”

His words were cut off by a blast of cold air from behind, sending him hurtling into the pavement below. Reeling, he threw a wayward punch, which managed to make contact. He could hear the prominent sound of cracking bone- ribs. Dazed, and still somewhat confused, he managed to connect another blow, and then another, sending his assailant into the wall.

But before he even had a chance to collect his thoughts, he felt the ground beneath him disappear. His assailant had grabbed him, flying both of the boys up into the air, before he was unceremoniously dropped.

I hit the ground hard. I couldn’t tell what was left and right at that point, but I sure as hell could feel the pain. I got up, shakily, and leaned against the wall for support. I had blood on me.. But was it just mine? I couldn’t tell at that point, honestly.

I finally collected myself enough to figure out that the bastard who attacked me had fled. Did.. he fly?? I couldn’t do that.. How the hell was I supposed to fight him like that? At least my mind was made up. If another superhuman was out causing trouble, I couldn’t just sit idly by, could I?

“Daniel,” Nico’s voice came in through the communicator, “Come on man, answer me!”

“I’m here,” I finally answered. How long had she been talking to me? “I.. I think I need to return to base. You guys are gonna wanna hear about what I saw… and… I think I need a serious bandaid.”